#I am so fucking fearful of (if we even have elections after this) who runs republican after trump.

[didnt-hear-idsb-live-again]

.

[cabbihugger]

sorry to everyone is being triggered from all the politics right now, I am gonna start distancing myself for a bit for the sake of my like 3 mutuals (lol) but I need to summarize my thoughts because laying under a tortilla blanket crying is not encouraging me.

I am so scared right now. I am utterly terrified. I am a white, able bodied, southern, post T trans man. And I am so fucking scared. No, no for me because politics should NEVER be about ourselves but rather those we want to keep in our lives. The day after election I spent my after school hours holding a girl we will call Maggie. She is a freshman in highschool and like many kids at my school and many of the kids I TA for (very very diverse STEM school) she was not born in America. She was born in Nigeria, she nor her parents have permanent American residency and she broke down. I have known her for four days. She is terrified that instead of waking across a graduation stage that she will be forced to go home where she fears a lack of education or real life. This is no shame on the women or lives of anyone in Nigeria but this is the fear of a 13 year old girl who cried against someone who she dosnt even know the full name of. I can’t pretend to know her exact pain but I cried softly with her as our Procter gave her space.

The day after the election I sat in American history as my professor explained the causes of the civil war, we went into a soft, then a hard lockdown. That means that the school was active on or under threat from a person with a weapon. I WAS SITTING IN A CORNER OF THE ROOM PRESSED AGAINST THE BODY OF Another KID AS WE BOTH VEIWED TEXTS FROM OUR PARENTS. WE SAT WITH THE FEAR IN THE BACK OF OUR MINDS THAT THERE IS A SMALL CHANCE WE WOULD NOT BE GOING HOME- GOING HOME IN A COUNTRY WHERE OUR CITIZENs ELECTED A RAPIST, FASCIST, AND A NAZI FOR LACK OF A BETTER WORD. (And I was raised on bad brains I don’t use that word lightly). In the end it was some idiot with a gun running around on campus lawn. Sounds like America.

At the end of the day, the sun is going to keep rising, and YOU need to be there when it does. Otherwise the sun would sadden missing your face. It’s going to be okay it’s going to be okay. My dms are open. If you flat out need someone to give you a reason to wake up tomorrow we’re gonna sit here and write some, I’m so proud of every

trans person, queer person, person of color, disabled individual, autistic person, neurodivergent person, Muslim, Jew, and so so so many more that I cannot name right now in my face of anger, who live to vote till the next election

[nerdyenby]

I get most of my news either online or from a newsletter I subscribe to, but I’m feeling pretty good right now about our democratic candidates so I sat down to watch Walz’s debut at the Philadelphia rally and here are the highlights (imo, of course)

“Before I was elected vice president or elected a United States senator, I was an elected attorney general, and, before that, an elected district attorney and, before that, I was a courtroom prosecutor. So in those roles, I took on perpetrators of all kinds: predators who abused women, fraudsters who scammed consumers, cheaters who broke the rules for their own gain. So hear me when I say: I know Donald Trump’s type.” -KH

KH talking about fighting for a future where every American can afford to own a home hit me so hard. Why is that such a fantasy? Why have I never even considered it possible?

I am obsessed with the confidence, this is the energy I need. We have plenty of reasons to be afraid but goddamn did I need someone to stand up and calmly declare that we will be okay, and I am so fucking glad it’s a Black woman.

A history teacher as our next VP <3

Their motif of fighting for the future is so much more potent coming from a woman of color and a man who has dedicated so much of his life to youth and to supporting them and their futures. Like damn, maybe the kids really will be okay. Fighting poverty, securing free school lunches for kids, protecting bodily autonomy, and founding his schools first GSA as a straight white man? I don’t know much about Walz but what I’ve learned so far has earned him a lot of respect in my book.

Fuck, Harris talking about Walz’s background and reputation in his school has me tearing up.

“We will win.” Okay, yeah, I’m crying now. These two make me feel so safe, it’s not fair I’ve never felt this way before.

Friendly reminder that one of our main political candidates does not value disabled lives and will openly say as much. Trump wants us dead, don’t let him win.

“Tim and I have a message for Trump and others who want to turn back the clock on our fundamental freedoms: we’re not going back.” -KH

“After Roe was overturned [TW] was the first governor in the country to sign a new law that enshrined reproductive freedom as a fundamental right.” -KH

“Ultimately in this election, we each face a question: what kind of country do we want to live in? A county of freedom, compassion, and rule of law or a country of chaos, fear, and hate?” -KH

“We love our country, and I believe it is the highest form of patriotism to fight for the ideals of our country.” -KH

“Don’t ever underestimate teachers.” -TW (preach)

“It was my students, they encouraged me to run for office. They saw in me what I was hoping to instill in them: a commitment of common good, a belief that one person can make a difference.” -TW

“Now, Donald Trump sees the world a little differently than us. First of all, he doesn’t know the first thing about service. He doesn’t have time for it because he’s too busy serving himself. Again and again and again, Trump weakens our economy to strengthen his own hand. He mocks our laws, he sows chaos and division, and that’s to say nothing of his record as president.” -TW

“Some of us in here are old enough to remember — I see you down there, I see those old white guys — some of us are old enough to remember when it was republicans who were talking about freedom. It turns out now what they meant was the government should be free to invade your doctors office. In Minnesota, we respect our neighbors and their personal choices that they make. Even if we wouldn’t make the same choice for ourselves, there’s a golden rule: mind your own damn business. ” -TW

“When Vice President and I talk about freedom, we mean the freedom to make your own healthcare decisions and for our children to be free to go to school without worrying they’ll be shot dead in their classrooms.” -TW

“Vice President Harris’s idea: freedom is a ticket, for education to be that ticket to the middle class. Not crippling debt, air that’s clean, water that’s pure, communities that are safe.” -TW

TW: “Donald Trump isn’t fighting for you or your family-” random audience member: “You are!” Walz: *allows himself a breath of a laugh before continuing on just as strong as before*

“I gotta tell you, pointing out just an observation of mine that I made, I just have to say it. You know it, you feel it [the republican candidates] are creepy and, yes, just weird as hell.” -TW

“So we got 91 days. My god, that’s easy. Well sleep when we’re dead! Over those next 91 days and every day in the White House, I’ll have Vice President Harris’s back, every single day, and we’ll have yours.” -TW

This is the broadcast I watched

[qqueenofhades]

As much as I love hearing trump getting more charges and would love nothing more than him to get sent to prison, I fear that when he eventually goes to trial, they’re will be some crazy maga nut who could watch him kill their mother and would still claim he’s innocent.

Honestly, I am... not totally sure what y'all want me to say here? I get the fear, believe me, but also, after every Trump indictment, just like clockwork, a lot of Gloomy the Doom Men pop up to pre-emptively insist that it doesn't mean anything, it won't go anywhere, he won't actually be punished, etc. I'm not saying this is that, but it does happen every time, and I just... don't know what I'm supposed to do about it? Is this part of the whole "The System Doesn't Work and Therefore We Are Justified in Not Participating" thing that the online leftists habitually do, or what? Honest question. First it was he'll get re-elected, then it was he will never leave power, then it was the Republicans will win in 2022, then it was he will never get indicted, etc. The goalposts keep shifting so any progress we do make on holding him to account (which is far more than has ever happened to any other American president, including actual war criminal George W. Bush) somehow is "meaningless" and I just?? Don't get it??

First of all, jury selection is a thing, and aims to weed out those who, in this case, are either too vehemently against Trump or too vehemently for him. They want the exact sort of mushy middle voter of which there are far too many in this country, who can be persuaded one way or the other but doesn't have ironclad previous biases. Also, they must have done a good job selecting jurors so far, given that all the grand juries have returned indictments, and at least one of them (the one in NY) had someone who was a fan of conservative talk radio/right wing politics. So if by this you mean one rogue juror will preclude a guilty conviction, that is something that can actually be planned for and prepared, and as I said, all the grand juries seated to hear evidence against Trump so far have returned indictments.

Also, this case has been assigned to U.S. District Judge Tanya Chutkan, who is an Obama appointee and has been willing to sentence J6 defendants harshly in the past. She is widely regarded as competent, fair, and firm, and will not grant any of the bullshit delays that Aileen Cannon the Trump-stooge judge will bend over backward to find for him in the Mar-a-Lago docs case in Florida. So there's a strong possibility this one goes to trial before May 2024, and the judge in this case is neither a Trump judge or a slobbering Trump partisan: indeed, quite the opposite. So I don't think we can assume that she will be so incompetent as to not manage her own trial and/or jury.

Anyway, yes. We don't know what will happen, but similar to the Espionage Act charges he got hit with last time (themselves meriting of a stiff prison sentence) Trump is facing yet more high-level felony charges that come with serious jail time. So how about for now, we don't automatically assume that what will be the most watched and covered trial in a generation will fall apart because of a simple and easily avoidable mistake that even I, a non-lawyer, know how to fix, much less a team of extremely experienced prosecutors who know this has to be absolutely fucking watertight and then some? It will be better on your mental health for the long run and arguably also much more accurate.

[apricotbuncakes]

(866) 488-7386

This is the Trevor Project Crisis/Suicide Intervention number.

I talked to someone tonight and she was so fucking awesome. She helped pull me out of my spiral, talked me down from my darker thoughts, gave me encouragement, and told me I was doing awesome for being brave and sharing how I was feeling. It was such a weight off my chest to hear someone else tell me I wasn't allowed to commit suicide (yes, I did ask if she could tell me that, yes she did awesome, and yes I am feeling so much better and am much safer because I called).

This number and others have high traffic because of the election season and the fear surrounding that, but don't let that discourage you from calling if you need to. I was scared to call too, and I tried every other coping mechanism I could think of, but hearing another person walk me through things helped so much better.

Call this number and get help if you need it. And yes, if you're asking "do I really need help?" Or "other people probably have it worse than me" you probably need it more than you realize. At least, that was my experience.

(More info on my experience below the cut)

I have this really weird relationship with suicidality. Like, the last time it was this bad was when I was in middle school. I ended up in a mental hospital because of it, and was relatively okay after I got all the feelings and stuff out of the way. I wasn't even in there a full week. I hated it there, but I know that if things get like that again, where a mental hospital feels safer than being at home, that it's serious. If I'm willing to go to a place like that to keep myself alive, I need help. It's a last minute metric, but it's a metric that's kept me alive so I'll fucking take it.

I actually made a promise to myself then that I wasn't allowed to try and kill myself, and every time it's gotten even remotely close to being this intense I've always told someone. Tonight it's late though, I was running low on sleep, hadn't eaten cause of nausea, and everyone who I wanted to talk to to distract me was either asleep or also on the verge of spiraling, and I didn't want to stress them out more.

So I went to the bathroom, I looked myself in the mirror and repeated "I'm not allowed to kill myself" over and over. It worked for a while. I more or less intimidated myself out of suicide for all of 20 minutes (every minute counts and I'm very proud of that). But it all spiraled again. So I got a notebook, a pencil, and I hit 'call' after dialing the Trevor number. I knew they had high call volumes so I made sure to use the notebook and pencil for something productive (productive as in 'keeping me alive'). I made a list (several pages long) of all the reasons, big and small, for me to keep living. I included selfless and selfish goals. I included the little things like wanting sushi or strawberries again. I included expensive things like going ice skating or traveling to Mexico. I included the personal goals like updating all my IDs to have the same name + gender marker, and getting top surgery. I included that I wanted to help other trans people get to safer places and that I wanted to finish college with a degree.

I have so many hopes and dreams and I'm not allowed to let them die with me. I'm not allowed to die.

And I told all of this to the wonderful woman who picked up tonight. And she walked me through everything, told me that I was okay, that we were all going to get through this together. She helped me, and I gave her the resources I had to look into safer states for everyone. She joked that I was doing her job and we laughed about it. I even told her that she could call or text my number if she needed something (outside of the call back/check up that we scheduled to make sure I was still doing okay). I told her I'd be happy to give her resources. I'm not sure if she's allowed to text or call me as an individual, but I did give her permission to if she happens to be allowed to.

I feel so much better, and the nausea has subsided. I'm going to get some food, lay on the couch, and watch something fun and lighthearted. Because it's been a rough night, and I need something fun. I deserve something fun.

[hero-israel]

one fringe and somewhat-less-important-than-the-wholeass-war-israel-is-currently-in thing im worried about is that. the political climate surrounding israel both on and offline- where, after an inhumanely evil slaughter of over a thousand israeli civilians in a single day by an outspokenly antisemitic arab terror group, the survivors are being viciously mocked and jeered by the left and witnessing their country being dragged to the hague on false charges of genocide by *south fucking africa*- might result in a sharp veer towards the right-wing movement, at least among the younger generations. i know Netanyahu had an incredibly shaky and slim supporter base even when he was elected and the closest thing I've seen to spoken support to him has been people saying he, and his party, should all just resign (as opposed to being shot dead, for example) but, even then, this kind of shaky, fearful, uncertain time has historically been the kind that has allowed shitty far-right heads of state to rise to power like trump, Bolsonaro, several military dictatorships, and even facists like mussolini. (and also that one other guy... but i shan't compare anybody to him)

this is a relatively petty thing to focus on as a gentile on the other side of the world, but i am *not* a fan of the idea of a historically queer-friendly state like Israel (even if they overstate their own achievements in that area) going in that direction.

then again, I'm not there. am i just spewing shit or do you think something like that is going on?

