#at least not in a way that they actually let themselves feel. not in a way that hurt them more than hardened them

[etz-ashashiyot]

Thank you for these sources to back up my 2 a.m.-est rant about theology! 😅

To be a 100% fair to this person, I think at least part of what he was reacting to was this idea that there is no Christ Redeemer figure in Judaism — our Moshiach, from which the Christian messiah theology originally derives is vastly different in purpose and effect.

In Judaism, the Moshiach is redeems Am Yisrael (the Jewish people) in a similar sort of way that legal redemption worked in the ancient world, where one might redeem a loved one from slavery. Moshiach leads us back into Eretz Yisrael, redeeming us from the disgrace and oppression of the diaspora, and ushers in an era of peace, prosperity, and tranquility for all. Our Moshiach is a human political leader, albeit a divinely ordained and gifted one — nothing more, nothing less.

By contrast, Christianity envisions a messiah that is actually God incarnate, who redeems all of humanity from the slavery of sin. This takes the Jewish messiah concept and transforms it from being our unique narrative of the Jewish people, and turns it into a universalist concept that believers traditionally apply to all of humanity. As part of this, the redemption piece becomes not about an indigenous people finally returning to their homeland, but rather about the spiritual battle between good and evil in the soul of humanity writ large.

[There are.... legitimate criticisms to be made about that reconceptualization and how it has been used in practice, but that's a separate post. Regardless of how one feels about these origins, the reality before us is that there are over a billion Christians in the world who believe this. So we must see and address that reality for what it is.]

Given this new framing, the consequences for a failure of redemption from sin are dire, particularly in the context of a Christianity that holds by a fire and brimstone version of hell. To place the full burden of redemption on humanity's shoulders with those consequences for failure............ honestly? Yeah, that's pretty fucking bleak.

In that theological framework, the promise, then, of a loving God who provides a redeemer from sin by grace is one of the great promises and comforts of Christianity. Were Jews to be operating within that framework, to say that we believe we are required to redeem ourselves [from sin as well as reentering eretz Yisrael] through (presumably) works alone, it would be a lot of pressure - perhaps unsustainably so.

But we Jews aren't looking for a redemption from sin through Moshiach. Our redemption from chet, avon, and averah comes directly from Hashem when we do teshuva, both as individuals and as a nation. We do this all the time as part of a loving relationship with our Creator and as the other side of this brit, this Covenant.

So to be totally fair to him, I think we managed to talk past each other despite our best efforts. I hesitate to judge him harshly because he's a good man with a good heart, and I know he means well.

However, I do take issue with the ways in which he has swallowed some of this extremely modern American evangelical ideology, some of which is definitely part of a dispensationalist theological framework. There is a certain learned helplessness embedded in it that runs counter to an empowered Christianity that believes our good works matter, even if they are limited by our humanity and not themselves sufficient to merit salvation from hell in a technical theological sense. This idea that we should let it all burn or even egg on the destruction, because there is a new world waiting in the wings that is better.

No! There isn't!! And traditional Christianity, including the version I grew up with, all of our lives are a gift and creation is a treasure we are meant to steward.

Jews traditionally believe that all people carry a spark of the Divine; empowered and loving Christianity has an analogous concept that Christ dwells in every human being and so how we treat "the least of these" is how we treat the King of Kings.

And I just... think about that a lot.

This is truly a half-baked thought, but: something that kinda shocked me a bit when talking to a Catholic co-worker some years back (we frequently had mutually respectful interfaith conversations) was his reaction to my explanation of the Moshiach in Jewish theology. Namely, that Moshiach comes after we've proven ourselves worthy of it, and that ultimately tikkun olam, the repair of the world, is our responsibility.

He was horrified.

He thought that was so much pressure and "so fucking bleak" that there wasn't someone swooping in to save us from ourselves.

And I think about that a lot, and how Judaism is very much an empowered religion in that way and how disempowering that dim view of humanity is.

It also just surprised me because the Christianity I was raised in was also an empowered faith, in that I was taught growing up that we were the body of Christ in the world now, and it was our job to be his hands feeding the hungry, his feet marching for justice, and his voice teaching peace and compassion for all. And it's really sad to see how far this specific insidious theology has reached, that encourages Christians to sit back and watch the world burn or pour on the gasoline instead of clothing the naked, healing the sick, welcoming the outcast, stewarding creation, and fighting for a world in which the meek will inherit the earth, the lion will lay down with the lamb, and the swords will be beaten into ploughshares.

Anyway, I just want to offer up a moment of gratitude to the Christians who do center their faith in acts of love and who will actively work alongside people of other belief systems to make the world a better place for us all.

[allfearstofallto]

if you’re still doing the yandere alphabet, could you do E,L,P,T,X, and Y for childe? no worries if not, I love ur writing! <3

I've definitely been wanting to write more of these!! Thank you so much!!!

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: Yandere, obsession, mentions of stalking

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Childe is open. More open than you'd want him to be and more open than you're willing to hear. You tend to not care about his back story or his interests, but he'll tell you regardless and you're forced to listen.

But if you do listen, really listen, really take in what he says, maybe you'll be able to see how much information he omits. Stories he laughs off like they're funny, are traumatizing in nature. The things he says are horrifying, scary in a way that would change a person permanently. 

He assures you that no such thing has happened with a playful smile, but you see the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and quiver of his lip. He's truthful, but not completely honest.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Childe is one of the few yanderes who's approach will be different based on where his standing is with you.

Know him as that one guy you met on the streets of Liyue, the one who was rather charming, but also rather persistent about seeing you again and he'll court you proper. The whole nine yards. He'll be the ideal boyfriend, albeit with a few quirks that can be brushed off. Mostly his fierce, protective jealousy and strangely short temper. 

