poliittinenepakorrektiusnyt

[mortispoxi]

Seeing Twitter users recommending the People Make Games documentary as a good way to get insight on the issue is so….

I know, I’m always extremely disappointed whenever I come across someone who thinks it’s the end all be all explanations regarding the Studio ZA/UM situation.

Recommending that video always comes with a heavy caveat from me that the person needs to stop around the 40 minute mark since the interviewer shows a very clear bias that’s unbecoming of a journalist.

Regardless, now that more people are finding out about these layoffs, which might take out members of the studio that have been there since the beginning, it could finally help smack some sense into those Twitter users that actually thought, FOR SOME REASON, Rostov, Kurvitz, and Hindpere were lying for shits and giggles rather than seeing what's ACTUALLY going on which is that the investors have a very obvious agenda against the real wronged party. Hopefully this'll also open their eyes to how the People Make Games video fed into this twisted narrative that Kurvitz was somehow at fault/responsible for the theft of his own IP, but that might be asking too much from their concrete brains. Here's hoping though!

[ofswordsandpens]

Am I the only one who thinks about how The Lightning Thief would have gone if instead of Grover, Percy picked Luke to go with him and Annabeth on the quest? Luke, who was sick of the idea of doing quests that had already been done was just picked to go on a unique quest by this demigod who he was planning to manipulate, and the quest was unique because he helped to make it so. And while he'll likely be plotting to hide the fact that he's a lightning thief, reworking things to take heat off himself, one of his quest mates would be Annabeth, the half blood he personally saved and brought to camp, whom he would have to work like hell to hide his deeds from.

listen I'm loving the comedic potential of this because in my heart of hearts, I feel like Luke's too enamored with the idea of razing Olympus for him to doubt what he's doing, but balancing that razors edge where he's actively trying to sabotage the quest and kill Percy while not tipping off Annabeth, and also trying to plant seeds of doubt and discord both between Percy and Annabeth and also about the gods while trying not to be too obvious about it because maybe, just maybe he can convince Annabeth to side with him.

except as usual Luke's nefarious plans are constantly being foiled by 2 tweens and its embarrassing cause they're not even trying. Percy's not wearing the shoes and keeps making up polite reasons on why he can't without seeming like he's rejecting Luke's gift (cause that would be rude) and Annabeth's like "well I'm gonna wear them then" and Luke's panics like "NO" but he also can't wear them so then they just stay in the bag untouched. then Luke keeps directing them into the paths of monsters in the hopes Percy's gonna get taken out but holy hell this kid just won't die. Like literally just escapes mortal peril by the skin of his teeth and doesn't even realize it. It's like an old silent film where the entire front of the house falls off and the guy survives because he just happened to be standing right where the open window is.

Then Luke's also trying to stir up some anger at the gods, testing the waters with Annabeth, but she's so in the height in the idealization of her mom it's getting no where. Luke's trying to be subtle like "hey... don't you think it's kinda of fucked up that the gods are..... uh... blaming? percy for this? and that he has to do this quest to set things right" but annabeth's like "what do you mean by that? 🤨 this is what heroes do this is how we prove ourselves" and unfortunately Percy is the only one vibing with the "hey don't you hate your dad" comments that's Luke's throwing down and that makes him fond of Percy against his better judgement but he's still gotta kill him so you know, bummer

anyway, in this quest AU Percy perceives Luke as the Responsible Adult cause he's 19 (lmao) and thus feels a little less pressure to be responsible for things himself and so when they get to the Underworld, Luke's like smirking, grinning, cause a. he's in in the Underworld and how many heroes have achieved that? b. the shoes in Percy's bag are about to drag that kid to the depths of hell or c. the lightning bolts about to appear in the bag and Luke will throw Percy under the bus to Hades (he's been practicing his betrayal speech) except wait "Percy... where's your backpack??" and Percy's like "oh I forgot it at the hotel 👉👈" and Luke loses it and picks him up to throw him into tartarus himself (he is unsuccessful)

[ellieslittleburrow]

Resuested by @outof-spite : was wondering if you could do a winchester bros & little sister! reader where theyve been arguing constantly lately, and reader is usually combative and always argues back but, this time shes just over the arguing so she just gives up trying to argue with them and kinda goes mute?

Warnings : family fights, yelling

Pairings : Sam/Dean Winchester x sister!reader

A/N : Sorry for the late postt ❤️❤️

-----

Things happen, right? Misunderstandings, judgement, reproaches and blame, all of them, the worst thing that could happen to a family, more importantly-right now-to yours.

Back from a hunt gone bad, you heavily lay in the backseat of the impala, your feet hung over the left window while your head rests over the opposite side of the car.

"Hey-get your feet off my damn leather." A complaint you've heard one too many times, and one you usually fight but- this time, as a sigh leaves your lips, you uncross your legs and bring them down, consequently lifting your upper body to sit up. An avertion from your side that's different from your usual habits, causing the car to fall into heavily loud silence.

And although it is loud with almost audible thoughts and anger, you still enjoy that while it lasts.

And it fucking doesn't last, in fact, just as soon as you entered the motel, another sentence commenced by Sam sent Dean into a fury, and just as things heated up, you found yourself in the middle of it all-again-

"Hey!!-" The shout is directed at you, this you know and choose to disguard. You would answer but- your body is fatigued and so is our mind, answering seems to lead to no vail. You answer, he fights you, you all go to sleep and wake up forcebly normalizing things, as if your throats aren't sore and your brains aren't fried.

"Hey-i'm talking to you-"

The words sound more bitter this time around, and you find yourself reluctantly lifting your gaze up . You look at Dean, slow and undetermined, exhausted.

"I asked you why you did that-You could've waited for us. I know you said there was no time le-" Dean pauses. "And fucking answer me when i talk to you-"

You shrug, causing a choking gasp out of Dean. His eyes widen and he leans forward. "Are you-Is she provok-are you-"

You throw your jacket over the bed, disdain discerned in your every move and you flop on the bed, unaware of the sudden tension that-again- suddenly settles in.

But the thing is--You don't care anymore. You haven't enough energy to get you to fight them once more, neither to explain or defend yourself. Too damn fucking tired is what you are at the moment-Too damn tired of it all.

"Kid?"

You rest your hand over your forehead, closing your eyes in an effort to soothe your aching muscles, and maybe suck in a little more patience.

"Kid."

Your stomach tightens and soon, you'll recess into a bawling mess, so you get off the bed and pick up your jacket.

Please don't lead to another fight, please..You just want it all to be ov-

"What's wrong?"

You shrug once more, shaking your head to motion that all is fine before heading for the door. But Sam comes your way, blocking the door and you blow a long sigh.

"Come here"

Sam grips both of your arms and swiftly-you find yourself glued to his chest. But all happens all too fast-why would he suddenly get all feely- and before you even realize it, you find yourself pushing against him.

"'im sorry-i'm sorry."

A lump builds up in your throat and as flashes of the past few weeks occupy every single space in your brain, your breathing increases-just as it gets harder to breathe. Just the thought of it all_

Your eyes are slowly flooded with warmth, announcing the tears gathering at your eyes. You need to leave. You need to go.

You choke on a sob.

You can't do this anym- "I know, honey. I've been there. I know." And with that, another sob loudly escapes your throat and a whimper follows.

"i've been there with Dad, i didn't realize we were doing that to you-i'm sorry. I see you. I really am sorry."

You shake your head as your cries fill the room, getting increasingly louder the harder Sam rubs your back. But that's not what you need. Not for them to see you-but for them to fucking stop.

"We'll stop. We'll talk. I promise."

You pull away from him, skeptical of a promise you doubt he can hold. And just as you're about to process that, Dean speaks.

"I'm sorry too." His honest tone makes you sigh. This isn't.what.i.want.

"Sam and i are sort've used to it- we lost sight of the fact that it wasn't affecting just us, but you as well. I really am sorry." Sam looks into your eyes and you slightly lean back, averting your gaze.

"It must've been really stresstful for you the past few weeks." Taken aback by his words, you pull your chin away from his hand and turn around, wiping at your tears before resting your hand against your forehead.

"we're sorry, kid."

You shrug, still mistrusftul. Mistrustful but hopeful. Because Sam and Dean are different, fights and bad things might accure but no matter how disconnected from each other they might be, they always come back to each other. And you are no different. You know them well enough.

