#i have gone down SO MANY rabbit holes over the past few days

[battythewitch]

So the recent element systems/paradigms discussions and the grimoire challenge have apparently done the trick and I've crashed through the witchy spiritual etc block I was facing like the Kool aid man crashing through the wall 👍

[kaizenkhaos]

Over the Airwaves: A Harringrove Xmas Fic

Okay so you know how it goes. You see a post reblogged from a fellow Harringrover (if that's the term...hmmm...I'm not sure but hey ho XD) and all of a sudden the mind gremlins go yes....do it. Write a nearly 4K fic inspired by it. Or kinda. It's more adjacent to it. In this case, I saw a post reblogged by @avalonlights about Michael Buble and that sent me down a rabbit hole of Robin and Steve hosting a radio show and a certain someone or someones ringing in with requests. Though it does give me ideas for another fic for later or maybe next year now XD So Merry Christmas everyone! ^^ Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, have fun, stay safe and for those of you who struggle during this time of year, my thoughts are with you. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Four Days before Christmas Day...

"And that was 'So This is Christmas' by John Lennon. Coming up, we have the much beloved listeners' request section. But now, here's a few words from our sponsors." It was the run up to Christmas and Steve was working. Like every god darn Christmas he could remember since finishing at Hawkins High. Sure, the money wasn't bad and it stopped him from sitting alone in a big house, wishing that he could just chill in the pool and forget about the rest of the world, but….there was just somethin' about this time of year that set his teeth on edge. Maybe it was cos his parents had once again gone away from the holidays, leaving him with a Christmas tree laden with presents but no one to see him open them. Maybe it was the fridge full of food which they'd left for him which he'd stuff in the oven and try and not forget about. Or maybe it was the fact that each and every year, someone had actually asked him over to their place. And he lied about having somewhere already to go. Cos he didn't wanna be a burden, ruin a good time. If he was gonna be miserable, he'd be miserable alone. He was so tired of putting a brave face on things. But maybe what he really needed to do was bite the bullet and say yes. Being alone the past years had sucked.

Four days until the day of the most wonderful time of the year. According to many and that one song which they kept being asked to play most days. Christmas songs were the bread and butter of the airwaves for Radio Hawkins in December, most DJs chosing to play different varieties but some of the songs remained the same. The staple diet of a nation ready for the holidays and to eat and drink more in the name of good old Saint Nic. Steve and Robin had been given the afternoon slot, just before the prime time DJ, and so were kinda the warm up act before the main event. It meant that they could get away with playing some obscurities but overall, it was more the popular stuff, both classic and modern as well as the old curveball to keep them on their toes.

"Line one dingus, you're up to bat." It didn't matter that they were no longer the sailors hauling scoops at Scoops Ahoy, dingus had stuck. But it wasn't in the manner in which he'd been labelled at first. Now it was more affection than insult, just one of the many insider jokes and banter the pair now had.

Nodding, Steve looked over at the producers, giving the good old thumbs up and it was time for his sultry (and apparently sexy according to some listeners) tones to smooth over the airwaves.

"And we're back with more holidays hits right over the air waves at Radio Hawkins. And the section, as Robin said before the break, we all know and love. It's time to hand over to the listeners and the recommendations for your Christmas tunes." Looking at the board, he selected the button nearest to him and with a smile, started with, "Hello there dear listener, who do we have on line 1 today?"

"Hello. Can I request a song for all of the Hawkins Life guards out there? " "Sure thing, and what can we play you today?" Oh wasn't that a oh so familiar voice and a glance over at Robin told him that yep, she'd cottoned onto who it was too. They didn't even have to leave a name and they knew it. Steve wondered how red Robin was gonna get before the song would end, even before the voice continued and sealed the deal. "Could we have 'Santa baby' please Mr DJ." "That we can, thanks for your call." As the line went dead, Steve leaned over to the console to locate the song in question. Now he knew it was one which had been covered a hell of a lot; apparently one of the most covered Christmas songs ever. But no doubt the main DJ of the night would play some up-beat version and what was wrong with a bit of Eartha Kitt? "We're going with the original version?" Pulling her headset off, Robin was getting a raised eyebrow, as if this was something unexpected. She knew his leaning to the classics for these sorts of things but maybe she thought their audience would beg to differ. Although, that did make him think of…. "Yeah 'course. Why, should I have gone for the sexy Michael Buble version?" "No. Steve. Why do you…" Bingo. Deep, deep red is the result to his poking, as he made kissing noises at her and she looked like she'd have thrown a pillow at him if she had one at her disposal. Instead she just leaned over and nearly set him off his chair. An act that had the producers snorting and Steve grinning from ear to ear. Once he was straight and level back on his chair. Last year, Robin may have dragged him onto the stage for karaoke on their second work's night out together. It had been a small town bar, pretty cosy and most locals but they seemed to have known the radio station folk, so there was no hostile staring. Santa Baby had been the song Robin had chosen but not for the reasons he thought at first. Both a bit drunk, he'd just thought it was an updated upbeat version for them to stumble through. Then Robin had done a 180. No longer as shy as before but like a shot of confidence had come over here. Sassy, confident and damn…. If she'd not come out to him a couple of years previous and let her feeling about him known, that would have a time which he had gotten him paying attention. But as it was, he worked out real quickly what had caused the change, or rather who. Turned out a certain life guard had shown up, on their own work's do and yeah. Robin had already scoped her out and the song? It had been for her. It had turned out, as they'd found out later that night, the feelings had been mutual. Steve had slipped away to give them some privacy and the rest….well. They'd been dating for a year now, but every time that version of the song came on, Steve wouldn't let her live it down and Robin didn't let him get away with it.

"You're such a….." The song finished and a smirk is what Robin is faced with as she gives him that face and took over hosting duties. Whilst making it so very very clear that he was gonna pay for this later. Or one day. Who knew when, but she'd seek her revenge and he'd pay his due.

Three days until Christmas Day…

He was surprised they were both not hung over. A night out with Heather and her swim team, and member of his old swim team and many, many drinks later had left both him and Robin going home late and just about getting ready enough to be able to be coherent on the air. It had taken Steve an embarrassingly amount of time to work out their set lists and he swore at times he was getting the shakes for some reason but they were working through it. Him and Robin, the dynamic duo. They'd made the bad days work at Scoops and here, as tight as ever, they'd carry each other through it. Just as they had each other on the way home. "So, we have another caller on line two. What's your name and what can we play for you this afternoon?" They'd admittedly had some banging tunes already this slot. Some golden oldies; some Slade, some Wizard. Some modern ones and some not so Christmassy tunes too. Probably from someone who either didn't like Christmas all that much or just wanted to give others a breather for a moment. After playing a bit of T-Rex and Prince, the songs had morphed back into the season and Steve was now ready to hear what the last request of the session was gonna be. A pause on a line. This happened from time to time. When there was a bad line, a disconnect or when people just didn't know what to say, or how to start. It happened more often than he'd thought when he'd started here three years ago. Nerves on the airwaves, the thought of so many ears hearing your every word. Steve got it. He'd been the same when he'd started. Now it felt as natural as breathing. Steve patiently waited for the caller to say a word or hang up. "Santa's little helpers." Giggling floated over the line and yet another familiar sound reached Steve's ears. A sigh away from the microphone as he rolled his eyes at Robin to just get a grin back. Eyes carrrying as much mischief as the kids on the line. Well, it had only been a matter of time before one of the little shits got through. He was kinda surprised at who it was though. "Hello there Santa's little helpers. Hope you're keeping warm up there in the North Pole. What can we play for you?" "What's the North Pole?"

"Can we have 'Driving Home for Christmas'. Please."

Yep it was them and Steve just smiled, Robin shaking her head but still with that mischief in her eyes. Had she set them up to this? He had no idea if she actually had; he knew she wouldn't reveal her hand yet if she had. Or maybe it was the other who had spoken who'd decided to do it. Those two were thick as thieves after all. Either way, Steve leaned back to his microphone, the song now lined up to play.

"Sure thing. Here's 'Driving Home for Christmas' for Santa's Little Helpers. Thanks for calling."

Two days….. It had been a mistake. Two nights out in a row? He should have been able to handle it. Drink never used to be a problem. But today both him and Robin were definitely paying for it. She called it the hangover from hell but worth it. He was just wondering when the hell he'd turned his headset up. Every sound felt like it was echoing inside of his head. The only saving grace was that some of the staff on the other side of the glass had also been out, what with it being the works do, so they were all collectively on the bus together. Just trying to get through another shift before their beds came a-calling. "Line number three, thanks for calling. What's your name and what can we play for you this afternoon?" This time the voice was clearly using some sort of changer. Subtle but there seemed to be a distortion on the line which felt neither like the phone line or signal and clearly wasn't caused by a human voice. Catching Steve's glance, he hovered his finger over to the line button, just in case it turned out to be some prank caller who they'd have to boot off the air pretty quickly. Wouldn't be the first one, sadly probably wouldn't be the last. "Hi, name's "Christmas Princess" and I'd like "Last Christmas" by Wham please. Love your show, thanks for taking my call." "No problem at all Christmas Princess." He knew Robin was looking over now and he knew how; he didn't have to see it. If it wasn't written all over his face in clear sight, then it was that she knew him and his history well enough that she could feel what he was going through. This song….stung. A lot, and he knew it wasn't aimed at him or anything, but it was…such a shitty Christmas song in his opinion. Full of heartache and sorrow and memories of Christmas past. Memories of her and the special someone he wished he could have given his heart to. And the word Princess….god it remembered him so much of that asshole. Not even in town no more, could be a thousands miles. To Steve, he never was away. He was always there in his head, in his heart and he felt the whole thing stumble.That tell tale of a rip occuring again, and the feel of a soft hand under the table. Steve blinked out of his thoughts and daydreaming, looking over at Robin and the producers who were pointing at the blinking "Live" sign. Smiling at everyone, Steve hoped nothing he'd been thinking had shown on his face. One look at Robin, and he saw that it had. Damn. Him and Robin had spent so much time talking about their crushes that he was so relieved when one of them got lucky. She wanted it for him too, even if she shared his opinion on his crush (being an asshole). She wanted Steve to be happy and he wanted to be finally too.

"And that was Last Christmas. Sorry to all of you trying to avoid Whamhalla. Better luck next time folks. Now who'd we have on line six."

Christmas Eve It was Christmas eve, one last shift until Christmas Day, which turns out this year, he actually wasn't gonna be spending alone after all. He'd not realised until this morning that there were several voice messages for him at home. All of which had come from the Hendersons. Mrs Henderson had happened to bump into his mom in the supermarket or some place, and she'd let on that not only would they be out of town but Steve would be staying behind. Something about work and a boring business meeting his dad had which they didn't wanna drag him along to. So of course, the first phone call had from Mrs Henderson, asking him if he'd like to come over for xmas. The second had been just a check in and polite check in. A "It's okay if you'd rather be alone but if you could let me and Dusty know, that would be appreciated." The final one had been Dustin telling him that if he didn't come around to his on Christmas Day, then his mom was gonna bring them around. Apparently his mom must have had a change of heart; Steve not finding out the why until much later on. Outwardly he'd been annoyed, rung back. Got Henderson on the phone and huffed a "Fine Henderson. Let your mom know we already have a turkey," before putting the phone down. But as Robin started to work out which lines they were gonna to be taking calls from first and he worked through the playlist they'd already arranged for the session, Steve realised that really, now the day was actually nearly here, he was relieved. So god damn relieved that it wouldn't be another meaningless Christmas. He even felt a little bad about his tone on the phone. He should have sounded grateful, not like he was doing them a favour. Something to apologise for when he saw them in person. No more time to dwell on that though as he was on main host duties today and so it was his turn to man the lines. Nodding to Robin, she hit a button and put the caller through. Steve wondering what the next Christmas 'masterpiece' in which they would be asked/forced to play would be. "Over to line four. Hi there, what's your name and what can we play you this Merry Christmas Eve?" "Yeah, hi. This is that guy with the Camaro. I want to request a song for someone special. It's that Mariah Carey song. You know, the popular one." No……no no no. It couldn't be. It had to be….someone else right? But no. He'd know that voice anywhere in the world. The inflexion in his words, his choices, his tone. Of all the god damn people to phone in and all of the times too. And of all of the god damn shitting songs he could pick. Why this one and why this. God Damn. Station. Maybe to be fair he didn't know. He'd been gone since Starcourt. Whisked away as soon as he was well enough. Had gone to catch some sun and never come back. At times Steve wished he would have stayed like Max had done. Maybe he'd have at least had the chance to say he was sorry. Maybe he could have made things right between them. "You there amigo?" The words echoed around in his head, before a little nudge from Robin brought him back around. Concentrate….he had to just treat this as another caller. Them as anyone else who wanted a song. It didn't matter how he felt about it; he had a job to do. "Yes, sorry that guy with the Camaro. All I want for Christmas is you right?" "That's the one."

The sound of a smirk in his voice made Steve want to throw up.Throw down his headset and go cry in the staff room.He'd not felt like this in so long and it was really darn hard for him to keep it together right now.But he had to. ON with the show and then he could let it all hang out when he got home. Away from the peering eyes, away from anyone's expectations of him. Then he'd be fine for when Mrs Henderson picked him up. None the wiser. "Sure man, we'll put that right on for you. Hope that special someone likes it." "Thanks man, I know they'll be listening."

Another gut punch and it was like the Byers House all over again. All he needed was a plate smashing over his head. A squeeze of his hand and Steve takes a deep breath before slipping the headset off again. Robin quickly joining him and gently putting his and hers down on the console. "Steve….." "It's okay Robin. He's probably come back to see Max for Christmas" And this special person of his. A tight lump was gripping his throat. He hated this. All of it. Most of the staff here knew about him and Robin and it didn't bother them. It hadn't stopped them from rising up the ranks, given them their own show. Some people in Hawkins would still be reviled if they knew about the pairs' sexualities but here they were safe. And he was pretty sure some of them knew about the golden haired Cali boy that he held such a torch for. Hell, one of them had even found his mixtape in the car once. Asked him about it and then reassured him that he was okay. That it was fine. He had a friend who was gay and he was going to their wedding. That had been several months back, the first person at work Steve had even told. It still didn't make this any easier. He'd gotten worse at hiding his emotions. The dam was breaking and he was struggling to stop the water now. Luckily though, the caller was gone before the song played out and Steve managed to say a hurried thanks before Robin skillfully took over the air for the last song. Gestured for him to go and take a breather. The producers nodded and let him go, didn't mind the fact he'd had to head off early. He'd wanted to say thank you to all their listeners, to wish them a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year as they wouldn't be back on the air until after the first, but he just couldn't right now. And they all knew that. Smoking hadn't been on his mind for a while, but now he fished around the bag he brought out from his locker to find the packet, slightly crumpled in a side pocket. God he needed this. God he needed….apparently a lot of things. A hug, a smile, reassuring words. A good turkey dinner and a warm fire, and family and laughter and….. At first, he ignored the buzzing of his phone. Probably just a message or a spam call or somethin'. It rang off fast enough to be either so he just stood there. Leaned against the wall and took the longest drag that he had in a real long time. Before off went his phone again, pulling against his jeans. Maybe it was Mrs Henderson. Maybe there'd been a change of plan or she needed to make sure she had the right gravy. She did like to make a fuss and always made him feel so welcome. The thought of which is what made him pull his phone out eventually. It wasn't right to keep her waiting. He'd already missed her calls and not rang her back, something else he really needed to say sorry for. But it wasn't her name that had flashed up on his screen. It was Max. Okay, that….didn't make the most sense but maybe she just wanted to wish him a Merry Christmas or….shit no, something hadn't happened had it? He'd….he'd better pick up. "Max?" "No need to sound so worried pretty boy. She's fine. Snuck out with Lucas somewhere. Probably the arcade. Dead romantic like that." Holy….shit. He couldn't stop himself from sliding down the wall, only feeling over the back of his jacket once his ass had hurt the floor. Hargrove…what the shit. He really was back in Hawkins and apparently had Max's phone on him. "Also before you lecture me, yes she has my phone. Didn't think you'd pick up if it was a strange number or anything. So, you like the song choices?"

