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hitlikehammers · 3 days ago

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Rockstar!Eddie Leaves What He Had With Steve Behind in Hawkins 💔 to Chase His Dreams 🎸

(so why is it that he’s back in Steve’s bed Hawkins every couple months for ‘very pressing reasons’ that are straining Steve’s heart honestly anything but? 🫤❤️‍🩹🥺)

NOTE: this was originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo AGES ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because something for the @steddielovemonth is going to be posted soon that is a standalone in its universe, but also very much a sequel to it ♥️

Steve really does try not to think about it in terms of…time.

Maybe that’s foolish. It’s mostly denial. Lots of it isn’t reliable anyway: the score his body keeps isn’t accurate, war-time left over from too many near-misses with a fucking alternate dimension but the popping in his joints and the ringing in his ears and the white hair he pulled out of his scalp and stared blankly at in the sink for a good twenty minutes: those are real things, but they don’t chart the passage of days, of hours, months and fucking years with any real meaning.

It’s been four years. Roughly. Depending on what the start point is. Whether it’s that Spring Break. Whether it’s the first winter. Or the spring after, when Robin begged him to go with her—there’s still time. She still begs, because they still talk given the thread inside them stays tied unbreakable to one another, oblivious to miles between. Maybe it’s measuring from the graduations, the kids—only Erica’s left at Hawkins High, now, though Steve gets calls from the whole bunch of them, Eleven the most, which was maybe surprising, then it’s a good split between Dustin and Will, another surprise. Max calls enough but her calls are calls, with a weight most of the others lack. Lucas’s calls aren’t super frequent but always long, mostly because he talks around the point forever, whatever the point happens to be. Even Mike usually ends up on the other end of the line once a month. It’s…that could be where the time starts from.

Or it could be the summer, that first summer. The one that taught Steve what it was to have a heart just to fucking break it.

Could be that. Impossible to say.

(It’s been 3 years, 7 months, and 14 days. Steve had only counted in retrospect, in the wreckage left behind, because while he’d known there was a deadline in it, to it all, he’d thought he could be enough. That he could change a mind. He’d thought…

Foolish things. Bullshit. Didn’t matter. Could be any fucking date.)

But since the point's come up, and it’s front of Steve’s mind, his least favorite (most favorite) place to find it: he hadn’t expected it. Robin liked to say she saw the signs but. Steve hadn’t watched it happen in slow motion because there wasn’t a single goddamn slow thing about it. Which was…for whatever it was worth, Steve knew falling fast and hard and with everything he was had maybe failed him every time, thus far, but at least he knows that for him?

That means it’s real. He’s all in. He might not be met equal on the other side of the equation—hadn’t been yet, maybe wouldn’t be ever, but he wasn’t having any luck trying to fucking change that fact so, learning to work with what he had was the best he could do. And he had love. He’d never been able to name it to himself so far: not before, and certainly never since. But.

Figuring out the sexuality thing had been a not-bathroom-but-definitely-floor talk on the shitty Family Video carpet sometime around November of ‘85. Slow days, idle comments, and Robin’s suspiciously-but-reliably-gentle-when-the-need-was-dire hand to his shoulder to say no, no: actually wanting to kiss people of any gender wasn’t really…the default Steve had always expected it had to be. How could anyone look at, say, Harrison Ford and not think, oh yeah, I would at least suck his face?

Turned out probably at least half the people on the planet. As in the straight guys and the lesbians. Steve had spent the majority of three days on that disgusting fucking carpet, open to close, popping up to ask Robin if she was sure because what about��

She was sure. And eventually, through a couple of needs for deep breathing and a handful of assurances that it was okay to cry—he appreciated that, but he kept the crying to his room after these long-ass shifts and if Robin stayed for some of those times, that was because she was half his head, half his heart, and she knew what he was going to do sometimes before he did.

They did end up on the floor of his bathroom, a clean one for once, at one point. Maybe because they both held to tradition. Maybe because Steve had largely come to terms with the mindfuck of yet another piece of his world, his self unravelling and rewriting itself, and thought the vodka in his dad’s liquor cabinet was a good way to celebrate. The label was entirely in Russian and Robin had been practicing on hers, said she was pretty sure it was the good shit.

Sometimes you can drink enough of the best shit on an empty stomach, though, and still spew the whole of it up.

Steve sometimes does think he drinks his dad’s best liquor that way on purpose, though. Delightful going down and yeah, it sucks to chuck it up but. The idea that it’s ultimately wasted feels…right.

Anyway: Steve had settled with it all by New Year's, and while he’d hosted the rugrats who could only blabber about their latest campaign with their epic DM, and he’d kissed Robin when the clock turned, well. It felt like a new start, a fresh page.

Something that had the chance at being a good thing.

And nothing much happened in the two-and-a-half-months that followed save for finally catching a glimpse of the D&D god who ran their little club while he was idling in his car to pick up the shitheads, this legendary DM who did not make Steve jealous one tiny bit and who was cool and was edgy and was so fuckin’ cool, Steve, did we tell you got cool he is?! and Steve had said language as monotone as he could before he squinted as out came all the metal and the ink and he’d said your club president dude is Eddie goddamn Munson and he should have kept his mouth shut because the amount of talking that ensued left him with a headache the size of Montana; but.

That was really all that happened until about…mid-March.

Then Spring Break happened.

It could be argued Eddie and Steve grew close enough to pass the acquaintances benchmark, ended up as at least tentative friends on top of necessary battle mates as early as the Upside Down. Whatever reason Eddie gave, he jumped in after Steve. Whatever speech Steve landed on, he didn’t want Dustin orEddie hurt.

It could be argued Steve wasn’t paying attention and didn’t stop in time and landed in the land of Tentative Friends You Wouldn’t Mind Added Benefits With after the…at least after the way Eddie leaned in close and his lips we so red and he called Steve big boy and…

Yeah.

When Steve carries what may or may not be Eddie’s still fucking corpse out of the Upside Down—he can’t tell, every time he tries to check again his own heart's too loud, his own breaths too shaky—but by then, they’re family. Bound in blood. Steve would die for him, like the others. He won’t let him die, if he can fucking help it.

Between him and Max, Steve almost crashes, breaks. Steve’s there when Max’s fingers twitch and he laughs with tears in his eyes and hands over hands and tells her he loves her and he’s sorry and he’s there, tries to talk around the letter he opened and resealed without evidence because Steve knows some tricks too, okay, and her words had broken him but now he could live up to what she thought she was leaving behind, could make sure she had every goddamn thing she thought she was giving up in spades, to roll around in in abundance. He was going to take care of her, whatever she needed. Whatever it took.

Her lips had quirked and the doctors called coincidence, don’t get your hopes up but; Steve knew Max. That was all her.

And there were more tears, he let her fucking feel them; he fucking hoped she’d notice, and remember, and give him so much shit.

Eddie takes longer, pulls out of the woods enough to exhale a few days later, and the way Steve slips out to find the hospital chapel, the only goddamn place he won’t be found by anyone he knows, and bawls his goddamn eyes out?

It’s family, and it’s love because it’s family but…it’s been so quick. It’s been intense, and that probably speeds it along but…

Shit. Shit.

That’s when Steve knows he sets a new goddamn record for himself and falls hard and heavy and stupidin, like, a week and change. Jesus Christ.

It’s in the recovery that they build something though. Something that’s not trauma or terror or the threat of imminent death. Steve spends most of his hours between two hospital rooms listening to progress reports and taking notes and the kids gravitate toward Max—Dustin would have been the outlier but Steve knows he’s not ready, and so he gives his own updates just to his brother when he drives him home after visiting hours—but that means Steve’s Eddie’s most common conversation partner. They talk about bullshit. Steve defends a-ha to the last breath he has. Eddie’s rendered speechless for a second and then frantic when challenged to pick his favorite band. Again when it’s his favorite song, from his favorite band. And again when it’s his favorite song of any song, ever at all. Steve's heart swells in the watching. He’s foolish enough to bask in the glittering of Eddie’s eyes when Steve indulges in talking, scene by scene as guided by the master in the bed beside him, about what his opinions on Star Wars really were. And then guided by no one, just invited to share what his opinions are on the last movie he saw and loved: which was Weird Science, the last movie he watched in a theatre because he and Robin had gone to face their fear or some shit after Starcourt and it was easier than he’d expected. Eddie listens, and nods, and asks if they can rent it when he’s out, before making sure to add but you should really have a new choice like, eight months later, man, you work at a video store.

Steve was mostly just focused on Eddie more than implying, of his own volition, that he wanted to have a movie night.

Eddie’s released before Max, largely for mobility reasons, so they both go to visit her now. Robin’s put on the night shift when they schedule their movie night and Steve immediately moves to reschedule but she says no, she’s seen it, make Eddie suffer this time. So it’s just them.

They sit closer than they have to, on the couch.

And it’s little things that build from there. Max’s physical therapy is a government secret, like some fancy space-age protocol that has real hopes to put her on her feet again so she needs a ride, and while they could take turns, Steve and Eddie just take turns as to which vehicle they hop into to drive her. They stay when she needs them—not when she asks because she’s Max and she never asks—but it ends up three days a week back and forth and during: together.

And a lot of nights, for a movie or a smoke or a nightmare or a pulled stitch before they’re all taken out: together.

And shifts where Steve doesn’t even bother to bring his own lunch because Eddie Munson, unpredictable and wholly forgetful super-super senior—who Nancy and Hopper and most of all Joyce convinced the School would be finishing his final senior year at home save for tests, and only that once he was cleared by his doctors—that Eddie Munson brought Steve something every single time he worked. A burger, a chili dog, chicken fucking nuggets. A PB&J clearly homemade and cut diagonal.