Netanyahu and his allies would be wiped out in an election, nearly all Israelis hold them responsible. AND Israelis may very well end up voting for other right wingers. It would still be a major improvent. From a national functioning standpoint, there is a big difference between President Mike Pence and President Mike Lindell. We should only be so lucky as to have Israel be upgraded to a government run by Ayelet Sheked and Avigdor Liberman. As is, the polls say it would go to Gantz and Lapid, who are pretty moderate by Israeli standards.

[scarred-by-monsters]

Post election mun post.

To all of my rp partners, I'm sorry. I couldn't bring myself to post for a while after the election. More under the cut because I don't think people want to read this because I am going to get very VERY personal. But I feel like I need to post this.

There is also going to have a lot of triggers in this so skip if you'd like.

I have extreme anxiety and depression. I've talked about it a long time ago. But the last 9 days have caused a resurgence of the feelings I've pushed down and crashed my mental health.

So fun.

One reason I pushed my tubal ligation so hard, was because being in the political sphere that is American politics.

I knew that if we lost this election, the Alt-Right would try to push to make me and people with Vaginas into incubators for an unwanted child. Which if you don't stay up with American politics, has already started to happen.

Rape culture has already begun its push back into normal people's lives along with the lives of female children. Just a few days ago, Nick Fuentes posted a tweet saying, " Your Body, My Choice." And it has blazed into the lives of everyone I know, youtubers I follow, and the anxiety that I am already feeling.

I saw a Facebook post today that someone had posted about keeping their three 6 grade girls home because the sixth grade boys were saying that to all the girls in their school when the teachers weren't looking.

If you want to see more: here's a YouTube video about it. https://youtu.be/RdDHrIiazsg?si=PUJZnMIxbE9DbKSR

I also have a deep-seated fear of the years to come.

My best friend and her wife are already planning to flee the country. I have tried to stay in contact and check in with all of my LGBTQIA+ Friends, but my mental health is so bad atm I barely have enough energy to go to work so my car doesn't get repossessed.

I am also scared of what my personal life is going to look like.

The Republicans have been trying for years to strip away social security. I live with my parents and take care of them as much as I can on top of my full-time job, writing and being an anxious bean.

We relay on Social Security to pay our mortgage and other bills. It is quite possible that I will be homeless if they get rid of it.

And I have no idea what we will do then.

That isn't even touching on the fact that they are already talking about sending Red State National Guard officers to Blue states to round up both legal and illegal immigrants and not caring whose caught in the middle.

All of this is awful and life is going to be the absolute worst for the foreseeable future.

Unless we have a designated survivor moment. But I digress.

All of this has made me come to a decision in my life and in the life of my family and friends.

I want to run. I want to flee the country I grew up in and leave everything I've ever known behind because I am so scared.

But I'm not going to.

I have never backed down from a fight and I have never backed down to a man. I wasn't raised that way.

I am going to fight. In EVERY POSSIBLE WAY THAT I CAN. I am not ready to give up and let these fascist Nazis win. I am going to fight and if it comes to a civil war, Then I'll fight for everyone I fucking care for.

All of my LGBTQIA+ Brothers and sisters. All of my disabled neighbors. All of my elderly neighbors who are going to be homeless as well.

The little girls who are going to grow up in a hellscape that makes them think that they are nothing more than a man's plaything.

I refuse to give up and run.

Fuck Nazis. Fuck Donald Trump and the Alt-Right who are too far up their ass to see the real world.

I will survive on spite for the rest of my life. However, long or short, it's going to be.

@travelingthroughworlds @ask-lee-twdg @staggeringlytony @nytehavyn-circle @countfromthecarpathians @breannasewell and anyone else I'm forgetting

[blindrapture]

july 28, again.

got asked a question about the july 28th log.

here's a transcription:

Dr0Shadow 🇵🇸 🇺🇦 — Today at 3:42 PM

@DJay did you just throw Elon Musk into the rapture and reference those dumb cars tesla made like a decade before they wouldve been invented

DJay — Today at 5:02 PM it was definitely a nod to the real-life present day. there are some of those in the final draft. but elon musk was already CEO of Tesla, he became CEO in 2004.

the log sorta implies that the Judge chose him sorta arbitrarily-- as he puts it, he's not even from San Francisco. I imagine he wasn't in it at the time and was just, like, whisked away to that court scene. so in some ways it's a demonstration of a "greater" logic being used by Xanadu's judgement (with the Judge as the vessel of that) that greater logic being something like… "this is a name more people in the world will know (even in 2011)." but the Attached for that log more overtly draws attention to real-life shit. the Attached makes a pretty obvious allusion in "tweet tweet" and "Now I'm for the birds." though it's still "ambiguous" enough that one can instead read a non-twitter interpretation out of it. poetry, and all. I seem to have landed on the font for that Attached being Georgia (for the website, and "Chat"/courier new for tumblr), which is the Tiresias/Thoth font. though there exist other Attacheds in a specific other font that are exclusively written by real-life author me, and I could have used that for this. I think, if I had used real-life-author-me font for that Attached, then we could just call this a cute anachronism. but I didn't want to do that. and I didn't do that. I elected more for Poetry. what does it really mean??? I dunno. sincerely. it's the kind of thing that, if I sat down and really concentrated, and rambled at you for an hour, I could reason out a convincing interpretation. and if I had to guess, like. the short answer is, like with the Fears themselves, "it's more about this deeper pattern that real-life Elon Musk is just one iteration of." "Elon Musk is one frond on a big hyperdimensional plant. Rapture depicts other fronds of it and shows how they connect to the Elon Musk frond, and Rapture tries to imply the deeper stem."

but. but yeah. the surface intent is "what if elon musk gets trapped in a car and thrown off a cliff. what if the fictional world gives justice for something that happened in a different world." the surface intent is for you to get a good chuckle out of it. rapture actually has a fair few instances of…….. Real-Life Bad People in completely different contexts. like there's Attacheds, including ones we haven't gotten to yet, saying that, like, "comcast really stepped up when the apocalypse came; they provided free internet for everyone and worked overtime, volunteered, to keep the servers running" and "Rupert Murdoch had a change of heart, seeing the planet collapse. he saved a fucking bus of orphans. and gave his newspaper offices to be used by squatters, pro bono." in those cases they're more like really dry black comedy. the joke is they would never do that. and, if they ever read rapture themselves, they'd be struck with a window into a world where they actually did something people liked. elon musk could have gotten something like that. but I elected to not even give him the chance. maybe we can read this as a Dante kinda thing. how Dante wrote real-life people into his Comedy. how he handled the bad people. and rapture has been compared to the Comedy before, by people who are not me!

it has never been my desire to make rapture into the Comedy. even after I read and learned to appreciate the Comedy. I deeply admire the thing, and I take inspiration from it in some broad ways. but I am willing to have moments in rapture that give you, like, a window into a world where rapture was like a different book. that works really well with rapture as a whole. gels well with it. lots of windows into other worlds. in some ways rapture is a hell of a lot like rick and morty. and that wasn't intentional either! but it's honestly one of the closest analogues I can think of. and I've tried.

[spookyboywhump]

I can relate to the frustration, but assuming this is about politics, I don't think "lesser of two evils" is a deep moral statement people believe in on a philosophical level, but just a way to cope with begrudgingly voting for a party that's the obvious choice given the only realistic alternative. It's a roundabout way of signaling how bad the implied "greater evil" is, and it pops up every election season, only to die down, since it's rooted in pragmatism rather than some serious moral shit. When (progressive) people in the US vote, don't they do it with an understanding that at the end of the day they'll either have to live under a government led by the "war crimes and some welfare here and there" party or the "50x the war crimes and also we need to start killing as many trans people as possible" party? Even in terms of foreign policy alone, there is not a single thing on the republican agenda that wouldn't be like, at least ten times worse (unless someone's idea of "good" is just maximizing the amount of brown people that die). And domestically? Holy shit. I don't want to spiral down into a rant on how fucked the mind of an average conservative lawmaker is, but we both know that for some marginalized people democratic rule vs. republican rule is literally life vs. death.

Just to be clear I ain’t trying to start an argument or nothing this is just my opinion on shit going on in the world.

After seeing so many people say “I know he’s committing genocide and I don’t like it either but you HAVE to vote for Biden, you HAVE to vote for the lesser of two evils” I cannot take it anymore. After seeing people yell “four more years” over people protesting an actual genocide I cannot take it anymore. I am tired of Biden being treated like he can do no wrong, and any wrong he does do should be ignored simply because “Trump Worse™️”.

I have reached the point where I don’t give a shit who wins the presidency, I care about pretty much everything under that down to small local elections. It ain’t really that I’m one of those people who thinks voting Doesn’t Work, I think it can, I think people need to worry about more than just who becomes president though. I think both candidates are evil, and I want the people who represent me and my state to be there when they’re committing evil to speak out against it. I want smaller politicians who actually have to listen to the people voting for them to run in the best interests of those like me and I want them in power in whatever office they’re running for. I think people put all their effort into the presidential candidates and ignore other elections that can still make change, even just in their home town.

I personally however cannot put my support behind this bastard after watching all this. I am tired of watching people defend him, when he wants to bypass all this shit to send weapons to Israel it’s whatever, but when it comes to Roe v Wade being overturned, when it comes to states trying to criminalize transgender people existing at all, when it comes to kids in cages, suddenly he’s “doing his best” and he “doesn’t actually have that much power”. I find this to be a somewhat selfish take given the severity of things in Gaza and other places but all that money he’s sending to Israel could work fucking miracles for those vulnerable minority populations here. Everything I was told to fear would happen in 2016 has happened since 2020. Everything we were told would be fixed in 2020 was swept under the rug and any criticisms of it were met with “Oh, so you’d rather have Trump as president???”.

I’m a mixed Mexican transgender man. I live in Texas. I’m capable of bearing children. I am becoming more disabled by the day since October of 2023. And I don’t trust neither presidential candidate to protect me and those like me, I don’t trust neither one as far as I could throw them. I know people are gonna vote for Biden anyway, I can’t realistically tell people what to do and who to vote for, but I do think we have a responsibility to hold him accountable, we should speak up against war crimes, as long as he’s saying the US stands with Israel, we need to be shouting that we sure as fuck do not. We cannot continue to let this fear of trump hypothetically becoming president make us feel like we have to look the other way when this president is currently, actively helping to commit genocide.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Two - False Hopes

He was immediately recognizable; one of the two dudes that were window shopping, in an Adiad tracksuit that seemed way too thin for the middle of winter. He had black hair, a scar running along his forehead, and a fucking gun in his hand.

4k Words | 13 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: guns, assault.

Getting home was an event in itself, Dad taking unnecessary loops through neighborhoods and avoiding main roads as we left Portland in our wake, headed home. Home was Chapman, on a 5 acre lot hidden behind some comfortable, unclaimed woods. The only sign anyone lived at all on this road was our mailbox, bricked in after an accident involving a moped and a wild turkey. Our gravel driveway jerked the truck around, making me drop my phone as I browsed Reddit and causing Brent’s head to smack rather hard against the window he was napping on. “Wakey wakey,” I joked as he groaned, massaging his temple.

He tried to punch my leg in retaliation.

Dad shook his head in the driver’s seat, chuckling to himself as he said, “Alrighty, kids, school night, so I want you both to start headed to bed when we get in there, okay?” 

“Thought we didn’t have to listen to you anymore?” I teased. 

Dad rolled his eyes, meeting mine in the rear view mirror. “You’ve got a month till then, ma’am. And I’m still gonna make you two sleep at a decent time after that. I’ll turn off the Wi-Fi,” he threatened. 

“You monster.” 

Sleep, though, was hard that night. My mind just couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. The brick. The bomb. Was the world really that full of hate? These Conduits couldn’t help what they were. Who they were. Just like people couldn’t control skin tone, or height or something. 

But those protestors…that was hate. Enough hate to get someone charged with destruction of property. Enough for them to not care that there were kids. 

Enough to threaten to kill my Dad. 

Losing him…that was one of my biggest fears. It was hard enough, growing up without Mom there. We had no remaining family; grandparents, uncles, all gone before we were even thoughts in Mom and Dad’s relationship. If we lost Dad, that’d be it. I’d only have Brent. 

The thought terrifies me.

Thankfully, though, he was there as we woke early the next morning, pulling a waffle from our waffle iron when I stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and in the middle of a French braid. “Good morning my dear Jeanie!” He chirped.

“Dad, please. It’s 6 am.” I groaned. “Why are you happy?” 

“Because, my dear. My love. My shining star,” he exaggerated, pirouetting with the plate high above his head and spinning towards me. “I get to see you two off. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

He offered the plate to me. “Sounds terrible,” I teased, taking it. “But if it comes with breakfast every day, then sure.” 

“I knew you only loved me for my cooking.” 

“Dad, you can barely cook.” 

Brent was next in the room, immediately bolting for the coffee pot and starting the brew. That was his job; coffee making. Didn’t know how, but he could make a delicious, albeit strong, cup of joe. Plus I don’t think either of us were going to function today without it; winter exams were in full swing, and being Seniors, they carried so much more weight. Especially with FAFSA looming in the new year, and college applications due just as soon. 

I finished plaiting my braid, letting it fall to my back as I absolutely smothered the food in syrup. Maybe these waffles held the secrets to memorizing pre-cal. Lord knew I needed it. 