"Song choices?" Wait choices….. Steve's face must have done a whole range of different motions as emotions rode from pillar to post. He'd rang in before. Several times. But when and…. how many times? What had he requested, other than that damn song today. The voice changer….so he'd been the shit requesting freaking Last Christmas. Now another emotion straddled the rest of them. So, was this some kinda sick joke, a wind up, a play to get him on air? He couldn't think straight. He never could around Hargrove but wasn't this typical of him? Wasn't this the usual hair playing behaviour he should have expected? Wasn't this why he liked him? Shit…. This could not be happening.

"Ah come on man? Santa baby, Driving Home for Christmas….George Michael and freaking Mariah Carey. You know how much cred I've lost just requesting that song man." "Ah great. Yeah, it totally makes sense now. You putting others up to ring mine and Robin's show and make me feel like a complete ass" "Woah woah woah amigo. No no no." A snort and then that lower tone that always made him feel like he was about to split in half. "Did you even listen to what I said to you? Listen to the lyrics of any of those songs. And here was me thinking you were a fellow music lover Harrington." Listen to the lyrics? About wanting someone, coming home to them, the whole giving someone their heart and shit and…..but it was for a special someone. All I want for Christmas is…..oh. "Get the hint yet?" His eyes darted upwards as the shadows crept over him. A familiar smile now above him. Shining ocean eyes which he thought he'd never see again. And the sound of an engine in the background and playful chatter. Max and Lucas at the arcade his ass.

"Hi there pretty boy. Look whose come back for Christmas." ……….

[strawberrybyers]

it’s obvious i haven’t taken my adhd meds in a few days because my brain is screaming every interest i have ever had and telling me to look for a tag for it to follow and then that leads me down a rabbit hole of other tags then i’m reminded of other interests and i’m having to keep up with all these things being said at me to follow. then there’s the adult voice telling me i need to stop worrying about tumblr tags and look for a job and how maybe my father was right that i am a disappointment and i’ve ruined my life. and i’m also listening to taylor swift’s new playlists so i’m thinking about grief and relationships and how maybe i’m not lovable and the idea that anyone could ever fall in love with me seems impossible. also i want to do my affirmations and meditations and visualizations but my brain has too many thoughts and i want to learn witchcraft and i want to go to this witchcraft store i found and the solar eclipse is happening on monday and do i need to do something special for that to get my desires??? also what am i going to eat for dinner? i don’t feel like cooking but ordering out is expensive but ordering out is easy and i just need to eat. and i’m spending money but not doing anything to earn money and i had a therapy session today where i realized that yes i do feel younger but also i feel small/inferior because the world feels too intimidating and judge mental so maybe i’ve been conflating “inferiority” with “immaturity”. and i also have part 2 to my autism testing tomorrow and it’s like if i am diagnosed with autism, then that gives me answers but i’m also still dealing with the disappointment, grief, sadness, anger, frustration, stagnation, trauma and anxiety regardless of my diagnosis. and how will i ever live a life that can support me and my needs and wants when capitalism and politics and mental illness is such a blockade to living a peaceful life and everything is scary and i wish i was a fairy living in a little mushroom house and i have over 500 books on my want to read list on goodreads, i have over 2000 movies in my watchlist on latterboxd, over 1700 videos on my youtube watchlist, over 1000 videos in my subscription youtube video playlist i want to watch, i have easily over 100 tv shows i want to watch written down, and i have no idea why i exist but there’s so much i want to do and it feels overwhelming and now it’s past 6pm and the whole day is gone but what did i accomplish today except another day of yearning for relief?? i guess i’ll just go through the rory culkin tag and listen to taylor swift and hope for a tomorrow that feels more organized even though my brain only knows how to be on a loop of dread and exhaustion

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 47 - Viva Las Vegas. Episode 4. I apologize for the shorter episodes, Tumblr is limiting texts posts again, and I literally have to cut a speech in half. 2nd part here <- click

------Evan's point of view------

Evan: I was very nervous, more nervous than before the ceremony, as I stood there in front of all of them, with my piece of paper in my hands, observing all of them. I cleared my throat, and took a deep breath Once again, I thank you all for being here today, and for helping Andy and I, making this day truly special. I paused a few seconds, then went on I stand before you here today, one husband richer. And I can honestly say, my heart has never been happier. I often hear, how people has a hard time figuring me out, that I keep things too close to my heart, and never show much public feelings. Well, at least no the big ones. So, for this one time, I will take all these feelings, and lay them bare, for all of you to look at. And this is how I feel; Andy, I still remember the first time I met you. You walked in with you cocky attitude, your bright mohawk and way too colorful mashup of clothes. And you walked straight into my heart. First, and for many years as my best friend, later as my lover, boyfriend, fiance, and today husband. Or should I say wife? Everyone laughed warmly Who is really the girl in this relationship? Many people will probably ask me that over the years, and my reply will always be the same. Andy. Everyone laughed again No, in this relationship, no one, is the girl, and isn't that kinda the point? He's gay, so for a girl to be in the relationship, it would mean he had gone back in time. Everyone laughed And I always only wanted him to walk forwards. He's gay, and I'm… me. And despite lacking the gay 'gene', I love my Andy, more than anything. Andy… you're the one I always looked to when I needed advice. When I needed someone to lean on. You were always there for me through the years, and for that, I'm forever thankful. I look to you and I see light, love, bright colors I gestured on top of my head to indicate his mohawk, and everyone laughed I see joy, happiness, a big heart, love and above all, I see my future. When I first found myself falling for you, I got scared, and quite a few times the thought of running away crossed my mind. But then I looked at you. This pure, innocent being, with sadness in your eyes. And all I wanted was to make you happy. No matter the cost. And that's how I knew I had to let myself tumble down the rabbits hole, no matter how frightening it seemed to me. Cause at the end of that hole, was you. And I knew I would be home. And you took my hand, and showed me how wonderful life can be. And even though I from time to time I got scared, you held on tight, assuring me everything would be fine. And it was fine. You staid by my side in all the months to come, where I was curled up in bed, scared and depressed. You never left me alone to drown. You were never pushy either, but made sure I knew you were there at my speed. Ready to give me whatever I needed, whenever I needed it. And for that, I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone. You fill my heart with so much warmth, and a love greater than I could ever have hoped for. A wise man once told me you were a rare and magnificent unicorn, one of the last on earth. I looked to Congo, and he smiled softly at me I used to think he was just being sentimental, but over this past almost year with you, I have come to realize these words are true. So if I were to describe you on this day, our wedding day, I would tell the tale, of the most enchanted creature I ever knew. The tale of the white unicorn, with the bright blue mohawk. And how he made me believe in not only myself, but also a love that conquers all. A love that will last a life time. You are the pure essence of love, floating through my veins, and everything around us. You are the reason for the smile on my lips. The sound of my beating heart, as it always beats a little faster around you.

[mariacallous]

The US Republican Party has become increasingly authoritarian and extreme in recent years, and it doesn’t seem likely to moderate that in the foreseeable future. Despite performing poorly in the 2022 midterms after running many candidates the public saw as too extreme, the GOP has decided to elevate and empower far-right lawmakers like representatives Marjorie Taylor Greene and Matt Gaetz. 

In Florida, books have been removed from school shelves as governor Ron DeSantis tries to reshape the public education system in his own image. Republican lawmakers around the US have passed abortion bans that put pregnant women’s lives in danger. The rights of transgender people are under attack throughout the country. 

Nearly half of Republicans say they would prefer “strong, unelected leaders” over “weak elected ones,” according to a September Axios-Ipsos poll, and around 55 percent of Republicans say defending the “traditional” way of life by force may soon become necessary. About 61 percent of Republicans don’t believe the results of the 2020 presidential election. 

Finding examples of extremism, a lust for authoritarian leaders, and general antidemocratic beliefs in America is not difficult these days—just spend a few minutes online. The question is how far down the rabbit hole the United States has gone and where it may end up in the not-too-distant future. 

“To call a party democratic—committed to democracy—they’ve got to do three basic things: They have to unambiguously accept election results, they have to unambiguously renounce violence, and they have to consistently and unambiguously break with extremists or antidemocratic forces,” says Steve Levitsky, a professor of government at Harvard University. “I think the Republican Party now fails these three basic tests.”

Levitsky says far too many Republican leaders have flirted with using violence to achieve their political goals and spread lies about the most recent presidential election. He says politicians like DeSantis appear to be experimenting with an authoritarian way of governing in their own states that could be applied at the national level should they successfully run for president. 

It’s difficult to find an apt comparison between the Republican Party and authoritarian movements that have risen elsewhere for a variety of reasons. One, Levitsky says, is that Donald Trump took over a party that has existed for nearly 170 years and made it more authoritarian. Historically, authoritarians tend to start their own parties. Another is that a relatively small percentage of the populace was able to wield such great power under Trump.

“There’s a minority of the population that’s pretty reactionary and, by a bunch of measures, fairly authoritarian in really all Western democracies,” Levitsky says. “The question is, how are they channeled into politics? What’s exceptional about the United States is that 25 percent or so was actually able to wield national power. Is MAGA comparable to far-right parties in Europe? Yeah. With the exception of maybe Golden Dawn in Greece, though, probably more openly authoritarian.”

Authoritarian movements of the past share characteristics with what we’re seeing in the US today—from Turkey and Hungary more recently to the rise of fascism in the 1920s—but the US governmental system and political parties present particular hurdles and windows of opportunity. 

Assuming democracy remains intact in the years to come, Levitsky thinks the GOP will have to eventually moderate its stance in response to changing demographics. The current extremism will not be sustainable if the party hopes to win enough elections to wield power in the future. However, Levitsky thinks any adjustments could take longer than one would hope.

“The problem is our incentives—the Electoral College, the Supreme Court, the fact that sparsely populated territories are dramatically overrepresented in our electoral system—allows the Republicans to wield a lot of power without winning national majorities,” Levitsky says. “If the Republican Party actually had to win over 50 percent of the national vote to control the Senate, to control the presidency, to control the Supreme Court, you would not see them behaving the way they’re behaving. They would never win.”

It remains to be seen whether Trump will be the Republican nominee in the 2024 presidential election, but there’s clear evidence that the effects of his actions wouldn’t simply disappear if he wasn’t controlling the party. A lot of Americans have been radicalized since he first took office, and it’s not easy to roll that back.

“I think the consensus is that democracy is not in the clear, and that’s because the rhetoric and actions of the GOP have emboldened their supporters to sort of accept certain behaviors that we wouldn’t have thought were in line with democracy,” says Erica Frantz, an associate professor of political science at Michigan State University. “Suddenly it’s OK to question if our elections are free and fair. Suddenly it’s OK to be provocative and suggest you might use violence if the election doesn’t go your way.”

Frantz says large sectors of the US population accept the authoritarian messaging Trump spearheaded, and that is likely going to have lasting effects. She says the fact that Trump was successfully removed from office despite his attempts to overturn the election in 2020 is a big deal, but there’s still a lot of work to be done to protect American democracy.

“I don’t think we’re going to backslide to dictatorship. The probability is higher than before Trump, but it’s still low compared to many other countries,” Frantz says. “It is very possible that we’ll muddle along for quite some time in this situation where undemocratic norms are being spouted and perpetuated by one of our main parties.”

In terms of what supporters of democracy can do in the face of an authoritarian movement, there’s no silver bullet—but there are ways to push back. Levitsky says it’s important to form large coalitions to “isolate and defeat” authoritarians, which means uniting democracy supporters on the left and the right. 

A. James McAdams, a professor of international affairs at the University of Notre Dame, says those who oppose authoritarianism need a strong message that will appeal to people who might be pulled in by authoritarian leaders. 

“If you look back historically, one of the big problems in democracies has always been that the forces of reason can’t figure out what they stand for,” McAdams says. “We’re at a point in history today in the United States and Europe where moderate parties aren’t sure what to say.”

You also need to support and strengthen democratic institutions like the courts, McAdams says. He says this is particularly important because weak courts are often part of the reason authoritarians are able to take power and chip away at democracy, such as in Latin America in the 1970s. 

“If you do have stable democratic institutions—particularly viable courts—then there’s a lot of bullshit that you can overcome,” McAdams says. “Perhaps the greatest victory for American institutions in the Trump age was that the courts weren’t overpowered.”

[inevitablemoment]

“it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Word Count: 1,026

Warnings: Stab wound, fainting, blood loss, brief mention of secondary infertility and miscarriages, brief mention of premature birth, brief mention of temporary deafness, brief mention of neonatal health issues, brief mention of the COVID-19 pandemic

Fandom: Spider-Man (Raimi films)

Pairings: Peter Parker x Mary Jane Watson

It seems to be a running trend of mine this month to write for new fandoms. So, over the past few weeks, I’ve just fallen down the rabbit hole of anything Spider-Man, and right now, the Raimi trilogy has quite a hold on me. A good percentage of this fic is me dumping my post-trilogy headcanons on you.

Enjoy!

————————

Mary Jane was no stranger to exhaustion. But the last however-many hours had been challenging her ability to keep herself going on minutes of sleep.

It was one of the two days of the week on which her alternate would perform, as well as a parent/teacher conference day for the kids’ school district. She and Peter decided to make it a family day before they would have to go to meet with their teachers.

Then, there was this flash of sparkling gold, a few seconds of darkness... and then another flash of gold.

They were still on Time’s Square, with their first stop planned to have been the Disney Store, but she couldn’t place just why it felt so different from a few seconds ago.

Peter had been the first of them to notice one of the newspaper stands, all of the papers blasted with headlines talking about how Spider-Man was a murderer and a criminal. Before she could roll her eyes, she realized that the man-- or, rather, boy-- on the image was not her husband.

Although Mary Jane and the three older children-- seventeen-year-old twins Maisie and Annie (soon to be eighteen), and thirteen-year-old Benji-- were silently thinking the same thing, three-year-old Susan had blurted out, “That’s not Daddy.”

The children, of course, knew of their father’s secret identity as the web slinging hero-- Mary Jane could only imagine how difficult it would have been for them to keep such a secret from their own children when they resided in the same house-- and had been taught from day one to keep it. Though it was tempting to brag about it to their friends.

“We’re still in New York, just not-- our New York,” Peter had tried to explain.

Even as he tried to explain the concept of a multiverse, most of the scientific jargon went over Mary Jane’s and the children’s heads-- at least, except for Maisie.

Peter immediately went to buy the newspaper bearing the likeness of his other... self? Honestly, Mary Jane didn’t know how else to describe it.

“Whoever the Peter Parker in this universe is, he needs my help,” Peter said. “I... I know he does. And not just about this. Something... something’s gonna happen.”

Mary Jane took his hand. “What do you need me to do?”

“Take the kids and find someplace safe,” he told her. “I’ll call you whenever I can, but if you have to move, tell me where you are--”

“I will,” Mary Jane promised.

“I’ll come with you!” Maisie offered.

“Me, too!” Annie offered. “We can help--!”

“No, you’ll be safer if you stay with your mom,” Peter told them. “Okay?”

Maisie was visibly grinding her teeth in frustration, but Annie-- ever gracious and accommodating, the only one of the twins who never had to be scolded twice for the same misdeed-- said, “I understand, Dad.”

