#and the US will be able to pretend that they're superior and they are a DEMOCRACY and they know better etc

[ragnarssons]

If this is true. IF THIS IS TRUE First off, proof that US is still meddling with affairs in the Middle East when they fucking shouldn't. US and Israel allying themselves to erase Palestine Israel and the US, erasing the last shred of freedom the palestinians could have, you know, when at least they could still elect their own government, be it Hamas or anyone else for that matter. WHAT THE ACTUAL-

[tealvenetianmask]

Hell's royalty has a culture that enables Stella's abusive behavior.

Point 1: Keeping up appearances is valued above all else. And I specifically mean the appearance of things being the way they're supposed to be. Conformity basically.

Conformity in this culture seems to include a kind of stoic dignity ("you know excitement is unbecoming of a goetia"), an air of superiority ("don't bow to that one- he bows to us!"), and, of course, some good old fashioned toxic masculinity ("cease this bitch crying").

Individuals at the very top are not immune. Even though he gets past it, Asmodeus seems to spend a lot of time and effort on keeping his relationship with Fizz quiet in order to keep up the appearance of fulfilling his "lust" role.

Point 2: The members of the aristocracy who don't conform are seen as the problem, not the members who are being cruel.

Speaking of Ozzie, there's a chance he'll face real consequences for getting out of line . . . Mammon seems pretty confident about getting revenge. Also, if Ozzie had decided that his reputation was important enough to avoid stepping in to help his partner, well . . . I'm just saying. Cultures of conformity create bystanders who stand by and let abuse happen. So it's good that this guy has the courage (and a good heap of privilege and power) to enable him to step out. Yes, I realize that the crowd at Mammon's celebrated Ozzie and Fizz, but the crowd was distinctly NOT aristocratic.

Now look at Stella's party- this woman is not subtle about being cruel to her husband.

She calls the party a "Not Divorced" party. She openly talks negatively about Stolas in a blatant attempt to humiliate him. She's not trying to hide that she hates the man.

Because he's . . . an oddball. Gentle, not as polished as others in his social sphere, awkward and mostly friendless, probably autistic. And importantly, I think, not traditionally masculine.

So Stella has no need to hide that she treats him poorly. She's proud of it. And her social circle seems to support her in it, or at least, they don't push back. Because based on the aristocracy's unspoken (or if we look at Paimon, very much spoken) value system, Stolas's failure to fulfill all of his expected roles gracefully is worse than Stella's cruelty.

Point 3: Stolas's parenting, while much better than his own father's, still reflects this value system in some ways, and that's . . . complicated.

In some ways, Octavia is doing great. She has her own interests (music! gothy fashion!) that don't seem to be based on any role prescribed to her by others. She has a genuine bond with her dad that's based on care and not on molding her into some ideal princess.

But Stolas still puts on an facade in front of Via. We know that he pretended things were fine when they distinctly weren't for most of her childhood. We could argue endlessly about whether Stolas was right (as Georgia Dow explained in her video) or wrong to stop himself from explaining the situation with Stella to Via in Loo Loo Land, but honestly, the man could let his nearly grown up daughter know that abuse was happening without all out trauma dumping. It would enable her to make more informed decisions, and I think she would want to be able to do that.

Instead, Stolas keeps it to himself. Because he feels like Via SHOULD have this picture perfect childhood. Look at the pictures that are up in his palace. Look at his attempt to gloss over the fighting in the household by taking Via to an idealized childhood destination.

A part of him still thinks that good parenting is keeping up appearances, and that the ugly things are best kept hidden. Look at how hard he still tries to avoid crying in front of people. The values he was taught as a child are part of him.

And while it's not his fault (it's Stella's fault, obviously- these are HER actions), his inability to be open allows Stella and Andrealphus to scheme and (we'll see . . .) probably manipulate Via because of her lack of knowledge.

We're meant to see the moments where Stolas breaks expectations and behaves raw and even a little unhinged as triumphant. Sleeping with Blitz. That is the sound of a fucking divorce. Actually going through with the fucking divorce. Insisting on it. Appearances be damned.

And yeah, more of that please. Because if the people around Stella stop caring about aristocratic social trappings, all she'll have going for her is her shitty personality.

Thanks @akirathedramaqueen for inspiring this post with a conversation.

[angyo]

I unironically love csm 167. Not for horny, but because it's so fucked up on so many layers and if it follows up on even 1 of those layers of fuckery it's gonna be explosive.

Denji:

He's already been sexually assaulted so many times. Every time he has a dream it gets monkey's pawed into fucking him up worse. He doesn't know what he wants. Deep down he just wants to be loved and be able to trust that if he puts his soul into the hands of another person it won't get crushed. But his love for aki and power was used to break him. His love for reze and makima betrayed. His love for nayuta and the dogs used to goad him into violence. Everyone he opens his heart to either dies or uses him, so all he has left is this hope that sex gives him the love he so deeply needs without the commitment that makes it dangerous. He thinks getting his rocks off might give him the same love he needs without the possibility of having it stolen from him. An orgasm is an orgasm, even if the other person immediately betrays you you still got "love" in a far more transactional and solid sense.

But that's not how it works. Post-orgasm is a very vulnerable time, especially if it's from a high tension surprise hand job (rape) in a backalley. It's his last dream that hasn't been ruined yet and it happened after a castration attempt and will likely end with Asa looking at him like a disgusting monster and vomiting on the ground.

Yoru:

Of course the war devil can't process love. She and Asa share a body and swap a lot of emotions but they're still different people and when something they now feel strongly goes so directly against all of their lives experience they'll react in unpredictable and possibly dangerous ways, ESPECIALLY war. Yoru got the memory of the first kiss meaning asa probably got it too. Asa's not stable, she's so desperately lonely this revelation that denji never stood her up must've felt so relieving. But yoru was in charge when asa got this flood of emotion. War isn't about love or compromise, it's about stealing from the weak and kind, asserting absolute authority, and a lot of rape and pillaging. Of course when faced with such a human and kind emotion as love war doesn't care about anything but satiating the most immediately available impulse in a way that asserts her "superiority" and leaving before she'd have to actually confront the emotional turmoil she caused.

Asa:

Oh she's fucked. Just like denji she is desperately lonely and always has love ripped away from her in the cruelest ways. But unlike him, she just pretends she doesn't need it and tries to feel superior so she doesn't have to feel the real depth of her loneliness. Yet she can't help but love anyway, and every time she falls into the trap of caring it dissolves all of her defenses and when it's betrayed it breaks her core. She is sex-repulsed, which is understandable for a teenager and possibly a sign of asexuality but thematically can be tied to her fear of opening her heart to damage. There's a difference between finding it disgusting on a reasonable level and being so viscerally disgusted by the thought it can drag you into hell. Sex is vulnerable. Your expose a lot of really sensitive organs to each other and stimulate hormones that make you open yourself up and expose yourself to risks like stds. When it feels like all her vulnerabilities get hammered against her of course she'd be scared of such a vulnerable act.

And now she's got cum on the only hand she has left, denji's spit in her mouth, and the lingering feeling of his dick on her, again, ONLY REMAINING HAND. And he's going to need aftercare, and really substantial care because she just sexually assaulted him and he doesn't know she's 2 different people. He's either gonna be so immediately depressed by the anticlimax of his first time he starts isolating or so desperate for this sex to be the time it finally means love he clings to her but it's gonna be terrifying to her because yoru took her subconscious vulnerability and externalized it to hurt the guy she just realized might be the only person to actually give a shit right now. She loves him and as soon as she lets that emotion wash over her it gets used to melt him into a puddle of desperation and vulnerability right in her arm that is so far beyond anything she can emotionally handle it could make him hate her forever. The only one who ever gave a shit and in the span of a couple minutes her body has been used to deconstruct him into a million little pieces she couldn't possibly put back together.

Not to mention the fact that in assaulting denji yoru also sexually assaulted Asa but denji doesn't know that. They both need immediate calming that isn't going to happen.

And she can't run away from yoru. The girl who assaulted her, exploited every vulnerability she has, and ruined her only chance is in her head. Even if denji realizes his worth and runs away asa is still stuck. Her assaulter is in her head, and the only hand she has left is covered in jizz.

[mayisgoingnuts]

Lee!Lucifer X Ler!Reader Scenario

Warnings: Some swearing but that's all, only did it for comfort.

Author's note: Lucifer. Brainrot. That's everything I have to say for now 😞🙏💞

————————————————————————

"Be careful with those, they don't get pretty all by themselves, y'know?" Lucifer says with a calm smile, which quickly shifts to a more "cocky" smirk. "Well, maybe they do."

You chuckle at his stupid comment, slowly returning your eyes to your main goal: his wings. A pair of wings was already amazing for you, but now three? No way you would lose the chance to check on them. See them, admire them, touch them...

You slowly caress one of them, taking a good look and with your eyes almost shining in amusement. "They're so soft..."

"Right?"

But as you keep stroking his wings and exploring each inch, you can hear a light snicker coming from him. He cover his mouth and looks away, not wanting to interrupt you.

"Huh? What happened?"

"N-Nothing, nothing. Just be extra careful there, alright?" Lucifer answers, looking at what people normally call a 'wingpit'.

"Ah... does it hurt? Sorry if I-"

"No no you didn't hurt me, it's just... ehhh... y'know..." He tries his best to explain without actually turning it even more embarassing, making a few hand movements aswell. "...sensitive?"

It took you a few seconds to understand, but once you did, your confused expression changed almost instantely.