So yeah. It starts out how it does when Steve’s in trouble. But it builds like…Steve’s never known before.

They kiss in May. Maybe so that it’s not their first, and a total cliche, when Steve kisses him for graduation behind the bleachers.

The sleep together after graduation, high on the thrill of it, and that’s maybe a cliche but Steve could not give a shit less.

And then they're EddieandSteve, only to find out they have been for a while; and this is just something a little deeper, a little bit more.

In ways that mean everything.

Looking back, Steve knows Eddie never minced words about his plan to leave Hawkins in the fall. With a mixtape and a prayer if I have to, Stevie-boy, he’d said once even, and Steve had laughed.

He’d fucking laughed.

So he’d known.

But July bleeds into August and Steve…Steve’s in love, okay, for real in a way that he’s never felt before. Right in a way he’s never felt before. He kinda just…overlooks it. Because Eddie seems to be at least on the same wavelength. Touches him first, reaches for him first: wants him. Looks at him with not just desire or attraction but…something no one’s ever looked at Steve with before.

And so he hopes. More than hopes.

But when Eddie starts packing, Steve can’t breathe.

He buys a set of luggage and goes home to start the same, has half of his not-excessive possessions shoved in when he realizes:

He’s not invited. Eddie’s never asked him to come.

Looking back, he’s afraid he wasted too much of those last weeks. Scared of giving too much away, the hurt from so many sides and the heartache that’s already taking root, but also: the way he clings, but tries not to make it obvious.

Fuck; but of course it was gonna be obvious, and how much energy did he waste, how many opportunities slipped by, because Steve was trying not to give away that Eddie leaving—to get away from a town that hated him, to try and make a real go with his music, to be anywhere without Steve so he could live out the dreams that predated Steve, that Steve had no place in—to try not to give away that all of it; it’d fucking destroy him.

Steve doesn’t know, to this day, how he stood and let Eddie kiss him breathless out the driver-side window, how he waved until Eddie was out of sight. He doesn’t know.

Kind of like he doesn’t know how he fucking keeps doing it.

Eddie throws tapes to every radio station with Van Halen or other top-played bands written on the insert in sharpie like that gives nothing away, and sneaks a demo in every underpaid delivery boy’s hands to record executives as he drives to the West Coast, sends Steve postcards what seems like has to be every goddamn day, filled up with his rambling until there’s no space left, has to draw lines around Steve’s address to make it clear where the damn thing’s going lest it get confused. Like they’re SteveandEddie still. Like only…only the things that changed after graduation are gone.

Steve sobs after about a month of it all, grateful and resentful, hateful and still so goddamn full of love it’s sickening. Literally, it makes him feel nauseous. He…

He keeps every postcard.

When one of them comes to say some idiot in San Francisco accidentally played Corroded Coffin on what’s apparently an important station, and Eddie got a letter in response from one of the labels, he says he’s coming back for the boys, they need to be ready. Steve knows he’s not one of the boys, but.

Eddie wouldn’t have told Steve he was coming if it wouldn’t matter to Steve. And maybe Eddie wasn’t in love with him anymore, maybe never was in love with him.

But he’d be lying if he said he thought Eddie didn’t love him. In a different way. A…you-don’t-get-to-come-with-me-but-I’d-still-want-to-see-you-when-I-stop-back kind of way.

And Steve…Steve’s not a fucking monk or anything. But even Robin doesn’t try to push him when he finally just tells her what he feels, lovesick and pathetic as it is:

I gave everything I had to someone else, and it’d be different if I wanted to back, to give again, but…I don’t.

I don’t want it back, not from him. Not if any part of him, wants to keep any part of it.

And because she’s Robin, she knows he means something else when he says ‘it’. And because she’s Robin? She’d push if she thought it was worth it.

She just holds him, and that’s really the best thing he could ask for.

But it becomes a thing. The boys go with Eddie, and they record new shit to impress...whoever. And they do. They come back for Halloween, because Eddie loves it. The label’s dragging its feet, but they’re not deterred, they’re energized. They come back for Thanksgiving because Wayne loves it—except he doesn’t, Steve knows that, Wayne actually hates trying to make a bird and Eddie had lamented more than once that they ended up with lunchmeat cut into cubes one year when Wayne was particularly frustrated with the process. They go out East, and try a few studios in New York. They come back for Christmas.

Eddie spends most of his time with Steve. Steve doesn’t fucking fight that; wants it…like…

There’s nothing to compare how he wants it to. Nothing exists that fits.

Eddie spends most of the time that he spends with Steve, though?

In Steve’s bed.

And here’s the thing: Steve had a decent amount of experience to compare to, but once they’d fallen into a rhythm, got past the awkward bits, the learning curve? Sex with Eddie had been a goddamn revelation. Not just because he was a man—after he’d left, Steve had forced himself to try, and dispelled that possibility quick as hell—and now?

Now, it’s like they never stopped. Every fucking time, it’s like they never stopped.

Steve’s not surprised in the slightest that he remembers every give and tell of Eddie’s body—of course he goddamn does—but that Eddie doesn’t miss a beat in touching, sucking, licking, worshippingSteve’s? That’s insane. That’s…

Unexpected. Every time it’s unexpected and every time Steve’s shown he wasn’t forgotten when he probably should have been. Eddie’s building a life that doesn’t include him.

He’ll only get in the way.

But Steve is selfish and stubborn and maybe it’s often, like almost strangely so, but it’s only a week or two at a go so he tells himself he’s allowed. He tells himself that it felt like making love in the beginning because Steve was in love, and that it still feels exactly the same because Steve…Steve never stopped.

Steve is still just as goddamn in love.

So yeah. Steve sleeps with Eddie and it’s like…it’s like rationed air. He gets a regular taste and he gets to keep breathing.

And it’s okay. Probably more then. Because he gets Eddie—even a little bit. Even just in scraps. When he has Eddie?

He has him, even for moments that were never made to last.

It’s Easter, this time. The band put out their first record in January. It’s doing really well. Eddie’s over the moon. Someone called about a magazine cover for a publication in Cleveland that’s apparently kind of a big deal, Alt..something. Steve will buy every copy in a fucking 100-mile radius. 200 miles. 500—

It’s Easter. Eddie didn’t lament not celebrating it after Spring Break in ‘86 but he’s back every year now. And if it’s just…come to mean something, or maybe did then and circumstances won out against it? Steve will be here. Steve will be comfort and a reprieve or a hot as hell romp with a familiar body, Steve will…

Yeah. Steve will do whatever’s needed. Wanted. Anything.

Pathetic.

But so much better than nothing.

Case in point: they’re both naked, sweat mostly dried, sharing a joint and it’s comfortable. It’s quiet and gentle and put up against sitting alone on a weeknight, not with Eddie?

It’s heaven.

“So when’s the dream happening?”

Steve looks cross-eyed toward his lips; he hasn’t smoked this thing long enough to have heard wrong. He squints up at Eddie, whose chest he’s laid out on, confused. Offers him the smoke but he waves it away.

“The dream?” Steve asks finally, when Eddie doesn’t seem to want to answer on his own.

Eddie looks at him weird. Not weird for its own sake but like: like he’s staring into him, and then like he’s disbelieving, but then also like he’s seeing him for the first time.

That kind of weird.

“Getting the fuck out of here,” Eddie answers like it’s obvious. “White picket fence. Little nuggets.” He spreads his hands as wide as possible without tossing Steve from where he lies. “See the sights.”

And Steve’s response is immediate. Doesn’t even require a thought.

He laughs. Like, ugly-laughs.

“Man,” he shakes his head as he catches his breath, and passes the joint off this time with purpose, not an offer or a choice as he snorts a little; “that’s not the dream.”

When Eddie doesn’t grab the smoke, Steve finally looks up. Eddie…

Eddie looks like what Steve’s always struggled to understand the word ‘poleaxed’ to mean. He thinks it might be this.

He looks…like something stuck him through the gut. Slapped him silly across the face.

“What d’ya mean?” And it’s just three words, one that’s a cheat, and he says it slow enough to take an age.

Steve breathes out, and then, if he’s gonna be honest, and if he has to keep holding the damn thing anyway, decides to take another drag before speaking:

“Figured out what the dream was, inside the dream,” Steve says, wondering if he’ll get away with the vagary; knowing he won’t.

“All we see or seem?” Eddie jokes a little, but it falls flat, his tone eerily kinda…strained but hollow.

“I like poetry.” Steve smiles up at him, soft, and offers the joint again straight to Eddie’s lips. He takes it this time.

“It was about family. It was about stability, not,” Steve shakes his head, stops talking half-assed around the lungful he’s holding, and lets it out slow; “not in a place, fuck, not in a house, but,” a person he doesn’t say, but he hears it in his head; “it was about sharing it.”

And that's it. That’s the simplest, most straightforward truth. Steve doesn’t think there’s anything complicated, or offensive in it. Hard to swallow. Even if he’s come to terms with it. Is mostly at peace with it.

Which is why it’s weird, that Eddie feels suddenly rigid beneath him.

So Steve turns, and braces his hand on Eddie's chest for balance, and frowns when he doesn’t even have to push down to feel the way his heart’s a fucking riot.

