#a complete lack of social skills and zero fucks to give

[moreau29]

jean moreau, the man that you are

[swampgallows]

.

im job searching again and theres one near me thats like art therapy (it says 'instructor' but the job description sounds more like art therapy) for a disability center but it would require me coming up with a curriculum and all this other teacher shit and i really dont know if id be capable of that. my sister is a teacher so she's constantly trying to convince me id be a good teacher because that's what she does. it's what she knows and likes and so she assumes it's the most important thing anyone can do. like the same way people tell me id be a good mom when i have zero if not negative desire to ever be around children let alone in charge of their welfare. at this point i feel like just giving myself to the lowest bidder because i cannot envision a future for myself or consider my own needs or dreams at all.

maybe if i were at a stage in my life where i could be more cerebral i might be capable of something like coming up with curricula and lessons but right now im so mentally and socially and academically (and honestly, physically) atrophied that i need something really fucking small and simple just to get me being a person again. which dept of rehab was supposed to be helping me with but theyre completely useless. i have so few employable skills and even the things i know i dont seem to do well enough to get employed. id desperately want to learn but nobody trains anymore and although i yearn to go back to school or take classes or any kind of training at all everything has inherent covid risk unless it's fully remote.

i should probably just look into volunteer work or something to get me living again but again covid risk has hamstrung most of what i would consider to be good opportunities. i dunno man i just feel so stuck. every moment i progress a little more, something yanks me back. either i keep failing to be functional for more than a month at a time, or i get wildly abused in the workplace (a la amazon), or i risk lc/stroke/death because masking is 'bad customer service'. at the same time im starting to accept that this is really truly what life is going to be like for me from here on out. it's taken four years but it's starting to actually settle in that this is life, it's not a nightmare i can wake up from, and i am no longer in a passing storm that im trying to wait out. the storm will not end, it's going to keep raining, and i have to figure out how to live underwater. even though i could very easily die from the pressure and lack of air (and so could everyone else but they "cant live in fear!!1") i have to just find a way to survive under the crushing depths.

i honestly dont know what i have to live for or what kind of future there could ever be for me but since i couldnt even kill myself i guess i have to be around for it.

[seokjinsonlyone]

Why didn't anyone tell me we were getting delulu?!!

Okay for context, I have zero (actually minus) experience, esp when in comes to seduction (I'm about as seductive as a wilted spinach leaf). BUT, if something like this were to happen:

I'm going super delulu ultra pro max with this but I think I could get jk. Look, ik if just go upto him and yada yada, not a chance (or the skills). BUT. I have this air about me that screams, 'not available', (I've had it for the longest time, & I won't be able to turn it offf completely if I wanted to) and accompanied with my seemingly cold + idgaf attitude I would grab his attention with littlee effort. My boi loves a good challenge and I think I'd give him just that, with a sweet reward. But if it was just this maybe I won't have the chance, but see it's my first time, and I'm a naturally awkward, socially anxious potato, *and idk how my tsundre and liddol baby selves coexist but they do) so if not challenge I'm bound to call out some of his protective side. And a mix and match of both and I think I can get the boy + I don't get dressed up often so when I do I know I look good so the confidence would be cherry on top.

On number two we have tae. Ok the reason he's not on no. 1 is my lack of social energy, I just don't have the skills or the confidence to go up and strike a convo like that, so I'd be relying on my mysterious charm and red lipstick. So why on 2? Bcz I think I could invite him with just an appreciative gaze that shows him I genuinely like him, plus a smile that calls him to come and sit so I can compliment till his ears turn red bcz 1 thing about me is I know how to compliment and also recieve them with confidence. From here we can either go full flirting and then to room to bada bing bada boom or be invested in whatever convo we're having and become besties bcz once in I'm not losing him and I think he'd like to have a real friend (that will turn into fxb bcz I didn't waste all that energy for nothing).

Jimin would be on no.3. Ik it can be awkward but he's also fun and flirty, but if I go and calm his nerves a bit (which is the only time I get confidence to strike up a convo and don't suck at it) I think I could get him. There's something about him that summons my fun and flirty side out, so I'd probably start with some playful flirting and then there's no stopping us cuz soon we are staring into e/o's eyes, smirks tucked on the corners of our lips and maybe playing with each other fingers. I think most of all it'd be him I'd have genuine fun with, plus I think he'd have good time when our flirting energies match and then the next thing I know he's dragging me through the crowd to his car.

On 4th is yoongs but idk know whether I'd just want to talk to him and form a connection with my long lost soulmate or do the thing bcz as soon as I see the man I want to settle down, get married, and sit on our living room sofa with my head on his lap as he plays with my hair.

I'd agree where yoongi is subtly horny so I'd play my cards on that. I think he'd feels safe around me so that's also a plus point. If I go looking all attractive, lean in and strike up a genuinely interesting convo that would develop into light touches and then a rough ones but unlike jimin's playful ones they are real and meaningful. I delulu that I could also make him drag me to the car with my hand in his if it hoes right.

Idk why but I also think that if don't do all that and just go upto him and offer real interest, he'd be game 🤷🏻‍♀️.

With hobi n jay me thinks, I'll have to put in more efforts, like swipe my hair from the neck, the gazes and all that and that too if he's in the mood. Maybe if I show I'm here for commitment we'll hit of as friends or smth but the one day where I'm not even looking particularly good he just thinks that fuck this is the most beautiful woman in the planet how do I get her (bcz I'm 10000% confident in that if you actually get to know my real self a bit and stay there's no way you won't be completely and utterly enamoured by me) and I'd laugh bcz boy u should have gotten me when I came, now play the long game (wow that rhymes!) And then we'll get marriedand live happily everafter.

I don't really know about Joon bcz he has such a high drive and that makes me lise my confidence. I do believe I could make him genuinely interested in my mind bcz there's some real cool stuff in there but for that I'll have to go and actually talk to him and mannnn that's hard I'm gonna cry.

But if I'm sitting not gaf about him I think I could attract him if I'm in my element and then he'd be the one fumbling over his words bcz I can look hot and intelligent if I want to hunh😒😏

Lastly jin. No. No chance this man will throw me out like this:

Commitment and relationship are still and option but otherwise the matter is closed forever and so am I in my box if embarrassment

SOLID! makes sense!!! especially seokjin just not entertaining you at all LOL also i love how tae is at the top of everyone’s lists sksksjsj like he’s just got that vibe and then at the same time yoongi just has everyone wanting to be his domestic life partner sigh the duality of taegi!!!

[anti-transphobia]

I really REALLY wish people would start saying "have some sympathy/compassion" instead of "have some empathy". Feelings do often impact actions but....they don't have to. And a lot of problems arise when actions are taken solely based on emotions. The type of empathy I'm best at is cognitive empathy - recognizing and understanding how someone might be feeling - and that's a skill that's shaky at best. Emotional empathy I nearly completely lack. I can count the amount of times someone had made me feel their emotions on one hand (I think about three times in my entire life).

But then there's compassion. Compassion you can do regardless of empathy level. Compassion you can do regardless of how something makes you feel. People can have extreme levels of empathy and choose not to try to help someone that they could. Likewise, people can have zero empathy and choose to help someone. Emotions can influence actions but it's not the only thing that matters

I am technically not no empathy, but I'm so low and so bad at empathy and trying to apply it that I'm virtually no empathy. Moments of true empathy are mostly flukes for me. But I'm a very compassionate person! An example is when someone vents or is sad in a discord server that's really not about that/doesn't have a vent channel for a reason. Do you know how that makes me FEEL? Irritated. Irked. If it's a small line or two, fine, it slips out, especially when your reality sucks. Entire unprompted rants? Trauma dumping in the middle of other people's normal conversations? That pisses me off. But you know what I'll often do? I'll say a few words. Generally my policy is that I'm not going to devote a ton of my own energy at my own detriment for a stranger (had an issue with that online as a teen), but if it doesn't hurt me physically or emotionally to give a few kind words to someone hurting, then I see no reason not to do it. It doesn't take much time from me and it makes someone clearly struggling feel a little bit better. There's zero empathy or any kind of "I feel so bad for you" emotions there, and yet, because I generally believe in trying to make things better if you can, I comfort them. I acknowledge that someone is hurting and play my part to remedy the situation

This is why people need to decouple actions from emotions. You don't have to feel ANYTHING to do the right thing. Something isn't "less good" because their heart wasn't in it. If someone drops their wallet and you return it to them solely out of social obligation, guess what? A wallet has still been returned. Someone's money, debit/credit cards, and entire identity, was not lost. Someone was just saved a ton of grief by a simple act carried out by a person who doesn't give a fuck. The results of your actions is, for most every day circumstances, more important than how you actually feel doing them

[bnha-dumpster]

Hear me out

Step-brother Shigaraki shoving a vibe in (male) reader during a dinner and Shigaraki is controlling the vibrator and then after dinner Shigaraki fucks the life out of Reader

i was gonna work on monster stuff but this is just *chef's kiss* i think i'm going down the road of a pseudo-incest kink whoops and laughs at myself as i add plot for no reason (also gives you guys a visual reference of the toy in the fic)

pairing: step-brother shigaraki x male reader content tags/warnings: dub-con, pseudo-incest, mild exhibitionism, choking, sex toys, degradation, mind break word count: 2.1k

Things around the household have changed drastically since your mother remarried. You love your mother and want her to be happy, but you feel that things have changed far too fast and far too much.

You had been told that your step-father wanted you to move in with him for two reasons. One; you don't have a job since you're attending university full-time and two; his house is pretty close to your university. You've seen his house from the outside and you can't deny the thought of living in such a large house is pleasant. It's a good deal. But if you had been told that your step-father has a shut-in son that lives with him before moving in, you might've reconsidered it.

Shigaraki is rude and has zero social skills. While you don't actually mind people that don't have social skills- it's often times not their fault- there's something about your step-brother that just unnerves you. You see him and alarm bells go off in your mind.

He likes to catch you off guard. Coming into your room to watch you, pinning you to surfaces, groping you, watching you shower- there's something really wrong with him.

"Tomu-"

You're trying to walk downstairs to go eat dinner with your mother and step-father. Trying, being the keyword. Shigaraki has you pinned to the wall once again. One of his hands is able to completely hold both your wrists- he's not even that much bigger than you! He's using his free hand to tug your sweatpants down to your knees. The pinning isn't exactly new, but he's never actually pulled your clothes off.

"I bought something for you. It's a little present for having such a cute brother." His voice makes you shudder, but the item he holds up next to your face makes you tense up. It's a brand new, probably expensive, sex toy.

"Tomura- hey- let's not-" You squirm and shake your head.

"Don't cause a fuss. Just let me do this, 'kay?"

The lube on the toy is your only saving grace as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and tries to put it on you. It doesn't work very well, the lubed up toy sliding against your limp cock a few times before Shigaraki growls lowly.

"I'm taking my hand off and I expect you to stay still." True to his word, the hand on your wrists disappears. If this were the first time he tried to do something like this, then you might've run away. But you've unfortunately learned through experience that your step-brother is far stronger than he seems. It's only because of your knowledge do you stay.

His hand is cold and calloused, an uncomfortable feeling against your skin. You grimace as he grabs your cock to slip the ring over it, making sure it’s snug against the base before he pushes the vibrating part of the toy into you. It doesn’t actually seem that bad until he turns the toy on. 

“Shit-” You’re not oblivious to the toy’s function but you didn’t expect it to be so snug against that spot inside you. Shigaraki grabs you before your legs buckle, laughing at your state. 

“Wow, you’re that sensitive?” He’s taunting you, making fun of you. “Is my little brother just a slut in disguise?” 

Your pants are pulled up and a small slap is given to your ass. It brings a small yelp out of you, making you turn around to glare at him. He doesn’t seemed fazed by it. Instead, it spurs him on and you can feel him grind against your ass. Even through the fabric of both of your sweatpants, you can feel how hot and heavy his cock is. You can tell it’s thick and that’s barely hard. 

A sliver of arousal makes itself known with a twitch of your cock. The realization makes you stand up straight and shove your step-brother away, adjusting your clothes to hide the erection beginning to strain underneath your pants. 

It’s difficult to sit down at the dinner table and act normal. You give your mother a small smile as you squirm in your seat for a moment. The toy’s low vibration stimulating every part of you- the base of your cock being teased, vibrations going through your balls and taint, the dildo pressing snugly against your prostate- and it’s difficult to hold your composure. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Your mother is looking at you with concern.

“O-oh, I’m alright, mom.” You force another smile.

“Go lay down after dinner, okay?” 

You give a small nod before you start eating, not waiting for your step-brother to sit down. He’s probably snickering to himself and thinking of what he should do. The sudden increase of vibrations of the toy surprises you and you choke on a piece of food. 

“Honey?” 

“Don’t worry, he’s just a little out of it, right lil bro?” A large hand comes to rest on your shoulder. As you turn to look over your shoulder, Shigaraki stares down at you with a small smirk. You can see the small remote in his hand and you almost want to reach out and grab it. But that’d cause a scene- the last thing you want at the dinner table.

He slides into his seat, not bothering to eat. All he’s doing is staring at you and analyzing your reactions as he plays with the remote in his pocket. 

“Yeah, j-just a little bit out of it.” You try your best to keep yourself together. Eating your dinner as fast as possible is your goal, hoping that this torture is only for the sake of humiliating you in front of your mother. 

The vibrations of the toy change rapidly. It seems like Shigaraki’s just cycling through them for the first time, gauging your reactions as he does so. He’s trying to find the best setting for you right now, surely. The one that does you in is the low and slow pulsing of the toy. 

He’s learning so much about you. You’re smart enough not to fight him physically but still have the guts to snap at him with your words. You prefer to be teased with a lack of stimulation rather than overstimulation. You won’t tell your mother about anything he does so she’ll stay happy. The best part... You’re easy to read.

Now that it’s been a few minutes of dealing with the toy, you’re settling down. It’s still uncomfortable, the low stimulation keeping your cock hard, but you’re able to eat your dinner for the most part. You’re eating quicker than normal just so this can end. 

“Thanks for dinner, mom.” As you stand from the table, Shigaraki cycles through the toy quickly to put the vibrations at its most intense setting. You curl in on yourself and groan, facing contorting. 

“Dear?” 

You give her a reassuring smile despite the heat pooling in your stomach. As much as you want to leave the table, you’re not sure you can do it yourself. It seems to be part of your step-brother’s plan. He puts his arm under yours, holding you up to help you shuffle back upstairs.

“I’ll make sure he’s alright, don’t worry.” 

They can’t see it, but you’re glaring at him as he helps you up. With him being the only reason you’re still standing however, that’s all you can manage to do. You hold onto his torso as he takes you up the stairs and opens the door of your room. 

“You’re close, huh? You were about to cum in front of our parents, weren’t you?” Shigaraki throws you onto the floor of your room with a thud, using his foot to turn you onto your back. He stares down at you and steps on your cock, moving it back and forth. 