"Oh, alright. I'll be gentle." But as you spoke, your fingers traced around that same spot once again. "See?"

Lucifer jumped a little on his bed.

"Okay, now this one was on purpose!"

"No idea what you're talking about."

The rythm of your fingers did not changed, basically dancing on Lucifer's wings. Everything he was able to do was cover his eyes with a single hand, using the other to grab the sheets tightly.

"Goddahahammit!"

"Wow, your feathers are so nice to touch... I could stay here all day." You say, wearing the happiest smirk you could have right now.

His superior wing flapped lightly as you kept tickling it, only making it worse for Lucifer himself as you now barely needed to move your hand.

"You better not hit me with those."

"It's really hahard not tohoho!"

"...was that a complain or a threat?"

"Bohoth- AH!"

You knew he wouldn't help himself, this man just loved giving you motives to keep going. As a consequence of his "rebel" answer, you let go of his wings, going straight to his ribs.

"H-HEHEHEY!"

"I just felt offended! I'm complimenting you, and you're threatening me to attack me with your wings? Tsk, tsk... not nice."

"COME OHOHON!"

Due his constant squirming, you decided to put a little pressure, pushing him down to the bed to make it easier for the both of you. His wings were so fun to watch too, it was almost like he was about to open flight.

"Just don't fly outta here." You joked.

His giggles and laughter were a mix now, creating this goofy yet adorable (in your opinion atleast) laugh of his. Lucifer kicked strongly in the air, trying to avoid using that huge strength of his on you and end up pushing you away; or worse, throw you away.

The demon's ribs began to have a bit more of mercy as you moved your fingers off of them, but only so you could reach his armpits. They moved very very slowly, tickling all the way 'til there.

"W-Wait! Wait! I- I knohohow what you're doing, dohohon't you dare!"

"Nothing is stopping me to do so..."

"Because I cahahan't! Hehehehe!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his poor attempt to make it look like he's not letting you do that. "Will it make you happier if I pretend that I believe you?"

"Yehehes! Wait, nohoho!" Your teases were making him way too nervous to think coherently, much less speak. "Fuhuhuck, I don't knohohow!"

"If you say so." Just a few more inches before it hits a death spot... "I won't stop, because I'm evil and I love seeing you "suffer" with your oh, so "hated" tickles!"

"G-Gah- No- Nahahah-"

"And you know what would make me even more evil?"

"I don't wanna know! I dohon't wanna know!!"

It felt just like a button. You pressed his armpits, and Lucifer let out a cackle as soon as you did so.

He tried to roll from one side to another, and as he tried to protect his own weak points, it just made your thumbs get stuck there. All you needed to do was wiggle them, tickling them whenever you feel like it.

"SHIHIHIT! SHIT! SHIHIHIT! I CAN'T TAHAHAKE IT!"

"Just raise your arms, like that I can get my hands back!"

"THEN STOHOP MOVING YOUR FIHIHIHINGERS!"

You went silent, looking away with a bratty smile. "Now you're asking for too much."

"OH HOW I HAHATE YOHOHOU!"

It would be just a matter of time until you stopped and finally let him rest, but for that, Lucifer needed to grow tired of the tickles first.

No, you didn't need to "free him".

After all, getting rid of you was a task that he could've done as soon as you touched him.

He just decided not to.

[ineffabeatlemindpalace]

Let's hope we get to keep seeing Rhys and Taika act together in the future because it cannot be emphasised enough how off the charts their chemistry is, on and off camera (see the interview below as a reference even though it's technically on camera, but not in character).

It is deeply touching and uplifting how they were able to portray such an intense and strong romantic relationship.

Their friendship is the reason for why we have got these two fictional characters that feel so very authentic. These two lovers who make our hearts beat faster by being twice as beautiful when they're in a scene together.

This obvious affection and sincerity goes beyond any medium. Of course, there has to be an idea, a script and all the means it takes to make television. We can thank a lot of people for making this particular show happen.

However, at the end of the day, there is love - in any form - which you cannot construct, make up, or pretend.

For those of us who are attached to Stede and Ed because they feel seen in them and they found hope in them for a future of happiness and kindness: Love will be there as the superior and precious emotion we have as human beings.

To conclude, these two share a special bond that makes me believe in true human connection.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 3/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Summary: Before he'd be able to meet you again, Homelander has a realization.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Let's be fr he would not fucking say that, but let's pretend he's self-aware. Not proofread and pretty messy.

“I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.” - Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton)

Homelander fit seamlessly into his old life - or rather role.

There wasn't any time to process what had happened, since a throughoutly investigation was quickly followed by bland boring routine again.

Vought almost immediately released a statement concerning Homelanders abscence, something about a secret mission that required him to be undercover. They're even planning to make a movie about this fake bullshit already, unbelievable.

The physical examination that followed was the worst part, at least if you asked him. He loathed hospitals for obvious reasons, their bright white enterior reminding him just a tad bit too much of the Bad Room. Yet in the end they were unable to find any residue of the drug, poison or whatever depowered him in his system.

And while yes, the threat of an unknown enemy having the basis to one day potentially render all supes human again sure was concerning - but the fact that the short time Homelander spent without his powers was the happiest he's ever been left a bitter aftertaste.

You on the other hand had been released after a brief interrogation and background-check. Even now they still worried you might leak top-secret information to the public, but they feared Homelander's fury even more - and he made it absolutely clear that anyone daring to lay just a finger on you would meet a terrifying end.

Both of you had never spoken a word about what else happened between you back in the arctic, but that was none of their business either way.

After all, you were no one.

Your whole existence was insignificant compared to his greatness, there's no way you could ever become a threat to him. Simply live your measly little life and stay out of his one...

...easier said than done when you've practically ingrained yourself into his heart, still consuming his every waking moment.

For the people at Vought somehow a quiet Homelander was even more unsettling than his usual, duplicitous benignity.

They are used to randomly fall victim to his whims, constantly being on edge around him. Basically anything could happen at any time, to anyone and without even so much as a warning.

But as of late...

"Homelander?" Maeve was the only one bold enough to wave in front of his face, making him break the reminiscing. "You there?"

"Hmm?" The man looked around, seeing all eyes on him - business as usual. Ashley was standing in front of the Seven, yet whatever she was babbling about went on deaf ears with her superior.

It was like this ever since his return, this nagging feeling as if he was only physically present. He heard people talk and go about their day but everything was so far away...most of the time he just dozed off into the distance, eyes staring right through until he lost focus of his surroundings.

One corner of his mouth begins to twitch, feeling even more irritated by those oppressing trifles than ever before. He takes a moment to collect himself, hands folded neatly on the table. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less" was his firm answer, even though he didn't know the question - or if he was even asked one. "Excuse me."

"The fuck is his deal lately?" A-Train dared adressing the elephant in the room, albeit still being in super-hearing range, pointing over his shoulder to the door their leader had just rushed out of.

The Deep shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders now that Homelander's overwhelming presence was gone. "Beats me. Let's just hope it stays this way for a while."

He would make a quick getaway, his firm, aggravated steps audible before the man itself came into one's field of view. Anyone who had the misfortune to run into him in this state lowered their heads in hope they wouldn't meet an untimely end just for him to let off some steam.

There's a stench of fear lingering in the air, in every corner of this damn building.

"Vermin" he clenched his jaw as he turned around the corner, slamming the door to his penthouse with so much force that the frame breaks. "Every single one of them."

Ordinary humans were so pathetic-fucking weak, and yet they dictated simply everything. It shouldn't be this way! They should worship the ground he walked - or floated - on, build monuments in his name, but instead what?!

The masses idolized him of course, but that fact came at the extend of his own dignity. He had to perform in order to put on this perfect disguise, always smile and say his lines like a damn puppet...with Vought pulling all of the strings.

Was that really the only thing he was good for? So many abilities, all this potential and yet there he was, doing nothing substantial.

Right now he had everything: The greatest power in the world, wealth he could never fully spent even if he tried and influence beyond one's imagination - and yet he felt as empty as never before.

What a fucking joke.

Employees at Vought knew about his true wicked nature, so he had to rely on fear to control them. It was all he ever knew and felt comfortable with, after all...

...until you came along and willingly chose him. You had peeked into a part of himself he swore to never let anyone too close to - and embraced it. Saw him at his lowest, hell, even got hurt in the process and chose to stay at his side nevertheless.

Even though you missed the whole picture among fragments of himself, he was sure you'd be the only one worthy to know his story.

What he had with you may have been make-believe, but still way realer than anything about his corrupted existence.

Was his heart really nothing but a bottomless pit that could never stop aching?

Homelander's suit had always been like a metaphorical armor - functioning against inconsensual touches of fans as well as sort of a disguise, so people would always only see the hero and never the broken shell of a man beneath it.

But now it felt as if the fabric was burning into his skin, eating away what's left of him. Feeling as if suffocating, he curses beneath heavy breaths as he tossed it away.

It wasn't even the same suit you had repaired for him back then - and right now he painfully regretted having Ashley get rid of it.

There was still the oversized shirt he had worn when he left you, though your scent was only faintly lingering now, even to his keen nose. Well hidden under his pillow to lull him to sleep, he now puts it on as he feverishly tried to imagine the sensation of your warm embrace encoating him like a safety west.

That night, he was woken by an eerie realistic dream. No nightmare for a change, no - and yet it was leaving him just as exasperated.