Know him as the fatui harbinger? He'll also be just that. It's even worse if you owe money to the northland bank, a debt that he insists that you pay back with your affection rather than money. He won't even attempt to hide his true nature. You already know who he is and what he's capable of. Rather, he'll try to force you to fall in love with the real him, by any means necessary.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 

Patient as a fighter, patient at heart. Childe isn't inherently cruel. At least to you he's not. He'll give you time, space, conversation, whatever he thinks you may need to make you more comfortable. But that isn't him being generous. His patience comes with the expectation that you'll eventually fall into the role expected of you.

Refuse or even worse, actively fight him after all the kindness he's given you and you won't see that tolerance anymore. Expectations are higher with harsher consequences if not done when he wants, exactly how he wants. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh, does he hate that crying face of yours. He can't stand to see you sad, let alone actually sobbing. Each year rolling down your cheek is like a stab to his heart, he can hardly bear the agony.

He's quick to console you when you cry, especially when he's the one who caused it. Although he can't help, but notice you tend to cry harder when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. Even though he hates your tears, he hates the disdain you have for him more. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Worship is a strong word. Childe loves you. Adores you. He does put you on a bit of a pedestal, believing you to be better than most people. But worship? Worship is a bit much.

Childe doesn't feel like he has to win you over. The depraved side of him believes he already owns you. Of course, you also own him as well, if you so desire. But because of that, his actions has him seeing you as almost an equal. Almost. There are still times where he loses himself in the desperation and desire to have you completely.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Like a fish needs water, like a man needs air, Childe yearns for you in a way that's animalistic in nature. Childe knows about you long before you know about him. 

“Snapping” is a term that can't entirely be used for him because of this. You can't really lose it if it was never really there. The second he saw you, the second he felt the way he did, the way you made his heart pound the same way it would if he were to be thrusts into the throes of a fierce battle, he's already plotting how he plans to take you.

[cyberhughes]

— 𝓣𝓸𝓸 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ quinn hughes

🌊 chapter: feeling scandalous

last chapter | next chapter

*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: quinn hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: swearing, luke and jack are flirty but it’s all platonic, suggestive content(nothing too spicy yet🌚)

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: hey guys omfg…i’m so sorry this took so long I’ve been so busy😭😭uni is stressing me out so bad beyond belief but we ball!! this chapter is so shit cause lowkey its a filler just to build up more tension before we start getting *actually* juicy. this was also lowkey not rlly proofread LMAO. ALSO ALSO ALSO… we are almost at 200 followers?? wtf?? i didn’t even realize i had hit 100 im sorry i love you all so much and i appreciate all the love and support you’ve given me <3 perhaps i will plan a little surprise for you all later 😛

series masterlist + character intros

“WAKEY WAKEY!” the curtains were ripped open by jack, causing luke and aurora to shield themselves under the covers from the abrupt sunlight.

“what the fuck! close it!” luke complained, snuggling himself further into the warmth of the bedsheets. meanwhile, jack tiptoed to the foot of their bed, before mischievously yanking their blankets of off them.

“up and at em, let’s not waste a good boat day!” he stood there proudly, hands on his hips with a shit eating grin plastered across his face, not caring that he had just ruined their chance of a peaceful morning.

“later.” luke groaned, moving to pull aurora close to him, seeking at least the warmth from her body. “oh my god get off of me, i’m up.” she wiggled herself out of his arms and he whined.

she pushed past jack, him snorting at her hair being messy as well as her shirt hanging off one shoulder. “good morning to you too sleeping beauty.” he laughed—a bit too hard—at his own joke, while she stuck her tongue out at him before continuing her way the the washroom to freshen up.

as she stood there brushing her teeth, she couldn’t help but think back to her interactions with quinn yesterday. he had told her she didn’t do anything wrong, but she knew something was off with him. she knew that everyone else felt the tension too, she just couldn’t figure out why it was there in the first place.

she didn’t want to let this sour her trip, she was here for her brother after all. she’d just have to find a way for quinn to warm up to her again.

she creeped back into her and luke’s shared room, suppressing a laugh when she found him fast asleep again.

from her suitcase, she grabbed a bathing suit—that she didn’t remember packing? she held up the pieces straight, trying to remember when she had bought it. she dug through her luggage some more, looking for the one she knew she packed but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. she sat back on her heels, puzzled.

then it clicked. she had remembered her best friend from california—kaylee—peeking through her suitcase a few days before they had left for their trip. she let out a groan, making a mental note to scold her friend later.

she examined the fabric once again and placed it against her body.

this wasn’t going to cover anything.

“wow, that’s tiny.” she heard luke mumble from the bed and her eyes widened, face going red.

“go back to sleep, idiot.”

“i look like a prostitute.” aurora said nodding with her lips pressed into a thin line as she rested her phone on the bathroom counter. she was currently on facetime with kaylee, the one who had put her in this situation.

“no, you look hot. you have to let quinn see that you got hot.” kaylee said with a fat grin on her face as she watched her bestfriend adjust and pull at the fabric of the bikini in a failed attempt to get some more coverage.

“it was so awkward yesterday kaylee.” aurora whined and grabbed her phone to position her face in frame. “he barely talked to me, and the one time he did, it felt like he would’ve rather been anywhere else.”

“then don’t let it be awkward the fuck? just, be flirty or something.” kaylee spoke nonchalantly.

“yeah no, i think he still sees me as a kid.”