“Alright little bro, cum for me.” 

With a particularly large amount of pressure, almost painful, you tense and spurt ropes of cum inside your pants. A stain begins to seep into the fabric and Shigaraki looks down at you with a sneer. You’re squirming under his foot, the toy still vibrating aggressively inside you and around the base of your cock. 

He picks you up by the hair and drags you to your bed, manhandling you so your face is against the comforter and your ass is in the air. He doesn’t even bother turning the toy off as he takes it out of you and slides your cock out of the ring. Your ass clenches around the air pathetically, teasing Shigaraki. Even with something inside you, stretching you out, your ass still looks tight and almost untouched. The only thing eluding to its use is the lube smeared around it. 

You’re given no warning when your step-brother grabs your hips and slams his cock inside you. When did he take it out? You don’t know.

“Shiiiiiit- Do you know how tight you are?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Shigaraki begins to fuck you with abandon, thrusting into you with no care for your comfort. The stretch of his cock, how it reaches almost too deep inside you- it’s horribly uncomfortable. There’s a tinge of pleasure from the stretch of his cock pressing against your prostate almost constantly, but not much else. 

His balls slap against your ass with every heavy thrust and the grip on your hips is bruising. You can feel his nails digging into the skin and you’re sure they’ll leave marks. He’s leaving reminders of this.

A hand leaves your hip to hold your limp cock, pumping it aggressively. The sudden stimulation is painful and you squirm. 

“Now, now, little bro. Be a good slut for me and let me play with you.” Shigaraki sneers at the way you stop squirming at his words. “There... See, you’re a pathetic little slut for your big bro, aren’t you?” 

You refuse to answer, only burying your face into the sheets to hide your humiliated tears. It’s not like it matters. He continues to pump your cock at a fast pace, enjoying the way your walls twitch and tighten because of it. Even if you’re not feeling anything, he is. Your pleasure is more of an afterthought, a bonus. Then your cock begins to twitch back to life. 

“Seriously? You’re feeling good?” Shigaraki leans against you, biting your ear. “Getting off from your step bro treating you like a whore and fucking you? You really must be one if you like this.”

“I’m not!” You protest, turning to look at him. Tears are falling down your face, cheeks red from the embarrassment. “It’s your fault! You’re forcing my body to feel like this!”

Both of you know it’s a lie. You’re definitely enjoying it. As cute as your denial is to your step-brother, he isn’t in the mood for you being like this the whole time. He wants to have to shut you up so your parents won’t hear you begging for his cock. 

With a bit of reluctance, he pulls out of you. You’re allowed a brief moment of confusion as he decides how he wants to position you. Once he decides, he flips you onto your back and hikes your legs over his shoulders. In this position, he rubs your cocks together. His is undeniably thicker than yours, but your length isn’t too drastically different. There’s only a few seconds of rutting them together before he lines his cock up with your ass and slams back in.

Much to his surprise and amusement, you let out a confused moan. The new position must feel good. Your face contorting into pleasure with a mix of self-disgust is beautiful to him.

“Little bro, come on. Just let yourself feel good.” His thrusts slow and he reaches for your neck. The grip on your throat is intense and you can feel yourself becoming lightheaded almost instantly. It’s an intense feeling that mixes with pleasure, clouding your senses. 

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen or just you giving up, but you begin to buck your hips against Shigaraki’s. Your jaw goes slack and your mouth is open, eyes rolling back into your head. The choking keeps you from making much noise so all you can let out are strangled groans. 

“Finally. Let yourself go. Become my whore, my pathetic cumdump of a little brother. Just be my personal cock sleeve, yeah?” 

The words go in one ear and out the other and you let out a string of agreements. Your back arches, cock twitching and covering your stomach in your own cum. It’s the sudden tightness around him that pushes Shigaraki over the edge. He stills inside you as deep as he can and cums, filling your ass. As he comes down from his high, he lets go of your throat. 

“Good boy.” He smacks your face gently and chuckles at your lack of response. “Gone already? Come on, we’ve barely started.”

[songofclarity]

Hi cat anon back again I absolutely loved your response to my ask though I doubt WRH sleeps 16 hours a day lol. On the contrary I think he's more likely a workaholic who rarely if ever gets a full night of sleep. even if he delegates a part of his workload, leading a sect as large as qishan wen is still a very hard and demanding job and there are things that just can't be delegated and there's also his cultivation that he must put a lot of work in to be that powerful I would be surprised if he ever gets time to rest. If I were to compare WRH as a leader to anyone it would be Miranda Priestley from "the devil wears Prada", all those working under him are terrified of him not because he's needlessly cruel but because he's extremely strict, demanding, and has very high expectations of everyone starting with himself and the higher you go in the hierarchy of the sect the higher his expectations of you will be and if you can't meet his expectations you will be kicked to the curb without mercy (srsly if you haven't watched that movie you absolutely should especially if you're looking for inspiration for WRH because Meryl Streep slays the role of the demanding and tyrannical leader in it).

Also I'm curious what kind of parent you think WRH is. We never get to meet WX in the novel so there's no way to know what he's really like but WC strikes me as a sort of spoiled kid who was used to getting all his demands met without question and was never disciplined for anything ever in his life but also there are WQ and WN whose upbringing WRH had more or less involvement in depending on the adaptation and who seem to be far better adjusted people than WC even if WN seems to suffer from near crippling social anxiety and stage fright. I personally think he has no idea how to parent because he was mostly raised by nannies and tutors and barely had any relation with his own parents if he had any so his idea of being a father is buying his children anything they ask for no matter how extravagant and having dinner with them once in a while.

Sorry for the rant but you're my favorite writer who writes WRH I just love the way you write him ❤️

Ahaha, 16 hours is indeed much too much, he needs to have time to work on his cultivation! I'm so happy you love the way I write him and I love hearing you talk about him, so thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!

I will confess I, too, have a soft spot for workaholic/insomniac Wen RuoHan. It’s a big sect and there is a lot to do! At the same time, I also have a soft spot for well-rested and idling Wen RuoHan who is purposefully kept oblivious to most things happening in his sect, either because other people are doing a good job taking care of it all, because they just don't want to look bad in front of the boss and so don't tell him, or both lol

To be honest, I don't see Wen RuoHan as someone who is that critical of people! I just don't see him dropping people simply because they make a mistake. The way he lightly jokes with Meng Yao after Meng Yao nearly gets himself killed is kind of something I can see Miranda Priestly doing though lol But she knows she's top brass and has the attitude for it. There is an arrogance about her that when she says something disparaging, it's really not a joke even if she might smile and laugh. By comparison, I don't think Wen RuoHan is nearly that arrogant or, if I may, that rude. I think politeness and proper manners are actually very important to him (and there is a whole essay in me about that lol). Wen RuoHan says "you good-for-nothing" only after Meng Yao was being self-deprecating, and then they laughed and carried on with Wen RuoHan going along with Meng Yao's ideas. Meng Yao's status doesn't falter in the slightest.

(So yes, The Devil Wears Prada is a great movie and I have definitely seen it!)

Instead of Wen RuoHan creating a toxic environment where he plays an active hand in making people fight for privileges and status, I can better see people around Wen RuoHan vying for his attention that it becomes a dog-eat-dog situation. It's like with the guest cultivator who threw Nie Dad under the bus. Wen RuoHan did not pose a question that needed to cause a sect-sect incident, but the guest cultivator made it into one. No one is quite sure why he would say such a thing, although one of the assumptions is that he said it simply to stand out and gain attention.

Although I may just have some rose-colored glasses on lol Wen RuoHan just kind of has that personality, to me, that draws people in. They see Wen RuoHan, recognize his power, and are like, "If I can have 5 minutes of his time, my whole life will change for the better." I do think Wen RuoHan thought he was making things better with his policies. The problem is that some bad people are taking advantage of this offer, and it in turn reflects badly on Wen RuoHan. I will say this though: I think there is some room to argue that Wen RuoHan does follow the teachings of Wen Mao.

For the record, I like to completely ignore what CQL did to the Wens, tbh LOL Wen RuoHan is Yikes, Wen Chao is more just evil asshole rather than pompous asshole, and Wen Qing and Wen Ning are like desolate orphans for some reason. I love the younger actors, acting, and the aesthetics (although white and red will always be Wen colors to me!) but the changes to their story line and their relationships with each other made a complete mess and I don't like to see it ;;

But man, I wish we knew, like, anything about Wen Xu! Wen Chao is absolutely spoiled though. Although one thing I like is how he's being given opportunities to practice leadership, management, and organization skills. He's the one arranging the Wen Sect team for the archery competition and he's put in charge of indoctrinating all the juniors when he himself is the same age as them. We see evidence that he's getting the right education and opportunities to maybe even become Sect Leader one day (Wen Xu, who are you!?), but we also know he's a rather rotten, arrogant person who seems to enjoy his power and privilege more than anything. Wen Chao is also the second son and we get a nice comparison with Nie HuaiSang, who also enjoys all the wealth and the pretty things of his station but doesn't want the responsibilities that come with it.

My headcanon is that Wen RuoHan adores children and is very good with them. I want to believe he was very good to Wen Xu, Wen Chao, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning. This is in part because every other parent in MDZS is awful so statistics says at least one of them needs to be good, so let's give it to Wen RuoHan LMAO

But for the actual teaching of said children, I can definitely see them being given tutors and Shifu and all that good stuff. Then when they have learned something, they show it off to Wen RuoHan, who I think is someone who likes seeing others learn and improve. I don't think utilizing nannies and tutors would make him a bad parent though! It might make him somewhat distant, however, which might explain why Wen Chao lies about killing the Tortoise of Slaughter. That would be a great way to get his father's attention! But it might not be because his father is distant. That lack of attention could also be because he's competing, as I mentioned before, with all the other people vying for Wen RuoHan's attention.

Considering Wen RuoHan gave Wen Chao his strongest bodyguard, a whole ton of disciples to lead, and opportunities to prove himself, I think Wen RuoHan is arguably a decent father. That Wen Chao was desperate to get back to him when it all went south shows that his father is someone he knows will protect him, which no other kid in the series (except Lan SiZhui who has the benefit of being from the next generation lol) ever displays. Considering how Wen RuoHan protected Meng Yao in the Sun Palace with Extreme Force, I like to think Wen RuoHan really doesn't mess around with the safety of his kids (with Meng Yao as honorary kid). Even Wen Qing and Wen Ning had ZERO fear running around as they did right after the massacre of Lotus Pier. No one and nothing is going to harm them--not with Wen RuoHan around.

(As a side note, Wen Qing said she wouldn’t be able to protect Wen Ning from Wen Chao if Wen Chao really wanted to kill him, but there is no mention of harm coming from Wen RuoHan. It really does sound like a sibling spat of “He’s going to fucking kill you when he finds out you ate his pudding and there is NOTHING I can do to stop him.”)

With all that said!! I really like your headcanon that Wen RuoHan wasn't close with his own parents and thus having no idea how to parent. It makes me sad, but in a good way lol So I'm definitely willing to run with you on it! Although I love the idea that Wen RuoHan is trying to be different than the generation before him. His parents weren't close to him, so he is close to his own children. He cultivated to a high level because no one was around to protect him, so he makes sure he's around to protect them. Wen ZhuLiu is an extension of Wen RuoHan and it shows when he protects Wen Chao, despite not liking the kid in the slightest.

So Wen Chao grows up spoiled and Wen Ning grows up fearless and Wen Qing grows up prideful because Wen RuoHan is just one letter away and no one wants to mess with Wen RuoHan.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Stripping Point

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E (explicit sexual content) Word count: 6387

Happy Birthday, @spiderman-homecomeme​!

Summary: Peter's ready to turn his new hobby into a profitable sideline. Unfortunately, he writes down his very first client's address incorrectly and shows up at the wrong house.

MJ opens the door to find some guy dressed as Spider-Man and decides the best way to mess with him is to let him stay. Almost immediately, she loses the upper hand.

Quarantine puts people out of work. A lotta people at first, then less, but never Peter. He keeps shooting for the Bugle, lugging his camera all over the city (instead of squeezing onto buses and subway cars that never really get that much less crowded) while he breathes heavily through his mask. He only takes pictures at outdoor spaces to try to avoid both crowds and loners who hassle him for taking preventative measures during the pandemic. They’re stressed, he gets that, but Peter doesn’t wanna be anywhere near conflict. Spider-Man, on the other hand… Well, when he puts on that mask, it’s pretty much business as usual. He appreciates his face covering more than ever and, hey, it’s cool to do a job with social distancing built in.

His gratitude for the web-slinging side-gig only increases as the weeks of pandemic life stretch into months and Jameson starts ordering him back into situations that are just plain stupid from a health perspective. Never mind that he got kinda accidentally stabbed the other week. It’s a totally different set of dangers. Peter resists the new assignments and because Jameson’ll be in deep shit if his number one Spider-Man photographer makes a fuss about working conditions (and because people are getting so desperate for employment that he can pay a new hire even less than Peter’s paltry freelancing rate), the Bugle shells out for another photographer to cover the work Peter won’t do. Good for Peter’s health, bad for Peter’s bank account―which is already whimpering with hunger pangs from sitting near-empty after paying rent. This gets him thinking. It might be time to turn his early-quarantine hobby into his mid-to-late-quarantine money-maker.

Yeah, pandemic hobbies! By April, it seemed to him like everybody was picking something up. Bread-making, yoga, sewing masks for healthcare workers left criminally under-equipped. The hobby Peter picked up, well… it’s a little different. He began practicing it indoors (obviously), by himself, and with skills gained from reading and watching material on the internet. In those ways, it’s a lot like other people’s hobbies. In some other ways, it’s very, very different. Like, instead of putting on specialized clothing like an apron or yoga pants, Peter’s hobby requires taking clothes off. It’s stripping. Peter’s hobby is stripping.

A few things led to him picking that over sourdough or Sun Salutations. Peter loves not only old movies but also old music. Old movies with iconic dance scenes? That’s, like, the perfect combo. He spends a lot of his downtime playing music in his apartment and, when he’s not wiped or injured, dancing along. He figures it’s good for his mood as well as his fitness. Seriously, he can only do so many chin-ups on the metal bar braced in his bathroom doorframe (which is starting to crack). Patrick Swayze’s solo routine from the end of Dirty Dancing is way more fun, even if Peter did tear the knees on a couple pairs of sweatpants because of it. The more music he listened to, the more he started freestyling his own moves in between those of leading men. It was that―trying to create something good of his own―that helped him understand the routines he watched. He figured out the balance between precision and sex appeal and somewhere in there, he realized he was performing for an audience in his head. And what this imaginary audience wanted wasn’t always the goofiness of acting out Risky Business and sliding across the short strip of bare floor between his kitchen and living room in socks, underwear, and a white shirt. Sometimes, the audience wanted him to lose the shirt.