Brent plopped beside me with his own stack of waffles, skipping the syrup and just digging straight in like a heathen. “I was also thinking,” Dad paused, pouring more batter into the iron and closing it, “That this will be the first Christmas break I’m off. Ever. I haven’t bought you two presents yet, so what would you say to a vacation?” 

I couldn’t say anything at all. Brent, however, elected to choke on his waffle. 

“Vacation?” I finally worked out, my eagerness barely audible over Brent’s coughs. We haven’t been on vacation since 8th grade, when Dad took us to Disneyland out in Cali. It’s just been too crazy for all of us; Brent was caught up in sports, I had started my art portfolio and gymnastics. Dad began his activism around that time too. 

And after a hellish time like exam season, I was ready for a getaway. 

“Yep!” Dad said, filling a glass with water and passing it to Brent. “Not sure where. But I can do my work from a hotel just as easy as from the den. Figured you two are old enough to tell me where you want to go. I will say,” he opened the waffle iron, “This may count as your birthday gift too — I’ll still get you both something small, sure, but everything would go to a vacay.” 

Oh, that word sounded weird coming out of his mouth. 

Brent, throat now lubricated, asked “But we get to decide?” 

“Sure,” Dad shrugged. “Within reason. Not taking you two to the Red Light District in Amsterdam or anything—“

“Damn, there goes my choice,” I sighed, giggling as Dad rolled his eyes. 

“And keep it local, we wont be able to update your passports in time. But you two talk it out, and tell me before break. I have so many miles from work I can easily book us cheap tickets.” 

That made it so much easier to get to school. 

Brent and I immediately started debating on a place when we entered the courtyard of Linus Pauling High School, finding a tree to shelter under and nurse our coffees. “MOMA? Really?” Brent scoffed. “You want to go to New York to visit an art museum?” 

“Hey, I’ve heard it’s cool!” I threw my empty hand up defensively. “Besides, they’re doing a showcase of all of Delsin Rowe’s tags he left in Seattle.” 

That got his attention. Delsin Rowe, the Conduit’s Abraham Lincoln. The man that stormed Seattle for a week, changed the entire landscape of the world, and then ran off never to be seen again. He was like a real life Batman, freeing people from tyranny and then disappearing into the night. 

I loved his art. Brent loved the story. 

But apparently, not enough to get him to consider NYC. “I can look up the pics for free,” he shrugged, sipping his coffee. “Besides, New York City is the East Coast’s Hollywood.” 

I grimaced at that. Hollywood was a part of our Cali vacation I’d love to forget, and yet be forced to forever remember. 

“Yo, Brent!” 

Our heads turned, looking at the group that was coming close. Tommy, Brent’s best friend, was leading the pack, arm wrapped around Theresa, my bestie. Had to admit, they were a cute couple; I just hoped it would last, because the nuke of their breakup would cause irreversible damage to our friend group. Cat followed close behind her cousin, the dinosaur hat she chose to go with today pulled down close to her skull, shielding her from the cold. Dominic lagged behind, scuffing his boots in the snow, off in another world where you’d always find him running away to. Mei was nowhere to be seen. 

I didn’t miss how Brent deflated a bit beside me at that. 

Nonetheless, Brent recovered, getting up to dap up Tommy, Theresa escaping his grasp and coming to sit beside me, snatching my coffee from my hands and taking a sip. “Wh-, give that back!” I laughed indignantly, swiping for my tumbler that she kept just out of reach. 

“Give me back my black dress then we’ll talk,” she teased, taking another sip. 

I blushed slightly, “Shit, I keep forgetting about that. Why don’t you come over and get it today?” 

Tommy heard, chiming in with, “Aren’t you two grounded still?” 

Brent went on to explain what happened, how Dad benevolently released us from punishment in exchange for being able to keep a close eye on us. 

Explaining why he was working from home, though, was less exciting.

“You sure Lifeline left that behind?” Tommy inquired. “Y’know, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bomb-making Bioterrorist—“

“Tommy, they threw a brick at us,” I interjected before he could continue on with his bullshit. The token Devil's Advocate. Didn’t help his Grandfather was ex-DUP.

Dominic finally entered the stratosphere, repeating, “They threw a brick at you?” 

It was my turn to narrate, explaining the day we had yesterday — minus all the cleaning. How Lifeliners spit at Dad, how they targeted us and didn’t even care we were still kids. Not for long, but still. 

At least Tommy had the sense to look ashamed for being their advocate. 

I finally got my tumbler back from Theresa, throwing back the little bit of coffee she left me and gulping hard. Coming down, my eyes caught flying hands, Cat trying to convey something getting lost in the boy’s banter. 

My ASL was getting better — especially now that Linus Pauling offered sign language as an elective. But Cat, being so proficient, flew with those fingers so fast that I only caught one word: ‘safe.’ “Hey, Tommy, what’s Cat saying?” I asked, breaking up guy time. 

Tommy hummed, turning to his little cousin. Cat was our designated baby, a sophomore we all guarded with our life because of her mutism. She was sweet, full of spirit, eccentric — but entirely silent. Which of course, caught her a bunch of shit with the bullies: caused some arguments from me and Theresa, with some reinforcement punches from Brent and Tommy. 

“Oh, she asked if you guys will be safe? After everything,” Tommy translated, leaning over to whisper, “Remember to go a bit slower, these noobs can’t keep up,” in her ear. 

I shrugged. “We should be? But…after yesterday,” I sighed. “I don’t know.” 

“We will be,” Brent interjected. “Dad knows what to do,” 

The bell rang, signaling for all its little livestock to mosey on to their first stop of slaughter. Meaning, for me, Pre-Cal. 

Yay. 

We all dispersed on promises to catch up at lunch, submitting ourselves to the torture of final exams. I wasn’t made for math. Formulas and number crunching just didn’t compute in my mind, like I was a computer using dial up. I finished my exam early, probably more a sign of my lacking knowledge than utter genius, being excused to the library by Mr. Emerson. 

I found a comfortable corner to hide away in, pulling my sketchbook out of my backpack and opening to my last page; a partially done practice session of drawing realistic looking hands that, honestly, weren’t looking too realistic.

Realism wasn’t my attraction, though. I wanted to be a comic book author. Write my own stories, draw the art. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to expand my arsenal and become well versed in everything I could to grow my portfolio. Realism, abstract — hell, even did a few furry things for Cat. It all had to go towards building the life I wanted. Especially since the art school I wanted to go to, Giverny Institute of the Arts, was very competitive.

That big dream, comic books? Wasn’t gonna be easy, though. Comics died out in popularity after the Empire City Catastrophe, and haven’t really made a solid comeback since. Superheroes that were all the rave back then seemed taboo after The Beast, and were all but discontinued. Nearly every big name franchise went bankrupt save for a comic adaptation of Sherlock Holmes, and Manga — which wasn’t really my deal.

‘Course, there was also rule34, but…no. Just no.

I’d probably have to enter animation or something, which was fine. I could deal with that. It was way more secure than comics, at least. My last semester was predominantly electives, since my summer classes put me ahead of schedule, and I planned on taking every Rendering and Animation class Giverny sponsored through the school district. Maybe one day, I’d be one of the lucky ones. The type of person to beat all odds and achieve my dreams, to have a rather lucrative career as a comic artist. Maybe.

But for now, I’d have to hock away at these stupid hands. Why are hands always so hard?

I wasn’t alone for long, though, the familiar thump of heeled boots announcing another friend. “Hey Jean,” Mei greeted. 

“Hey, didn’t see you this morning,” I looked up, sheepishly closing my sketchbook. Just ‘cause I wanted to be an artist didn’t mean I wanted anyone to see the work when it was still under construction.

Mei shrugged off her messenger bag, setting it on the floor and plopping beside me. “I was studying. Was going to in a minute, too. Just wanted to stop and say hi.” 

“So then why did you sit down?”

“Cause I’m tired of studying.” Mei reached into her backpack, pulling out a ziplock bag. “Rice cake?” 

I’ll always say yes to food. 

Taking a bite out of the rice cake, I said, “Hey, by the way, thanks for talking to Dad. He ungrounded us and it’s all thanks to you, Mei-flower.” 

Mei grimaced, “Oh god, I hate that you heard Sobo call me that. But, you’re welcome. It was good practice for my Debate exam, too.” 

“Had nothing to do with him still wanting to rat you guys out?” 

“Only partially,” 

I laughed, taking another bite and exercising my bad manners by speaking with my mouth full. “Y’know, now that we’re ungrounded, maybe you and Brent could quit with the gross puppy eyes and go on a date. He’s free for the rest of the month. Rest of his life, if you’re willing.” 

Mei rolled her eyes, muttering, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But there was no lying with her face that red. 

“Oh please, if I have to sit through one more muttering mess of a convo—“

“Stop.” Mei giggled, accepting defeat. Sighing, she became crestfallen. “Besides, I don’t know if Brent is all that into me.” 

“You’re kidding, right? Smooth talking, bad boy Brent that can’t even talk without st-st-stuttering around you?” I scoffed. 

“You don’t know for sure if he likes me,”

“You’re saying you know him better than his twin?” She didn’t retort. “Just — give it a chance. Maybe winter formal? Since we can go to that now,” 

That struck something in Mei. She wandered away in her mind, nibbling on her rice cake absentmindedly. “Hmm. Maybe. But that’s, what, this Friday? Would he be ready for a dance by then? He said he wasn’t going,” 

“Please,” I shook my head, smiling. “You ask him out, he’s gonna demand we go to the mall today.” 

“Hey so, Dad,” Brent started from the backseat of the truck after losing a round of rock-paper-scissors for shotgun. “You think we can go to the mall?” 

Looking in his rear view mirror and waiting for a car to pass before he backed out, Dad cocked his head slightly. “The mall? Why—“ 

“Oh my God, did she ask you?” I interrupted, spinning to look at him. God, he was so pink. 

No will to pretend, he simply asked, “You knew?” 

“Pfft — knew? I told her to.” 

“May I please be clued in, dear children?” Dad interjected. “Especially if it demands my money.” 

“Mei asked Brent to the formal,” I spurted, ignoring Brent’s protests behind me. “About time too, hopefully you two will stop being so weird around each other.” 

Dad now spun in place to look back at Brent. “Did she, son?” Brent nodded. “Well,” Dad shrugged, putting the truck in reverse, “You’ll need a suit, then,” 

“Oh, can I have Theresa come hang out?” I begged Dad. 

Brent, finally deciding to buckle in, added, “Tommy too? I wanted to get his opinion on outfits.”

Dad pulled forward, joining the terribly long queue out of the parking lot. “My God, do you guys not want to hang out with me? I’m cool. Hip, groovy, based or whatever the kids say—“

“Dad, literally no one says that,” I laughed. 

But Dad, not one to miss my lack of denial, whined, “You don’t! I’m just chauffeur for you guys, aren’t I?” 

“Don’t forget bank.” Brent joked.

“Hey, you want that new suit or not?” But sighing, Dad relented. “Fine. Invite them. I needed to get some new stuff since I’m working from home now, anyways.” 

We were on our phones texting before he finished the sentence. 

Unfortunately, that meant a 45 minute ride into the city — which easily turned into an hour and some change, with rush hour traffic. Wasn’t too bad, though; it was fun being able to see Dad immediately after school instead of waiting for him to stumble home from the office at, like, 9 PM. It did mean we were subjected to his playlist — and worse, his singing. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t that bad a singer, but if I told him that, he’d sing more often. And he always got way too into it. 

We were finishing up a hilarious and passionate rendition of ‘Dear Maria, Count Me In’ when we pulled into the mall parking lot. “Alright, I’m going to Office Depot. You guys message me when you’re done. And Brent?”

“Yeah?”

“Send me pics. I’m the one that has to wear those monkey suits for work every day,” Dad pulled his phone out of his back pocket, along with his wallet. “I’m gonna send you $150 — suits can be so expensive. Jeanie, do me a favor and take this,” he continued, yanking a crumpled $50 out of his wallet. “Hate carrying cash.”

 Well I loved it, especially if it was free.

We separated, Dad going off to buy office supplies while Brent and I headed for the food court. “What about Miami?” Brent randomly asked. 

I snorted. “What, the coke capital of America? Dad would not take us there,” 

“I just really want to have a summer Christmas,” Brent sighed. “White Christmas’ get old.” 

Like a lightbulb, an idea popped up in my head. “Do you think Dad would do Hawaii?” 

“Hawaii?” Brent thought about it, a smile growing wide on his face with every second that passed. “That would be so cool.”

“Right?” I spun to face him, walking backwards. “Sandy beaches, good weather,”

“Probably a couple good trails,” Brent added. “I could try surfing again,”

“Volcanoes! That’d be awesome!” 

He nodded. Hawaii. The best Christmas present. “We’ll talk to Dad about it, yeah. I like that idea.” 

And knowing Dad, he would say yes. Man loved the beach. 

We met up with Theresa and Tommy, managing to pull the two lovebirds apart for a while to go our separate ways. Theresa was quickly informed of our Christmas gift, the possibility of spending it in the ocean breeze, and immediately insisted we try to find a good few dresses for it — which I’d be down for, if it wasn’t the middle of December. 

But goddamn, if the woman wasn’t a magician. Swear her New Marais roots came with some voodoo magic. She pulled me into a Booker’s, finding a sundress in their clearance rack that I immediately fell in love with; it was peach, with white flowers, an asymmetrical skirt flowing down to my ankles. 