“What?” Steve asks, gentle; Eddie’s face is a portrait of conflict, of distress and Steve can’t fucking figure out why, they just came like four times between them and are sharing some very nice Cali weed—they’re nestled close, they’re together, it’s…

Eddie’s quiet, his breath disconcertingly steady for how his pulse pounds, and then he breathes out slow before covering his face:

“I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I already have, so,” he mutters, dejected for reasons Steve can’t even guess, then he laughs, humorless, shakes his head:

“Let me try, I guess.”

Steve frowns, uncomprehending, until:

“I’ve been in love with you forever.”

Steve thinks the world stops. His heart does, at least. Suspended. Silent so he doesn’t miss a syllable.

“And I told myself,” Eddie bites at his lip, worries at the bottom swell; “end of that summer, from the very first, I said: don’t ask him to come with you, even if it breaks your heart,” and oh god, oh god after all this time: Steve doesn’t think he’s projecting to hear the genuinely broken heart in those words for just remembering.

“Don’t ask him to settle, you’re not even in the same universe of what he wants,” fuck, what lies Eddie’s saying; did he believe them? Has he always—“what he needs.”

But Eddie is everything he needs, always was, will always be—

“You’ll never have the picket fence. You can’t give him his nuggets. You should never be trusted to park a Winnebago.”

They could have had a shitty studio apartment. They could have had the kids in college. They could have run the BMW until it died, or sold it to put toward a better van for equipment. They could have—

“You’re selfish, Munson, you’re a rat fucking bastard but,” Eddie’s still going, heart still hammering under Steve’s touch even as Eddie swallows hard and fails to smile, looks ill with the attempt like it hurts to try: “you love him too much for that.”

Oh. Oh god.

“It didn’t break my heart, though,” Eddie clears his throat and glances away, to the ceiling, eyes too bright: oh fuck; “broke my goddamn soul,” and a tear falls, and Steve can’t help but wipe it away, and kiss the track. Even just once.

So he does.

“When I saw you again that first time back,” Eddie starts again, voice rougher and shakier as he reaches a hand for Steve’s. “I could have asked the boys to fly out, the execs offered, but,” and this time, the attempt to grin is more successful, like a weight’s lifted from it: “and you smiled at me, it felt like,” and when he shakes his head this time it’s for disbelief, but the kind that comes with awe; “and when we slotted back together like we’d never been apart, it was…”

Eddie’s voice trails, but it cracks at the end—Steve doesn’t know which does more to stop his words.

He’s grateful, relieved, when they come back. He’s powerless but to give when Eddie touches his cheek so gentle and breathes:

“And I had to tell myself again, and again,” he murmurs, stroking Steve’s skin like he’s precious: “you love him too much to take his dream away from him.”

“What did it matter?” Steve can’t help but ask, no malice in it, just the need to understand. “You had your dream, you have—“

They have a contract. They have an album climbing the charts. They’re not just on their way—they’re there. The only next step is to get bigger, and bigger, and—

“Dreams within dreams, wasn’t it?” Eddie murmurs close to Steve’s cheek, where maybe he’s pressing to be close, or maybe he’s hiding a little, so Steve strokes his hair because he can either way and relishes how Eddie leans, melts into it like always. “Inside the dream?”

Steve nods, more to encourage more words. More Eddie.

“Break my dream open and there’s you with me, every step,” Eddie whispers, his lips warm on Steve’s skin. “Break my heart open, same damn thing,” and that causes Steve to shudder, and his heart to pick up now, too. “Both just kinda crumble if you take out the center.”

Steve can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Wants to. Doesn’t think they’re lies. It’s just, he…

“Those,” Steve tries to speak but his voice cracks; he clears his throat and kicks his lips while he tucks Eddie into his neck, under his chin: “those would be good lyrics.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head and nuzzles Steve’s throat with the motion and this can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening, can it?

“No, those words were only ever meant just for you.”

And Eddie kisses the pulse point close to his mouth and holds there, like a sentry and a miser, and holy shit.

Holy shit.

“And I don’t know,” Eddie’s saying more, but it’s pitchy, thready, like he’s barely holding the words together at all; “I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, or convenience, or routine,” his voice breaks again and the sob’s in the word when it comes even if it’s not streaming down on his cheeks: “pity,” and no, no, not fucking ever, how—

“I was never your dream then, and I don’t even know if I can be your inside-dream now, and,” Eddie’s rambling, and he does that when he’s desperate, when he’s overwhelmed and overfull with feeling—and Steve knows that. Steve knows that about him.

Steve��knows. Better than he knows himself, Steve still knows him.

“I just want the world for you,” Eddie whispers, stroking up and down Steve’s jaw; “my sweetheart. My sunshine,” he smiles so real and soft and Steve melts, like the heart in his chest starts spilling through his ribs, warm and liquid: “you deserve more than the world, more than fuckin’ me and I,” Eddie shakes his head again, more this time like he’s stopping himself, like it’s a defense mechanism and Steve reaches for his cheeks, broad palms on either side to hold him still because…he doesn’t want Eddie to stop.

Ever.

“Did I ruin it?” Eddie breathes, and barely at that, eyes so wide and swimming and oh, god; “did I—"

And Steve can’t help it. He can’t help but kiss him with all he’s got, even if it couldn’t be all Eddie’s worth in all the world. Steve can’t contain all that Eddie’s worth.

But he can give everything, because this is the man who already has it.

“What the hell was I supposed to be to a rockstar?” Steve tries to talk through his own tight throat, his own growing smile, his own threat of tears bubbling close to the surface. ��How the fuck was I ever going to measure up, ever do anything but hold you back when you could have—“

“I come back to you, for you,” Eddie answers immediate; it’s not what Steve’s asking but he won’t lie and say he didn’t want to know, at least a little. “The handful of times I’ve tried,” Eddie shakes his head once now, definitive; “I have always left my everything with you.”

The idea that Steve’s spent all this time feeling empty, and hollow, and missing the best of himself where it lived in the man he loved—the idea he was wrong, that they both were so fucking wrong is…insanity.

“I had a bag half packed.”

Steve doesn’t need to explain further. The noise Eddie makes is pure pain.

“Baby,” he nearly croons, falls into Steve somehow closer, wraps him up tighter; “I wanted to kidnap you in the night.”

“I sobbed in my bed after you were out of sight.”

“I pulled over before the town sign, because I couldn’t see the goddamn road.”

And Steve…Steve doesn’t really have a decision to make about what he says next. What dream he wants; always has.

“I never got rid of the luggage.”

And Eddie hears everything he says in those words, because after everything, Eddie Munson knows him, and…yeah.

Steve’s been kissed in a lot of ways before. By this man in particular, even.

But this: if leaving broke Eddie’s soul, if somehow the lack of Steve somehow did that?

This is…this is the body meeting another body, heart to heart and tasting the way a soul slides back in place. It's Eddie’s hands in his hair like hell never let go and he’s happy about the idea; blissful for it, even. It’s—beyond anything Steve’s ever known. So: yeah.

It’s not a decision. It’s just a fucking given.

♥️

🎸also on ao3

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #future fic #post s5 #angst with a happy ending #miscommunication #romance #tenderness #fluff #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington stays in hawkins #fuck buddy #but does it count if you’re exes and your still friends and you do it all the time?#like it can’t even be reunion sex because one party is always finding and excuse to come back #and it can’t even be make-up sex because they didn’t FIGHT they just…were DONE #chasing your dreams #(and recognizing when those dreams sometimes change)#yes eddie walked away from a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love #(he had his reasons I promise)#yes he makes detours to hawkins almost confusingly often for a successful musician 🤨#(YES he ends up in steve’s bed every time)#happy ending #stranger things #eddie munson bingo #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes

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nugatorysheep · 7 days ago

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What your favorite SU character says about you but it's just mean as fuck

Steven — How is being a mentally ill, people-pleasing queer going for you? Did your mommy issues and anxiety resolve themselves yet or are you still avoiding therapy?

You either disliked or were neutral about him until he got a neck. You think Future is peak cinema (correct) and can't understand why everyone else hates it. You have a better grasp on this show's characters and themes than most of the people who watched it.

Connie — You were likely the gifted kid in school but a total burn-out now. You either see a lot of yourself in this character (How are those helicopter parents of yours doing? Have you gone no-contact yet?) or you're a normie and boring to sandbox with. Probably both.

You've got a lot of Feelings™️about her and if people don't agree it causes Problems™️. In case no one has told you yet, stop caring what other people think. Your constant virtue signaling to appeal to other normies is a crutch that's just holding you back. It's okay to have fun!!

Stevonnie — You want to fuck this character, though you'd never say that out loud. You like Steven and Connie; maybe you like one more than the other, but you like both at least a little. If you're using them for shipping you're the only person in the entire fandom doing whatever hyper-specific ship you've latched onto.

Rose and or Pink — You really suck as a person! Or you used to suck but you've gotten a lot better and we stan! If you're the former you almost certainly have terrible takes on this show (but not in the way people might think), sorry, I don’t make the rules. Either way, you gotta stop finding ways to bring her back, dawg. She's gone.

Greg — You're a man (positive) and gay as hell. Gentleman on the streets and a fucking freak in the sheets. We stan. Pop off king <3

Garnet — If you headcanon her as acespec she is not actually your favorite, Ruby and Sapphire are your favorite, but you like them both equally so you just say you like Garnet. If you headcanon her as anything else you're definitely shipping her with one of the other gems, probably Pearl or Jasper.

Amethyst — Super chill person. Would be in most people's dream blunt rotation. You're a live and let live kinda guy and I respect that, but you also have no hills you'd die on so you're not the first person anyone goes to if they need serious support. You can get away with misinterpreting this character (on purpose or accidentally) because it's hard to say things about her that most people won't just shrug at and go "yeah that sounds right I guess"

Pearl — You're annoying as hell. You see yourself in this character and that's not a good thing. Your social media presence gives off the same energy as every white woman's Instagram profile. If being a victim was a contest you'd take home the gold.