At that point, Peter was once again wandering out of what he knew. He was comfortable with movie dances, had a little of his own repertoire, but he lacked this extra element of storytelling; it was the one that took him from fully dressed down to boxers and socks without tripping and struggling and falling into his meager possessions. That was when he turned to the internet and confronted the fact that he wanted to learn how to strip. If he happened to stumble into related tutorials on how to give a lap dance, who would know? Who was there to judge Peter as he performed for an empty kitchen chair, dragging his hand along the back and body-rolling to buck his hips towards where someone’s face would be? Yeah, it was kinda embarrassing while he was learning, but he had the endurance to try a move over and over until he nailed it, the strength to draw out isolated movements like twitching his hips to keep his butt drawing circles on the lap of his invisible patron, and the overall coordination of, well, Spider-Man. Which ends up being the most important piece of all because, when Peter decides to take his show on the road (or at least out of his tiny apartment), his ‘stage’ name requires about a second of thought. Spider-Man. He’ll go by Spider-Man. He laughs his ass off when he thinks of it. It’s fucking genius! Spider-Man stripping as himself is the last thing anyone would ever suspect!

Naturally, Peter can’t use any of his actual Spidey suits. Those would probably give him away. Also, he’d feel weird about having Karen’s voice in his ear while he flexed his abs next to somebody’s head. Fortunately, after a little digging―which turns into a lot of digging and leaves his room a mess of comingled clean and dirty clothes―he finds his original suit. The zip-up hoodie plus sweatpants one. Yeah, its technological capabilities are basically zero, it’s a little grimy, and too tight, but he doesn’t need it to do anything besides come off. The wear-and-tear will lend genuine-fake authenticity to his character and the snugness around his more developed muscles (it’s been a decade since he wore it last) will make it… sexier? He guesses? The most important thing is the mask, which is the only part of his costume he won’t strip off. Apart from his underwear, obviously. He’s not that wild.

He gets to work cutting a vertical line up each leg of his sweatpants, then sews in snaps. Boom, tearaways. They look kinda shitty, but if he’s any good at all, whoever he dances for shouldn’t be staring at loose threads.

So Peter has his moves, his costume, a few songs in mind, and no engagements. Oh, he thinks he can figure out how to get jobs, it’s just that he somehow keeps coming home, sitting down to compose his ad, and then doing something completely different instead. He’s truly scared witless. Nobody’ll see your face, he chants in his mind to psych himself up every time he’s heading home to his apartment. Still, he freezes at his laptop. There’s nothing about his body that he’s ashamed of―he uses it every single day to help people as Spider-Man. Maybe it’s that, this time, he’d be using it to help himself. Is he a monster for making a buck off his superhero persona? Peter holds onto that question for about a week until the date to pay rent is approaching and his bank account shudders in horror. Ok, money’s tight and he hasn’t been hit by a car lately, so he won’t freak anybody out with road rash or bruising or more of his hand-sewing to close gashes. With a little self-pedicure here and hair-removal there, Peter looks at himself in his bathroom mirror and decides this is as good a time as any.

He advertises online and his hands are still trembling when he gets a call from an unfamiliar number ten minutes after his ad goes live. The ringing phone actually makes him jump. It’s probably a telemarketer, or a wrong number. Nobody would call him with a job this fast. He was counting on having at least a day to sit with the choice he made. Peter fumbles for the phone and answers. For the next minute and a half, he struggles to hear the woman’s voice over the blood rushing in his ears. She thinks he’s the Spider-Man Stripper. He is the Spider-Man Stripper. This is hilarious and terrifying and oddly similar to the brief moment of freefall between slinging one web and the next as he darts around Midtown. Her friend’s birthday party, she tells him, two days from now. Something else she planned (Peter’s adjusting his sweaty, slipping grip on his phone and misses the details) fell through and if he can be the entertainment for a half-hour or so it would save both the party and her friendship. Not to add extra pressure, she jokes, laughing. The sound Peter makes is a weak echo. So can he be there? Is there space in his schedule? He pretends to check that ‘schedule’ so she doesn’t think he’s a total amateur. Yep, yep, he has an opening for her. She has an opening for him, she flirts back, making his eyes go wide as he clutches the phone. God, why couldn’t his first gig have been for some 22-year-old’s bachelorette instead of this middle-aged-sounding woman who possibly wants to eat him alive? By the time she’s telling him her address, Peter’s hands are shaking worse than ever, he can’t immediately find a pen, and she reels it off to him way too quickly. He’s scrawling the address on his arm and right as he opens his mouth to ask her to repeat it, she hangs up. He peers at his arm doubtfully. Should he call her back for confirmation? No, he doesn’t have the guts. Anyway, he can figure this out. The street name was Woodman, right? Or was it Woodlawn? And the number was 712. Or 271. There was definitely a 7 in there somewhere. And his client’s name was… Lisa? Lana. Maybe Linda?

Peter cradles his face in his hands and groans. When his phone starts ringing again―different number―he frantically declines the call, then deletes his ad. One job at a time. Even that, he now thinks, seems ambitious.

―

MJ’s glad she’s not the one throwing this party together. As Liz’s best friend, it’s Betty who took the reins, organizing and then scrapping everything more than once as New York moved from phase to phase during this pandemic. The end result is still less than what MJ knows Betty wants; ideally, there would be more than a handful of guests and things like shiny helium balloons and fancy desserts would be hand-delivered to Liz’s front door on the day of the party. Instead, MJ sits on the arm of Liz’s couch as she inflates yet another latex balloon the good old-fashioned way: blowing it up by mouth until she’s dizzy.

Cindy stomps over and plops down next to her, snatching a balloon from the party pack of 50 (and Betty insists they need them all). She’s been banished from cupcake decorating. MJ would offer a word or two of sympathy, but balloon duty has the prior claim on how she spends her breaths. All she can do is toss Cindy a plastic tiara (Betty bought one―just one!―reading ‘Mom-to-Be’ for Liz, but the online shop screwed up her order and sent two dozen ‘Birthday Girl’ tiaras in its place) after tying off her finished balloon. MJ’s already wearing one. Meanwhile, the tiara-less Mom-to-Be is being driven around the block a million times by her cousin because they’re having the party at Liz’s place and Betty wants the decorations to be a surprise. Liz’s husband, more simply, was banished for the entire day. MJ originally thought they could’ve put him to work, since it’s pretty hectic, but she’s too oxygen-deprived to worry anymore.

Finally, Betty declares from the kitchen that she’s frosted her final cupcake. MJ begs for a reprieve from balloon-inflating and Betty, feeling accomplished and generous, agrees they probably have enough balloons now. Cindy casts her half-inflated one away in disgust before going to help Betty clean up baking ingredients and do dishes. MJ does her best to shoo the balloons to one side of the living room, then carries spare chairs in because their couch won’t fit everyone. Fortunately, they’ve all been recently tested for illness and been vigilant hand-washers and mask-wearers since then, so at least she doesn’t have to find a way to keep every seat six feet apart. She’s just positioning a final chair, still a little out of breath from the balloons, when the doorbell rings. In the kitchen, Betty screams.

“IT’S STILL A MESS IN HERE! STALL HER!”

“’K!” MJ agrees.

She kicks a couple stray balloons out of her path and goes to get the door. They weren’t supposed to come back to the house until Betty texted, but maybe they got tired of driving around, or Liz started feeling carsick. MJ knows she’s been pretty delicate her entire pregnancy with twins floating around in her uterus like a pair of nausea-inducing astronauts.

As she opens the door wide, she sucks in a deep breath to call out a sarcastic ‘Surprise!’ But it’s not Liz and her cousin. It’s… a guy? In a red and blue costume. She thinks it’s a guy. She can’t even see the person’s face, but when MJ reaches up to self-consciously adjust her ‘Birthday Girl’ tiara, they tilt their head and seem to follow her movement.

“Oh! I’m here for you! You’re… not what I was expecting.” It’s a masculine laugh. Young. Nervous.

She crosses her arms suspiciously.

“You’re not what I was expecting either,” she accuses.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “I guess it was supposed to be a surprise.”

What? Betty might have planned a few surprises for today, but MJ does not recall a dude in a mismatched sweatsuit being one of them.

“Guess so,” she says slowly.

“Sorry, I’m, uh, Spider-Man.” He gestures to the costume. Well, she can kinda see the very distant resemblance to what the real Spider-Man wears; there is a crudely-drawn spider on the chest.

“Uh huh.”

MJ’s suspicion is shifting into amusement―this guy really seems to think he has an invitation―when Cindy comes up behind her. MJ darts a look at her friend and is glad Cindy’s no longer sporting her own tiara. No need to confuse this poor… Spider-Man impersonator.

“What’s up?” Cindy asks, poking her chin over MJ’s shoulder, happier now that she’s fled the tasks Betty continually assigns.

“Hey,” says ‘Spider-Man’. “I, uh, I was hired to, uh, dance for the, um…” He gestures at MJ’s tiara. “…birthday girl.”

At ‘dance,’ MJ’s eyebrows shoot up. She looks quickly at Cindy and realizes she’s going to say something. Cindy will handle this how she handles any inconvenience or anomaly: with forthrightness and concision. She’ll have this faux-venger hitting the road before MJ can blink. With a short, friendly laugh towards Spider-Man, MJ angles herself to block Cindy from view and locks eyes with her friend. Cindy’s face says, What are you doing? We don’t know this guy. MJ’s counters with, Let’s see how this plays out. Cindy rolls her eyes, but nods, so MJ steps away from her again.

“As long as you haven’t traveled outside the country in the last fourteen days or experienced symptoms of fever, etcetera etcetera, come on in,” Cindy invites, gesturing Spider-Man through the doorway. “I’m so sorry, but we were running a little behind with the food, so I have to disappear back to the kitchen. But why don’t you get started for her?”

“Cindy,” MJ hisses as she closes the door. “You have to stay.”

“I believe the man said he was here for the birthday girl.”

Cindy smirks and they both glance over to see that Spider-Man has found the speaker and connected his phone. Something catches MJ’s eye and her gaze skims down his leg. What’s up with the side of his pants?

“I’m not the birthday girl,” she reminds Cindy in a panicked whisper. “There is no birthday girl.”

“Well, in her absence, it looks like you’re the one getting her presents. Careful with that one.”

“Because it seems fragile?”

“Because I feel like it’s the kind that comes with a big package.”

Cindy pokes MJ hard in the side and flees when she squirms away. MJ glares after her. Yes, she’s curious about what the hell this impersonator’s doing here in that crappy costume, but it’s so much easier to be curious when she can observe something unfolding without actively having to participate. What she was thinking was that he’d come in and the three of them―Betty, Cindy, and herself―would see how far this went before something either gave them away as not being the people who ‘hired’ him (so he claims), or the guy crumbled under the quavering weight of his own anxiety. Nothing about his look or his manner announces experience. Now, MJ’s on her own as she takes a seat in one of the chairs she brought in. She crosses her legs, bobs her foot, and hopes to hell that Spider-Man’s a breakdancer.

“Listen…” she begins to say, leaning forward to address him, but as she speaks, he turns up the volume and her uncertain voice is drowned out by chimes tinkling above throbbing bass. Oh no.

It’s the tempo that scares MJ. She thinks she could deal with a rabbiting drum intro or the bright squeal of quick fingers on an electric guitar. This song is tauntingly slow and it’s obvious, by how Spider-Man turns in her direction and walks to her with measured steps, that what she’s about to experience will look nothing like handstands or the worm, nothing youthfully, recklessly acrobatic. It’s also clear that she’s in this alone now because the guy putting his back to her and swirling his hips with agonizing slowness as the gravelly vocals come in is in some kind of zone she can’t follow him into.

When I look in your eyes… the song goes. …I can feel the fire.

Nope, MJ’s outside of this, in the real world, where she hears him lower the zipper on his sweatshirt. When he rotates to face her, taking his time, she finds her hands are gripping the seat on either side of her thighs.

A see-through disguise can’t conceal desire.

Spider-Man’s disguise is hardly see-through―seriously, he must’ve been sweltering in those sweats on his way here―but it’s open now, from his clavicle down to where the band of his pants grips his taut abdomen. He probably can’t hear the groan that pushes out of her mouth when she’s just trying to exhale. God, please let the music cover it, MJ thinks. His hood’s still up as he steps even closer to her chair, subtly twitching his hips in her direction, and the ends of his sweatshirt dangle, flashing glimpses of more chest, more abs. MJ swallows and reminds herself that this is all kind of a joke. That she’s the one indulging him and they’ll laugh when this is over. She’ll apologize for the mix-up and he’ll shrug it off as he accepts monetary compensation for his time.

I’ve been readin’ your lips… the singer announces in a louder growl. Spider-Man abruptly strips the blue sleeves from his costume, leaving his torso bare beneath what’s now just a hooded red vest. He’s a fake superhero, but those arms are the real deal. Wow. …they don’t need no translation.

He widens his stance, drawing her eye down to his solid-looking thigh, then slides his hand across her shoulder to grip the back of her chair. His hips roll forward and she instinctively uncrosses her legs. With the extra room, Spider-Man briefly presses his thigh to hers. It scrunches the hem of her dress up before dragging it back down as he retreats. It’s reasonably innocent, likely not even intentional, but heat flares up MJ’s face like one of the candles she might blow out if this were actually her birthday. Honestly, she keeps forgetting it’s not.

They want more than a kiss, I come to make my donation.

Ok, she feels more than just thigh when he glides higher on her lap. MJ automatically flicks her gaze lower, because he’s a stranger and right in her space, and it lands on his groin. Spider-Man bucks suggestively and MJ immediately raises her eyes from the bump in the front of his close-fitting sweatpants. Jesus, is it warm in here? Somebody should do something about that before Liz gets home, fiddle with the thermostat or, or something…

So turn out the lights! the singer’s voice rockets up and goosebumps ripple up MJ’s arms as Spider-Man’s hands smooth down them in his fingerless gloves. He bounces low into a crouch and can’t be more than an inch away from the fabric of her dress as he rolls up her body, face in her lap for, I’m goin’ down slowly. Her pounding heart and rapid breathing almost push her boobs into his forehead when he reaches her chest.

Don’t tell me what’s right, just tell me you want me.

When their heads are level, Spider-Man surprises her by sitting lightly on her lap, nearly chest-to-chest. He takes her hands in his―MJ’s sufficiently stunned to allow him to break her grip on the seat―and guides them to his head, making her push his hood off. It’s strange to feel the mask under her palms. Wondering what his hair looks like really shouldn’t be a main concern right now.

Oh, tell me you want me. Just tell me you want me, want me, want me!

The more insistent the song becomes, the more persuasively Spider-Man gyrates in her lap. Sliding a hand over his head shouldn’t be this seductive without visible hair to push his fingers through, but the way his arm bulges with the motion makes up for it, in her opinion. MJ doesn’t know what to do with her hands. They hover in the air between their bodies.

Let’s make it, baby! the song explodes as he thrusts forward powerfully, throwing his head back.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

His hands go to his shoulders.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

He works his vest off, revealing the rest of his chest.