Or it would, if I put it on. But it was 32 degrees and I liked being warm. Couldn’t help but imagine how beautiful it’d look though. 

“So, do you want it?” She asked, curls bouncing in excitement. “I swear if you don’t get it I will,” 

I laughed, “Yeah, I’ll get it, jeez.” 

Post-register, Theresa dragged me from the Booker’s to a hair care stall, talking to the vendor about their options for moisturizing dreads overnight since she was thinking about getting them back in. I scuffed my shoe and looked around a bit before breaking in boredom, telling her I’d be back after grabbing a snack. They had a Cinnabon in here somewhere, I know they did. I could smell ‘em. 

Like a leopard on the hunt, I followed my nose, the prize surprisingly far from where I left Theresa. Either the batch was fresh, its aroma floating freely through the near-abandoned mall, or I was a fatass. It was more than likely the latter, though. It’s a wonder how I stayed a decent weight, to be honest. 

The mall was huge, two stories and multiple wings — meaning they also had more than one food court. At least, they had a few pseudo ones, a stall selling pretzels or those little ice cream dots right next to a specialty food store. Like the Cinnabon I was after. I ordered my own treat and drink, with enough cash left over from Theresa’s deal hunting to get her her own stuff, messaging her to meet me at the seating by the stall in the mall’s walkway so we could chow down. 

‘K, almost done’ she messaged back. 

So that meant I probably had 15 minutes. 

I shed my jacket and hung it on my chair, hopping on my phone to watch some videos as I waited. I loved Theresa, but her perception of time absolutely sucked; the only reason she got here at a decent time was because Tommy drove. She had a chronic issue with being fashionably late, which meant I was often left to my own devices. 

So I was well versed in passing time on my own, watching some VClipz of people’s realistic speed drawings and hoping that I’d absorb their talent through some wild form of osmosis. I’d glance up on occasion, looking around for Theresa and hoping that maybe this’d be one of those times she actually was timely accurate — but no dice. It was just me, the Cinnabon worker, and these two dudes in all black tracksuits sort of meandering about, taking window-shopping very seriously by not stepping into a single store. 

15 minutes had already passed with no signs of Theresa, and I sighed, opening my Cinnabon. No use in letting it get cold. I ate away absentmindedly, watching more VClipz and biting on the food, moving to pick up my drink and take a gulp. 

And of course, in my reasonably clumsy ways, I managed to set my drink down on the stack of napkins, it immediately keeling over and spilling onto my lap. 

“Son of a—“ I groaned, scooping up my phone before the soda could soak it. Of course I’d spill food on myself. Could never eat without making a mess. The Cinnabon worker, an absolute saint, rushed over with her mop, a spray bottle in the other hand and a dish rag over her shoulder. “I can clean this, why don’t you go clean off? I can watch your things.” 

“You sure? I don’t want to be a bother—“ 

“It’s fine,” she assured me. “If you go around this corner, there’s a restroom along this wall,” she said, pointing past the Cinnabon and to the junction of the next breezeway. 

I thanked her, waddling my cold crotch to the bathroom and trying my best to sop up the mess with paper towels. That did nothing for the stickiness, though, and I absolutely hated being sticky. Did I have enough money left to maybe get some new pants? I pulled out my wallet, partially to count my cash and also to make sure my stuff was salvaged from my Diet Coke when the door to the women's restroom opened. 

And in walked a man. 

He was immediately recognizable; one of the two dudes that were window shopping, in an Adiad tracksuit that seemed way too thin for the middle of winter. He had black hair, a scar running along his forehead, and a fucking gun in his hand. 

I spun around, dropping my wallet on the ground and lifting my hands to show there was nothing. All I had, every bit of the $17 and some change left over, was scattered across the tile of the restroom, a quarter running away from the confrontation. “Please,” I begged, my blood running ice cold as he raised the hand with the gun. This was it. I was going to die over $17 fucking dollars. 

But instead, he swung the gun at me, the butt of it slamming against the top of my head and making my vision swim. 

I stumbled into the sink counter, slamming my lower back against it. The pain in my spine joined the pain in my head as both throbbed, forcing me to brace myself against the counter so I didn’t collapse on the spot. 

And I admit it; I began crying. Why wouldn’t I? There was a random guy in here beating me with a fucking gun. He raised his hand again, swinging the gun down to hit me in my head once more.

And this time, my vision faded out.

[jarateblog]

Mase and I took the kids to the fair the other night... Guess who's joined the family

I scored him and a couple other plushies for them with my excellent aim in darts 😎😎 The lady running the booth was really nice with us too.

We got to try some rides but I admittedly felt weak after one of the really spinny ones 😵. I don't know how well I can handle that stuff anymore. The kids spent a lot of time doing one of the coin pusher games, something Mase feared after his experience last year. They're on the path to an early gambling addiction!! (I'm jk, though those games definitely don't require much skill compared to something you aim at).

However... I've got some concerns about the fair, below the cut, if anyone's curious...

So, there were numerous (at least 3, probably 5 or more) Republican stands promoted throughout the fair, not including the typical military recruitment shit you see everywhere in this fucking country. Many seemed to be selling/giving away t-shirts, stickers, and buttons promoting you know who. Some of them were openly vulgar in their designs. Like, 18+. Middle fingers with the text "YOU MISSED" (regarding the other week, that didn't take long 🙄), or, just unrelated misogynistic shirts calling wives bitches or whatever (the "women. amiright, fellas" types of shirts). Others, that were related to trump, were selling the idea of 'fake news,' acknowledging or downplaying his crimes, etc., all in the styles of 'memey' propaganda you can picture from this decade.

Now, I know I'm fucking biased. But.

This is a place where KIDS are encouraged to go to have fun. There are often more kids than there are adults, especially if you're considering teenagers - none of whom are in any position to vote. Yet, this blatant political propaganda is thrown into their face immediately upon entry (because the rides are in the back). I saw kids appearing like 12-15 wearing these shirts and buttons and I'm thinking wtf??

And yes, I'd be saying the same thing if they were Democratic booths. I am particularly focused on the lenience given on the type of merch they were allowed to sell, or the fact these booths were so highly politicized.

It's not that I'm necessarily concerned about kids seeing pictures with middle fingers and the possibility of them copying it (I wasn't a saint at that age), it's just... we have the term "family-friendly" for a reason. We shouldn't have such openly vulgar content available for their eyes within reading distance. For as much as conservatives can claim that queer people are innately predatory, sexual, or vulgar, this is an extremely hypocritical showcase for their message.

Of course, I'm only wearing shorts that end just above my knees and mascara and got looks from those people. I'm more than "tame" enough for the occasion but still pose a threat to their comfort and ideology. Thankfully, I saw many other openly queer people throughout my day. I've been seeing other queer folks more obviously presenting themselves in public, which I think is quite evocative of the rising tensions within our country. This upcoming election stresses me out.

But, why can they do this? Because they threw some money in a fund for the fair or something? I wonder if it's even legal and no one's said anything, or if I'm just missing something. Like, is not the use of 18+ material troublesome enough? Or even just the blatant, neo-fascistic propaganda?

I'm done ranting. But, I'm just so disgusted. Thankfully our group was too young to be concerned of it, but Mase and I were sharing our frustrations a lot throughout the day.

[sleepfiles]

So this is how liberty dies... with thunderous applause.

An essay written in 2022, immediately following the results of the 2022 Philippine presidential elections.

There is no better line that captures the absolute dystopian fear of reality— the new era of another Marcos presidency, than the aforementioned line from George Lucas' Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of The Sith. Perhaps dystopia is no longer a mere reach in popular young adult fiction novels, it is now here, in actuality. The Philippines has entered a state of dystopia; with the added timing of the pandemic, everything does feel a bit post-apocalyptic dystopian. Hope is fleeting, everything is in a state of chaos. I have abandoned my absurdist optimism in surrender to the hopelessness of a nihilist community. Excuse my language, but honestly, what the fuck are we doing?

I have long since accepted that corruption will feed its way into politics no matter what. It's a given. There are money-hungry and power-grabbing individuals who will always fight their way to the top. It has gone on since time immemorial, corruption is a sin as old as Eden. But I had liked to think that we, the human race, have since evolved from that primitive greed and have since then become alert in driving out the corrupt in our very authority. History proves this thought, with countless rebellions and revolutions that have occurred in fighting for freedom, independence, justice, and equality. We are a nation constantly building towards change. And with the Philippines being considered a democratic country, the majority has the ruling power to decide for themselves what is just and truly fit to be placed in a position of power. We have the power to elect competent public servants and drive away the corrupt; what do we do? We severely misuse our democracy. Famous philosopher Plato heavily dismays democracy. While I do not agree with his advocacy for aristocracy, and I very much prefer democracy myself, I do understand his grievances with the political system. It is unstable, and there is a very large chance that the democratic man only has concerns for himself rather than the entire state. The vital flaw in Philippine democracy is that the majority possess collective ignorance. That is how tyranny wins, with the support of the ignorant.

The entire campaign period, the elections, and the succeeding week after that passed by like the aftermath of a dystopian society. There was unending uncertainty, which is still carried on today. I think my biggest complaint regarding the entire fiasco was that how did we, as a society, ever allow another Marcos to run for the presidency? Let alone a Marcos who has repeatedly uplifted the atrocities done by his father and has done nothing to compensate for the injustices. Other than that, this Marcos— this man, was nowhere near possessing the charm nor the intelligence possessed by the well-known fascists or dictators he seemingly tries to emulate. This man has barely any impressive credentials, no clear platform, no promising or concrete plans for the country. So, how did he win?

The ignorant majority might be the easiest people to blame. Those who do not know better than to believe fake news, with jagged morals, and pride higher than the mountains. But who's at fault for the ignorance basked onto the majority? There is a reason the corrupt have managed to stay in power in this country because they know what to target: education. Slipping lies into history, repeatedly allowing and even disseminating fake news, and turning deaf ears to the pleas for bettering the awful Philippine education system. They do everything and anything to make sure that the majority stays ignorant. Because when they are, they are easier to manipulate. And I'm sick of it.

I am tired of bad governance. Exiting Vice President Leni Robredo was there. The first Presidential candidate in decades that harbors the quality of not only a competent but also a compassionate leader. My observation of previous elections was that people always seem to be cornered into voting for the lesser evil. Not because they were genuinely a promising candidate, but simply because they seemed the most harmless out of the roster. But not VP Leni. She was the light at the end of the tunnel. A beaming ray of hope in the dark alleyways of the country. That's the most frustrating part, I suppose. That we were so close to attaining good governance and we just threw it away for the worst-case scenario: the son of a dictator. It felt crushing. It was as if all light was bricked up, and suddenly it was no longer a tunnel. We're in an impossible labyrinth of injustice and disinformation. No real progress was to be ever grasped again.

But of course, that's just the pessimist in me. It may feel like my entire future was robbed entirely because of the election results, but the rational part of my brain knows that the fight is not over. I have to constantly assure myself that the fight is not over. We, the people, the country, aking minamahal na Pilipinas, are always worth the fight. It is not hopeless because whenever there are people, there is hope. As a citizen of the nation, I must take it upon myself to do whatever I can. For now, all I can do is remain educated. Pursue my education, no matter how long it takes, because it will provide me with opportunities to do something meaningful. It doesn't have to change the world or the country even, but one small step in helping to better the lives of the people will always go a long way. We have to channel this disappointment into organized thought, into a drive towards working for a better tomorrow. We fight in whatever way we can: in the classroom, in the streets, in correcting that disinformation posted on social media, in informing our outdated relatives. Liberty has died with thunderous applause by the goons seated comfortably in their towers, now it is our duty to reclaim it.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bex. Bex, Bex, Bex!!!!! When I saw your requests were open I nearly lost my mind <3

So, Buddy and Sam; we all know 'em, we all love 'em. I'm in desperate need for Mean!Poly!Camping Boys over here. Like, mean. Besides that I don't really have anything specific in mind besides a little bit of knife play (because it's me we're talking about) and possibly some predator/prey dynamics >:) You'd destroy me in the best way if Sam was the meaner one out of the pair too!

Anyways, I love you and hope you're doing well!!!!

Oh B! Now this is a fucking amazing prompt! It’s been a while since I have written the boys and a while since I have treated you so I feel like this is necessary and important! So I decided to elect to do something we have been sorely missing thus far! Poly!Camping Boys! Killer edition! That is right! Metal Kill and the Wood Carver at once babe! Also yes I am doing well and I love you too so much for suggesting this so! Let’s fucking GO!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 1.9K. Metal Killer/Buddy Swanson And The Wood Carver/Sam Wescott X GN! AFAB! Reader! Poly!Camping KILLER Boys! Warnings! Murder. Blood. Gore. Canon Violence. Chase. Fear Play. Predator/Prey. Knife Play. Hitting. Spanking. Man Handling. Rough Treatment. Rough Sex. Vaginal Sex. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Threesome. Spit Roast. A-Frame. Throat Fucking. Gagging. Swallowing. Vaginal Fingering. Messy. Blood Play. Outdoor Sex. Forced Orgasm. Multiple Orgasms. Overstimulation. Taunting. Teasing. Pet Names. Bastard Boys. Groping. Dub Con. Threat Of Death.

—

Run Rabbit, Run.

—

You were completely terrified.

How long have you been running for?