You think everyone is out to get you. They're not.

You think you're being persecuted. You're not.

Most people who see you from a distance and don't know better think you're alright, so you're probably pretty well-liked in public. The only people you will get along with in close quarters are all walking mean lesbian stereotypes.

Peridot — You're annoying as hell for a different reason. You see yourself in this character too and that is a terrible, terrible thing.

She's your pfp on every website and app that will allow it. Your lifeblood is this fucking character and e v e r y o n e will know it. You're weirdly possessive of her and the hyper specific headcanons you made for her (even if you don't say that) despite every grass-fearing autistic person on the internet projecting onto her, so ironically you don't like other Peridot fans, which always ends up with you sitting alone even on websites with millions of people on them.

90% chance you're a furry, otherkin, therian or think you have DID. You think you're misunderstood, and in some ways you are, but the reality is most people don't speak dog and don't have the time or energy to learn. You need to go outside and learn to speak cat whether you want to or not

Lapis — You don't like Peridot fans or kinnies, which is weirdly in-character. You're the biggest hater but you don't hide it and I can respect that. You think Lapis is a victim, but you're only half right. You would probably fall for propaganda if it was dressed up fancy enough.

Jasper — You want to fuck this character, full stop. There's a 50/50 chance you're chill af or the most insufferable person on the planet. If you're the former you're friends with a lot of people. You float easily from one group to another, but a jack of all trades is a master of none, and you're no one's first pick if they're looking for someone close. You probably hate Lapis and her fans but you should really just let that shit go ngl

Spinel — You need therapy (derogatory) and you're making that everyone else's problem. Despite the clown aesthetic you're not very funny to be around and you should get a better sense of humor. You project onto this character way too hard and it shows in your fandom habits and headcanons, but most of the time that's fine

Like Spinel, you're a little two-faced. Some people pick up on that right away and some don't. The people who do hold you at arms length until you make it clear which clown you'd rather be. You hate it when people ship Spinel with any character besides your favorite pairing, but you'll never say that out loud unless it's a ship the people you're talking to don't like.

Blue Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or a minor who doesn't actually understand anything about this character yet, and would immediately fall for any and all forms of propaganda

Yellow Diamond — If you think she is wearing a helmet you're a man (derogatory) and you expected things out of SU that were never gonna happen. If you think it's just hair you have a much better grasp on this character than 90% percent of SU's fandom and I'm platonically kissing you on the mouth.

White Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or an incredibly based and sexy queer.

The Zircons — You like Ace Attorney, or would like it if you haven't played it yet. You're making them kiss sloppy style. UwU

Lars — You probably didn't like him until after he died. You will defend this boy with your fucking life. Also you should just…. go watch Star Trek if you haven't. Seriously what are you doing—

Sadie — You're an oddball. Very lax though. You have complicated feelings about Shep

Peedee — You're a little quirky, a little freaky, but you're too scared to just say that. You desperately need some fun in your life, but the people around you make that difficult. Eventually you'll find the folks that are worth hanging around. See you on the flip side :)

Ronaldo — You're the type of person this character is based on and you take it in stride. If you're shipping him with Lars, you're the only person who's opinion on this character matters.

Kevin — I dunno who hurt you but you have a terrible taste in men. You only have fun in bed if it involves a damn near human rights violation

Mayor Dewey — You're normalbirb

Any other townie — This is a trick question! No one has these as their favorite lmao

#hi this post is not serious #i am. putting myself and my friends on blast mostly LMAO #if u come in here talkin about 'oh no i like that townie' im stealing your left sock #steven universe #nugget rambles #text.txt #long post

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olderthannetfic · 3 months ago

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I'm forever intrigued by people who get mad any time Nick Fury is written as a bottom. They always say it's racist, then go dead silent when I say, "I'm black and gay. Is it racist for me to bottom? I have to top, no matter what I actually WANT to do? There's a racially mandated position for me?" They're always so confident prior. There's always capslock and accusations of fetishization and depending on the situation either calling someone a fujoshi or a gooner. Then I ask the very natural question. If it's bad for a black man to bottom, does that make me bad if I want to? And suddenly it gets quiet. Suddenly they're not confident in yelling at strangers online.

I'm fucking TIRED of every black guy having to be a top. Because that's what this boils down to. It's never about canon personalities or anything like that. You're black, you're getting written with a big black cock and you're topping. Period. It's boring. It's unengaging. It's vaguely dehumanizing. And I am no longer going to be nice about this. If I have to make people uncomfortable to get them to think about this, I WILL.

Some part of me wonders if these people actually mean well. They claim they do. They claim to be fighting black fetishization. But if we can only ever be one thing and fill one purpose, is that fighting anything? Or is that just "don't like a thing I don't like"? Because in the end they're asking people to write a whole race the same way. And that doesn't seem very woke or social justice-y to me.

But even if they DID mean well: if your idea of equality means a race can only do one thing, maybe you might wanna rethink that. Look up what equality means. Because this ain't it.

A thing I do with people I know in real life is, "would you be comfortable with someone saying this about your race?" I think people, especially alleged allies, need to do that here. Would you be comfortable with someone saying white people always top? Would that not feel a bit reductive to you?

I... what...? Both versions of this are stupid, for obvious reasons, but I'd have expected yelling about him exclusively topping, to be honest. I've seen the equivalent in quite a few fandoms.

Given fandom's penchant for having the character with more narrative focus and interiority bottom, I'd think, on average, it would be positive to see a black character bottoming. But, really, like you say, can we make black characters the unmarked default who can do whatever instead of Very Special Tokens?

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m1ssunderstanding · 1 year ago

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 20

I literally got second-hand anxiety hearing, “How many numbers do you think you’ll have by tomorrow?”. I was like. TOMORROW? They are Not ready. The only reason the rooftop works out is because they’re the fucking Beatles. No one else would pull that out of their butts so well.

If only John could’ve listened to Glyn about Klein. smh

Classic Paul. Starts out saying “us” ends up just talking about John. “The best bit of us always has been, and always will be, is when we’re backs against the wall and we’ve been rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. And he knows it’s a take on the dub. And he does it great.” It’s okay, Paul. We all know you like to get him up against a wall. No but seriously, Paul is not okay about John.

Takes every opportunity to flirt, doesn’t he?

“I can’t wait to work here, you know . . . I mean, here in our life, it’s like home.” It’s the gentleness, yeah. But it’s the focus, too. Most people (I know I would) would be so done with him and his anxiety spirals and his neuroses and over-thinking on and on and on by this point. John probably is, but he shows no sign of that fatigue at all. He is zeroed in on working him through this. He’s done it a million times before, and he’s ready to do it as many more times as Paul needs. Ugh, they make me into such a sap!

“Yeah, well that’s why I’m talking to John, not you.” If Paul can talk like that to George Martin, one of the most respected men in his life, when he’s in the middle of a thing with John, imagine how he must’ve bullied other people that tried to worm their way in.

That smile he gives George though! That’s how he got away with all his shit, isn’t it? So fucking cute.

“I agree with you, I think it’s disappointing, but all right, we only got to seven. Let’s do seven.” The tone of voice, man. So. Fucking. Gentle. No wonder Paul can't stand the projected "acerbic, tough Lennon" shit. If that was how someone treated you and took care of you? And then everyone acts like that part of them just didn't exist, and emphasizes the parts of them that they themselves hated and actively worked against? Yeah I'd be pretty pissed too.

Glyn reassuring Paul that there’s no reason they can’t come back and do a TV show later. Yeah, fifty years later.

John’s eyes constantly flicking back to Paul as George is talking . . .

George really does take so much better care of himself than the other three at this time. Pictured here, silently begging viewers like you to chip in just ninety-eight cents toward his freedom.

I actually think, though, that if Ringo had said he didn’t want to go on the roof either at that moment, that they wouldn’t have done it. I think they look to him for common sense in their decision-making, and Ringo saying he didn’t want to do it really might’ve broken the whole thing.

George’s reaction to Ringo voting for the roof VS John. It’s giving tragic heroine VS villain origin story

Honestly heartbroken at the “I love you, blue”. How many times did John just straight up say those words to Paul only for Paul to be completely unresponsive? That genuinely hurt to watch.

The tiny little looks they give each other. “Okay. We got this.”

“Fuck all that. I’m just gonna do me for a bit.” Good for you, baby.

“I had a good dream last night, you’re black or you’re white, you want equal rights.” I know some people say it’s hypocritical or preachy or whatever, but I ADORE this John. Look how fucking happy he’s making Billy right now and then talk to me about how John’s political side is meaningless. I think it’s beautiful.

I think it’s actually too embarrassing for them at this point to sing Two of Us without being insane.

“We’re all sleeping at Georgie’s tonight. Get in the mood.” Oh how I wish they actually had. I mean, maybe they did. Someone write the fic!

Oh, the “who knows, Yoko,” moment. It’s so embarrassing. The fact that there was just no response whatsoever. Yeesh.