“so then show him that you’re a hot woman now, i’m really struggling to see the problem here rory. just flash him your tits or something.” aurora’s cheeks went red at her friends words. “oh my god, stop it.” she mumbled as the girl on the other side of the phone cackled.

“i gotta go now, we’re going on the lake in a bit.” she took one last look in the mirror before throwing on her t-shirt and shorts. “okay bye rory. but seriously just flash a ti—“ aurora hung up before she could finish the sentence.

she couldn’t help but think that maybe kaylee was right, not about needing to flash her boobs, but about trying to make quinn see that she wasn’t a kid anymore. maybe it wasn’t the fact that she still had a crush on him, but rather that she felt the need to prove herself. although yes, she did still have a little big crush on him.

she felt slight twinge of guilt as she thought, it was her brother’s wedding weekend and here she was plotting on his best man. it was wrong.

but that’s what made it kind of exciting.

aurora stepped out onto the patio, breathing in the summer air and taking in the view of lake. the view was stunning, the backyard almost fully set up with decorations for the wedding. to put it shortly, it felt magical. in the distance, she saw everyone, asides from the parents who were out golfing, settling onto the boat.

“hurry up slowpoke!” luke cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling out. aurora rolled her eyes, adjusted the strap of her tote bag which was chronically falling down, and headed towards the boat.

“good morning.” she smiled as she passed quinn who was carrying a cooler of drinks. she paused her stride to notice the veins that popped out of his arms, and wow the way his hands looked as he gripped the handle and—

“morning, rory.” he said with a soft smile and she felt her stomach drop like she was on a rollercoaster, did he notice her checking him out?

“did you sleep okay last night?” he didn’t look up as he stepped into the boat, setting the cooler down and then offering his hand out to help her in.

she felt like she was having whiplash, he was acting normal now? she took his hand and stepped in, “yeah it was great. lukey’s a snorer though.” she laughed and he nodded. she had to hide a frown as he let go of her hand.

“are you shit talking me right now?” luke walked over with his arms crossed, looking down at aurora through his sunglasses. “yeah, we’re shit talking you severely, i hate you so much.” she gave a sarcastic smile and scooted past him to greet melissa.

luke scoffed, “pft, she loves me. couldn’t keep her hands off me last night.” he said jokingly as he rested his hands on the back of his head, not noticing how quinn didn’t laugh, only pressing his lips into an awkward smile.

“oh gross, luke.” ashton smacked the top of his head, luke pouting as he fixed his cap.

“that was you who couldn’t keep your hands off!” aurora protested as melissa giggled beside her. she rolled her eyes then turned to fully face her soon to be sister in law. “so, are you starting to get nervous or anything?” aurora questioned and she shrugged.

“i don’t think i’m really that nervous,” she began, flipping her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. “am i nervous that it could rain or i could trip and fall walking? yeah of course, but I’ve never once felt nervous about marrying your brother, i actually can’t wait.” she blushed and aurora could feel her heart melting, she admired their relationship so much. it was something about they way they spoke about each other, like it was always meant to be.

“alright guys, we ready to go?” quinn asked and everyone cheered, excited to spend the day in the sun before the chaos of the wedding began.

“COWABUNGA!” jack launched himself off the edge of the boat, earning complaints from the group as he splashed water everywhere.

“idiot…” aurora chuckled as she stared down at her clothes which were now soaked, it was to be expected, they were having a lake day afterall.

she whipped her head at the sound of stomping coming towards her and melissa, to which she found her brother getting a running start to jump in, luke following not far behind.

“wow so much for curling my hair.” melissa joked, stepping out of her sundress and heading over to the side, letting ashton help her down.

“come on you two!” ashton exclaimed from the water, waiting on aurora and quinn.

aurora bit her lip, here goes nothing. she first took off her shorts, throwing them on top her her tote, then peeled off her shirt, revealing the bikini kaylee had planted. it was honestly a really nice bikini, the lack of coverage was where the problem lied.

from behind her, quinn could be seen with his jaw clenched, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he took in the sight. to most, his expression could be mistaken for annoyance or anger, but that wasn’t quite what was happening here.

she looked back over her shoulder, offering quinn a small smile as her cheeks turned a soft pink, “coming, quinn?”

her smile faltered when she noticed his expression. shit- was he mad? maybe he was mad that she was practically naked, after all they weren’t the only group out on the lake. there were other families boating and swimming around.

she snapped out of her thoughts when she heard jack whistle, “damn, looking good rory!” he cackled, before ashton splashed him in the face. “i’m serious you guys, that’s my baby sister, stop being fucking creeps.” he scoffed.

aurora jumped in and lingered under the water, wanting to hide the way her cheeks burned in embarrassment, not from jack’s comment, but rather at the fact that she had upset quinn.

for the rest of the day, they had spent their time swimming around, wakeboarding, munching on the delicious charcuterie board melissa had prepared, and playing some card games. it had been the perfect way for the soon to be married couple to relax before becoming fully preoccupied with their wedding, not forgetting to express their gratitude to quinn every chance they got.

they were now headed back to the house, in time to meet their parents for a nice dinner. aurora had her head rested on luke’s shoulder as she was being lulled to sleep from the soft rocking of the boat, as well as being exhausted from the day’s activities.

after a rather silent but calm ride, they had made it back to the dock, their parents being seen lounging on the patio enjoying a few drinks.

the group had gathered their things and headed towards the house, not noticing the way aurora stalled to gather her things as she watched quinn bustle around.