It felt like hours of sprinting and hiding and hunkering but you weren’t out of the woods yet, literally, you were in the forest around Camp Clear Vista right now, trying to lay low and be quiet. You were excited for camp, had attended camps in your youth and as soon as you were old enough to start giving back as a counsellor you did so, this was going to be your first year at Camp Clear Vista since your old one closed down. The guy who interviewed you, whose family owned the camp, Sam, was seemingly a really nice guy, if not a little nervous. 

It started great, your fellow counsellors were nice, a good eclectic group of young adults all around your age, all interested and invested in giving the kids a good summer and having a lot of fun while you did it. The first day was spent working on clean up and maintenance, when night fell you all had dinner and ended up around the fire, spooky stories were told and you didn’t pay the tale of the Wood Carver any mind. People wanted to go hunt down the mask and you tagged along because it was better than being alone but that was all hours ago.

Hours before you discovered the first body.

Apparently the Wood Carver was in fact very fucking real. 

More than that there was someone else running around too, white and black mask, long black trench coat and big combat boots and what was one crazed killer not enough?!

That is what led to you hiding like this in the woods from them. You had gotten separated from the few counsellors you were with and so you figured if you were smart, stayed low and hidden and made it to morning, just to sunrise, you would be okay. At least that is what you kept telling yourself, you had to believe it, because what choice did you have otherwise?

They had been pursuing you earlier, you had to fight hard to lose them, there were some close calls, moments where you felt finger tips skim your arms or legs they were so close to getting you but you managed to wriggle away, somehow. All that fight and want to live probably has something to do with it. 

You hadn’t heard or seen from them in a while and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. The nerves refused to leave, you were totally on edge, even after all the hard work you did today, you would normally be totally beat but you were so wired there was no way you could sleep now.

Or so you thought. 

You had been sitting in between some bushes, back leaning against a tree so you only had to be concerned with whatever came at you from in front, which would have worked great if you hadn’t dozed off. 

You were woken up rudely, roughly, two sets of hands on you and you had barely registered what was happening as you were hauled up and out from your hiding spot. 

It happens so fast, you can barely register it, eyes struggle to focus as you are tugged forward, pulled through the treeline, exposed knees dragged along sticks and rocks and dirt. You come through the trees, and can see the cabins in the distance, the shorter grass, the air more open, more light from the camp ground and the moon above. The sound of heavy footsteps and breathing filling your ears, you are shoved to the ground, on your back and you feel those strong hands holding you to him, your back to a broad chest. 

Sharp and cold steel is pressed to your throat, your eyes snap up, it was like you were wide awake, immediately and startlingly sober. Your heart was pounding as you looked up into the black and white mask, couldn’t make out the eyes clearly staring you down, a black leather glove clad hand was fisted in your shirt, keeping you in place, as if you could move with the hands holding you down. 

You had been caught and not just by one of them, no it seems by both of them. 

“Finally caught the bad little bunny rabbit. You give surprisingly good chase, you know that?” The man in front of you taunted and you tensed further, as if that was possible. “Wasn’t expecting you to be so speedy but we still got you.”

That knife dragged slowly, allowed you to feel how sharp it was without breaking the skin and you shivered even though the summer heat was so strong it made your clothes stick to you with sweat. “Must have tired yourself out, I couldn’t believe when we found you asleep like that, almost made it too easy.” 

Fuck, You were in such trouble, how would you get out of this with your life?

A stupid and quiet question leaves your too dry lips, “What are you going to do with me?”

The one brandishing the blade laughs, too hard and too long, you squirm and that knife is pressed closer as his laughter dies. “Awe come on. You’re smart.” 

That knife moves, it catches the strap of your tank top and is cut in one swift motion and at that same moment the hands on your shoulders drag down your hips. They hold firm and move your ass so you feel how undeniably hard your captor was now that you were in his lap, a hard grind against you. The one before you leaned in and said in that low voice, “Figure it out.”

You got the hint real fucking quick. 

Sex outside was something that was on your bucket list for camp this summer. This wasn’t how you expected it to happen. You weren’t expecting your clothing to be cut and ripped off, to be shoved onto your hands and knees, split from both ends. A threesome wasn’t something you had been ever actively planning on but you wouldn’t be closed off to it, it happening now was a lot to handle, especially when they were both so rough, so forceful.

The one in the black and white mask, with the leather gloves, who’d been holding the knife was the much more talkative one. The other one behind you, stronger, wearing that wooden mask you had heard from the campfire story, apparently true by the way, that was still something you were contending with, was almost silent. You could hear faint and weird whispers, harsh breathing and grunts of effort, two hands on your waist, locked tight, bruises being surely marked into your skin as he fucked into you. There was barely a courtesy spit, a cursory plunge of his fingers a few times before he was shoving inside and bottoming out. 

Gloved hand in your hair, knife to your cheek and the other was in your mouth and the brutal pace and rhythm was set. While the one currently balls deep inside of you didn’t seem to be one for words, he didn’t need to speak to destroy you. He held no weapon but was more violent than his theatrical counterpart. Pawed and pulled you back with such force, had no care for the sounds of protest you made, minimal because of the dick in your mouth, gagging you, seemed you trying to squirm away or the pain you showed fuels him and pushed him further. 

And the worst part of all of this.

Worse than the pain, than your knees getting scuffed up, than you nearly choking and barely able to breathe as your mouth is fucked?

You were loving this.

All of it. 

You always thought the people you fucked treated you too delicately but you always held back voicing what you really wanted for fear of scaring them off or seeming pushy or too much. But now? You were getting every filthy fucking itch scratched perfectly. The blade had cut your cheek, warm scarlet sliding down soft skin and it makes the man above you hiss and push harder into you, quicker, clearly getting close, the sight of your blood drawn by him exciting him that much more. 

You swallow around the head of his cock and his pace falters and with a curse and a few more short thrusts he is cumming, painting your tongue and you eagerly drink him back just as fast as the mess spills out. He lingers in your mouth for a moment before pulling out, his hand leaves your hair and he sits back on his knees, “Fuck, I knew you’d take it like a dream.”

He was out of breath, panting, you could see the makeup and paint that covered his skin not shielded by the mask was a mess, running a little from the sweat and exertion.

You weren’t done however. The killer behind you only slowed slightly when his cohort was cumming, didn’t stop, but slowed, however now he picked up the pace. His hand meets the back of your head and he pushes you, face down in the dirt and ass up he pounded you harder and you moan incoherently into the dirt. His hand is on the side of your face, fingers press into the fresh wound, more blood weeps and you hiss out in pain and clench around him tighter, agony and bliss mix and become near indistinguishable. You feel sore, you feel elated, you feel tired, you feel better than ever, you want to sleep for a year, you never want it to stop. 

“God he is really giving it to you. Guy has a lot of pent up aggression, clearly.” Taunted the man kneeling before you and almost as if to drive the point home a firm smack on your ass makes you yelp. 

Bloody and dirty fingers move down, shove into your mouth, confront you with the taste, assault your senses further as he has you. How your legs are still managing to hold you up is a mystery, you should be totally collapsing but nothing about this night or this made sense, you just held on. 

More groping, rough pinches of your nipples, nails scratch down your sides, more firm hits to your ass and thighs and pulls of your hair and you have lost track of the orgasms he has forced out of you during this. His companion keeps talking as he watches, more dirty talk and taunting and you can barely focus on his words over all the pure feeling you are going through. He was so harsh it made his friend seem almost tender and gentle in compairson as you are overstimulated near your limit.

You swear he hadn’t even been inside you that long but you had been craving this treatment for so long it didn’t take long for the orgasms to start and not stop. 

When he cums it is deep inside, holding to the hilt and when he does pull out, you do fall fully into the dirt. You are totally out of breath and have no fight when he fingers your abused hole and rubs the mess of blood and dirt and him and you on your messy cheeks, making you fully confront what the pair had subjected you to. 

Just when you thought you might have done it and saved yourself, had satisfied them as well as yourself, you hear the sound of metal being unsheathed and you knew you had no strength left to run.

You close your eyes and wait for penetration of a different kind than what you had just experienced. 

[stellocchia]

Okay, now that I have a bit of time it’s time to analize that disaster of a custody battle stream, also known as Tommy and Wilbur visiting Las Nevadas!

As always this is gonna be quite long so I’ll put everything under the cut and remember that I’ll only be talking about the characters. Also for the dialogues the colors are: Quackity, Tommy and Wilbur

One thing that I would like to point out before we get into it is that c!Tommy is pretty much spiraling throughout this stream (he dissociates and shows his suicidal tendencies more clearly) so it’s good to keep this in mind when analizing his actions and words. 

First of all here’s Wilbur’s pov of it: Wilbur's POV

And here’s Tommy’s: Tommy's POV

I’ll be using both for this.

One thing that is immediately interesting to notice is that, despite supposedly living with Phil we mostly see Wilbur around L’Manhole.

“Have you been sewing? Knitting? That can be a dangerous sport if done too quickly” (just wanted to point out the tailor!Tommy bit)

So first of all is the confirmation that the stone never had a use beyond keeping Tommy occupied back when Wilbur asked for it. The task of gathering the stone could also have been a test on Wilbur’s part to test Tommy’s obedience considering that it was a tedious and apparently sensless task that most people would not have taken on.

Afterwards we have an interesting little bit where Wilbur demonstrates that he is still extremely knowledgable when it comes to tnt, knowing which blocks are more resistent to it and even being able to deduce that the ufo was blown up from the inside (something he’ll lie about later). 

“Someone’s a little copycat. Hey tommy someone’s a little copycat~” (in reference to what happened to Purpled’s ufo. This could be interpreted as derogatory we’ll have to see if Wilbur appreciates someone imitating his work)

Quackity’s book is then introduced, though at first Wilbur is very vague about it’s contents before straight up lying about them (saying that it said: “My dearest friend Wilbur, I’ve really missed seeing you, come to project Nevadas your best friend Quackity”), here’s the actual contents of it:

It is possible that he didn’t mention the actual content to Tommy because he was afraid Tommy would have kept him from meeting Quackity if he knew that he seemingly agreed with Wilbur’s ideology, though this is just a theory. 

Another interesting thing is that Wilbur keeps referring to Ghostbur’s resurrection site as his “tombstone” despite Tommy having already told him last time that he didn’t get one. Perhaps this is a show of Wilbur’s own fear of being forgotten or of having been inconsequential to the bigger narrative (his continued search for the confirmation that he did have a big impact would seem to point to this).

“Will, I’m accustomed to people lying to me. Just tell me: will the book, whatever is in there, bring us more primes?” (this is an interesting way for Tommy to let Wilbur know that he knows he’s lying while still trying to keep the conversation more light herted)

On their way to Las Nevadas there is an interesting instance of Wilbur standing still near a creeper instead of trying to protect himself so that Tommy has to intervene (similar instances happen multiple times throughout the stream) which could be a portrayal of his self-destructive tendencies and kinda mirrors Tommy's behaviour in exile. 

“Every person we’ve spoken to aside from say, I don’t know, Jack Manifold. Every person aside from Jack Manifold has taken a bit of a disliking to me. Oh and Phil, Phil was lovely too, and you actually! Come to think of it the 3 people I care about most, Jack Manifold, you and Phil, have been the nicest to me”

There are a few things I wanna say here: first of all there is one manipulation tactic that consists of making yourself out to be the victim in a certain situation in order to gain pity, sympathy or evoke compassion in the other and that’s what Wilbur has been doing both in this stream and in the past when mentioning that people hate him despite every single person he met (aside from Tommy himself) actually being rather kind and accomodating. This does probably come from Wilbur’s own self-hatred and his view of himself as a villain but, once again, I would like to remind you that manipulation is still manipulation even if you believe in what you’re saying. 

The second point I wanted to talk about briefly was the line about only caring about the 3 people he mentioned. Aside from how truthful he is about all 3 of them (I’m sorry but I have a hard time believing that he cares deeply for Jack Manifold when he didn’t even used to remember who he was) he also later mentions that there are other people he would like to see, basically it’s like the L’Manburg situation: just because Wilbur says he doesn’t care about something it doesn’t mean that it’s true.

“They told me it was like a small little town where Big Q sells funny potions and liquids from his van” (so from Tommy’s understanding Las Nevadas was a mix between the drug van and og L’Manburg. I wonder if we’ll find out who gave him this idea)

Little note about Wilbur throwing Linda (Tommy’s prized shovel) away twice during this stream almost casually.

“Tommy stand back. Tommy stand back” (Wilbur interposing himself between Tommy and a situation that might be dangerous, I’ll talk about this a bit later but keep it in mind)

“I’ll tell you what: it’s nice to see you out of that stupid vice president shirt. You know I never thought you were fit for that vice president thing anyway, I think that this is- this is- what- what are you like the concierge of this area? Like the cleaner?” “This is so nice!” “I don’t know what to call it Wilbur all I know is that this is my place. This is mine. I own this place”

It is interesting to note that Wilbur apparently did not think too highly of Quackity, immediately assuming he must be and employee rather then having a leading position, he even expresses that he didn’t think Quackity was fit to even be vice president. It’s also interesting to point out that Tommy gets immediately uncomfortable with where the conversation is going and splits off from the two to explore while also being extra obnoxious in an attempt to split up the fight he knew to be coming (he is always rather perceptive), to which Quackity responds only with amusement (actually humouring Tommy), while Wilbur simply ignores it for the time being. 