So many nerves when I saw the camera zooming into that circled date with “Rooftop Concert” written on it. What is wrong with me?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back #only the rooftop concert left guys!#this was so fun thank you all so much for supporting my obsession and melodrama #all the comments in the tags that I don't respond to because they're tags I just want you to know I appreciated all of them #You all have made some excellent points #And I want to make a post of the tags after this I think #Thank you thank you everyone

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demonqueenart · 8 months ago

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im just gonna be so genuine and say i love you but i dont understand what racist remarks you're talking about and it's really frustrating for me to hear people talk about this like its so serious when i havent seen anything at all thats bad. im white so i think i may have genuinely missed things but could you please just give me some examples? i really am trying to understand where you guys are coming from its just getting hard because everyone is just getting mad at each other whenever they talk about it. i know people are mad bc of something dan said about not being able to come on tour to third world countries and possibly something he said in like 2011 when he was in his crazy fake tan phase? i just really am not seeing anything here that i think would get people so worked up and i would love to understand better

Hey anon, I understand where you coming from. And I really appreciate you trying to understand better.

To be really honest, why things have blown up now is because of the upcoming tour. It’s not really about why they couldn’t go to the other continents when they’re planning to do 32 shows in US, even though that’s also fishy af cause they could’ve easily dipped into Mexico, and the route they using feels like they’re avoiding latam specifically. The way that they handled this with poc fans is the problem, because while they’re being excited from the tour or whatever, they have not once tried to explain why they couldn’t go to poc fans (or the majority of us that is. Some of us might live somewhere else.)

The way they keep retweeting and being hyped about the tour, while basically intentionally avoiding talking to us is just.. it hurts. Most of us complain about this, and even more expressing how they just need dnp to give them an explanation. But never once did they do it. Instead, they even launch more trailer lol. And I know they saw it, there’s a lot of us and they like snooping on social media anyway. It makes us feel like we’re not part of the tour, that it wasn’t meant for us. And it was actually the first time I questioned if I was really a part of this community at all.

Turning back to phandom with that state of mind, it can feel like everyone is abandoning you. Because just like dnp, everyone is only talking about the tour, and not about how this exclusion needs to be addressed. It’s understandable why people would feel angry when they just keep being ignored like their voices didn’t matter. But I know now, just because people didn’t interact with me, doesn’t mean they didn’t want to be there for me. We just might come from a different place. (Btw, if you’re western and you have poc friends who’s affected by this, please reach out to them. The reason why I’m still here rn is because of all my friends, western friends included, saying they’ll be there for me throughout this racism thing. They might be angry and hurt, and even assume the worst of you. And I won’t ask more than you can do. But saying you understand (or at least empathize the situation they’re in) and that you will support them no matter what, will help them a lot.)

Dan clearly carry a micro aggression around latam, and the fact that this still occur in wad really says a lot about how they’ve not grown from that. When dan said brazil and mexico were 3rd world country on was, that makes us feel like he’s looking down on us. And the fact that they have avoided latam specifically without giving any reason why they couldn’t go, well, there’s only so many things you can assume is happening under the surface. This makes us feel like they’re looking down on us, and that they’ve never seen their poc fans as equals.

The reason why the old stuff was brought up is because this isn’t the first time this has happened. Dan has made a lot of racist remarks, and while it’s understandable to slip up from time to time, and even more understandable why he might be afraid to actually apologize and own things up, it doesn’t excuse the patterns that are being repeated here. When he doesn’t take accountability to his past mistakes and keep repeating the patterns of racism and exclusion, that indicates he’s going to keep oppressing us forever without ever acknowledging it. And THAT is not okay.

We don’t want to cancel them, never once do we want that. We only want dnp to hear us and actually talk to us about this. They are not beyond redemption, but it’s going to be hard for them to open up considering the past fifteen years of them not doing that. So the only thing we can do at this point is to be more opened up about their racist remarks. We’re bringing up past mistakes now, because there’re still a lot of people who have been affected by this, and them not bringing it up is not going to make all that hurt go away. So I suggest, we should bring it up, not to cancel them or demonize them! But to acknowledge it exists so that we can heal from it. We can learn to love dnp despite being flawed, and normalize how to take accountability to make this place safer for poc. These voices can’t be avoided because that’s also a form of exclusion in this community. I want everyone to feel welcomed here, so I’ll listen to their voices when they need it. That way, there will be a place for poc to belong in this space. We can learn to include each other in, or at least I hope so :3

*also, this will be very funny if this ask turns out to be dnp, but whatever lol xD Hope we can catch up someday whoever you are (✿˵ ꒡3꒡˵)৴♡*

#dan howell #phil lester #dan and phil #terrible influence tour #phan #phandom #my talk #ask #anon #convo

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alatismeni-theitsa · 9 months ago

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https://x.com/CorenLaVolpe/status/1787971755027612092

As much as a Greek enjoyed the Hades game having people literally taking for granted the designs of the gods as legit is problematic.

No Hermes isn't Asian coded. He's Greek like every God. Literally what does the word Greek next to Greek gods mean to them? An accessory? Give me a break

I got a few asks like this, so I will try to answer them here. This is the post the asks are referring to, and this is the post that started the whole discussion afaik:

This is a whole phenomenon that has lasted for decades in the US, first with USians presenting the gods as North Europeans and now as "everything but" North Europeans to combat the previous racist trend. However, they are still completely tone-deaf, self-absorbed, and privileged because while they do this "correction" they're ignoring actual Greeks, and Greek depictions (and depictions of Greek gods in various areas in the past). Westerners might not be aware of this, because they don't know how badly the Greeks have been treated by powerful countries in the past (including their US, thank you for the Junta and our recent fighters' deaths, honey) but the protests about the gods' design are anti-colonialist.

I want you to imagine this trend with whatever pantheon you want from Africa, Asia, South America etc. Imagine that for centuries they are presented as super White North Europeans by certain powerful nations. Now the same nation who did this racist shit in the past comes around and does more racist shit, by NOT presenting these ancient gods as their people view/viewed them but they present them as everything BUT the appearance they had in all their depictions by the locals. All the while NEVER listening to what the people of this culture tell them, all the while comparing the locals to these gods and finding them uglier and savage. Why would this be acceptable? And why are people so comfortable to forget their cultural sensitivities when it comes to Greece?

(I am aware the US racism also expanded to other pantheons but it didn't happen in this exact way so all I'm asking is to walk in our shoes for a bit, to experience a different flavour of colonialism)

This blog stands for absolute equality and it's heavily anti-racist and anti-fascist, with various resources and support links for minorities in Greece. Everyone is welcome here. This blog believes that if you are of Chinese, Pakistani, Nigerian, Roma descent in Greece you must have the same rights as everybody else and the way you look is not "lesser" than anybody else. I just ask people to consider - especially if you are an immigrant - how you, your parents, your grandparents would feel when seeing your important cultural figures treated like this by the US.

As you have understood by now, changing the depiction is not suddenly okay when the Greek gods now have the palest skin with blue eyes and blond hair. No, that's still racist, and Greeks have been repeatedly told that they are lesser for not looking like the beauty ideals these northern countries projected onto our gods.

Asking for accurate god depictions is a matter of wanting your culture to be treated like.... not a prop, for once. Everyone is free to interact and relate with the Greek culture but when you take the Greek culture and its depictions out of the equation, then the whole thing becomes "playing with dolls", and a fandom (as is the case already for the US).

The Greek gods have been used by Westerners in the past to promote White supremacy, and today they are used by Westerners to combat it; but it still happens in the most divorced sense from the Greek culture. USians are still sooo hesitant to REALLY look at another culture that they'd rather lose common sense (aka, depict gods as the locals see them for millennia) than not white-knight for their fellow Westerners. It's actually infuriating that progressives in the US still miss the mark when it comes to combating US neo-colonialism, and whatever elements left in their culture from colonizing European countries.

And how can we tell the Greek gods are used as props in this US political climate? Simple. They themselves will tell you "It's okay to depict those gods however you like because 1. They can transform 2. They have been worshipped by people of different appearances 3. Greeks can have more than one appearance 4. They are not real. " Then, you tell them "Then why don't you depict Chinese, Indian, Nigerian pantheons whoever you like today? These pantheons all have the above four conditions apply. (No. 4 depending on your beliefs)" And when you strip those first layers, they tell you the actual root cause: "But Chinese, Indian and Nigerian people are still oppressed. Plus, non-white people need to see themselves in media, so here is the chance!"

So, they admit that their only guide for how disrespectful they will be to one's heritage figures is actually the oppression status of that minority (just!) in the US. (Which shows they still don't give a shit about Greeks, cause otherwise they'd still know that Greeks still face bigotry in the US for how they look, how their names are, their customs) . To POC in the US: The moment your oppressors believe your oppression is gone, expect your pop culture to forget (again) all respect for your ancient gods and treat them like cool "new" products for their capitalist game.

And the above discussion paints the Greek culture and Greek figures as a culture-less empty slate, that can be made to represent every person in the whole world. It's US culture, even! But Greek culture is hideous actually, and the Greeks are racist brutes who get in our hair the whole time. Fuck the Greek people and their ancestors' depictions. Greek mythology is a product of no culture, actually, and we can treat the gods like self-inserts in our favorite fanfic. And this is totally not a colonialist mindset! Greeks are not robbed and genocided anymore, and we gave them "white" status in our country a few decades ago (but these ethnic hairy people are still not the same as us, obviously!), and the strings we pull to control Greece are not visible anymore to our own people, so we're good 😊

And, just to be clear: Greek gods are ethnically Greek, as every other [insert cultural descriptor] gods are from that certain culture. The Greek people consider themselves literal progeny of those gods. The first Greeks were born of the gods. Even today we call ourselves Hellenes because one of the first Greeks, the man Hellen, who was born of the gods. If the Greek gods don't express Greek cultural norms, and POVs, and ways of thinking about the world, and are not part of Greek history, what the hell are part of?? Cantonese culture? Do they represent Scandinavian ancient values perhaps....? Do they follow the philosophy of a First Nations tribe?? (This is more a matter of culture, not appearance since various people can be part of a culture. However, it needs to be said, because Westerners are willfully blind to common sense at this point.)

