#this is objectively the worst part of living in lots of different places and then finally putting down roots in one

[thatswhatsushesaid]

Top fave foods?

ooops sorry anon i have no idea how i missed this?? okay let’s go:

shredded peking duck with scallions and hoisin sauce. used to enjoy them on the little pancakes you get from takeout places but alas, they are not gluten-free, and gluten hates me. also i can’t ever find any peking duck outside of the uk that tastes the same as it does at the place down the street from my uncle’s outside london. rip.

buttermilk biscuits + white sawmill gravy, which i also can only enjoy ever again if i find decent gluten-free recipes for them. actually just… just assume anything on this list that has gluten in it can only be enjoyed by me hypothetically. anyway this is objectively the tastiest delicacy from the deep south in the US, i’ll die on this hill.

pecan pie, as baked by my mother, who uses an ungodly amount of both sugar and butter. (i almost chose peach cobbler, god, this was hard.)

squash casserole, a comfort food from my childhood.

montreal-style bagels from st. viateur in quebec 🙌

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part One

Link to Part Two

TW mentions of human trafficking, rescue, injury, trauma

Steve locks Eddie in the car which, yeah, okay, it makes Eddie jump a little reflexively at the quiet click of the lock. And it might just be habit, or whatever, because it’s a really nice car.

Or maybe he’s even doing it for Eddie’s safety.

It still feels like he’s been locked in, though, and Eddie finds he’s...really not a fan of how this feels.

Either way, when Steve comes back less than ten minutes later and opens Eddie’s side of the car, Eddie’s still not sure how to feel about it. Suspicion is hard to shake.

Steve kneels right there on the floor of the lot, “swing around,” Eddie does, watching as Steve pulls antiseptic wipes out of the bottom of the bag, opening a packet and lifting Eddie’s foot. Eddie hisses when the wipe makes contact, it’s cold and, even though surely most of the wounds have scabbed by now, it still stings quite a bit, “sorry.” Steve looks up at Eddie earnestly, big eyes and floppy hair and, well, the moles are cute.

And having an Alpha kneel on the floor for him, that’s kind of nice too. Maybe Steve really is that good looking.

He wraps Eddie’s feet in a bandage, some tube bandage over the top, Eddie still slurping on his peanut butter chocolate shake. He’s going to have the absolute worst shit later, he knows it, too much rich food all at once, after a really long time of non at all, but honestly, so worth it.

“When we get home, I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms, and maybe we can order you some clothes?” Steve pulls the bandage comfortably tight around Eddie’s foot, a nice gauze pad wrapped around the sole for cushioning.

“Errr, I mean, I, before, I was usually a good will kind of shopper, you know? Maybe Target on a good day?”

Steve just blinks at him for a second, before that clearly sinks in, “don’t...don’t think about the money, if that’s what you mean, we can get you some clothes, really, I don’t mind.”

And Eddie’s sure as fuck not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steve’s already broke the bank on Eddie, what’s a little more, right?”

Eddie whistles, he can’t help it. Objectively, obviously, he knew Steve was loaded. There’s a difference between knowing that and…seeing it. This is like a fucking mansion. Well, it’s not like a mansion, obviously. It is a mansion.

Automatic electric gates, a drive that’s got to be a half mile long...and lawns. Trees. Land stretching off into the distance.

The house is fucking nice. It’s kind of sprawling...just the garage looks fucking massive on it’s own.

Steve sort of hovers around Eddie as he limps over the threshold, and, yeap, just as nice inside as it is outside. Very sleek and modern, big open spaces, lots of glass. Dark wood and bookcases filled with leather books and big paintings that look impressive but aren’t...well. Eddie’s not a fan, really. Eddie spies a building out the back, also lots of glass...Eddie’s money is on indoor pool.

“Something smells good,” Eddie says, as he limps further into the house, “smells kind of homey.” Which is true, something here smells vaguely relaxing. Kind of...comforting. Safe.

Eddie looks around as he gets further in, and the place is so big it is kind of a walk, it’s...really nice, but also kind of soulless. It doesn’t look lived in at all. And, Eddie frowns, something occurring to him for the very first time. Steve’s a good looking Alpha, and he’s fucking loaded, “will your, erm,” Eddie flounders, “partner, mind me being here?”

Steve laughs, seeing Eddie through to the lounge to sit on the couch, “don’t think I would have been able to play my part today if I were in any kind of serious relationship. Hagan would have known if I was seeing anyone, the press loves that shit.”

And yeah, all of that makes total sense, and Eddie feels kind of stupid for not putting that together. But it...doesn’t really make sense, considering Steve is, still, clearly, very hot and very loaded.

“Okay,” Steve plops a laptop into Eddie’s lap, open to a clothing website. “just open tabs on some stuff you’d like, and then give it back to me when you’re done. You’re going to need some clothes while Hopper tracks down your uncle, okay? I’m going to go and set up a room.”

Eddie’s just sort of rolling with it at this point, so he nods and smiles and then blinks down at a Tom Ford Slim-Fit Button-Down Collar Checked Cotton shirt...that’s nearly seven hundred dollars.

And Eddie would never, in a million fucking years, be caught dead in it. Honestly, he thinks he actually prefers the white nightdress.

Eddie looks at the drop down menu, clicks on ‘cashmere’ for shits and giggles, and then laughs to himself when the very first listing is a black turtle-neck...for over a thousand odd dollars. Fucking rich people are batshit.

Eddie manages to find a drop down that lets him filter out everything over two hundred and fifty dollars, and then he searches by lowest price first. He starts opening tabs, mostly inoffensive lounge wear – a large portion of which is very, very unfortunately beige.

Eddie hears Steve coming before he sees him, “just do it please Carol,” and he sounds...exasperated by whoever Carol is. Steve comes back and takes the laptop. He very very briefly frowns at Eddie over the top of the screen, but it’s over so fast Eddie’s not entirely sure he saw it, “you think you’ll want something more to eat later?”

Eddie did eat his weight in McDonalds a couple of hours ago...but he hasn’t been really full for years, “uhm, yeah, in a bit, maybe?”

“Sure, I’ll see what we have.”

And then Eddie just...sits there. He can’t actually remember the last time he just...sat on a couch. The only place the Omega at the ranch are allowed to sit is either the floor, when they’ve been told to, the table, but only when eating...and probably their beds in the dorm.

Sitting here feels kind of naughty, actually, sitting here, relaxing, comfortable and warm. Eddie touches the lush, velvety feel of the couch, it’s really nice, really soft-“chicken and pasta?” Eddie nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. Like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Logically, he knows that isn’t the case, but his feet are tingling regardless.

Steve can actually cook, who knew? Well, it might only be a simple dish, browned off chicken chunks in something creamy and mushroomy, sitting on some pasta, but it’s absolutely delicious.

“We should probably get someone to look at your feet tomorrow.”

Eddie shrugs, nearly vibrating with excitement at the sight of garlic bread and trying his best to hide it, “always been fine before.”

“Still, I wouldn’t want them getting infected. Do you want me to tell Hopper anything about your uncle? I presume he will be busy for a little bit but…?”

Eddie swallows but...nods, Steve getting his phone and Hoppers card, “he’s called Wayne Munson, he’s my dads brother. He lives in a trailer park in, uhm, Hawkins. Indiana.”

Steve taps at his phone, “that’s not actually that far, we could...probably drive that, maybe in a day, once you feel up to it. I’ll see what Hopper says, see if he gets back to us tomorrow, I figure we've both had a long day.”

And that sounds...well. Eddie's running out of reasons to be suspicious, to question this, to question Steve. He has a little kernel of hope, real, genuine hope, growing inside him now...that this is true. That he's going to be free. That he's going to see Wayne.

Eddie nods, keeps eating, is thrilled when Steve offers him a beer, nodding happily. Steve withdraws it at the last second, “wait, just how old are you?”

“Errr…twenty one?”

Steve laughs, “try again,” but he does hand over the beer.

“Eighteen. I was there for a couple of years, maybe a bit longer, they got me walking home from school. Pretty sure my parents wouldn’t have, you know, noticed, probably best I don’t go back there, anyway. Quite a few Omega came through in the time that I was, you know, there...”

Steve’s staring off into space though, looking somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder, clearly not listening.“-oh.”

“Errr...Steve, you okay?” Steve looks like his brain has just stalled. Like completely shut down, “Steve, man, you’re freaking me out a bit here.”

Steve frowns, finally showing some life, his fork still literally hanging in air, half way to his mouth, “Tommy Hagan is probably being arrested.”

“I, err...I mean, yeah? I fucking hope he is?”

As Eddie watches, a bit of chicken falls off Steve’s fork and splats onto his plate, “right now, other than me, you, and the FBI...no one knows that. That Tommy’s being arrested, arrested for something fucking terrible.”

“Riiight…”

“He’s being arrested for something he can’t come back from. It’ll got public. His names about to be mud. His stocks are going to tank. Every part of everything Tommy owns is about to go up in flames.” Steve’s fork clangs onto the plate, “I’m so sorry, I have to go to work.”

“I...what?”

Steve’s already picking up his phone, his keys, sliding on his jacket, “help yourself to anything you need, I’ll be back...at some point.” Steve’s already calling someone, “I need you in the office, right now. I want Wheeler, from legal, make sure finance is there, actually, make sure Henderson has availability tomorrow,” Steve comes back from the front door, sliding a business card in front of Eddie, “no, right now, I’m on my way, twenty minutes.”

Eddie looks at the card; it’s Steve’s, has his email, office number and mobile on it, presumably so Eddie can get hold of him. Eddie’s pretty sure he just witnessed the first steps of a hostile take over, or something.

And now he’s in this massive house, all alone.

Link to Part Four

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

[internationem]

Just a reminder: intent is much, much more important to genocide than the amount of people dying. simply put, the amount of dead civilians isn't what makes a genocide a genocide.

for example, up to 33k bosnians are estimated to have died because of the bosnian genocide. in contrast, the estimated amount of japanese civilians dead during WWII is between 330k and 900k. yet most (serious) people wouldn't ever consider that there was a genocide against the japanese people. why? well, no government wanted to, planned or carried out systematic attacks with the intent of erasing, in whole or in part, the japanese people. yet, however, it is fairly easy to prove that the serbs wanted the bosnians gone and acted accordingly. You can even fullfill the material criteria for the Genocide Convention (ie killing people, or causing body or mental harm to a population) to a certain extent but if the intent behind those actions isn't to destroy a national/ethnic/etc group, then it's not genocide, the fullfilment of the material elements themselves aren't proof that there's a genocide without fullfilment of the mental element.

This isn't to overlook civilian deaths, but truth is, in modern warfare, civilians ARE gonna die, and that sucks massively, but we have a a whole branch of international law that help mitigate a lot of civilian deaths and allow for criminals to be held accountable for violation of civilian rights and livs, without having to erroneously call every single conflict where people die a genocide.

Similarly, it may be true that a lot more people are dying in the Israel-Gaza war than in the 7/10 attacks, but why did Hamas attack Israel in the first place? Why has Israel been attacked fairly frequently since it's independence? Because they want to completely erase Israel as a whole and expel (and kill, or best case scenario, convert) the jewish people out of the Middle East. This is very easy to prove, read Hamas founding charter and literally any history book that talks about wars against Israel or the expulsion of Jews from several ME countries. It's what the whole "from the river to the sea" slogan is about. It's also the very reason Israel needs to exist. But meanwhile, there's little to nothing that points out Israel wants to wipe out Palestinians as a group: 20% of their citizens are Palestinians who enjoy the same rights as Jewish citizens of Israel and aren't targeted, even Palestinians of the West Bank aren't usually targeted in a way that would even imply the IDF wants to erase them as a group, and even considering the Gaza campaign, its objective is to erradicate Hamas, not Palestinians, and nothing in Israel's policy outwardly implicates they want to erradicate all Gazans. Palestine, and especially Gaza, has massive population growth, which wouldn't make sense if there was a genocide campaign against them. This isn't to say the IDF is doing everything perfectly or that there aren't war crimes being commited. But war crimes don't mean genocide.