“If I’d known there was a place I could align myself to as quickly as this I would have done it sooner” (could be both a search for community as well as him generally prefering being aligned to a country as he comments later on that he’s not a fan of anarchy by mentioning that him and Phil don’t see eye to eye on this)

This is when Wilbur brings up Quackity’s book for the second time mentioning that he assumed it was an invite to joing Quackity in Las Nevadas, which turns out it wasn’t. 

“So that’s the invitation to work alongside you I assume, I- I accept. I accept. I’d love to come in” “Big Q I also wanted... can I move into the big- the big penis?” “*laugh* No Tommy. Wilbur, Wilbur” “Yeah?” “No? No?” “That was... that was not an invitation I’m sorry Wilbur” *Wilbur checks the book again* “That’s not an invitation. Wilbur, Wilbur, my nation will not be subject to your... unpredictability, alright? Thank you so much for coming, thank you so much for visiting Wilbur but, uhm... I don’t need any- I don’t need any extra members right now” 

So taking this conversation a bit at a time: Quackity is the first person since Wilbur has come back (aside from Tommy, but Tommy’s opinion really doesn’t matter to Wilbur) who hasn’t tried to accomodate him. He set his own rules and stuck by them not willing to budge on it at all. Also it is interesting to note that Quackity so far doesn’t seem to be interested in letting Tommy join either, only changing his demeanour later after Tommy calls Wilbur out on his lying. This change of mind could both be tied to a crack he noticed in Tommy’s loyalty to Wilbur as well as done to spite Wilbur himself. Or both really. 

“[Las Nevadas] It’s like one of those visions you have after being in the mines for several hours” (Tommy mentioning having hallucinations once again)

“No... no, you’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got it all wrong man. Okay okay, maybe, maybe I was unprdictable in the past” “But it’s really nice...” “But I’ve turned over a new leaf Quackity! I don’t lie anymore, I don’t- I don’t, you know, I don’t deceive, I know nothing about tnt anymore. I’ve forgotten everything I knew about tnt, it’s ridiculous I-” “*snicker* Ok- mmm, well... Will, well” “Is he lying Tommy?”

Also here we have a clearer example of Wilbur lying and deceiving right after asserting that he doesn’t do it anymore (he deceived Tommy on the book and lied about his knowledge on tnt) together with Tommy calling him out on it.

“This is the best place on the server! This is like heaven! Paradise!” “Quackity we can stay, right?” “You seem to like it a lot Tommy” 

Immediately afterwards there’s where Quackity seems to change his mind about letting Tommy stay while also ignoring Wilbur in the process. Again we really don’t have any definitive indication for the reason why he changes his mind, it could be because he saw how much Tommy liked it here as much as it could be to spite Wilbur. Any conclusion for either is pure speculation.

“Quackity look at me, look at me in the eyes. I. Am. Your. Servant. I am at your service. I have run countries, I’ve won elections, I’ve done everything that you will need in a leadership role, Quackity. Even not in leadership! I can- I can be, you know, assistent to president”

Another less known form of manipulation. Wilbur wants power within this new country so he offers to cover a more “subservient” position to have Quackity let his guard down so that he can achieve his role. 

“Will this is so cool!” “Tommy SHUT UP!” “Hey! What a fu- hey what a fuck?!” (a bit of Wilbur’s “affable” persona slipping away paired up with Tommy immediately noticing that that was not okay and calling Wilbur out on it)

“Wilbur listen to me: I saw what you did to L’Manburg and I’m not letting Las Nevadas have the same fate as L’Manburg. I appreciate Tommy here, I appreciate you checking this place out Wilbur but, I don’t need your services, I don’t need your presence, you’re very unpredictable” (Quackity once more standing his ground and repeating that he does not trust Wilbur in the slightest and also reaffirming that he does want Tommy there instead)

It’s interesting to notice that all throughout this exchange, while Tommy was off exploring Quackity was the one often paying attention to him while Wilbur ignored him the whole time before snapping.

“So we’re not allowed?” “Tommy, I need to talk to you Tommy” “Am I allowed? Or is it just Will?” “Well, I’d love to discuss it with you” (Quackity is the first person that actually directly addressed Tommy while ignoring Wilbur since Wilbur’s resurrection and that’s quite interesting. It could be that perhaps he noticed that Wilbur seems to consider Tommy almost like an extension of himself and that he tried to drive a wedge into that)

The next few minutes are spent with Wilbur trying to find out exactly where the confines of Las Nevadas are.

“Tommy come with me. Tommy at my side please” (addressing him like a soldier again)

There is a back and forth between Wilbur and Quackity where Quackity tries to deflect Wilbur’s question about his ownership of the adiacent forest multiple times, but Wilbur does end up finding out that it’s not Quackity’s land. (Wilbur also has a throwaway comment about that forest being Paradise in response to Tommy calling Las Nevadas that which Tommy disagrees on).

“What’s the point in capitalism without healthy competition?” (Wilbur announcing he wants to create a country next to Quackity’s)

“Wait, where are you going?” “Just over here Tommy. Stay by my side, by my side” (once again an emphasis on wanting Tommy nearby, which isn’t new)

“You know what Wilbur? You’re right: capitalism strives on competition and I’m ready for all the competition you can bring me” (Wilbur is positively giddy at this declaration, which makes me think that he does truly see this competition mostly as a game)

“Will I don’t want to start a country, I very much like that country there” *Tommy points at Las Nevadas* “With the stone-” “Tommy we- we’ll discuss this in a minute” “No...” “No no no, Tommy seems to have some concerns about building a country from the ground up” (Tommy under) “Listen, listen, guys, guys, I was over there” (Quackity over) “So how about you take Tommy’s opinion into consideration? For once, for once in your life since you’ve never done so before” (Tommy under) “Can we please listen to me? You [Quackity] are not lis- you’re not lis- you’re actually speaking over me”

This is the first one of many conversations this stream where the fight has moved from the power pissing context Wilbur and Quackity had going on to Tommy. It’s also where they starting weaponizing him more and more (his traumas as well as the other’s treatment of him) while each trying to prove that they’re better for him then the other. Of course this isn’t actually about Tommy, it’s about power once again. Quackity has undeniably noticed by now how Wilbur treats Tommy (aka as an extension of himself) together with being pissed that Wilbur challenged him on his own territory (challenging Las Nevadas which is Quackity’s most prized possession) so he decided to repay him in kind. 

From here on out Tommy seems to spiral more, standing up for himself less, looking more and more uncomfortable (especially when the other two start bringing up his traumatic experiences) and slipping back into dissociation and self-loathing behaviour.

“You showed great interest for my country Tommy and I would like to speak to you about that” “Yes” “Wilbur I don’t think you’ll hold Tommy down and make him join your country” “I have utter fate that Tommy will make the right decision” (both of them starting to put pressure on him, subtly influencing him with their wording) 

Tommy and Quackity have a chat together alone (though Wilbur is listening in). 

First thing that happens is Quackity bringing up the hotel which Wilbur implies later was done maliciously, though we don’t know if Quackity knew that the ownership of it didn’t go back to Tommy once he came back to life.

Afterwards Tommy asks Quackity about his scar. 

“If I’m gonna speak to you I want you to be honest with me, ‘cause I’ve spent quite a lot of time with people who just bullshit me, they lie to me and I’m not doing that anymore” (this is one of Tommy’s 2 priorities in life right now. What he wants can be boiled down to honesty and safety)

Quackity does explain honestly what happened, though the information that they spent their time hunting down Techno while Tommy was in exile instead of trying to help him does understandably upset Tommy quite a bit. (Also Wilbur finally makes himself a sword).

“But if this [butcher army] was while I was in exile you’re meaning to tell me that you put in all of the effort to kill Techno instead of helping me?” (...) “You know I needed help and no one came to see me” (this set back his mentality regarding exile quite a bit I’d guess. The anger is more then understandable)

Quackity doesn’t deny the accusations but he does deflect a bit saying that they can talk about it another time and that he is not Tommy’s enemy to which Tommy agrees.

“How would you like to run the official food business of Las Nevadas” (this is Quackity’s big offer for Tommy)

(Wilbur putting pressure on Tommy in the meantime)

After this Wilbur intervenes directly inquiring on wether or not they were done. Quackity tries to get in a last minute sale pitch to Tommy who is getting quite overwhelmed and asks for some time to think (which he is now given by Quackity, but not later by Wilbur)

Wilbur also expresses worry for Tommy’s safety while they’re coming back, though how sincere it is it’s unknown (I think it's at least partially sincere worry, but I doubt that's all there is to it). That said I want to say that multiple times in this stream Wilbur has seemingly shown to be protective of Tommy when it comes to Quackity, often almost treating him as if he was incapable of defending himself (as if he couldn’t 1v2 the two of them easily). For example here, even though Tommy said that he can take care of himself Wilbur immediately responds out loud with an: “okay I’m coming” and bringing out his sword.

“Listen Tommy I heard what he was saying to you man and you don’t seriously believe that do you?” (keeping the question very open so that Tommy can interject his own doubts. Also Quackity technically didn’t lie once to Tommy and, while there was a bit of deflection on his part so far he hasn’t been all that manipulative if I’m being honest)

Wilbur proceeds to tell Tommy that if he stays with Quackity he’ll be nothing more then a caterer (strongly implying that that’s not something he wants) and Tommy chimes in saying that that’s not for him.

“Listen Tommy I’m not gonna stop you but, I’ll be honest with you man, you’re all I’ve got” (set up for the guilt tripping later as well as once again putting himself in the position of the victim so that Tommy won’t leave him. Also he denies that Jack and Phil count as well because the first is too busy and he doesn’t agree with the political views of the latter)

“I wanna make a place where we can be safe for once. Tommy it’s been so long since we felt safe and man you deserve it. You’ve been through so much, you’ve done so much, Tommy you’ve changed the world! And all you’ve got to show for it is some scars and some trauma. Tommy you deserve this safety and this sanctuary and that’s why I wanna make it with you and you won’t get it over there”

Now this should sound familiar to quite a few people, mostly because it’s pretty similar to the tactic that Quackity himself uses. First identify the victim’s vulnerabilities and their desires (Tommy only wants 2 things and only one is connected to physical places so safety it is). Second relate to the victims experiences repeating that they do deserve to get what they so desperately want (check back Quackity’s conversation with Fundy if you want to see that done really well). And lastly emphasise that you’re the only one who can give them what they want.

“You know what has substance Tommy? Family. Blood” (what sparked back the canon sbi discourse)

“I haven’t- I don’t wanna make my mind now ‘cause it’s- it feels like-” “Tommy you need to make your mind now” (putting a ton of pressure onto Tommy, enough that Tommy is reminded of his time in prison)

“Tommy I love a challenge” (considering the context and the fact that this is in response to Tommy hesitating on who to join this is most definitely about him. Wilbur definitely still considers this, at least partially, part of his and Quackity’s game)

“If you pick Las Nevadas what am I gonna do? Man, what am I gonna do? I’d never hurt you. I’d never want anything bad for you Tommy” (mixing in a bit of guilt tripping with a bit of lies. Now, it’s probably not a lie that he wouldn’t want something bad for Tommy, but the thing about never hurting him? I mean, this stream is a proof of the cotrary)

“You can go with whatever you want, but just know what you’d do to me” (once again painting himself as the victim while guilt tripping Tommy)

“I put a lot of things to the side that I shouldn’t of. I prioritized the wrong things, I put revenge over humanity. I guess all I’m seeking right now is someone who’ll be honest with me and a place where I can feel safe”

Here it is, we got Tommy’s desire spelled out by him. This is what makes him so vulnerable to Wilbur’s manipulation, the fact that Wilbur knows how to pretend that he can offer this. Also the first part of this is another recognition of how unhealthy his mindset was while he was with Technoblade, which makes him saying that he betrayed Techno and feels guilty about that afterwards even more sad because he recognizes that being with Techno was not good for him but still bashes himself over leaving him even if he really didn’t have any other choice if he wanted to stay true to himself. It’s quite tragic and it’s once more a show of his self-loathing. 

“This can be a safe place for them [Techno and Tubbo]” (Wilbur is using the informations Tommy provided him in a moment of open vulnerability to manipulate him further)

Tommy then agrees to stay with Wilbur though he seems far from enthusiastic about it. He seems to believe Wilbur when he says he's gonna make a safe space for him and the people he cares about, but also seems hesitant to fully trust him.

“Big Q is gonna wish he never fucked with me” (still in regard to challenging Wilbur’s perceived ownership of Tommy)

The stream is far from over though. After that conversation between Wilbur and Tommy they start to build a stone penis over the lake and Wilbur and Quackity get in a very heated argument that leaves Tommy incredibly uncomfortable. The whole conversation consists in Wilbur and Quackity shouting at each other about things the other has done to Tommy (all traumatic for him) while Tommy makes himself smaller and shuts down. First Qauckity accuses Wilbur of emotionally manipulating Tommy (which is true), then Wilbur accuses Quackity of using the hotel against Tommy (which wasn’t actually true) and they keep going like that. 