Peter hugged the twins, kissing the tops of their auburn heads, before he addressed Benji.

At thirteen years old, Benji looked every bit his father’s son, but had a solemn and quiet disposition that reminded both of his parents of the man that he was named for.

Benji-- their miracle baby after two miscarriages.

Whom they almost lost during a high risk pregnancy, an emergency C-section in Mary Jane’s twenty-eighth week...

“Benji, I need you to listen to your mom while I’m gone,” Peter instructed. “Can you promise that?”

“Yes, Dad,” Benji promised.

Peter picked little Susan up from the stroller. Their little surprise, conceived and born in the midst of an unprecedented pandemic, but had been welcomed into the family with open arms.

“Daddy, you leaving?” Susan asked, her small voice breaking Peter’s heart.

“Just for a little bit,” he said. “I’m going to help someone, but I swear that I will be back as soon as I can. I need you to be good for Mommy and your sisters and brother, okay?”

“Okay,” Susan agreed.

Annie helpfully took Susan into her arms, allowing her parents to share an embrace

“Whatever’s going on, I promise that we’ll be home soon,” Peter swore to her. “I love you, M.J.”

“I love you, too,” Mary Jane said, kissing him. “Stay safe, Tiger.”

Over the next several hours, Peter kept sending her texts, telling her about what was going on. After Susan continued begging, he answered a video call, looking like he was in some sort of lab. She caught sight of two other men in the background-- the baby-faced boy that she had seen, and the other looking like he was ten years younger than her Peter, both of them wearing their own versions of her husband’s suit. The boy from the pictures looked significantly beat up, making her stomach sink as she wondered what in her Peter’s history had just happened for him.

Almost an hour after the video call, everyone else around them began talking about “Spider-Man livestreaming with the Daily Bugle.”

One man had been gracious enough to show Mary Jane the video. It wasn’t her Peter, though. But as she heard the Peter of this world speak, her heart breaking for him as she heard his voice.

“Mom, is Dad there?” Maisie asked, looking over her mother’s shoulder.

“I... I don’t see him, Mayday,” Mary Jane said.

She couldn’t even recall how much time passed before she saw that flash of gold again. But, in an instant, they were standing in the living room of their townhouse.

Peter-- her Peter-- was standing before her.

Without a second thought, she rushed into his arms. The kids almost turned the hug into a full tackle, but he didn’t seem to mind. Mary Jane’s hands began to run up and down his back before she felt something on her hands. She pulled her hand back, and her stomach dropped.

Blood.

“Peter, what happened?” she asked.

“MJ, it’s not as bad as it looks, I swear,” Peter tried to reassure her.

But, he failed as he began to keel over.

“I’ll call 911,” Annie was the first to jump to the occasion, while Mary Jane put her hand over where she had found the wound.

Please... please be okay...

[cherrynika]

sebchal I'm never going to finish

summary: charles connives/trains seb into bottoming

A few months ago Charles finally allowed Mia to take control of his Twitter. “It will be better for everyone, you won’t have to worry about what to post and when to post anymore. And maybe you will sleep better if you can’t check it.” She says, as though it’s for his own good. He smiles at her without teeth, the polite, closed-lipped smile reserved for teachers.

What she doesn’t know won’t hurt either of them. He starts another Twitter account and let’s his mind wander, liking whatever he wants, saying what he wants, watching what he wants. He’s lost anonymity in every other part of his life, but where he goes on the internet is strictly his own business. 

When Twitter doesn’t know him the suggestions are different and strange.

The biggest revelation so far has been popping videos. A man’s pitted and oily cheek fill up his screen, a metal loop is digging roughly at a swollen pore. The sallow plug is forced out, the pore stretching around it. The plug finally pops out of its hole. It gapes a little before blood rushes to the surface and covers it up. He wants to wipe it away and see if the rim is torn. 

Charles’ fingers itch, he’s never allowed himself to pop his own pimples and blackheads; everyone in Monaco knows it will leave a scar. Put an acne patch on in the day, Differin at night. He retweets so that he can watch it again later more closely and tweets at Dr Pimple Popper, “Wish I could do that.” Maybe he could have been a dermatologist if he hadn’t spent his youth racing karts.

“Don’t fall down a rabbit hole, Charles. Twitter is full of trolls.” Sebastian says while stirring the eggs on the stove (low fire, in a bain marie, a new agonizing way to make scrambled eggs that he had found in a book). 

“I’m not,” he replies without looking up, thumb still flicking over the screen. The ads he has been receiving lately are pretty interesting; he’s been informed of an ultra-high-end drug rehab in Switzerland which he saved for future reference, and lacy crotchless panties for the male form on Wish.com. They are cheap enough to buy without thinking, he gets one each in 5 different sizes. They look decidedly unerotic on the mannequin, but he can imagine how tightly the polyester will bite around the legs, how the waist band would squeeze a well-padded hip.  

“I know about your online shopping addiction. Some of your packages arrived when were in Baku. Do you still want them?”

Several more intriguing suggestions appear on the sidebar, helpfully announcing. “Customers who bought this also liked” mint lube, hand warmers, vinyl harness and a buy two get one free deal for anal plugs. Anal plugs. 

Charles looks up. Sebastian has taken his eyes off the pot, head cocked and waiting for an answer. “What was inside?”

“I didn’t open them. They’re in my office.” 

Charles tries to think of what they might be. Sometimes when he can’t sleep due to jet lag, online shopping is comforting. It’s still a novel sensation to be able to fill up a cart and checkout without thinking twice. Perhaps it’s the BAPE sweatshirts or the sheet music he’s not going to have time to read. 

“Did it say where they came from?”

“I can’t remember. Lucky boy, you’ve got a surprise from past-you.” Sebastian’s gone back to focusing on the pot. He always falls for recipes that are deliberately difficult or inconvenient. 

He walks over to the stove to take a look. The eggs are solidifying but slowly. “My mum never used a bain marie to make scrambled eggs. I don’t think this a real recipe.”

The sunlight coming in through the window lights up the hair on Sebastian’s arms. He’s taken off the Oura which he’d always hated wearing. “Then it will be new for us both.”

--

There’s so many things Charles wanted to ask Sebastian when they were still tearing at each other on the race track but could never bring himself to. He’s watching Sebastian watch him open himself up when his curiosity raises its head again. The afternoon sunlight picks out the blonde highlights in his hair and the dip of his collarbone. Charles had tied his wrists to the headboard tighter than usual with one of his old ties, he wanted it to bruise; perks of summer break. 

“I’m not going to put a condom on you.” Sebastian nods mutely. This is one of the great things that came out of an uncomfortable discussion last season where Charles admitted he wanted more than occasional post-race fucks. He straddles him and carefully guides the head of his cock, already standing at attention, into his body. The drag of skin on skin as it catches on his rim are sparks on a tinderbox. 

Sebastian’s breathing speeds up as Charles slides down onto him. There’s a phantom of an ache but nothing extreme, he’s wide open having come on Sebastian’s prick three times in as many days. Still almost as though the intrusion forced something out of him the question slips out. 

“Don’t you want to get fucked?”

“We did it once.” He’s flushed to his chest and slightly distracted. 

Charles grinds down on him, the pubic hair at the base of Sebastian’s cock abrades his rim in a way that should be irritating but he wants all the nasty parts of him. Sebastian’s cock jerks inside him as Charles leans over him and thumbs his nipple, making him squirm like a restive horse. “And you didn’t come. Was it your first time?”

“Charles, it's just not interesting to me. I just don’t like it.” Pity. 

He puts the flat of one hand beside Sebastian’s head and the other on his throat, putting some weight, not all of it, he’s careful, and grinds down on his own dick, sandwiched between them. Sebastian’s hips buck into him erratically, hitting

His orgasm takes him by surprise, losing his grip and slumping over onto Sebastian’s chest, cum spurt into him

He picks up the thread of their conversation again when he can. “It’s good and you’re missing out. Can I try to make it good for you?” untying his hands

“Are you bored?” Sebastian gazes up at him. His curls are damp with sweat, if they’re lucky he’ll have bruises on his neck that keep him from leaving the house. 

“No. But–” there’s so many things that Charles isn’t sure if he should say. Perhaps it’s too naive to say to a man who’s been having sex for 15 years: No, but I want to be the key to unlock you. No, but I think I can change you. 

“Ok. You can try.” He says, running a hand around Charles’ ass and squeezes. 

-

Zandvoort was, as expected, Max’s homecoming party. Charles turns the race over in his head, watching the highlights on F1.com while listening to Sebastian shower. The air conditioning has the delightful smell of a high end hotel and the highlights are enchanting, full of orange smoke that he’d barely noticed while racing. P5 is good, just out of the podium places, but safely ahead of Carlos who came in 7th. The ache in his shoulders feels like a warm blanket of promise: the next race will be better. 

Sebastian let him into his room before retreating into the shower. He’s sulking and moody about spinning. Charles plays the video again and again on his phone as Sebastian tries to drown himself under the rain shower. Valtteri who’s lapping him just manages to avoid T-boning him. Anxiety rises in him, he can’t feel the terror when he’s going around fast corners but it’s different when he watches Arthur, and now Sebastian. 

The shower stops and he shuts his phone off, placing it face down on the nightstand. 

[wigglesforsquiggles]

1-10 >:]

this is the second time i've had to type this bc as i finished tbis it got DELETED ;-;

1. what are 3 things you'd say shaped you into who you are?

uhh one is definilty when i discovered you tube for the first time and promptly got sent down a medical rabbit hole, leading to my intense fear of rabies, seeing a dedication video to a dead child by their parents who were convinced he was jesus incarnated (as in, actual jesus, not a metaphor for being an angel), and the little part of my brain that diagnoses me with every disease i learn about

another would be kneeling on the landing next to my sibling late at night, watching my parents watch tv. you could just about see into the living room from there, and we often snuck down the first set of stairs to watch tv once we were sent up to bed bc we were bored children and didn't want to sleep. i always felt to proud whenever we heard my dad stand up (he has knees that click like a horse) and ran upstairs giggling before he could catch us out of bed. looking back we obviously made a lot of noise and were definitely not as subtle as we thought

lastly i'll say getting lost in this museum when i was like 5. there was this mini gift shop half way through the museum and i got distracted with an etch-a-sketch (it was the first time i had seen one) and fiddled with it for a while (i was trying to figure out how it made lines), and then i looked up and i was alone in a massive room. i must have cried a little, but i stayed where i was and waited for my parents to find me (despite wanting to go further into the museum to find them), and eventually they came back for me :D i can't remember if i went to an employee and told them i was lost or not but it was very scary at the time

I just remembered what i put originally for one of the paragraphs so u get an extra one. one time i read the part of the huger games where Rue dies 3 times a day for a week to make myself cry just to prove i could. i can't tell you a reason past i would still do this today if i used my kindle more

2. show us a picture of your handwriting?

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

i must confess i almost never rewatch anything - my ability to watch films ourside a cinema is almost non existent anyways lmao

the only time ive rewatched any film is The Old Guard where i needed to show it to all my friends but could only hang out w them on different days, leading me to watch the film 5 times over 2 weeks.

maybe i'll say the mama mia films bc ive only watched them w friends and it's just fun to sing along

4. what's an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

ok, do not question me with this but "arson" being a code word for incest

i will not explain more than telling you lockdown was a weird time and a conversation that starting with immortal fairies having dna lead to this

it's very funny thoigh when i randomly hear the word and this specific firend and i make eye contact, trying not to laugh at a joke only we know

5. what made you start your blog?

i saw so many tumblr posts screenshotted in instsgram, and i finally caved and got in on the action :D

6. what's the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

best - making friends :D i love being able to talk to people all over the world and just ask how they are and see their opinions. @ ing ppl on posts that make me think of them is an unmatched joy :D

worst - the discourse. i get upset rly easily and also am still working on my critical thinking skills so it's easy for me to get caught up in drama and let it affect me emotionally. i only rly. price it when im offline for a few days and go: wow i feel so normal

7. what scares you the most and why?

death, mostly. i used to stay up late at night and cry silently because i was so scared about not existing anymore. simply my mind being gone and not being able to do anything about it. but i just don't think about it anymore and it's all good :D

8. any reoccurring dreams?

like 30% of my dreams are reoccurring actually. all my dreams are incredibly vivid and nonsensical (more random plot points being put together like a game of madlibs more than anything else)

i guess i'll say the one about being stuck in a water parkour course in a pair, (with the aesthetic of fire bot and water girl) and finally climbing up a vine with my partner after being faster than everyone else, and getting to attend a lesson on how to have lesbian sex - in a room like my local gym (and worrying bc i wasn't out in this dream)

9. tell a story about your childhood

i got to play moshi monsters for the first time on my mums red laptop on the island counter at age 9 i think - but i had to stand up because my foot was in a blue container filled with salt water because there was a splinter the length and width of my pinky stuck in the bottom of it

i later went to a&e to get it taken out after a day because it took that long to convince me to go to the hospital (i was terrified of pain and medicine and wouldn't let anyone touch it). the doctor that saw me was very nice and used numbing spray (very cold) and got it out in under 5 seconds. to this day the only time ive been in hospital bar being a baby.

10. would you say you're an emotional person?

oh 100% - it's a meme amongst my friends at this point. i was assigned those greyhounds that jenna marbles has that look like they're crying all the time , for reasons you can guess

i also feel things very intensely, happiness anger and fear are all very overwhelming to me and it's only in the past few years ive been able to get them partly under control

[brokenfoxproductions]

At a certain point, I need to admit to myself and my treatment team that I've significantly backslid since July 4th.

I *might* kinda definitely be dealing with a relapse of my eating disorder. I've been trying my best to deal with it and just keep going, but the past few days made me realize that I'm pretty far gone down the rabbit hole again, and I've lost about 30 pounds without realizing it.

I'm having so many seizures. For years, I've been able to get them down to one every few months with treatment, but I've had over a dozen since July, including three in the past few days. They're really affecting my mood, and I keep aggravating my back issues because of them. It's not really being helped by how expensive my medication is, how limited my alternative options are (my neurologist's only suggestion was to go back on gabapentin, which makes me exhausted to the point where I can't function), and the high amount of stress I'm under from our rather sudden eviction and the court case from July.

I'm getting worse at coping with my intrusive thoughts and compulsions to do self destructive stuff. I don't want to elaborate, I'm safe and haven't (and won't) harm anyone or anything living, but my phone and some of my other belongings are very close to getting chucked at a wall due to the situation.

I've also been metaphorically poking bears knowing damn well I'm gonna get fucked up, so there's that.

I wish I had a way out of this situation. I want to get better. I'm just not coping with the pressures in my life.

[dzpenumbra]

8/19/23

Alright I'm just gonna start this by saying... I'm really not pleased with how Instagram works. I don't know if its the design of it (algorithms)... if it's the fact that I don't use the app to interact with other peoples' shit that often... or that others don't use it the way that I do? Or a combination of the three? I don't know. But I really... ugh... I'm tired of blaming myself for something that's clearly not my fault.

You can't fucking say something "isn't a career", and then even remotely insinuate that you are required to devote at least an hour or two a day to merely just browsing fucking social media and commenting and shit... when that isn't even in your fucking job description. I'm just venting because I put up not just one... but two posts today. And so far? 3 fucking likes. I doubt people have even seen it. And for those who did, it's just another thing for them to scroll past. My more impressive piece... somehow has just gone completely unnoticed because I posted it first... and has gotten zero interaction. My deer drawing on my pants. My realistic deer drawing done in fabric ink on my cargo shorts, that I'm really proud of. Zero interactions.

Here, I will show you exactly what Instagram has deemed is just... not fucking worth even looking at.