Let’s make it, baby!

He flings the vest toward the sofa. MJ doesn’t know whether or not it lands there. She doesn’t turn to look. This is… more muscle than she’s ever seen in person on a single human body. Once more, he takes hold of the back of her chair, but it’s with both hands now and his forearms squeeze her in, compelling her to lean forward as he grinds across her lap, forward and back, to, Come, come, come a little bit closer. His face angles into her neck; she feels his nose brush her skin through the mask. She can hear him breathing and it electrifies her. The only reason she clamps her thighs together like she does is to give him more room to straddle her. Really, it’s for his comfort, as a professional. Because this is all just… very professional.

She hasn’t determined where to lay her hands, which is fine because he has another use for them.

I wanna play doctor, the singer drawls while Spider-Man brings her hands to his pecs. Is his heart beating as hard under there as hers is right now or is she imagining it? He effortlessly takes gentle hold of her wrists and encourages her hands down his body. She doesn’t even notice when he lets her go to peel the gloves from his hands and push his sneakers off, leaving MJ to trace the thick, defined ridges of his abdomen.

It keeps gettin’ harder, harder, harder to keep it away!

With the end of the line, Spider-Man rips the sweatpants off―a series of metallic popping sounds too close together to count. Not that counting’s on her mind. Eyeing the cherry-red boxer-briefs that are even tighter than the sweats, she swallows. She can’t remember how to exist on the outside of this. She can’t find the door. Believing that this guy―who’s not really Spider-Man, just like she’s not really a birthday girl―understands, that they’re sharing the scorching intimacy she suddenly feels, is naïve. MJ is not naïve. She just can’t exactly explain why what should be an obvious (skillful, but obvious) pantomime of sex is working on her like real foreplay.

I wanna taste the sweat…

She swears he’s breathing harder than the dancing alone can explain when he palms her knees and pries them apart. Her legs are slack and willing. She is sweating.

…that’s runnin’ over your body.

Tucking his fingers into the backs of her knees, Spider-Man jerks her forward on her seat. It raises her hem to mid-thigh and her pulse to low orbit. He hikes her legs around his hips and she crosses her wrists behind his neck without guidance as he stays in what has to be a strenuous squat to body-roll. Everything comes forward in a delicious wave, from his shoulders to his crotch. From lots of angles, it probably looks like he’s fucking her into Liz’s kitchen chair.

In actuality, there’s no contact between them―not anyplace interesting―until…

Get the sheets all wet!

MJ doesn’t know if his hips nudge between her legs accidentally or intentionally on an overzealous roll. She’s never been given a lap dance before! Is this right? Is this permitted? He seems ready to run with it, repeating the action with greater certainty.

Yeah, I wanna make ya feel nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-naughty!

When the singer quits stuttering out the word, Spider-Man lifts MJ right off the chair into his arms. She inhales hard, desperate for air as the song returns to, Let’s make it, baby! And let’s make it, baby! Well, let’s make it, baby! And let’s make it, baby, baby! He has one hand grasping the underside of her thigh, the other clutching the middle of her back. He thrusts toward her through the chorus, shy of nudging the way he did before. The motion sways MJ fairly gently, thanks to his sure grip and ability to carry her weight with ease, but she might as well be tumbling around inside a washing machine for all she currently knows of up and down.

The animal urgency of the chorus drops down to the slow lull of instrumentals and Spider-Man sets MJ on her feet. She just about rolls her ankle and plans to never admit this made her weak in the knees. As irregular drumbeats keep her on edge, he sneaks around behind her and takes her wrists, raising her arms over her head as she fights the instinct to turn and stare at this guy’s mostly-naked body. She hasn’t dated anyone since before the pandemic, but it’s more than that. While she holds her arms up there, Spider-Man rocks against her from behind, the inside of his thigh rubbing the outside of hers, messing up her skirt, confusing her heartbeat. His hands clamp down on her hips and work them in a circular motion with her ass pressed directly against him.

Wait.

―

Peter’s hard. Of all the things that have definitely gone wrong (having to make up a routine from scratch after blanking in the face of a woman 20 years younger and 500 times more beautiful than who he expected to find) and probably gone wrong (he hasn’t shaken the exhilarating feeling that he’s almost certainly at the wrong house), this is the most serious. He’s in so, so far over his head and sinking deeper, metaphorically, as the woman he’s wrapped around cautiously returns the pressure, pressing his erection.

He was so nervous after meeting her that he went straight to setting up his music and forgot to ask for her name. It’s not like he can casually ask now. It feels like things have gone too far for that. Wasn’t he supposed to feel some layer of detachment, doing this? Stripping’s supposed to be a part-time job, like taking pictures for the Bugle. Maybe he’s too used to caring about people to set himself apart from this. Maybe it’s the shock of her youth and the feeling of touching a real-live person after practicing with an empty chair over months of physical distancing.

Maybe he’s just horny.

The instrumental section goes on and on and Peter yearns. This is a job, he thinks, running his hands up to her waist and back to her hips. As the musical intermission’s finally drawing to a close, he improvises again, scooping the woman up into his arms in a bridal carry just to eliminate the sweet friction against his dick. Where does he go from here? He knows what the tutorials told him, what really gets the target of a lap dance/strip show going. Could go with the couch and push his red vest aside, but the soft rug underfoot beckons.

Now turn out the lights! Bon Jovi rasps as Peter moves gradually to his knees and nuzzles his masked face into the woman’s chest because, at this point, why the hell not? She smells so good. He hears her gasp, then her fingers dig fleetingly into the back of his neck like she wants to hold him there. But she lets go and he lays her on her back in the valley created by leisurely-migrating silver balloons. The light refracted on the woman’s face is crisp and ethereal.

Don’t tell me you love, love me, no… Just, just tell me you want me.

Peter springs on top of her, arms braced and locked, and performs an exaggerated horizontal roll, his hips close above hers. This is the million-dollar (or, like, twenty-dollar) move. The one that unambiguously mimics sex. Though it’s so overstated, so dramatic, the tutorials claimed that, by this stage, the person being performed for would be so wound up, so aroused, that they’d just about believe it was the real thing. He watches the woman’s shaky breathing and flushed cheeks, feels her hands caress his abs, and thinks he’s doing pretty damn good. Too bad he can’t count this as a performance. The desire he feels when he lowers himself closer to her is not an act.

Don’t tell me you love me.

The skin-tight front of his underwear skims her dress. And, though she should really keep her legs out straight to do her part in preserving the distance between them (because he’s fucking failing), she slides her foot along the floor, raising her knee. Peter snatches hold of that knee with the feeling that they just signed some kind of contract and grinds himself against the fold of skirt between her legs. The woman’s chest heaves as she pants. His balls ache for him to stop playing.

Oh, tell me you want me, want me, want me, want me, want me, want me, want me! Bon Jovi and Peter’s sex drive demand, from a rumble up to a scream. Let’s make it, baby!

The woman beneath him tosses her head and bats away a balloon that clings to her hair. Her birthday crown’s askew.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

Peter’s hand is on her ribcage, too near her breast.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

He huffs, loud inside his mask, as he thrusts against her like she’s not some accident, like she asked him to meet her here. For this.

And let’s make it, baby!

Distinct lyrics burst into a high, expressive shriek of noise that sounds enough like a woman being pleasured to send a tingle up Peter’s spine. He grinds down hard, gripping the woman’s hip. By the second shriek, her back’s bowing, her hands commandingly squeezing his arms. By the third, she’s moaning as she rocks against him, tearing an appreciative grunt from him in response. The fourth shriek finishes her right before the song. Peter’s breathing hard on top of her, on the jaw-clenching edge of climax himself, feeling her writhe as the music fades out. It just leaves the two of them here, damningly entangled.

After a long silence, his playlist moves on. Peter stares down at her another few seconds as she strokes her fingers across her mouth, then her eyes snap to where she can’t see his through the goggles.

“Oh shit,” he mutters.

The woman laughs awkwardly like those two words are an understatement for the degree to which this has not gone as planned. She didn’t even know the plan, but anyone would know this was not the intended conclusion―a stripper dressed up in a novelty Spider-Man costume should excite, entertain, inspire lust. But he should stop short of dry-humping his client to completion. Yeah, that has to be an unwritten rule someplace. Peter really shouldn’t have needed to read it to know better though. This has just gotten incredibly out of hand and he has no idea what to say or do.

“LIZ IS ON HER WAY!” a female voice yells from the back of the house, maybe the kitchen that the other woman vanished into earlier.

Peter jerks to his feet, still rigid in the front of his underwear. He thinks the woman he just, uh, danced for is requesting help up, but she’s actually pointing. He looks and sees the bathroom just off the stairs.

“I’m good,” she says. “Go before Cindy sees you.”

Snagging his pants from the floor and the vest portion of his sweatshirt from the couch, Peter bolts for the bathroom as the woman sits up from the rug. Inside, his hands quake with adrenaline as he zips his sweatshirt and refastens all the snaps on his pants. He does his best to adjust things so his waning erection’s not too obvious. For a minute, he yanks the mask from his head and stares at himself in the mirror as he breathes. This is not the side-hustle for him. This was his first and last gig as the Spider-Man Stripper.

Mask back on, he returns to the front room to find the woman he was grinding all over standing with her arms crossed protectively as her friend appears to grill her under her breath. They both look at him as he stuffs his feet back into his shoes and grabs his gloves and the blue sleeves of his sweatshirt. He’ll just carry them. If he stood here and began redoing them, he’d probably die from mortification before he got the last snap snapped. He collects his phone, stopping the music mid-song. He doesn’t know what’s playing. Could be his favourite song in the world and he wouldn’t be able to hear it right now over the volume of the look his ‘birthday girl’ is giving him.

“I’ll just, um, show you out,” she offers, shepherding him away from the woman he takes to be Cindy. She doesn’t volunteer anything about the other person, Liz, who they seem to be expecting.

“Great.”

He’s thankful that Cindy gives them a little space and doesn’t follow. They pause in the entranceway. The woman presses two fifties into his hand, avoiding eye contact. Peter clears his dry throat and nods, closing his fingers over the money because he’s more uncomfortable about the idea of prolonging this with a back-and-forth over him saying it’s too much while she insists than he is about the idea that she’s kinda paying him for sex, even if thinks she doesn’t mean to.

She pulls the door open and Peter jumps aside for two women, one very pregnant. There’s a flurry of voices all of a sudden and when he slips outside onto the step before someone can ask who he is and what he’s doing here, he doesn’t expect the birthday girl to come after him.

“MJ,” she blurts out.

He grins under the mask.

“Peter.”

He never gets to tell people that when he’s in disguise, but she doesn’t know he really is Spider-Man. The honesty feels good.

“So, that was…”

“This wasn’t supposed to be… Um,” he starts again, swinging his arms slightly. “That was my first time. Doing this. I’ve never done a routine for anybody before, so I want you to know I haven’t, like, done that with a bunch of people. I’ve never done this. And I think, uh, based on what happened in there, that I probably shouldn’t.” Peter’s laugh is strained. “I really don’t―”

“Do you want my number?”

He chokes.

“What?”

“I… thought I might as well ask,” she says, clearly self-conscious, looking prepared for rejection.

“No, of course I do,” Peter tells her quickly, holding out his phone. “Please.”

“Ok.” MJ gives him a quick smile, then looks at his screen as she adds herself as a contact. He’s grateful she’s the one putting the numbers in. He really can’t be trusted with that. Peter’s not nervous now, just excited as he thinks about using the money she gave him to buy her dinner.

Though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, he says, “This isn’t the right house, is it?” as she hands his phone back. She laughs.

“No.”

“Yeah, I… kinda had a feeling.”

“Hey, whoever she was, her loss was my gain,” MJ says bluntly, then blushes hard. Peter chuckles to himself, looking down.

“Ummm…”

“Well, I should get in there. Baby shower.”

“Right, yeah, sure, you gotta.”

“But call me.”

“I will. I definitely will.”

“Maybe you can even show me what you look like without the mask,” she says.

Peter nods, body nothing but a cage for a butterfly swarm, then turns. Behind him, he hears Cindy’s voice as MJ steps back inside.

“Did you just give him a hundred bucks?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what you owe me for going in on the stroller!”

“I’ll go to the bank and take out another hundred right after the party if you want,” MJ offers, sounding unconcerned.

“But a hundred bucks? MJ, he was here for ten minutes!”

“Trust me, Peter earned it.”

“Peter?! That’s Spider-Man’s name?”

“Cindy, come on, he’s not actually Spider-Man.”

The door shuts. Of course he’s not. Peter could no more be Spider-Man than he could fall half in love with a woman simply because of the way she smelled and the fact that she wouldn’t let him off the hook for a lap dance. He starts down the sidewalk with a skip, smiling wide beneath his mask.

[crowsent]

I just read your essay on why Akiren has 0 social stats at the beginning of the game and I completely agree with you. I have another question for you though. Why do you think Yu and Minato had 0 social stats at the beginning of their games? Maybe for Minato it’s because he numbed himself to the world due the trauma of his parents’ deaths. For Yu, I think it might be him trying not to get attached to people since he’s only going to be there for a year.

minato’s reason is definitely bc of his apathy. homeboi looked yukari dead in the eyes and asked “Is dying really that scary to you?” he lives his life in apathy which is a nice nice tie-in for the in-game apathy syndrome thing.

in P3, minato’s journey was about him learning the value of life. forming mortal connections that grew so powerful that he chose to become the great seal to protect the world. throughout the game, some of his dialogue options actively break social links and you as a player have to work to keep those links intact. and there’s the manner of summoning personas.

the 0 social stats for minato is likely because he has no reason to better himself. he’s just there. its more noticeable in the movie but early game minato is an apathetic empty mess. only when you advance in the game and form bonds w people does minato seem like he’s actually enjoying life. the rise of social stats is probably minato actually learning those skills.

notice that he only has 3 stats to raise: charm, intelligence, and courage. those 3 make sense to be the stats he focuses on throughout the game. academics is easily improved by studying. charm can easily be interpreted as how comfortable he is with himself. courage is. courage. and these 3 tie in the game’s theme nicely. p3′s central theme i think is accepting death. loss. grief. feeling emotion and destroying apathy. as minato raises his stats throughout the game, he equips himself with the necessary tools to handle loss and death.

max stat end game minato is simply him actually growing as a person and slowly beginning to enjoy life. he learns to enjoy life so much that he gives his own to protect the lives of everything else and im still not fucking over it.