Calling what's happening in Gaza genocide is antisemitic, because not only are we applying different standards to Israel than we do any other country, we are also saying that Jewish people defending themselves is, inherently, a crime, one of the worst crimes defined at that. But it's also harmful to palestinians, because claiming that Israel's war against Hamas is a war against Palestinians equates Palestinians (many of whom just want to live regular lives, not war) with terrorists (who also target them, by the way), which seems islamophobic as hell if i'm being honest. it is also insensitive and damaging to every group that has been the victim of genocide, and every group which might be a victim of a genocide in the future, because how you're twisting the definition of the word to mean whatever you want it to mean. If everything is a genocide, nothing is.

[austinsastrology8991]

Uranus and why your life is a ShiT ShoW > URANUS IN Yer HOUSe <

Uranus in the FIrst - You are the most unpredictable little fuck-head that everyone loves. They always change > there clothes, there direction in life > their hair colour. they thrive in change unless you try to change them, they are the ones changing and dont you dare change them, thats all they have left ;( Uranus in the Second. - Crazy self esteem issues. these people think they are the greatest then the worst person, also same applies to their income because they dont think they are worth much, until they invest into bitcoin and think they will be the next warren buffet. honestly the only thing stable about you is the perception of your value changing. But they love change, something to look forward to i guess Uranus in the Third your brain and communication skills are kinda fucky you know that dont you. you always know how to say something shocking, and extremely good at changing the subject of a conversation, like you dont have to say much, but what you do say just made everyone go huh what the fuck you say? its amusing tho we appreciate you Uranus in the F4urth - Emotionally avoidant, dependent, and attached personalities. They cant make their mind up on how they feel, so they experiemnt with every feeling to see if they vibe with that. mum was probably very unpredictable, and they wanna be like her. they just trying their best to forgive her <3 Uranus in the Fifth - Okay this one is the genius. This one people actually think your onto something when your showing off because you break free of every social convention, and archetype, but in the most perfect way. everyone believes your special, and you can change the vibe of a room like dat Uranus in the Sixth - what a fkn mess your life is. I had this one friend who would have 10 different drinks in his room and he would drink each one sparingly (they were all warm too). he had some serious health issues, and lets not get into his mental health okay. but yall have crazy lives and you make it that way Uranus in the Seventh - Im not a player i just fuck a lot. they choose their partners based off how interesting they are, if you can satiate their curiosity you got em. but if your boring or not worth figuring out yeah g-bye. also they just come off strange so everyone is extremely curious. they get projected on a lot but they dont mind its a good way to find out something interesting lol Uranus in the Eighth - Freaks who will do anything.... and im not just talking about sex, if they want something they'll find any way to get it. masters of attainment, even if its probably not healthy for them, they don't care if they want it they get it. then the object of their fixation changes as soon as they do get it. they are like obsessed with 'progress' but its hard to call it that sometimes Uranus in the Ninth - Clever minds who are always skipping segments of a speech, or a video to find the juicy parts. They have very quick minds that are so easily bored, but if you talk to them, they'll never not have something interesting to talk about. also when change does occur its a LOt Uranus in the Tenth - why are yalll like this. just baffling people like they know how to make an entrance and when everyone starts loooking at them, they decide to make fun of everyone by doing something a lil bit too shocking, almosst making fun of you for looking at them. gets off on shocking ya Uranus in the Eleventh - They wanna change the world, but not in a way that is practical. until it is. They have a million friends because they have a knack for understanding people, but when you ask what they want or what scares them. it just makes you rethink why your even friends with them in the first place. 12 - your crazy. and its endearing but everyone is this close to calling the cops on you or locking you up in a psyche ward. maybe tone down your retardation. we all got something going on but you take it to a whole new level.

[chefkids]

what do you think is going to happen to ebraheim in s3 :(

Grief and loss is a big part of the series with the loss of Mikey obviously, Sydney's mom, and now Marcus' mom, but we don't talk enough about Ebra who objectively has had it worst and seen horrific things. Everyone loves to talk about how Carmy is so traumatized, but Ebra literally lived through a Civil War.

He is a refugee from Somalia, we've seen him share little bits of information about his past, like his family meal suqaar, or when they were talking about forming a brigade he mentioned his time being in a brigade during the Somali Civil War. In Review when he's helping Richie after he got stabbed, he tells him the story of Black Hawk down battle of Mogadishu.

He definitely has some level of PTSD, he didn't want to wear a uniform at culinary school, and Tina had to reassure him that it "was not that kind of uniform" and then when she said there were a lot of Sydney's in culinary school he told her "Don't look them in the eyes." But honestly seems to handle things pretty well and is generally unphased by the chaos of the kitchen. Carmy clearly also has some PTSD from his traumatic upbringing that makes him panic, and I think they both find comfort in the kitchen but in different ways. Ebra enjoys the chaos and loudness while Carmy is about the perfectionism and order.

He was also arguably one of the nicer people to Sydney from the start and respected her quickly, I think because she reminded him of Tina in a way with how assertive she is but still looks out for people. He's also a feminist icon. He also knew they needed help and Carmy wasn't cutting it. He quickly saw the good in her by how she was giving confidence to Marcus. He was the one reading the review and being excited for Sydney and for The Beef getting positive recognition. He was happy to see it change for the better because he cares a lot about The Beef.

But seeing turn into something completely different and riskier with The Bear is scary for him and he didn't really feel like he was changing with the place and felt like he was getting left behind. He was very close with Mikey and worked there for decades, so hopefully we see them together in Mikey's flashbacks. He was also very worried about Carmy messing up the place and the system. I'm sure we'll get more Tina Ebra shenanigans, I think Ebra is a bit of enigma who is always going to be throwing in random bits of his dark lore. He's going to be in charge of the sandwich window in the back when it opens. He was the only one still wearing The Beef uniform, he's an embodiment of the past. But it's not just The Beef that is changing, the entire neighborhood is. I think the window in the back and the main kitchen are going to kind of battle it out. The Beef already has an established clientele and regulars, which are quite a different demographic than the people who are likely to dine at The Bear and it's going to be interesting to see how they all fit in together in Season 3.

[whetstonefires]

I think a part of the reason I feel so connected to JGY and XY is that I, too, think everyone is lying about what a good person they are. Sure, there may be a few genuinely good people, but those are in the minority and never claim the title.

I don't know about never; some people are pretty straightforward.

And in some ways the whole point of the concept of 'a good person' is that the feeling of losing the right to consider yourself one can impose instinctive recoil from doing wrong, in situations where you don't have the leisure of working your way through an ethics diagram and choosing the logically moral path before reacting to a situation. It has practical utility.

But that system can backfire pretty horribly too, in a lot of ways. It can be hijacked by definitions of 'good' that actually make you recoil from ethical acts because they're deviant. It can lead to disappearing up your own ass lmao.

And definitely the threshold for 'talking about how you're a good person' enough that it makes you suspect as either a) a liar or b) someone who values that self-image over objective reality and other people's wellbeing is. Not very high.

Jin Guangyao, ironically, is one of those people who's so performatively A Good Person in his public life that in retrospect it looks like a red flag. Which knowing this about himself in an ongoing fashion ofc just reinforces his own cynicism about everyone else lmao.

Even Lan Xichen, who I think he may see as a genuinely good person, he also sees as an easy mark who will reliably choose what is comfortable over what is 'right,' if you just structure the scenario to make that an easy choice that's easy for him to justify.

Xue Yang's bitterness is in many ways more exciting than Jin Guangyao's because he has a way more unusual relationship to reality, but it does share a lot of notes.

The role of deception in his psychology fascinates me because as far as I can tell he's as instinctively straightforward a person as Lan Wangji, albeit along quite different lines involving a total lack of impulse control, but has adopted 'deceit' as a weapon against the wicked world in the same way he has adopted 'murder.'

But when he feels someone is not merely lying but papering over bad behavior with principles they are not living up to he is livid.

People claiming to be better than him because they're 'good' when 'good' is a construct of privilege, is the underlying idea he's not equipped to articulate. Except he takes that and applies it to 'hitting me to interrupt my random murder of some guy who happened to be within arm's reach when I wanted to hurt someone.'

Which isn't like philosophically perfect, but the underlying problem he's actually reacting to is that he understands the social contract as a lie that has never protected him but seeks to control him, while protecting rich men it has no power to control.

Which it is fair to be mad about, but then his feeling is that since that's the nature of the world and all people, he is entitled to amass for himself the power to inflict hurt without consequences as much as he possibly can, and to use it against the vulnerable for fun, and no one is entitled to interfere.

Which brings him to a place where he is violently angry at anyone talking about trying to treat other people well as a value, because either they're a hypocrite and a liar or they threaten his entire system of rationalization for why he can be The Worst and still In The Right.

'Everyone is equally bad, actually' is like, an understandable take for anyone who's had cause to become embittered. Everyone is free to make whatever philosophical peace they can with the world and by and large there's no ethical weight to any such opinion, in itself.

But it's an ideological crutch people tend to wind up leaning on very heavily when they can't or don't want to take responsibility for their own behavior.

Which is an approach that Xue Yang, Jin Guangyao, and Su She all share, and which not only is shitty of them, it...traps them in a wheel of doubling down on their own worst impulses because rather than going 'that was bad and I shouldn't do it again' they've repeatedly invested all this energy into making what they did actually the correct thing, according to their interpretation of the context. Which means they're more likely to do it again.

(I think this is how Jin Guangyao became a serial killer, for example. He followed a doing-a-murder-impulse and then internally doubled down on how he had nothing to be ashamed of, so he was more likely to do it again, every time.

Wei Wuxian's strain of self-righteousness about his revenge was less...thorough than Jin Guangyao's, because he had the benefit of going after people on the opposite side of a war from him while Meng Yao's first known murder plot was against a shitty boss. But it probably didn't help him not try to solve army-shaped problems with mass murder, even after that stopped being allowed.)

If any of them had just like, zero moral sensibilities they would have created very different problems, and very possibly fewer of them. It's making a central goal of your operations 'self-vindication in your own internal narrative, created retroactively via reframing' rather than 'figuring out what I think I should do and trying to do that' that traps them in the self-reinforcing murder pissbaby vortex.

So if you look at it one way, these three villains are themselves perfect examples of how pursuit of the 'feeling of being good' (or at least 'not the bad guy') can make you worse.

Notably Wei Wuxian was also extremely sensitive to hypocrisy in his youth; it was the only part of Madam Yu's behavior he was ever shown objecting to. But he's sufficiently mellow and cynical from regret and burnout by the 'present' timespan after his resurrection to just get disgusted and alienated about it, rather than outraged.

He wasn't even all that mad at Xue Yang, though honestly that may be partly because he stopped entirely characterizing him as a person at some point during their interaction. Like, there's no point being angry at someone whose moral sensibilities operate exclusively on the plane of 'is this unfair to me' for manipulating and destroying people who were good to him, and then getting obsessed with his own self-pity about it. This is not a person who understands how not to be, metaphorically speaking, a cannibal.

And Wei Wuxian did know better and still got roughly the same result, so what business does he have getting angry?

Anyway yeah those two villains are both delightfully relatable if you sit down and put their perspectives together; they are clearly operating with the same basic suite of human needs and emotions as everybody else, without that being in itself particularly exculpatory, which is honestly refreshing. They've just got the most fantastically toxic interpersonal habits that knowing them counts as some level of Suffering A Curse.

Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang do both stand as scathing rebukes of the society that created them. But within the narrative, wherein they're people, the fact is that each of them had agency and one of the things they chose to do with it was develop rationales for why they were the most special little guy and everything was someone else's fault.

And their moral nihilisms, while also grounded in serious trauma, ping me as emotional masturbation of this variety.

[nancyheart11]

Dads in a dungeon part 2!

They entered the next room and Abel had to close his eyes against the crime against architecture. There were pillars everywhere, going every which way, colliding smoothly before splitting gracefully like carved tree branches. It was horrible to look at, especially with the red, green, and blue intermingling with no rhyme or reason.

Wait… red, blue and green? Abel pulled out the triangle held within the delicate looking metal orb and held it out squinting.

“Well? The colors match up pretty well at least?” Rusl gave him an encouraging grin. Abel huffed at him, how helpful.

He turned the sphere and watched as the whole room, multiple large intersections as well as free floating pillars, moved–or at least the red ones did, which was the color the triangle inside now had facing downwards. Abel rubbed the spot where his growing headache was worst and walked onto the now conveniently placed pillar, walking up the somewhat steep incline until he got to the end, where he had to jump to another pillar. His foot slipped upon landing and Abel scrambled not to fall off the cylindrical object.