A memory, about that one time you had convinced him to travel to that small village near your ecological research station. Apparently a bunch of savages were holding a festival to celebrate the returning of daylight, and opposite to his expectations it was actually quite enjoyable - mostly thanks to your presence, of course.

He could still hear echoes of your laughter spinning in his head, goosebumps rising where you had touched him as you danced in the cold streets. Snowflakes were entangled in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly as you took his hands, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Your breath was visible as white mist, holding onto him for dear life.

Just when he had mustered up the courage to bend down to your height, maybe steal a kiss or two, even if it was only at the crown of your head, both of you lost balance and fell right on your asses.

Homelander heard his own boisterous laughter mixing with yours, remembered how absolutely flabbergasted he was when you suddenly tackle hugged and started kissing him senseless.

"Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, sure is." Oh for fuck's sake, not this again. But the voices kept returning, it's not like he had a say in the matter of his own mental illness. He never really has a say in anything, not even regarding his own life. "What are you so upset about?"

Well, it's not like he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon either way, so he followed the sound of his own voice back to the great mirror across the room.

"You're new" he states the obvious, seeing a reflection that doesn't resemble his current state at all. The man in the mirror was unkempt, with a scruffy beard and greyed strands standing out from his blonde scalp...

...and yet he seemed as happy as Homelander could only hope to one day comprehend. "Did we really look this shitty back in the Arctic?"

"Well, there's not exactly a stylist in the middle of nowhere" his counterpart shrugged, smugly adding "And Y/N liked it."

Homelander exaggeratedly rolled with his eyes, but the verbal jab had hit his weak spot. "You're just a farce, a cheap excuse of me, the real deal!"

"Nope" his amnesic alter ego scoffed at the insult, his smile never faltering. "I'm everything you always wished to be! What you could still become" he adds, his remark yet another fatal blow to Homelander's fragile ego. "You've got all the means to find her, so what's holding you back?"

"Because this is beneath me!" he roars so loudly, it's good that his apartment is big enough that no one could eavesdrop. "Why the fuck would I miss playing house with some nobody?"

However John is not accepting this bullshit for an answer, waving a scolding index finger. "Nah-ah, the real reason. Say. It."

With more force than necessary, Homelander scatters the mirror - would be too easy if that'd make them shut up, though.

"You know we don't just disappear." Several copies of himself are now talking, a medley of misery from each shard, reopening gaping wounds that never had the chance to heal.

"You think Y/N was just nice out of basic human decency. You think the kiss and everything else only happened because of the isolation before you came to that doorstep."

"You're afraid you won't live up to the John Y/N met. The ideal version of yourself that doesn't exist."

"That Y/N will find out what a freak you really are and runs away scared and disgusted, just like they all do eventually."

"You'll get bored of this at some point. Why bother?"

"Y/N will break under the pressure of this burden. It'd be selfish to do this. You can't expect this from anybody."

"Maybe you're even afraid of her coming in harms way because you know exactly what you're capable of."

"You already managed to destroy her life even without being your true self, just imagine what could happen. Stay away, at least for Y/N's sake."

"This whole farce just weakened you, and will continue to do so. We should just get rid of-"

"Shut. Up!" Homelander warns the last one, menacingly calm. "Don't you dare implying I could ever hurt Y/N. I-I'd rather fly myself into the fucking sun!"

"Oh boo-hoo. Someone gives you breadcrumbs of affection and you wag your tail like a dog in heat" the more depraved materialization of himself mocks, "Fucking pathetic, as always. Did you forget that people only exist for our fickle amusement?!"

"Don't listen to them, John." The only shard still attached to the wall was what he'd like to believe is his good aspects. "Listen to me: This is the one and only chance to get what you've always craved for - a real, loving home. Try it, at least. Remember Y/N's words - you deserve happiness."

There was no use in trying to catch up with sleeping. In fact it took all of his patience to wait the few hours until sunrise to wait for this confrontation...

...not with you, however.

Of course Madelyn would come to work this early. Typical. But Homelander was already expecting her - not waiting in front of her door to avoid seeming desperate, but a safe distance away, his glare seeping through the walls.

As soon as she appeared at the tower, he let himself into her office like so many times before. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and at the sight of him adds some liquor to it. Hard to believe she was bothered because of something important. "This early? Seriously?"

"You know what's funny?" he didn't really acknowledge her question as he jumped onto the sofa, picking up a decorative snow globe to fidget with. "I thought the enemy had somehow deactivated my transponder...but a quick visit at the tech department later, I found out it worked just fine. This whole time."

Madelyn quirked a brow at the hero, tentatively leaning forwards over her desk. Showing some cleavage usually never failed to soothe his nerves, but not today. "If you want to imply that we're the ones behind all this, I can assure you tha-"

"No" he raised a warning hand, softly shaking the snow globe before putting it down again. "Nonono, I'm sure if you had the means to threaten me, you would've long since done it by now."

Homelander then leapt to his feet, strolling through the room filled with countless photographs of himself - but right now, it was like looking at a person he doesn't recognize anymore.

"Here's another interesting thing I found out: Not even a full week after my disappearance, you made the pathetic attempt to replace me with Black Noir. It wasn't until the public and your sponsors demanded answers to my whereabouts that you gave in and started actively searching for me. Isn't that correct?"

Checkpoint.

"Hey, I've been gone so long, I need to make up for all our missed conversations, don't I?" he huffed bitterly, viewing a snapshot of him and her without being able to feel anything but nauseous. "I've lived among...inferior people for the first time in my life. No fans, no people of Vought, just...Y/N and I. Living the life I only ever knew from textbooks or scripts. And it made me have a realization, wanna hear?"

The vice president closed her eyes in negative anticipation, taking in a deep breath but not being able to bring out a single word before being interjected again. Homelander knew her ways of manipulation and the effect he could have on her if he let her talk too much.

This time it was his turn, and he'd be heard.

The woman in front of of him crosses her arms in defense, giving an approving hum as she knew denying him was never an option.

"Let me tell you my theory first, you're gonna love this: So a boy of sixteen years is finally released from the laboratory he was raised in. Despite all the horrible things he had to endure there, he wanted to use his powers for good, so no one has to suffer like he did. He knows nothing about the real world, let alone care about profit or any of that bullshit. And then he meets this aspiring woman who sees her chance to be influental through him. Can you follow me until now?"

She nods and nothing more, her expression unreadable. "Good, very good. So the boy is now kept around the most rotten, selfish and greedy people on the planet. He was never inheritly evil, he simply adapted to his environment, as clueless as he was thinking this is how the world operates. And at the time any of you realized you had created a monster it was too late. You regretted it - but not out of moral concerns, no. Simply because you knew you couldn't possibly control him forever."

The silence was so loud that it was deafening, automatically answering everything.

"Even if that person was your most valuable asset, your figurehead, you'd be damned if you didn't use the lucky coincidence of him disappearing, no questions asked. Right? Right?!"

Madelyn Stillwell was a lot, but not a liar - at least not in the easy definition. She knew how to twist words, to withheld information just enough to get through with whatever she wanted. But she'd never lie so openly, so blatantly. Especially if it served no purpose, like right now that there was no use anyway. "We'd be damned if we didn't."

"So then why do you keep acting like any of this is right?" He looks deep into her, quite literally for his abilities wouldn't tolerate deceit. "Look, we've located you and the dot was moving. We knew you were alive. I do care about you, Jo-"

"Don't call me by that name. You don't deserve it." His jaw tightens into an almost-snarl, slapping Stillwell's hand away at her disgusting attempt to distract him through seduction. "Don't you dare touching me, and don't fucking lie to me again! Ive been lied to all my life...I'm so, so sick of this shit!"

Homelander's eyes turned from cold coal into glistening embers, threatening to destroy everything in their path shall the answer not be to his satisfaction. "Say. It!" he orders, his hands slamming on the table punctuating every word.

"Goddamnit, I'm afraid of you!"

"...what?" His voice was barely audible, laced with a hurt that surprised him - since deep down he knew the truth for a long time already.

"I'm afraid of you" she repeats, voice shaky at first but then practically yelling as if she knew it could be her last words. "I am fucking afraid of you, John! We all are! Everyone was relieved when you were finally gone, because no money is worth being subjected to you!"

"You- Vought...destroyed me for fucking nothing" he practically whines, his face running through various expressions at once as the last remains of his sanity crumbled. "I was robbed of any chance at normalcry and then tossed away like a broken weapon, and you seriously expected me to not return for a vengeance?!"

Countless possibilities rushed through his brain, one atrocious act more vile than the other - about how he could make the responsible pay the price for their wrongdoings, with Madelyn being the first one...

...but all his fury vanished when for the fraction of a second, his mind wandered back to you, who was still out there somewhere.

Maybe it was not too late for him after all.

All his life Homelander was comfortable trapping himself in a cage that was never locked, fearing whatever awaited outside could be even worse - but you, without even trying, had given him the hope to set himself free.

"Thanks for finally being honest with me." John shakes his head as if to cast all his violent impulses off, musing "I allowed you to use me because I never knew anything else...but that stops right now."

He breaks one of the windows with ease, grossed out by past memories when she dares taking ahold of his wrist. "Wha- where do you think you're going?" She looks sickishly pale, dreading that this would be the day he would go on a murderous rampage all those decades of madness had inevitably caused.

"I'm the Homelander, and I can do whatever the fuck I want." He rose into the air, not biding her another last look. "If anyone of Vought even tries to come near me again, I swear to god I'll end every single one of you."

