#i guess i don't even deserve that decency

[dudeshusband]

what continues to slowly kill me is that I've done everything i can to try to date and i can't

[my-thirteenth-reason]

kicking my feet and giggling (<- just got apologised to)

[viulus]

Child abuse is so normalized in society that an adult outside of the situation saying anything is seen as just, "You're being rude, mind your business". THE PERSON WHO'S STEPPING IN TO SAY SOMETHING IS TREATED AS THE BAD GUY INSTEAD OF THE ABUSIVE PARENT. What is wrong with parents honestly.

[weecherylita]

Thoughts on the Neil Gaiman Allegations

I followed Neil Gaiman on tumblr not because I'm a massive fan of his work (I've read two of his books, and one of those he co-wrote with someone else) but because it was interesting to get behind-the-scenes info about Good Omens.

Because he seemed, for the most part, to be a pretty affable and interesting person.

Because it was nice to see someone so prominent be willing to assert the rights and dignity of lgbt people, and most especially trans people in this era where they are being consistently vilified and used as a political punching bag in my own country and elsewhere.

Because his writing advice was decent, and he seemed to value and support artistic endeavour in all its forms.

Because the stories from readers talking about what his work had meant to them were a consistent reminder of the power of art to connect us all and transform our lives.

Because he consistently advocated kindness.

(I know some people have been saying he couldn't handle criticism and he bad-mouthed other public figures, but I think I must have missed those incidents - my impression was that he was very often complimenting and defending people).

It was a horrible shock to learn that (yet again) a creator I respected fell so far short of embodying the values he spoke up for. When things like that happen it can make you question human decency itself, especially when it just seems to keep happening again and again; public figures who seem so progressive turn out to be abusers. Is human goodness just a story we tell ourselves? Is genuine progress even possible, when those who speak up for it prove themselves to be so incapable of living by those ideals?

I don't know how much of Gaiman's public persona was genuine and how much was just a front for some consciously manipulative and predatory behaviour. To be honest, I'm not sure I care if we ever find out how much of what we saw was real. He's lost our respect - most likely forever, and he shouldn't be put in a position where he can abuse people's trust again.

I'm sorry for the people he hurt, and I hope they get time to heal.

And I think those values that I saw in him are all still true, even if he is false.

Kindness and decency is still something to live by, even and especially in times of darkness.

Art still has the power to move, connect and transform us, whether you want to keep reading Gaiman's works or not (and if you're finding it tough because you've lost that enjoyment and connection to stories that meant a lot to you, know that there WILL be other works out there that can make you feel it again).

Creative endeavour IS still inherently valuable.

Transgender lives and identities still matter. Transgender people are still deserving of dignity and respect. There may be plenty of transphobic people out there who feel emboldened by this, and I'm not gonna pretend to understand exactly how scary and horrible that must feel. All I can say is that there are other people out there who still believe in you, and still want to support you.

Human decency is not a lie. I guess we need to be wary of public figures who come across as too good to be true and remember that everyone has capacity for both good and bad, but not everyone fails as badly as him. Not everyone succumbs to their worst instincts. Not everyone is an abuser. Human goodness is still alive, and something to strive toward and take comfort in.

[fuctacles]

<< 12 | 0 | 14 >>

There's thunderous knocking on the door and it startles Eddie out of his sleep.

He needs a moment to readjust, but Robin isn't the type to give anyone even a second, so his brain catches something about a nut before it's quiet again. He blinks at the white ceiling above him.

"What."

"She said she's gonna grab some bread and doughnuts from the bakery," Steve murmurs next to him so he turns his head, suddenly remembering that he's in his friend's bed, and it's the day of their little party. 

He immediately snatches his gaze back up. 

"Why the fuck are you naked?!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Steve rolls in the sheets to cover up some of his body. He doesn't sound very sorry. "Must have shifted in my sleep."

Eddie eyes him with curiosity. 

"You weren't naked last time."

"Huh?" 

Steve lays on his side to listen to him, and with his bare chest and tousled hair, he looks way too relaxed for the circumstances. It is his bed, duh, but he's looking at Eddie all naked and sleepy and it feels... not wrong per se, but it makes his stomach churn in a new way. 

"When you slept over at the trailer, you had clothes."

"Oh," Steve frowns, trying to remember that day. "I guess I changed to use the bathroom and didn't bother turning back."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. 

"So you draw the line of doghood at peeing outside?"

"Don't call it doghood," Steve scrunches his nose in distaste. "I couldn't open the front door with my paws anyway. Otherwise, I do pee in Dinkleberg's garden quite often," he admits. 

"No way," Eddie grins at the information. "Do you shit outside too?"

Steve makes a face. 

"I did once. It felt too weird not being able to wipe, but his face was worth it."

Eddie bursts out laughing.

"You're so gross, man!" he says, pushing at Steve's shoulders so he loses his balance and falls against the pillows.

"You asked!"