Heart pounding and feeling cold sweat run down his neck, Abel sat in place for a few precious minutes squeezing his eyes shut against the drop so long that it simply faded to black below him, with no end visible in sight. Rusl was calling something worriedly to him, and even Fierce’s loud rumble joined in, but Abel stood up and ran up the rest of the pillar.

Rusl and Fierce joined him on the now rather tight platform and upon realizing that there were many different nooks hidden around the room, had Abel stand in the middle and turn the triangle to whatever side was needed to get to the next platform for his companions. Abel was grateful they said nothing about him falling on the very first pillar, but by Rusl’s pat on the back he was sure they had noticed.

After far too much spinning of the room and a lot of backtracking that Abel was glad not to participate in they were finally able to leave the room with more rupees, arrows, and knowledge that the ‘twister,’ as Rusl had named it, was able to not just change orientation of things, but moved space as a whole. Abel was already planning on how they could use it to get to Link.

The next room was filled with lizalfos and easily taken care of by the trio; they didn’t even have anything besides pots to camouflage with! Once they were defeated, the hallway split in two directions. They took one and opened the door to many moving platforms that, after watching for a while, emerged a pattern. Rusl went across and came back with bombs and a smear of blood on his cheek, telling them there had been a Deku baba on the other side. The living, biting plant he described made Abel shiver, trying to imagine having to watch the very plants around them for attacks–taluses were bad enough as it was.

They went back through the split and found the door needed a key, which they quickly inserted. The room opened up, yawning wide, and on the other side was an enormous staircase. Only problem was, the staircase seemed to start melting only a short distance from the top. The first steps to be affected looked like chocolate that had been left in the sun on a hot summer day and then moved somewhere cool and dark to resolidify. Then they distorted step by step until the last clinging drips of stone stair led the eye towards the ground where a pile of what was likely once the rest of the stairs sat, utterly unrecognizable.

Why? Who would build stairs on such a grand scale only to then destroy them in such a strange manner? It made no sense to Abel. The shrines were bad enough, and those had the explicit purpose of training the hero for trials ahead.

Before he could think much more on it, skeletal hands pushed themselves out of previously unnoticed alcoves and revealed stals which attacked them in droves. Fierce took one side and Rusl and Abel took the other. Soon they discovered that those bombs were needed to keep the stals from simply reforming once defeated, though when Abel glanced over it seemed Fierce had no such trouble, figures.

After cleaning his sword and sheathing it for the time being, Abel began to explore the room. He hoped this one would have obvious clues, his head still ached from the pillar room. Eventually he realized there was a triangle motif cut into the ground reflecting the one he held in one hand, with a seed on one side, a healthy looking tree on another, and a stump on the third. He looked at the images and tried to figure out what in the world they meant!

Abel decided to simply turn the triangle blue side down to see what happened. He noted that like the other times he held the object, sides only seemed to shift when intent was involved, or else he’d have likely been flung off into the abyss when he slipped on the pillar earlier. So caught up in these thoughts he nearly missed the stairs moving, though not in a way he wanted. The stairs now dripped like melting snow rather than staying solid.

When he turned the red side to be down, the stairs flowed in reverse. It was almost beautiful to watch and see how they constructed themselves before him, looking as solid as any stone structure he’d known once every grain was in place. There was a click and Abel, remembering how the other stairs here had treated him, gingerly put one foot on the bottom step, hoping it wouldn’t be soft as sand to step on. To his relief it was solid, and together the group ventured up.

As it turned out the stairs continued beyond what they had been able to see from the floor below, though once they got out of the lighting from the last room, an alarming amount of webs started appearing, and they grew in size the further they went up. Rusl was happy enough to use an iron lantern to burn away the webs, but Abel couldn’t help shivering at how large a spider would have to be in order to make a web so thick.

He noted idly how even the webs were twisted by the dungeon, being circular, swirling things with twists and folds that hurt to look at too long instead of the normal patterns of sagging boxes Abel was used to seeing. He shuddered at the implications that any being within a dungeon long enough was changed by it, and felt his desire to leave increase to a painful degree, making his skin buzz uncomfortably.

They got to the top and torches lit up upon them stepping foot on the floor. Abel took two steps forward, felt something drip onto his head, and had the sudden overwhelming feeling that he was about to be attacked. Before he had finished turning around, Fierce had pushed him out of the way and a simply enormous spider was skewered on his sword. Abel shuddered but saw webs on the edges of his vision vibrating, so he stood up to defend against the beasts three men tall and very, very angry at being disturbed. Abel slashed and stabbed but his sword continued to bounce off the hard carapace of the thing.

“You have to hit them underneath! It’s the only place they’re soft!”

With that, Abel was finally getting in hits that pierced and caused sticky fluid to come out, until finally the spider could no longer hold itself up and he managed to decapitate it, watching its legs curl up so that he was sure it wouldn’t get back up for another round.

He fought another with Fierce, finding it almost laughably easy when the Deity simply flipped the thing over and stabbed into the floor before backflipping off with as much ease as he did anything.

When the last of the spiders was vanquished, a chest appeared in a burst of life, this one noticeably bigger than the other and decorated with horns at its corners. Fierce lit up, his eyes glowing brighter in his visible excitement as he went to the chest, pulling it open and presenting a much larger key than the ones found previously, the blackened metal twisting sharply around what appeared to be a ruby, managing to look both dangerous and wasteful at the same time.

Abel was not impressed.

Regardless, Fierce pocketed the key and they moved to the next room, which was empty. Immediately Abel looked up, wary of attacks from above after the last room. He found nothing. The room was almost painfully plain after the sheer obnoxiousness or feigned grandeur the others had offered, with only some plain ceramic pots in each corner to prevent it being entirely empty. That and the multitude of giant chains on the door, leading to a centralized lock that only Fierce could comfortably reach.

With a lack of anything better to do, Abel began looking in all the pots one by one. The first held a green rupee, which he grabbed and put in his pouch carefully. Pottery this old should be preserved after all, and he wouldn’t put it past the dungeon to have something horrible happen if one were broken. In the third group of pots he checked he found a fairy, napping at the bottom of the thing!

Abel dug around in his pack and found a spare bottle from something or other. He went to scoop up the fairy and hesitated. He knew it would be so helpful to have one, but could he really trap such a creature? He thought of Link’s scars that covered far, far too much of his boy, he thought of Tilieth’s absolutely gorgeous smile, and before he could second guess himself the fairy was bottled and being shoved inside his pack where he didn’t have to look at it.

Once all the pots had been checked, Rusl suggested they rest before going to the next room. Abel’s aching bones and head agreed, so he spent some time with his cloak over his eyes just breathing. Rusl came over and pushed him to sit. Abel grumbled minimally before–

Oh sweet Hylia, that felt amazing, no wonder he had a headache when his neck was so tense. Rusl continued to softly rub circles in the muscles and Abel could feel his shoulder come down from where they had moved up around his ears without him noticing. By the time Rusl stopped and shook out his hands, Abel was nearly slumped against the floor from the sheer relief the supposed farmer had provided without complaint or asking for anything in return. (He still remembered with dismay how much lighter their rupee pouch had been when Fierce came back from Gerudo Town.)

“Better?”

“Much, but uh how did you…?”

“You got that pinched look Link gets when he’s spent too long without a proper break, and you seem to carry your troubles on your shoulders, jus’ like him.”

Abel decided they have been in here for more than a day because such a simple sentiment had no right making him feel like chu jelly inside.

Then Fierce came over and glanced at Abel and Rusl.

“How did you do that, little Farmer? Is it possible to learn this? My Link could certainly do with that more often.”

Abel felt a flash of fear at the thought of the Deity trying to give anyone a neck massage; his back ached just thinking of the ‘pat’ Fierce had once given him.

Rusl’s sudden interest in the floor had Fierce huffing as he stood to his full intimidating height and pulled out the key. He inserted it into the lock, and Abel watched the waste of metal clatter to the floor before the large doors were pushed open and they entered, wary of danger. 

Standing in the center of the room was a pillar much like the ones they had set the stones in earlier. Where the others had shown a smooth dip in the middle for the stones to rest in, the one before him now had curving grooves carved into the bowl-like hollow that met smoothly in the middle. Abel pulled out the cage holding the triangle and felt a pang at the fact that he was about to give it up, but it seemed this was the clue he had on what to do next for the dungeon.

He gently set the thing down into the basin, having to twist it a bit to get the spindly metal aligned with the grooves of stone. There was a strange sound, like someone had taken a wind chime and thrown it at a wall. The sphere expanded impossibly, growing larger and larger until it filled the stone room and the pillar that once housed it had vanished. Abel nearly fell as the metal beneath his feet started turning, finding it hard to stay on his feet with the now constantly changing terrain.

He managed to find his feet among the swirling and turning just in time for the very walls to begin peeling away. The stones making up the walls churned and changed. For a moment Abel was worried they would be fighting some sort of talus! He watched as once the walls had created four legs and a body, with a blocky curled tail, the floor strayed towards the beast being made, to make the head. He felt a small shiver of relief amongst the heart-pounding fear as the spirals slowed, then stopped as less and less floor remained, leaving only a gaping, yawning black almost hungry in its completeness around them. Abel didn’t like his chances of having been able to jump from piece to piece, much less fight while doing so!

Finally the stone being was completed. It shuddered, glowing. Then horrible yellow and red eyes opened, glaring balefully at the group of trespassers. They drew their swords and began to fight. 

Immediately a rather large problem emerged. The lizard of sorts had used its tongue against Fierce, but in dodging he had fallen neatly through the gaps in the metal. Abel felt the whole structure shudder as a horrible screeching cry rang out from what he suspected was Fierce stabbing at the floor itself to stay airborne. The very tip of the double helix blade poking out of the metal proved his theory, but it was so smooth that it started slipping as fast as it had appeared.

So now they had lost their best fighter, had to fight in a hazardous battlefield–which would become more so the longer they took with the way another hole in the floor near the first puncture mark was made– and the lizard was made of stone, with no obvious weak point of ore like a talus.

Great.

Rusl jumped the gap and pulled out his golden cucco, hovering in the air with one hand and slashing at the creature’s tongue when it flicked out to try and harm him. Abel grimaced as he got out his bow, since Tilieth and Rusl were both better shots than him, but he truly couldn’t make himself even try to cross the gap. He’d noticed that the monster kept its eyes barely open until its tongue shot out, at which the lids flew wide open and the eyes nearly seemed to bulge, making them the perfect target to incapacitate the thing.

He missed twice before his third arrow landed right in the pupil of the giant lizard. It thrashed and stone blocks came flying off in all directions. Abel had to duck and weave around the shrapnel, coming dangerously close to the edge more than once in the effort to avoid getting hit. Rusl had dropped on what counted as the floor to avoid the flying rock, but once things settled he ran up the slope until pushing back into the air with his cucco.

“Now we just have to keep doing that! Good work Abel!”

Abel wondered at the complete trust Rusl was putting in him, and at the confidence that they would defeat the thing, Fierce or no Fierce. Abel pulled out another arrow and brought up his bow.

He ducked on instinct to avoid the tail sweeping his way while the tongue once again went after Rusl in the air. He blew some hair that had fallen over his eyes in annoyance, of course the monster was smart enough to try and prevent them from abusing its weakness the same way once more. This meant Abel had many more false starts, where he had to drop to avoid a tail swinging his way, but it was only the second arrow he fired that landed in the eye.

The rocks were more numerous this time, and faster too. He panted with the exertion of trying to dodge them all while staying on the narrow strip of metal that kept him from the abyss. He stumbled after a particularly tricky dodge and watched with a numb sense of impending pain as a stone came at him faster than he could move.

Suddenly the ear-splitting screeching of Fierce’s sword rending metal was much closer than heard previously, and Abel’s vision was overtaken by the large blade, only inches from his face. The rock plinked harmlessly off of the strange metal and the sword retreated back below the ground as the last of the rocks flew by.

Abel hoped that had been on purpose. He suspected that not even the mythical healing of a fairy would save him from Fierce’s disgustingly effective sword.