Your silence is apprehended as anger. "Okay..We understand, we'll leave."

But it's not anger and it's most certainly not hatred. So you envelop Sam again and bury your face in his chest.

Maybe that'll be enough for him to understand?

His surprise manifests through his still figure. "Thank you, honey." That surprise quickly dissipates and he hugs you back. "It..."

"it's going to be okay, honey. We'll make it okay."

------

I hope it isn't too cringe or too cliché because like-who would say sorry in under a minute. But yeah anyway much love sorry byyiii 🍁🍁🍁❤️❤️❤️

[uhmimlost]

Simeon has always been one of the most interesting characters in Obey me moreso because he doesn't seem like what he shows on the surface. (Spoilers ahead)

He was originally demoted to an Archangel after being a Seraph alongside Lucifer.

(This whole conversation between them was just sooo good, the mutual agony and the need to comfort each other)

He always talks openly about things he disagrees with even if he knows it opposes his higher ups, he (seemingly) did it after the war and he did so when Raphael announced Lucifer's judgement at Cocytus. All of this despite him genuinely being scared of God (it honestly seems like that is about the only thing that scares this man).

It's very melancholic how Simeon talks about the bonds the brothers have and how he is close to them but never had a chance at being 'a part of them' per say. He yearns for that kind of closeness and love and bonding and it's almost heartbreaking to think someone who often masks his emotions and how he feels had to deal with losing people so close to him so publicly.

And the fact that he didn't want it to happen again, (in this case Lucifer and MC) so he 'borrowed' the ring of light from Michael because he knew he would not be able to get it if he asked directly, all because he strongly believed that's the right thing to do. He does what he feels is right, no matter what and always speaks his truth.

He knew there would be consequences to him doing what he did, but he did it regardless and owned up to the consequences and blamed no one for it.

Here's some of my other favourite things about his character;

1. His relationship with Lucifer

His dynamic with 'Lucy' is genuinely so heartwarming. They seem to know each other too well and feel very comfortable around each other. They know how the other thinks and always seek each other out for advice or chats. It's always fun to see how cheeky Lucifer gets with Simeon and the other way round, both of whom don't show this side of themselves easily. The way Lucifer tries to act all indifferent but was probably the most concerned alongside Solomon when Simeon lost his powers.

2. Nobody can tell what he's thinking; he masks his emotions really well

Diavolo himself talks about how he thinks Simeon is hard to read and in fact difficult to talk to. It's an interesting dynamic in itself because Simeon's the kind of person who has no enemies but there is some level of discomfort distinctly visible amongst the two.

He also has wrath as his attribute, an emotion he does not openly show as often. It's actually quite funny because while he's running his cafe we see time and time again his anger is something everyone is terrified of.

Even in the latest chapter he's struggling but when asked is like nah I'm good. He's very playful in his demeanor, and although immensely kind and patient, he still lacks certain 'angelic' qualities considering he has also been selfish and deceptive.

3. Simeon is a source of comfort to everyone

He's a source of comfort to both Luke and MC and has time and time again been the source of advice and a confidant to MC.

He also made Solomon feel like he has a place to call home and people who care for him (filling some part of one of the issues at the core of Solomon) He goes out of his way to look after this whole grown ass adult.

As Lucifer put it, his ability to get the brothers to calm down with his kindness and quick thinking is something very unique to him.

Lucifer also talks about Simeon really being the only 'normal' one and someone he can talk to in the celestial realm.

----------

All in all I feel like there's a lot more I could talk about him, but feel free to add more to this. Man needs all the love he can get right now with all that's happening to him. :)

[brittle-doughie]

The two sides of Compassion

When compassion for other cookies grows, so does the Idea on protecting others from harm and judging if a cookie deserves redemption or punishment for their actions, with this growth does Compassion becomes THE LIGHT OF JUSTICE, meanwhile if ever the holder of compassion starts to lose its passionate side of Compassion and starts to loathe the actions of cookie kind and soon spawning hatred to those who cling onto them with obsession. Does compassion turns to THE DARKNESS OF SCORN

The Light of Justice

You treated your cookies with the benefit of the doubt until proven guilty, never casting any sort of judgement or blame until your cookie has proven themselves.

No monster was getting past you, you’re always at the frontline protecting the cookies you cared about. No harm will befall them when you’re around them and anyone willing to gains your anger.

Your love for your cookies is immense, treating each and every one of them like they were special. Not one cookies was the same to you, they all had their own flaws and quirks that stand out to you!

You deeply cherish the time with them, your memories of your cookies never fading even when they’ve long since left Earthbread. Your compassion and love extended to cookies of the past, present, and future…

The Vitrue of Scorn

Attachment, love, compassion…were what you no longer could feel in the empty pit you called a heart. Immortality was never a gift to you, you had to watch cookies you’ve grown attached to over the years…just leave you as they crumble before you…

You reject any sort of love any cookie would give you, responding with aggressive or even outrage. You HATED being reminded of the old times, the way these cookies’ love shined just as brightly as the ones before you. The other Beasts were the closest you had with any form of attachment, they were all you had for many years and it was going to stay that way for many more..

You stomped out any sort of obsessive love a cookie may have for you, cruelly reminding them that you’ll outlive them greatly, so save that love for a cookie just like them. You refused to give your heart to ANY cookie, out of fear it will once again shattered when it’s their turn to leave this world, you did not want to go through that pain again…

Hell hath no fury like a cookie scorned. Your heart was broken one too many times, believing that your time with your cookies would be forever. Nothing ever is and it pained you greatly when they had to say goodbye for good. You don’t bother forming any bond whatsoever, the thought of it just made you angry instead…

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 28

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 25, part 26, part 27

It is a lot easier for Wayne to find Steve than he thought it would be. He had the vision of tires screeching out of the parking lot. Speeding down the road to his house or somewhere worse. But here Steve is, sitting on the curb outside the hospital doors. An unlit cigarette in his hands. Looking like he’s debating the world.

Wayne’s not sure why he followed him. He has every right to yell. Every right to question what that was. Why he came at Eddie with so much anger? Lashing out as decisions that had already been set in stone. Already dealt with.

After all this talk of telling Dustin that he can’t change what Eddie did, how he got hurt, Wayne thought that Steve was over it. That whatever happened between them was in the past. And all of them were ready to move forward and try to forget the pain.

But as he looks at Steve, the way his shoulders hunch and his arm wraps around his knees, the pain isn’t forgotten. Just hidden under the surface of someone trying to keep everything together. To be the strong one while the world falls apart. The bandage that keeps the dam from breaking.

Wayns sighs. Sitting down next to Steve and extending that olive branch. Telling Steve that he didn’t come here to scold him, or break whatever trust they’ve formed in these past few weeks. But here to be a person who will listen without judgement. The same way that Steve has for him.

“You know you’re supposed to light those.”

Steve stares at his hand, giving the cigarette a gentle flick. “I haven’t smoked in years. Don’t even know why I have it to begin with.”

“Because it’s familiar, doesn’t matter how long you’ve gone without them. Or how long you smoked them to begin with.”

There’s a long break of silence. Wayne waiting for Steve to open up. Explain himself. Or maybe just get ready to put the mask back on whenever Dustin finds them. Either way, Wayne will be here next to him. Attempting to understand whatever is going on in his head. Be the sturdy post that Steve needs in this moment. Giving him the permission to crack.

Steve eventually hands Wayne the cigarette, giving up on trying to smoke it. Wayne takes it, feeling the weight he’s so familiar with rest in his hand. Finding his lighter and holding it up to the end. Not letting it go to waste.

After a shorter silence, Steve takes a deep breath. “Barb Holland, Billy Hargrove, Jim Hopper, Max Mayfield, and Eddie Munson. Those are all the people that either died or got hurt while I could do nothing to stop it.”

Wayne can’t find the right words to respond to that. He doesn’t have to, Steve still has more to say.

“I didn’t really know some of them well. And some of them, I didn’t really care about that much. But I knew people that did, and I see what they all left behind. And each of them could have been me. It could have been me that died or got hurt. But somehow, no matter how many times I’ve almost died, no matter what I’ve done, the universe keeps picking me to save.”

“And it makes you feel guilty.” It’s an obvious statement, Wayne knows that. But he can’t seem to find the words to say. Trying to find something comforting without minimizing how Steve feels. Knowing that whatever he says isn’t going to stick.