“you ready to go?” he asked, expression blank as he stood on the dock, reaching his hand out. the sight reminiscent of the interaction they had shared that morning.

she nodded, placing her hand in his, and it seemed to fit perfectly. she stepped over but didn’t notice the small puddle of water on the step and her eyes went wide as she slipped into him, for the second time in the past two days.

she gulped as they stood chest to chest, her hands rested on his shoulders as his own resting on her arms to stabilize her. she didn’t pull away, instead looking up at him with her mouth slightly agape in shock. her heart thumped in her chest and she was sure he could feel it as she gazed into his eyes, being met with that unrecognizable look she had seen yesterday.

he stared into her eyes, also at a loss for words. his eyes flickered down at the contact between them, the way her chest had been pressed onto him for longer than it should have. abruptly he let go of her arms, letting her stand on her own.

“quinn, i’m sorry-“

“you’re good.” he mumbled before grabbing his things and practically booking it away and back to the house.

she ran her hands through her hair. great, not only did she embarrass him in front of everyone with her bikini, but now she had fallen onto him a second time.

way to seduce him, aurora.

the soft breeze blowing through bedroom curtains was all that could be heard throughout the night, before it was abruptly interrupted by knocking on wood. quinn’s eyes slowly peeled open when he heard the noise at his door. he peeked over at his phone that rested on his bedside table.

2:17 am.

the knocking continued and he sighed, getting up from the warmth of his bed and shuffling over to open the door. assuming it was one of his brothers, he immediately let out a sharp “what do you want?”

but to his surprise, it was aurora standing on the other side of his door.

“‘m sorry.” she whispered softly and he shook his head “no, i thought you were jack or luke. what’s up?” he gazed down at her and his eyebrows furrowed. why the hell she still wearing her bikini?

“couldn’t sleep.” she stepped into his room, closing the door behind her, leaning back on it as she look up at him with hooded eyes. his eyes widened as he stood frozen, watching her begin to creep toward him like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse.

“can you help me sleep, quinny?” she whispered, rising onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.

his breath hitched when he felt her lips graze against his ear. “need you to help me, quinny.”

he felt chills run down his spine, what the fuck was happening? this was so wrong. he should have told her to back off, he shouldn’t have let her get that close, but god the way her cold fingers felt as she grazed them back down his shoulders, down to his chest, stomach, the waistband of his shorts—

“WAKE UP, QUINTIN! WE HAVE A LOT TO DO!” ashton’s voice boomed on the other side of his door as he shot up, hairline slightly drenched with sweat, breathing heavy as he looked around his room. he ran a hand over his face and groaned before peeking down at the tent in his shorts.

no fucking way.

[malk1ns]

january 18 @ capitals, 4-1 loss

the streets let me know that geno and ovi appear to be on-again. they were chit-chatting between the whistles and getting quiiiiiite cozy. love that for them.

When Zhenya gets off the ice after the Sabres game, his phone already has two missed calls and five texts.

He sighs explosively, clearing the notifications and throwing his phone back onto the shelf in his stall before he starts stripping his gear off.

“What’s up?” OC asks, peering up at Zhenya from where he’s doubled over picking at his skate laces.

“Ovechkin,” Zhenya mutters darkly, glaring at his phone as he unbuckles his shoulder pads. It vibrates at him. Fuck.

Sid leans around from the other side of OC, eyes bright. “What’s Alex want?” There’s a burble of laughter under his voice, and after a game like that Zhenya can’t blame him. It’s not Sid’s fault that all the mirth in Zhenya’s soul got sucked out the minute he saw Алекса́ндр Миха́йлович Ове́чкин on his phone.

“Don’t know,” Zhenya huffs, sitting down heavily on the bench to get started on his skates. His legs feel heavy, and he’s already dreading the plane ride. “Probably wants dinner tomorrow, like, after game. Hope he picks somewhere good this time, last place was suck.”

That’s not fair. Sanya has never actually brought Zhenya to a bad restaurant in DC. But Zhenya’s not exactly inclined to feel charitable right now, not when Sanya is on an epic goalscoring tear and Zhenya…isn’t.

“Standing me up, G?” Kris calls from across the room, but he’s not being serious; they did their dinner in November. “Didn’t know Ovi was such a hot date.”

Zhenya makes loud fake gagging sounds until the guys chuckle and drop it.

Sid’s still watching him, though. Zhenya pretends he doesn’t notice.

—

By the time the plane touches down in DC, Zhenya’s stiff and sore, and he has to hobble down the steps to the shuttle. Sid is right behind him the whole way, and Zhenya can practically feel him about to say something, but every time he keeps his mouth shut.

This can’t go on much longer. They’re being too awkward, and the team is going to start noticing sooner rather than later. Kris for sure has, but he’s giving them space to sort themselves out; that won’t last forever, though.

Zhenya scowls at his phone for the shuttle trip through DC, stabbing too hard at his shattered touchscreen as he sends a request for a pre-game rubdown before the game tomorrow. He hisses when his finger slides over a break in the glass.

He needs to get a new phone. He needs to get back to Anna about where they’re taking Nikita on vacation together this summer. He needs to tell his agent which sponsorships he’s okaying for the off-season.

He needs to talk to Sid.

Instead, he opens up his WhatsApp conversation with Sanya.

It’s a bunch of expletives about the goalie goal, which are at least enough to make Zhenya smile as he scrolls. The last message, though, wipes the grin from his face.

we need to talk about the voicemail you left me next week. you’re coming to mine after the game tomorrow. don’t try to run to the hotel, i’ll find you

Zhenya sends a thumbs up and locks his phone, sinking into his chair and staring outside for the rest of the bus ride. When they get to the hotel, he grabs his key and hustles upstairs before Sid can waylay him.

It’s a good thing he’s bone-tired after a game and travel. He’s not sure he’d fall asleep otherwise.