.

for yu, admittedly, im not. that familiar w his story. i havent played p4 in a long long time but p4 is essentially about finding the truth, never giving in to ignorance, etc. its been really long yall.

p4′s story is more straightforward than 3 and 5 so i think yu’s stat progression is also a bit more linear and not as complicated. it’s straightforward. 3 has an existential crisis with judeo-christian undertones and conspiracies and the whole shinjiro-ken debacle and lots of conflicting motives from the sees on why they’re fighting. yukari has her father, ken has revenge, mitsuru has the kirijo name, etc. 5 is a heist movie turned into a game with all of the twists and turns heist movies have and all the PTs have their own reasons for pursuing justice.

with p4, their sole motivation is to uncover the truth. all of them have that one thing in mind and they all work together towards that goal. there are definitely bumps along the road but all of them want to get to the bottom of the matter. to uncover what the fog’s been hiding, to answer all the mysteries they’ve been presented with.

on that note, yu is probably developing his skills for the sake of developing his skills. he has responsibility as leader and senpai to be on top of everything and to be someone his team can rely on. all of them are stumbling in the dark. p3 has mitsuru and akihiko who help guide minato. p5 has morgana and igor who do the same thing for akiren. p4 has no one. teddy knows almost nothing about the shadow world. teddy has a very loose identity (and it becomes a plot point for him) and yu has to lead every single one of the IT through nothing.

so that would be a big reason for him to improve his stats. he wants to be better for his team. he wants to be someone they can depend on. he wants to be needed and be connected with them. (he loved his team so much that he imagined the whole trapped in inaba forever sequence) his stat improvement is him wanting to be better for the sake of being better. so he can explore more of the shadow world. so he can connect deeper with his friends and his team.

imo p4 did a better job w the whole connecting thing than 3 or 5. 3 is overshadowed by the plot. the whole “beat a shadow to advance confidant” thing in 5 was handled poorly. 4 focused on the slink and slink alone so there was more development. plus branching dialogue that’s affected by the previous slink rank. you can feel like youre actually connecting with these people so you want to know them better and to know them better you need to improve your stats so you improve your stats.

.

in summary.

persona 5 - protagonist starts with 0 (zero) stats because society told him that he’s nothing more than criminal scum which heavily affected his cognition of himself, leading to akiren believing that his stats actually ARE at 0 even though theyre not

persona 3 - protagonist starts with 0 (zero) stats not for lack of trying, but because minato arisato literally did not care about life or death and only gained stats as he overcame his apathy

persona 4 - protagonist starts with 0 (zero) stats because yuu actually starts closest TO 0 stats and his journey throughout the game is a progression of his own personal growth as he strives to better himself for the sake of his team and friends

[violentviolette]

So I was on your fandom blog and I saw that you believe Bakugou (at least in assuming) to have ASPD. Is wondering if you could expand on that? I personally see him as NPD but I'd love to hear your side of things

first off anon bless u for being on my fandom blog that takes courage cause it’s a wicked hot mess over there lol and secondly to everyone else yes im about to spend an embarrassing amount of effort overanalyzing an anime man, no u shouldn’t apply this logic to diagnosing real people u don’t know or urself, no its not that deep but yes u can fuck right off if u wanna cry about me headcanoning ur favs with “shitty” illnesses. eat my dick.

But now down to the good shit! So I actually think bakugou has comorbid aspd/npd. But for this since u said u already see him as having npd I’ll just focus on the aspd criteria but im totally down to talk more about npd as well if u wanna. (the rest is under a cut because frankly mobile users would have drawn and quartered me otherwise)

So first im gonna go thru the dsm v criteria that are required for diagnosis that bakugou fits/exhibits (leaving out the few things that don’t pertain to him just for length and also because not every person has to fit every single criteria to qualify)

1. Significant impairments in personality as manifested by

a. identity (self esteem derived from power, pleasure, or personal gain), self direction (goal setting based on personal gratification, absence of prosocial standards and culturally normal ethical behavior)

katsukis entire sense of self is built upon his ability to “win” and to always be number one and come out on top. He absolutely cant stand to be viewed as less than that because if so, his entire sense of self begins to crumble. Part of the reason he’s so antagonistic towards Izuku in the early chapters is the fact that Izuku challenges that identity. He (unintentionally and intentionally) challenges katsuki and wont give way to him (which is the right thing to do, but we see how “well” katsuki handles that). He also doesn’t have a good sense of “prosocial standards.” katsuki has created his own internal sense of morals and values, he’s decided whats worth his time and effort based on his own opinions and not on what society deems worthwhile behavior. He’s constantly getting admonished that his attitude “isn’t that of a hero” because his values are different than the ones of the society around him. But he doesn’t care, as long as he “wins” then everythings good. And its not until he stops “winning” and his behavior begins to get in the way of his goals does he begin to realize that he has a problem.

b. impairments in interpersonal functioning as manifested by lack of empathy (lack of concern for feelings, needs, or suffering of others) and lack of intimacy (incapacity for mutually intimate relationships, use of dominance or intimidation to control others)

I could frankly write a whole essay about just this bit alone but I’ll try to condense my thoughts. So. Lets talk about katsukis lack of empathy. This boy wouldn’t know another person’s emotions if they walked up and punched him in the face. Which they do. On multiple occasions. But I digress. Katsuki is known for his shitty bedside manner, his lack of concern for the feelings of others is literally what cost him his provisional license, but aside from with Izuku (who we’ve established is a source of Baggage for katsuki and shouldn’t be counted among his normal behavior because at the start of the series they BOTH bring out the worst in one another and overcoming that is part of both of their character arcs and growth and a main theme of the damn story. Win and save. Save and win. Ahem. But again I digress) katsuki isn’t vindictive or cruel in an unnecessary way about other peoples emotions. He doesn’t use them against people, it just doesn’t occur to him that they exist. But as we see katsuki grow and begin to try and change his unhealthy behavior, we see that he’s not oblivious of others emotions in the same way todoroki is (who I headcanon as autistic along with izuku (who also has adhd), but that’s a whole nother post lol), he just doesn’t know what to do with them. He can handle things like kirishima feeling insecure, because he can logically talk to him about how strong he is to encourage and support him, but really struggles with more intimate and open forms of emotional support, like with Izuku.

He also struggles with forming prosocial bonds and friends. At the start of the series katsuki doesn’t have friends, he has lackeys he controls with intimidation and fear because he doesn’t know any other way to be. He has trust and intimacy issues and doesn’t like people getting too close to him because he feels displays of vulnerability are what makes someone weak (see those asocial morals and values we talked about earlier). After his time at UA, a few large helpings of some humble pie, and the diligent and hard work of a small group of fearless idiots (aka kaminari whose literally too prosocial for his own good and has zero self preservation instincts, and kirishima who has an endless supply of patience and understands empathy and other peoples emotions to a degree that’s baffling to me) he is able to start deconstructing that idea and realizing that u can be vulnerable and let people close to u and still be strong. That the mortifying ordeal of being known isn’t actually the worst things ever. Also that when confronted with people who aren’t actually afraid of him, he doesn’t know how else to deter them from getting close to him. The fact that none of the other kids in 1-A take katsukis shit and even go so far as to pick on him and mock him and call him out on his bullshit is a MAJOR turning point for his socialization skills.

2. pathological personality traits in the following catagories

a. antagonism, characterized by hostility (persistent and frequent angry feelings, anger or irritability in response to minor slights or insults, nasty mean vengeful behavior), callousness (lack of concern for the feelings and problems of others)

I mean. Do I even have to expand on this point? I feel like no

b. disinhibition, characterized by impulsivity (acting on the spur of the moment in response to immediate stimuli, acting without a plan or consideration for outcomes, difficulty establishing and following plans), risk taking (lack of concern for ones limitations and denial of the reality of personal danger, engaging in potentially risky and self-damaging activities without regard for consequences)

this is a criteria where u have to adjust for the world these characters are living in. but even then, by hero standards, katsuki is still impulsive. His teachers are constantly admonishing him in the early series for charging headfirst into a situation, loosing himself to his emotions and anger, and letting things get the better of him because hes not taking the time to properly assess the situation, this also bleeds into katsukis inability to work with others or ask for help. He charges headfirst into a situation by himself, blows up anything in his way, and then asks questions later. His teammates are often left totally in the dark to his plans, motives, or other moves and have to just play catch up to him the entire time. In the deku vs. kacchan 1 fight we see this behavior come out in full force. He has no plan, he blows up half the building with zero regard for their goals, and leaves iida completely in the dark. Momo pointing this all out and dragging him for filth during the recap is another wakeup moment for him, having to confront the realities of his impulsive and negative behavior whereas before he was only praised for it.

so if we take a look at even just that, which is still about ¾ of the diagnostic criteria, I think u can see where this really starts to explain his personality. Katsuki is hot headed, angry, impulsive, stubborn, selfish, he gets in his own way more often than not, he struggles with prosocial behavior, making friends, and relating emotionally to others. He has a hard time comforting people and usually does so in a blunt and logical way, he isn’t great at sympathy and being soft, kind, or gentle with other people. It takes a considerable amount of effort for him to realize where his world view and his morals and goals are warped and doing him more harm than good, and he absolutely cant stand to be vulnerable or honest about his feelings with others. 

All those things, imo, as someone with aspd & npd, are what make me feel like hes a good character representation of what the complexities of living with these disorders is like. Katsuki isn’t inherently a bad person, and as we see him grow and change, we see the ways in which hes becoming better, but its still hard for him. And despite what a lot of fandom thinks, if u look at the canon, the main person katsuki hurts with his behavior is himself. And I think that’s really important because people with aspd & npd are so often catagorized as abusive villians whose only goal in life is to hurt others. Whereas with katsuki we see where these things and this kind of thinking gets in the way of his goals and ultimately hurts him. and thats what I think makes him the most relatable and makes his growth all the much more satisfying. Katsuki is both fundamentally the same and an entirely different person from when we first meet him. his personality didn’t magically completely change, hes not just a tsundere whose suddenly all mushy feely and hyper empathetic, he’s just learning how to deal with his emotions and the world and getting better at being a healthy person.

So yea, those are my thoughts! There was apparently a whole 1600 words of them so my apologies for writing u a literal dissertation on this lol I just really love this fucking character

[violetsystems]

#personal

Because of the Internet, cycles of things don’t really follow the same pattern as the older generation is used to.  They think they know obviously.  Their favorite game is called human capital and we are the pawns, bishops and knights on the chessboard for them to sacrifice.  I’m forced to read a lot of financial opinions as an outsider.  For somebody in the aforementioned camp, Mario Gabelli had at least acknowledged that the Fortnite generation has been slowly growing up.  Apps like Robinhood have opened the market up to steal your hard earned pennies.  And then accounts get hacked, money gets stolen, and the older generation laughs and shakes it’s head.  You stupid kids and your lack of motivation.  If you didn’t spend all your time living your life instead of making us money.  I think he forgets like most boomers do that there’s an entire generation after them that was born and bred on Tron.  I didn’t land into the stock market after playing Call of Duty with my bros to be honest.  I melted down a twenty year pension from a place of employment that ghosted, derezzed and ignored my entire identity.  Other people might have traded online through simulations, harvested their bitcoin at the behest of their electric bill or just have rich parents,  I’m not like other people.  We all have figured this out after how many years of writing these to an invisible tribunal of amazing people.  I often read these other perspectives about the financial industry controlled by pundits, investors, and people who generally talk down to the little person like me.  We are what people refer to as “the retail investor.”  We’re written about like the plague mostly because nobody can really control our strategies or bully us into submission.  Much of the idea of retirement is hinged on investments in America.  Social Security is about to run out at some point.  My generation will probably be the first to see my government stiff the bill and run away.  Corporations and working for them at times can be a whirlwind of interconnected dots.  Money and loss on paper becomes a zero sum shell game for the rich.  It’s not about the work you do.  It’s about the money you spend for them.  Donald Trump took a loss for almost two decades which is incidentally how long I was gainfully employed.  A typical artist in America can take a hobby loss for up to five years.  The same artists with no healthcare to speak of.  The fiscal cliff that we all dread is nowhere reflected in the markets.  Neither is the actual driving force behind their profit.  America is a consumer based economy and America is simultaneously shrinking and bursting at the seams.  These are all stitched together by a frail, aging ideology that doesn’t want to let go.  Generation X’ers like myself are used to being forgotten about.  I travelled the world looking for someone to look at me as more than a number.  And now people follow me around because I’m a name on their company registry.  But nobody really ever speaks to me directly.  I’m a dataset and a demographic that only speaks as a number on paper.  Until I do things that the financial elite can’t stand.  I make a decision that is based on things they don’t value.  I choose to put my money elsewhere.  And this is why people hate us.  Because you can’t speculate on chaos that you do not control.  And America is simply profit off of speculation which is a value amounted to 20.83 trillion dollars in debt.  Which doesn’t sound much like it’s in control of anything except printing money.

I grew up on computers.  My mother helped me start my first bulletin board system.  I had my very first phone line in my bedroom around the time wargames came out.  I used to post the number on boards before I had even set up a system like Telegard.  I would advertise it like a mysterious military site out of a Gibson book.  People would call and the modem would pick up the carrier tone and dump them to a blank monochrome screen.  From there my twelve year old self would punk people into thinking I was an AI.  Years later I found a twenty year career in Information Technology in the Arts which abandoned me in a wholly disturbing way.  My knowledge of computers still stayed and those skills kept me alive in these times.  I grew up playing games because I had no friends and suffered horrible bullying.  I was an only child who was ridiculously intelligent but often quiet and ignored.  Years later it’s not so much different.  The bullying is still out there.  America rewards the loud and the forthcoming mostly because it is too lazy to seek out the nuances.  Convenience has warped America’s attention span beyond the regular flow of time.  Computers and connection over the years have rapidly accelerated the dominance of these ideals.  Jobs exist all over the world these days.  Most of the ones I’ve been interested in have been in China.  But due to the circumstances of my situation, I was forced to take a larger sum of income this year than I would have liked.  Sounds terrible right?  No shortage of people trying to scam me into spending it.  Any further income accrued this year becomes taxed horribly.  Ironically, the Illinois fair tax law changes the game even further as retirement income was not taxed before the amendment.  If passed, any retirement income that was not with held will be owed.  Another round of layoffs to liquidate pensions from the bottom line in cities like ours will definitely affect people worse than me down the road.  I’ve been stumbling through the process alone since the end of July.  A lot of what I had done was to part out and budget money in my own way playing a waiting game that I’ve grown used to in my life.  I am at the peak of stagnancy at the moment.  Staring out at another blank screen typing into the void every week while people lift bits and pieces for their own convenient narrative of me and my value in human capital.  Headhunters no longer stalk the internet.  They follow you around in the street with forced intimidation expecting you to read into what they think you deserve to spend the rest of your life doing.  All the while trying to wrap you up back into an ecosystem for less pay, shrinking benefits, and an economic ecosystem of investments of both human and monetary.  Debtors are paired with debtors.  Marriages are arranged for tax purposes and rich oligarchs with political ties find more ways to pay less.  And yet they never really understand the power of connection they do not have.  They don’t communicate.  They project.  They expect you to believe that we’re all in this together when they never hear a word you say.  The only time they listen is when you take your money away.  I’m single.  Never been married.  An only child.  And pretty much an exile on Wall Street with more liquidity and equity suddenly than most people in America.  And much like everyone paying more taxes to a government that has basically turned into a formulaic limp dick reality show.