See this video from a Greek Canadian on Greek gods being ethnically Greek

To address one last thing: One person said "why didn't you say anything about how the gods were designed in the first game?" Well, I had made a post about it but some told me "noo they didn't change their race, they just have different colors like green, blue, pink, dark brown, and grey for an artistic touch". I was like "whatever, nobody knows, I have a life to live" so I deleted that post and didn't dwell too much on it. But the anti-colonialist message was the same as in this post, so that's another chance to highlight it.

#hades game #hades 2 #hades game 2 #answered #appearance

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hilacopter · 8 months ago

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You say ur a zionist depending on the definition but you believe jews are indigenous to the levant? That is the definition why don't you just call urself a zionist

see the thing is I genuinely think a lot of the whole zionism controversy mostly stems from a giant stupid misunderstanding and people not being properly informed. me telling someone I'm a zionist can either give them the right idea or the completely wrong idea.

let me paint a picture for you: a self-identified zionist and a self-identified anti-zionist walk into a bar. the zionist thinks the definition of zionism is wanting a Jewish state in the Levant, they want peace and a two-state solution. the anti-zionist thinks zionism is kahanism, they want peace and a two-state solution. "are you a zionist?" the anti-zionist asks, "yes" the zionist answers, and they immediately get into an argument. "anti-zionism is antisemitism!" the zionist shouts, "zionists are fascists!" the anti-zionist yells. of course this could all have blown over peacefully if they had asked eachother what zionism is, but why would they need to? what else could the word possibly mean?

I respect people on this site who identify as zionists, providing of course their meaning is wanting Jewish self-determination and not denying the right to Palestinian life and self-determination alongside us (remember I'm literally saying all this as an Israeli, if anyone wants Jewish self-determination in Israel it's me because my life quite literally depends on it). but I feel like they create a lot of unnecessary conflict for themselves by identifying as such and in most cases not explicitly stating what they mean by zionism. I know there's the desire to make dumb people understand the actual definition of the word, but with how much the misconceptions have already been set in stone I think it's a battle we cannot win.

there's more to all this though, buckle up for a pretty long post because I have a lot to say which I won't religate to the tags for once. first of all, I genuinely think a lot of anti-zionists, especially on the younger side (saying this as a minor myself), do not even have a solid definition of zionism in their head. they just see all of their peers shitting on it and follow along, making up whatever zionism means in their head along the way. since in leftist spaces it's not very acceptable to actually ask about the cause, why everyone is doing what they're doing. you have to take everything for granted, after all you wouldn't want to look uneducated by not knowing what zionism is! (this aspect of leftism 100% comes from cultural christianity btw)

there are also many anti-zionists who, at least to some extent, do know zionism means self-determination of Jews in the Levant and wanting Israel to exist. a lot of which think Israel is a white colonizer state, unaware of the history of the region, how more than there are ashkenazi Jews in Israel there are mizrachi Jews expelled from Arab nations, and are unaware of Jewish indigeneity to the Levant. how this land was originally Judea, only renamed Syria-Palaestina after being conquered from us and having most of us expelled. unfortunately the vast majority of pro-pal activists are very much simply jumping on the trendy train, not bothering to actually do their own research about the history of this insanely complex conflict and simply know everything by word of mouth from other equally uneducated leftists. I do think a lot of these people genuinely just don't know and aren't actively denying Jewish history on purpose, I've had like two cases happen where I told anti-zionists of this sort about Jewish indigeneity to the Levant and they just went "really? I had no idea". but of course for every person like that, there will be a person who will double down and dismiss it as propaganda, a myth and a fairytale. those people can go fuck themselves, clinging desperately to their half-assed worldview rather than willing to own up to being wrong and better themselves. denying Jewish history. or in a rare case of exceptional shittiness an anti-zionist can view zionism as wanting Jewish self-determination in the Levant and know that Jews are indigenous, yet still choose to identify as an anti-zionist by that definition for what can be a myriad of horrible reasons, usually complete tride and true antisemitism.

so in conclusion, I don't identify as a zionist outright until I know what kind of anti-zionist is asking me the question. is it an anti-zionist who just wants peace as much as I do, or is it an anti-zionist who wants me and my family dead? I've had people call me a zionist, non-zionist, anti-zionist and I don't really know what to expect each time. I feel like this approach leaves the most room for me to open good faith discussions with people and educate them on the subject as someone who actually knows xir shit, more than the average pro-pal at least, rather than having them immediately dismiss me as whatever definition of a zionist they have. not that good faith discussions are easy to have with people on tumblr dot com, and really online in general, but I'd rather have the option in the rare case of an actual open-minded individual who is willing to listen to Jews and better themself.

#this ask has been sitting in the askbox for a WHILE this took me a good bit to write #but i'm really glad i got to say all this i think it's very important #hope you enjoyed this like. fuckin essay jfc.#leftist antisemitism #jewish #jumblr #hila answers asks

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sabh0 · 8 months ago

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Is skk abusive? Other than the name calling and banter that I just don't take seriously, I've seen people say that Dazai is abusive since he planned for Chuuya to be tortured in stormbringer and didn't help because it would be boring, despite having the ability to do so. There's also the whole manipulating the sheep thing.

I've also seen people say that Chuuya is abusive because of how violent he is, how he punched Dazai to wake him up in Dead Apple and called him inhuman(? Ngl, I don't remember that part) and because Chuuya shot him more times than necessary in Meursault.

Personally, I struggle to see them as abusive r toxic, if only because of how much they trust and understand each other, and how they rile each other up for fun without letting it actually impact their relationship, but I may just be biased? What do you think?

Ok im just gonna say - dont take this post ad some 100% real wisdom or anything. It's just my personal opinion and it's definitely biased as well because of how much these two mean to me but yeah

I wouldn't call them abusive in relationship terms because all that banter and most of their fights are just, as u said it, unserious.

They're both fucked up a bit tho, so yeah there's definitely some toxic behaviours anyway.

Dazai manipulating Chuuya to join the sheep always made me real sad, but if you think about it more - Dazai knew The Sheep aren't any better for Chuuya. Plus if not like this, Mori would get Chuuya to join PM anyway in one way or another, since it was a plan from the beginning.

Dazai planned the whole 'helping Verlaine' thing to buy time so the PM forces could get ready to protect Mori and Chuuya later. That's mafia they're in - lives are not equal. Also Dazai wouldn't put Chuuya in danger he knew the other wouldn't be able to deal with. Either way, his whole yapping about wanting to see Chuuya being tortured is yet again that stupidly weird banter of theirs. After all, he's trying to find him and literally stop him from doing something he would regret. (Sab is trying to make some points but that still doesn't make whatever Dazai did something good. Just sayin. I just don't feel it's a black or white situation.)

I said it some time ago but lord, Chuuya is not abusive. Look, he knows when it's alright to fight Dazai and when he should stop himself not to hurt him. Even if they fight, he never does it seriously. Basement scene? He could've very well just punched Dazai without warning there. But instead he literally invited him to fight - and Dazai very much agreed to that sht with a smile on his lips. They're just very much not okay in the head on both sides. Later when Chuuya actually got angry, he himself threw his knife to the ground, which only shows he doesn't really have any intent of hurting Dazai seriously (In the manga. In the anime they changed it for whatever reason and he did strike him with the knife. But anime skk is just. Anime skk.).

That Dead Apple argument is so funny bc??? Chuuya was literally UNDER CORRUPTION AT THE TIME??? Corruption literally makes him lose control. He could kill a person with one touch. Instead??? Corruption Chuuya in dead apple somehow managed to hold himself back just enough not to actually hurt Dazai. Also, Dazai f knew he's gonna punch him anyway. I mean, bro kinda deserved it atp tbh /j

Cant really tell much about the shooting thing in Meursault - i stil have no f idea if these were even real, considering the fact Dazai is moving normally and there's no wounds/holes/blood visible on him or his clothes. These were probably just a play like the whole headshot thing?? (Tho dazai's scream and expression after that arm shot say otherwise),, really don't know, call it a better impression on Fyodor or Chuuya actually paying Dazai back for the other times

Ok so ,looks at all that sht i just wrote and tried to still excuse it somehow, I wouldn't call them abusive anyway just bc I've seen actual abusive relationships in real life and that's just uhh different in a way i cant really put my finger on,, there's some toxicity simply from the fact they're emotionally constipated and won't talk things thru like they should but,,, welp. Tbh i see most of their usual fighting as something unserious that both of em r okay with. Usually when they actually get into an argument about something it's because one actually got hurt by the other's words (for example that scene with Chuuya punching Dazai after he made jokes about Colonel's death). And they apologize without really apologizing, too (Dazai going to find Shibusawa and trying to take revenge on Colonel's death and later Chuuya going to rescue Dazai and saying to 'wait for him').