It's so deeply demoralizing to be just... completely unseen. For years. For over a decade. It fucking sucks. (I swear, if I hear "you just need to put yourself out there" one more fucking time...)

I truly have believed for so long that like... the mark of a true career artist is not their skill, it's their passion and their perseverance. It's their ability to endure, because what the fuck else are they going to do?!

I don't want to go too deep down a rabbit hole of existential dread here, because yeah... This is really the reason I struggle to regularly post on social media. It's really like having a small gallery showing and inviting all your friends, and fucking one person shows up, looks at one painting for 5 seconds, says "I like the colors" and then "I have to go pick up my kid, keep up the good work!" I'm under no delusions here that I'm not going to get paid for that. I'm not going to be able to pay my rent on that. And I won't be able to put out a solid body of work if I reserve my art time for a few hours on the weekend. This deer took a total of close to 10 hours in 3 sessions. So... what took 3 days here... would take 3 fucking weeks if I was working some side gig. Try keeping up with Instagram's algorithm demands at that motherfucking pace. The deer isn't even the whole fucking piece, this is just the start.

So... I'm a bit upset. Did you notice? XD I guess just kinda frustrated that like... I spent my whole life working and training and I got really fucking good at something... and I'm incredibly inspired! And I'm working myself to the bone! And I don't even need compensation to keep me productive, I don't even need reception to keep me productive, because my inspiration flow is external and continuous. I just need to keep my arms in shape so I can work for more than a handful of hours at a time without burning out my arms and fingers. It's deeply deeply painful to put this much time and dedication into something that is... so all-encompassing to my purpose on this planet... and to get so many fucking genuine compliments of awe-struck people completely baffled that I, myself, with my own hands, created that from nothing. Reactions that people can't fucking fake, so I know they're real, I know I have talent. And this... all of this... means absolutely nothing. Because I can't pay rent with compliments. And my rent is through the roof. And I'm not willing to sell my soul. And my process does not work by trying to second-hand decipher someone else's inspiration, it works through direct connection to something beyond me. My own inspiration. That process is all I know, it's what I have trained for over 15 years.

I know very well... that if I spend the majority of my time behind a fucking desk or a counter or a stove somewhere just trying to keep the lights on... my connection with my inspiration will wane... and I will get physically sick... and I will feel completely detached from myself, lost, aimless, purposeless. I will dissociate, I will go into crisis mode. Just like I always do, every time I ignore art.

I literally tried to stop myself from going down this rabbithole and then just swan-dove down it anyway. XD

Welp, good thing we live in a society that is driven by popularity and wealth rather than skill, passion and integrity. It really seems to be doing a lot of good for us...

Okay, I promise I'm done. I just needed to get that out. I really don't want to dwell on that because I had a good day today, despite it raining all day.

I've been super hungry today... I woke up 4 hours into my sleep cycle, downed a heaping bowl of raisin bran and went back to sleep for another 2 hours... and somehow woke up starving. Depression, maybe? Not sure. Maybe my dinner last night was just much lighter than I thought. I started the day full-on consumed by the idea of reaching out to the friend who Facebook messaged me 2 years ago, whose message I just discovered last night. The friend that I drove 12+ hours and crashed on her pullout couch on my first time meeting her in person, who I used to play minecraft with back then. She has an Instagram that I discovered a few years back and she does really well-made cosplay stuff. Yeah. She's art-inclined. She was in school for Engineering when I met her. I have no idea how she makes it work, but she does it. And... I hope I'm not selfish for thinking this... but reconnecting with her could really change my life... because we already have some form of established relationship, and she could possibly help me find a place to fit my skills that will actually help pay the bills. Or hell, maybe even she herself needs an assistant, who knows? At very least, its rekindling a friendship from a decade ago.

I messaged her. Instagram does the whole... message request thing, so I could only send one. I wanted to send her a picture of the pristinely preserved poster that she gave to me when I visited her in her apartment when she was in college, that has been sitting in my acoustic guitar case ever since she gave it to me probably over 10 years ago at this point. I thought that would be the fucking coolest way to announce who was contacting her. But... I felt like sending an image as a first contact... if it wasn't an image that's shown... to a woman... yeah... Didn't want to risk getting screened there. So... I announced myself the boring way, told her I just saw her FB message (without saying "sorry", proud of myself for that) and said "tag, you're it". Still waiting to hear back from her, but it's Friday night so... yeah.

The other thing I decided to do spur of the moment? Contact the "former friend" who commissioned the logo design from me. Finally. Just... sending the text that I had prepared. Just pushing the green send icon. To tell him I'm not the right guy for the job. And I'll tell ya, it was not unlike doing a shove it when I was skateboarding the other day. I even said audibly to myself, "just jump forward". The advice I give to myself to get myself to land it when I do shove its. (I also didn't say sorry in this message, which was tremendously difficult and a very big accomplishment for someone who deeply struggles with a fawning response.) I got a huge shot of adrenaline when I sent that message. I haven't felt one like that in a while. But I just put my phone away and immediately went over and started to heat up my clothing iron to heat-set the paint on my pants.

I heat-set both the jeans and the hoodie. It took like... a minute, each. I was just like... "why the fuck did I stress about this so much?" XD I hope I did the right heat, I tried to follow the labels on the clothes. I hope I did the right time, the paint said 30 seconds... and I did a minute or more just to play it safe. I honestly have no way to tell if it's heat-set, I guess I'll have to find out the hard way.

That's what prompted the Instagram posts. Because my skating jeans and my shorts are going to have to go in the wash. My jeans because they're getting kinda nasty from me sweating in them and I need them for skating. My shorts with the deer on them because I need to test just how permanent these paint markers really are... Yep, that deer was a fucking test run. That wasn't even a finished piece. Imagine what a finished piece would look like...

So... I decided it would be wise to take some pictures of what I've been up to the past few weeks and share them. I did the shorts first, got a really nice photoshoot of them. I wrote a really well thought out description and added about 10 hashtags... not that it really seems to make a fucking difference... it's super rare that hashtags get me any new attention. I posted, then did the jeans and repeated the process.

The rest of my night was yoga, showering, prepping homemade salsa - which was very short on tomatoes, and the habanero that I got was really mild for some reason... so it did not come out nearly as good as was hoping... - then cooking dinner, eating and... here I am. Yep, that was my day. I didn't even draw anything today, unfortunately. I did take the trash out, that was good. But I did not end up doing laundry. The night just got away from me with all the prep and cooking and all that.

This kinda brings me to something I've been wanting to do before I end this journal project, it's been running through my head all day. One story that I haven't told. My side, at least. I'm sure I've told bits of the side effects, the traumas caused. Visiting Facebook last night brought it back, and I just really want to get it off my chest to prove to myself that it's really not as bad as I think. The quote my therapist and many others have thrown my way, that I seem to perpetually forget and remember over and over - "you were doing the best you could with what you knew at the time."

I was listening to a Don Quixote audiobook while I was making dinner tonight. At least... I was trying to. All I managed to get through in my over an hour of cooking was basically the life story of Miguel de Cervantes; translators notes, I think it was? I knew nothing about this story other than its legendary satirical status, and the iconography of a flamboyant and... I guess stupid?... knight who fought a windmill thinking it was a dragon or something. Thus... why I wanted to actually absorb the actual tales, because culture is important and I wanted to actually know the actual stories, not just second or third-hand recaps. Welp, with my extremely limited knowledge of Don Quixote, this was my personal story that I equate in my memory to that.

It was summer 2019, as a lot of my traumatic experience stories tend to date to... I was smoking a lot of weed back then, for the first time in over 10 years. It started as a way to make getting off of Xanax easier, and to help with sleep, then it sorta became more of a spiritual and creative tool, and eventually it just became something I did regularly as though it was tobacco, because almost all of my tobacco was mixed with weed. I stopped buying weed from dispensaries because my brother wouldn't go on trips to pick up with me anymore, and I really felt weird leaving my dog in the car while I waited in line for up to an hour, it really didn't feel right... and I didn't want to leave her alone at home while I drove for like a 3 hour trip just to get weed. It was a whole thing. So I ended up buying this absolute dogshit gutter weed from a guy I used to go to high school with, who lived up the road. He... yeah, you can form your own judgements on him in the next "scene".

So... he came over to my house and smoked with me on my porch, he brought his small dog with him too. My dog and his met, it was fine and uneventful. His dog was getting old. We smoked and I got pretty high, and I am just flat-out not experienced at all with being high around other people, much less around people I don't entirely know or trust. It is not a muscle I have flexed, and I get really freaked out. Well... I started freaking out a bit. Mostly because he was sitting on my porch telling me... my "parents were right" and I should give up this art dream and go get a "real job". While he was day-drinking on my porch and smoking with me. And that just sent me immediately into surreal "you are not safe" mode. Which... guess what? Was a correct reaction! That was not a healthy situation for me to be in, with someone calling their self my "friend", and yet again... placing judgement over what I do with my entire life... my career... based on zero knowledge or even interest in what I do, or what I plan on doing. Ignorance. And siding with my parents, knowing absolutely nothing about them or their perspective... that was nothing short of foolish.

I somehow managed to handle that anxiety attack. I came back from it and did not spiral. I don't think he even goddamn noticed. The conversation just moved on. I don't know if I confronted him, I very very likely did not. What ended up happening not long after ended up snapping me out of it anyway. His small dog, a Toto kinda dog but greyish white, rolled over onto his side and started yelping uncontrollably and grinding his ear into the concrete slab floor of the back porch. I was so insanely overwhelmed, and the dude just got up and treated it completely normally, like this is a regular thing. And started talking about how his dog had ear problems and he had no idea what it was and it was really "annoying" and shit like that. I remember he was talking about pulling like... really long strings out of his dog's ears and not knowing what was going on. And I was like... dude, I'm really high, don't talk about this in that kind of detail... XD It was really freaking me out. Also, go to a vet!!!

He ended up leaving not long after, his dog somewhat recovered enough to go home peacefully. The thought of ears stuck with me. What caused that? What made it come on so suddenly and so severely? Could I help him by figuring this out?

I'm not sure if I was experiencing it before, but I definitely experienced it after that incident with that dude's dog - I was having my ears pop constantly that summer. I really couldn't figure out why. Maybe humidity and pressure changes? Maybe because I just started to be hyper-aware of my eardrums and kept just compulsively trying to pop them... like when you're really high and you suddenly become aware of your breathing, and you have to like... manually breathe... and you get afraid that you might have "forgotten" how to automatically breathe, and if you stop manually breathing you might asphyxiate... Honestly, it was probably just one of those things. But I started to become hyper-aware of that all the time. And the big one... the one that sent me down the rabbit hole... I saw my dog, my retired service dog, my co-pilot, rubbing her ears a lot, and rubbing them on the carpet. That set me off.

I was never taught how to groom or care for a dog. Because my family did not take good care of their dogs, and were too prideful to ask for help or instruction, or go to a groomer. They still are to this day, it truly pains me to see it. When my dog died, I gifted her grooming tools to my mom and actually took the time to like... give her a little clinic on how to use them right there, on her dog - not asking if she knew how to use them, just going straight into showing, so she didn't feel ashamed. But I was never taught how to clean my girl's ears. And she has been very prone to ear infections since a young age. I had to learn how to clean her ears on my own, which is fuckin spooky when you have a German Shepherd and she starts grunting like she doesn't want you in there anymore. And, I hate to say, but in my deeper stages of depression and... what the fuck is the term for when a counseling center misdiagnoses you and puts you on trial runs of medications for conditions you don't have for 2 years while you're in an unfathomably toxic relationship, do they have a word for that? Well... in my deeper stages of that... I didn't take good care of my dog. And she formed a blood clot in her ear from scratching at it. And she had to get surgery for it. The surgery left a big scar and left one of her iconic pointy German Shepherd ears floppy for the rest of her life. I... still haven't forgiven myself for that, even though it really isn't fully my fault. But man, it still... the guilt. Yeah.

So... seeing my baby... rubbing her ears again... And feeling my own ears popping in sync with it... And feeling this eerie, spooky feeling like I was in a haunted house or a horror movie or something... and not being able to see any visible wax buildup or anything in her ears... It was too much. Nothing was making sense and I needed answers. And I started connecting dots to this video I had watched not long before by the YouTuber Adam Neely, who does music theory videos, he's really good. He did a video on infrasound, which... maybe you've heard of something called a "mosquito alarm" or something to that effect, it's a machine that makes an extremely high pitched sound that only young people can hear to deter them from loitering (aka to hurt their ears or upset them so much that they won't stay there). Infrasound would be the other side of the spectrum. Infrasound is very low frequency sound that is sometimes used in movies or... get this... haunted houses... because it is often imperceptible in our conscious listening, but we still process the sound... and it tends to produce a feeling of unease, and induce anxiety. In my scientific mind... it ticked all the boxes. I could explain away my ears popping as anxiety or hypervigilance, I could explain away my surreal, horror movie feeling as anxiety, but I couldn't explain my dog's reactions, or the other dude's dog's reactions either. And this, felt like it could explain all of it.

I remember that day, I went out to the stream at the edge of my yard. I was making a Zen Garden in the stream, I would go out there every day. I would sort through the gravel for beautiful stones, and I would make different shaped pools, and contour the stream, and dam and dry flooded areas, and make waterfalls. I even got to the point where I started trying to control the pitch of the waterfalls by making small pools where the water fell into, and adding or removing stones to alter the pitch. Then I tried to get the waterfalls to either be in tune, or harmonize. It was a really fucking cool idea that I really want to revisit someday. Anyway, I went to the stream, and went out to the pond edge of it to just kinda chill and reflect before the sun went down, and I looked out over the pond and what did I see? The new windmill they put up, on the far side of the small neighborhood directly across the pond. Pointed directly at me and spinning.

My gears started turning... I went... wait... do those things make sound? I mean... it's gotta make sound, it's like a giant fan... Do those make... infrasound? Go Google it for yourself. They absolutely do.

I started going into science mode. "I need evidence". I can't fucking test it, by like... asking the dude to turn it off or something, see if my dog feels a difference... I ended up finding an app that claimed it could record infrasound. Still don't know if it's legit, but... I did it. I recorded samples from my porch and yep, that thing was definitely showing infrasound readings clear as day.

This is where my embarrassment starts. Where the shame stuff starts. And the big thing carved in my head from therapy environments because of how lifechanging it was for me: trauma = shame. Shame hits people with PTSD different, from what I've seen and experienced. And at that phase of my life, I was much more concerned with safety and moving life forward, rather than letting fear of Judgement or Shame rule my life. Well, Judgement and Shame had other plans, and what ensued still haunts me to this day.

I drove over to my parents' house... I think the next afternoon. I walked in and insisted to talk to my mom. She refused to talk to me and started getting visibly angry with me, started yelling at me. I had multiple articles bookmarked on my phone, I had the recording, she did not want to see fucking any of it. She got mad and told me to leave her house immediately. I still don't understand that reaction, it had to be panic or trauma or something, it just makes no fucking sense to me. You see your adult child really scared, but just looking for a second opinion on what they've found before actually believing this theory. And you get angry and refuse to listen or look at what they found, and tell them to leave your property. Hindsight? Kind of a red flag...

I, lifelong PTSD-ridden as I am, naturally blamed myself. Yes, me going to my family for a second opinion was "clearly" an act of aggression. Yes, me seeking support in a time of crisis was "clearly" an imposition on them. Yes, me showing up at the house I grew up in unannounced was "clearly" uncalled for and invasive. What was I thinking?! You can tell a bit about my history given that these sentences were not sarcastic in my head at the time, I only shook this cult-like brainwashing very recently, within the past few years. I still struggle with it.