With the return of their ability to fight came a new challenge, because why would things stay predictable? The lizard would, after Rusl got a slash on the tongue, turn the color and texture of the metal and abyss, moving around and only regaining its stonelike state when it was about to attack them both again. So it took Rusl and him a considerable amount of both time and arrows to manage hitting the third time. Both acquired some cuts and bruises along the way.

Then the lizard rolled up, moving through the air like a wagon wheel from a particularly violent cart crash. Abel hit the floor as it came whizzing by and only cautiously peeked out from his hair when the sounds of displaced air stopped. 

It appeared that the lizard had changed tactics, for now it curled up and hid, sending bits of stone out that remind Abel eerily of pebblits to fight them. He had no blunt weapon with which to attack the annoyances, but when he caught a glimpse of the lizard out of the corner of his eye, it looked soft.

He managed to dig out a bomb while dodging the rocky pebblits, lobbing it almost desperately at the creature. He hit! Then the pebblit gave him what was sure to be a nasty bruise on his shin before retreating.

When the lizard was done moving violently through the air, the pebblits sent this time were noticeably more aggressive, and Abel found himself panting to keep up and dig a bomb out of his bag. He threw it, missed terribly as he had to jerk at the last moment to avoid getting clobbered again, then watched as Rusl was hit with a flying stone from the pebblit attacking him.

Rusl crashed to the ground, and instead of hopping up and going at the wall again like a madman, lay as a puddle of red grew beside him. Abel felt his eyes widen as he scrambled, what could he do? He had no hope of taking on this monster by himself–

The fairy!

But, in order to give Rusl the fairy, he would need to cross one of these gaps. He shuddered, but the pebblit charging at him gave him no time to fear as he leaped, his heart pounding in his ears and his stomach in his mouth. He nearly slid off the other side and scrabbled for purchase. A quick bomb was thrown at the approaching pebblit and he pulled out the bottle, trying to undo the cork with shaking hands. 

The fairy, apparently impatient, went through the glass bottle (why had they stayed in the first place?) and started flying in tight circles above Rusl, dropping glowing pink dust as they went. Abel held his breath, and only let it out when Rusl began to sit up.

“Wha? Oh! A fairy. I didn’t know we had one.”

“Oops.” Abel winced.

Rusl sent him a knowing look before clasping his outstretched hand and heaving himself up. With determination, they fought anew. It was hard and scary, but finally after two more bombs successfully detonated, the lizard separated into every individual stone, each vanishing one by one. The metal strips joined together to create a solid platform in the abyss with a strange door on one side. 

After the constant screech of metal and stone, arrows and bombs whistling through the air, and Rusl’s eye-burningly bright cucco’s cries, the silence was eerie, with only heavy panting breaths daring to be heard. Until Fierce’s head popped over the edge with a loud bang as his sword skittered away from where he was holding on with white knuckles to the platform and both Rusl and Abel were quick to help him up.

“I think… A nap is in order.” Fierce sounded strained, which was so strange coming from him that Abel blinked to make sure he was seeing things right.

“Cheers to that, Fierce!” Rusl only took the time to peel off his bloodstained clothes and use them as a pillow before he was asleep.

Abel couldn’t agree more, though before he joined his companions in the realm of dreams, he pocketed once more the strange, seemingly impossible triangle that had clattered to the ground in the middle of the platform.

@skyloftian-nutcase here's part 2! with a huge thank you to @bluevaractyl for helping me parse through my soup filled brain in making this much better!

[yeetspace]

Thought of another fucking beautiful way to deconstruct the whole myopic lens of all or nothing type voters who want to vote third party cuz the two main ones they know will win aren't ones they like 100%, hence why they're giving their third party vote. They know that not voting is bad they just don't want to not vote cuz they don't personally like the options given and so choose as though they should just be allowed to throw away lives for it.

There should not be a need for expansion on the idea in the first place let alone more that a single sentence that is just " I as a victim of this problem wants you to NOT directly contribute to it" And yet somehow that in itself is a hot take. Individuals who are currently being victimized by the systems at hand are in fact according to a lot of people I've seen here online, You know as a disabled queer person who literally cannot physically or safely leave my home cuz again it's a toss-up between either A: passing or B: breathing,at fault for that accordingly because they just chose to or cuz They haven't picked themselves up by their bootstraps but this weird stupid online left is rebranding of that phrase which is basically just that but trying to admonish the person for daring to not protest because they physically can't I've seen it seriously just dead up people actually getting mad at like wheelchair batting people for not doing shit it's literally just what's going on in the government being rebranded. Everything at the end of the day that is telling you that you shouldn't vote for the option of the two that can be chosen that will actively not make things worse is purity culture. You cannot have perfection if you can't have anything at all let alone should you try to choose the actively worst possible option because the other options, which by comparison are still intensely more good than that one worst option simply because none of the options are inherently perfect and fit every single concept and purview you personally want. One of these people wants more death the other third party group of people agree with that guy and then the other other two people don't she actively doesn't because she doesn't you know blindly hate things that look different from her for the sake of things looking different from her she's very much not good she needs to very much fix things immediately but hey wild fucking concept you should not have the perfect thing because that's not a real thing and blindly deciding against no choice at all because you don't have exactly what you want is the most childish fucking thing you could ever do it's such a weird thing to say but it's true it's fucking childish.

Cuz everyone knows that you only choose to be marginialised apparently. Like every single fucking argument against each way or whatever the fuck because that's what these arguments for a third party are are just AGAINST mutual aid at this point. we can say that objectively these arguments against mutual aid are actively just admonishing the people who are directly at only victims for the sake of " You're not capable of contributing to what I feel is important right now so that means you should just sit by the wayside and die while I posture about this without actually doing any of the options that you, a person also directly affected by these problems who I will pretend to care about yet actively tell you you aren't a part of it and shouldn't have a say and it cuz your inconveniently an example of how my "stalwart, perfect attempt saving of you" was not that which means YOU'RE bad. how dare YOU. only because I choose as such did they tell you how I'm an ally but I'm not going to do anything to help you but I'm your Ally definitely, But I'm just going to need you to sit and actually tell me anything of what to do because how dare you you don't have the ability to do these things you shouldn't have a say in that that's how that works and also I need you to keep staying there and we're going to point this giant fucking laser at your head and we're not going to move it no matter what it's going to sit there and if you get too uppity about not wanting to die we'll just let you die anyway".

Because you personally feel outside of the literal fact of the situation around you that you don't have power so just throw away the power you DO have to the people who want that power for the sake of doing the things you feel your powerless against to begin with.

Not being too mean I'm not being uncaring I'm being scared and angry at the people who had the ability to do fucking anything to help the communities have a part of who did nothing and are now sitting here daring to tell us about how dare we didn't do anything with our time? Because online leftists only care about looking right not beating right as it's turning out. Crazily enough one option is really bad the other option once bad things do but doesn't want the literal worst adject possible thing to Adam. I know it's fucking crazy but like when one thing is less than the other even though they are both bad things one being less than the other means that that thing is less than the other thing. I don't know how the fuck that gotness too but weirdly enough no. Just because both things are bad does not mean that one of them is not objectively worse is not in a way that is incomparable to the other objectively worse.

All of this is basically just an idiotic, myopic, self-destructive concept that just is " Well I mean we don't have the end result right now at the middle of the process so we might as well just throw the fucking pottery out the window right"

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

How do you think the M6 would react to a lying MC? Whether it’s to them or some one else is up to you or how extreme the lie is. Thank you, Arcana Headcannon Jesus <3

The Arcana HCs: M6 and the lies MC tries to tell them

~ oh boy, i did not expect being called Arcana Headcannon Jesus to hit my religious trauma like that, that was a vibe check lol

considering how in the stories MC tends to omit the truth at worst and be painfully blunt at best, i'm going to write them as a terrible liar just as a personal design choice. and also because it makes me laugh. thanks for the prompt, anon, i hope it makes you smile! - brainrot ~

Julian

You can totally read his handwriting

You love it when he writes you love letters, they warm your heart, but truthfully you can only make out maybe a quarter of the words on the page

But you can't tell him that because you don't want him to feel like all that beautiful poetry went to waste

At least you think it was poetry

You're running some errands, does he need anything?

Ah, a list of obscure medical devices. Which may or may not be available. And he wrote it down for you, how sweet!

You're so busy trying to decipher the ink blotches that you don't notice his smirk

He totally believes you can read his writing, and all the words on the paper are totally not made up medical jargon

He never says anything because he lives for the moment he can bend over your shoulder and murmur the words he wrote into your quickly reddening ear

Asra

You don't mind the questionable objects they bring into the shop without warning at all

Nope, not the bidet-shaped flamethrower

Or the screeching rattle he replaced the shop's front door bell with that makes every incoming customer jump

Or their favorite painting containing colors that the human eye was not intended to see, prominently hung on your kitchen wall

Or the jar of kool-aid pickled garlic, which he still can't open even though it's been slowly emitting a toxic stench for the last month, and which he refuses to part with because he hasn't been able to try it yet

They love you, but they love pranking you too, and seeing your reactions makes them giggle

He would never cause you any harm though

Which is why their collection of poison spitting cacti stays in a pocket realm, next to the void that wouldn't stop teaching the stove salamander explosive curse words

Nadia

You know royal etiquette like it's second nature

You know all the titles there are, you never get things like pontifex and praetor and procurator mixed up

The table place settings make total sense, who wouldn't use a slightly different type of fork to eat every kind of dish?

And nothing entertains you more than petty politics, nothing at all

In fact, you don't even find Nadia's highly accomplished family remotely intimidating

They're perfectly normal people, just like you, and you are just like them, every move is graceful and your clothes are always pristine

Nadia adores your spirited approach and will happily move purposefully slowly at the dinner table so you know which fork to grab and how to eat the complicated dishes that get served

According to her, you know what you're doing better than anyone else does

Muriel

You can reach and lift anything he can, no problem

You just need a little more time, but you'll get it

You can get the fallen tree split up for firewood and carted into storage, no biggie

Okay so the sun is setting now and you started before lunch and it never takes him longer than half an hour, but you took a lot of breaks okay

But if he wants to spend time with you that badly, he can help a little

Now you just need to lift those bowls down to eat, you've got this, you're a good climber

You never develop any suspicions around why daily necessities always end up on the top shelves, or why Muriel is so open to you helping with outside chores

He likes being needed

The face you make when you're frustrated is adorable

And he loves that you will never admit it

Portia

Please, you can absolutely keep up with her energy levels

Walking to the palace to get a shopping list

And trekking down into the city and through the floating market, the center marketplace, and the south end market to get everything

All to climb back up countless stairs with all your purchases

And walk through all the hallways to give everything to the multitude of requesters

And then back to the cottage for the evening

So you can cook the big evening meal and sweep and mop the floors and spend a few hours weeding the garden

And then all the way back out to the Rowdy Raven for a night of drinking and dancing

And then all the way back home so you can go to bed

She never pressures you to join her, but she always invites you

Hey, she likes spending time with you and you're cute when you're flushed

Lucio

You believe all his tall tales, they're so realistic

Dove to the depths of the ocean and defeated a giant minnow? Totally

Took out a thousand trained killers with one swipe of his mighty gauntlet? Mmmhm

Climbed to the top of the highest mountain to pluck some stars from the sky, which is how he got these diamonds? Of course

He can go days without eating or drinking and never crave sustenance? That tracks, he doesn't have a gluttonous bone in his body

He knows he can be narcissistic sometimes, but he's not *that* delusional

But he likes seeing your little smile as you indulge his fantasies, because you do it out of love and not mockery

And maybe he likes pretending just for a minute that what he's saying is true

[thenamesmobu]

What’s into the code au?

The Into the Code AU is my interpertation of The Stanley Parable

(Although it has been teetering to become its own storyline at this point).

So the premise of the AU is that it takes place in a byproduct dimension after the creation of the internet. From how vast and fast the internet is growing since its creation, it created a new plane of existence that's separate from our reality. From there, a lot, and I mean a lot of things would occur. Such as space and time-breaking rifts, two separate voids that work differently from each other, new living "organisms", and a substance that can be compared to radiactive energy; the Codes.

More info down below if you or anyone is curious. I am legit, actually, finally spilling the beans of my AU here.

⬇️⬇️⬇️

The Code Void

The Codes is the non-biological substance that comes along with one of the voids, the Code Void. Although, it's a "chicken or egg first?" situation between those two, as it's unclear which came first than the other. Either way, this void is chaotic, time and space clash onto one another, creating a void that is similar to a dark, static-y TV. (Time and space are prevalent in this void, as anyone can use the internet at anytime and anywhere, this actually contributes to expand this void.)