—

Zhenya feels surprisingly sanguine as they troop off the ice. They lost, yes, but they didn’t completely fall apart; the score doesn’t reflect how they played. It’s something to build on, stuff to review and work on as they move forward.

Sully agrees, and he keeps his postgame chat short. Everyone’s exhausted after a back-to-back with travel, and the room is pretty subdued. They don’t fly out until mid-morning tomorrow, but it’s the brutal slog all the way to Los Angeles, and everyone is ready to get back to the hotel and sack out for as long as they can.

Except Zhenya.

Sanya doesn’t even give him a chance to escape; he’s waiting outside the visitor’s locker room when Zhenya exits, tapping at his phone and looking bored.

«I’m here as ordered,» Zhenya says, stopping in front of Sanya and kicking at his shin. Sanya immediately pockets his phone and beams up at him, grabbing his arm and towing him down the hallway as he chatters about the game.

Zhenya looks back and makes eye contact with Sid, who’s watching the two of them leave with a furrowed brow. Zhenya shrugs, then turns back forward so he doesn’t stumble over Sanya’s feet.

They get the small talk out of the way in the car. Sanya asks after Zhenya’s parents, who are minding his house back in Pittsburgh while they’re on this ultra-long road trip. Zhenya makes appropriately interested noises as Sanya talks about Nastya’s latest charity initiative back in Moscow.

«I had the team chef send me back with a double portion earlier today, I hope you don’t mind just reheating something,» Sanya says as they make their way into his house. «And don’t worry about the dogs, Carly picked them up earlier today.»

«Thanks,» Zhenya says, oddly touched. When he and Sanya are fighting, it’s easy to dwell on the worst parts of him—his temper, his ego, his questionable politics, the way he bulldozes through life assuming everyone will give him what he wants. When they’re friends, though, Zhenya’s reminded of the little ways that he’s careful with his friends, the details he remembers and the thought he puts into making sure the people in his life are alright.

Which, Zhenya supposes, is the reason he’s here.

He didn’t remember leaving Sanya a voicemail when he woke up hungover and miserable last week. It wasn’t until Sanya started texting him incessantly that the dreadful memory returned—too many shots after a night out with the team, no game the next day because of his wrist, and watching Sid do his painful, earnest best to act normal after what happened the weekend prior had sent him straight to the good liquor when he got home. And that, apparently, had led him to dialing Sanya and saying…well, Zhenya’s still not entirely sure what he said exactly, but it was enough that Sanya got the gist of what happened.

Zhenya shakes his head at a proffered beer and digs into the pasta Sanya sets in front of him. They’re quiet for a while as they shovel down their meals, but Zhenya knows what’s coming, and the admittedly delicious sauce tastes like ash in his mouth.

After they’re done, Sanya produces two Gatorades and directs them to the living room, settling Zhenya on the couch before handing him the blue one.

Zhenya takes a long drink and says nothing. He’s here under duress; Sanya can start.

«So,» Sanya says, leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretching his legs out, digging his toes into Zhenya’s thigh. Zhenya doesn’t even bother smacking him away. «You and Crosby finally did the deed and now you’re freaking out.»

Zhenya’s face immediately goes hot, and he sets the Gatorade bottle on the side table with a shaky hand. «No delicate lead-in?» he snarks, clasping his hands in his lap. 

Sanya tsks at him. «Stop trying to avoid the subject with jokes,» he scolds, poking Zhenya with his big toe to punctuate his point. «You’re very clever, yes, we all know Zhenya and his wit that he uses to deflect when he’s uncomfortable. You called me last week. I won’t make you listen to the voicemail because I’m nice, but I was really worried. You’re lucky I didn’t call your mother. What happened?»

Zhenya sighs, but the ball of stress in his chest unspools. Sanya isn’t angry at him, he’s concerned. He’s not going to report Zhenya to the SVR and get him banned from his motherland. He’s offering to listen.

For all they’ve been through, Sanya’s kept Zhenya’s secrets since they were teenagers, at least the ones that actually counted. Even when they hate each other, they’re family.

«I don’t even know what happened,» Zhenya starts slowly, rolling his shoulders back and sinking into the couch with a groan, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. It’s a shockingly comfortable piece of furniture; he could probably sleep here, even with his knees and his back. «Mama made vareniki, like, a thousand kilos of it, and Sid wanted to go over some power play tape anyway, so I brought some over so we could eat and talk…» Zhenya sighs. «It’s like trying to remember a dream. We were down in the basement watching, and it’s like…suddenly we were sitting really close. And I looked over, he was looking at me, and then…» Zhenya trails off, shivering a little as he remembers the way they leaned together as if magnetized. 

The whole evening really did feel like something out of a dream. It wasn’t until the next morning, when Zhenya woke up in Sid’s tangled sheets with come dried low on his belly and Sid’s warm breath against his neck.

He’d jumped out of the bed, shoved on his clothes, and tore out of there like he was being chased. They’ve barely spoken since.

«Who’s being weirder about it, you or him?» Sanya interrupts his reverie. «I’m assuming he’s trying to be normal and thus making it forced, and you’re avoiding every attempt.»

Zhenya can never say that Sanya Ovechkin doesn’t know him down to his bones. «That’s about right,» he admits, picking at a cuticle. «I know I can’t let it go on for much longer, the team will notice.»

«Fuck the team, Zheka,» Sanya says, and Zhenya rolls his eyes. «No, I’m serious. The two of you aren’t going to let this impact the team, Jesus, you’d never. But if you continue to be stupid you will let it fuck up the two of you.»