A reality show that treats me like the Babadook at best these days.  I can’t even leave my house anymore without somebody following me or watching me.  I realize this might just be the hazards of my next pivot into global employment.   I thought these long forms of prose were enough of a background check for the FBI at this point.  It’s called “transparency and accountability” Scully.  I realize ethics aren’t a valuable skill in America.  But the utter lack of human emotion for my situation speaks volumes to me.  And it should be a wakeup call for most who live and work in this dangerous time.  They really don’t give a fuck about us in such a comedic way that they don’t realize our power.  Our power is confidence and they find ways to undermine it.  Tell you that you aren’t beautiful enough so that you spend more money on things you do not need.  Ignore and isolate you until you breakdown and ask for their help.  Until you treat yourself in bankruptcy so they can print more money.  These times are abusive at best in a way that I have never been prepared for.  But those on top don’t really understand how it feels to be under the thumb for years.  I do.  Corporations aren’t human and neither are most rich people.  I realize that life here is literally all about money.  Last night was a very good example of that when I read the news about a game I played shutting down.  I cried because it was the only thing connecting me to anything social without being overbearing and weird.  And I had invested a sizeable amount of my pension in the thought that this might keep the ecosystem alive.  The lesser of two evils of investing.  Put money where you think it will be used fairly and wisely.  Water the garden and watch it grow.  The amazon stock is literally over three grand per share.  They own everything.  They’ve shattered their profits due to the shift from COVID to delivery.  Small businesses shutter.  Hard artistic work is pissed to the wind.  And people like myself are left to wonder why the fuck Jeff Bezos needs any more money from me to treat me like a fucking lab rat.  These companies do not give a fuck about you as a person.  They want your money.  They want to leverage your image, your words, your narrative to push something that doesn’t benefit you at all.  There is no excuse for me to be invisible after all these years let alone from what happened to me in July.  And yet, there is no real way to get back at it.  Other than to completely divest from something that only hurts.  Capitalism is funny that way.  It desperately wants your participation to stay alive.  A two trillion dollar company like Apple cares only about the cut for their investors not the art that drives these bricks that become obsolete in two years.  The reason the old generation is contentious to us is that we see the scam in broad daylight.  We trolled you behind the scenes.  And when we learn the truth, it hurts.  We can always hurt back.  I divest.  I decouple.  I wonder what motivates me as a human being and not a bottom line for some rich fuck who got their way scamming people into thinking they’re worth less so they could have more.  The internet moves pretty fast.  It can all fall apart in a keystroke.  And these people will still be making excuses and not staring us point blank in the eye.  I’ll still be playing video games and you’ll still be investing in what you think you know about me.  Which last time I checked is jack shit other than the fact that it’s safe enough to plant a nuclear physicist under my apartment for a year without me knowing.  Shall we play a game?  See you at the opening bell Jeff!

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told and Update

CW: Spoilers for Baghdad Waltz up to chapter 36 and some non-graphic discussion of childhood sexual abuse 

Hello!!!

Wow, I am so, so sorry for falling off the grid like that. I thought I was going to have WAY more time in October/November to work on the fic and work on fandom stuff in general, but my professional life threw me a huge right hook and I got completely sidetracked for weeks. So I’m off schedule a bit, in terms of having the next chapter. I’m sorry for the delay. 

I’m done with the full draft of Chapter 37 (about 23k - “short” but emotionally very dense) and am working through final revisions now. However, I also had to do an extensive amount of 9/11-related research for it, and part of that research has been reviewing oral histories of New Yorkers from the day of the attacks, and I came to the shocking realization that much of the prologue is historically inaccurate. Moreover, it’s shamefully inconsistent with the way that New Yorkers would respond to such an event. I’m embarrassed by how shoddy of a job I did with it.

Thus, I’m also going to be rewriting the prologue and including more accurate details, both historically and in terms of character dynamics. I mean, there’s no way Bucky could even live in Brooklyn and be a first responder at Ground Zero! All the bridges and tunnels were shut down. Shame on me. There will be ripple effects throughout the entire fic. Sigh. This is just round one of the massive amount of revisions I will be doing to the early chapters of the fic, which I wrote years ago now. I was going to wait to post both at the same time, but I don’t want to make you wait that long. I’ll just give you a notification when I finish the prologue revisions, and it’ll be like a little bonus chapter.

Anyway, here are some asks! Starting with a two-parter

First, thank you for the kind words. I’m glad you’re finding this fic moving. It’s definitely an emotional rollercoaster for these characters, and my hope (I guess?) is to have that be a parallel process for the readers. I think you hit the nail on the head that this relationship is exhausting. And you’re also right that not everyone would have the perseverance to keep coming back to it. It would be so much easier to amputate, pack up and go home. But once these characters get back into each other’s orbit, it’s very challenging for them to not keep crashing back into each other. It’s partially because they just love each other so much, but it’s also because they have an unhealthy relationship dynamic that sets them up for these toxic cycles. This will become especially apparent in the next chapter. They love each other, yes, but they also use each other to fill the gaping holes and insecurities they have within themselves. And they’re horrible communicators to boot. It’s a perfect storm. But at least they are going to try out some of this therapy crap maybe…?? We’ll see!

Along a similar line…

Thank you so much. That is so lovely of you to say, and I’m happy that I have your trust with this story. That said, I don’t know if it’s weakness if you’re not willing to run yourself through a miserable gauntlet of suffering the way Steve and Bucky are doing in this story. Would we call Rikki weak for drawing a boundary and stepping away from Bucky when his alcoholism was destroying their family? Some people used other words, but I’m not sure if weakness is the thing that might make someone walk away from a relationship like this. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you should keep slamming your face against the same wall until you’re black and blue. This is a highly dysfunctional couple, and these men have serious issues they are grappling with personally that make them ripe for this kind of relationship. Bucky is an open wound, crippled with shame, desperate to do anything to feel better. Steve has deep attachment injuries from his chronically ill mother and deadbeat dad, as well as major control issues, and he wants to latch on and fix and make right, and if he manages every variable just right, he really thinks he can do it. And then throw in a fuckton of PTSD and TBI and alcoholism and physical injuries on top of it. So no, I wouldn’t rush to judge yourself for not envisioning yourself gutting it out in this grim scenario. 

But I also think we can identify with at least one of these characters, and we can root for people who want to overcome the shit that life has thrown at them to be with the person they love. Because they really do love each other. There’s just so much noise that it’s hard to tease out the signal sometimes. 

Good call on Bucky being a notoriously unreliable narrator, and he’s someone who is likely to underreport his suffering. Aside from his war-related injuries and his psychological struggles, Bucky’s most symptomatic issues are his GI problems. He has both peptic and esophageal ulcers, which are slightly different creatures. Peptic (stomach) ulcers, in Bucky’s case, have been caused by H. pylori and exacerbated by smoking and drinking. The esophageal ulcer was most likely caused by an excess of stomach acid due to gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD) and, once again, exacerbated by drinking. Both of these have led to nausea, vomiting, lack of appetite, and weight loss. They have really emerged since Bucky got out of the military and pursued drinking with renewed vigor. Though he wouldn’t know it at the time because he doesn’t keep up with these things, his GERD is very possibly linked to acute, high dose exposure to the exceedingly toxic “dust” from the collapse of the World Trade Center towers. It’s one of the most widespread chronic health ailments of those exposed, aside from lower respiratory problems.

And now for some heavy-ass questions from licketysplittt — see CW above.

Yes, I am going to talk more about the context of Bucky’s abuse for sure, so I won’t go into the depths here. But I will say now that you are absolutely right that he has complex feelings for his abuser. I think it would have been easy to write him as just being unidimensionally angry or ashamed, but I know that’s not the experience of everyone who has experienced sexual abuse. This is especially the case if the person who commits the abuse it is a family member or caretaker or friend or trusted religious figure or someone who’s not just a “stranger in the bushes” type. I wanted to try to capture that experience in this fic. Bucky has also been multiply victimized by multiple people over the course of his life, which adds to this complexity and creates an internal narrative for him. Like what does it mean that this keeps happening to him? This is also not an uncommon experience for people who have been abused as children. And there’s also the added piece of this that Bucky’s gay, right? So he’s got this very, very young sexuality that’s on the verge of blooming (your Disney sexuality perhaps, sitting close, holding hands, etc) and this older male is making sexual advances toward him, and so he might ask if this person “saw” something in him aside from his social isolation that made him choose him. These are certainly questions he’s tortured himself over. I will get more into all of this, I promise. 

Winnie and George undoubtedly knew that their kid wasn’t a very popular one. But perhaps they always knew that he was a kid who wasn’t destined to have many friends because he’s “sensitive” or however they would characterize him (I’m sure they had different ways of viewing him). And I think it’s important to take into account the type of household that Bucky was in and the way he would shape his behavior. George was this total wildcard — “Best Dad in the World” most days but a screaming, violent tyrant at these odd, unpredictable times that were fucking terrifying for everyone in his path. This is a house where it’s best just to shut up and create as few problems as you can, because you don’t want to be the one that dad is gonna flip his shit at. And so everyone is walking on eggshells and Bucky is going to get very good at lying about how bad things are. And oh! Jamie finally has a friend, how wonderful. There will be more details in upcoming chapters about how this all transpires, but I think the dynamics at home made it possible for a lot of this to happen. And you’re right that these were not the most skillful parents, and their marriage was very strained and stressful for everyone. And these fictional assholes also frustrate me! The emotional content can be hard to write. It’s one reason these past few chapters have taken me soooooo painfully long. 

Great questions! You are all so thoughtful and kind. Sorry again for getting so terribly sidetracked. I am going to keep plugging away at the chapter and at comments and asks. I’m optimistic that I will have the next chapter for you within the next two weeks. I am pleased with this chapter and hope you’ll like it. Thank you for being so patient!!! 

[skyking91-archive]

contract || sky & mat

Discord thread featuring: Sky & @mathieuberinut

When: September 23, 2020

Where: Mat’s manager’s office

Mentions: @samuelburton

Description: Sky signs a contract agreeing to be Mat’s fake girlfriend to help keep him in the closet

Trigger Warnings: some internalize homophobia maybe????? 

Mathieu

Mat didn’t really want to do this but he knew his management was right. Ever since his name became known, he hadn’t once been connected with some girl who the tabloids could say he was dating. It was starting to look a little suspicious, especially after the photos that came out last week. He wasn’t on a date with that actor, they were just hanging around as friends but the internet went crazy. His management were clear that if he wanted to stay in the closet, something needed to be done about it. And if it could act as publicity for upcoming movie, even better. Chasity suggested a girl called Sky when he talked to her and, after giving the name to his people, they made quick work on setting up a meeting. He walked in five minutes late and sat down, trying to get an impression on what Sky was like.

Sky.

Since Sky was pretty much set on giving up prostitution and escorting so that she could get back together with Sam, she needed to find a job. The theater wasn't enough to keep her loft and lifestyle, and even if she was going to work at Jaycee's studio she knew that still wouldn't be enough. Sky knew she was superficial and cared a little bit too much about material things, but could you blame the girl? She grew up with nothing. And now that she had something, she didn't want to let that go. When Chas had told her about this job opportunity with her up and coming actor brother, she figured that it would be a perfect compromised for Sam. He didn't seem too thrilled about it, but she knew that he liked it a whole lot better than her escorting. And she was career orientated; he knew that she wasn't going to give up her work so easily. This dude though was already getting on her nerves because he was so late. Sky was never late. She always kept her appointments and she and found it fucking rude that he was even five minutes late. Sky looked at the skinny man who sat down in front of her, and sized him up. She was supposed to be dating him? Jesus. "Sky King." She said, holing out her hand across the table for the actor to shake.

Mathieu

Mat could already tell that this was going to be a long meeting. Not necesarily because they had a lot to say, but more because he didn't do very well with strangers and so this was bound to feel like an eternity. In hindsight, Mat really wished he asked his sister to introduce them before giving her number to his management and leaving them to take care of everything. After all, he was the one who was going to have to date her...sort of. He gave her a smile that he wasn't sure even reached his eyes and shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you." Not really, but he wasn't about to say that. He needed to at least try to make a good impression considering how much time they were going to have to spend together. "Mathieu Berinut but you can just call me Mat." He looked around in curiosity, then turned back to Sky. "Have they told you what would be expected of you already?"

Sky.

Sky had met a handful of famous people in her life; living in Kingsboro made that pretty easy. Some of them were down to earth, whereas others tended to be real pricks. This guy seemed somewhere in the middle, but only time could tell what he was really like. And Sky was sure that she would get to know this man very well. "Pleasure." She nodded. Sky was such a goof ball and knew how to have fun, but in settings like this she was very classy and professional. Chas knew that, which was probably one of the reasons she suggested Sky for this job. "Not much. Just that I'd be going to a lot fo appearances with you. And that I'd obviously have to keep my own relationship on the down-low. I've been someone's fake girlfriend before. A friend..." Eevee was still a sore topic for her and it looked like she didn't need to be her fake girlfriend anymore since she couldn't even remember her to begin with and seemed all buddy-buddy with her parents now. "So I'm pretty good at this. What else should I know?" She asked, raising her brow.

Mathieu

Mat felt pretty bad when she mentioned her own relationship. Chas hadn’t told him that Sky was seeing someone and he really didn’t want to be the cause of any relationship troubles but then he reminded himself that she agreed. His management made an offer and then it was up to Sky to decide whether it was something she was willing to do, he didn’t force her. “That’s pretty much it, yeah. Appearances, premieres...that sort of thing. And obviously some social media posts to show that we’re hanging out”, he explained. At her question, Mat couldn’t help tense up a little. Considering she was doing this, he knew that Sky needed to be told the whole truth but it still made him freeze. “Uh...you should probably know why I’m doing this in the first place. Apart from publicity there’s also the fact that I’m...bi. Obviously that’s not common knowledge though and I don’t want it to be. So you’ll also have to sign a non-disclosure agreement to make sure that doesn’t leave this room.”

Sky.

“Sound.” Sky wasn’t opposed to posting about Mat on social media. She’d rather post about her own boyfriend, but she recognized that this gig was going to be really good for her own career. She loves being at Bullskits, but she didn’t want to be on off Broadway her whole life. She furrowed her brows at his next words, grabbing on of her braids and twisting it around in her finger. Sky was bi too, but never once felt the need to hide who she was. Not in her adult life at least. She pressed her lips together, debating on saying what she really wanted to say and fearing she’d come off too judge mental. She leaned over the table slightly and cocked her head. “You’re paying me all this money because you don’t want to come out?” Of course Sky knew there were plenty of reasons people didn’t want to come out, and the poor man probably had some serious trauma with it. She sat back in her seat and took a deep breath. “But that’s fine. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll sign.” She told him flatly.