___

Being in the US for the first time since your childhood made you realize: Damn, you didn't miss this shit a bit. Nostalgia is a real phenomenom, as it seems.

And even in this small town your...is it right to call him 'ex'? Anyways, his face is plastered on every square centimeter you'd fix your eyes on. Posters, screens, even goddamn groceries!

Hard to heal from something you couldn't even label, especially when basically everything reminds you of the love your heart still holds for John - or rather an illusion of a man that never actually existed.

You currently sat in front of your laptop, several tabs opened that made you feel pathetically nosy - but hey, there was hope that harvesting information about the real Homelander would help you overcome those silly, irrational emotions.

Then it should be good for you that everything you found out about him was freaking disappointing.

Vought...you were sure you had heard that name before. Typical monopolist corporate with a finger in every pie, unethical practices and too much influence on politics. It was as obvious as it was enraging, and yet no one cared enough to act against them - not that you were any better. To their defense, supes can be pretty scary so you get the sentiment of not wanting any beef with their bosses...especially after seeing John go apeshit in the past.

But as they all did, Vought still cared about their public image, and so they did a lot of charity to appear ethical. Not that it actually helped to cover any of their crimes up - this was more like an unofficial etiquette, a rule to behave like they're actually the good guys.

A few years ago you had applied for sponsoring your cause, and of course they denied the request. Vought couldn't give two shits about the environment, and if you didn't know any better they'd even go so far as destroying it themselves if the cause - profit, in this case - justifies the means.

Interesting enough, shortly after your return to society an official letter of the company magically appeared at your new address: A pledge of secrecy in return for money, summed up.

No thank you, metaphorically selling your soul to the devil wasn't your kind of thing.

A walking incarnate product, you thought as you closed the interview. No civil life, always performing. And that fabricated all-american backstory...ugh.

And about Homelander...

All videos you sporadically saw of him were kind of unsettling. His eyes were just as empty as his words, movements robotic and fake as if he had only learned to mimick normal behavior. Seeing him like this made you wonder if he even had a soul, or if Vought had sucked all humanity out of him decades ago.

How comes no one seems to notice...or do people simply don't want to acknowledge the truth about their heroes and the ones that lead them?

You sound like a dang conspiracy-theorist for someone that just got dumped by a supe in the most humiliating way possible. It's possibly just a coping mechanism to cover up the hurt caused by the indeniable truth: Someone like you was inadequate to the infamous Homelander in every single way.

The display of your old laptop almost snapped as you closed it in sadness and frustration, turning your attention to building that stubborn IKEA shelf again.

Wanting to regain an objective view on the situation at hand, you remind yourself that the two of you led fundamentally different lives that could never work out together. You hate modern civilization, you hate being the center of attention, you hate events and big cities...

...but you don't hate him. And maybe with him, for him, you could have endured.

Funny, isn't it? You've been alone ever since the death of your parents, keeping to yourself even while pursuing your education. Never able to form any close bonds, even if you tried. Ironically, you were exactly as lonely as him - not made to be among others just the same.

"Still a horrible taste for furniture, I see."

That familiar voice made your blood run cold, collecting yourself impossible as the blue-reddish silhouette belonging to it came into your field of view just seconds after.

All questions and accusations died on your tongue when you reminded yourself just who was standing in your living room right now. Homelander could find you no matter where, and literally tear away the roof of your house without anyone ever daring to object.

"You look great" he cannot help but notice, but you grimace as you see your own reflection in the window: grey sweatpants, a messy bun and an old T-shirt of his. Sure.

"Well, in case you forgot: I'm still in tremendous debt, so I'm not exactly drowning in luxury" you scoff, face fixated on the clash of wood and screws. John narrows his eyes in confusion, stating "Vought was supposed to recompensate you."

"Financially? Well, not without a catch." For a moment he thinks loudly, talking about 'ripping Ashley's head off', which made you finally turn to look at him. "Metaphorically" he added, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Oh, yeah...Ashley." The name only forcedly escaped your throat, which did not go unnoticed by Homelander. "Your girlfriend and I had a long talk back then. She explained your outburst was caused by PTSD. So no worries."

"My wha-" John made a dramatical gagging sound, crinkling his nose at you. His fists were on his hips, expression grim ike always when he was about to rant about something, making your lips twitch as you resisted smiling at the adorable sight. "Gosh, no. Ew. She's everything but that."

You had almost forgotten how cute he could be when one pushed his buttons - good to know it's still this way. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

"Well, I-" He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to come up with something, anything, but it sure took him a while. "Y-You didn't publish anything."

"I searched for your article. You've been talking about it nonstop back then." He dared stepping closer, making himself as small as humanly possible. "Actually I hoped to be mentioned and showered in praise as your assistant."

"Huh?" You narrow your eyes at him, and his tension is barely veiled. Great, just great Mr. Charming.

Okay, that one made you laugh. You had almost forgotten how refreshing those little exchanges were. "Well well well...I had to start from scratch after a certain someone wrecked my laboratory." He nervously rubs the back of his head, unintelligibly chuckling "Right...sorry about that."

"It's alright" you dismiss the guilt in his voice with a cheerful remark, "I'm teaching at a university temporarily, until I got enough money for another try." He knew. All this time he never lost track of you, craving to walk this path together with you but too cowardly to ask for your permission to join. "Seriously, Homel-"

"John" he corrects you, showing no ill intend. "Please, just call me John." Oh, how he missed the way his name sounded in your voice: Neither shallow, nor demanding or afraid - just John, no strings attached.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, John. But..." you intertwine your fingers to keep them from trembling, biting the inside of your cheek. "Really, you don't owe me anythi-"

"I owe you every-fucking-thing!" John blurts out, his insistance showing as he softly grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, you helped me despite gaining nothing from it. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. I mean, without you I'd be a fucking icicle right now."

How often did he say this corny trademark quote 'You are the real hero(es)' before? This is the first time that it felt genuine - after all, you had saved him in more ways than just one.

You cackle shortly, more out of attachment to the man than his joke actually being funny. But the longer his hands remained stubbornly on your body, the harder it became to act like acquaintances merely sharing a crazy story that's long in the past.

"But you can't give me what I want..." You don't know what moved you to speak from the heart, but after all that had happened you deserved to drown in some self-pity. John's forehead wrinkled in an attempt to make sense out of you, insisting "C'mon, let me indulge you a little. For old time's sake."

Nothing to lose after already having everything taken away from you, right?

"It's my fault, honestly" you try to keep it together, but you knew there was no hiding your choked sobs from his senses either way. "I fell for something fake. And I know, I know it's stupid, but-"

"Not everything was fake" you rudely got interrupted again, but the content of his rambling made you forgive him easily. "My feelings weren't."

It took you a while to have John's confession actually dawn on you, releasing a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Your...what?"

"Took me long enough to realize" he snickered as he pulled you into a long-due hug, pressing a wet kiss into your hair out of habit. "I've tried to continue my old life, I really did. But fuck it...this whole time all my thoughts revolved around you."

He could barely hear over the sound of his own fastened heartbeat, but clearly your pulse was racing as well - not out of fear, that much he could tell.

And yet as much as the shared sentiment partially relieved you, there was something else laying heavy on your chest.

"I- don't know what to say, John" you try to wring yourself out of his embrace, but he stubbornly narrows the space between you, making you gasp in surprise.

Homelander was not someone taking no for an answer, used to always get what he wants no matter how. And people not acting like he anticipated was like hitting the bulls eye of his fragile psyche.

He'd be damned to just accept his loss after everything he put at risk.

"Hey big guy...look at me."

Your voice alone made him snap out of a downward-spiral that usually was an unstoppable force, always ending in tragedy. As he met your eyes he detected the plea in them, a vulnerability he had yet to allow himself.

"I have very strong feelings for you, John." Good. Then where's the fucking problem?! "But I've spent a lot of time thinking about" you pause, awkwardly gesticulating between the two of you. "This. You and me, us...John, you were talking in your sleep a lot back then. If you were not busy screaming your lungs out, I mean. About burning, drowning or being cut up alive..."

Your eyes begin to water at the memory, clawing a fistful of blue fabric from his suit. "Just...tell me the truth, and not that fancy propaganda bullshit. If we continue this, then I want to know you inside and out."

"What if..." John's voice cracks, only notices he'd been crying as he feelsbthe salt of his own tears prickle on his lips. He fucking hates this weakness, this sickness of his, especially if he cannot hide behind a facade. "What if the truth if so much more horribe than you could ever imagine?" His hands squeeze yours now, as if he fears you'd disappear if he let go off of this emotional anchor you had become.

John was about to pull back, bracing himself for the rejection. His only solace was the thought that it's probably the best for you.

If you'd know this relationship would eventually turn you into the moral support of a malignant narcissist and subsequent homicidal maniac, there was no way on earth you'd still voluntarily be a part of his life.

"Then I guess we've got to figure it out."

Whatever the extend of his pain, you are aware it's going to put a huge toll onto you as well. He most likely can't live normally, let alone love.

You cradle his face in your hands and he subconsciously leans into the touch, whining at his own neediness. "I can't say that my love is going to erase your hurt, but I can promise to be at your side through all of it."

"That's about the best fucking thing someone has ever said to me" he half-cries, half-laughs when you finally pull the man on his collar down to your height, sealing your promise with a kiss.

"And now get out of that costume" you tease, pinching one of the pads on his chest. "Looks even more hilarious now that I know you're not all that muscular underneath."