«I don’t know what to say,» Zhenya whispers. «It’s…you know how things have been, with Anya. We’re fine now, as friends, but…what if I’m not over her? What if I am, but Sid thinks it was a huge mistake? God, I don’t think I could bear him letting me down gently.» Zhenya’s pride can only take so much bruising, after all.

«Zhenyechka,» Sanya says gently, and suddenly he’s tucked against Zhenya’s side, wrapping his arm around Zhenya’s shoulders and drawing him close. «That man is head over heels for you. He has been for years. And you’ve felt the same, by the way—you both distracted yourself with pretty little things, but it’s been there the whole time. You really think after something like what happened, he’d treat you badly and let you down?»

Zhenya lets himself relax into Sanya’s strong grip.

Sanya’s right, is the thing. The way Sid had looked at him…Zhenya knows that look. He’s seen it on Oksana, on Anna. He sees it when his parents look at each other.

He’s seen it on Sid’s face for fifteen years. 

«What if I fuck up, then?» he says, resting his head on Sanya’s shoulder. «What if I’m the one that ruins us?»

«Well then, don’t,» Sanya says, as if it’s that simple.

Zhenya supposes that it probably is.

—

Sanya keeps Zhenya for a few more hours, coaxing him into trying some dreadful local beer he’s obsessed with and dragging Zhenya from room to room to show off his tacky new decorations that Zhenya immediately loves. Eventually, though, he drops Zhenya back at the hotel, beeping his horn twice as he tears off down the street.

Zhenya watches his tail lights fade, then heads inside.

His head is buzzing as the elevator slowly creaks up to the team’s floor, but not from the single beer he’d choked down. For the first time all evening, he looks at his phone.

There’s the usual shit that he swipes away, but there’s one text from Sid waiting for him.

let me know when you’re back safe

Before Zhenya can overthink it, he turns right out of the elevator instead of left, where his own room is.

He counts the doors until he gets to the room he knows Sid will be staying in. Pressing his ear against the door, he can faintly hear the television.

Taking a deep breath, Zhenya knocks.

[smile-files]

luke is often paired up with young women (emmy, janice/melina, aurora, flora, maya) and the different ways in which he interacts with them is so interesting...

one of the most striking things to me is that he forms the closest, friendliest bonds with those he worries the least about protecting, those he doesn't think need to be hidden away for safekeeping. emmy and maya are the prime examples of this, as there's no way for luke to deny their ability to hold their own: in turn, he becomes incredibly chummy with them, seeing them like his big sisters. to a less affectionate extent, luke attaches himself to aurora and janice/melina, as they are both strong in their own right, but are vulnerable enough that he feels they need his protection: he isn't going to exclude them for their safety, but still feels like he needs to be their guardian. of course, that leaves flora, whom he's all too eager to leave behind for the sake of keeping her safe... he sees her as sensitive and fragile, unable to protect herself, and thus they don't seem particularly close...

obviously, luke is closer to those he can interact with more, so anyone he deems too precious to join him and the professor on their dangerous adventures loses out on that closeness (interestingly, a fact which applies to the professor himself, creating the discrepancy between luke's relationship to him and flora's). at the same time, luke's eagerness to protect others is a way to deflect from his own desire for protection: if he thinks someone needs his protection, that faulty line of logic can be indulged, and thus he can proceed to feign bravery by protecting them and therefore not actually let his fear be alleviated. then, if he can't work out how to justify protecting someone - if he can't contest their ability to protect themselves - that logic is broken, and he is not only able to feel the fear he has, but potentially have it soothed, as perhaps now HE can be protected by this strong individual.

on account of sexism's omnipresence in the society he inhabits, luke sees women as typically weak, as people to protect, and thus he opts to do the "gentlemanly" thing of protecting them to seem braver and more adult to himself (given how these women are adults/adolescents themselves, placing himself in a position of authority over them would make him seem all the more mature to himself); he would just as well like to be the protector over emmy and maya, one can imagine, but he knows he isn't any stronger than they are, and thus his whole strange schema can collapse. in a way, he's able to act his age much more around folks such as them, as he can't find a way to act more adult than them... he's much happier when he isn't at the whims of his strange complex, perpetuating a sexist dynamic just to deny his own vulnerabilities...

[eriochromatic]

I love your Silco takes so I was wondering if you could share yours on Vander and the drowning incident because no matter what angle I look at, it doesn't make sense.

As far as I can tell from what we're shown, the riot was well under way before Silco threw that molotov, and it's confirmed that enforcers killed Felicia. Thing is, it's implicit that Felicia chose to participate in the riot because a.) Why else would she be there, and b.) She was down with Zaun being independent for HER KIDS. Also, anyone who participates in a riot, or even a peaceful protest, knows they're putting their life on the line. So while I understand reacting to loss with intense grief, it's not exactly a surprise? It's something you have to mentally prepare for when you take a stand against an oppressor?

But then, if you go the ideology route with Silco taking it too far and the riot was Silco's idea, that stunt on the bridge was most likely pre-planned, organized resistance. This means a sizable number in their community, including Felicia and Connol, supported it. Even if Vander had doubts, he went along with it. Otherwise, why does the show open with him beating an enforcer on the bridge? Vander had other options: he could have split the resistance group down the middle by sitting it out and/or trying to stop Silco, neither of which he did!

The letter highlights the loss of Felicia as Vander's triggering event, and Vander admits that there's blood on both their hands. To be honest, I kind of like this because it hints that Silco's violence was acceptable to Vander within the context of revolution, and he thought he could handle the sacrifices required. Ironically, when he couldn't handle it, HIS violence pushed Silco towards any-violence-necessary because you can't trust anyone ever anyway!