The Code Void is best to not be seen with the naked eye to someone who can't handle processing an abundance of unfiltered knowledge. In a worst case scenario, this would inevitably cause death, as the person witnessing the Codes would dissolve into Codes themselves. The Codes is also where my TSP cast get their source of energy from as the Codes can be bended and molded if done safely and accordingly. Also this is where my interp of Crows×3 live in, so yeah.

The White Void

There's a particular part of the Code Void that was somehow not affected by the expansion of it. This place is known as the White Void, the void where my TSP cast resides in, also known as The Parable. The White Void sounds what it seems, just a white void. But this place works similarly to a blank canvas, it can be "painted" by whoever the person putting effort into putting things in it. The White Void cannot be expand, nor can it shrink, it remains completely the same, regardless from the passage of time or the changing of space. Now due to this, the Code Void can't expand itself to absorb the White Void. However, the White Void has this "ability" to erase whatever or whoever's within it if the object or a person that's been specifically intertwined with the Codes isn't stimulated enough.

I'll get to the characters and the other aspects soon, I promise. But here is the info for now🗣🗣🗣

It is nighttime as I am writing this and I am a quarter sleepy. So I'm sorry if my writing seems kinda off with a few typos here and there

To be continued...

[blackholemojis]

(not a request)

Hai! As someone trying to experiment with AACs, I can't find an optimal and conveniently organized word list, can you please share any tips for that?

Unfortunately I've had the same problem when trying to make my own AAC boards, as well as with running this blog. There are some general essentials though, I've made some of them and tagged them with #blackholemojis basics, if you want to look through those.

Other than that, I can really only share the types of words I put into my own AAC boards first. I haven't found a convenient and well organized word list anywhere :(

Under the cut though I'll put a lot more words you could include in your AAC, if you want to check that out! I'll update it as I think of more

Basic words

Yes, no, maybe, I don't know, something else, probably, stop, go, I consent, I don't consent

What, when, who, where, why, how

Good, bad, better, worse, best, worst, same, different, alright

Basic activities of daily living

Hygiene: bathe, clean teeth, style hair, wash face, etc

Dressing: get dressed, get undressed, clothing, tops, bottoms

Eating: eat, drink, swallow, chew, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack

Bathroom: use the bathroom, pee, poop, wipe off, wash hands

Transferring/mobility: walk, stand up, sit down, lay down, transfer to mobility aid, transfer out of mobility aid

Instrumental activities of daily living

Communication: speak, text/message, computer, phone, email, video call, write, call

Transportation: picked up, dropped off, drive, ride, bike, walk, take the bus, take the train, carpool

Meal prep: cook, bake, heat up, prepare food, plan meals, clean up kitchen, put away food

Shopping/finances: shop, buy, sell, donate, pay, write a check, manage balance, wallet, bank account, make a deposit, budget, pay bills, pay insurance, pay mortgage

Housework: do laundry, do dishes, dust, vacuum, sweep, mop, clean, fold, organize, take out the garbage

Medication: take meds, refill meds, order meds refill

Short words

Hello, goodbye, please, thank you, you're welcome, sorry, I forgive you

Do, don't, done, did, will, won't, could, can, can't, should, shouldn't, is, isn't, was, wasn't, were, weren't, want, like, dislike,

Now, later, soon, earlier, today, tomorrow, yesterday

And, a, an, the, or, which, if, so, then, because

Leave, come, walk, run, give, take, throw, catch, move, stay, find, lose, say, mean, think, let, need, want, help, belong, start, finish

I/me/myself, mine, you/yours/yourself, this person, she/her/hers, he/him/his, they/them/theirs, it/its/itself

Essential activities

Eat, sleep, wake up, use the bathroom, drink

Major senses

See, touch, taste, smell, hear, sense, feel

Places

Home, work, school, house, apartment, trailer, park, grocery store, clothing store, daycare, college, religious center

Health

Sick/ill, fever, nauseous, stuffy nose, runny nose

Scratch, burn, cut, bruise, broken bone, concussion

Hospital, doctor's office, dentist's office

Any other specific conditions or symptoms you have, physically or mentally

Any mobility aids you use

Other descriptor groups

Colors, temperature, size, amount, directions/location, time, body parts, family/friend names, relations (grandma, neighbor), emotions, pets, objects/belongings, weather

[lovesickdeadsims]

After losing Rory Oakley in my Santino Legacy I decided I needed a new legacy challenge, this time with precise objectives and a clean storyline. I know there are already many legacy challenges around the web, but since I don’t own all the packs, I needed something more personal. So here is PART 1 of my own Lovesick Legacy Challenge!

GEN 1- The Scrooge (BG friendly)

You live in a poor, old house with your only parent, who didn’t want you in the first place. As your parent spend the day watching tv and lazying around the house, you must provide to them and yourself as you can. You spend your childhood doing chores and selling what you can find in the wild. You study hard because somehow you understand that if you don’t want to end like that useless parent of yours you must be successful in life. You hate your parent and yet you can’t help yourself but to feel some pity towards them. That’s why you never abandon them, even when you reach adulthood. You know that without you they would be lost... Eventually you find love (something you never really thought about before) in the workplace; and eventually your parent dies and you are finally able to go on with your life. Finally you can give your child everything you never had! 

Beginning:

You will create a household made of one child and their parent (can be a mother or a father). 

The parent must have Lazy, Hates Children and Snob as traits; aspiration doesn’t matter. The child can have any trait and aspiration you want.

You will start the challenge in lot of your choice, but with the worst objects possible in game (worst shower, worst, sink, etc...). The family will start with 0 Simoleons after it is transferred in the lot and the house is built.

You will play only as the child of the family. Never as the parent!

Once a teen, you must add the trait Materialistic and you can choose between the Fabulously Wealthy or Mansion Baron aspiration.

Objectives:

Become the sole source of income in the family. As a child you can choose to sell what you find in the wild or what you make, you can make videos or invent what you want, the important thing is that throughout your childhood and teen years your jobless parent must remain... jobless.

You must end high school with honors or best grades.

Renovate the house when you have enough money to do so. You can also upgrade when you have time.

If you have DISCOVER UNIVERSITY: You can only apply to the University of Britechester and take the Business Major.

You can’t move out once you finish high school (that means you can’t move into a dorm). You must stay in the lot until your parent dies (no cheats allowed to make them die) of *natural* cause.

As you become a young adult choose the Ambitious trait.

 You must work in the business career once you graduate (or once you become a ya).

Never have a relationship before your employment

You must marry a coworker (you are allowed to create one just for this purpose).

Have only one child.

Have at least 50.000 Simoleon by the birth of your heir.

GEN 2- The Brat (BG friendly)

Your parents gave you everything you ever wanted. You had a golden childhood, full of toys, friends and glee. You couldn’t have been happier, really... except you grew bored of all of it. And eventually you started rebelling your parents’ unwelcomed attentions and love. Life gave you more, but you wanted... something different. You start a band with your friends and run away from home as a teen (*cough* stealing your parents’ money *cough*), living with them in total anarchy. You and your band get into fights and literally scare the hell out of everyone, and that’s how you like it! You are free to express yourself through your music and decide that this is your path! In your adulthood years you pursue the musical career, but the band dismembers, your friend fall out of love with music and move out. Well, except for one. And you know that this one is special, because you keep talking about having a family together, one day. Despite coming from riches already, you end up being a big star and live in a big mansion with your partner and kid(s). 

Objectives:

Play only as “The Brat” once they age into a child.

As a child you can start with any trait you want, but the aspiration must be Artistic Prodigy.

Complete the aspiration before turning into a teen.

You must be friends with two other children and also have a child best friend.

Your teen must have the Music Lover trait.

Once you become a teen you must leave your household and live into any lot of your choice (as long as you can afford it) with your friends, but they must have aged up to teens (you are allowed to modify them in CAS through cheat). 

When you move out you can’t take more than half of their parents’ money.

Start a band with your mates! If you have GET TOGETHER you may start a club with them), they must play an instrument of your choice (there can be the same instruments in band, it doesn’t matter).

When your mates become young adults move them out and keep the one you have the closest relationship with.

When you become a young adult choose the Musical Genius Aspiration and enter the Entertainer career and become a Musician. You may choose the same path for your partner or a different one.

Write at least 10 songs of the genre you prefer.

Live in a lot bigger than 30x20. If you already live in that lot from your teenager years, you may stay there.

If you have GET FAMOUS: become a Proper Celebrity.

You must complete your aspiration before the next gen becomes a child.

You must reach level 9 of the Musician career before your next gen becomes a child.

You must have at least one child (you allowed to adopt them, but only as toddlers).

GEN 3- The Chad (BG friendly)

Your parents are famous, like big stars. They live the fairy tale life, they love each other, have fun together and they built their own success. But you... you are quite the opposite. You are geeky, dorky, nerdy... just plain weird! You like videogames, collect figurines and dislike any physical activity. Your school years pass with a bully on your back and you just wish you could be as cool as the rest of you family. Eventually you become an adult, and you decide you have enough! You change your life upside down: you start eating healthy, you go to the gym... you want to be as cool as it gets! And when you start seeing the results you also start dating! You are not choosy with your partners, you just want to have fun as much as possible. You become a Woohoo master and even decide to make the ultimate conquest: seducing your high school bully.  This becomes your obsession. You remember all the pain you went through in school and want to ruin your enemy/lover’s life! You marry them and fake true love, you even have a child together. But then you betray them, divorce them and take the kid from them! This is your ultimate revenge.

Objectives:

As a child choose the Whiz Kid aspiration and choose the Genius trait. You must complete your aspiration before becoming a teen.

Collect at least 5 different Mysims trophies throughout your childhood and teen years.

You must have a bad relationship with another child.

You must avoid developing your Fitness skill through all you childhood and teen years.

When you become a teen, choose the Geek trait.

Become enemies with the sim you have a bad relationship with. They also must be aged to teen.

As a teen choose the aspiration Computer Whiz. You must complete it in your young adult years, before becoming an adult.

When you become a young adult, choose the Romantic trait and enter the Tech Guru career.

Start doing fitness as a young adult and reach at least level 5.

Once you have completed the Computer Whiz aspiration, you must choose the Serial Romantic.

When you have woohoo’d at least three sims you must reach out to your enemy, better your relationship with them and marry them in an official wedding event.

Have only one baby together.

When your baby becomes a child you must divorce your spouse by cheating in front of them and move out with your child into another world. You must take all the money (and eventual pets) too.

GEN 4- The Photographer (BG friendly)

You are one of the many “child of divorce”. The parent you are living with talks often with hate of the parent you both left behind. You were never allowed to visit them and never heard from them ever again. If only you had a photo of them to remember those few moments together you could put your mind at ease... You grow up angry and alone. You find it hard to trust people, and even though you enter a relationship in high school it just doesn’t work. You don’t believe in love. You take up photography as a hobby and think about making a career out of it, but somehow you miss the drive and ambition to do anything. You still manage to make some bucks selling some pictures you took of sunsets, dawns and landscapes. You even afford to make an exhibition in your local museum of arts. And at that exhibition you meet a person that makes you feel... less lonely. They make you feel confident, they are trustworthy, faithful. Somehow you know they will never hurt you, especially not like your parents have hurt each other. Finally you move in together. You take photos of your partner whenever you can, they are your muse. You make a blog and upload the pictures and you become somewhat popular. Surprisingly you are happy! You start to believe it’s possible to have a happy family and you start wanting children.

Objectives:

As a child you must have the Loner trait.

You may choose any child aspiration, except for Social Butterfly.

You can start taking photos with your phone as a child. You cannot own a camera before becoming a teen.

You must not have any friends before becoming a teen.

When you turn into a teen you must choose the Soulmate aspiration.

You must have one relationship as a teen and go to only one date with your new boyfriend/girlfriend.

Once you become a young adult you must break up with your current partner.

You must max the Photography skill between your teen and young adult years.

Take a picture in every world in your game with a camera (they can’t be selfies).

Make an exhibition of at least 5 of your best quality photos in the local Museum (an idea is to hang them in a room in your lot, save the room and then load it when you go into build/buy in the Museum you choose). Quality of the photos must be higher than “Normal”.