"Well, to my defense, other clothes aren't really fit for breaking sonic speed." He twirls you around skillfully, embracing you from behind as close as humanly possible. "And besides, that makes me the perfect candidate for a long-distance relationship, don't you think? You stay in this boring chaff, hell even the end of the world if you want to, and I could still visit you everyday. Or I'll just kidnap you to wherever you want."

Seems like he had already planned it all out. Not the most concerning action of his, though. Almost sweet, if you want to see it this way.

Won't be the last time, surely.

"But what do you want?" The question was so simple, so downright basic that not knowing the answer left him empty inside. His wishes? Does he even have any dreams or aspirations?

There was never a 'John' - the boy with this name died in that lab so Homelander could rise. For so long he had existed for the sole purpose of others that he completely forgot he was in charge of his own fate...

He leans to kiss you again, more tender this time as he savours the way your tears mix with his."I want to enjoy this until I can give you a proper answer one day."

...until you opened his eyes, through sheer kindness and willpower.

Maybe humans aren't so weak after all.

Finally, he smiles. It's the kind of smile that reaches up to his ears, making his whole face crinkly. One that matches with his eyes, genuine and radiant just like back when you first met.

"There you are...welcome home, John."

[derww]

DAY 18: EXPLOSION

CW: Death, violence

That's what Minute feels when Wemmbu, realizing that he is no longer immortal, rushes to run: superiority.

His last week has been a sequence of failures to the extent that it has destroyed all desire to protect everyone in him. He was crushed, and the only way he knew how to deal with it was to take up the sword. The plan was complicated, but he put everything on the line to bring it to fruition – and oh, fuck, it's worth it. Because only for a moment, but fear flashes in Wemmbu's eyes.

He is not used to getting satisfaction from the weakness of others – he killed people, but it was a task and a job, something detached and infinitely sterile, not deserving of special emotions. In a way, this month has turned him inside out and stitched a new man together.

At first, Wemmbu is sarcastic and ironic, even in such a situation, even being on the verge of death, and he clutches the spyglass tightly in his hand, and explosions rumble from above, but they do not reach them. At one point, no longer able to pretend that the situation is not serious enough, Wemmbu goes quiet.

He dies pitifully, infinitely deep underground, surrounded by obsidian, to the laughter of Minute and his allies, and at the moment when Pentar pierces his stomach and the blow goes through, and Wemmbu suffocates in blood and, it seems, tears, a pulling hum sweeps through the server.

Still smiling, he turns to his friends – and hey, they finally defeated the evil god! The one who took away his presidency! Who messed up the server and pushed his friends into betrayal! What a fitting death for someone so pathetic. He is finally satisfied.

They return to the spawn: Wemmbu is here, frozen in one place at point zero, staring at the wall and desperately trying to move, but being pushed back to his place by an inexorable force.

He should be dead – like everyone else – because it's hardcore, and he was killed. But his divine essence seemed to be trying to argue with the universe itself for the right to continue.

And Minute would never be the same, but he could breathe deeply again, and even though he wasn't working for the future of the entire server, he still had people he really cared about. And they were there, not like those who had spent many months with him only to betray him later.

Trying to find a way to finally get rid of him here and now, they walk around looking for a working way to kill him again. But Wemmbu, even if absolutely helpless, does not drown, does not burn, and is not wounded by the sword – as if, bad thought, he were immortal again, but Minute easily calms himself down, saying that this is impossible.

Wemmbu stares at Pentar in front of him. Even in such a situation, he continues to grin. An unknown force does not allow him to say a word, and they rightly laugh at this. There is no doubt: they have the opportunity to finally deal with this today, and they don't want to wait another minute. And push Wemmbu outside the spawn chunks and bookban him? After all that he had to go through to get here, it sounds like an easy walk.

From time to time, Wemmbu twitches, turns, and shifts his gaze, but they quickly get used to it because he is still unable to really move. What difference does it make that he's struggling if he never gets out? Once upon a time, infinitely long ago, Minute was his friend. He did not understand well what could lead to the current situation.

They're relaxing. It's easy because there's no one else on the server who can beat them. They chat, continuing to come up with ways to simplify their work, to smash Wemmbu's stupid head, finish off the remaining Players and finally go to celebrate the victory. Wemmbu looks at them with a terrible stare. He tries to touch them – to punch them; he wants to punch them. He fails.

"He shouldn't be immortal," Ash mutters. "I disabled his immortality; he should be equal to an ordinary person for the server. Then why is he-"

Minute is deafened with the heavy and multiplying and pressing to the ground and so loud hum of bans. Right before his eyes, Jumper, Pentar and Asha are being torn to shreds. Not even a body part remains of any of them. But Minute, even if stunned, even if cut, even if almost blinded, but he survives-

Minute survives Minute survives Minute survives Minute survives

A desperate howl bursts from his throat.

Still not fully realizing reality, he looks down, completely dumbfounded. Wemmbu still doesn't move, but his gaze is fixed on Minute. He's not smiling. His hand clutches a spyglass.

[egg-emperor]

Do you think zavok low key enjoyed being enslaved by Eggman?👀

If his initial enslavement went anything like the prequel comic in Archie, I'd be very surprised if he didn't. How could you not enjoy sexy Eggman walking in like he owns the place, forcing you to submit and call him master by inflicting immense pain on you, and literally stepping on you? It was very sexually charged

And I mean it's kinky in the game too with Eggman just smirking and immediately pulling out the conch as soon as Zavok gets too brave,

bringing him to his knees forcing him to bow at his feet,

and wagging his finger at him

punish me daddy 🥴

You already know Eggman absolutely gets off on being able to dominate this older beastly hunk of monster guy and bring him to his knees and cause him pain and fear. It's a real power trip and he loves being kinky about it and dominating him in others ways when they're alone too. Zavok tries to pretend Eggman is the only one getting something out of it but I imagine despite the pain and the fear, it's quite arousing. In fact that makes it exciting and thrilling

But there's shame in it because he shouldn't enjoy letting this pathetic entitled power hungry human dominate a mighty Zeti like him. And he shouldn't enable this abuse and enslavement and ill treatment towards his kind, it isn't an example of being a good strong leader. He also really doesn't want to give Eggman the satisfaction of feeling superior and in control because how cheeky and prideful he is about dominating him really pisses him off

Zavok tries to insist that Eggman wouldn't have any power over him at all if it wasn't for that damn conch but really he ends up putting such a terribly powerful spell of lust on him too when he trains him into engaging in his kinky master and slave role scenarios. And he's just got a really nice ass that captivates him and he really knows how to make good use out of it to be so tempting, teasing, and addictive

Especially when he gets him on his back and straddles him and shows him what he can do with it, all while holding the conch teasingly over him to remind him what would happen if he didn't comply- but how could one possibly bear to pull away from such a delightful sexy big plump ass 💜💘 After that anyone would happily be his slave and live as his toy to mount and use as he pleases. Eggman knows he likes it and enjoys being a real cheeky cocky bastard over it

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

Something about Izuku I keep thinking about is how much he's a downright hypocrite and the only reason he isn't called out on it is because he's one for himself and not for others and at the core of it all it boils down to his pending childhood issues and the *vaguely gestures* "relationship" he and Katsuki have- I mean, just out of the top of my head:

Wants to be a strong and dependable hero but is at his weakest when he's alone.

Says to Himiko he would never hurt someone he loves but was the reason Katsuki was forced to dance with death until his own sacrifice. Hell, I'm expecting him to actually accidentally hurt Katsuki (Physically? Emotionally? You decide) next time they talk.

Wants to save people with a smile but barely cracked genuine ones during his battle with Tenko- I can think of two(?), and even then those felt more like a resignation (379 and 412 iirc) than actual smiles.

Being aware Kacchan's a jackass, fine, but the entire "Imitate the people you love/admire" themes, having an attitude when heated or absolutely Done with anyone's BS (makes sense for someone who grew up besides a kid in the Inferiority-Superiority Complex but still) and "This is a battle between All For One and One For All, you can't keep up" is still very much pot calling the kettle black (it's because his "arrogance" is rooted in selflessness and desire to be useful but that's for another day)

Deadass called All For One out for being a lonely man pretending to be a "Demon Lord" yet will not admit he himself thinks a he's just a lonely kid pretending to be a hero; and by the time he seemed to be growing out of it: Paranormal Liberation Front.

"IT'S YOUR POWER, ISN'T IT?!" Cool, nice of him to comfort Shoto and try the same with Touya, now if only he could do the same in regards to himself and OFA-

Wasn't able to connect with Tenko at all and that's why he failed but it's wild to me he'd still the one who even at surface level could relate to):

Spinner, because they're nerds who were ostracized based on Quirks/lack thereof looking for a purpose and were unable to help him because of AFO's interference;

Himiko, because they want to be like others (because they hate themselves at least a little bit) but also show love in a way others wouldn't accept and;

Touya, because they wanted to prove they could be useful to others and be heroes to the point of actively harmed themselves while using their own Quirk.

Hell, when you think about it he related to the crying child but he could've used Literally Anything from his relationship with Katsuki to try and reach Tenko, but of course he didn't, that means he'd have to think about his own issues and yet he saw Tenko's issues no wonder he didn't get the job done-

Also can we talk about him saying he relates to Ochako confronting Himiko but she actually succeeded- Or even Shoto wanting to forgive Endeavor; I keep recalling both Ch. 322 him saying he won't forgive Tenko for anything he did (understandable but still) and Tenko going "And I won't forgive anyone". Connecting these three instances are huge stretches, I know, but really, he hasn't addressed the apology he got- combined narrative punishments for empty platitudes.