Mathieu

Mat narrowed his eyes, not appreciating being called out like this. It was easy to judge him for doing this rather than coming out but no one knew about what he went through. His sister told their parents that she was dating a girl and they lost it. They completely disowned her and wouldn’t listen to reason, even when she kept trying to tell them that she liked boys too. If that wasn’t traumatic enough, then there was also the little detail that he went for a career where his personal life stopped being private. He was seen in a few photos with another guy and people went crazy. Mat wasn’t ready to face the judgement associated with coming out, and he doubted he ever would. “Sure, I’m paying you all this money to help me look good in the public eye and get me some publicity for my next movie not to pass comments about what I choose to do with my own life.” He was going to have a long word with Chasity about the people she suggested for a fake girlfriend. “Good. I don’t think I need to tell you what would happen if you were to break it after signing.”

Sky.

Well that shut the actress up real fast. She still thought he was a fucking prick but it was his choice if he wanted to come out the closer or not. Sky was gorgeous, good in front of cameras and crowds, classy, fashionable, and always knew the right thing to say. She was actually perfect for this job and the zeros on the contract in front of her made this impossible to turn down for whatever reason. She finally let out one big deep breath and attempted not to roll her eyes at his pretentious comment. “Fine.” She agreed, nodding. “Where do I sign?” Holding her hand out for him to give her a pen.

Mathieu

Mat hoped that at least his sister was right in saying that Sky was the best to act as his fake girlfriend. So far, he was not very impressed with what he was seeing but it was more because of her attitude than because of her skill. It’s not like he had much of an opportunity to see her in action. He picked up the contract left to him by his management and found the last page, where Sky’s signature was required and he handed her both the contract and a pen. “Here you go. Is there anything I need to know about you before you sign?”

Sky.

Sky knew she was going to be good at this job. She was a natural at it and had been arm candy for men for years. She has to admit, the idea of being in the public eye was a little daunting. But Sky had dreams of her own; singing, acting and dancing on stage — she would most likely be a natural in front of the cameras and during interviews. This was going to be such an amazing opportunity when it came to her career, and all the money sheas being offered made it possible to afford the luxurious lifestyle she was living while working as a high end escort. This was a no brainer. “Nope. Let’s do this.” She said, picking up the pen and signing on the dotted line.

Mathieu

Mat knew that he should probably warn her of what being in the public eye meant. Any sort of private life went out of the window and pretending they were together meant that they couldn’t be seen dating anyone else. This wouldn’t be much of a problem for him but he wasn’t sure he could say the same about Sky. Going through it all would be endless though and Mat wanted to spare himself more judgement about his coming out or lack of it. Management could go through all the “rules” with her. He watched as she signed the contract then took the pen from her and did the same on the other side. “Well...I guess we’re dating now.”

[giganticactus]

9.20.19

The last three years have felt like an absolute eternity.

On this day, three years ago, my recovery began. Three years ago, I was a shell of a person barely functioning enough to brush my teeth more days of the week than not. I hated myself to the point that I couldn't bare living life as the person I was. There was nothing about my personality or my mind that I did not despise. I had zero goals or hope or dreams for the future. I couldn't see my future beyond only a few days ahead. For a long time, I didn't want to find it.

My personality was a dark ball of depression and loneliness and emptiness. In constant need of an escape. In desperate need for help. I considered myself, no longer human, for a large chunk of 2016. There was no personality or humanity in my body. I was truly nothing but a combination of debilitating mental illnesses. I was living off of nothing else but guilt and codepency on a person I was in a very toxic relationship with at the time.

On this day three years ago, I broke off that relationship. It was the fourth day in a row which I didn't have suicidal thoughts. I felt that I truly had a 1% chance of surviving myself without her. I decided that I had to take that chance while it was in front of me. I had to let go of the one person who I knew was holding me down.

For another two months, I did nothing but sit at home, focused on avoiding triggers and finding ways to cope with the triggers. I played video games at all hours of the day, I forced myself to limit the food I ate while making sure I did still eat, trying to eat food that wasn't pure junk. Drank water as often as I thought about it. Focused on the parts of me that I hated most and tried my best not to hate them.

I realized, in the beginning of my recovery, that I had to build myself back up into a human being again. I had to recreate my personality and my relationships and social skills. I had to create motivation to get anywhere in my physical life. And it dawned on me. If I have to build myself back up, why would I go back to the person who put me onto this position in the first place?

The qualities that I wanted most in the person I wanted to be were: motivated, and didn't immediately run away from anything bigger than a mild inconveinece. I wanted to face challenges head on, I wanted to want to overcome obstacles. I've always been such a lazy person by nature that I wanted nothing to do with anything that wasn't completely easy to me. As I slowly built this person over the coming months, I got a temporary job working at Walmart over the holidays.

That seasonal job at Walmart that I spent 40 hours a week at for six weeks, was the best thing to happen to me in my recovery. It was just challenging enough that I was able to thrive from the challenges. I got my first hint of customer service skills, I worked as part of a team, I made friends. I learned a lot of responsibility and I rode my bike everyday to get there. But the number one thing that job did for me, was give me a sense of purpose. People relied on me. I had a job to do and I didn't have the option of walking away from it. I had a purpose. I hadn't had that feeling my entire life. And I must say, I was pretty good at it. I learned things pretty fast and honestly the only negative quality I had at that job was that I lacked a sense of urgency. But it wasn't hard to work around, and it definitely improved in the weeks I worked there. Two of my biggest fears were handling difficult customers and answering phones. Both of which I had to endure, and nine times out of ten they turned out well. I always had other people to fall back on as a safety net if I messed up. I was only eighteen, and the youngest worker in the store. Everybody looked out for me when I needed it and gave me a little push when I needed it as well. That job gave me a completely different outlook on the working industry and who Walmart is as a company. Both, in very positive light.

After that job ended, I was unemployed for five months. In that time I went back to my previous habits after my recovery began, but I was also a little more diligent about looking for another job. I had a small lick of motivation to find another purpose, but had trouble finding work that was close enough to ride my bike to, and would hire me with only six weeks of work experience.

I was hanging out with a friend of mine that April. He brought along a friend of his that we went to high school with. This friend was a shiftlead at my favorite place to eat. He asked me about what I was doing at the time, and when I told him I wasn't in school and didn't have a job, he told me that his work was desperate for hires. I was unsure about it, mostly because the store was a two and a half mile trip from my house, and the idea of riding my bike that far everyday sounded just a little bit like a real life horror movie. I told him I would think about it and he gave me his phone number for when I made my decision. A week later, he set up an interview with his manager for me and told me when to come in. I rode my back at two o'clock in the afternoon in early may to this interview where I was hired on the spot.

2017 was a year of recovery. I continued to build myself up and find habits that made me happy and healthy as I could be. I was truly the happiest I've ever been, in 2017. My depression quickly withered to a pebble because of this job and the friends I made. Riding my bike was great exercise, and I worked at a salad restaurant and was eating good healthy food. I was honestly of top of the fucking world.

In March of 2018, I met a boy. He was filling in from another store while we were short staffed. He was big and he was goofy and about as friendly as a stranger can get. Something about him drew me toward him. I knew from the day we met, that he was someone special. After a few days of chatting and working together, we and two other worker friends of mine hung out after work one day. He was the last one I brought home that night, and when he learned in to kiss me, I though "fuck it", and it was the best "what's the worst that could happen" decision I've made in my entire life.

We dated for one year and two weeks before breaking things off for complicated reasons. It wasn't a good breakup (if those exist), but it definitely wasn't a bad one. After we got out bearings and thoughts and feelings sorted, a week later we met up for the first time again to talk. Things weren't awkward, but it was sad. After that, we decided to remain friends for fear of losing eachother. There was a short period over the summer that we lost touch, while I was on my bender, but a month later we got to talking and hanging out again. We are in a very good place right now and see eachother often, once or twice a week. He is my best friend. And while the idea of getting back together has been kind of the elephant in the room for the last few weeks, for right now I'm enjoying the time I can spend with him.

My health and happiness fluctuate a lot. I currently just got out of a deep depression pit myself, due to denial of an environmental stressor I've chosen to ignore for nearly a year.

What truly matters, is doing my best. Finding what works and what doesn't. Keeping myself as far away as possible from where I was three years ago. The number one thing, is learning to love who I am. Changing the negative qualities that I can, and accepting the ones that I can't. Taking actions to keep myself as healthy and happy as possible while maintaining relationships and a shitty career.

I'm endlessly grateful for where I am today. I'm endlessly grateful for the journey I had to take to get here, and for the opportunities and decisions I will have in the future.

Right now, I'm finding reasons to be happy. Holding onto the people around me, finding balance between things I have and want and need, and finding goals and hope for the future. I am doing really good right now, recovering from my bender. I realized this time last year, that I will be in recovery for the rest of my life. And I know that its okay. Recovery means coming up from the down. The journey ahead looking better than the path left behind. I'm endlessly grateful.

Overall, I'm fairly happy. I have family whom I love and love me. I don't have many friends but the few close friends I have are extremely important to me. The situation at work is going better than it has been, and I'm currently looking for a second job. I've moved out of my dads house and hope to move out on my own pretty soon. Things look good right now. I have hope. I have things to look forward to, I have a better hold of saving money, and have a million things I want to save for. For instance, buying a new car and taking trips to Colorado to hold me over until I can eventually move there.

Recovery is a process I'm well familiar with. Rock bottom and I are old friends that I plan to never reunite with.

One last note I want to leave, is a message to the person I left on September 20th, 2016.

I see you. I see you as a human being. I see you as a human being with struggles. When I think about who you were three years ago, I see a human being.

I remember everything. The words said, the feelings felt, the anger and love and hatred shared. The memories and experiences, I remember it all.

I know now, especially after a similar friendship I had this past summer, what our relationship looked like. What it really was. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I saw a certain comment on social media that hit me like a train. And I had a whole new perspective to the situation.

I've always known what you did to me. How your words and your actions affected me. I know how codependent I became. How much I dreaded the idea of living life without you. How much I hated you some days and loved you on others. How desperate I was for your attention and the empty feeling I had whenever you would push me away. How grateful I was for the times you were there.

I've realized lately, of the impact I had on you. While I've never gotten your direct take on everything, I do now know some things. I know that I put you into a harmful situation. I trapped you in a spot that any action you took could become dangerous. At a young age, another person depended on you in a way that no person should. I realize now, the pressure I put on you. The damage I had to have caused at the time.

I don't know your true intentions of the time. I don't know what you thought or how you felt. I know that you hid a lot from me. I know now that it truly was for the better of both of us. I expected far more from you than I never should have asked. I see it now. I see the intensity of the impact it must have had.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I did. I'm sorry for everything I said. I'm sorry for putting you in that situation that I depended on you so instensely. I'm sorry for the pressure. I'm sorry for the despair and desperation. I never should have done that to you. I'm truly, insanely sorry. I don't blame you for a single thing. I forgive you for any hardships caused. I'm sorry for any hardships I had caused you and your family. You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry.

[fightsbck]

DIFFERENCE OF GENDRY’S CHARACTERISATION IN SEASON 8 EPISODE 2 

content:    you heard it - i should be sleeping but i didn’t.   i watched the leak episode.   i’m not fully conscious enough to make a full review of it,   but i’ve focused my entire thoughts about gendry because i’ve been sort of hung up regarding him since there was an image spoiler a few hours beforehand.   so here are some lines i’ll be drawing and refuse to take as part of my writing of him.

trigger warning:   got spoilers,   rape,  sexual assaults.

things i'm willing to incorporate into my writing:

001               gendry has been busy making the weapons he should’ve been making instead.    i like that he doesn’t necessarily prioritise arya’s,   even if it was specially requested from her;    it means he knows the exact reason why he was being brought to north   -    that was to supply the fighting men in winterfell with weapons just in time for the invasion.    he had a job to do when he arrived,   and he stuck to it.    that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do arya’s nor made sure he’d made it well for her;   just that he’d saved it up for later.

002               it’s hot in the forge,   my dudes,   so the reason gendry was wearing a thin-layered of tunic wasn’t because he was trying to impress arya.   it’s just naturally hot when you’re close to the fire most of the time,   which he was,   and i’ve had had a thought-out headcanon before that gendry naturally runs warm,   body-temperature wise.   so yes,   i accept this as canon,   but not out of any intention to allow nor encourage any sexual behaviour.

003                gendry is strong.   he took a hammer from arya and struck it down with one swing against the bark and walk away like it’s fucking nothing.    that’s canon and i fucking like it.

004                gendry does give arya her weapon personally.    and he is impressed that she’s done well in herself as an armed woman considering he’d known her as a girl who was still so reckless while they’re-on-the-lam,    but rather than complete awe,   i think,   like the show has been portraying,    i might add a tinge mix of confusion and worry.    gendry will always be plagued by the guilt of leaving her,    and probably never quite stop blaming himself for the things that she must’ve endured alone afterwards.    and he knew that,  with such precise control of her skills,   she didn’t develop it easily.    so yes,   he worries.   and not just contemplative. 

things i’m NOT willing, nor ever, going to incorporate into my writing:

001               gendry does visit arya later to deliver the weapon she’s asked,   but he won’t be as freely to have told her about his ancestry nor her experience with the red woman.   (  still,  i like how joe said,  “she wanted my blood. for some spell.”  so i’m taking that as canon if he should ever explain it.  )  this is because i see   gendry as a very private person.   all his life,   up until arya,  was him defending and protecting himself:   that means he carries his anger and worry and concern all on his own without having to think that relying on people could be an option.   

and while arya changed that particular point of view,   when he began to trust her and they’ve developed that equal camaraderie and partnership while they’re on the run,    this is not the same arya that he knew.   gendry will tell bits and pieces,   yes,   i won’t deny,   but see:   how they’ve made arya as being the one to ask him all the questions.   gendry doesn’t trust this behaviour.   and he hadn’t before   (   see:  his first meeting with ned stark when ned asked him questions,  and he seems closed off.   ),   i don’t understand why he should be suddenly okay with it now.

of course,   one may argue it’s because they were friends before,   good friends even.   and i agree.   gendry has always held a certain torch for arya.   but again:   this isn’t the same arya that he knew.    and i know the show’s portraying him as hideously dumber than he is,   but if gendry can detect arya was a girl when they were kids — before they were close,   mind you — i think he would’ve had suspicion that arya isn’t the same.    gendry would want an equal footing in this relationship once more,  i would believe;   because it’s what they had before,   and what he wants to continue in the future.

this means,   he gets to ask his own questions and have them be answered before he could re-trust arya again.    if arya deflects,   so will he.