Now I was on my own. But I needed to do something. And my dog and cat were still at home alone. And that windmill was still spinning. And I needed to figure out what to do, what was even happening. So... I... went home. I passed a neighbor's kid on the way into my driveway, he had gone fishing by my house before, I offered his mom to give him guitar lessons if he wanted but they never followed up. They were cousins of the guy whose dog freaked out with the ear thing on my porch. I told the kid about the sound and asked if their dogs had any problems with their ears too. The dog thing? I figured dogs were more sensitive to sound than humans... I don't know, I was grasping for straws. I didn't really get much out of that, but in hindsight... it must've been weird for the kid to be flagged down and talked to about windmills and sound waves and shit. This kinda "tinfoil hat vibes" stuff pre-Covid was kiiiiinda embarrassing. (I mean, it's still embarrassing, it's just more people are publicly doing it now and it's getting oddly normalized.)

I ended up calling my vet that was around the corner. I pleaded with them to just tell me if this was a thing that other dogs in the area were dealing with, if there was a pattern. They told me... HIPPA. They fucking HIPPA'd me about general info whether there was a pattern of dog ear problems in the neighborhood. And I got a bit upset about that, I was legit just trying to gather scientific data. Honestly, this entire time... all I fucking needed was someone to fucking talk to. Someone to just make sense of what was going on and try to find some kind of answer, because it's one thing for me to suffer... I'm not going to sit here and do fucking nothing while my girl suffers. She doesn't deserve that.

Sounds like I'm still there. I'm absolutely reliving this right now. So... that's what led me to... Facebook. The last place I could think of. None of my "friends" would talk to me, they already lost their shit on me and peaced out because I asked them to show their support of my art/streaming career in a time of need. I was well and truly isolated. And I really needed someone to help me get perspective, to help - and I say this dead serious, I was literally saying it verbatim the whole time - to help prove me wrong. I was begging literally anyone to prove me wrong. Help me find a narrative that makes more sense than this, that has more evidence than this. From the very beginning, I did not want the windmill theory to be the truth. Because that meant I had to fucking move, and I had no plan whatsoever. And I was still detoxing off of meds and shit, I was in no condition to be moving. But I wasn't about to just sit in that haunted-ass house and watch my dog suffer every fucking day if there was something I could do about it.

I got off of Facebook in 2016 - meaning... my account was inactive. My ex and I got back on FB and posted a tiny bit when our relationship was doing okay. I used to fish back then, so I'd post fishing pictures and pictures in my garden and all that. But that stopped very quickly with how toxic the relationship was, and I never went back. Welp... I went back. And I posted about the windmill. And I wrote the most honest case I had. That this was my theory, this was the evidence I had found, can someone please prove me wrong? I don't remember if it was that day, or a later point... but I can actually hear in my head the dude who sold me weed saying on the phone to me "you really need to delete that post man, people are gonna think you're nuts". Or something, like he was "looking out for me". Again, little seeds planted along the way. I swear his fucking voice is like the embodiment of my anxious and self-destructive thoughts, like a fucking demon, man. What a dick.

I remember my former best friend in middle school commented on it. The first time I had heard from him in years, and the last time since. He commented something level-headed about how he would look into it and get back to me, and he didn't. That one still haunts me. Like... I'd really like to reconnect with him now that I'm a much more... complete person. Now that I actually know who I am. But I'm just so worried that he's going to look at me like some delusional nutjob.

It is so fucking hard to type when you hear what sounds like a bluefin tuna flopping on the floor above you. Especially when it's a sensitive topic, and it's 2AM. It makes me physically jump. If it continues happening past 3, I'm 100% calling the on-calls.

Anyway. Yeah. I did go back and delete that FB post. Pretty quickly. And I never went back to Facebook. All of my social contacts accumulated throughout my life were left behind because of a panicked attempt to keep my adopted animal daughters safe, and just try to understand what was happening around me. That moment was... what I equate to my solo-pandemic. It was the same exact feeling for me as the beginning of the pandemic, except it wasn't happening to anyone else and everyone around me was being aggressive insensitive assholes and telling me it wasn't real and I was crazy.

That night... was very bad. I'm not sure if I deleted the post the next day or that night... but I spent a huge chunk of the night just pacing around my apartment. Good lord, it's all flooding back, that night was so fucking cinematic I can't even put it into words. It would honestly make a good comic strip or short animation or something. But it would honestly just look like a garbled dream or something, like... it would be too strange for fiction. It would make too little sense and be too unbelievable to be presented in that medium.

It was past midnight. I had made it several hours of not having anyone talk to me, but it was just spiraling, I was completely alone, I had nothing but silence and space to think. And my dog kept fucking rubbing her ears. And I just hit a breaking point and said "I need to find a place to stay tonight that isn't here, I can't subject us to this anymore." I saw it this way... If it was physically affecting me and my dog? We were away from it for one night to see if it made a difference. If it was in my head? At least we were in a safe place, with "supportive people".

I got my dog ready, I got a small bag packed with essentials. But... I couldn't bring my cat. I couldn't get her to go into her crate. And that... I mean... it was fucking horrible, man. I was on my knees in the living room crying next to the crate because I had to leave my cat behind. This panic just kept pressing harder and harder like the house was on fire and I was just subjecting my pets to essentially low-grade torture being in that home. And the more I thought about it, the more I inflated that narrative and it kept feeling bigger and bigger and more imminent and more urgent. In the past, I would have been too ashamed to talk to anyone about any part of it, and I would have distracted myself with TV or video games and just let my pets suffer. Like a sociopath. Out of fear, out of shame. I was trying to overcome that. To not let Fear rule my life. And somehow... I put the steering wheel right back into Fear's hands, quite literally.

I left my cat behind. I took my dog out to my car. It was probably around 1 or 2AM. We got out to the car and, I shit you not, there was a fucking possum between us and the car. Big guy, hissing and everything. And Cer shockingly didn't bark. She was just like "what the fuck is that thing..." And it took off, luckily. I was already committed. I got her in the car and started driving. It was foggy. I was calling people, trying to find a place to stay. There weren't a lot of numbers to call. There was the number of a nurse that I knew at the retreat the consoling center sent me to, she seemed nice enough to potentially offer me a roof over my head. But she lived almost 2 hours away. There was a guy I used to live with for a very short period of time in the city, we tried to join a band, but he wasn't answering.

I drove to the dude who sold me weed's house since it was just up the road. I sat in his driveway for like... 2 minutes? I don't know if I called him or not, but I ended up leaving without even knocking. He gave me hell for it the next day because he had to go to work the next morning. At a gas station. You know, priorities... It's not like the entire thing was caused by him freaking me the fuck out, telling me my parents were right, telling me I was going crazy and yelling at me while I was high.

Then I went the only place left in driving distance. My parents' house. Yeah, I didn't have a lot of options. My younger brother, who I thought I was close with, lived in their house at the time. He hadn't taken over the garage that I used to live in yet. I parked in the driveway and left my car running. I called my mom's cell. Nothing. I called the landline. I could hear it ringing from the car. Nothing. I called at least 3 times. Mind you, this is the house that I grew up in since I was 11. My former bedroom there was still unused and had a fucking bed in it that was prepared to be used (and never was used) as a guest room. I... honked my horn. That was enough for a light to finally go on in the house. In my brother's bedroom. I don't remember if I called him or if he called me, but we were on the phone shortly after. I told him it was me. He was very clearly angry. Very obviously angry. And he said "you better not wake up mom and dad, they're going to be furious with you." ... Like I was a teenager or something. And I told him very fucking clearly, very articulately - "I am deeply scared and feel unsafe right now. I don't know what is going on and I just need a place that feels safe for the night that is not my house. If what I am afraid of is real? I need a safe place to stay. If I'm just freaking out? I need a safe place to stay. Please let me and my dog stay here tonight." He refused to let me into my family's home. He refused to hear anything more I had to say. He told me I was crazy, I was freaking out, I'm scaring people and I need to go home. And he fucking hung up on me and turned his lights off.

All he had to do was unlock the door and go back to sleep, and I'd leave a note saying "I stayed the night in my old room because I was alone and detoxing off of meds and deeply scared, and I just needed a place that felt safe for the night. I will leave without disturbing any of you in the morning. Signed, your son." But no. He hung up on me. And told me to go fucking home and go to sleep.

I left. I drove. It was like probably 3AM at this point. I connected with the nurse person, she helped me calm down a little bit. She was blown away at how my brother treated me, and she wished me good luck in finding a place to crash. I surprisingly got another call back that I took. It was from the guy I lived with and was trying to join a band with back in the day. I remember vividly as I was driving back on the road that led to my house... the phone cut out and I lost service, and I saw a fucking shooting star moving super slow across the sky in front of and above my car, going north. It was huge. Another surreal moment, it felt like... you know in books the illustrations at the beginning of chapters? I felt like the possum was one, and the shooting star was the other. And it started to snap me out of it a bit. I remember thinking of how cool it would be to find a meteorite, or to make jewelry out of one, or just to polish one as a precious object.

I got service back when I got back by my house. It was kind of a... crossroads. The kid on the phone said I could go and talk to his dad. His dad lived 15-20 minutes up the road. I had never met him before. Despite how me and this kid had a big falling out years later, that was a really thoughtful thing to do. To call his dad who I found out later he did not get along with... to wake him up... to say "my friend is freaking out and just needs someone to talk to and help him calm down and feel safe". That should really be a more normal thing to do... Weird that the kid himself didn't offer that considering we were supposed to be friends and he was already on the phone with me... but, I'm sure he had his reasons. So... I said "fuck it". And I drove to his dad's house.

I got there, I pulled in the driveway. It was awkward as fuck. I had my dog with me. I introduced myself. We sat on his porch and I told him a super condensed version of where I was at. I'm having weird ear popping shit and surreal feelings. My dog having ear problems, my "friend's" dog was having what looked like similar but worse problems. I didn't want my dog to end up like that. I had a theory it was infrasound, and that it might be coming from the windmill. I took a recording, here's the data. He looked at my phone like it was in Japanese for like 5 seconds and faked interest, then handed it back to me. He said the results were nonsense, that it doesn't mean anything. ... I... don't really know how he came to that conclusion... but yeah. Probably just acting confident to make the situation end quicker. And he just echoed the same shit the others said to me, just... in a less aggressive tone and with slightly more of an appearance of compassion. That I was being paranoid and this isn't a problem with the windmill, it's all in my head, I just need to go get some sleep.

After the way I had been treated so far that night, that was the kindest anyone had been to me. To tell me that this physical evidence of at very least a contributing factor (maybe the infrasound wasn't even coming from the windmill, maybe it was another source, who knows?) was "nonsense", and without any other credible connection... I guess GG? And I just resigned. I had no explanation, somehow less evidence than I started, and no theory at all about what was going on with my dog. He proposed "allergies", because... he had allergies and there was a lot of pollen that year. And I guess it was good enough for me. We said our goodbyes and I got my tired and confused pup back into the car and we headed home as dawn broke. I remember very clearly the color of the sky and fog rolling over the fields as I drove back home. Daylight definitely eased the fear.

Yeah. That was... that was a very defining moment in my life. A very small moment that came from just... normal everyday interactions... and then my trauma was set off... and I tried to be responsible and smart and use science and logic to provide security, to assuage the panic, to seek answers rather than jump to conclusions. I still feel like this was absolutely the correct way of handing that situation, over 4 years later. Then... in response to my trauma being set off... my healthy methods of addressing those trauma responses were met with... trauma. I was yelled at, threatened, gaslit. That fucked me up in ways that... I really struggle to put into words. It was like... that summer? It was like fucking They Live or something. I keep using the term "Twilight Zone" because it's the franchise like this I'm most familiar with that is the most similar. That summer was legit like one gigantic Twilight Zone marathon. Where I just woke up and every person in my life was suddenly just saying shit to me that made my jaw hit the floor in disbelief. "I just told you I'm having a panic attack... and I just need a place to crash where I feel safe... and you're telling me... to get over it and go home?" Like... Those moments, and that many in quick succession... it fucking rattled me in ways I am just now recovering from. It went right past anxiety and panic responses. I was straight up in shock. I wasn't angry. I wasn't scared. I wasn't nervous. I was completely and utterly in disbelief. I struggled to process how it was really happening, whether it was actually reality. I was looking at the equivalent of some 3000 ft tall octopus god that materialized out of the fog and my mind just... couldn't process what was happening. It was just... still. In disbelief. Shock. I really don't know how to articulate that feeling clearly. It really did feel like... "Lovecraftian", like the kind of horror that your brain and body just can't really process at all. It just short-circuits your brain and you just kinda... almost go catatonic for a bit there. Then you need a forklift to get your fucking jaw off the floor.

So yeah, not long after that I was seeking sanctuary of any kind. I didn't give a fuck about the windmill after that. I discovered the real threat. The real danger. It was under my nose the whole time. It was the reaction to my fear. It was how others around me would react to my anxiety and my trauma responses. My anxiety was never the problem, me not expressing my anxiety outwardly my entire life - instead internalizing and suffering great mental distress, fucking up my entire life and permanently physically damaging my body - that was never the problem. It was a symptom. It was a symptom of an environment where it was not safe to express fear. Where expressing your anxieties without zealous conviction of them being absolute truths, rather being inquisitive and seeking support to form educated, informed decisions... was viewed as... delusion? Somehow? Or... a threat? I legit do not understand it at all. But I have verified this in spades over the years since.

So... yeah. On one hand... I would do anything to go back in time and just never connect the dots between that dude's dog's ears and my dog's ears... and connect that to my feeling of surreality in that house... and connect that to infrasound. But, on the other hand... that cinematic journey... was probably one of the most important catastrophes of my life. Because it illuminated exactly how unhealthy not just my family was, but the other people around me as well. How damaging that environment was for someone who had been clinically diagnosed with PTSD for several years at that time, who was tapering off of medications alone, who no one would check in on despite living less than 5 minutes away from him, who no one believed in, who no one supported. It is very lonely out here, starting from scratch and being in a new city. But holy fuck, I feel so... so much more free. I feel safer being my authentic self.

Which really makes me dread... having to give that up. And I really do fear that giving up my art as my primary time/labor sink... will turn into me losing myself. To someone else's will, I guess. Or, like... I lose my agency in my life. Or like all of this was for nothing. Just because I was too scared to go out and meet the right people, or too scared to apply to galleries, or too scared to reach out to my old teachers or something. I don't feel like it's too late for that. I don't feel like it's time to give up yet.

I have come so far and sacrificed... nearly everything... to get where I am today. And there are really two things outside of material possessions that honestly... they're all a coin flip, I don't really care too much, very few are essentials... two things that I have left. My idea of who I am and what I want to do with my life. They're not that different, either.

But I'm not here to talk about my career, because that's a bit much for tonight, I've already stopped myself like 4 times before that fun campfire horror story.

There's a reflex that kicks on whenever I think about related jobs, or something to just pay the bills. It feels like giving up. It feels like turning into the people who treated me like shit, like I'm doing what they did. They all fucking gave up. Or never even tried. Taking the easier route and learning to love it. Yeah, I could be an artist... or I could just go be an artist's assistant or a teacher. And then do that for 10 years... and then go... "remember when I used to make art?" "Yeah, I still do it in my spare time, but man... I'm just so busy nowadays, who has the time?" Kinda like the way I treat video games nowadays, there just aren't enough hours in the day.