Hang in the Museum until you find someone with the Loyal trait. They will be your future spouse (you can create them for this purpose but they must meet in the Museum).

Once you have started dating the Loyal Sim, you can move in with them, or move both into a new lot in a world of your choice.

You must have at least three children.

Complete the Soulmate aspiration before having your second child. If you have PARENTHOOD you can choose as a new aspiration Super parent.

GEN 5- The Occultist (Vampires GP required) 

You grew up in a numerous, loud family. You parents adored each other, your siblings were pests (but you loved them) and you were a healthy, happy child. Indeed you had a pretty normal, regular childhood. Very normal. Too normal, in your opinion. You spend your time escaping reality through fantasy books, comics, tv series etc. You become a fan of the occult, reading books about vampire lore, researching online, buying dark stuff from the web! Witches, vampires, mermaids, werewolves, aliens... You know they exist and you are gonna prove it! When you finish high school you embark on a journey to a mysterious town called Forgotten Hollow, were you intend to stay there for a couple weeks... you know, for research! One day, or actually, one night you meet a handsome stranger in a bar. You don’t let the opportunity escape you and flirt with them all time, asking to spend the rest of the night at your house. Unfortunately (or luckily) said handsome stranger is a true vampire, as you discover after letting them drink your blood. From then on your only desire is becoming a vampire! You change your hair, the way you dress, your entire house just to at least look like a vampire. But only the “stranger” can turn you into one. And when they finally do it you feel such a rush at your new immortal state that you might even try to become a Master Vampire!

Objectives:

As a child you must choose the Bookworm trait. You may choose an aspiration of your choice.

Always dress in a very basic way all your life.

Be good friends with your parents and siblings until you move out.

Read at least 5 books as a child (preferibly fantasy or thriller).

Make your parents throw an Incognito Costume Party at your birthday (from child to teen, and from teen to young adult). If you have SPOOKY STUFF make your parents throw you a Spooky Party. If you only have SEASONS, create a holiday the day of your birthday and make it spooky themed!

When you age to teen choose the Master Vampire aspiration.

Do reasearch online and read books about vampires to reach level level 10 of the Vampire Lore skill.

Once you age to young adult move to Forgotten Hollow and build a very basic looking house.

Go into different bars of your world at night to meet a "handsome vampire stranger”. Once you met them befriend them and invite them at your house. You may have wooho with them the same night if you want (and if they do let them drink from you).

For the “handsome vampire stranger” you may use one of the VAMPIRES sims (Vlad, Caleb or Lilith) or create one yourself and add them to the world. However they must have the “Vampire Creation” power to be able to turn you.

You may let your “handsome vampire stranger” move in with you if you want.

Change your entire aesthetic to a very gothic/dark one. This includes your hair, eventual makeup, clothes and even your entire house.

Convince your “handsome vampire stranger” to turn you into a vampire.

Complete the Master Vampire aspiration, max the Vampire Lore skill and have at least one baby with your “handsome vampire stranger”.

Read part 2 here

[rederiswrites]

I wish I lived somewhere else. Pretty much any other country, or even pretty much any other city would be better

Look, uh, I'm sorry you feel this way, but for starters, this isn't a question. And second, it almost certainly isn't objectively true. Even if you could objectively determine the worst place in the world to live, statistically you almost certainly don't live there. And you can't, anyway, because people have different priorities. I, for example, would find living on Svalbard hellish, but there's a Youtuber I sometimes watch who clearly loves it. I can see what she loves about it, but I cannot stand outside in my pajamas in temperatures far below freezing as she does, and so for me the cons substantially outweight the pros.

My husband, who has a way of making everything seem simple, saw this, and his take was this: "So make a plan, and move. Figure out what matters to you and what you're looking for, and make a plan. It can be long-term, but make the plan and stick to it."

It's simplistic but it's not wrong. Have a clear understanding about what you don't like, specifically, and break that down. The smaller the pieces you can break it down into, the more likely that you can actually do something about part of it.

We actually did this once. We lived in the city, we hated it, we said, "We're going to leave by fall" even though we had no idea how we'd do that, and then we did. Now, we had a lot of agency, in the form of money and no one controlling us, but we still took risks and worked hard. If you are, for example, financially dependent or a minor, those are things you'll have to deal with first, and sadly, the only thing that cures being a minor is time. But ultimately you'll be a minor for a pretty small fraction of your life, so work on the long perspective as much as you can.

Me, I'm just going to repeat that this isn't really a rational belief, and so part of you working on this is going to be working on why you believe something irrational. That's not a judgement on you, to be clear. It's actual advice.

[lunar-years]

I could possibly have stomached James being back and forgiven apparently, if it wasn't for the casually dropped in statutory rape, what on earth?? The writers were probably trucking along with their "everyone deserves forgiveness" train, meanwhile anyone with a jot of common sense had air raid sirens screaming "DO NOT LET THAT MAN NEAR JAMIE". I'd have been angry with the forgiveness side anyway (we see no signs that James is trying to be a better person or even that hes not going to try and beat the shit out of his son again, for all we know thats a court mandated rehab), but I could have sort of understood it. Adding in that fun little fact made James go from terrible horrific abuser to just completely unforgiveable.

honestly i completely agree with you. I know this is a very divisive arc and there were people who genuinely loved where they took it because it resonated with them in some way, especially for some people who have been through similar experiences and appreciated the recognition that someone like James could successfully change. I really try to accept and understand fans who have that opinion and I want to be very clear that I both recognize addiction is a disease and think there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to or actually forgiving your abuser. Each situation is different! People suffering from addiction can absolutely recover! Individuals need to do what is right for them in their real actual lives, etc.

That said, the parts I loathe about the Jamie & James arc, from my own personal opinion, are:

any sort of relationship Jamie and James may have moving forward post-canon is inherently a complex one, but the writers did not address the conclusion of the arc complexly. At all. Instead it was "oh everything conveniently worked out and here they are happy and together" wrapped up in a 10 second flash-forward which is just...no.

there is absolutely no evidence that James' violence stems directly from his addiction. there is nothing to say a sober James isn't every bit as abusive as a drunken James. There is no indication that Jamie isn't putting himself back into a situation that is downright unsafe, or that he isn't at risk of coming into harm and being deeply hurt all over again. there is nothing to say James hasn't tried rehab before, and relapsed.

James never apologizes or owns up to his actions onscreen.

Jamie's decision to forgive his dad comes at a time when he's in a very vulnerable place mentally, having just come off a canonical depressive episode. He consults no one about forgiving his father apart from Ted, who is quite literally the worst person on the show he could have consulted (no offense, Ted, it's just that the man is incapable of being objective when it comes to Jamie and the father&son of it all). The decision isn't being made in a healthy state of mind and Jamie hasn't rallied a support group around him before taking the leap. From what we see on screen, he seemingly doesn't tell anyone that he's going to visit his dad in rehab.

there's a way that all of this can make sense. I can make sense of why Ted, with his own heaping helping of daddy issues, would give Jamie the advice he does. I can see why Jamie (again, in a vulnerable place) would take it! why he decides the right thing to do is to reach out to his dad! I can see him going to visit. I can imagine that visit going well or going poorly, can see James' stint in rehab being mandated, or also him checking himself it. But at the end of the day, those scenarios are all imagined! none of that nuanced context is provided on the show. Rather, the presentation and messaging are hasty and in my person opinion, flat-out dangerous. They lead the casual viewer to read Ted's advice as good (it categorically isn't), and Jamie as Doing the Right and Responsible Thing, when it's a hell of a lot more complicated that that.

it is also weird and complicated to have Jamie take Ted's advice over his mum's, who in the same episode, mind you, told him James was never ever going to change. again, we can jump through hoops to make sense of it, but we shouldn't have to.

there's absolutely a pattern of abuse being weirdly minimized on ted lasso/victims forgiving their abusers and i think that's gross. you can't claim to be a comedy show that dares to tackle real, tough issues in one breath and then expect us to laugh off abuse (Jane/Beard) in the next. Sometimes it's like they change what kind of show they want to be scene by scene, lol.

as you point out, in my opinion it is completely batshit on the writer's part to have introduced "btw Jamie's dad, who we've previously established beats him and verbally abuses him, ALSO proxy raped him when he was 14!" in the same season in which you plan to have Jamie forgive said father (with next to no buildup or context) just a few episodes later. Like, yes, let's add even deeper layers to Jamie's tragic backstory before we wash it away in feel-good reunion tosh! just, ew. what on earth were they thinking.

So all in all, I think the arc could have been successful if the writers had known where they were going with it from the beginning of the season and given it the kind of care that sort of storyline demands. However they didn't do that, and the end message is incredibly harmful as a result.

[ltbarnes]

Anachronism - Part II

Or the placing of persons, events, objects, or customs in times to which they do not belong

Summary: Sprained ankles, snowstorms, blood-thirsty wolves and feral super soldiers. What was supposed to be a peaceful walk in the woods surrounding the cabin you're staying in with your best friend Steve quickly turns devastating, forcing your path to cross with the mysterious and burly man who can't seem to grasp social cues and the concept of privacy. His past is a puzzle that can't seem to be solved and your feelings for the sweet and giant man quickly develop from friendly gratitude to something neither of you can't quite grasp.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: a little bit of nudity and some sinful thoughts, bears!!, manhandling, Steve panicking and Bucky being the sweetest

A/N: I made it!! Never thought I would be able to finish part 2 in time but it’s done!! The love on the first part has been amazing and please give me any and all thoughts on this part <3 I love talking with you!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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You had been gone for six hours by the time a barely functional Steve ventured out to search for you a second time.

15 minutes. That's how long you said you would be out, and Steve started glancing out of the window for you already after 13 to see if you were back.

And he tried to go out and search just half an hour after you left, but even for a super soldier a harsh snowstorm like this one is impossible to navigate in. His phone service was not working and contacting the compound was futile—they can't do anything as long as the weather is this bad.

He's fucking panicking. You're probably out here freezing to death if you already haven't. Leaving you to die like that is no option. For twenty hazy minutes Steve gathered anything that might be needed if he finds you half-alive in some ditch—warm water bottle, blanket, food, tracking device if Sam or Nat or anyone in the team feels like helping him some time.

Steve knew he shouldn't have let you go. He felt it this morning when he watched you walk out of the door with those ridiculously large mittens and the puffer jacket that could soften a fall from fifty feet high. But god, he can't say no to you even though he persisted for more than an hour in your argument. A flutter with those eyes of yours and he folds quicker than he can take another breath.

He's Captain America—a man who survived a world war, alien attacks, robots trying to take over the world and countless fights with the world's most notorious villains. He prides himself on having integrity equally strong as his vibranium shield and morals practically written in stone. Steve Rogers is an unmovable man and still he just throws away all logic and sense out of the window as long as you have a smile on your face.

His chest is heaving, out of breath. It doesn't happen a lot anymore now that his days of being an asthmatic, 90-pound sick man are long past him. You manage to make his goddamn body malfunction in a different way each time he meets you—today just happened to be the worst he's ever experienced. If you died like this while he sat inside looking over fucking sketches over the compound grounds he's not going to be able to live with himself much longer.

For so many years he's been able to keep you out of situations too dangerous for your own good. It's hard sometimes when you prance out in traffic without looking both ways or take shortcuts through alleyways on the way home from work in the middle of the night, but Steve's still been able to keep you safe. He has been there each time.

God, you fucking infuriate him. Sometimes he wants to throw you over his shoulder and lock you inside some closet where you can't get up to any trouble. Trying to negotiate your way out of being shot by a madman robber by offering him fucking cookies? Yeah, Steve was furious that day, but he adores you for it. Don't get him wrong—you're not some sunshine fairy girl like that teacher with glasses and colorful dresses in the sitcom you always watch, but still you offered a man with a gun to your head cookies. You barely even bake.

Honestly, Steve was annoyed by you for a whole two years before you slithered your way into his traumatized and lost heart. The 21st century is a labyrinth of parasocial relationships, too advanced technology and so much suffering existing along the endless progress that's been made since the 40's.

It all was just too much for him for a good while, and his range of emotions kind of just shut down. Work was all he had and the closest thing to a friend was Natasha, who he did not know at all at the time. Tony was a goddamn asshole and Fury was too vague and Steve was missing Bucky, Peggy and the Howlies so much that all woken time was either spent on grieving or fighting.