Kept saying he needed to improve in his control with OFA: had to get beaten up during his internship and in the Summer Camp for that lesson to stick... Then he heard the words "Control Your Heart" and decided to Not Address It At All.

Supposed to surpass but he's really All Might's successor in every way that counts: Smile so nobody will worry, keep fighting even though you are destroying yourself, be so selfless you'll make your friends desperate enough to make you stop for your own good, hide every single thing you can about yourself, the only difference is in the bed they made: Toshinori lies in omission most of the time, and Izuku thinks he lies in white when almost every other character's in the dark, but as long as there's a dream of bright smiles in the future, who cares they're now forcefully entangled in this nightmare, right?

And these are just the examples I can think of the top of my head, there might be more, but. No wonder we've been "panicking" (let's be real his therapist already scheduled him for Ground Beta atp-) Shoto and Ochako brushed him off by accident in Chapter 425, it's the consequences of his hypocritical ass coming back to bite him-

(I am not hating on him, by the way, it's just something about him I wanted to point out. I like that aspect of his. Makes him more human. But jeez can someone call him out and make him practice what he preaches? XD)

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.7<< >>Ch.9

Notes: He's a desperate man needing a desperate plan.

Chapter 8: Don't Need Another Perfect Lie...

Word count: 1.6K

It wasn't elementary planning to escape the headquarters for the upcoming outing.

After returning to the society, Jess stood waiting, prepared to rip him a new one in front of their peers about how he was late or how he didn't even bother to impose that he'd be out later than expected.

“The stuff I needed wasn't all at that one shop.” His voice aloof, with a hint of moroseness.

“That doesn't excuse the fact you left Peter and I here longer than what you told us!” Jess shot an incredulous scowl at her ‘superior.’

“I was only thirty minutes la-”

“Two! You were over two hours late, Miguel! I know how time works! I'm not stupid!” She paced back and forth, her hand on her forehead. 

“If you just notified us that you expected to be out for an extended period of time, then it would have been a bit better. We would've accommodated better, but no! You decided to go the Miguel route and not bother communicating over something as simple as this!”

Miguel flooded with boiling rage. All eyes are on them. His teeth gritted as he struggled not to crack and not send his temperament into a spiral. Especially with the box of medallions from you under his arm. 

“Look, I'm sorry. I will make up your time. Now. Let. It. Go.” Miguel loomed over Jess, who still maintained her stance. 

She clicked her tongue and pressed her lips tightly together, head turned to the sky, eyes shut. 

“This once. Only! This one time. But if you try and pull this stunt again, Miguel, I swear–”

“You won't have to worry about it happening again.”

“I'm expecting it not to.” And with that, Jess sauntered away. 

Miguel fumed as he spotted the other spiders peeking before rushing out, pretending to do their own thing. And that only peeved him off more. 

Miguel had to reason with someone or concoct a scheme. As time churned, Miguel had less than three days to prepare something.  

You proposed to not hang out that Wednesday night, much to his dismay, so you can both be fully rested up Thursday. A challenge for him.

The setback was that he had no one to rely on. Jess was surely out of the picture, and E-616 Peter was presumably upset with him. 

He briefly voted on a code to power the systems down for the day, but an anomaly ambush can occur if they're not heeding precautions. 

He researched all of the spider workers who would be able to manage his shift. E-13122 Peter is one of his best, just as good as Jess, but that would raise suspicion.

Lyla was out of the equation all together. She's reliable to a certain extent. 

Each day passed as he bid on creating something, yet each idea was unsustainable. The more the clock ticked, the more lies he messaged to you about him definitely being there, which led him to become more hostile. 

Before he realized it, Wednesday night snuck up on him, and Miguel was frothing. He had less than twelve hours to come up with something, or his excursion with you had to be canceled. 

And he refused to reach that conclusion. 

“Hey Miguel, I've been meaning to ask, what's the invention you're working on to get all those goob- whoa!” 

Peter swiftly dodge-rolled as Miguel swung at full force. Mayday cooed and chortled loudly. 

“What the heck was that for? I know you don't have a spidey sense, but you gotta be careful where you swing that-”

Peter leapt onto the desk as Miguel catapulted a trash bin at him. 

“Miguel! What has gotten into you?!” Peter shielded Mayday's top half of her body from the increasing irate spider.

“¡Se supone que ni siquiera debería estar aquí mañana! Pero no tengo nada, nada a lo que recurrir! ¡Ella me odiará! ¡No quiero que me odie!” 

Miguel maniacally squeezed his hair, talons leaving marks, treading back and forth. 

Peter hopped off the table and lifted his hands. He began to breathe slowly from the nose and out of the mouth at the anxiety-induced man. Miguel eventually mimicked the motions, his pants subsiding. 

“There we go, big guy. Now tell Peter what's got your suit in a bunch.”

Miguel pierced into his soul with those bloodshot, scarlet eyes. He hasn't slept in two days, stressing over how he'll be able to spend the day with you.

“Peter, I need to see her tomorrow! I have to! I have no way out!” He struck the metal surface, his monitors rattling from the force. 

Peter squinted as he tried to understand what Miguel was rambling on about, when it struck him. 

“It's that girl, isn't it?” He snapped his fingers. “It is, isn't it?! I knew it! I knew you were getting close with her!”

Miguel dug his nails into his work surface, making an unpleasant noise. Peter rapidly covered May's ears from it as he halted his tiny victory. 

“Right, right, sorry! So why can't you exactly go see her tomorrow? What's holding you back?” He cocked his head. 

“I can't leave this, Peter. I have to be here. They need me here. Jess needs me here. I need to be here.”

Peter opened his mouth but shut it when he saw that Miguel wasn't done. 

“But I want to be there. I want to be there for her, with her. She brings that simplicity. That normality. I just want to be near her.” He slumped on his knees, claws on either side of his head.

Peter dazed on at the beaten man, who was indisputably thwacked in the chest with a cupid's arrow. He raked the room, scouring for something, when that lightbulb went off.

“Give me your watch.” Peter held his hand out.

Miguel was stunned before shaking his head.

“What? No! I'm not giving you my-”

“You like this girl, right? You said it yourself–you want to be near her. So give me the watch.” He made a grabbing gesture. 

“Peter, I'm not–I'm not just going to give you my-”

“Miguel, come on now! I know you want to give it to me!

“I do not want to give you my watc-”

“JUST GIVE ME THE DAMN WATCH!” 

Only beeps and machines with the occasional spider-people voices echoed through Miguel's office, as he was stupefied by the sudden aggression from his usual perky friend. 

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean to yell. Mayday, never repeat that word.” Peter whispered in May's hair as she squealed and clapped her tiny hands.

“Look, Miguel, give yourself a break. You're the only spider who rarely does it! You're allowed to relax like the rest of us. So for your sanity and for the love of God ours, give me the watch.” 

Peter once again persistently held his hand out. Miguel clutched onto the device. He has never ditched his comm for any reason. None. It's too risky, and anything can happen if he's not keeping up with surveillance.

“What are you planning on doing with it?” Miguel narrowed his eyes, leery of whatever proposal Peter was eager to make. 

“I'm going to have you patrol my universe.”

Before Miguel could retaliate, the spider resumed. 

“I'm going to have a drone fly across the city and tell them you're doing a patrol for me. And if others try to get in contact, I'll redirect your messages to me!” He jazzed his hands, and a wild grin spread across his face. 

“And if they ask why I can't patrol my own dimension, I'll just convince them I'm having a family fun day. Perfect plan!”

Peter proudly puffed his chest as May wriggled out of her sling, crawling over to Miguel. He remembered what you stated when you described how Peter would aid him if he ever needed assistance. How he's willing to tackle his tasks for him just so he can go out. 

May squirmed onto Miguel's lap, gaily peering up at him with her rosy-red cheeks. Miguel lifted his head to Peter, who was squatting in front with the same jovial smile. 

“I got you, Miggy. Now, please hand over the device so you can enjoy yourself.” 

Miguel's breath stuttered as he observed Peter's eyes. Then he rested the confined tool in the other hero's palm.

Two more strings lay dormant. 

“Gracias, Peter, I truly, truly appreciate this. But if anything goes wrong.” 

Peter wagged his finger and tutted at his boss. “Miguel, nothing will go wrong! And if it does, I’ve seen how you handle these situations a bazillion times. Have some type of faith in me!”

He plucked his yawning daughter off Miguel's shoulder and slid her back into her respective spot. “Time for Mayday to hit the sack. And I think you should too; you have a big day tomorrow.”

Miguel bowed his head, thanking him further as he watched the two portal back to their earth.

He rose to his feet and trudged to his multitude of PC monitors before slipping in a peek at the video of Gabriella and him. 

“Gabi, mi osita… tengo a alguien que aprenderá más sobre ti. Alguien que... aprenda sobre mis pecados. I don't know how they will exactly react, but I feel as though they need to know who I truly am. What I truly am.”

He paused, his eyes darting from one glowing screen to the next, before stepping away into his hiding space to get some rest for tomorrow. 