I could mentor or tutor. I could teach private lessons - art, music, art history, you name it. I could host events for intuitive and improvised drawing, teaching the meditative techniques that I've learned, the kinda occult shit you won't learn at the community college. Come by the studio, smoke a bowl if you want, maybe break out some wine, or meditate or do some breathwork first, get yourself in The Zone however you like to, and we're going to do some fun art experiments. I could read tarot. I could do art pieces on peoples' clothing, like tattoos. I could sell jewelry. I could sell carved staves, walking sticks, even carved and decorated wooden wind-chimes was one I really want to do. I can sell mini Zen Gardens, and cool little accessories for them, like hand-polished stones, or hand-made mini rakes. I could also finish my abstract series and submit it to a gallery, or submit my bird illustrations to a gallery as a series as well. I can paint peoples' grip tape. I can do all of these at the same time. All I need is to find people who are actually interested in paying for these things. And with that big of a menu, it's really hard for me to believe that I won't be able to pay rent. Like... if I charge $50 for a 3-card tarot reading (which is cheap)... I'd need like... 60 readings per month make a profit. That's an average of 2 per day, every day. I'm never going to get that many, I get that. But... with other forms of income added in? If I offer more comprehensive spreads for higher prices? If someone there wants to buy crystals or minerals from my display case, or a necklace or talisman or something? It could make up the difference. But I really think if I can find a way to do private one-on-one art/music lessons, group activities with a ticket fee, and tarot readings... I could stabilize on that. I think I could. All I really need is... to get connected socially. Because streaming and social media are very unkind to people who don't have built in social networks.

So... that's the next step. So today, I was in social "fuck it" mode. I reconnected with someone I know who, in my life, is the closest person I've ever met to a female Adam Savage. If we synergize, this could be life-changing. I'm planning on going to the nude model drawing session at the local art collective this week, and I'm planning to email the person who runs it to see if I could just meet up and talk about the local art scene, maybe before the session? Or after? Or another day? Just to make a one-on-one impression and get to know them.

So yeah. A lot is turning around and I'm very grateful for it. And I really want to say this before I go. Thank god for skateboarding. I had a lot of mental health tools in my pocket, skills on deck, ready to go. I just... didn't have a place to go to socialize with people similar to me that didn't cost fucking money. And... the skatepark is exactly that. It accepts all kinds. Skateboarding is the true American spirit - give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. We all just want to feel some wheels under our feet and push ourselves to take a leap of faith. And to feel the rewards of taking those leaps of faith, that rush of accomplishing something you previously didn't think you were capable of doing, that you battled over. That's what skating is all about. Now that I've gotten over my insecurity about being "bad"... mostly... I actually feel like... a local skater. People recognize me. I'm a regular. There's a place that people can expect to see me. And that's how things start. Skating helped me break through and get there. And it would've been much fucking easier if one motherfucking person would've gone with as support and just sat on the sidelines and watched. But hey, all's well that ends well.

It's late. I gotta turn in. If you stuck through to the end here? Thank you for reading this story. It's... not the happiest of tales. But let's consider it a cautionary tale. You never know what someone else is going through. My brain just kinda... ground to a halt here. Like I was going for some mic-drop ending and just kinda... sputtered out. Just... you never know when you might need a shoulder to cry on, or when you just suddenly feel like a scared 6 year old who had a horrific nightmare and just need someone to talk to about it, or someone to just silently pat you on the back for a few minutes, to help you feel a sense of comfort and safety in a world that can feel so infinite and empty and cold and mindless. You never know when you might need that. So... don't be afraid to offer it if you can, because you might be that person for someone else. That's what community is about, that's what friendship is about, that's what relationships are about. Give and take, mutually support each other. Compassion. That. That's really the most loving and kindest thing we could all do.

Good night!

[erodasfishtacos]

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on. 

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon. 

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!” 

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

**

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

**

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

**

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

**

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.  

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous. 

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

**

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub! 

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

**

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself. 

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him. 

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

**

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed. 

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen. 

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N. 

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl. 

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

**

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body. 

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

                                  -- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her. 

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips. 

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

[god1ngs]

  ◞ $ DANCE WITH THE DEAD

summary ៹ exploring an abandoned castle leads you down a rabbit hole

pairing ៹  royal vampires dream, georgenotfound, sapnap × gn!reader

includes ៹  small mention of blood. bad ending. cocky vampires. george is an asshole

word count ៹  3.1K WORDS. wow. that's a lot haha :] sorry this took so long! been having a hard time writing but i hope this is enough to make up for it! also tell me what you think of this layout? i don't know whether it looks good or not haha :] anyways, enjoy! <3

The chilly atmosphere had been one of perfection for a night like this: staring ahead at the looming castle, sat atop a hill. Rather cliche, but the towering castle had been one that looked as if it was in a horror movie. A shiver crawled up your spine just looking at it, horrors creeping into your thoughts. The castle itself was grand, tall towers looming over the woods it looked over.

The castle was owned by the WasTaken family when kings and queens were still around, the family having been one of many unique qualities. The king and queen never had their names shared, instead kept their identities as much a secret as they could. Their son, however, flaunted his position of power.

Dream WasTaken was not as mysterious as his parents, instead chose a more lavish lifestyle. He preferred to show off his wealth and power— his family did not like this, yet he did not seem to have their opinion in mind.

Neighboring kingdoms included the NotFound family and the Nap family. Both were of high status, easily being richer than the kingdoms surrounding them, except for the WasTaken family. Although the two families could not beat him in wealth, the princes were surprisingly extraordinary friends.

Princes Dream, George, and Sapnap were all great friends— they got along swellingly and were attached to the hip. They were often at one another's palaces; ancient texts say they used to run around the corridors and play around with each other.

Frighteningly, the three had all disappeared within a span of months. On a July morning, when Queen WasTaken went to raise Dream for the early morning breakfast, his bed sheets were empty. A month later, George had also seemingly vanished when he was sought in the late afternoon. Another month later, the neighboring kingdom had announced that Sapnap had taken off sometime in the middle of the night.

Where they all went or what happened to them was unsolved, even for as many years as it has been. The WasTaken castle now resides on a large hill, overlooking the suffocating woods that lay below. The NotFound and Nap kingdoms are not far; it would take less than a day to travel to them.

However, you now stood outside of the WasTaken kingdom, in hopes of finding out information on the family. The documents about the WasTaken family had been very few, as well as difficult to find due to how few copies there were.

You were interested in learning more about the WasTaken family, as well as the NotFound and Nap families. You planned on going to the two other boys' kingdoms soon, but the WasTaken kingdom was first. They were known for being the wealthiest royalty for miles and miles.

You travelled up the crumbling stone staircase, mold and grass growing through the cracks of the ageing stone. Weeds and overgrown grass lined the pathway, having gone years without being cut. You clutched your notebook closer to your side as you approached the main castle.

The castle was obviously ageing; the stone crumbling and wearing down after years of standing. Thick vines grew over the castle door, large and intimidating. You gulped as you pushed past the door, the creaking noise making you wince.

Mice scattered as you walked in, causing you to suck in a breath. There were chips at the quartz pillars that once stood brilliantly; some had toppled over due to the weight of the building, laying eskew on the floor. The condition of the castle was no surprise to you, having seen pictures of the once magnificent building crumbling under the weight of old age.

Portraits had lined the walls of the corridor you stalked down, your shoes echoing off the stone walls. The sound of a ‘thud’ had caused you to whip around, seeing nothing there except scattering mice. Sighing of relief, you turned back around, eyeing the remnants of history hanging on the walls.

From the information you had gathered beforehand had given you insight on where to go, heading over to the Queen’s bedroom. It was as grand as you’d expect it to be; a large bed sitting in the middle, fit for a Queen of her time. The large window had allowed some light in the depressing room, highlighting the various items.

You took notes of whatever you saw, wanting to make sure this experience was memorable. Walking around more, notebook and pen in hand, you noticed how large everything was. The WasTaken family were obviously very rich, evident by how the castle looked. You could only imagine what it looked like in its original state.

You made your way to the King’s room, mouth open at the way everything looked. The spectacular order everything was in made you grin, excited to witness how everything else in the castle would look like. You hoped it wouldn’t collapse on you, glancing down at the condition of the stone.

Another ‘thud’ had caused you to whip around, yet there was nothing there, again. Your brows furrowed, shivers crawling up your spine. Despite how wonderful the castle was, it also had an eerily creepy feeling you couldn’t seem to shake. It was as if you were being watched, someone's gaze seemingly trained on you the entire time.

Shaking off the feeling was in vain, yet you continued searching throughout the castle. The details, work, and effort put into it all surprised you— you wondered how long it took to build the entire thing. Making your way up more stairs, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around how large the building was.

The WasTaken castle was truly a sight to behold.

You came across Dream’s room, hesitantly waltzing in. Green had dominated most of the room; you could almost laugh, imagining how much the prince must’ve liked the shade. You took a look around the space, entranced with how neat everything was— save for how beat down everything appeared.

The last room you wanted to see was the ballroom. You’ve read documents about how grand the ballroom was; the captivating room was the largest in the whole castle. You longed to see how big it was, your own excited footsteps reaching your ears as you walked down there.

Vines hung on the walls, encasing the old paintings with the thick green. It was a surprise that the castle had stood this long, although it may give out any minute. You were careful of your own steps, not wanting to be the cause of the broken castle.

Large wooden doors had been your gateway to the ballroom, eyes widening as you stepped in. Great windows lined the walls, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. How they didn’t fall was a mystery to you, but you paid no mind as you stepped inside.

Giddiness had enveloped you as you walked along the marble floor, your grin wide as you laughed. The ballroom was as magnificent as the documents claimed it to be, as captivating as the stories told. Imagining yourself in one of the ball gowns from the medieval days, you were quick to hum to yourself and spin.

You imagined yourself dancing with someone, as if you were at a masquerade party. You imagined yourself spinning into a gentlemans chest, his hand clasping your wrist and his arm wrapped around your waist. You sighed, leaning into his chest.

A rough chuckle reached your ears.

Frantically, you spun around to face a man. Faded green irises reached yours, dirty blond hair sweeping over his neck. You gaped at him, unable to squeeze the words from your throat. He only smiled at you, what appeared to be fangs glistening in the sunlight.

“You looked to be having fun in my father’s castle. I had to join you.” He told you, watching how your brows furrowed quizzically. You locked gazes with the blond, being so close to him that you could count the freckles dusting his pale cheeks.

“Your father? What do you...? The family that lived here was the royal family, centuries ago.” You said breathily, only hearing the seemingly young man chuckle again. His icy hands left your frame, falling to his side. You couldn’t say that you didn’t miss the cold hands on your skin, the lingering coldness making you shiver.

He knelt before you, green eyes still locked on to yours. He took your hand in his, gently kissing the top of it. You flushed, feeling the heat rise to your face. The blond man only stared at you, a smile gracing his face.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dream, my father owns this castle."

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open yet no words coming out. You couldn't get anything out, even if you so desperately wanted to— you were shocked, eyes tracing over the frame in front of you. Was it really Dream? As in, the Dream that had lived royally so many years ago?

Dream couldn’t be alive. Not after so many centuries had passed, not to witness the fall of his own kingdom; there was no logical way Dream WasTaken could be alive. You jerked your hand away from his cold ones, watching the said to be Dream’s brows raise in surprise (Or maybe it was amusement, you couldn’t tell).

“You can’t be Dream. He had to have died years ago.” You scoffed, eyes squinted at the blond. His lips curled into a smirk, green irises narrowed at you. He stood up, the ruffles of the white sleeves he wore being pulled up. His eyes scanned the ballroom, humming, then went back to lock gazes with your eyes-- why does he keep doing that?

“When I was fifteen, my parents built this ballroom. They said that we would host many great events in this room, ones that would rival any other kingdoms. We did, of course, but not very often. The best use of the ballroom was when Sapnap, George,” As he spoke, you heard what sounded like another thud, then a cold brush past your face. However, you paid no mind as he continued, “and I played tag in here.”

You stared quizzically at Dream as he spoke, wondering what he was trying to prove. Another mysterious noise has you glancing around; something Dream caught on quite quickly. "Is something wrong?" He asked, brow rose in a questioning manner. You shook your head, clearing your throat and looking back at the blond.

"No, everything is... fine."

Dream nodded promptly, a silence swept over the two of you. You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, shivers creeping up your spine as you glanced around. As you stood there, face to face with Dream's chest, you felt a presence behind you. Your breath hitched, trying to ignore the looming feeling.

However, ignoring whatever it was proved to be difficult when it escalated from being a mere presence. An abnormally warm finger ran up your jawline, leaving a trail of warm skin. The finger left for a brief moment, only to reappear on your collarbone, tracing it gently. Your eyes fixated on the floor, Dream's concerned words falling on deaf ears.

It wasn't long before a breath swept past your ear, making you tense. Whoever, whatever it was had a way of making goosebumps appear on your skin. The phantom finger had become more when it had become solid, as if there was another person behind you.

You didn’t believe there was, until another hand had settled on your waist and the other grasped your hand. A gasp left your mouth as you spun around, terrified to see another man holding you. A grin adorned his face, sunlight glistening off his sharp fangs.

Raven hair framed his face, some of it kept in a messy bun at the back of his head. A tattered, white bandana was wrapped around it’s forehead, miscolored. Bright orange eyes gazed back at you, holding a mischief that made the air leave your lungs.

“Did I scare ya, sweetheart?” The man purred, leaning closer to your face. You flushed, pushing him away and dusting your clothes off. You heard the blond behind you chuckle, glancing at you before looking at the dark haired man.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t scare them too much, Sapnap, you’ll scare them away.” They both laughed and you couldn’t help how small you felt at that moment. Before you could dwell on that any longer, your brows furrowed as you stared at the raven haired man. “Wait.. you’re Sapnap?” You asked, watching as the grin on the man's face grew wider.

He leaned down, much like Dream had, taking the hand he was still holding and kissing the top of it. A pleasurable burning sensation lingered as he pulled off. “The one and only,” Sapnap responded. You cleared your throat, obviously flustered at his actions.

“But if you’re Sapnap.. And you’re Dream.. Then is—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence as another man seemingly appeared out of thin air. He floated beside Dream, leaning back with his legs kicked up as if he was sitting in a chair. White framed glasses with black lenses sat atop his neat dark brown hair, blue and brown eyes gazing at you. You jumped at the sight of him, hearing Sapnap’s snickers from behind you.

The brunette merely stared at you for a moment, brow raising in what you could only assume was in a questioning manner. “I’m George, if that’s who you were looking for.” He spoke, the thick British accent suiting him in an odd way. You were speechless, eyes wide as your gaze never left him.

George scoffed, yet the words he said afterwards fell upon deaf ears. Only then, as you stod gawking at them, did you notice how pale their skin was. It was as if they were sick; ghostly pale skin that made your stomach queasy the more you thought about it.

“Wait,” You cut through their chattering, brows furrowed. They silenced at your word, Dream’s brow arched as they awaited your next words. “If you guys really are the Dream, George, and Sapnap from, hell, centuries ago— Are you guys... dead?”

A few moments of silence passed over the four of you, awkward and uncomfortable. Goosebumps settled themselves on your skin and your stomach twisted into a knot, fearful that you may have said something wrong.

You jumped as Sapnap howled with laughter behind you, whirling around to face him. He cackled at your question, humiliation creeping up your spine. “Dead? You think we died and we’re, like, ghosts right now?” He only burst into more laughter at the thought, wiping away a fake tear in his eye.

“Oh, come on, Sapnap,” Dream scoffed from behind you. “Don’t laugh at the poor thing— Of course they’d think we’re dead! We look like a million years old!” The blond’s words eased the burning feeling of humiliation in your gut, even if it was by only a little bit.

George rolled his eyes, “Maybe you do.” Before the two could begin yelling at each other, Sapnap clasped a hand on your shoulder and spun you around to face him. He had stopped laughing now, face flushed, as he grinned at you. You still wondered what was up with those fangs of his.