Unpopular opinion but i honestly feel that in the future they could very well form a normal, healthy relationship. They just really need to talk. Bickering and calling each other names for fun isn't imo really a form of abuse, when both sides know it's not meaning to hurt the other fr (if it was, then me and most of my friends would be fr abusing each other unfortunately) (and I don't feel abused even if we call each other names and say we hate each other, while watching cat reels together at the same time) (consider this some sibling-like stuff)

If nothing of whatever i just said makes sense, don't eat me please, it's just really hard for me to explain what i really think without being able to just talk for 5h straight while considering every ppint of view

#skk match each other's freak #and other ppl dont and that's why we keep having this conversation #sorry but you can't build a relationship with so much trust on abuse #LIKE AUGHH IDK IT'S NOT BLACK AND WHITE #there's so much to everything in their relationship it's really hard to answer 'yes or no' to this question #they're toxic but in a way that can easily be fixed #but i wouldn't say they're really abusive aughh idk #anyway i just googled 'is skk abusive' or smth to read some more opinions on the topic in case i missed smth #and immediately got a post sayjng #'yes skk is abusive. only dazai ship that is healthy is the one with odasaku'#and then i closed the page and thought to myself that maybe me being a bit biased isn't that bad #augh #sab q&a

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sadalmostlesbian · 11 months ago

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I’m still mad that we didn’t get to see Sejanus’s apartment in the TBOSAS movie. Partially because I want more scenes with his family and more Sejanus scenes overall, but also because I’ve seen too many fics saying that he either a. Lived in a mansion or b. Lived close to Coriolanus.

Obviously there’s no harm in this, and fics are for fun and also free so obviously do whatever you want. But I think it speaks to a larger issue I’ve seen of why people dislike Sejanus’s character. He is portrayed in the movie as more privileged than he actually is, which leads to people calling him whiny.

Coriolanus lived on the Corso. He’s very proud of his address because he lives in the most powerful neighborhood alongside the most powerful Capitol families. Sejanus does not live near the Corso, his parents only move there at the end of the book.

He lives in an apartment that is referred to as having an “unimpressive exterior” and a garish interior. That’s a metaphor for Sejanus’s family’s whole LIFE. Coriolanus says they are trying too hard to be Capitol, but it’s obvious that they will never fit in. Ma would always be district no matter her clothing “just as the grandma’am in a flour sack dress would still scream Corso.”

We never see where Sejanus lives in the movie. We are told that his father can buy him out of anything and we believe it because we aren’t shown that Coriolanus is delusional. He’s so jealous that he is blind to any discrimination Sejanus actually faces. And since we’re never shown it, we’re blind too.

If Sejanus lived in a mansion or on the Corso, it would mean he’s assimilated. He isn’t. He never will be because people in the Capitol will never accept District people as their equals, it would destroy the whole system they’ve created.

Sejanus isn’t whiny and he certainly isn’t a “white savior”. He’s district. He’s more privileged than the people still in Two, yeah. But he’s still District, he still faces the consequences of being from the Districts. His house was one of those consequences and we never get to see it in the movie and I mourn it’s loss every day.

#sejanus plinth #coriolanus snow #tbosas #thg

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hezzabeth · 1 year ago

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I know that a Miss Havisham costume in a playhouse should be more regency period… but that’s Whistleton’s theme. Anyway in todays part the gang head on off to Medieval Faire!

"If they had their way, they would have burned anyone with colorful hair, but that would mean losing most of their actors," Revati explained to Brigadeiro who had vaguely followed her into the cafes fridge.

“That would mean killing the entire population of my town” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“It’s not that I hate wearing dresses! Sometimes I love wearing dresses; I just hate being told what I have to wear by some stupid actors based on my reproductive organs,” Revati said to Bridgadeiro, who had vaguely followed her into the fridge.

“You would love the space station! Everyone wears whatever they want, in their assigned colors, of course,” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason why you’ve followed me in here? I need to get changed!” Revati informed him, and he had the decency to blush with embarrassment.

“Dreadfully sorry! I just wanted to let you know I’m done with the plant thing and wanted to ask if I could go home now,” Bridgadeiro asked.

“You can leave any time you like. I’m assuming you’ve figured out a way to stop yourself from freezing to death?” Revati asked as she pulled out a skirt.

“Ah, no, I had a special tent when I was rose collecting, but the chanting naked people stole it!” Bridgadeiro admitted.

Revati examined the skirt. It was one of Amma’s early creations, several burlap potato sacks that had been sewed together.

“Well, I'm not your mother; I’m sure you’ll figure things out eventually,” Revati admitted, and Bridgadeiro chuckled.

“Believe me, I know you’re not my mother; she would have called every single planetary embassy in the solar system!” Bridgadeiro replied as Revati wiggled the skirt off over her pants.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Bridgadeiro asked doubtfully as the skirt sagged around Revati’s legs in awful shades of mustard.

“It will do,” Revati grumbled.

Dityaa and Aurora were waiting for Revati under one of the new trees. Aurora was wearing a long shapeless tunic belted at the waist. Dityaa, however, had put on a dress made entirely out of yellowing white lace and satin. The sleeves were gigantic clouds bursting from her shoulders. The bodice was cut right across the front with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt had been artfully torn in several places revealing layers of fluffy tulle. The hemline had come undone, and it was dragging in the mud. But none of it really seemed to matter. The dress made her glow.

“Is that what you’re wearing? The ragbag skirt!” Dityaa asked, sounding horrified.

“Is that what you’re wearing? That’s the Miss Havisham's wedding dress from the Dickensian theater! They will take one look at you and know you’re from a different part of the park,” Revati pointed out, equally horrified. No one performed in the actual theater, but everyone read the scripts left abandoned inside.

“It’s pretty! I want to look my best,” sniffed Dityaa.

“The character who wore it went crazy on her wedding day and then died in a fire! She also lived in the 1860s,” Revati pointed out.

“It’s fine, I took all the plastic spiders off it,” Dityaa waved casually.

“You probably should wear something better; the actors in medieval faire will assume you’re a peasant. They’ll make you dig latrines,” Aurora said to Revati.

“The dress I wore last night is filthy! I don’t have time to wash anything else,” Revati snapped back irritably as she marched to the cart.

“You could just borrow something from my collection,” Dityaa said.

“You once told me if I ever borrowed from your collection you would shave my head in my sleep,” Revati replied.

“I was thirteen! A child! Anyway, I can’t have you digging toilets; imagine the embarrassment,” Dityaa said, and then her eyes widened briefly.

“He will need to put someone on as well; that jumpsuit will get his throat slit,” Dityaa said, and Revati glanced over her shoulder. Bridgadeiro was standing a couple of feet behind her.

“I thought I could ask the naked chanters for my tent back,” he said.

“Fine, but you’re digging your own grave,” Revati replied, and Bridgadeiro’s brow wrinkled with confusion.

“Grave?”

“You know, the hole a dead body goes in,” Aurora said helpfully.

“That’s horrifying! Back home we don’t do that, back home bodies are turned into diamonds and then launched into space,” Bridgadeiro said, and a faint smile crossed his face.

“The memorial rings floating around the space station really are dazzling.”

“Fine, let’s quickly change our clothes and head out before Amma gets back from her daily walk,” Revati snapped irritably.

Medieval faire loomed over Olde Landon. "Loomed" really was the only word to describe it. The park architects had deliberately placed it in the castle on a giant hill in the park's center. Its gigantic craggy walls cast shadows all the way to Shakespeare Lane. The giant copper dragon could be seen all the way in Whistletown. On windy days, you could smell smoke spiraling from its towers. The smoke was the only proof Revati had that the actors and tourists inside were still alive.

“So, how do we get in?” Revati asked as Bridgadeiro helped her push the cart.

“The back way is in Marzipan Martian’s confections,” Aurora said, and Revati shuddered.

“You don’t like lollies?” Bridgadeiro asked.

“I don’t like ants; Marzipan Martians is infested with them,” Revati replied, shuddering again.

“Oh, come on, ants aren’t that bad! The parks on the space station are full of them,” Bridgadeiro replied as Aurora approached the lolly shop.

“Have you ever seen a Martian ant? They’re the size of your fist!” Revati protested.

Revati remembered the lolly shop before the invasion. In the window, there was a sculpture of the lost princess made entirely out of chocolate. Jars of hard-boiled sweets and rainbow lollipops had been arranged in intricate patterns around her feet. Revati had bolted inside holding Dityaa’s hand. The air smelled of burnt sugar and cinnamon. Massive rainbow bins filled with wrapped lollies sat on groaning tables. Tourists bustled about snatching up boxes of “genuine Turkish delight”.

A lady in a uniform stood in the corner demonstrating how boiled sugar was turned into lemon sweets.

Dityaa was begging mother for a “real” chocolate princess. “And what do you want, Revati?” Her father asked her. Was that when the sirens hit? Was that when the appliances invaded? Or did it all happen when they were in the toy shop next door? The ants had long ago eaten the chocolate princess. They had also managed to knock over and break most of the jars.

“The ants are fine, just leave them alone and don’t try to steal their eggs,” Aurora assured them as she opened the shop door.

The inside of the shop was surprisingly clean and orderly. Broken jars had been swept into orderly piles. The wooden shelves and surfaces were dust-free.

Someone had turned all the abandoned mint-green gift boxes into a pyramid.

“Did you do this?” Revati asked curiously.

“No, the ants did. They’re surprisingly intelligent in a busy, orderly sort of way! I sleep back here,” Aurora said, walking behind the shop's blue and white checkout counter.

“Wait, you sleep in a shop filled with giant ants? I never knew that,” Revati confessed as Bridgadeiro tried to push the cart in while keeping the door open.

“I knew,” Dityaa sang, swinging herself over the counter.

“You never asked, and it had nothing to do with our professional working relationship,” Aurora replied with a small shrug.

Aurora slept on a bed made out of old sugar sacks with a pillow in the shape of a lollipop. There was an old shoebox next to the nest where an ant lay inside.