Steve’s nod is full of guilt. Like he’s the reason all of this happened. That everyone got hurt because of him. And maybe they did, Wayne doesn’t know the full story. But what he does know is that Steve is still a victim in this. The scars are only a proof of that. Whatever’s going on with his head is proof of that. The way he’s feeling right now is proof of that.

“I’m still in the dark about most of what’s happened in this town, apparently. I only know what you’ve told me, and I know that was only a partial story. But I can’t imagine that these people blame you at all. I know Eddie doesn’t. I can guess that Jim doesn’t. And Max. It seems like the only one who blames you, is you.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Steve tries to correct.

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. That doesn’t matter right now. Right now, all that matters is that you think that your life is worth less than theirs. I can tell you right now that isn’t the case.”

Steve’s huff is full of self-deprecation. Refusing to believe that what Wayne is saying is true. It breaks Wayne a little bit. Finally seeing the cracks beneath the hard exterior Steve presents himself in. He's what, a year younger than Eddie? Barely an adult and holding himself to an unreachable standard. Pining for perfection that isn’t wanted.

“You don’t know me that well,” he says. Like that makes some kind of point. “I don’t think you can make that call.”

He has a point. Wayne doesn’t know Steve that well. But he knows enough. He knows that this kid will do anything and everything for the people he loves. Fight the unfightable just to protect them. Shelter them with everything he has. Even if it breaks him in the process.

He drives Dustin to and from the hospital day after day, no matter how he’s feeling. He sat with Max while she was still here, and with the kids while they were dealing with everything. He sat out in the waiting room while Wayne wouldn’t let him in Eddie’s room, just to show that he was there. That he wasn’t leaving them behind. Not again, or never at all. Wayne’s not sure.

What he is sure of, is that these people care about him more than Steve realizes. He sees it in the way Dustin trusts him. In the way all the kids trust him. Even in the way Eddie lights up every time he enters the damn room. In the way Eddie’s voice broke when calling out to Steve to stay.

Wayne can see how much Steve is loved while knowing so little about him. It crushes him that Steve can’t see that for himself.

“I don’t need to know you to know that your life is worth something.”

Steve shakes his head like he still can’t believe what Wayne’s saying.

“How old were you when this all started,” Wayne asks, trying a new approach.

“Seventeen,” Steve answers in a whisper.

Wayne has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cursing. Trying to keep this conversation in the place it is, instead of his own shock. “You were just a kid yourself, how could you have made the right decisions?”

“I still could have made better ones. I was a dick back then. Kinda still am.” He says this like it’s an excuse. It's not.

“I’ve heard the stories, so I’m not going to fight you on that. But who you were doesn’t decide who you have to be. Or what punishment you think you deserve. Yeah, you might regret the actions you’ve made, I do the same thing. But it’s that regret that shows you that you are a good person. Bad people don’t regret their decisions. The fact that you do tells me a lot about you.”

Steve shakes his head gently. Almost forcing the words to bounce off whatever wall he’s built up. The disbelief in it’s mortar refusing to break. But Wayne can see how he hasn’t said a word out loud to dispute it. He’s still listening.

“I can tell you right now that those kids don’t believe a word of what you’ve said right here. They still want you here. And that girl, Robin, that you hang out with all the time. She does too.”

Wayne’s just trying to make the point stick. Not quite sure where the words are coming from, or how effective they are. But something about them seems right, so they continue.

“Eddie wants you here. Hell, I do too. You mean more to these people than you know. Your life is worth something to them. Don’t let it mean nothing to you.”

The tension in Steve’s shoulders starts to break. Loosening from the ball he’s curled himself into. For the first time, Steve turns his head and looks Wayne in the eye. A wealth of sadness and hurt hiding behind his eyes. Something that can’t be built in a few years, but a lifetime.

Whatever this feeling is, it runs deeper that what he’s saying.

“You really mean that?”

“I do,” Wayne says with a nod. Nothing but truth in his words.

There’s nothing but silence after that. Steve going back to staring at the concrete. But looking less troubled than before. Something knew ruminating in his mind.

He eventually stands, wiping off the palms of his hands on his thigh. Wayne takes a second before following, feeling the regret of sitting on nothing but a curb for this long.

“I’m going to go-.” Steve motions to the hospital doors. “You know, apologize.”

“You sure? You’ve been through a lot today. I don’t think he would mind if you waited a day.”

That’s a lie, he would mind. Probably would spend the night thinking about it. But right now, Wayne can lie. He can lie to give someone who’s gone through so much grief some peace of mind. Even if it’s just for a moment.

Steve shakes his head. “No. I think it might make us both feel better if I do.”

Wayne watches him walk back into the hospital doors. Leaning against the wall and pulling a new cigarette from his pocket. Stands out there as the wind starts to chill and afternoon turns to evening.

Eddie wouldn’t mind one day without him saying goodbye. Not since he’s in there talking it out with Steve. Probably on to something else at this point. With that glint in his eye that tells Wayne there’s about to be a whole new problem.

tag list (capping at 100, only 2 spots left): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[lakesbian]

you know what. im going to follow my heart so we can move on with the wormread and just copy-paste what i said about danny in chapter 6.9 on discord with some minimal editing because it's not pretty but the general thesis is there and i don't feel like making it into proper paragraph form

okay so the thing thats fucking killing me abotu 6.9 is that danny is literally like. he tries to call taylor a nickname only her mom called her once he realizes he's fucked up bad and is trying to recover whichi s insane [because it's obviously going to be upsetting to her by reminding her of her mom being gone, and it also indicates that his fall-back for something going wrong w/ taylor is to try to appeal to her by poorly copying someone else's parenting style] and he also randomly tells her about how her mom wanted to move her a grade ahead but he wanted her to stay in school with emma to make her happy. and he's been Stewing On That despite knowing it's objectively not his fault (and i am reminded of how in his interlude he spends time Stewing about how he wishes annette were there to give advice) and he also cops up to the fact that that the whole thing about "being her parent and not her ally" (<- demented thing to say for obvious reasons) wherein he locks her in a room and demands emotional vulnerability from her even as she's becoming visibly upset & compares his actions to emma's was her grandmother's idea and then. here's the real kicker. once lisa shows up and prepares to take taylor away there are any number of actions a parent confident that they're doing the right thing for their child would normally do in response--not, like, Good actions, but things that a parent would be likely to pull. threatening to call the cops bc blah blah you're my daughter, wanting to speak to lisa's parents, any form of power move pulled over these two teenage girls but instead he speaks to lisa like she's an equal authority over taylor and seriously asks if she's "okay with this" (i should remind you of the concussion chapter where lisa is doing some insane power move shit over taylors dad covertly establishing herself as more competent at caring 4 her than him lmao) which is just like. it's so glaringly wildly obvious how this guy has Zero confidence in himself as a parent so he generally does nothing and then while he's doing nothing he oscillates btwn rationalizing it to himself as allowing her privacy/dignity, getting angry at himself/calling himself a coward, or getting mad at TAYLOR and blaming HER for not being the one to take initiation to be vulnerable with him and, like. he literally does make functional decisions prior to this for a bit! he's good and supportive at the meeting with the school board about the bullying!!! but it doesn't immediately solve literal years of distance between them that have led to taylor having to take decisionmaking for her wellbeing entirely into her own hands w/o being able to tell him about it [& having literally no route for human connection or support other than the undersiders] so he just completely crumbles on his own calls and seeks out/takes completely shit advice from taylor's grandma instead so i very much think what's insinuated here is like. especially given that he knows he has anger issues and never wants to Be Scary with them. he might have frequently leaned on annette for parenting decisions before she died and/or is really fucking haunted by the time(s) he didn't listen to her and it went wrong and now that she's gone he's just kinda floundering and trying to toss the baton for parental decisionmaking onto anyone else, including, at one point, the literal teenage girl who shows up to help taylor run away from his house. insane ! also. thinking about how taylor says her grandma (maternal) never liked her dad. that man would literally rather talk to the mother of his dead wife, who hates him, and take her advice than go 'yeah ithink im gonna keep using my own judgement for compassion towards my daughter' fucking worst anyones ever done it this guy has the spine of a twizzler it's great

...and then doing All That & severely triggering taylor's trauma from the bullying in the process completely shatters any trust he had built with her, catalyzing her realization that she wants to be able to have meaningful relationships with the undersiders & leading to her running away to leave with them! i don't think anyone can say for sure whether or not danny Not doing this would have led to taylor turning the undersiders in before realizing that she would regret it, but oh fucking boy does he make SURE she doesn't go thru with it. and it would be bad to call the cops on a bunch of systematically neglected traumatized teenagers regardless of how much crime they're doing so you know what maybe we should actually thank danny for his Shit Parenting stopping taylor from being a narc

[maesonc-artistic-adventures]

Comic practice featuring the following scene from the absolutely wonderful fic “Nothing Heals the Heart Like Hypothermia” by @lyrabythelake

•

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Warriors said calmly, as if speaking to an unreasonable child. Unfortunately for him, it only increased Time’s frustration, lighting a spark of anger, warm in his chest in comparison to the frigid air.