“To answer that question of yours, darlin’, we’re not dead. We just haven’t died. We’re what you’d call... vampires, I guess.”

Disbelief struck your core, eyes wide as you stared up at Sapnap. You couldn’t say anything for a few moments, even when George had made a comment of ‘Oh look, you’ve broken them Sapnap. Good going, idiot.’ and Sapnap had begun yelling at him.

“You’ve got to be pulling my leg,” You mutter, shaking your head. Your legs felt shaky, as if you’d fall at the slightest shove. Thankfully, Dream noticed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You flinched, although accepted the balance gratefully.

“You don’t have to believe us,” Dream murmured, loud enough for only you and him to hear. Your head was spinning with thoughts, questions upon questions making your head buzz— How could you believe someone claiming to be a vampire?

Vampires aren’t real; they’re only fiction, made up for the entertainment of others. Blood sucking creatures such as them don’t exist. You’re sure of it... but then why are you so inclined to believe them? It’d make sense, at least from your little knowledge about vampires: The sickly pale skin, the sharp fangs that glistened, even how they’ve claimed to be alive the whole time.

You didn’t want to believe them. Vampires were seen as cruel, vicious creatures that sucked humans’ blood with no hesitation or regard for their well being. However, they had been relatively kind to you (save for George’s snarky comments). 

“We don’t care if you believe us, actually.” George is the one who spoke, his snarky tone making you frown. Sapnap was quick to swat at his arm, narrowing his eyes at him, “Don’t be an asshole, George. They’re clearly confused.”

Dream still held you by your waist, letting you lean against him. He didn’t mind it in the slightest; dare he say that it even felt nice to have someone so close to him after decades. You let out a shaky breath, finally pulling yourself away from the blond (Dream would neve admit how he missed your touch).

“You’re not.. lying, right? Like this isn’t some big prank?” Before George could reply to your question, Sapnap grinned at you wolfishly. “I could bite you, if you want to make sure we’re not lying.” You almost would’ve gotten embarrassed if you weren’t so curious.

You could hear Dream and George’s whispers to Sapnap, ‘Dude, why would you say that? You’re going to scare them off!’ and ‘You’re such an idiot, Sapnap.’ Yet you could care less, sucking in a breath. Your eyes met Sapnap’s:

“Bite me then. Prove to me that you’re really a vampire.”

He stammered, eyes blown wide. You could see how his face darkened, evidently embarrassed with your challenge. “I can’t— Do you even know what you’re asking me to do? What could go wrong? What could happen to you?” He listed all of the possibilities: your death, you being turned into a vampire, something else.

“I don’t care.” You answered. “I want you to prove to me that you’re really a vampire— Or else I don’t have any business being here.” Silence washed over the ballroom and Sapnap sucked in a breath.

“Are you— Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

Shaky hands grasped you closer to him, dipping down to meet where your shoulder and neck combined. He sucked in a breath, letting the scent of your skin consume him.

Sharp fangs pressed against your neck, drawing blood. You could smell the metallic liquid as it was drained from you, gasping sharply as you clutched onto Sapnap’s ripped blouse.

The world went dark not too long after.

taglist ៹  @esylwen @ttakinou @marrymybeloved @qnfdnf @dusky-purple-black (ask to be added)

[shotorozu]

BABE , i saw a hc ( i think it was urs) where the boys’s s/o was really fashionable, ( as somebody that’s gone viral on pinterest a little too many times ) I WAS WONDERING , what if you did a todobakudeku ( separately please omg) with somebody that’s like the emma chamberlain of fashion and they own everybody’s pinterest boards and stuff AHAHA IDK , the amount of times somebody has said ‘ wait ur that one pinterest girl right?? ‘ ANYWHAHEEIE I LOVE YOU N HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! 💗💗

pinterest famous s/o

character(s) : midoriya izuku, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, they/them pronouns (at the request of anon) strong quirk hinted; not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack-ish (x reader)

note(s) : thank you anon!! so ok, i still used they/them pronouns even though the reader is afab (again at the request of anon) and whdjwkd sorry for the inactivity :,) also im gonna post more later so— sorry for the delay

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

when middle school midoriya finally got a phone, he downloaded pinterest for the sole purpose of looking at screencaps of heroes

but then, he hasn’t touched it a few months, because he’s been training with all might

then, when he finally had enough free time again— he decided to go on pinterest

but instead of finding any heroes he could look at, he found the prettiest human being he has ever seen in his entire life 💀

that person was a different type of beauty, y’know— they weren’t just fashionable, but their beauty was,,

timeless? that’s how he’d describe it. yeah. that person lived in his head rent free for a while

sadly, he feels like you’re that person he sees once in his life, and never again 😔　which isn’t the case

when he finally meets you, midoriya realizes that you look VERY familiar— someone on pinterest, that he unfortunately, didn’t know the name of

but then wait! he realizes that you’re that person. that one person that blew up on pinterest, and ended up in all of the fashion boards.

okay, you’ve been recognized a few times in the past, just because you were pinterest famous— but you didn’t expect him to recognize you

“wait,, you know me?” you asked him when you saw the realization sink in

and you were honestly,, flattered when he went on a tangent on how you were on all of the pinterest boards, and how your sense of fashion was timeless

but you know what’s the best thing of it all? when izuku developed a crush on you (and not because he thought you were just an attractive face)

it was very easy to find pictures of you online! he says it’s for research but,, he tends to look at them for a long time

probably has 3-4 pages dedicated to your hero costume— since fashion icon = fashionable, yet a very practical hero costume!

does he get jealous whenever people fawn over your looks, or whenever he sees comments in pinterest comment sections just asking for your socials in such desperation?

hmm,, yes? he does occasionally feel like someone like you, should be with someone as equally beautiful as you

he thought he was always plain looking, but you wholeheartedly disagree! in fact, you fell in love with his ability to pay attention to detail.

to the random creeps in the comments section, he just contacts the uploader and asks them to delete any malicious comments and it works 100% of them time.

on the brighter side, he helps a lot with taking your pictures (if you ask him to) and sometimes! he’ll even appear in them

izuku will always be your #1 fan!

bakugou katsuki

at first, you’d be like “katsuki owning pinterest? naaah.” but! i think he would

being an all might fan, he liked looking at all might screen caps— and while katsuki would be on the discreet side, he’d find himself looking at them whenever he has extra minutes to burn

not to mention, the cooking recipes on there aren’t the worst, so he doesn’t just use pinterest to look at screen caps of heroes doing their work

and, how could he forget that you’ve been bugging him to search for rare screen caps? he says that it’s useless— but he finds himself digging for you anyway,

which is whyyy

he finds an entirely different rabbit hole, and it’s way past 10pm, 3 more minutes wouldn’t wound him.

the blond doesn’t know how he even stumbled on.. this side of pinterest. the one that kind of hurts his eyes.

the more well known side of pinterest, that is covered in pictures of fashion boards, and the standard pretty person.

the ‘aesthetic’ side, kaminari calls it— it makes bakugou cringe, and he was just about to refresh his page

when he spots something familiar, it’s you‼️ well it wasn’t just you but, you were dressed in something,, nice.

like sure! you’re attractive. but that’s not why he’s dating you, there’s a lot of reasons as to why

but, he’s baffled. seeing you in a different light, and in such nice clothing, what more, when he sees that you’re actually everywhere. he hasn’t seen this much of you and your attractive ass before

katsuki told himself that he was going to sleep a few minutes ago, but now? he’s left admiring all of your pictures.

how did he not know that his s/o’s pinterest famous? you’re practically in every single board!

he confronts you the next day in an oddly weird manner, “you didn’t tell me you were famous on that stupid pinterest app.”

you’re sheepish, “welll, i didn’t know that you were going to stumble on that side of pinterest!”

he doesn’t say anything, and really! it looks like he doesn’t care about the newest discovery of his s/o

but he shows his feelings in his own way.

like, how katsuki insists that he finds a new outfit that you’d absolutely love— one that’ll fit with your aesthetic

and that he insists that he does your graphic liner, because you’re going to ‘poke your eyes out’

makes an entirely different account to reply to those simps and creeps in the comment section, sort of like

random pinterest user : “the things i’ll do to be crushed by them 💦”

pinterestuser461903 : “go touch some fucking grass.”

also would’ve commented “your art sucks” at the poorly done drawings of you in the comments, but knows you appreciated the art— so he doesn’t

(still thinks the fanart doesn’t do you enough justice)

he’ll be super proud when someone notices you in person like “yeah that’s fucking right, but too bad they’re super attractive and way out of your league.”

in short, it looks like katsuki doesn’t care at all about your pinterest famous life, but he’s your #1 supporter

todoroki shouto

i am certain for this one— he doesn’t have pinterest

well, he didn’t have pinterest, until midoriya convinced him to create an account, but it kinda just ended at that

but the person that actually made him use pinterest was sero, because he kept bugging him to give it a try

todoroki finds the app very practical— he can find screen caps of heroes in action, and he can also find oddly helpful tips in cooking (and in anything)

but sero was like “todoroki, what about the aesthetic value??” and todoroki didn’t really get that part to be honest 💀

todoroki, being clueless didn’t know what to search for— so sero being the wonderful friend he is, helped him search for it

and that’s when it happened. it didn’t take that long, but they eventually found an entire section just full of pictures of you; their classmate and crush

“is that Y/N?” mina notices what they’re looking at, and she observes the picture “oh wow— it is her! no wonder why she looked familiar.”

“it’s impressive! our classmate is pinterest famous!” they continue to look at every single post in each board, and todoroki’s left to observe in silence

he has definitely taken a liking to you, even if he didn’t realize it at first— he liked you because of your hard work when it came to training, personality and patience, not because of your looks

obviously, todoroki thinks that you look good in anything, trashbag style or not. but seeing you in this light was interesting.

so after training, todoroki would spent a good portion of his time scavenging for more pictures— not because he was obsessed or anything

but because,, he really liked your pictures. maybe it was because without you in those pictures, it would feel incomplete

he didn’t know how to approach you after this discovery, which is why he’s glad that you approached him first

“todoroki! what are you looking at?” you took a peak at his screen, and you’re baffled to see yourself, and that very famous picture of you

he’s quiet for a second when he realizes that you’ve caught him staring at your pictures, but he explains calmly, “sero accidentally discovered your pictures,, and i just wanted to take a peak at them, if it was okay,,”

and he’s relieved— well, you’re also relieved. you didn’t know how your crush would react if he ever saw those pictures, but your heart skipped a beat knowing that he enjoyed looking at them

“it’s alright todoroki,” you smile, honestly over the moon as you spoke “i’m really glad that you like them.”

sometimes you’d get shy whenever he’d go on pinterest just to look at your pictures, “todoroki, not that one! that one was really old,,” is what you’d say whenever he’d look at your older photos but he’d still look at them anyway 💀

at first, todoroki helped you in his own subtle way. since he’s quite the fashion icon— he’d recommend you clothes to wear for future pictures

he eventually confessed— and it was because you were talking to him while he was really tired, and he blurted out that he really, really liked you and you almost passed away because of his words

so yeah— it was a case of secretly admiring their beautiful best friend to lovers scenario

he’d go the full mile when it came to taking your pictures. he’d check the weather forecast just in case if it was going to rain for that date, and impromptu picnic photoshoot

that boyfriend that has pictures of you in his photo gallery, and has a backstory for each photo if anyone were to ask

also that boyfriend that knows how to take pictures, will probably even lay down to take them, even if you didn’t kindly ask him to

when you asked him to join the picture, he didn’t really know how to— but he made it work! and the both of you guys went viral

but this isn’t all one sided, no— whenever you guys would cuddle, shouto would simply stare at you with HEARTS in his eyes,

and even before he leans in for a kiss, he’ll stare at you with so much love in his eyes, while he traces his thumb across your cheekbones. man’s in love— you’re gorgeous.

he knows that you know that he’s not with you because of any ulterior motive, you both have mutual trust in each other— so it’s not something you guys will bother on questioning because you’re both hot asf lets be real

he’s not uncomfortable whenever people gawk at you in public— i mean, you two get stares on the regular. and how could they not stare at you? you’re very attractive, and he’s glad that people recognize that

but he’ll get protective if they’ll try to be a threat to your loving relationship with him, he won’t be afraid to be blunt

regarding the comments on each pinterest post— he hates it when people say things out of the line

always tries to hide them from you so you don’t feel bothered by them, but if you knew about them— he’ll be sad :,(

but he’ll end up mass reporting those nasty comments— and they always get taken down, because of the shouto todoroki luck

in short? man’s whipped, and the both of you guys are SO attractive together— what more if people knew about the om chemistry?

really— you being pinterest famous was just a nice plus, he fell in love with you for you

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[butiknewyou]

do you have any thoughts on long story short? it's not one of my favourites, but "no more keeping score / now i just keep you warm" is just so ????AJFOIFJAIOFJAOJ!!!!! you know what i mean?

anon to be 100% honest with you I have so many thoughts about long story short that every single time I listen to it I have to pause to Think about lyrics. because I never shut up, I’m going to talk about my general thoughts on the song then under the cut I’ll talk about specific lyrics.

I think it is the most fascinating thing that Taylor will tell the same story in so many different ways. evermore’s title track, reputation, long story short — all the same girl! but obviously in very different ways: in evermore, she dwells on every single moment and even that last hint of light is just that minute when she realizes maybe she’ll be okay one day, whereas long story short is a lot bouncier and more focused on her relationship’s aftermath, not just her own. I think every single lyric in this song is incredible and some are glossed over a lot and it has a lot of my favorite technique — changing up words to reflect growth. I’m going to talk about my favorite lyrics and because I’ve spoken about this song before I’m going to link old posts of mine :)

fatefully, I tried to pick my battles till the battle picked me: this sums it all up huh? This is the best description of Taylor’s choices up to 2016 she could have written. so many times she let things slide, didn’t cause a feud, apologized when she did, etc...until that one event which to her felt like fate in the way it so completely rearranged her life.

and I fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole: I think about this lyric all the time because she’s acknowledging that as a famous and loved celebrity in 2014, she was put on a pedestal, something she could easily be knocked off of, and the rabbit hole is all those other bad consequences. it reminds me of “barefoot in the wildest winter”, how sometimes one dark thought can lead to a whole dark mindset.

pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips, long story short it was the wrong guy: I love songs that make a little fun of Tom Hiddleston (as a treat) and I LOVE the imagery of falling off a cliff and catching onto whatever you can. the fact that it’s lips is funny but it’s also accurate for where she was.

actually, I always felt I must look better in the rear view, missing me at the golden gates they once held the keys to

when I dropped my sword, I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door, and we live in peace but if someone comes at us this time I’m ready: these lines are talked about a LOT in the fandom but I really love the parallels to daylight and description of the moment when she decides the fighting and pettiness isn’t worth it: he is and she’ll do anything to protect them.

no more keeping score, now I just keep you warm, no more tug of war, now I just know there’s more: yes I LOVE this. there’s like eight songs where she’s like And Then We Stopped Playing Games. those last few words are super underrated: one of the reasons she’s okay stopping the friction and the tug of war is the confidence that this will last.

and my waves meet your shore ever and evermore : not going to lie this is one of my posts I love the most! and obsessed with the concept that love is when two people change together (“our coming of age has come and gone”)

past me verse: AKSNDJSSKJSWJSKSK!!!! AKSJDJDKSKSKSKWOWJSJSKSJSJSJSJ!!!!!!! I hope this is a helpful analysis ♥️

and you passed right by, I was in the alley surrounded on all sides -> and he’s passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky: again, this concept that she was so busy fighting she missed him the first time around, but realized it the second time around.

if the shoe fits, walk in it till your high heels break -> walk in it everywhere you go: linked post and what it all comes down to is a symbol of feminine attractiveness that is extremely uncomfortable vs a shoe that you can walk in ALL the time and if it breaks you don’t fall straight to the ground. “if the shoe fits” is also important because that 1989 lifestyle DID “fit” her at the time, it wasn’t 100% horrible and there were aspects of being that much on top that she loved.

pushed from the precipice, climbed right back up the cliff: this is so crucial because she’s acknowledging that in getting back to the top again she could fall down, that she’s still on a cliff

long story short I survived

If you made it to the end of this I love you!!!! Idk if when you asked for thoughts you wanted uh this or “I think it’s neat” but I hope anything you were looking for is here!