“That’s Queenie; she’s not dead! Just sleeping,” Aurora explained before knocking on the wall four times. The wall slid aside with a faint whoosh.

A teenage girl was standing on the other side. A girl dressed in a green velvet robe with incredibly long, messy gray hair. Her soft blue eyes fell on Aurora briefly with a small smile before noticing everyone else.

“Hark, my sweet, who be these folk and for what cause do they grace our presence?” She asked in a peculiar accent.

“What does hark and doth mean?” Bridgadeiro whispered.

“This is my boss, Mistress Revati, her sister, and some random boy,” Aurora explained, and the girl sniffed.

“Mistress Revati, this is my girlfriend Isabeau,” Aurora said with a small smile.

Isabeau slowly stepped into the room, her head held high, walking towards Dityaa.

“Pray, art thou the lady Revati? Thou appearest more tender than mine expectations did foretell! Verily, I find favor in thy gown,” she said to Dityaa.

“Thank you! I found it sitting in a pile of ash; I think the appliances vaporized the actress wearing it,” Dityaa giggled.

“I’m Mistress Revati,” Revati corrected Isabeau, who briefly glanced at her.

“Thou doth make sense, though dost bear semblance to a barbarous witch, a crone of eldritch mien," sniffed Isabeau.

“Isabeau! Please try to be nice to my boss,” Aurora flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, play nice or this eldritch witch will hack that wall down and flood your entire castle with giant ants,” Revati snapped back.

Isabeau merely turned away from Revati before turning to her girlfriend.

“I surmise thy lady doth desire something," she said.

“We need to melt this android in your blacksmith's forge,” Revati explained, and Bridgadeiro, who was holding the cart, waved.

Isabeau walked towards the cart, examining the android. Her gentle blank expression seemed to twitch slightly, like a rock being thrown into a still pool.

“If the Luddites espy this within the castle walls, verily, they shall take thy life," she said, holding up the android's hand, examining it.

“I’m sorry, did she just say someone will kill us?” Bridgadeiro asked nervously.

“They’re not going to see it! It’s not like we’re going to put it on display in the town center,” Revati pointed out.

“Conceal this abomination and follow me hence," Isabeau said, walking back to the gap in the wall.

The gap in the wall was actually the side of a small courtyard. Sitting on a wooden table were six beehives, vibrating gently in the chilly air.

“In hushed steps, proceed, for the bees in their winter slumber rest,” Isabeau whispered, walking past the hives to an arched tunnel.

#science fiction #nanowrimo2023 #nanowrimo #spilledink #spilled writing #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #futurism #writing science fiction #ya dystopia #ya scifi #scifi comedy #saying farewell to armageddon

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charlie-pippin-faraday · 4 months ago

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danganronpa v3 chapter 3 pre-investigation running commentary (writing down my thoughts live as i had them):

all that kaito and maki stuff i'd heard about prior to playing the game? i get it now, i've finally reached the bulk of the content. it's cute. the bright sunshiney guy dragging the murder girl around and making her be involved even when the rest of the group wants to shut her out - this is a recipe for ship success

i remember awhile back being like "is the vibe of this ship 'aw he's the first person that's ever been truly nice to her'?" and i was close. it seems like the vibe is more accurately "aw he's the first person to ever truly believe in her." that line of thinking is gonna go a long way in breaking down her mask that he CONSTANTLY talks about and getting her to trust him. yeah this is the good shit right here, i'm into it

i do wonder what these people are thinking watching me come into their labs and tear apart the entire room looking for money

the fourth floor music is so funky and strange, i love it

tenko flipping shuichi onto his back and then doing the EXACT same thing to himiko is the most i've respected her this entire game. finally, some equal rights. and her treating himiko semi-normally

sooo...miu and keebo were definitely having robot sex, right? do we all agree that that was robot sex that i witnessed? that was uhhh charged and dirty and i felt i shouldn't be listening. shuichi is definitely not beating the pervert hat allegations by fucking spying on them during that oml

maybe now that they're fucking this means miu and keebo will unionize together against kokichi's bullying. they could certainly use the help from teaming up. i feel like kokichi has been targeting those two specifically. (and also maki, but i don't think maki is worried about him lol)

i may be playing this game as shuichi, but i'm pretty sure kaito is actually the main character of this story lol, he's certainly acting like it

tsumugi calls herself "just plain" like WAY too much. i'm getting suspicious

god damn it when am i going to see MY ultimate lab? i want to see my moody detective lab!! where the fuck is it?? on the damn roof???

actually now that i think about it that's probably where kaito's lab is. btw there is nothing i want to see more than the astronaut lab, that's gotta be beautiful and trippy af. tbh i'm hoping it's just decked out in galaxy patterns

so as of this chapter there are 6 labs left to be uncovered: shuichi's, kaito's, keebo's, kokichi's, tsumugi's, and poor dead rantaro's (whatever rantaro's might be). kaito's has gotta be on the roof, and i'm pretty sure kokichi's is the mysterious black and white checkered door on the first floor that i can't open (matches his scarf). there's some empty space out in the courtyard so i think one of the remaining ones will appear out there. i think someone's might be hidden past that weird scroll on the fourth floor? and at least one of the remaining ones will be on the roof/top floor with kaito. guess i'll have to wait for a future chapter to see those

miu is already getting horny toward me in like her second free time event, and if i get her the bondage boots that are currently available at the casino i think that may be a one-way ticket to her fucking me

when i approached tenko during free time she was standing on one of the pillars in her dojo which was way funnier to me than it should've been

every time i talk to gonta but don't spend free time with him i feel so horribly guilty

what's going to stop me from just spending all of free time endlessly walking about the school gathering money?

answer: the 999 coin limit apparently

noooooooooooo my beloved keebo got brainwashed!!! keebo snap out of it!!! noooooo!!!!!!!!!!

i wanna know how angie does her brainwashing. she got tenko who hates her, and then she somehow managed to brainwash a robot which i'm very curious about

doing the "man's fantasy" scene immediately after the student council atua scene felt very clashing and jarring lol

shuichi is DEFINITELY not beating the pervert hat allegations after uhhh watching the girlies change in the locker room???? uhhhh dude wtf. if miu knew i'd done this AND walked in on her sexy time with keebo she'd never let me hear the end of it

i'm worried about kaito, he's been acting very strange ever since the formation of the "student council." since he's a very vocal leader, did angie, like, poison him to keep him out of her way???

maki will hang out with me now???? dude i was so shook i changed my free time plans. i usually hang with keebo but i didn't want to spend time him while he was brainwashed, so i hung with maki instead and gave her boba tea. emos need to stick together. side note: does kaito have a type? i'm pretty sure shuichi and maki were cut from the same cloth lol

does maki ring the doorbell incessantly exactly like kaito? lmao that's cute

i knew we weren't done with rantaro, there are too many unanswered questions about him

lmao nice reference to junko and mukuro. suspiciously meta

kokichi bringing up that rantaro might've been working with the mastermind and they let him get killed on purpose is a fascinating possibility

so we're killing angie, right? we're all in agreement that we're killing angie? she sucks, and that's the most efficient way to stop this brainwashing

this resurrection ritual is most definitely a trap. it's going to require sacrificing someone and/or backfire and lead to someone dying

i want the kaito monopad theme, because the purple theme is so aesthetically pleasing to me. but it costs so many casino dollars, which means i am going to sit here playing salmon fishing until i go insane. brb

we did it, gang. we made miu fall in love with me

i have been pursuing free time events with 3 people this playthrough: kaito, keebo, and miu. keebo and kaito have kind of been locked out for the latter part of the chapter bc keebo is brainwashed and kaito is mysteriously ill, so that led to me to fast-tracking my miu events, and i've got 5 fragments and her skill. additionally i've hit the bullseye gift-wise, i think i've given her top tier gifts every single time, so i like to believe she's extra in love with me

shuichi doesn't really seem to care all that much about miu's feelings for him, other than to remark "that's a bit over the top. but i'm glad we're bonding!" miu admitted her love and said we're going on a date when we get out of here, and shuichi was like "k cool whatevs." the feelings are not requited on shuichi's part lol. i guarantee you if this was kaito shuichi would be all 😍😍😍

why did she give me her underwear tho? i am uncomfy about this. miu is the only person it makes sense would give me her underwear. is this what everyone gives you at the end of getting all their fragments?? someone plz tell me if i'm on track for acquiring kaito's and keebo's underwear in the future

i was over here concerned that someone had poisoned kaito but it turns out he was so afraid of ghosts it made him sick to his stomach lmao kaito plz

aw kaito got cute nicknames for maki now?? yeah she's absolutely gonna fall in love with him and hate herself for it. he's definitely already got it bad for her but there's no way he's aware of it yet, he's just treating her like this on instinct lol

i knew tenko wasn't actually brainwashed! that hadn't made sense to me, she hated angie way too much to willingly go along with her plans like that

the second himiko said "i've been calling to her but she won't come to the door" i said to myself "oh she's dead in there"

bro is kokichi following me around? he popped up out of nowhere to unlock the door. i get the feeling he's a little obsessed with me, but he's also a little shit and i don't trust him

well, i say that, but he was actually among the people whose opinion i trusted the most once the student council started asserting their will. i tend to trust people who aren't brainwashed ya know

my reaction to learning that angie was dead:

can't say i'm that upset about it, she sucked tbh. now can we get to unbrainwashing the rest of the council? because i need my boys keebo and gonta back. and like tsumugi and himiko too i guess, but like whatever i sincerely do not care about either of them. but i need keebo returned to me i miss him and seeing him brainwashed is breaking my damn heart

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