“What do you mean then?” Time turned in the deepening snow. Warriors stopped dead in his tracks and stared back. He had wrapped his scarf around his mouth and nose and his hair was caked with the kind of snow that sticks and clings to all the creases in your clothes, and the tips of his ears were turning slightly purple. “I know you get desensitised to the value of individual lives in the army, but this is Twilight we’re talking about.”

A flicker of hurt washed over Warriors’ visible features and Time’s anger immediately retreated. It was a low blow; he knew more than anyone how Warriors felt every single one of his troops’ deaths like that of a close friend’s. Blamed himself for more than a few of them.

He sighed regretfully, glancing to the empty land around them that showed no sign of their friend, before looking back at Warriors. “Go back, there will be no judgement from me.”

Sometimes, he could still see a lot of his old big brother in Warriors, different now because they had both changed since. Sometimes—embarrassingly—he wanted to curl up beside him and tell him all his fears, just like he used to in those flimsy military-grade tents way back when, as if he weren’t a fully-grown man with a house and a wife and adult-y responsibilities.

Other times, it was like looking at a stranger, someone from another life that didn’t belong in this one. He used to know how to speak to him, their conversation was effortless, and yet now, he hadn’t even a clue whether he would storm off in rage or silently forgive him for using his past against him.

There was a moment where they both stood in stiff expectation before Warriors raised his chin slightly and overtook him.

“No man left behind,” was all he muttered, and Time nodded gently before hurrying to keep up with him. “

•

I cannot recommend this fic enough! It’s so good (but then so is all of lyra’s writing)!

[hadesoftheladies]

Victim Blaming

Hoping I can keep this brief, but I have a habit of being thorough to a fault, lmao. Anyway, yesterday I had an unpleasant conversation with a radblr user who's online presence I have largely enjoyed at least, up until this point. She was frustrated with one of my posts, one where i joked about certain experiences i had with choice feminists.

She is referencing this post of mine in particular as an example of my victim blaming: (15) nearly all women who date men do so as a form of ritualized masochism: the lifeblood of female gendered socialization – @hadesoftheladies on Tumblr

I was, of course, upset at this, but I got curious as to whether or not the words I used in this post could qualify as victim blaming. I had this disquiet in me, which I usually have when a concept in my head is ambiguous and I'm struggling to define it. I want to draw a line somewhere because clarity is my one true love. So I did a little research on the general term.

First off, victim blaming is a term used in sexual assault/violence cases. That subject is the soil from which this notion of victim blaming grew into what we know it as today. FUNDAMENTALLY, victim blaming is when a victim of sexual violence is held responsible (either partially or entirely) for what happened to them. (Please keep that in mind.)

According to this article, victim blaming stems from several places:

-a desire to distance oneself from the possibility of being victimized

-a lack of empathy

-fundamental attribution error (FOA) which is the refusal to analyze external factors in favour of putting all the responsibility of the abuse on the victim

Also important to note, is that the end result of victim blaming usually results in the victim feeling ashamed or guilty for what happened to them.

Moving on, in the post this user provided as an example of me victim blaming, there's a note somewhere down there where another user called "eldopism" mentions a Lundy Bancroft quote about how victims need far more support than judgement, and how I shouldn't be making myself out to be a victim for something a man did to someone else.

maslows-pyramid-scheme also informed me that there were certain radblr users that had discussed this trend of me victim blaming straight women, so I think this serious accusation warrants a very fair and thorough response and I will use the above information on victim blaming to criticize this specific post i made about women who date men.

#1. Have I Blamed Straight Women for The Evil Men Have Done To Them?

In the above excerpt, I am drawing up a profile of a woman who is informed and not currently in a domestic hostage situation. The examples I provide are all of women I know who are unmarried and dating. One example I use is of a woman who was almost raped.

I talk about these women as active agents or "adults." They are capable of making decisions, perceiving threats, and are aware of the situations they've been in. I explicitly state that I feel anger at them, which DOES NOT MEAN I am ONLY angry at them. It is only that this anger at them is the focus of the post.

Now at a glance, anyone would say, "Yeah, this is victim blaming. You are clearly angry at a woman for almost getting raped." And I think in this case, I am partly to blame for not providing more context to that specific story.

At the point of writing this very emotional rant, the woman who was almost raped had resumed (to an even more extreme degree) endangering herself in the exact same way. When she told me what had happened, I was angry at him and horrified, but when I heard she'd gone on to be even more reckless, putting herself at more risk, that was when my anger extended to her. Both before and after the encounter, I and other mutual women in this circle, had discouraged her from fraternizing with him. This man was not attractive, neither did we find him particularly charming. They were not long-term friends and did not have any prior connections. He was a stranger that had no stake in her life. She had told us that leading up to that moment, she had not communicated what she'd wanted. Honestly, even now, I'm not too sure what was going through her head during all this and the sequence of events aren't adding up in my mind.

What I DO know is that he attempted to penetrate her without her consent and she froze as a fear response. Knowing that she found this potentially traumatizing, I wondered why on earth she then continuously went on to put herself in escalating vulnerable positions with other strangers in the exact same way.

So, victim blaming is when I would blame this woman for being nearly raped, but though I miscommunicated, that wasn't why I was angry. I was angry at this woman for disregarding this traumatizing experience. Consistently, even in the other stories, my anger is about women's decisions to re-expose themselves to predators POST victimization. Not about the victimization itself. I am not asking "what did you do to provoke him" but "why are you doing this again after what he did?"

I hope you can see the difference in both questions.

#2. Why Does She Do That?

The central theme of this post is the latter question: why the fuck are you going back? And please note, these are explicitly NOT domestic violence cases. These aren't women who live with these men or who's economic livelihoods depend on these men. These are important distinctions.

Of course, being well acquainted with theory, I know that none of our decisions are made in a vacuum. In many of my posts and also in this particular post, I acknowledge these external factors, which is why I called this cycle of "ritualized masochism" part of gendered socialization. I am explicitly acknowledging that this is a systemic issue that affects an individual's psychology, hence, interpersonal relationships. Literally in the first sentence. So I have not committed an FOA.

In this post, I also highlight the difference between me and women who make this issue out to be solely a matter of the moral failing or lack of resilience from these kinds of women. An inevitability that is better to just wash one's hands of. I DO NOT think flippantly abandoning these women to their self-destructive behaviour or acting smug about it is the right response.

#3. People That Love People Will Grieve

This post is PRIMARILY an expression of personal grief. When our loved ones are suffering or are hurt or are lost, we will, of course, feel personally affected. It is HEALTHY and IMPERATIVE that people who are supporting women or anyone, really, through difficult times or chaotic phases feel their feelings and air out their frustrations. Care-taking on any scale can and will get tiring because we are FINITE. We do not have unlimited energy to offer eternal support. That's the reality.

This anger and pain we feel is not coming from a lack of empathy but from the overwhelming presence of it. I feel for you so strongly, that every time you hurt yourself, I also feel it. When he hurts you, I am angry because I feel that hurt. When you hurt yourself, I fam angry because I feel that hurt. Because there is a part of me that is suffering as well, I get angry at the cause of that pain.

Apathy could never.

I wanted to provide an outlet to myself and other women who felt like me who had or were going through this grieving process and had frustrations as a result of having empathy while partaking in a seemingly never-ending cycle of torment.

#4. The Rescuer Isn't Coming

Which brings me to this next point.

Now I've made several responses in this thread already, but I really wanted to highlight that maslow's original criticism is that I was conflating an innate desire for a romantic relationship with men with femininity, and I was calling both ritualized masochism (which they are).