“The one thing [the hotel] Tommy’s tried to do was a failure” (way to undermine achievements like putting Dream behind bars there... however to be exact this is a manipulation tactic known as “shaming” which consists in undermining the victim’s worth to foster feelings of inadequacy which makes them more vulnerable. It’s a tactic Wilbur has used quite often since Pogtopia)

“Great job Wilbur of doing to Tomminnit what you’ve done your entire fucking life” (Quackity does sound actually upset) 

“Don’t try to compare me to you Wilbur, me and you are not the same” (this does align to Quackity’s desire to not live in other people shadows any longer)

“Hey hey hey hey, don’t come near Tommy, don’t come near Tommy” “Will, Will, hey hey, let me speak! This is about me so let me speak! I don’t know I-” “I just don’t want him to hurt you. I just don’t want him to hurt you” “I can fend for myself. You weren’t here for a long time. I thought, I thought you [Wilbur] were gonna make me feel a little bit safer, let me tell you now either of you-” “Fellas fellas” “No shut the fuck up! I didn’t feel- that didn’t make me feel- that was weird, I didn’t- don’t do that either of you” 

Now this is both Wilbur once again babying Tommy and treating him as if he’s not capable of taking care of himself (it could be done out of sincere care, but that doesn’t make it any less patronizing) and Tommy actually standing up for himself. Tommy made himself as little as possible during their confrontation and didn’t utter a word and now he finally got a bit of confidence back to say that he didn’t like that and both of them still tried to interrupt him. And Wilbur immediately went to say that he won’t do it again, but Quackity will as if he didn’t listen to a word Tommy just said. That said after that Quackity does apologize to Tommy specifically (though how sincere that was is debatable and Wilbur also accepts the apology as well even if it wasn’t directed at him) and invites the both of them to have a tour of Las Nevadas. Tommy wanted to refuse the tour because he was already visibly overwhelmed, but Wilbur ignores him and proceeds to accept anyway. 

“Quackity I wanna say from here on, as much as we may have our disagreements here man I- we gotta leave Tommy out of this” (they don’t)

“Tommy I’ll take it back, I’m fine with you working here and still being, you know, as long as you still hang out with me and don’t leave me on my own I have no problems with you working here man” (except they both already put an incredible amount of pressure on him and Will in partucular already made him feel guilty for even considering sort of leaving him)

“At the end of the day it’s okay Tommy, you make your own decisions, but let me keep showing you around the TommyInnit res- uh, I mean the restourant” (very sneaky there Quackity. Naming things creates attachment btw) 

Btw, Quackity and Wilbur are still very tense, but they both put their differences aside in a split second to get Tommy away from the strip club, which honestly is just funny. Also once again Wilbur goes before Tommy inside the casino in case it’s dangerous.

They then gamble for a bit and Tommy bets Linda away and looses it. They then go up in the white tower. 

“This would be such a good point to just jump off and just end it. Woah” “no no no Tommy get down!” “Tommy get down from the rail” (casual reminder that Tommy is still extremely suicidal, though at least this time there was someone there to get him down)

Quackity and Wilbur have a small conversation while Tommy is still checking out the view which mostly consist in Quackity trying to find out more about the Revival Book (while feigning complete ignorance about it). 

Meanwhile while dissociating Tommy puts down some water to the side of the tower and then jumps in it while taking it away (therefore technically jumipng off, but not dying because his fall was slowed down). Quackity notices and immediately panics, while Wilbur places some water down for him so he can get back up. 

“Tommy come here, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you” (both helping and emphasizing his wish for Tommy to depend on him as much as he does on Tommy)

After that they talk for a while and Quackity brings up the conversation that he had with Wilbur which is the moment Wilbur realizes that the “You were right” in the book was referring to the pre-Pogtopia him. Also Wilbur talks about the things he’s lost (years of his life and people are the two things he mentioned). 

“There’s lots of people I wish I could see. Like I wish I could just tell them ‘I’m alive’ and apologize and also thank them” (I do think he’s sincere, but it does make me a bit sad that Tommy was not in the list of people who deserved an apology in Wilbur’s mind)

After that Quackity seems to take an interest in Wilbur’s plans specifically, but, before he can investigate further, Tommy gives him his own answer and declines his offer of manning the restaurant saying that that life is not for him, it’s too relaxed (Wilbur's reaction to it is also worth notice). 

“I don’t wanna run a food stand. Wilbur gets things done” (sorry to Tommy here, but, genuinely, when’s the last time Wilbur got something done without Dream’s or Tommy’s help?)

After this they get back on the topic of the Revive Book and Wilbur reveals that Dream is the one who brought him back. He also admits that he wants to thank Dream for saving him and describes him as his “hero” again. Quackity himself reveals that he has been visiting Dream.

“Oh who cares about Ghostbur?” “Don’t fucking say- don’t- he killed Ghostbur” (once again Tommy should not be here for this conversation considering how triggering the subject is for him)

“I can’t believe- you’re like a misinformed parent, you’re just wrong” (Tommy both pointing out that Wilbur is wrong and admitting that that’s due to a lack of information)

“The prison is not just this thing, this dandelion. No no no, the prison-” “How are you back then Tommy? If you died” “Dream killed me to prove a point. That he- (continues under) he’s omnipotent, he’s got this God complex” “Quackity I need to get in there”

Once again not letting Tommy speak even if Wilbur himself asked the question, though this time it may be because if he listened to Tommy’s story and his experience with Dream he would realize that there are some incongruences between the version of Dream he created in his mind and the real Dream. Between his hero and Tommy’s abuser who beat him to death to prove a point. This split in his mind in how he views Dream was already evident in the last stream with him fip flopping between wanting him dead or not. 

“Tommy, Tommy, I’m not gonna talk shit about them [Sam] without their presence here alright?” (Quackity being protective of his own business patners)

Also Tommy manages to deduce on his own what Quackity has been doing to Dream, though he gets to the conclusion with the wrong clues. Either way after finding out how to visit the prison Wilbur leaves in a hurry telling Tommy to go with him as well.

“I’m a big boy Tommy, I’m a big boy, I’ll be fine” “Wilbur I’m a big man, but I was not fine” (Tommy tries to explain Dream’s danger to Wilbur by making himself vulnerable again, but it doesn’t work as Wilbur doesn’t listen)

Afterwards Wilbur tells Tommy that he is going to the prison and ignores any of Tommy’s concerns on the matter.

“Tommy listen, I didn’t wanna spring things on you because I’m really trying not to be a shit person to you Tommy, right? I’m really really trying. And it’s easy, it’s easy not to be a shit person to you, right? Because we got people like Quackity over there who are just- you know he said it best I’m not gonna talk shit about him behind his back"

If he’s not trying to be a sh*t person to Tommy he is failing miserably. Truly this whole stream he either ignored him, talked over him, talked about incredibly triggering stuff in front of him or tried manipulating him. This was all their interactions summarized. Pettiness aside though, he still badmouths Quackity by handing Tommy the book and telling him that Quackity agreed with the “old Wilbur” (not specifying that he is referring to pre-Pogtopia Wilbur and that he himself still agrees with the “old him”) to villainize him. He also acts like Tommy is being unreasonable for not wanting him to go, despite having died there and having seen Ghostbur die there. Wilbur does say that he won’t go if Tommy really doesn’t want him to, but he leaves telling him they’ll talk about it again right after Tommy tells him this: 

“I don’t think you should do that, he’s more powerful then you think you are”

Left on his own Tommy reminisces of when he went to the prison looking for closure as well. He then borrows an ender chest from Quackity for his and Wilbur’s little stone shack and then goes to the middle of the lake to listen to cat. 

[arcadejohn127-9]

Hii 👋 😁 okay so I'd like to request a valentines date with the brothers and newdatebales but while they are on the date MCs ex who is a complete jerk interrupts their nice time and MCs date makes the ex pay for being so rude. Happy Valentines Day! 💝

Happy valentine's! Ugh exes really can be a pain! I'd fist fight my ex for a stick of gum, no hesitation

Sorry this took so long, I've been asleep for most of the day

Pt.2 = undateables (minus Luke)

Context: you decided to go to the human world for your date

Lucifer:

Restaurant! Always - it's a classic

It was fairly lavish, Everyone was in suits or dresses, the place seemed to glitter from how polished it all was

A small classical band in the back

"I'm having a lovely time, I hope it's all to your liking."

"definitely is, though if you were the one playing the piano I'd make it even better."

"I'll keep that in mind for later."

He smirked, taking a sip of his wine whilst you just beamed

You two have been waiting month's for this renovation and you glad you were able to get it in on Valentines

"Oh! (Y/N) been ages- didn't expect you to be here, who's your friend?"

Your stomach dropped

Your ex just smiled at you two, leaning on your seat

"boyfriend."

"no! No way! You're dating?! I heard you were so broken after our breakup, so glad you were finally able to move on, must of been hard."

"Will you leave? I'm trying to enjoy myself-"

Lucifer glared at them, shifting in his seat incase he had to settle this - he had faith in your strength but knew he wouldn't stay silent for long

"Why so hostile?! I haven't done anything wrong it's not like I've gone and told him how clingy you were or the fact you just LOVED arguing."

"fuck off will you?! I wasn't clingy, you were just distant and barely treated me like a partner and we got into arguements because YOU kept going behind my back."

He finally stepped in, noticing you were getting EXTREMELY worked up and had tears lining your eyes

He pulled your ex around, gripping their face and flashed them his true forms face

They screamed as they shoved themselves away from him, darting away to their table

This made everyone look at them, Lucifer fixing his hair and wiped his gloves with a scented wipe

"how unpleasant, Let's get the check, we can finish this back at the house."

He called over a waiter, quickly paying and collecting the now packaged food

"Just tap me and I'll step in sooner, I know you can handle yourself but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry."

Mammon:

A drive in movie - wants to show off his hot wheels and attractive partner~

He was pulled all sorts of cheesy moves, the yawn and stretch is one but many

He smiled having you leaned against him with his arm around your shoulder

You told him you were going to get more snacks and he tried to follow you but you said it'll be alright

Though when you came back you saw your ex leaning on mammons car, flirting with him

"Babe! I told them to back off but they kept pushing-"

"I didn't expect to see you here, are you with him?"

"I'm very much with him, he's taken."

You roughly handed mammon the snacks

He knew to keep his mouth shut, that look on your face wasn't something to mess with

"what a shame, I'm glad you finally got over me though, I heard from your friends you disappeared for 6 months."

"yeah, I was busy with living my life not crying over you."

Your exes mouth twitched whilst you just jumped back into your side of the car

"Right, right - so are you two serious or just a fling? I know it's difficult for you to keep a partner - why not keep me company? You're too handsome to be with them, don't you think? There's no way you actually like them-"

They trailed a hand up mammons arm, sending him a wink

He smacked their hand away from him, growing tired of their behaviour

"you listen here I'm in love with them more than your tiny little human brain will ever understand, back away from my car or watch us go on with our date."

When your ex didn't move he grabbed your shirt, pulling you in into a heated kiss

Whilst you two made out your cradled his head, flipping off your ex, mammon didn't have to even look to know what you were doing

He joined in on flipping them off, you both stayed like that until you heard them scoff and leave

"just say the word and I'll do whatever you ask, I won't let them get away with talking to you like that."

When the movie was done you spotted your exes car with the window down, mammon happily through your Popcorn into their window

But it wasn't over, when his car got close enough he took a pocket knife, slashing their car and immediately drove off at high speed

Levithan:

Arcade; was there really anything else?

He was determined to get you all the arcade prizes, using all his skills to make the machine do as he wished

Has used his tail to grab a prize from a rigged claw machine

"what else should we do? I saw a two player shooter finally open up."

"maybe dance dance Revolution? It'll be fun~"

He groaned, not wanting to do physical exercise but smiled when you weren't looking

He knew every dance song and pattern! He was going to impress you so much!

Of course there was a line, two kids hogging it and people recording them

Though things took a turn when your ex showed their face

"i should of known you'd come here, can't seem to stop visiting our old dating spots, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, clutching levithan's hand

If you were going to be honest, you completely forgot this was one of your old date places

You just remembered it was close by and you've been there when you were younger

"get over yourself, I'm on a date with my boyfriend."

"him? Really? I knew I hurt you but I didn't expect you to downgrade this much."

Levi looked down ashamed, anger boiling inside of him at how they spoke to you

He suddenly moved Infront of you, gripping your exes shirt as he pinned them to the photo-booth

"I don't care what you say to me but I know that you're just a cheating liar who gets off making others feel shitty, stay away from us or I will rip you to shreds limb by limb!"

He didn't even know his voice raised, punching the booth beside their head

Your normally timid boyfriend only got like this when you tried to be a better TSL fan than him or he lose his patience with mammon

Your ex cowered under his gaze, darting off as soon as they could

"i- I hope I didn't speak over you! I know you could of easily dealt with them but I just couldn't stand it!"

Satan:

Meausum, very interesting with different moments in history and discoveries all for the public to see - a date for nerds

Good thing you're both nerds (tbh I'd love a date like this)

"I was actually alive when this happened, It was pretty remarkable."

Oh yeah, expect him to be giving you all the classified details of moments in history

You just wished you had him whilst you were doing your history exams, you could of gotten so much extra credit!

"were you ever in any pictures? It would be pretty fun if we spotted you in the back of one of these."

He just laughed, grinning as you slowly began to realize that was an actual possibility

But before you could press on your mouth flew shut

Your ex was here

You elected to ignore them but they didn't have the same idea for you

"I never expected to see you around again, I thought you disappeared completely when no one heard from you in months."

"now that you're talking to me I wish I had, is there a reason you're interrupting my date?"