[feelingsuicidal21]

Thekellinunderthevic the_kellin_under_the_vic the-kellin-under-the-vic

A multi-part vent, personal story and open letter written years much too late

Dear Sarah,

I spent so many hours reading your stories. I was truly enthralled by your never-ending twists and turns, how you made my heart race, or cry from the emotional overhaul you created. Checking your blog became a part of my daily routine; not only for chapter updates but just to hear you talk about music, your own interests, or personal life.

I spent years following you until the time came where I decided to step away from social media, including tumblr. When I came back your blog was gone; like it had never even existed. I checked the other platforms but found them empty.

I spent time googling your username trying to find anything I could about where you had gone. I didn’t find you; just support groups, chat logs, and the devastating news that you had left writing fanfiction behind.

I was told you left because you began feeling uncomfortable writing stories based on real people and it had started to give you anxiety. I understood your reasons, but it didn’t make it any easier.

I spent a good deal of time thinking about how I had secretly feared that a day might come, where you would feel this way. But in the back of my head, I always thought that you were more secure in your position. After all, you were older than most fanfic writers at the time and so I naively assumed you were past the point of squeamishness and embarrassment over it; that you had made your peace with your interest in it.

You had once said that when you wrote your fics you didn’t consider them the actual individuals, that you saw them as different people. I always personally felt they took on a new life in your stories.

I admit, I was completely unprepared for the reality of your disappearance but there was nothing I could do. Although I’m certain it seems dramatic to some, I felt genuine grief. It was like losing an old friend.

After you left, I stopped reading fanfic, and truthfully I stopped reading much at all. In a way I had lost my wonder for the written word.

 All these years later I am writing this and it’s because of the simplest thing. I was scrolling and stumbled upon a fanfic based around a popular tv show I watch, and found myself instantly drawn in. I ended up reading it for hours until I became overwhelmingly discontent; because I could only think about your writing, your stories, and how I wished you were still there and that I could read them once again.

For the second time I found myself embarking down the rabbit hole, searching for your blog name, your stories, looking for any remnants of your work.

I found people who claimed you were rewriting your stories but with different names on a new account, which has since disappeared. Others claim you created another new account, completely removed from fanfic, writing original short stories.

I found people who had saved some of your work; so few in comparison to the numerous you had before. Despite knowing it would make me sad that I couldn’t read them all again especially some of my favorites, I was sucked into reading a republished version of your work. One of your original stories and I simply couldn’t stop until I finished it.

Afterwards I thought about many different things. For instance, I remembered how when I was younger, I had started saving your stories in Word because I had wanted to keep them just in case, however I thought it might be strange and decided to stop; and now I am filled with regret over something so small.

I allowed myself to ponder over whether or not you had kept your stories. I struggle to imagine how someone could delete so many years worth of effort and hard work no matter how they may have felt about it. But then, you deleted your blog seemingly without hesitation; you always were the forward, no nonsense know exactly what you wanted kind of person. So perhaps you are in fact the person who could erase it all and move on.

Part of me secretly and perhaps foolishly hopes that, even if I can never read them again, that you saved your stories somewhere. In case somewhere down the line your feelings change, and you wish you could come back to where you started to see how far you came, in case one day you regret deleting a part of yourself even if it made you feel conflicted. Maybe it’s because I never was the person who could let things go. I was never the person who could burn everything someone gave me in order to move forward or throw away old things I made in the chance I would want to turn and look back on them.

 Most of all I wondered where you are now and if you ever think about those days and how it used to be. I wonder if you stopped writing after you left fanfiction, I hope that you didn’t. Although someone once told me a writer can never truly stop writing for long. So, even if you no longer wanted to share your stories with your old readers, I hope you never lost your passion for writing.

Wherever you are and whatever you are writing now I wanted you to know that I don’t think of fanfic as a lesser form of writing, and I hope you don’t either. Whatever you feel about your past in this world of ours I want to say to you that; I don’t believe that it was about bands or smut or anything else. Our strange connection to the writing went beyond who’s namesake they were inspired by. I think the names simply made it easier to connect to the stories faster, that it created a connection to the story before we even started reading it.

I think fanfic satisfies this desire we have to feel connected; whether to bands who’s music made us feel less alone, to shared concepts between stories and writers, and the rest of the readers, knowing we can all see the same faces that we are reading together.

In some ways I think that fanfic authors offer us more in their stories than “official” authors who write printed books. Fanfic authors write stories in a way that would never lead to them being published; they write intensive interpersonal narratives that take us on a roller coaster. They write so detailed about all the minute things that get left out of “official” books and are left for the reader to wonder about; the characters, their thoughts, and life outside of the plot. (All the things that supposedly dredge down “real” books that secretly I think we all wanted to read about.)

Perhaps now, as an adult it does seem strange to have read stories naming real people, with often times extreme plots or outrageous concepts. Stories that are “cringey” that we should be embarrassed about reading or in your case writing. But I find myself unable to feel regret or embarrassment now over something that brought me so much joy; especially at a time I needed it the most.

 In a strange way it was like we almost took you for granted. Holding you and these stories dear and therefore being unable to imagine them as anything other than permanent; something that would always exist and always there to be relived. Your disappearance reminds us all of the impermanence that exists in this life.

Perhaps that’s why I now of all times I would come back to this, to feel so passionately about something so seemingly silly as to write about it as an adult. Is it just remembering and being unable to let it go again so easily, is it nostalgia for the past, or is it the way even years later life has found ways to mimic the circumstances that led me to reading fanfiction in the first place. Writing to you here in the void of the internet is a way to remind myself, others and perhaps even you that these times we shared were real.

I know that your writing was causing you anxiety, and that you likely felt strange about your involvement and maybe even still do. Fanfiction is almost like a taboo. I really hope that you found your inner peace with it; because speaking from experience I know that you can destroy everything relating to something that makes you feel embarrassed or ashamed, but it doesn’t change that part of your life.

I hope you know that you were never just a fanfiction writer to me; you were an author and one of my favorite ones. However you may feel about your past, your stories reached hundreds of thousands of readers; readers just like me who fell in love with your stories just the way they were.

You influenced an entire subculture of youth with your stories; you were my inspiration for my rekindled interest in reading at the time and my desire to try writing too. Something I always thought I couldn’t do.

Even now as I grow older and struggle to remember certain details of what was discussed on your blog, the time you changed your username and everyone panicked, to struggle to remember all of the specific titles of the fics I cherished. Despite that I can still remember the stories even if I can’t recall its name, I remember where I was and how I felt when reading them.

I still follow tkutvfics tag on tumblr, my one and only followed tag on tumblr. Maybe it’s a desperate hope, maybe it keeps the memory alive, but no matter what it’s a piece of the past we shared and is a bittersweet reminder of all the good times.

So, as I said, however you feel about your past, your stories and your existence continues to live on in all of those readers including myself. Who even now remember them, miss them and you like one misses an old friend, who were effected in whatever ways they might have been by your writing; for the better.

Wherever you are, (down under), I hope you found the mental peace you were looking for, I hope you continued to imagine stories and be creative in whichever way you choose, I hope you are happy and living your life filled with passion. Although, wherever you are I hope perhaps you haven’t and won’t forget about us, because I sincerely believe that I am not alone, that we haven’t forgotten you.

Sincerely yours,

A faithful and loving reader

[crossdreamers]

What the TV series “It’s a Sin” tells us about the tactics of anti-trans activists today

Over at Twitter Owen Jones reflects on the way the history of bigotry is repeating. The new British TV series It’s a Sin reminds him of how the tactics once used against gay and lesbian people is now used against trans and nonbinary folks.

Owen Peter Jones is a British newspaper columnist, commentator, journalist and political activist. 

It's a Sin is a British television drama serial written and created by Russell T Davies. It is about the queer community in the 1980′s London.

Owen writes:

One of the most important themes in 'It's A Sin' was about gay/bi people and shame - caused by growing up in a society that saw gay/bi people as would-be sexual predators, violators of biological reality, threats to children, immoral, deviants, and generally undesirable.

While HIV rates remain significantly higher among gay and bisexual men, treatments now allow those with HIV to live healthy lives. Alcohol and drug abuse as a response to shame and trauma caused by homophobia is today a bigger problem in Western nations.

It's important to make this point because the evidence suggests that mental distress is even more acute amongst trans people, who are today the most marginalised and oppressed part of the LGBTQ+ world.

Anti-trans activists use the same arguments as the homophobes

Today, anti-trans activists play the exact same songs about trans people: that they are would-be sexual predators, violators of biological reality, threats to children, immoral, deviants, and generally undesirable.

Some of those anti-trans activists responded viscerally to being called out for enjoying It's A Sin. They are furious at being compared to the monsters who victimised gay people, even as they obsessively target trans people in the same papers that obsessively targeted gay people.

Some of them point to their past association with pro-gay struggles, or in some cases simply that they have been to gay bars before, as though any of this gives them a lifetime freedom pass to say whatever they like about other minorities.

But as It's A Sin shows, a society which made gay people feel unwelcome - as burdens at best and as menaces at worst - inflicts terrible damage on gay people. The same is being done to trans people.

However those who, in some cases, spend a genuinely huge amount of their lives talking about trans people as would-be predators or threats to children justify it to themselves, they are inflicting the same injuries on trans people as It's A Sin underlined is done to gay people.

The quadrupling of transphobic hate crimes, the 48% of trans people who fear using public toilets, the trans people discriminated against at work, the quarter who've suffered homelessness, all of this is erased from the "conversation", such as it is.

Even the focus on contexts which don't affect 99.9% of trans people - but which are used to attack all of them - namely prisons and sports deliberately excludes questions like 'Why are there no trans Olympic medallists?' or 'How do we stop trans prisoners being assaulted?'

Inflicting the same damage

The hounders of trans people may hate It's A Sin being used to hand them a mirror. But the anti-trans faction, who operate strikingly like a cult, are not only singing the same tunes - they are inflicting the exact same damage on trans people as gay people have long suffered.

oh and I've set this so only people who follow me can reply because, although anti-trans activists have made a conscious decision to relentlessly and obsessively target me, and I can live with that, I don't want trans people to have to sift through their bile.

“Gender critical” parents who are harming their kids

Some other thoughts. 

 One of the most powerful themes towards the end of It's A Sin is Ritchie's mother being confronted by Jill for the damage she inflicted on her gay son, suggesting that the shame she instilled in him helped drive behaviour that led to his infection with HIV.

"Actually it is your fault, Mrs Tozer," says Jill. "All of this is your fault."  Jill adds: "The wards are full of men who think they deserve it."

She was right. So many of the gay and bisexual men who died often lonely deaths in hospital wards were traumatised by their parents.

Today, most gay people have gay friends who have mental trauma which often leads to alcohol and drug abuse with absolutely catastrophic consequences. Many, all too many, have had friends who've died from suicide. The culprits? Society in general but often parents in particular.

It's A Sin showcased the LGBTQ family, of other LGBTQ friends filling a vacuum left by the absence of a loving family. A big role of that 'family' is to pick up the pieces because of the damage inflicted by parents on their children.

When parents refuse to properly accept their LGBTQ children for who they are, they insert ticking time bombs in many of them. That bomb may detonate in their 20s, their 30s, their 40s, who knows, maybe in their 50s or 60s. But in many of them, it will detonate.

This is why there is a genuine horror watching self-described "gender critical" parents ranting about trans people on the internet. Because I can't help but think, oh god, what if they have trans children. What damage will be inflicted upon them.

In some cases, the bigotry of anti-trans activists - often radicalised by newspaper columnists, online rabbit holes, and somewhat perversely, Mumsnet - will collide with reality. Read this about an ex-'gender critical' activist and their trans nephew.

But in other cases, transphobic parents will stick determinedly to their guns and inflict the same damage on their trans children as homophobic parents have always inflicted on their gay children. We should be clear: homophobia and transphobia are forms of child abuse.

Hiding behind the argument of protecting their children

Both traditional homophobes and contemporary transphobes claimed they were protecting the welfare of children. As anti-gay campaigner Anita Bryant declared: "As a mother, I know that homosexuals cannot biologically reproduce children; therefore, they must recruit our children".

Today's anti-trans activists use the language of 'safeguarding' and often suggest that parents know what's best for their children. This is clearly not always the case. Lots of children need to be protected from their parents. That includes many LGBTQ children.

So when this Times journalist attacked Mermaids, a charity supporting young trans people, for including an 'exit button', suggesting it was 'a major safeguarding breach'. Many LGBTQ children don't have supportive parents and need to hide their identity away from them.

Anti-trans rhetoric echoes anti-gay arguments

Anti-gay rights campaigners long focused on the danger posed by predatory gay men to vulnerable children, and pointed to scandals in, for example, the Scouts and the Catholic Church as evidence. Today, anti-trans activists similarly extrapolate extreme cases to make their case.

In the 1980s, it was claimed an all-powerful gay lobby was putting political correctness ahead of people's well-being. The same language is used about the objectively marginalised trans minority today. The second screenshot is from this weekend's Times newspaper.

That's why so many gay people stand up for trans people. Trans people, of course, are in our shared LGBTQ spaces, and their experiences do differ in important ways - but we see them going through the exact same things we've gone through.

It is, frankly, grotesque that gay people who for very obvious reasons stand with their trans siblings are then vilified as misogynists, or have obvious homophobic tropes about wanting to endanger children's safety thrown at them.

It's also perverse that many of the same people publicly cooing over It's A Sin are the same people trying to hound the LGBTQ allies of trans people out of the media (they can't really do this to trans people because there are very few trans people in the media).

LGB people attacking trans people

As for the LGB people who participate in the hounding of trans people. There have long been examples of oppressed groups who participate in oppression, often against themselves: women against the Equal Rights Amendment and feminism, right-wing black Republicans, and so on.

These anti-trans LGB activists are not only completely unrepresentative of LGBTQ people: many queer bars and spaces bar people who express their bigoted opinions for very obvious reasons: to ensure they're safe spaces for the whole LGBTQ rainbow.

Watching straight people try and foment a civil war within the LGBTQ world by platforming these completely marginal bigoted zealots is actually completely and utterly grotesque.

Finally (!) in the 1980s, almost the whole media was anti-gay, and public opinion was overwhelmingly anti-gay. Today, almost the whole media is anti-trans, but while transphobia is rampant, anti-trans sentiment is not as widespread as anti-gay sentiment back then. There's hope!

But it takes huge courage to speak out in support of trans people in Britain in 2021. One day, there will be TV programmes about the onslaught against trans people. Those who victimised trans people today will be portrayed in them. They'll go down in history as hate figures.

Sadly, it's too late to save all too many LGBTQ people who had ticking time bombs inserted into them both by society and by their homophobic and transphobic parents. They detonated. But we can save others from that fate. So speak up.

Read the whole thread with other comments here!

Read also Michael Cashman: Loss and anger raged in me after watching It’s a Sin – the stigma we faced in the 1980s is now being directed at trans people

Photo of Owen Jones: Antonio Olmos/The Observer