Anyway, I know this is the fault of flimsy writing in S2 and what feels like internal censorship with challenging political status quo during production, but two drowning attempts (which for Silco came out of nowhere), followed by expulsion from the Lanes (which he helped build), the guilt of Felicia's death, and the total loss of the friends and community he was fighting for ... I mean, at least Silco's villain era makes complete and total sense???

Ugh honestly I try not to think about the drowning incident or even make sense of it anymore because every time I do, it's just so obvious to me that the writers themselves had no idea what they're doing. Timelines are completely off, character motivations make no sense, so why is it up to me to untangle the mess they made?

I have a huge love hate relationship with season 2 because on one hand, I didn't expect as much Silco crumbs we got in the first place and I'm SO HAPPY we got to see him normally in episode 5 and thriving in episode 7. But the retcon… I was so pissed when Act 2 dropped because the whole bridge incident just stopped making sense like you said.

Then when Act 3 happened, it all clicked together, but not in the "ohhh the story makes sense now" way but in the "oh the writers needed to set up smth previously so this would work." and it completely took me out of it. Like. The writers wanted Vander and Silco to make up with each other. But they don't know how to do that. Let's add some underlying sentimentality between Vander and Silco and Vi's mom, then kill Vi off. That'll make them go back together (along with that STUPID LETTER Vander wrote). Sure that's a bandaid solution and on surface level it works, but I don't think the writers really thought we would think about Silco this much so the moment you peel back the layers nothing makes sense anymore. I think they could've crafted a way more interesting story if they ACTUALLY SAT DOWN AND TRIED to have Silco and Vander reconcile without using Felicia as a crutch, but season 2 has an overarching problem of "lets have all the important things happen offscreen and only imply that they happened" which is just… so lazy…. so I'm not surprised that this happened.

It just weakens so, so many parts of the story and raises way more questions than answer them. Why does Silco pull away and distance himself from Felicia's family? Surely Vi should know him from before? Does Silco only take in Powder because he knew she was Felicia's daughter? Why, WHY does Vander go like "there are worse things than enforcers out there" (implying Silco) in s1 while talking to Benzo????????? when he's apparently felt guilty this whole time ??????? what happened to "I've looked everywhere????" etc etc idk man. from s1 I always thought the bridge incident happened way, way earlier from Felicia dying bc Vi looked like she was about 7 years old during the bridge and around 14 during act one, but then if you see Silco during the s2 warwick flashback he looks like he's 25. maybe 30 at the maximum. aint no way he aged that much in 7 years, in act one he and Vander both feel like they're in their mid 40s idk.

This is lowkey why I kind of only want to draw young Silco.. I love old man yaoi but like. If everything I draw is just flashback version of him, I don't need to worry about logistics of the bridge thing bc it hasn't happened yet lmfao. Or the AU version where everything is solved and no one rlly thinks about that time anymore.

Honestly I've tried to write this response several times trying to spell out my version of the timeline but just. nothing makes any fucking sense. I don't like thinking about how badly the writers fucked up on this part. Silco magically gets an eye injury caused by Vander and they had yaoi divorce but it's fine now. That's just how it is for me and if I think about it even a little more in depth my head will explode and I have better things to do with my time like draw zaundads yaoi

[transformers-spike]

Do you ever think one of the decepticons or autobots every harmed themselves? And how would it work??

Idk

I'm project

☣️ anon

Oh boy - I've spent quite a bit of time thinking about this.

I feel as though self-harm comes in a wide variety of ways. Here, I'll focus on TFP for this.

Optimus doesn't harm himself directly, but it's clear he's extremely willing to sacrifice his life for the good of others - ie: come on just take a look at the season 1 finale. He's got a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, and while I believe the presence of the Primes inside the Matrix of Leadership may help him cope, he could be feeling a lot better.

Arcee obviously has a similar problem. Look at her obsession with taking down Airachnid. Losing two partners has crushed her, and while she's still going, she's very willing to risk herself if it comes to enacting revenge. Not to mention some clear signs of PTSD. While I have mixed feelings on associating human mental illnesses with bots (since I assume they have their own thing going on), she definitely has an equivalent.

Ratchet is constantly neglecting himself for the sake of his team. He doesn't refuel enough, he's overworked and he doesn't consider himself valuable enough despite being their backbone. Syn-En is just an example of a risk he's willing to take if it means helping his team. Let's not even address how he keeps blaming himself for things he couldn't fix (ie: Bumblebee's voicebox)

Wheeljack has lost so many of his fellow Wreckers he's willing to endanger himself on the regular. And he nearly died trying to avenge Bulkhead, so it's clear he was already steeling himself for his friend's possible death. Out of all of the bots, it's clear he's high up there when it comes to trauma.

Megatron is... out of his mind to say the least. He's incredibly contradictory as a person, and I believe a lot of it is influenced by his trauma as a miner then as a gladiator (especially risking his life in the Pits of Kaon). He's endangering himself on a regular basis (HE SHOVED DARK ENERGON IN HIS SPARK CHAMBER HE IS SO NOT OKAY) and I wouldn't be surprised if he got a kick from pain to a degree. Less in the masochism sense more in the "Bro, you are bleeding out, you need to go to a hospital asap" Starscream keeps going back to Megatron despite all the shit that happened to him, so I believe he's dependent to a degree (looking at you season 3) - and Megatron's constant belittling is doing wonders for his mental health Dreadwing is full of issues. @karinadele suggested he may have some kind of Avoidant personality disorder, which would make sense. He is not coping well with his brother's death and he keeps pushing himself to his limits and ignoring the clear grief he's feeling. His eventual death is to a degree the result of his unwillingness to let others in. Yes, he has his issues with the Autobots - but he could have also separated himself from both factions instead of, you know, getting himself killed. Breakdown to me has a load of issues and is the closest to presenting actual acts of self-harm (although minor). He is dependent to a degree, keeps himself in the background unless Bulkhead is involved, and of course; he feels the need to prove himself to others (baby girl, you're dealing with self-worth issues). While I believe his partnership with Knock Out definitely grounds him, sometimes KO's bossiness and laissez-faire attitude gets to him. Come on, Breakdown's been mutilated by humans and lost an optic as a result. Plus, I'm pretty sure shutting down his "pain receptors" might have caused more damage in the long run. I can see him developing nervous ticks, like picking at wounds or even scraping/peeling off small pieces of mesh. It's a coping mechanism. A bad one yeah. But it helps. He keeps lying about it to KO but the medic's onto him. Sadly, he isn't great at comforting Breakdown. KO wants him to stop but it's difficult for him to be emotionally available.