You were the first close friend he made in this century. One who he could spend entire nights talking to, and took him out on midnight pizza runs and showed him what the hell streaming was. A friend who showed him that things are better now in many ways.

But he knows now why Bucky was so goddamn irritated at him all the time—you aren't even throwing yourself into fights like he did, and still do, but instead manage to be so goddamn clueless and intelligent at the same time. And he doesn't want to find you stubbing your toe on the same treshold at least once a week as amusing as he does. Or that he looks forward to Monday meetings because he gets to walk past your little office, stacked with strange romance books you can read when Tony doesn't need help in the lab or Bruce has no samples to be incubated or whatever he does.

For a long time you were the only one he missed when he was gone on missions for weeks. Now the team is as much family as his real one ever was, and he loves them too, but you're still the first person that comes to mind when he drags himself half-alive and beaten to a pulp onto the quinjet after a gruesome fight.

Mostly he likes that you don't really need him. In reality you do so wonderfully fine by yourself, without anyone, and Steve loves your independence. He just seemingly likes worrying and fuzzing like a mother hen because he can. Because you let him.

You do stupid things sometimes and for those situations you really do need someone to either pull you away from the moving car heading towards you or scold you for being reckless, but you could live on a reclusive island entirely alone and wouldn't mind in the least. Maybe it's because Steve always wanted that quiet life—settling down in a house he built himself with a person he loves somewhere people won't bother him.

The snow is goddamn insatiable with working against him as he tries to find his way just a few feet away from the cabin. But he's been through worse and Steve would gladly cut off all his limbs and bathe in scolding lava to find you alive.

To hell with snowstorms and duties and work—he's going to find his best girl even if it makes a 100-year old super soldier hypothermic.

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Your bladder is about to fucking burst.

For what must have been half an hour you've been laying awake to the sound of Winter's breathing, contemplating wether to go outside and potentially wake him up or just die.

But he's holding onto you so tightly, squeezing you to his chest with his nose buried in the crook of your neck, that you contemplate just holding it until he wakes. You feel like a stuffed animal he can't fall asleep without, the way Winter has tangled himself up in your limbs.

It makes you realize that you haven't felt closeness from a human like this in years. Maybe ever. You've never seen yourself as touch-starved but receiving such affection without any conditions or terms triggered some epiphany inside of you—you want to be held.

But ultimately, despite how heartbreaking it is, you are not willing to lay your life and dignity down for his and your own comfort in this moment.

The first movements of your newly awoken body generate cracking sounds that are a little too loud to not be concerned about. Good morning.

Somehow, in a manner you did not know you possessed, you slide out from his hold down onto the cold wooden floor without waking him up. You would've guessed he was a light sleeper.

A soft, breathy whine escapes his lips. You have to silence yourself with the palm of your hand to not laugh. Also desperately hoping that it's the loss of you on top of him that makes him upset in his sleep and not just the sudden lack of warmth.

His hair has been matted and tangled during the night, stray strands swept over his face, and he still he looks so good. You sit there on the floor staring at him for a good minute before you try to crawl away, struggling into your thermal pants and socks with a few silent curses slipping from your mouth.

If you're honest, you thought your foot would be fine by now. You clearly remember thinking to yourself that it would be over in five minutes when you fell. It's been a day and it's still swollen and hurting like a bitch—crawling to the door is the only way, though undignified.

You kind of miss being carried around while trying to haul yourself up to a stand with the help of the doorway. And you're also thinking about how Tony would have this picture printed and framed if he had a camera in his hand right now.

Outside it's still snowing, and the moderate layer of white, shimmering crystals covering the ground has grown to being outrageous during the night. It reaches up to your knees as you shuffle out just a short distance from the porch.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why am I doing this? Goddamn shit, ow," you whisper to yourself while trying to go about this in a dignified way that won't permanently disable you. "Ah. So cold. So cold."

And you're so hungry and tired and also might cry soon if things don't get better. Have you always been this sensitive? It feels like you're not. Circumstancial changes to your personality, hopefully.

Three days ago you were playing chess against Bruce in his lab while waiting for an analysis to process—that was, up until then, the most aggravating and complicated quest you had ever taken upon yourself (mainly because you do not know how to play chess). Right now you're peeing half-naked with snow up to your knees and a sprained ankle outside of a stranger's house who is most likely some kind of supernatural man and also very handsome. Is it weird that you're attracted to him?

Despite the rugged lumberjack-Tarzan type sleeping twenty feet away, you have a hard time seeing the silver lining in your misery. You're stuck and probably proclaimed dead. If you were a more positive person this could be counted as adventure time and great storytelling-material in the future—autobiography material, really. New York Times Bestseller List if you write it good.

But you're scared. You don't really know where you are and Steve might be out there looking for you. Yes, he is a super soldier, but it's not safe wading through a snowstorm without proper gear and knowledge. Steve can get cold too, despite how much he denies the slight shivers you've seen him develop during freezing walks in the winter. God knows he might wander off in the wrong direction and give himself hypothermia. Also a panic attack because this has to give him flashbacks to his time in the ice, right? Nightmares about being frozen solid like a popsicle?

By the time your teeth has since long started chattering, and you struggle to get up the zipper of your pants with your stiff fingers, a rustle in the trees surrounding the grounds forces you out of your daytime overthinking. The goosebumps on your skin instantly escalate to tiny mountains as you look around frantically for whatever threat is about to devour you.

Black fur emerges from between the branches, accompanied by a bark-like sound bordering on a happy chirp. You have to steady yourself to not fall over from shock as a bear cub wades through the snow, fuzzing up the powdery flakes as its dark coating slowly turns white from the steady snowfall.

Tears are dangerously close to being shed as you crouch down with your mouth agape. That was the last drop. A bear cub? Seriously? Sorting your thoughts through the big, blinking 'that is the cutest thing I have ever witnessed' is absolutely hindered by the fact that the bear is the cutest thing you have ever witnessed.

"Hi, baby," you say through a chuckle, stretching your hand out despite knowing that the bear could very well kill you. Because bear cubs are still dangerous, right? No?

It must be quite a few months old, if not a year, but the urge to hug it overpowers the underlying carefulness telling you to step away. Why did you ever think you had useful survival skills? A walking teddy bear comes into your sight and you abandon any reason.

The bear is hesitant as it catches sight of your figure, but it seems like the curiosity is stronger for it too. Slowly, and a bit clumsy, the cub makes its way through the deep snow until the wet nose nearly touches your fingers.

"Oh, you're so cute," you whisper with a blinding smile breaking through the chattering. "Where's your mother, huh? Have you gotten lost?"

It feels like maybe the soul of a tame cat has possessed this little bear as it latches on to your leg, paws embracing you with its nose snuggling into the stiff fabric. A shocked laugh escapes your lips as you gaze down at your new favorite being, possibly triumphing both Steve and Winter. Maybe it's too soon to decide wether or not Winter gets a place in your favorites category, but this one certainly does.

A shriek sounds through the air as your balance, which was compromised to begin with, falters and sends you to the ground with an especially hard nudge from the bear. Newly fallen snow wells up into the air as you hit the cold and soft layer with a thud, giggling like a little school girl as the bear releases a happy chirp.

"You want to play?" you ask, reaching your arms out while completely forgetting to be freezing cold like you should be. You didn't really have time to put on a jacket on top of your Henley before.

The bear pushes up snow with its nose, sending flakes into your face as if it splashes water jokingly. You throw some back, earning a shake of its fur to rid itself of the white formations.

But the door to the cabin is thrown open harshly, smashed against the wall, before you have any more time to resume your playtime. Winter barges out with his large and threatening build so tense that you fear he might pull a muscle. His eyes flicker over the scene, searching for your figure until he finds you half-buried in the deep snow with a bear hovering over you.

The panic is instant—you see it clearly from where you're craning your neck to catch sight of the sudden commotion. He's not wearing any shoes, but he runs out into the snow without hesitation anyways.

A growl sounds from his chest, puffing himself up to appear more threatening. For the first time you see the power he possesses—the real underlying danger inside of the man who has been so sweet to you these past 24 hours. But you're still not afraid of him.

"Wint—"

You begin calling out his name, try to explain that the bear wants you no harm, but the attempt is futile. Winter is fast, and before you can even say the whole of his name he has dragged you up from the ground with one arm while the bear fearfully runs away.

His hold is too tight for you to get a word out as he hastily brings you inside again, smashing the door shut and setting you down on the floor. This time he's careful of your foot, letting you hover just a few inches above the ground before slowly easing you down as to not lay any unnecessary weight on your ankle.

Winter's hands instantly find your face, eyes roaming over your body with frantic desperation.

"You—no hurt? Okay? Good?" he asks, tilting your chin up while inspecting the small patch of exposed skin on your neck.

His breathing is heavy. And you can understand what it looked like—he must've thought you were being mauled to death. Even though the bear was far from full grown they could still be dangerous, you think.

"I'm okay." You can't help but smile, despite it being a small one. "The bear just wanted to play. It was a really kind bear."

Winter furrows his brows into a frown, letting his gaze wander up to your face. A few seconds pass of him inspecting your expression, as if he's assessing wether or not you're sincere, before he lets out sigh.

A small pout grows on his face, drawing a giggle from your lips. He's cute like this.

"You were gone...so scared. Then I heard scream and saw bear," he tells you while shaking his head, tilted down towards the floor.

The smile on your face eases out into a sigh, hand instantly finding his forearm with a soft touch. "I'm sorry, Winter. I didn't want to wake you up and I had to pee. The bear just came out from between the trees and came up to me."

"But—no hurt?" he asks you once more.

You shake your head. "No. I'm completely fine. Just a little cold."

Winter lets out a puff of air from his nose. "Always so cold. All the time," he says, taking a step back from you to drag a chair out in front of you, before turning towards the fireplace.

"I am not. It just happens to be freezing outside and this cabin does not have any heat," you protest while sitting yourself down.

You watch as he reaches for the chopped wood stacked upon each other right beside the fireplace, throwing in a few more to feed the fire.

It crackles loudly, hypnotizing you for a few seconds before you start to feel the wet fabric clinging onto your skin.

"Do you have any other clothes?" you ask, arms encompassing yourself. "This shirt is all wet and cold from the snow."

Without any hesitation, he plucks his wine-red shirt off his back to reveal a tight, black long sleeve underneath. His right arm reaches the shirt out to you, meeting your doe-eyed gaze.

On a continuous roll, Winter has shown you kindness upon kindness ever since you woke up. It's all too much and you don't really know how to repay him. He's taken care of you so well, protected you and fed you and kept you warm and now given you his clothes. He barely even knows you.

With slight hesitance, you turn to the side and cling onto the hem of your shirt. You have to remind yourself that Winter probably won't mind if he sees you half-naked. He's already seen the bottom half of you in just underwear without having any significant reaction, so it'll be fine if he sees you in a bra too.

The collar gets stuck for a few seconds, and you struggle to get your head free for a good while. Gracious as ever. When you're exposed to the world again, you instantly feel the intense gaze of Winter on you.

His stare is zeroed in on your chest, the dark blue lace covering your breasts leaving little to the imagination when it comes to your nipples. No, you did not expect a single soul to witness your underwear on this trip while packing. But you kind of like dressing up for yourself a little bit too.

Winter parts his pink lips, drawn closer without even blinking. You sit there, gazing up at him while forgetting to take a breath. It's okay—he's just curious about the anatomical differences rather than the sexual aspect of it. You think.

"Touch...please," Winter murmurs as he stares at your breasts nearly spilling out of your bra.

And you have to suppress the sudden giggle that wants to escape. Winter looks like a kid staring at a lollipop, like he will burst any second if he can't inspect your fucking boobs.

"Ugh, they—soft. Look soft. Pretty," he whispers.

With a giggle you nod, giving him the okay to touch. You shiver now even before, despite feeling rather calm about it.

He uses his right hand to reach out. Ever since you flinched away from him that first time he's been hesitant to use his metal one while touching you, even though you don't mind. You have to tell him that.

"Never seen before—so soft. Oh."

His genuine excitement over having his hands on you draws a chuckle from your lips until he squeezes a little too hard.

"Be gentle. It hurts when you use too much force, okay?" you tell him.