But this response really cements the absurdity of this situation for me; that is, the absurdity of choice feminism.

What really gets me about this particular response is how perfectly it poses the very same question that the post she cited says is impossible to answer: what can I do to make her life safer?

The post she cited is one that is lamenting the utter helplessness of being this support that never really improves anything because, at the end of the day, grown women will do whatever the fuck they want.

How can I make her safer when she rejects safety? How can the onus possibly be on me when I have zero power in this situation? I cannot criticize her decisions, I cannot herd all the men and shoot them into Jupiter, I can't stop her from going to club and picking these men up, I can't force her to date or believe me when I tell her that such a man is not good.

So what the fuck else is there to do but warn her? And knowing that my warnings are clearly falling on deaf ears, what the fuck else is there to do but watch or leave?

Do you not see the double bind. I am "protecting her" the only way I can: advising her to stay away.

Ultimately, it seems, maslow is upset that my solution to this whole problem is to tell straight women to forego this pursuit of a loving relationship with a man. She sees it as fundamentally self-centered, divorced from the interests and complexities of heterosexual dating and the rich inner lives of straight women.

As far as I'm concerned, there is no alternative. Radfems, of all people, know there is not. We know men do not rape because they lack education in consent. We know they rape because they want to. We know men do not abuse women because of any romanticized narrative of a tortured, guilty soul, but because it makes them feel good about themselves. Because they want to. We know men re-enforce patriarchy and misogyny, not because they "don't know" women are people but because it benefits them in some way. So WE KNOW that on a micro and macro scale, there is little we can do to appeal to men's humanity (or whatever's left rotting in its place).

So if men won't suddenly transform their hearts and rescue women, and if feminists and separatists can't get rid of men or force women to do anything, then who is left to protect these vulnerable women?

No one but their fucking selves. That's the truth. That's the point. Women are not to blame for what men do to us, but it is our responsibility to look out for ourselves because NO ONE ELSE WILL DO IT. No man is going to rescue us and no woman is going to resist the effects of socialization for us. Resistance and rebellion have to start from within and all I can do is inspire it however I can and seek freedom for myself.

The vision of separatism in feminism is one of women empowered to protect themselves, an acknowledgement of the fact that women only gain rights when we demand them ourselves. No man is going to change because we ask him to. At least, if he did, he'd be the rare exception. Which, you know, good for him. I can't be angry at a man for being genuinely good. It's always a win.

But separatism is a political strategy. "Let women try find a good man" is not. If most men are predatory toward women, then saying "find a good man among them" is shit advice. If it were a strategy, it would be a really shitty one because it CANNOT SCALE. Your political strategy should prioritize the majority of women who WILL NOT be able to find a good man that doesn't take advantage of them, otherwise, it's just elitism. Your personal hope in finding a good man is not a viable political/feminist strategy.

And if it isn't, then why are you demanding feminists take it as such?

#5. Love, Like Beauty, Is Pain

The comparison of femininity and dating men as ritualistic masochism was coming from the culture of women that romanticizes pain in love and beauty, insisting that these things are innate and inescapable, making them out to be virtues. It is glorified masochism and romanticized self-harm. The way we hurt our feet with heels, seek increasingly extreme ways to "correct" our natural physical characteristics and the way we put up with men. "Putting up with men" has been something we've been groomed to do by both our mothers, peers and men at nearly every stage.

This has become so familiar to us, that breaking free from this cycle is scarier than the anticipation of pain. This is also frequently a pointed source of my frustration in this post and other posts similar to it. This is why both femininity and sexual relationships with men are part of the same question and demand proper attention.

I am far from the first feminist to point this out, so I don't know why I'm being made out to be some sort of abuse-enabler for pointing basic feminist analysis like this out. It is this grooming that enables abuse, not advocating against it.

#6. Summary

-I committed no FOA.

-I have contextualized the suffering of these women and analyzed external factors.

-I have empathized explicitly with their pain.

Conclusion: Anti-separatist users continue to decontextualize my quotes in several other areas where context has been adequately provided (and I take responsibility for where it hasn't). The denotation of some of the things I said in this post can be accurately read as victim-blaming, but that is not my intention as one could tell from reading the rest of it. I have not called women who date or marry men anti-feminist, but I have called that decision anti-feminist/non-radical. You can be a feminist and have non-feminist interests or pursuits. That doesn't mean you're entitled to validation from feminists because we are women. Feminism is a political party, not women's club. And choice feminists keep insisting it’s the latter.

Furthermore, I don't mind people questioning my integrity, but I do sincerely ask that they bring receipts. :)

[abiiors]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 — 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚡

✧ — 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✮ a/n: this one was quite hard to write because it took everything in me not to describe max getting murdered instead 🥲

✮ cw: crying, general sadness, verbal fights, slut shaming

✮ wc: 2.5k

jules feels like a zombie. 

for two days all she does is sleep and work. she barely eats, only showers once. she cries quite a bit though. it feels like everything sets her off…

every time she closes her eyes, jules remembers the way matty had looked at her before she ran away. she thinks of matty hitting max and matty cradling her face to make sure she's okay. she thinks of their last kiss and all the ones before. 

fuck. 

for two days she barely exists as a real person, barely checks her phone or answers to people’s texts and phone calls. she should have known better than to get herself tangled up in feelings again. she should have known better than to trust herself with ‘no strings attached’. because there are always strings. 

and now she can’t break them without hurting herself more. 

on the third day she wakes up to carly shaking her awake.  

it’s startling at first, she thinks someone’s broken into the flat. then she thinks it’s matty… ultimately when jules opens her eyes to carly’s concerned face, she can’t help the tears that gather in her eyes. 

“hi,” she whispers, swallowing through the lump in her throat. “sorry, did i forget we were going to do something?”

carly says nothing for a minute, just looks at her with scrutiny. 

“move over,” she motions for jules to shift, and jules obeys. 

carly gets in bed next to her, gets under the covers and pulls her into a hug. only then does she allow herself to cry again—big, loud sobs that send fat tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“i’ve made a mess,” she wails. “i’ve made a mess and i made him sad.”

“nico?” carly asks, “what—”

“no,” jules interrupts her. she’s done with this fake charade, she’s done lying to her friend and lying to herself. “not nico. there was never a nico.” she sniffles like a child, wiping her nose on the duvet. “i mean, yes there was but—”

“jules, you’re making no sense…” carly looks at her with a blank face. her lips are pursed into a thin line and her eyes are a little wary, but jules can see the concern written there plain as day. she doesn’t blame carly thought, she knows she’s talking like someone who’s gone mad. 

“it’s…matty,” she mumbles, “it’s always been matty.”

“adam’s matty?” carly’s eyebrows fly so high up in her hairline that jules almost giggles. more so when she registers what carly’s just said.

through tears she laughs. “adam’s matty. yes.” 

“what about him?”

“well…” she wrings her hands, suddenly nervous and scared that carly would be mad at her for lying this entire time. “it’s a bit of a long story.”

“let’s hear it then,” carly nods her head, and jules starts at the beginning.

“and this has been going on for…”

“more than a month, yeah…” she’s already in tears again, ashamed to look carly in the eyes and find contempt or judgement. 

“why didn’t you tell me?” carly mumbles. “why did you lie the whole time?”

“i—” jules chokes, crying more tears. “i was scared you’d think i was using him. i was scared you won’t like—”

“jules!” she interrupts, incredulous, “what am i, your mum?! none of my business who you fuck, i just… i wish you would have told me…”

“i know,” jules plays with a loose thread on the duvet. “i’m so sorry, i lied to you, i am.” 

she looks up, finally looking carly in the eyes. there’s a little bit of annoyance in her face, some anger too as is to be accepted. but more than that carly looks at her with concern. still, after jules is done confessing her lie, her friend looks at her with concern. 

under the duvet they’re sitting side by side, their arms touching. jules leans over and rests her head on carly’s lap like a child. a second passes, and then she feels fingers threading through her hair. 

“and now…”

“i want…” she looks down in shame, “…more.”

“and why is that a problem?”

because i don’t think he wants me? because i don’t know if it’s a good idea? because there’s a chance he might have feelings for someone else? because because because. 

she smiles at carly sadly. “it doesn’t matter. i think whatever we had is over now.”