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!

[getosugurusbangs]

what if i said i actually love too weird to live, too rare to die and think it’s underrated. what then.

[snekdood]

men are inherently traumatized under the patriarchy bc they're pressured or forced to conform to the standards of manhood, which to put very simply, is to never express of feel emotions, which makes them bad at socializing, thus rendering them eternally isolated.

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

[thecoolerbrother]

i think something moonage daydream was really good at doing was capturing a vibe

[quietwingsinthesky]

Not to be horny on main but spn should have had more hand holding

[curlicuecal]

playing science telephone

Hi folks. Let's play a fun game today called "unravelling bad science communication back to its source."

Journey with me.

Saw a comment going around on a tumblr thread that "sometimes the life expectancy of autism is cited in the 30s"

That number seemed..... strange. The commenter DID go on to say that that was "situational on people being awful and not… anything autism actually does", but you know what? Still a strange number. I feel compelled to fact check.

Quick Google "autism life expectancy" pulls up quite a few websites bandying around the number 39. Which is ~technically~ within the 30s, but already higher than the tumblr factoid would suggest. But, guess what. This number still sounds strange to me.

Most of the websites presenting this factoid present themselves as official autism resources and organizations (for parents, etc), and most of them vaguely wave towards "studies."

Ex: "Above And Beyond Therapy" has a whole article on "Does Autism Affect Life Expectancy" and states:

The link implies that it will take you to the "research studies" being referenced, but it in fact takes you to another random autism resource group called.... Songbird Care?

And on that website we find the factoid again:

Ooh, look. Now they've added the word "some". The average lifespan for SOME autistic people. Which the next group erased from the fact. The message shifts further.

And we have slightly more information about the study! (Which has also shifted from "studies" to a singular "study"). And we have another link!

Wonderfully, this link actually takes us to the actual peer-reviewed 2020 study being discussed. [x]

And here, just by reading the abstract, we find the most important information of all.

This study followed a cohort of adolescent and adult autistic people across a 20 year time period. Within that time period, 6.4% of the cohort died. Within that 6.4%, the average age of death was 39 years.

So this number is VERY MUCH not the average age of death for autistic people, or even the average age of death for the cohort of autistic people in that study. It is the average age of death IF you died young and within the 20 year period of the study (n=26), and also we don't even know the average starting age of participants without digging into earlier papers, except that it was 10 or older. (If you're curious, the researchers in the study suggested reduced self-sufficiency to be among the biggest risk factors for the early mortality group.)

But the number in the study has been removed from it's context, gradually modified and spread around the web, and modified some more, until it is pretty much a nonsense number that everyone is citing from everyone else.

There ARE two other numbers that pop up semi-frequently:

One cites the life expectancy at 58. I will leave finding the context for that number as an exercise for the audience, since none of the places I saw it gave a direct citation for where they were getting it.

And then, probably the best and most relevant number floating around out there (and the least frequently cited) draws from a 2023 study of over 17,000 UK people with an autism diagnosis, across 30 years. [x] This study estimated life expectancies between 70 and 77 years, varying with sex and presence/absence of a learning disability. (As compared to the UK 80-83 average for the population as a whole.)

This is a set of numbers that makes way more sense and is backed by way better data, but isn't quite as snappy a soundbite to pass around the internet. I'm gonna pass it around anyway, because I feel bad about how many scared internet people I stumbled across while doing this search.

People on quora like "I'm autistic, can I live past 38"-- honey, YES. omg.

---

tl;dr, when someone gives you a number out of context, consider that the context is probably important

also, make an amateur fact checker's life easier and CITE YOUR SOURCES

[raynewolferune]

Dead on Main Head Cannon

My favorite head cannon for this ship is that when they're feeling petty and pissed off at each other they'll send the other a purple hyacinth. It hits both of their dead, melodramatic souls perfectly. Flower language for purple hyacinth is "my regrets follow you to the grave" and that just vibes the same as "my condolences for your stupidity" to me at least.

Jason in a meeting as Red Hood with his gang. Flower shop worker guy comes in and says with the monotone of a dead-souled retail worker: "Delivery for Mr. Hood?"

Jason raises his hand with a sardonic head tilt.

Flower shop guy drops a small pot of purple hyacinth in front of him on the table and then reads off a small white card. "For leaving me to meet your dad by myself. Love, Danny." He puts the card back in his pocket. "Enjoy your flowers." He says in a way that makes Jason certain the man has no idea what the word enjoy actually means before shuffling out of the warehouse.

Hood's men all sit there silently for several long moments before one of them finally dares to speak.

"You made them meet the parents by themselves?"

Jason let's out a long heavy sigh.

"Anyone got a couch I can use tonight?"