002              gendry does not engage in a sexual relationship with arya.   okay,   i feel like i shouldn’t have to explain this,   but i will:   so gendry was raped.    he was sexually assaulted,   and he is traumatised by it.   i know this doesn’t mean that gendry shouldn’t allow himself to indulge with further sexual relationships if he means it,    but  ...   this wasn’t meaningful.   again,   referring to the above reasoning mostly that,   

reason one.    gendry doesn’t know this arya.   yes,  they’ve shared a large part of their history with one another,   gendry and arya even grew together for a few years on the road,   but gendry didn’t return the same ( see: how he’s become more of an active character than passive,  which he was before when he was a boy,  regarding his place in the social hierarchy ),  so why should arya does?

reason two.    and again,   i will repeat:   gendry is a very private person;   reclusive,   almost.   wary and guarded easily with people he doesn’t know.    he’s had good reasons to be like that,   too,   considering his background and his experiences at being tossed aside from one guardian to a captor etc.   in the books,   he has refused to engage with women who are flirting with him.   i chalk it up to the fact that gendry just has an abundant sense of distrust.

and referring back to the first reason,   gendry has yet to trust this arya.    of course,   there was that basis of their past that didn’t make him completely wary of her,   but...   at the same time,    why should he?   so far,   arya has given him no reason to.  she wasn’t like the girl he used to know,   and up until then,  she has given exactly zero information on where she’d been or how she’s changed.    arya is now just a lady who wore the face of a girl he knew,  and sometimes smiled at the jokes that they’ve shared.   but she’s not the same,   and she doesn’t seem willing to open up to him about it.

so yes,   when there’s lack of trust,   there would’ve been lack of motivation for him to pursue or agree to arya’s offer.

reason three.   gendry is and always will be wary of his status.   it doesn’t matter whose son he was:   he is a mere smith,   and he is uneducated,   and he is a lowborn.    he knows this.    this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.   it’s just who he is,   and gendry’s long accepted this.   with that said,   no matter how much he jokes or teases arya about it,    arya is a highborn.    gendry just wouldn’t fuck with that,   okay?   a kiss,   or a long hug,   if you want to show that he’s attracted;    but sex in a fairly public place where,    you know,   he could’ve gotten killed if anybody just passed by and saw,   is not going to go.   gendry’s been taught for about most of his life of his place in the hierarchy system,   those sort of teaching just doesn’t fly out of the window one night. 

although of course,   you may argue on two basis (1)  that lust can make people do stupid shit,   and (2) lust to add with “the end of the world” trope makes them even stupider.   i agree.   however,   this is arya.    as much as gendry doesn’t know this new version of her nor trust her,   as per reason one and two,   that doesn’t mean he’s just going to defile her like that.   not only was he compromising his place as a smith brought by the kindness of jon, who was king then,   but he’s also risking her reputation as a lady.   she may not care,   fine,   but he does.   he always have,   and he always will.

reason four.    back to the meaningful thing,   yeah.   just.    gendry is already someone who needs absolute trust for him to finally be comfortable enough with someone for him to freely complaint,    let alone sexually be involved with,    but past his rape and sexual assault makes it worse.    also the way arya treated him?    all cold and harsh and quite mechanical  ( sorry tv!show arya,  but it’s true  )   and her quickly assuming the dominant / top position without speaking with him?   it’s not going to work.   gendry’ll faster gets a panic attack and run the hell away to make sure he’s not bounded to the wall than to indulge her,   no matter who she is or who she’s been to him.

reason five.    probably a summarisation of all the reasons above,   but he’s demisexual as fuck.   he cares for arya,   yes,   but he doesn’t know her enough,   in my writing,   post-reunion to trust his body in her hand.

003              gendry had not slept with other women.   after melissandre,   he becomes even more reclusive and private in king’s landing.    i wanna add more on the fact that seeing women and having meaningless sex with them is also coming from the fact that he watched his mom getting groped almost daily when she was working (when he was young) was what rooted this dislike towards men just coming blindly after girls,  but that’s another headcanon for another time.  regardless,  gendry is — technically — a virgin.

004              gendry is not this dumb.   i swear to god.   he is a simple boy,  yes,  and a lot of time in his narration he refers to himself as “stupid”,   but he’s not.   gendry is a complex,   though maybe not as complicated or as many layered as others,   character who is equally thoughtful and logical and smart in his own way.   a friendly reminder that,   a lot of times,  in the books,   arya has acknowledged several times that gendry was correct and that she was wrong.   he’s not just some dumb sidekick who’s got all the muscles.   the tv show should stop writing him as so,   and i won’t be writing him like that here.

tl;dr                gendry didn’t have sex with arya,  thanks.    also HUGE SHOUT OUT to @xneedlepoint and @strklings for listening to me ramble about it before!!!!! yOU GUYS ARE THE MVP AND ILY!!!!!!!

DON’T REBLOG THIS !!!

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Hey so I vented on here more than I usually do, so I felt like I should post a follow-up reassuring anyone who saw my earlier posts about Those Horrible Emails (they really were horrible) that I’m currently home for break and doing OK. Long personal post under the cut. 

That One Person has started going to counseling, supposedly they were considering it already and me flipping out at them over what they apparently thought was a not that bad email (how...) encouraged them to finally go. The last session helped them realize that they’re really, really, really good at insulting people... without realizing it. (again, HOW) which they have apparently gone their whole, very adult life without realizing, despite the fact that they constantly drive people away from them with their complete lack (like it’s not even a zero it’s a negative number) of social skills (AGAIN? HOW??). But hey they might be a lot of things (and a person who has said a lot of extremely hurtful things to me habitually in the past is one of them!) but they’re not self-deceiving and they were real shook about it and supposedly want to change. 

Like, as they told it to me, this is how a conversation with their counselor went: 

Counselor: So how would you use this word?  Family Member: Oh, well, [example of something they’d say] Counselor: Noooo! That’s insulting and antagonizing!  Family Member: Whut? Really?? Oh No

Break so far has been very nice. I don’t know how much they’ve really changed, at this point; their attitude so far is probably at least partly just trying to smooth things over and not have me be mad at them anymore, idk. But I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt because, as annoying as it is to admit, they are actually trying. 

Seriously how the fuck do you go so many years telling someone that you can’t stand them and nothing they do is good enough in everything but those words, repeatedly get confused by that person reacting to what any normal person would interpret as the meaning of their words, and still never think ‘huh there appears to be a serious problem with communication here maybe I should try to figure out what’s going wrong before I seriously hurt this person I actually care about’  how can you NEVER think that over YEARS of interactions, how dumb could you POSSIBLY be Because I truly do believe they actually care, they’re just THE WORLD’S WORST at any sort of human interaction whatsoever and I still kind of feel like they hate me, despite evidence to the contrary. Because there’s also a lot of evidence for them hating me. Supposedly it was all an accident but goddamn that’s a long accident. 

Anyway. I obviously haven’t healed overnight. But Family Member of the Horrible Emails has actually responded to my concerns and started getting counseling, which is a good indication that maybe for once in my life they are actually going to gain some self-awareness and make an attempt at being a more tolerable person. 

And break so far has been... good. I’ve gotten a bit more self-aware since I was last here too. And Family Member as I mentioned before has been very chill and positive and friendly, as they can be sometimes, pity it’s not more often. 

Anyway. I don’t expect we won’t have more trouble, I doubt that’s realistic. I’m still very hurt over the YEARS of shit I put up with from this person. But they are making an effort to change, and I know they do care (surprisingly!). And it’s a season of peace and forgiveness and gratitude, and holding a grudge isn’t Christian, so I’ve forgiven them. I’m honestly not sure what that means. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything. I still don’t trust them entirely, but I trust them a little bit. And I hope they can get better. And I don’t want to put my energy into hating them, that won’t make anything better. And deep down I do care about them. 

I love this person, and there’s a lot of good in them, and they try so hard. And they do care about me. I just can’t believe they got so far in life without ever addressing any of the many things wrong with them. I can’t believe they legitimately never realized, despite being told, repeatedly, that they were hurting those around them, on a regular basis. But I guess it is hard to see your own flaws. And maybe it’s finally gotten through to them. I hope. 

This is a mess and I kind of wish I hadn’t brought it up on this fairly public blog, but maybe it’ll help someone, idk. Maybe you can help me. Offer guidance if you will. If you’re reading this, thank you for listening, and I hope you have a good day with minimum family drama and maximum forgiveness. 

[loadingoliver]

compulsive shopping

something I never thought I would be dealing with. for one, I was never a big spender. since being very little, I hated the thought of people having to spend money on me and I was very good at saving it. yet I've never bought as much as I have the past year and I don't remembered why I bought most of the things or even what they were. which means I've never owned as many unnecessary things before. during that year I also spent all of my savings including some money I’ve had put away for years and rarely touched before because I never had big needs that would require extra money. whenever I reached for those savings this year it felt like an emergency, I planned on putting it back there after my next paycheck, but I never did - some new purchase would always seem more urgent. “I was living from paycheck to paycheck. I was living FOR the paycheck”*(The Minimalism documentary). pretty early on I found myself in a financial crisis and had a lot less money to spend, unfortunately it wasn't about how much I would spend, but the way I would spend it.

since I can recall I’ve always hated spending money going out, going to movies, eating with friends, buying food for myself - it seemed like such a waste of money - on something that lasted a moment instead of something material that I could have forever and that would bring me joy and serve purpose. or better yet, multiple purposes, right? too bad I wouldn’t use anything for long. I own some clothes that I wore literally once or twice. most things I would get were horrible quality and poor source which I was aware of. a lot of clothes didn't fit me, therefore didn't serve purpose, but instead would make me feel frustrated with what I looked like. and the joy, momentary excitement, dopamine kick - that was what would initially drive my constant need to buy new things, but it would last less and less time. the rush I would get from checking out “inspirations”, looking up things, reading product reviews, planning purchases, placing orders, waiting for deliveries and then using those items for the first few times- gradually it shrunk to feeling excited until the end of each transaction. I haven't even worn something, I didn't even get it in the mail, I would already look for something else, I was already hung up on something new. I had never-ending lists in my head of stuff I wanted to get next, that I needed next. I had a few private Pinterest boards specifically for that, that's what all my Instagram likes went to. and I would obsess over them. that’s what I would spend all of my free time on. my energy, thoughts, motivation to get up, to work, to survive through bad days. to live, I guess. they were my treats for doing well, my consolation prizes and my what the hell’s. I didn't plan on buying 10 things at once, but just this one and, of course, these two. while still in my head, most things felt essential, unlike previous ones- I was crazy getting that previous item, but this? I clearly need this. if I look better, I’ll feel better.  my shopping habits were gradually becoming more impulsive and compulsive. I was no longer thinking through or questioning what I needed, practicality was not high on my list. I would almost never try on stuff, I would base my decisions on the fact that I liked the way something looked on someone I saw. usually on Pinterest or Instagram- so people of completely different proportions, physical features, lifestyles, preferences and identities - not me. it usually looked good with other articles of clothing that I didn't own, so when shoes arrived in the mail and I wasn’t so sure about them, I would sometimes convince myself that I also needed different trousers, t-shirts, different colours or materials to go with them, that would solve it. when I had less money, I would buy more, but cheaper items. it made so much more sense to buy multiple things for less. and if it’s cheap, why think twice?what's the harm? I actually knew enough about the harms of fast fashion industry, but I chose to ignore them. I thought I couldn’t afford to be environmentally conscious, to make ethical choices, to consider people behind products, to pick more intentionally. I couldn’t afford to buy as many quality items, so I chose quantity over quality. and it’s hard to appreciate quality, when you get bored and dissatisfied with everything so quickly. but each time it felt like that one item was the one that would perfectly fill in the painful space in my life, each product seemed ridiculously important for a short while, it somehow was supposed to be the start of a new life- a toothbrush that, at least in the pictures, matches my bathroom tiles and other beautiful, pure, and organic-looking sink accessories that I was getting next; or a running windbreaker that I can fold into the size of my fist and that might not go with any of my clothes, but I could always have it with me and it would help me save space in my giant everyday backpack full of other essentials. it felt like every little thing would weirdly define me for a second. that when I pick a product, I decide what kind of a person I am. but who I was and what I liked was becoming very blurry.

style and clothing felt like such an easy way or opportunity to redefine or redesign myself. it gave me a sense of identity, it was a symbol of a different better life. and when I was out of ideas for myself and my life, any image that gave me a sense of what I lacked i.e. self-confidence, self-respect, ease, balance or even better social skills or ability to fit in among certain people sounded great. I reached a point where there were too many different voices saying what would make me feel better and I would get very confused. not even with what I needed or wanted, but as to what I liked, what was aesthetically pleasing. which btw, while not the most important in life, comes in pretty fucking handy when you work as a product designer and a craftsman. that lead me to my worse state. I could change my mind about what I wanted to look like, which subconsciously translated into whom I wanted to be, in five minutes while randomly scrolling through a board of pictures on my Pinterest or checking out my Instagram feed. it didn’t come out of nowhere, I was never able to stick to the same clothes, I went through so many stages, I tried out more haircuts within the last five years than most people have in their lifetime. I actually would feel sorry for people who had the same hairstyle their whole life and wore the same type of clothes for years- how boring are you and how unadventurous is your life? I didn’t see the integrity some of those people have, the lack of need to fix what already works, the peace, the contentment, the blissful zero fucks to give about something this empty and unimportant. I thought they lacked sensitivity, awareness and were afraid to experiment or take a risk, while it seemed natural for me to play around, constantly research, look for something. I even convinced myself that I had to be that way to keep an open mind and my creativity levels high. but when it got out of control and started changing so fast I couldn't keep up with it, I realised how much my low-self esteem was being used by the industry convincing me to want new things to fix me and immediately hate the old ones. definitely wasn’t news to me as a phenomenon, but took me a while to realise that it affected me, and how much. as those things tend to, it aligned with various work stuff, break ups, prolonged health problems, family conflicts, other everyday stuff and social media apps, including Instagram and Pinterest, have become my pacifiers, a way to push away all sorts of thoughts, issues, anxiety, to look away, to avoid, to calm down, to entertain myself, to distract me and keep me busy. once I realised just that, they stopped working that well. I suddenly felt like notifications, badges, sponsored posts, fake smiles, free trials, special discount codes, pictures carefully selected for me were attacking me more and more, but none of them no longer made much sense. it all quickly turned into an uninteresting, disturbing, worthless noise and waste of my time that I was able to, surprisingly easily, let go off. sadly, that didn't make my shopping urges and impulses go away. in fact, I still have to fight them pretty much every day and it will take a while. but I really want to work on this. work on this by not letting things be more than things are and define me or change the way I feel about myself. even though I don’t feel great about myself right now. I want to end this post on a positive note because I’m really feeling incomparably better most days now, but the truth is I obviously just started uncovering some stuff and it’s not pretty, so it might take more than giving up retail therapy.

if you can relate, feel more than free to message me, bother me, ask me questions, but beware I might recommend you an endless list of podcasts, essays and videos that helped me and that my friends can’t take any more. if you can’t relate, you lucky fuck, hope you found this interesting. and if you did, the interesting part actually is the shit that happens next, now that I’m taking steps to live a simpler, slower live, without all that excess bullshit, so stay tuned.