He nods in answer, focus not straying from your breasts even once. He's mesmerized—he's never felt anything this pliable and cuddly on a person. In Hydra he only met rough men, consisting of hard muscle and rough handling. The entirety of you is just so soft.

"Off. Want away."

A tug at the strap of your bra paired with a wide-eyed gaze and pupils covering the entirety of his eyes signals that he'd be much happier without the offending fabric covering you. But you're not sure. It feels like a step too far.

Your fingers clasp softly around his, pushing them away from you gently. "Not today."

"Why?" he asks you with an expression bordering on a pout.

"Because I'm not comfortable with that. Do you remember when I explained that word?"

Winter nods while lowering his head to watch  his left hand as it flexes open, leaving a whirring sound after him. He looks a little bit upset about it, but doesn't pressure you any further. The truth is that you're worried he might not know what it implicates—what it might lead to. Because you sure as hell have a hard time controlling your feelings right now, and from what you've seen of Winter he doesn't have a lot of boundaries or impulse-control himself.

You put on his shirt in the silence, even though he's still looking at you. The cold temperature has made your nose runny and the only sounds in the room are now your sniffles, the crackling fire and Winter's whirring arm.

"I, uh, have to find—eat," Winter says, bringing his fingers up to his mouth while parting his lips. A soft smile cracks through your solemn exterior, relaxing into your chair.

"Food?"

"Yes. Food."

He looks down at you, eyes raking up the entirety of your figure, before reaching for a large fur that he drapes over his shoulders. You almost think you hear Winter whisper a "so small" to himself as he exits through the door, sending a gust of cold wind inside that makes you shudder.

As you follow him with your gaze through the window, he nearly looks like Leonardo in The Revenant with the rugged long hair and large fur as the snowflakes steadily rain down on him. Sam made you and Steve watch the movie a few weeks ago.

You wonder if Steve's been able to contact anyone. He definitely tried, if you know him as well as you think you do. Everyone back at the compound probably thinks you're dead by now, and might not look for you. If it weren't for Winter, you would be dead after all.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Two long and despicably boring hours drag on before you hear footsteps outside on the porch. And you can't help but stand up from where you've been sitting on the floor, limping towards the door as it's thrown open.

Winter has three fishes hanging from his hand. Slightly comical and also a little gross. There's probably some lake around here that he's been able to drill a hole into or something.

Your amused smile meets his stoic face that lights up just slightly when he sees you. Butterflies and heart eyes or what not—if he had been just a tinge more adapted to social cues he would've noticed the impact he has on you.

Winter's break in resolve quickly disappears as he realizes just what you are doing. He told you to not move a finger while your foot was still hurt.

"No. No standing," he seethes, nodding towards the tattered couch. You just give him a teasing smile in return. "Y/n. Little bunny," he sighs, laying down the fishes on his table and a handful of red berries that roll away.

"What, Winter?" you ask, trying to will the heat away from your cheeks. If you're honest, just standing like this is completely fine. It's walking that hurts like a fucking bitch.

With slow steps he nears your figure, towering over you with his massive build. You have to crane your neck to see his face, shuddering with the quiet growl sounding from his chest.

"No standing, I said. Only I carry you," he tells you, pointing his finger into your chest.

A gulp. An exhale that makes you realize how dry your mouth is all of a sudden.

"No?"

"Not listen to me. Makes me not happy—angry," Winter says. "Foot will be more bad if standing on it all the time."

Two dozens of minutes later he has obviously gotten his way. You don't think you could say no to him when he flashes those blue eyes of his without even trying.

Comfortably sitting on the couch that has been moved closer to the fire with a fur blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you watch him prepare food for the two of you once more. An old copper pan is filled with snow that has since long melted, now boiling so you can both drink some water for the first time in almost two days.

The palm of your hand is filled with cranberries that Bucky picked just for you—he told you so himself—that you've been snacking on. They're a little bit sour, but you're so hungry that you'd practically eat anything.

"Winter, can I ask you something?"

He turns his head around, facing you while laying down his knife.

"What did you do before coming here? Who were the people who called you, uh, who called you an Asset?"

A frustrated breath of air comes out of his nose, like merely the thought of his past angers him. And you begin to suspect that he has all right to feel that way.

"They made me kill. Have made many people dead with this arm."

Winter stretches it out in front of him, inspecting it like it is the first time. With disgust and a distaste so deeply ingrained that you can see his pained thoughts from here.

Within the blink of an eye he turns his attention towards the fire again, turning the fish so it doesn't get burnt. You don't say anything.

"They made me forget also. I did not want to, so then use special words and machine to make me do things." His back is tense now, the outline of his muscles distinct through the fabric of his shirt. "Hold me there for so long. Can't remember anything now from before."

The sound of a knife scraping against metal pierces through the air. It's the tip dragging against his arm, without creating as much as a dent despite the pressure.

"I do not want to hurt. Not you ever," Winter says.

The breath gets stuck in your throat, eliciting a choked, high-pitched sound as you try to find an answer worthy enough of the horrific crimes just confessed to you. All this he has been through, all the things he has done for the past two days, and he has the nerve to assure you that he means no harm.

"Winter," you whisper, barely noticeable when your throat is so thick and dry that you can barely speak. "Look at me. Please."

A sea of blue and sorrow and hatred and so much softness meets your own eyes. God, this man.

"You deserve good things. And I am not afraid of you, nor should you be of yourself. Honey, you've suffered enough. Don't let yourself be another source of pain."

Your palm comes to rest against his cheek, eyelids fluttering shut as he leans into your touch. You don't know if he understood every word, but it doesn't really matter as long as he understood the meaning behind them. And you think he does.

Winter cries. Tears, though few, leak down onto your skin as he silently grieves what life was taken from him. You don't know much about what he's lived through, but you know enough now to mourn for him too. You know enough to hold hate larger than you ever have for the people that used him.

That evil in the likes of villains on a screen exists among humanity is not new. You've heard about it in mission reports, in conversations between agents and seen it up front. Though nothing new, it hurts and aches in parts of your heart you thought were permanently disabled. Empathy has never been your strongest point but it might just break you right now.

"C'mere," you whisper while holding your arms out for him to escape into.

Winter drags himself forward to close the few feet between you, arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he buries his face into your lap.

What must be half an hour passes by with your fingers tangled up in his hair, nails gently scraping his scalp, and Winter's soft breathing warming up your legs. His own must be numb by now.

The food is long forgotten and probably burnt. You haven't really taken your eyes off of him for the entirety of this time. And despite what must be a routine lacking any sort of hair care, Winter has strands softer than a kitten's and a newfound source of jealousy for you. In these moments you don't particularly mind when your hands are the ones who get to feel his dark brown hair sift through your fingers.

But it hasn't been silent. No, you've rambled on about anything he might find interesting about your life to keep him distracted. He doesn't say anything, but you know he's listening. During things he doesn't like he squeezes your thigh, and sometimes he lets out quiet sounds as reaction.

"I love reading. I've probably read fifty books this year outside of research for work," you tell him, leaning your head back against the couch. "But not any classics, those are too hard to understand. I like simple stories with clichés and happy-endings. Makes me believe that I might find happiness like that someday too."

A particularly noticeable puff of air escapes Winter, hitting your leg with the warmth of it. An agreement, maybe? Or a silent plead for you to shut your mouth for a second?

"Oh, and I cook a lot too. But mostly the same three dishes. I'm not really that good, but I've perfected this tomato sauce I've been doing since I was 18."

You lift your hand to scratch your nose for only a second, and Winter still lets out a nearly silent whine for your absence. It makes you laugh, tugging on a few strands in answer.

"Do you want me to talk more?" you ask him.

He nods, holding onto you a little tighter.

"And is it really comfortable sitting on the floor? Don't you wanna come up to the couch?"

A shake of his head. Still. A nod.

Winter places his hands on either side of you, pushing himself up from the floor until he's standing tall right in front of your figure.

It only takes a pat of your hand on the cushion beside you for him to sit down. You push yourself into the armrest, legs crossed to your best ability with a foot that still has good swelling to it, to give him enough space. The couch is too small in reality and had its shining moments before you were born, but when Winter unfolds your legs and drapes them over his lap the two of you fit well enough.

“Thank you,” his rough voice croaks out after a silence so long you nearly forgot the meaning of speaking. The comfortable silence is always going to be good enough communication for you.

Your eyes are closed and too heavy to open again. What time it is you have no idea about, but it’s dark and you’re exhausted, but find some sliver of energy to answer him.

“What for?” you ask, soft voice on the verge of being slow.

“You are very…kind. Kind and uh, cute. Pretty.” His hand strokes up and down your leg, as if the thought of not touching you is unbearable. “Also smell so good. Want to be close all the time.”

The entirety of your body tenses up and you don’t know why. Why do your limbs turn to stone when his words burn in your veins, sends heat to your face and ears and heart that beats faster with each passing second?

You want to answer, but Winter beats you to it. Instead of expecting you to say anything in return he pets you on the head gently.

“Little bunny so tired. Already sleeping almost,” he says, more to himself than for your sake. You already know how tired you are.

The solid couch disappears from underneath you as he carries you with him to the bed. And just like last night, he maneuvers you until you’re laying flat atop of him.

A pleased hum sounds from your lips, snuggling into his warm hold with a tired smile adorning your face.

“Winter, tomorrow I would really like some pasta. A big pot that nobody else gets to taste but us,” you mumble. “Not even Steve.”

And Winter doesn’t really understand what you’re babbling about, but you can feel his smile despite your eyes being closed.

You could get used to this, and you haven’t felt like a life without Steve constantly nearby is something you could ever be without before. Two days and nights is all it took.

It scares you.

Part III

[violentviolette]

Do you have any advice for approaching violent and homicidal urges or just general anger with a therapist that's a little. Gentle? Anger is a very large portion of my problems, and I'm just concerned that my therapist will be more freaked out than she already is by me.

i think everything is in how u phrase it. im gonna be very real, a lot of traumatized ppl (myself included when i was younger so no judgement) tend to phrase what we say in the worst most extreme and shocking manner possible. some of that is intentional, because getting negative reactions from ppl and making them uncomfortable gives us a feeling of power and control over other ppls emotions. and sometimes its unintentional, because weve been conditioned to seek out negative reinforcement or have learned that our feelings are not taken seriously unless we explain them in the extreme

but either way it does mean that when ur trying to avoid a negative reaction it can be difficult to get those feelings across. but its actually pretty easy when u stop and give it some more thought. a good idea if u have trouble doing that on they fly would be to write down what u want to say and bring it in to read it/consult it while talking

a good place to start is to break the feeling down to its base parts and describe more of how ur experiencing it. this helps to avoid the initial emotional knee jerk ur therapist might have. so instead of being like "i have homicidal urges and fantasize about killing my family" something more like "im really struggling with my anger, when things happen, my first reaction is to get angry and then i cant move past that feeling to think clearly"

also always avoid actionable statements. don't say things like "i want to shoot my classmates" or "when someone talks i just want to take a brick to their face" those can get u in trouble but they're also just more likely to get a negative reaction because now ur therapist has to choose between u and the people they think u might harm. dont put them in a situation where they would have to even hypothetically choose ur feelings over someone elses safety cause thats when things get sticky. it puts them at odds with u and makes things go from simply "helping u" to now "protecting other ppl" a good quick trick for this is to just replace ppl with objects. instead of "i want to punch them" using "i want to punch something" or instead of "i want to kill them" using "i want to break things" if u absolutely must talk about ur urges being directed at living objects, its a good idea to qualify that u know thats wrong and lie that its not what u "really" want to do. things like "but i know thats not okay" "i know thats not healthy" "thats not how i want to react" "i want to find a different way to handle that feeling"

also using more broad language that is again centered on urself can be more productive. describe what the sensation physically feels like for u to experience as opposed to what it makes u want to do "when ppl talk to me at the wrong times, it feels like my skin is on fire and i get very antsy, it becomes hard to focus on anything else except how angry its making me" or "sometimes i get very restless, it feels like my body is buzzing and i cant get that to stop until i break or hit something, but i know thats not a good solution"

this will again help to keep ur therapist focused on helping to relieve ur feelings rather than protect others from potential violence. u stay the center of the conversation and they can focus on addressing the individual parts of ur feelings instead of being worried about how ur actions are affecting others