“jules,” carly holds her face between her warm hands, making jules look at her. “i’ll say to you what i said to you ages ago, back when you first wanted go on casual dates. you don’t have to any of it if you don’t want to. but if you’re going to, i want you to be happy with it.” she pauses, taking a deep breath. “it looks like you’re not happy… ending it.”

and that really is the truth, isn’t it. she’d rather have some half-baked version of him than have none of him at all. but her heart is fragile. she can’t invest years in matty like she did in max. she can’t have that end the exact same way—in heartbreak and tears. 

“don’t assume what he wants,” carly nudges her gently. “ask him what he wants.”

“mmm,” jules wipes at her cheeks again. she’s sure her entire face is red now—red and splotchy. 

“now go on,” carly nudges her, “let’s go for a walk or something. i’ve got the whole day free and i’m bored!”

jules laughs. it’s a watery chuckle and more tears fall down her cheeks, but she feels better than she has in days. weeks, rather. she feels lighter and freer. 

“should we get ice cream?” she asks, and carly nods with all the enthusiasm in the world.

there’s another thing she has to do before she can fully bring herself to talk to matty. not that he has reached out to her… she supposes it’s fair this way. she’s the one who fucked up, she should be the one to apologise. 

and so a week and a half later she sets out. not to matty’s place, not just yet. she goes to the house she hasn’t seen in close to eight months. 

jules turns onto the familiar street and knocks on max’s door. 

it used to be her door once, she remembers. she wonders if the house still looks the same—if the sofa and the loveseat are where she left them. she wonders what’s replaced the trinkets on the shelves that she took with her. she wonders if the bedroom is as clean as she used to keep it and if the fridge is as organised. she wonders and wonders and realises… she does not care. 

jules no longer cares if the house inside looks like a mausoleum or if the bedroom looks like a garbage dump. 

she no longer cares if max lives comfortably or not. 

jules waits, ringing the doorbell again and shielding herself from the sun that’s high up in the sky. after ringing it for the third time, she hears footsteps—heavy dragging footsteps and then the door is yanked open. and just like that there’s max, hungover and looking like shit in last night’s clothes. 

he smells of stale alcohol and cheap weed. jules wonders how she ever loved this man, how she ever looked at him and found him attractive. 

“juliette…” he sounds surprised. she swallow the sour taste it creates in her mouth. it’s her name and yet when he says it, it sounds like the ugliest word in the world. 

“move,” she says, no willing to touch him to shove him aside. “i want to talk.”

max snorts and steps aside, motioning her in. 

jules takes in the house while he shuts the door behind her. there’s a thin layer of dust on the now empty shelves that look like they have not been used in quite some time. there are cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling and crumpled up empty beer cans by the sofa. 

the ashtray looks like it hasn’t been emptied in over a week. 

the house has certainly seen better days. 

“sit,” he motions towards the sofa. one look and jules wrinkles her nose in disgust—who knows what kind of things he gets up to here now that he’s single. 

“no, i don’t plan on staying long,” she declares, moving away to put a little more distance between them. no matter how far she moves though, she can still smell the stink coming from him. 

“right,” max smirks, “what you here for then? healy didn’t satisfy you last night, did he?”

jules closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. she’s not here to fight, she’s not here to fight, she’s not here to fight!

“max, i need you to stop.” 

“stop what?”

“i need you to stop sending flowers and coming back into my life. i need you to stop giving a shit about who i’m fucking, i need you to stop—”

“oh so you can be a whore and spread your legs to whoever you want and i can’t say shit about it?”

jules grinds down her molars, bristling at the interruption. this is fucking impossible, he is fucking impossible. 

“max, listen to me,” jules begins, her voice steady despite the anger bubbling up inside her. “i didn’t come here to argue. i came here to make things clear.”

max scoffs, leaning against the wall with a dismissive glare. “so we’re setting boundaries now are we? so you can run around town fucking that boy and ruin my reput—”

“max!” jules raises her voice, trying not to go slap him in his own home. “i’m not interested in discussing my sex life with you. i want you to understand that whatever i do, whoever i do it with is none of your fucking business.”

he snorts again, shaking his head. “and you think it’s okay for your boy toy to hit me like that? he’s fucking lucky you were there.” 

“lucky?” jules scoffs, incredulous. “max, you were out of line, and you know it. you can’t just show up and act like you still have some kind of claim over me. matty stood up for me because you were being a complete jerk.”

max’s smirk falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, crossing his arms over his chest. “you think he’s some kind of hero? he’s just using you, juliette. just like—”

“just like you did?” she interrupts, her voice sharp and cold. “don’t project your failures onto him. matty’s nothing like you, max. he will never be like you. ever.”

max opens his mouth to say something but she’s not done talking just yet. she’s not done talking and she’s not going to leave here until he promises never to bother her again. 

“i’m being so fucking serious right now,” her voice sounds firm and jules wonders if matty would be proud of her if he were here. she’s certainly proud of herself. “i need you to stay the fuck away from me. no more flowers, no more messages, no more trying to intervene in my life. i do not care what your little cronies think of your reputation anymore.”

max whistles low, looking her up and down. “you’ve grown a backbone.”

“yeah,” she shrugs, smirking at him, “i’ve also learned what it’s like to fuck a real man.”

max’s face flushes with anger, but jules just looks at him with pity. she’s done letting him make her feel small, done letting him control the narrative of her life. she’s just… done.

“don’t ever come near me or mine again.” she warns him one last time. 

max sneers, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—defeat, maybe, or regret. jules doesn’t care to figure it out. she’s said what she needed to say.

turning on her heel, she heads for the door, not giving max a chance to respond. she’s done with his toxicity, done with being the good little girlfriend who gives away all of herself and forgets to be a person of her own. 

jules steps outside, the sunlight warm on her face, and takes a deep breath, feeling lighter than she has in months.

back at her flat, jules takes a long, hot shower, scrubbing away the remnants of whatever might have clung to her in that house. it feels like there’s a disgusting oily sheen to her skin, like max and his gaze still linger, making her feel small all over again. 

she wraps herself in a towel and sits on the edge of her bed, her phone in hand. her heart pounds as she scrolls through her contacts and finds matty’s number. she’s scared, but carly’s words echo in her mind.

ask him what he wants.

with trembling fingers, she types out a message:

jules: hi, can we talk?

she stares at the screen, her thumb hovering over the send button, but jules doesn’t send it. instead she repeatedly presses backspace. 

she remembers carly’s words, but she also remembers her own. 

matty’s nothing like you, max. he will never be like you. ever.

and she was right then, wasn’t she? she thinks back to all the time she’s spent with matty. matty, who’s put her first every single time and been a friend to her even when he didn’t have to. she remembers matty cradling her face and asking her if she was okay. she remembers making him sad. 

she’d made him sad. 

jules feels a fist squeeze around her heart. if she’s going to make it right, she’s going to make it right in person. and she’s going to do it right now. 

she dresses as quickly as she can, reciting her speech in her head and trying to calm her nerves. she’s going to go and wear her heart of her sleeve, she can’t let a panic attack get in the middle of that. 

his house is only a short bus ride away but her heart is in her throat the entire time. jules doesn’t know what she will say to him once she actually sees him. she doesn’t know if he’d be willing to hear her out or if he’d just turn her away. 

what if he just wants a clean end to… them?

turning onto matty’s street is so much more nerve wracking than max’s. for one, it takes her an eternity to ring the bell. 

maybe she should just run away again and come back some other day. maybe she should have stuck to her original plan of messaging him first. 

still, jules knows this is the right thing to do. matty deserves a real apology, and she’s not going to deprive him of one. 

jules stands outside matty's house, her heart pounding as she rehearses her speech one last time in her head. she takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, hoping he will answer.

to her surprise, it’s cleo who opens the door.

“jules?” she sounds surprised. “hi! come in, what’s up?”

jules nods at cleo. “i’m here for matty,” she tries to keep her voice even. “i need to talk to him.”

[blobpsycho]

This gif perfectly encapsulates what I love about Tome. All girls have been this gif. Like remember having undiagnosed mental issues and your family makes you go on an outing that should be fun but you’re just pissed off constantly because youre a 14 year old girl? Tome gets it.