All he could pray was that you wouldn't find him repulsive by the end of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you'll like to be tagged whenever I upload a new chapter, you can click here <3

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble

[thingsseenandheard]

As promised I am here to write the third installment in my Cazador meta essay collection about identity self perception and the fact that I don't believe Cazador has a concept of who he is as a person and continually despises himself but he copes with it by behaving as though the "versions" of himself that he despises are literally different people

At a basic level, Cazador hates weakness. I think it probably follows that Cazador hates his younger self - pre vamp and spawn - for being weak because it was through finally besting Vellioth that he became strong. That was the only real moment of successful strength amidst all of that, at least in his eyes, and I think that was the turning point where Cazador became Lord Szarr. (I have a LOT to say about Vellioth's death but I'll save that for Cazalore essay #4)

However Cazador is obviously unbelievably self centered and egotistical, & I'm going to be making the case that he's a narcissist in the actual clinical sense rather than just the "oh that person is very selfish" sense because it ties in with this very well because Cazador's confidence & ego rely completely on the fact that he is extremely deluded & detatched from reality. And more on that in my next post too regarding Vellioth's death. If Cazador's delusion is cracked even a little bit I think he crumbles, because he has successfully avoided being forced to face the reality of his past and his actions and who he is as a person for centuries, and I don't think that mentally he could handle being forced to come to terms with the fact that he is not special. And he is not innately "better" than Vellioth just because he's the one who came out on top. And the fact that he is able to successfully compartmentalize all his bad weak feelings does not make him superior. His entire persona, Lord Szarr, is so flimsy it's a miracle he's managed to keep it together this long. Because his persona is built on thinking he is special and inherently superior and better than everyone else because he isn't fucking weak. At least, not anymore.

But he used to be. And he must hate that. How does a person as unstable and detatched as Cazador is cope with the fact that he was once everything he now hates? He just doesn't think about it. It's one more thing he pushes away and refuses to acknowledge and I think perhaps the easiest way for him to do that is separating "Cazador" from Lord Szarr. Because Cazador is weak, Cazador was so stupid he got taken in by Vellioth in the first place, Cazador wasn't strong enough to kill Vellioth the first time, Cazador wasn't clever enough to escape. All of these things are traits that he clearly reviles in others, Astarion being a prime example. It's unthinkable to him that he used to be that, so actually, no he wasn't. That was some other guy. Lord Szarr actually has always been very strong and smart and steadfast and he has never been pathetic or weak and he has never begged for mercy once in his life, no sir, not ever.

I always find it so interesting when there's a character like this who you can clearly see the distinction between who they are now and who they used to be and who they have the potential to become, especially when they're as deluded as Caz because there's no way he is at peace with all of that! There is no way he's looking back at himself as a spawn or pre-vampire and is okay with the person he used to be. (And if he could see the future pre-vampire or as a spawn, there is no way he would have been at peace with the person he was going to become.)

So he pretends that wasn't him. It's the path of least resistance, because who's going to correct him? Vellioth's dead, and there's nobody else alive and in his vicinity and with the courage it would take to say no, actually, that was still you. The easiest way he can find to cope with this and preserve his extremely fragile and shallow persona that's really just a rebrand of Vellioth with less impalement is by acting like his past self is a literal actual completely different person, because then it's not hating himself, it's not hating the mighty Lord Szarr, it's hating Cazador, and that's okay because they're different, and Lord Szarr is strong where Cazador was weak.

And the separating of himself into these different people doesn't help with the fact that the mighty Lord Cazador Szarr is not a person, he's a shell. He's a mask, meticulously crafted to cover up all the weakness and instability and fear that never really left him. And at some level, just like I think he knows he would return to Vellioth, I think he knows this, too. But this, coming to terms with the fact that he doesn't know who he is and the versions of himself that he hates are the same as who he is now, it's too much. I don't think he can handle it.

And there's even more to it than that, because as I've said before, Cazador has become Vellioth. Not better than Vellioth, he is Vellioth. After everything Vellioth put him through, can we honeslty say he would be happy to realise that? Absolutely not. So despite the fact that he absolutely hates who he used to be, he is still clinging to parts of that version of him because so long as he can preserve some of that, he is not Vellioth. And he doesn't have to come to terms with the fact that actually, yeah he is. And that this is exactly what Vellioth wanted him to be. Cruel, selfish, egotistical, everything a Vampire Lord is supposed to be. Everything Vellioth was. Everything Cazador is now. So I think that even though he goes to such incredible lengths and does so many mental gymnastics to avoid hating Lord Szarr because Lord Szarr is supposed to be the perfect Vampire Lord and he is supposed to be better than Vellioth, he still has to hate his current self too because his current self is Vellioth whether he is capable of recognizing that or not, and god knows he hated Vellioth. But also he didn't, because he loved Vellioth, but Cazador doesn't know what love is. The only love he knows is the love Vellioth taught him. So he has this horrible toxic relationship with himself that only he can break out of but he just can't do it, because he is still that hurt, terrified, weak young man and he is still that docile, compliant spawn because he knows what'll happen if he's not, and he is still the cruel, self-centered Vampire Lord that Vellioth knew he could become. And all of these things coexist within him and he simply cannot take it. And he doesn't know how to deal with any of it, so he doesn't.

And I am putting so much emphasis on Lord Szarr being distinct from Cazador both because I think that's how he sees himself and because only one of those two people is actually real. Lord Szarr doesn't really exist. He is a fabrication mean to cover up all of Cazador's shortcomings. And Cazador is so dead terrified of being anything that Vellioth would have punished him for that it's literally easier to act like his past self is dead and gone than it is to accept that every version of Cazador is him and he is every version of Cazador, and he's so trapped within himself because he simply cannot come to terms with any of that. But of course, the flip side of that is I think he is also dead terrified of being Vellioth, which is why he has to hold on desperately to this separate, past, dead and gone version of himself at least a little bit, because that is the absolute last thing, in his eyes, standing between him and truly becoming his own Master. He can't be Cazador, and he can't be Vellioth, so who the hell is he?

It's a question that only he can answer, but he is completely incapable of doing so.

[saintsenara]

opinions on bill/fleur/draco, remus/molly, and a little gross, but in my opinion, a god-tier, superior ship- luna/garrick ollivander

i am absolutely shrieking at these, pal - not least because it's absolutely beautiful [i think...?] to find another person suffering from the lollivander delirium.

[or it's a sign that hell will never be in want of sinners to fill it...]

fleur delacour/draco malfoy/bill weasley

bill and fleur are demonstrably a hot pairing, and i am sincerely invested in the combined power of them overawing draco, who is canonically weak-willed and annoying and would, i think, rather enjoy being told that in a safe and consensual environment.

fleur's brandishing a riding crop and telling him to stop pretending to be the sexiest blonde in the country when he isn't even the sexiest one in the house. bill's demanding a lifetime of service [wink wink] in exchange for the whole "letting greyback into hogwarts" thing.

they're very happy.

remus lupin/molly weasley

i'm actually very taken with this one, on the basis of @whinlatter's excellent meta on lupin and molly's canonical relationship. as she notes, molly is the person who is there most for lupin in the period from the end of goblet of fire onwards - and lupin is someone whose life has been so unstable and so devoid of [above all] domestic comfort that molly's provision of exactly that is something which clearly means a tremendous amount to him.

i am on the record - as any good tomarry girly must be - that the series really overlooks the value of love-as-comfort in its prioritising of love-as-sacrifice, and that the transformational power of being warm and well-fed and appreciated is something which deserves more respect as a concept in fics.

molly being able to offer this to lupin really has the potential to be something quite beautiful - not, perhaps something epic and exciting, but something which is love nonetheless.

and, of course, if you're less inclined to sincerity/prefer your beauty laced through with mischief, you can just make it a sort of mammy-kink thing. slay.

luna lovegood/garrick ollivander

the three of us who back this ship are eating good!

my justification for it - as i've said here - is that i think luna's whole... vibe works best in ships which pair her with a condescending older man, in a trope used with great effect throughout the western literary tradition.

my belief is that luna and her eventual canon husband have a friedrich bhaer/jo march meets bella baxter/duncan wedderburn flavour, but i also think you can take it sadder and more messed up in a sort of maxim-and-the-second-mrs-dewinter or effi briest/baron innstetten way - and have her patronised to by and in thrall of an older man who has taken advantage of her transparent naiveté...

ollivander is a really interesting character because - as harry notes in philosopher's stone - of his slightly voldemort-ish attitude towards magic: that is, the idea that the character of magic [i.e. whether it is dark or not] is of secondary important to the power of the person performing the magic. i can definitely see him using luna's more spacey beliefs as a springboard for him to convince her of this worldview...

[giddlywinks]

An Evangelical clown troupe could convince anyone to support genocide, and y'all could not even convince yourselves to get off your phones long enough to see that you MUST rectify your communication towards conservatives! You have to convince them of you through empathy and accesible communication! They hate you, and they are the majority. You really thought saying you hate them, think they're idiots, or delusional over and over to have that thrown in their face for almost a decade would make them say you were right? And CHANGE their minds???

And although many of you would like to believe your common sense makes you superior, it doesn't! You are just as uneducated as them. Do you know how insurance companies work? The stock market? The FDA? FEMA? The Fed Reserve? Crypto? International history and US Politics? The way local governments work? Etc. No, you don't, but you believe that pretending you do, while someone whom you've never met, from a pool of options you didn't choose, advocates for you about those issues, is going to produce the outcome you would like. You are not wise! You are just as exploited by your own willingness to be both angry and uninvolved.