"your date? Is this him? I didn't think you'd move on so quickly~ shows what value you have on relationships."

Satan was pleased; he's heard all about your ex and was mad they were even breathing the same air as you

You were more annoying than any of his brother's and he hasn't even said anything to them yet

"I got over you quickly which might I add 10 months isn't a short time span - because you mean nothing me, you're a bitch."

"Back off or you'll end up with a bloody nose."

"gonna hit? Some man you are! Quick to violence-"

He grabbed their head, quickly jerking their head as if he was going to smash it into the display

His fingers dug into their scalp and tugged at their hair

"You have 5 seconds, I'm feeling nice today because it's valentine's - run now or I will put a dent in your skull."

He let go and he began to count, your ex looked at you both with fear before running

Just grazing the 5 second limit

"what was we discussing? Ah yes, I'll point out where I am, I think the picture is just up ahead."

Asmodeus:

Bath store date!!!

If it's with asmo - anything can be exciting

Even if it is you two walking around snorting bath bombs and poking the bath jello

Asmo handed you a bar

"smell it~ it's got herbs and flowers in it, doesn't the smell remind you of the kitchen back home?"

You gave it a small sniff but almost got abit of herb stuck in your nose when you saw your ex looking straight at you

He caught onto your surprise, slightly turning to see someone approach you two

"Careful there, don't want it to get stuck up your nose."

Your ex laughed, you just frowned

The demon looking between you, noticing how unhappy you were

"Do you want something? We're busy."

"I spotted you and thought to see hi! It's been so long since we've talked! Are you feeling abit better now after your break? I know the breakup was hard."

They gave you a pity filled look, patting your shoulder

"No, the breakup was easy to get through but why does it matter to you? We're not friends and you dumped me and that was that."

"come on it couldn't be just that, don't be shy Infront of- who are you exactly?"

Asmo quickly wrapped an arm around you, hugging you close as he gave your ex a tight smile

"Their boyfriend~! And I'm not happy about you talking to my sweetheart, leave."

"boyfriend? You look like that and you wanna try to be tough, you're as scary as a cloud- this is what you moved on with? I should of expected it."

"cute, look me in the eyes whilst you say that, won't you?"

Your ex foolishly did, Getting ready to insult but felt themself be fully charmed

"Won't you be a dear and spin around for me? Perhaps start clucking like a chicken, I think there's some feed over there." He cooed.

You bursted out laughing watching your ex do exactly as they were asked

Your boyfriend just smiled, picking up another soap and sniffing it before handing it to you

"ooo it's really fragrance, let's get this one."

You ignored your charmed ex, leaving the store with your stuff, hearing them yell out in humiliation as soon as you stepped out the store

Beezlebub:

Picnic, Should of been expected

You watched him do his stretches; you knew he had to keep himself occupied with draining tasks to keep better control over his constant hunger

He already scarfed down most of what was in basket before his fitness watch went off

You just sat back and observed

"I know this isn't romantic but once I'm tired we can continue, I'm sorry."

"Beel, I'd rather watch you flex your muscles than feel starved."

"I'll do my best."

He leaned down and you met him half way, Sharing a quick kiss before he went jogging

Everytime he passed your spot you gave him a cheer

But what you didn't expect was your ex to whistle, watching Beel with you

"do you mind? That's my boyfriend."

"I can see, how'd you get a guy like him? He's shredded, I didn't think big guys were your type."

"It's none of your business what my type is, our relationship is over and I told you I never wanted to see you again."

Your ex scoffed, glaring down at you

"is that why you disappeared for months? You really think I'd be desperate enough to message you again?"

"is it it of your system yet? Can you leave?"

"What's the issue..? You don't look pleased."

He was looking directly at you, concern on his face

You sighed In annoyance

"oh~ and he has a nice voice aswell, aren't you a package, wanna go somewhere more private?"

It was your turn to scoff, beel frowned at your ex

He knew how unpleasant your ex was and immediately stepped towards them

He grabbed their head and easily lifted them off the ground and put them to his eye level

"Apologize and Leave."

Your ex whimpered, wincing in pain, beel moved them like a ragdoll and made them face you

"I'M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING!"

They were let go and scampered off

You turned to beel, cupping his face, his mood immediately improving

"you did amazing, baby, are you tired or do you need to keep exercising?"

"I think I'll be able to be fine now, I'm glad they left so quickly, I was going to eat them."

Belphegor:

He wanted sky diving but you decided to go to the mattress store

Odd date choice but it made perfect sense to your boyfriend, they were having double bed special offers

He sunk into the mattress, sighing feeling how soft and bouncy it was

"We Should get this one."

"you said that with the last mattress, I'm sure you could find one hard as a rock and still want it."

"the top of the sofa is a comfy spot but I like my mattresses soft."

You just hummed, looking at the prices

"Tore up the old one with one of your tantrums? What a shame."

"excuse me??! I had a death In my family and that was an accident-! Why are you even here?!"

You can't believe it! Your ex had to be here of all places!

"I did want to say hi but now you're just getting all worked up over abit of teasing, you're still so sensative."

"Wow, forever the gaslighting cunt, I'm really not surprised you haven't changed but you got real balls to be so public about how much of a shitty person you are."

Beel was propped up on the mattress, happily watching you verbally destroy your ex

"you're just a bitch as always-"

"hold on, I'm just teasing - no need to get all angry about it."

He snickered whilst you smirked, coping the same tone your ex used

"Ah~ I know you, they told me about you, you're the ex that slipped and fell into the pool full of sick, I've been laughing about that for months."

"you-! I can't believe you'd talk about me so much, have you really moved on?"

"they told him one story, calm down, is this what you do now that you're single? terrorise couples in mattress store?"

They tried to bark back but he cut them off

"You know...I know plenty of ways to suffocate a human and I wouldn't even have to put a single finger on you, unless you want to see what I can do to your mind, I'd turn around and bother someone else."

They stared at him in horror, seeing you both just look down at them, enjoying their struggle for words

"you're both little shits, I hope you're miserable."

"and I hope you get the hell out of my face before I decide to stop being nice."

His eyes glowed as mist formed at his fingers, unnoticeable to anyone else around you

Your ex winced, a choked noise escaping them

They surprised you by being smart for once, turning around and storming away

"Are you miserable, belphie?"

"only when you're not around."

[nat-20s]

Part 4 of Wonderful! Au! This one isn’t an episode! And It’s not funny! It does, however,  provide the context around Part 3! Also, Jon signs in this one, and sign languages have their own grammar and structure, but I display his signs translated into English and denote them with <> instead of “”. Here goes!

~*~

When, two days ago, Jon woke up gasping at 3 am, Martin didn’t think anything of it. Their nightmares were much like their chronic headaches: sometimes occurring daily, sometimes going weeks in without showing up. They were uncomfortable, surely, and sometimes had lingering effects, but there was a routine to them that took away much of their sting.

When he then throws off the covers, grabs the pack of cigarettes that only gets touched maybe three times a year, and makes a beeline for their balcony, Martin realizes that something worse is going on. Dread starting to settle in his stomach, he attempts to stave it off through action. He grabs the comforter  and puts on a pair of slippers, going to accompany Jon. The early morning spring air is bracing enough to someone like himself, who, barring a certain deeply unpleasant year, had always run hot, it must be awful for the heat sink that is Jon. Sure enough, he finds Jon shifting on his feet, trying not to shiver too much as he’s handling the lighter.

Getting closer, while still allowing Jon breathing room, he offers over the blanket with a gentle smile and gentler words “Wanna talk about it?”

Jon doesn’t take the blanket. Jon doesn’t even look at him. “Talking to you has often been the problem, so no, thank you.”

Oof. Instinct tells him to react with a matching tone, to jab right back. That instinct is one that he’s long learned to ignore. Instead, he wraps the blanket around his own shoulders and replies with a certain level of blitheness, “Huh. Probably shouldn’t have married me then.”

Jon’s shoulders slump, and the harsh lines of his features soften. He still, however, won’t look at Martin. “Sorry, that was...a poor way of phrasing things. Sometimes I just think..”

There’s a silence between them for a few seconds as Martin waits for him to expand on the thought. When he doesn’t, Martin prompts, “Yes?”

Jon sighs with all of himself, before taking a drag of his cigarette. “Four years ago. If you hadn’t been there, I think I would’ve gone through with it. I’m glad for the life we got to build afterwards, but. Sometimes it feels as though I’m being rewarded for failure. Or perhaps, more accurately, for compliance.”

Four years ago. Four years ago exactly. The date dawns on Martin, simultaneously the worst day of their lives, and the day of their freedom from the fears. The realization makes him understand why Jon’s treading the ruts of a worn out argument, a old ache. These days, Martin doesn’t have much to say on the matter. He thinks the second Fucking Jonah Magnus opened the door, and that it was Fucking Jonah Magnus who did it, they no longer had any right choices to make. No matter what way they did the math, the outcome was always going to be terrible. However, when he wakes up warm, with their cat curled up at their feet and his husband curled into his side, he can regret the build up all he likes, but he can’t deny his joy at how it, eventually, all shook out. “Reward would imply intent, and I don’t think what we have now was orchestrated by anything other than ourselves. It’s not like the web promised us a summer wedding if we finished opening the rift.”

It’s too early to have the conversation. Jon seems to realize this at the same time that Martin does, because he snuffs out his cigarette on the railing, and says he’s going back to bed.

Four hours later, Jon leaves the apartment. He doesn’t say where he’s going, and Martin doesn’t ask. In the past, it would’ve been enough for his anxiety to spike, for the insidious thoughts of “this is it, he’s finally sick of me, always knew this would happen,” to circulate. He’s mostly able to stave off that way, able to come to the rational conclusion that this day was hard every year, and that they both needed space to process, that they weren’t even fighting, really. Mostly. He still has to keep himself busy to stave off the worst of it. The sardonic part of himself notes that their apartment’s always sparkling when they’re at their lowest, stress cleaning a habit the two of them share.

Jon gets home close to midnight, and doesn’t look at him as he falls asleep. On the couch. Maybe they’re fighting after all. Martin wishes someone had told him.

This morning, Martin wakes up cold for the first time in months. Blearily, he makes his way towards the kitchen, and finds Jon upright and scrolling on his phone. The bags under his eyes suggest he slept about as well as Martin. He looks up, at Martin, when he walks by, which is a marked improvement. Martin stops in his tracks, and he wants to think of something easy to say. He wants to offer tea or breakfast, he wants to give reassurances, he wants to remain steadfast in his conviction that saving their former world and ending up somewhere else was the best move, he want to smoothly open up discussion. Instead, he blurts out the question that’s been keeping him tossing and turning for the past several hours. “Are we okay?”

Jon opens his mouth, closes it, and lets out a frustrated huff through his nose. He raises his hand in a fist and nods with it. <Yes.>

Inanely, he asks, “Are you okay?,” which only gets him a flat stare before Jon signs <I’m getting some damn sleep.> and shoves past Martin to what is supposed to be their shared bed. Martin lets him, for now, but they’re going to clear out some of the tension this afternoon.

He makes the elective decision to record the episode by himself. He supposes he could send out a tweet telling their audience it’s an off week, but he wants to record it, both for himself and for Jon. After he’s done, he does a three knocks in rapid succession on the doorframe of the bedroom, a code they had established, god, back in the Prentiss days to let the other know it was them. Jon stirs under the covers, so he asks, “Can I come in?”

A hand rises up, giving the same nod as earlier. Before he walks in, however, he also asks, “Can I join you on the bed?”

<Yes.>

Martin crawls in next to him, and Jon immediately turns over to face him. Before he says anything, Jon signs <I love you.>

“I love you too. Hey, did..did you hear me recording?”

<No. You did an episode solo?>

“Yeah. Sort of figured you weren’t up for it.”

Jon shrugs and gives a tilt of his head that Martin reads as “Fair.” <What’s it about?>

Martin gives a shit-eating grin, the first smile hes given in the past two days. “It’s a surprise.”

Jon sticks out his tongue at him, which makes some of the weight on his lungs lift. “It’s also not what we need to discuss. What’s been going on, my love?”

<Same old, same old. Crushing guilt, swells of regret, the general feeling that I don’t deserve this life. I’ll get past it again. It’s just hard, this time of year.>

Martin knew all that already, but, “There’s something else though, this time, isn’t there?”

Jon drops his eyes down to his hands, which he keeps resolutely still. With nothing but an earnest plea, Martin asks, “Why did you sleep on the couch? That’s not ‘same old, same old’.”

To his surprise, Jon comes in closer, only leaving enough room between them that he can still sign. <I love you. So much. Enough to terrify me, sometimes, but.>

“But?”

<Sometimes I can’t look at you without seeing the past. I’m sorry.>

Involuntarily, Martin glances down to Jon’s abdomen. Despite his torso being covered, Martin knows the shape of the scar there, because there are times where he can still feel himself creating it. “I know how you feel. And it’s. It sucks, but I think it’s okay. As long as..as it’s not the only thing you see looking at me.”

Jon shakes his head, and gives an only slightly fragmented smile. <Not at all. Mostly I look at you and I see my favorite person in all of existence, literally.>

Martin relaxes into the mattress and runs his fingers through Jon’s hair. Pressing their foreheads together, he replies, “Ditto. Don’t tell The Duchess though, she’s the jealous type.”

That gets a proper laugh out of Jon, and Martin’s sure that they both know tomorrow is going to be better.