Like YOU’RE GOING SOMEWHERE TO DO SOMETHING THAT SPECIFICALLY PERTAINS TO YOUR INTERESTS. But youre a 14 year old girl and nobody will ever take you seriously and you’ve just got this pit of hopelessness in your stomach despite the fact that nothing is technically wrong

so even though youre on an outing planned for you you can’t shake the feeling that everyone is just making fun of you for being so upset over seemingly nothing. These are your friends and family, you deep down they wouldnt do that, but why else would they go out of their way?

They certainly wouldn’t do it for you, right? I mean nothing’s even technically wrong. You’re just being a crybaby and they all must think youre just being a dramatic teenage girl. And you are and you know that you are so why can’t you just get over it and be normal?

And when you finally can’t take the pain that’s screaming in your chest because everything feels wrong wrong and everything is going wrong and everything is wrong wrong wrong you can’t help but cry. And you’re embarrassed and you’re furious and you’re supposed to be mature and you’re supposed to not care but you cry.

Crying feels worse than the growing internal discomfort did because now everyone is looking at you. They’re staring in uncomfortable suprise at what you’re sure is the most unsuprising sight in the world - a 14 year old girl crying. You want to go home but you can’t. You’re 14. You can’t do anything on your own.

You react to the terrifying ordeal of being reacted to the only way you know how - with anger. You monologue through hot tears and sobs and snot how you didn’t even wanna be here and how you just *know* everyone is just doing this to make fun of you and how they should just go on ahead and leave you wherever you are (you know this can’t happen. They wouldn’t leave a 14 year old girl somewhere unfamiliar on her own) and something in you hopes that they’ll yell back, that they’ll treat you like you’re irrational and make you feel justified in your anger.

…But that doesn’t happen. The silence persists but you realize that it’s more contemplative than judgemental. They’re not afraid of you, though you think they should be. Rather than letting them say something sentimental about caring and being concerned or any sappy bullshit that will only serve to make you cry more, you wipe your face on your sleeve continue on your journey.

The day gets better. After everyone gathers that no, you don’t wanna talk about it, it almost feels like nothing happened to begin with- besides the slight exhaustion you feel every time you blink and the intense stress sweat you choose to blame on anything else.

By the time you get home, the day is mentally logged as a good day. You decide - albeit tentatively - that maybe you’re going to be ok. Maybe you won’t be a 14 year old girl forever.

You go to bed and have the best sleep you’ve had in months.

[loveyourlovelysoul]

What may have happened during our childhood that made us develop a trauma?

We may have felt the need to keep an eye on our caregivers' beahviour, to judge them and their mood so to find ways to feel safe, and this transformed into an ability to be very sensitive about people's emotions, to the point of being an empath too. We grew up being caring towards others, validating them often, listening to them and trying to protect them from what we've been experiencing first hand.

We may have had to live in survival for long and that messed up a little with our memory: it can still affect us nowadays. We may have problems in expressing ourselves and/or learning/remembering stuff (sometimes our memories can get a little twisted from reality because of this shock too).

We may have been punished or yelled at for small mistakes when we were little and now tend to overreact even to little things. We may be seeking for perfectionism. We may also try to always explain us constantly in fear of being misunderstood or to "save" ourselves from easy and wrong judgement, even when it's not really the case.

We may have been grown up with parents/caregivers carrying anger and/or control issues, and still be triggered/scared when dealing with conflicts or someone's anger. We may be trying to keep a quiet and warm environment, even at the cost of taking the blame for something we haven't done or surrendering even if we know we're right (some though may need to actually go full force in and take over the other person so to change what has been).

We may have problems being vulnerable, having low self confidence cause of past gaslighting. We feel lonely, lacking trust in others, and having an hard time forming good relationships with others: we easily feel exhausted, judged, and unable to be vulnerable, fearing to scare everyone away and ending up alone once again after having lived an illusion (which would break us even more).

We may be trying to relive our trauma both in order to understand + heal and to feel safe (we are in a "known" place, where the unknown can't happen). It can also happen unconsciously through nightmares and sleep paralysis: these may tell us to keep an eye on what's going on on the outside and at the same time trigger our feelings of unsafety, powerlessness and vulnerability (and other fears too).

We need to try to remind ourselves that is okay to feel these emotions. But that now we're safe and know what is all about, we need to take care of us, even through the help of a therapist/professional. Let's just be kind and forgiving with ourselves for not knowing back then while we're healing, learning and working on us.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

06 saturn ii. where ushijima’s words take you by surprise. 

<< 05 saturn i. | >> 07 sun and moon.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: i am back from my trip now, i will be posting more regularly again, thank you for staying! i loved reading the tags on your reblogs of one summer day, they make my heart go WAHHH! my inbox is always open if you want to chat <3 - ave word count: 1.5k warnings: angst, childhood trauma, parental neglect/verbal abuse, past death of a family member

april, second year

“you don’t have to be the person in your house with me.”

since he stayed with you that night, there has been a medley of conflicting feelings swirling in you. you had felt embarrassed in the morning, but also relieved for his presence. and this burning shame in your chest whenever you see him and his eyes seem to ask, are you alright? 

you could tell he wants to ask so many questions, but he is holding himself back, waiting for you to tell him yourself. worst of all, you wanted to tell him, consequences be damned. but you were afraid he would see you differently. you don’t think you could bear the person who’s seen you at your worst decide you were not worth his time. but if you wait any longer, perhaps he would decide that anyway. 

“what i mean is, you can be yourself around me, always.” you know that. deep down, you feel it. 

“ushijima–” you start, staring down at your shoes, thinking about how to explain that day to him without trauma dumping on him. 

he corrects you, “wakatoshi”

your cheeks color, testing the way his name rolls off your tongue, “wakatoshi… i owe you an explanation…”

you decide it is easier to start from the day everything changed. so you tell him what you haven’t been able to tell any of your friends since that day eight years ago. about your sister, akiko’s death anniversary. that she passed away in an accident, and that it was your fault for leaving her outside the house when your mother tasked you to look after her. that even though eight year old you went in to get some water for the both of you playing outside, it was still your fault. that she had ran out after a stray cat and did not see the car coming. that it was your fault. 

“am i a terrible person?”

and then you hold your breath, knowing there is a possibility that he would have that accusing look in his warm brown eyes. beautiful with tiny flecks of greens and golds. you think those are your favorite features of him. and fuck, it would hurt like hell if that is the way he looks at you from now on. but you had taken a leap of faith, all you can do is hope for the best. hope that the feeling in your gut is not wrong.

“and your parents, why weren’t they around?” for their daughter’s death anniversary goes unspoken. of all the questions he could have asked, he sure did pick the most difficult one, you thought. 

“let’s just say we all cope in our own ways. akiko’s death… it changed our family for the worse. my father threw himself into work to forget about it… my mother… her grief made her meaner, colder, it changed her.” 

he gives you a concerned look, causing you to hurriedly explain that your mother is not abusive. “she’s just different than the mother i had when akiko was still here. she cared less about us, her words became sharp, like knives designed to hurt, especially when it comes to me, but she never laid a hand on us. i think her grief morphed into anger, and she never stopped blaming me for that day.”

“it isn’t your fault, you know that, right?” he grabs your wrist, turning you around to look at him. 

your next words comes out in a whisper. “i know, but if i hadn’t left her, akiko would still be here. if i had done what i was supposed to, my parents wouldn’t have lost their daughter, and we could have been happy,” your voice cracks. 

“you were a child. it wasn’t your fault. do you understand?” his strong grip on your shoulders forces you to look into his eyes. there was no judgement in them. no accusing look, no blame, only resolution. and they made you feel safe. “you cannot be blamed for your parent’s decisions, and it was their responsibility to look after their children’s well-being, not an eight year old child. your only duty was to grow up.”

an unidentifiable feeling overwhelms you, welling up tears in your eyes. what is it about me and crying in front of ushijima? you had been fine, just fine before he came along and messed up your coping system. every year before this on that day, you wouldn’t even cry, believing that all your tears had been spent when you were eight. that all you could do is feel empty and sad and self-destructive on that day while lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling until the sun comes up. 

oh gods, you were eight, and you had believed that it was your fault your family lost a sister, a daughter, and your mother let you believe it. she never let you forget it. all the hurtful words hurled at you. all the pain you swallowed and carefully locked away in a box. 

your home stopped being a home that day. 

home should feel safe. home should be a place you long to be after a long day, not somewhere you dreaded. home should feel like a warm blanket on cold winter days, not a house that is a place to eat and sleep. home should feel safe. but it doesn’t.

you had known it for a long time. but you had been running away, refusing to face the fact. that maybe if you pretended hard enough, it would all go away. all this heartbreak that you had hidden away would vanish. 