You need to heal your trauma and communication with those who are within your network to be able to reach them in their confusion, fear, and distrust. Anger and words don't produce solidarity! Education, literal support for others, refining communication to be accessible and to be logically sound is what convinces others that your ideas are worth their time. That posturing of pseudo-superiority, both intellectual and moral, while handing the left's ass to the mouth of a shark, is why the tide has shifted devastatingly.

Do y'all know who Audre Lorde is? The master's tools of fearmongering and anger were the ONLY platform of the Democratic campaign before even Harris. Why did you all believe that you could sit at home hating and shitting on millions of people, somehow be better than them, and then be able to convince them they need to make the choice you would make in an election they barely understand in most of the geography of this country! You have got to get it through your mind that they are the majority and they always have been.

Stop being assholes to assholes like that convinces everyone to be and act differently or better. Stop wasting time on the bullshit of everything needing to be correct or appropriate and start being effective instead! It's civil disobedience, not "look at us and know we are right." Stop thinking you can only do a little march, an emotional social media post, or any other out-of-touch political action a couple times every year and change the world. You can't! Start taking actual political action on personal and community levels to dismantle the systems that privelege you in some convenient areas and plot your death in others. Stop thinking you just don't know how to get involved. Educate yourselves and make it up! Stop giving people/corporations your money when they hate you. Stop making the hatred for the left grow larger. Stop wasting your time in fear and excuses while you're wiped off the map.

This happened twice because none of you learned a thing! Grassroots movements in solidarity with rural communities NOW NOW NOW!

I wrote multiple versions of this post that Tumblr kept saying failed to post, and I clarified in those, but I'll do so here, too. It's important. I want to clarify that my criticism is towards the hypocrisy of the bitter left to project blame and assume that's a win for progress. It's not a win for anyone. My criticism is NOT directed towards the countless, tireless, emotionally brutalized, progressive activists who desperately tried to bridge solidarity while working within the awful, unstoppable fact that harm reduction is all we can do now.

[anawkwardlady]

(Spoilers ahead!) I really love the way Beatrice relationship with the Seven Sisters mirrors Natsuhi's relationship with the servants in distorted ways. Beato despise Natsuhi for the incident and also keeps memories of her being strict and cold against Sayo.

Beatrice represents the cruel matriarch in a grotesque way : her furniture is entirely devoted to her, they're pretty literally objectified due to their role, they're all eager to please, she humiliates those who are not able to fulfill their purposes (ie : Lucifer losing to Kanon) and she lets them bully each other as some kind of entertainment. It looks like a child's play pretend version of what Natsuhi is supposed to be.

It think it more or less happened to everyone to have a painful experience of a (for exemple) teacher being mean, yelling or being strict to everyone in a way that left a mark and influenced their representation of teachers. When I was a child, I used to play teacher with my dolls and plushies by being the cruelest, screaming at them, belittling them and so on. Teachers could be scary and basically became the witches of my fairtytales. And it feels good to be the witch when you don't want to be the scared one this time.

Sayo had traumatizing experiences of being a servant and having a master during her formative years (child labor, hello...). She was too small to do most of tasks and was seen by her colleagues as a liability, therefore was completely powerless and learned mistakes were not an option. It also gave the idea of other servants inherently distrusting each other and being shaped by their flaws to the point of becoming an embodiment of it.

On top of that Natsuhi was a menacing presence that had to be worked around. One that gives punitions, withholds food, sneaks around to check for mistakes and poisons the servants relationships to each other. She is not even a person, she is a figure, an embodiment of oppression.

And while it certainly represents a real events it speaks even more of Sayo's emotional experience, sensationalizing it like any child living unpleasant to traumatizing events would. Was Natsuhi being overly strict? Well yes. But once we have other perspectives on this it comes to mind that Natsuhi was probably not actively trying to be a mean witch but... doing her job with her good and bad moments. We even have insights that she was taking time to have the servants go along with each other.

Even the servants themselves were probably regular teen girls unaware their constant picking and bullying would have such a lasting effect on that child.

But at the end it really doesn't change anything. It was Sayo's truth and becoming Beatrice as the second Master of house was certainly influenced by those experiences and also served as a way to process them. This is a child fantasy perspective of being Madam. Beatrice is superior to Natsuhi, she lived a thousand years, rules the house with a hand of steel at night and those who disrespect her will be injured or killed. In her world she possesses her own servants, actual furniture who's only purpose is to serve her. They carry the murders for her and happily so. They fight for her entertainment. They're cruel, cold, constantly bickering, fighting for attention and so on. Beatrice cannot be oppressed, Beatrice will crush you.

[abba-dabba]

I didn't have time for any art stuff so I'm posting a rant about how much I love the female characters in Fullmetal Alchemist instead

all the female characters in this show are Top Tier™ and I will not put up with that "they're bad because they're taking on masculine traits" bullshit because it's a stupid argument.

Trisha Elric? emotionally intelligent, loyal to her family, clearly the glue holding her family together, validates her hubby's feelings but doesn't let him wallow in his misery and makes sure he's as involved as he can be

Izumi Curtis? sees two wet orphans and pretends that she totally doesn't want to scoop them up and sign the adoption papers, was an awesome mentor to her kids but didn't hold them back, rescues her dumb kids even if it puts her in danger because they had to learn that somewhere ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Riza Hawkeye? joins the army and gets one of the most difficult positions available on her own merits, willingly mutilating her own body to make sure her father's research couldn't be replicated to hurt others, protective of everyone in her makeshift family and will not tolerate any bs even if it's coming from a superior, very good at picking things apart but won't always reveal her hand

Winry Rockbell? a literal medical genius who could get a med degree and make tons but chooses to hone other skills to get better at personal hobby, willing to trust her loved ones to make their own decisions, grows in her own time and willing to learn from people who know better without being a doormat

Olivia Armstrong? has no prejudice about who she accepts in her ranks, doesn't put up with any kind of bigotry, very intimidating but clearly has a soft spot for her brother because she will not accept any slander of him and will stick her neck out to help him, will not be swayed to do terrible things even if it benefits her personal goals, definitely will insult loved ones but would destroy someone for doing the same

Lust The Voracious? she is femme fatale personified, she knows she is hot and will use it to her advantage, she is intelligent and cares for her looks but not to the point of narcissism, she takes on the REAL leadership role from the homunculus because otherwise nothing would ever get done because NOBODY HELPS ME IN THIS FUCKIN HOUSE, she's completely evil and has no redemption arc because sometimes it's just neat to have an unsympathetic villain with no tragedy to justify their actions

Sheska? had such a damn good memory, is literally the only reason the Elric bros were able to discover the gov. conspiracy, is a totally awkward and relatable bookworm who really tries her best to do good by others without wanting anything in return

Pinako Rockbell? a cool af grandma who welcomes her home to anyone, has the motto "do no harm, but take no shit", takes on raising a bunch of kids without any complaints and will guilt them with home visits just cause she misses them, will not leave anyone in the cold and does not hold grudges and would probably spoil tons of kids before sending them home

[scientia-rex]

"You're saying people can't change their lives"

I wrote this as a reply to a reblog of my original post but I don't want to deal with their inevitable pissy backlash--because it's not somebody who follows me, of course it's not, so they won't see this unless I tag them into it and frankly I don't want to deal with their shit. But I did want to express that they were wrong on the Internet.

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii so the idea that there is "nothing you can do to change your life" is not! not! not! what I said or what I'm saying! It's that changing your life to make yourself thinner is not inherently good; changing your life to make yourself healthier absolutely is. Thinner does not equal healthier. Thinner does not equal morally superior.

Eat more vegetables. Move around in ways that don't punish you. Don't do this because thinner is better, but because you want to be able to do things you enjoy and live the life you want to live.

And "you absolutely have the power and ability to lose weight if you want, and keep it off" is not supported by hard data. Go ahead! Dig into my claims, point out where you think I'm misinterpreting data, but find me the data that suggest we can--on a population level, not an exceptional individual level--do that. If the failure rate for a program like Weight Watchers is greater than 95%, that doesn't mean it's impossible for everyone to do, it means it's impossible for most people, and that chunk of the population who can't do it should not feel shame or like they're not good enough.

People really struggle with the idea that there are differential hard limitations to what people can do with their bodies. They look at me and they can see, right off the bat, that I am never going to be a professional basketball player. I just don't have the height. Never have, never will. But there is a sense that if something isn't that obvious and visible, it's not a real limitation. And there are other real limits to what I can do based on my body. I can lift, lift, lift weights all day long, but there's a limit to how much muscle I can put on. A big part of that is genetic. Some of it's hormonal. Some of it's epigenetic. Some of it's nutritional. There are interactions between all of those factors. And a good chunk of it is unknown factors--things we don't currently understand.

But when it comes to weight, suddenly people think there's no limits--there's no reason you can't lose that weight if you just: and it's always "if you just," as if this were simple, as if losing the weight were the point, not living a good life, a healthy life, an enjoyable life.

If you make those changes and lose weight, great! Good for you. But don't pretend the same changes will work for everyone, because they simply won't. A lot of us could eat better and move around more and still be "fat." And it wouldn't be any of your business, but you'd still feel compelled to have an opinion about it, wouldn't you? You'd see us on the street and think, God, look at that. Pity; contempt. Fear that you might one day look like this.

And you might, especially if you're a cisgender woman, because the hormonal shifts that come with menopause alter your metabolism. And that won't make you worth less than you were before. Except in the eyes of people who have a vested interest in keeping you hating yourself, dull, slow, starving, and paying money to the mega-corporations who profit off your self-hatred.