“i don’t think my mother fully forgave me for it. i don’t think she forgave herself either.” but you were only a child. and all you wanted was her love, and approval, and support, and presence in your life. 

you look up at the stars shining in the dark sky, wondering if your sister is one of the millions smiling down at you from a far away distance. “she would have been in junior high if she was still here.” you smile sadly at the stars, thinking of the life that she could have had ahead of her. all taken away in one unfortunate moment. 

“your sister would want you to be happy, to live for yourself. i think she would find solace in that.”

you turn sharply to look at ushijima. “i–i have been doing my best to survive.”

his voice turns gentle, “but not truly living.”

“have you spoken to anyone about this?”  he inquires, though you think he knows the answer.

you clench your fists, looking away, a rising feeling in your chest that you identify as discomfort. oh, he is safe, but he is not afraid to tell you the truth, no matter how much it hurts. “you’re the first.”  

no one would understand anyway. not your parents, if they even cared enough to listen to you. not your brother, who had pushed you to open up, he lost his sister that night too. 

“then you no longer carry the burden by your lonesome. live, y/n, for you and your sister.”

live. he says it like it is so easy. as if living in that house doesn’t make you gasp for breath. if only your house did not also feel like your prison. if only being alive when your sister no longer breathes does not feel like a sin. as if everyday does not feel like being trapped in the past. 

and then with excruciating realization, you admit it. “i don’t know how.” 

the recognition leaves your head spinning, and you seek the comfort that you had felt in his arms. looping your arms around his torso, you bury your head into his chest. how do i do this how do i do this how do–

“you take it day by day. one foot in front of you at a time. and you keep looking forward.” he tilts your chin up, searching your eyes. “i will be right next to you.” he promises. 

“don’t say things you don’t mean.” please don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“y/n, i only say things i mean.” you hope he sees the gratitude in your eyes. you really hope he means it. because you think you can make it, with him by your side. when you’re with ushijima, you can truly breathe. with him by your side, you can see a glimpse of your future tonight. maybe not tomorrow, not a month from now, but one day, you could be happy. 

akiko, did you send him to me? thank you. i love you. i miss you. i miss you so much. but i think i need to learn to let you go now. 

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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[osseus-naydra]

thinking about how Charlie’s pain is real. Her actions, while I wouldn’t say justify, at least have reason behind them. And she blames it all on Maxwell. Not just for sending them to the constant and everything after that, but before.

Maxwell spends more time with his work, not telling her anything about the shadow creatures until she inevitably finds out herself when she visits his apartment. she wished he would have let her in.

thinking about how absolutely terrified Charlie looked in Encore when the ancient fuelweaver appeared behind her, presumably before they combined and she became one with the shadow creatures.

thinking about how Charlie probably didn’t want to be the “villain” here. how ashamed she looked after electrocuting wilson and sending him back to the constant after freeing him from the throne.

thinking about how guilty she feels for dragging Winona into this, that she never meant for her to come here, even though it wasn’t exactly her fault.

how Charlie’s unused quotes for Winona’s comment on how Winona has changed so much, implying Charlie probably doesn’t realize how much time had passed for her sister. how long they were apart for

thinking about how when Charlie’s monster and human sides combined, she changed and became unrecognizable to Maxwell and Winona. Her unused quotes deviate from regret about Winona’s presence to anger about Maxwell.

thinking about how Winona reached out to Charlie in the ancient archive, hoping to find the sister she’d lost, only for Charlie to leave, seemingly not caring about her anymore.

thinking about the newest animated short. Winona misses Charlie, she misses who she used to be, both before they grew up and before the constant. Charlie may appear apathetic to Winona now, but she also made an effort to not let another pair of sisters get separated (Abigail and Wendy).

thinking about how much Charlie has changed. would she still do the same things if she wasn’t part shadow? did the shadows help her figure out what she really wants and how to get it, or are they clouding her judgement and using her for their gain?

[thefloatingstone]

My apologies. I meant no bad faith. I was just surprised you hadn't come across that part yet.

Well I have only done one run and I have never been openly hostile and cruel to him. I know that if you turn him down, he accepts it and is fine with it. So I assume only if you are REALLY cruel to him and choose the dialogue options clearly expressing that you find him disgusting for being a mindflayer.

Because if you just turn him down normally he accepts, is disappointed, and moves on.

In which case, if you call him a disgusting monstrous mindflayer, is it REALLY so surprising for him to respond by showing you illusions of JUST how disgusting a mindflayer you think he is and lean into your belief that that is what he is? His entire THING is trying to placate you so you and him can have an alliance to kill the elder brain. If you lash out at him in anger and disgust, would it not make most sense to, instead of argue, agree with you and reinforce that image because it will at LEAST continue the alliance?

Not to mention The Emperor expresses very VERY obvious signs throughout the entire game that, for all his talk about being happy about being a mindlfayer and that he sees it as a positive, he is very affected by other people's judgement of him being a mindflayer. (Which is an interesting detail to think about how when that insecurity rooted itself in him because it is NOT from his own issues with being a mindflayer. Or at least he very earnestly expresses he views becoming a mindflayer as a positive which is why he encourages you to become at least part ilithid yourself)

But anyway

There are multiple situations, conversations and details where he shows he is overly self-aware on how being a mindflayer is judged by others. SPECIFICALLY in regards to him being viewed as a monstrosity. This is clearly a sore spot for him.

So if you call him disgusting? And if you hit exactly in the weak spot? Can you fucking BLAME him for lashing out and going "ok if that is what you think I am then fucking fine by me. Here I will even give you AMMO to think of me as a monster". resurrecting ironclad walls between himself and you on an emotional level so there can be NO mistake on where either of your feelings lie.

After all, lying to you about being an angelic dream guardian here to save you from your doomed fate didn't work. Why not then lean into the lie of being the ilithid abomination you think he is?

Also Anon you absolutely did mean it in bad faith because I kept answering you on why I liked the grey morality going on here and your response was to push more and more into "Ok but he did an evil thing" when you were not satisfied by my response. Do not insult my intelligence please.

[bireggiemantle]

What about Fred? He's not an archie or a bad dad

see I would argue that fred is a bad dad, though. sure he's nowhere near the levels of hal or nana rose in his parenting, but I just don't think he's a very present or active father to archie. fred views archie as an extension of himself, and ends up projecting a lot of his priorities and decisions onto archie because of that. it's why he seems so confused and offended by archie's decisions to pursue music, or his decision to step away from his dad's company. his aspirations, opinions, and priorities do not align with fred's and we often see fred attempt to shut them down before attempting to understand them. fred also doesn't seem very interested in archie's life. he rarely knows about what archie has going on, especially in season 2. he also holds archie to a weirdly high standard of maturity and independence and his anger towards archie over working with hiram is hypocritical and unexplained, especially since fred himself works for hiram. he gets angry with archie for accepting hiram's guidance and gifts while turning his back on archie and refusing to give him the support hes begun seeking out in hiram, which just results in archie growing closer and closer to hiram and getting hurt far worse than he would have otherwise. fred is also very rude to jughead, projecting fp's flaws onto jughead in the same way he projects his success's onto archie, and his choice to kick jughead out and "warn" archie against being friends with him is nothing short of cruel. fred also treats veronica negatively because of hiram's wrongdoings, and tries to get archie away from her. his policing of archie's relationships echos alice's manipulation of betty, particularly in the early show when she's attempting to convince betty to abandon jughead, archie, and veronica. fred rarely ever wants to hear archie's opinion on his friends, issues, or hobbies either, and doesn't take them into account when communicating with or about archie at all. id argue that mary is more involved than fred is, as we see her checking in with archie, providing him with patience and understanding, and offering him advice without outwardly judging or jumping to extreme conclusions about the nature of the people he loves/trusts. comparably, fred is far from the worst parent on the show, but that doesn't make him a good one either. he isn't abusive, but he's emotionally unavailable, unadaptable, and judgemental in a way that has some deep rooted negative consequences on archie, many of which are visible in the ways he values older male validation or the ways he idolizes his late father. I think archie's bond with fred is very interesting, but it's definitely not healthy, and fred is to blame for a good portion of why.