"What if we—" a snort interrupts him and he falls forward, pressing his temple against his friend to find his bearings. "We can install a pet door for you? Wait, no, you're kinda big for that. If I wrap some rope against the handle, could you open it? I have a neighbor who really deserves some urine in his slippers."

Steve groans, pushing Eddie away.

"Well, who's being gross now?"

"I'm still not the one who shits in my neighbor's yard!" Eddie protests, but Steve is already leaving the bed with an indignant huff, and his body is suddenly on full display. "Dude!" he squawks, shielding his gaze from his friend's naked butt.

"Oh come on, we have the same parts!" Steve turns to him, but his dick moves along, making Eddie disappear under the covers.

"It's not about the parts, It's about human decency!" 

"Well, I'm not fully human, so..." Steve points out, but it does sound like he's opening his wardrobe. "And I walk around naked all the time."

Eddie thinks about it for a second. 

"Well, yeah, but then you're not—"

He cuts himself off. 

But then you're not attractive. 

"I'm not what?"

In his scramble for a comprehensive answer, Eddie escapes the confines of bed covers, hoping he'll provide more oxygen for his brain this way. But with his terrible timing, he emerges at the perfect moment to catch Steve's naked, bent-over ass just before it gets covered by a pair of boxers. 

Lord have mercy. 

"Not human," he finishes lamely, all coherent thoughts suddenly gone. 

Steve scoffs, turning around with his dick finally out of sight. 

"Yeah, I'm not," he agrees easily, way too easily, before grabbing a pair of jean shorts. "You can take whatever you want to wear," he motions to the open closet, already walking towards the door. 

"And for the record, I didn't shit in Dinkleberg's yard, I did it on his doormat," he adds before leaving the room, leaving Eddie to stare at where he disappeared. 

====

Eddie's glad their mismatched group includes people who know the basics of barbequing and he doesn't have to get involved. There's also the card of "I helped with preparations so fuck off" that he can pull anytime anyone gives him the stink eye. This way, he can keep his distance and just observe. His scheming seems to be paying off and the seeds he planted in the little goblins and the dog-man himself, had taken root. 

Steve sits on the warmed ground while Robin's hand is in his hair, and El feeds him whatever she didn't like from her skewer. He's heard Dustin praise the burgers. Dustin. Everyone has been contributing to making Steve feel more appreciated, either with words, physical touch, or even small gestures, like Max bringing him an extra Coke from the cooler. 

So that was all great. But among his observing, Eddie notices some new things too. 

Like Steve's hairy chest. How his muscles move with each movement and how he absentmindedly rubs on his scars. The way the moles on his cheek jump when he smiles and his shorts fill out when he bends. 

Has it always been there?

Or more importantly, has Eddie always been interested in his friend?

He'd entertained the idea of fancying men ages ago but shoved it aside at the way easier, less problematic prospect of women, their tiny skirts, and the wild rocker chicks. So the gay thing isn't the scariest part, but rather the fact that he wasn't aware. 

Now he can't help but think that his whole 'helping a friend out' thing had ulterior motives behind it, conceived deep in his subconscience. Getting closer to Steve, spending time with him, touching him, oh god he's been touching him so much. He'd look at his hands in betrayal if he wasn't holding food. 

He takes a bite out of his hot dog but finds it cold and dry, which makes him wonder how long he's been people-watching instead of interacting with his friends like a normal human being. When he looks up again, he meets Steve's gaze and suddenly realizes he's making very unattractive open-mouthed movements with his jaw. Eddie clicks his mouth shut and forces himself to swallow, but thankfully, Steve seems to find it more amusing than disgusting. 

Not that it would matter if Steve found him unattractive and repulsive or anything. 

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

@bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phatomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets

@ravenfrog

[threepandas]

Eve: Part 2

Prev: <-

He had clothes for me. And It would not have been so unsettling, had they been less... precise. Less flattering. Fit less perfectly. But they DID. A sundress, in a flattering cut. A lovely color for my skin tone. The sort of thing a man who wore only variations of the same outfits? Day in and day out? Definitely researched.

At least I had fucking underwear now.

Even if I still couldn't move under my own power, farther then an inch or so.

He didn't even have the decency to dress me like a doll. Fondly but with some detachment. A bit of distance I could cling too. No, I was the paralyzed toddler, to be cradled and cooed over as he manhandled me. Praises as though I DONE anything. Kisses pressed to bio-gel wet hair and skin.

Weren't I SUCH a good girl? Letting him do as he pleases. Unable to stop him. Weak as the newborn I was. Fuck. The echoes of pain still howled along my near weeping nerve endings. Begging for rest. For the finest pain medication cocktails money can buy. Anything.

Instead I got this.

Clingy hands and the near bitter cold of a lab.

A lab coat was pulled onto me next. It didn't match my little dress up outfit. But? At least it was WARM. Thank god. Already, the goo was making my clothes stick to me. Sucking away my heat. Leaving my... my EVERYTHING feeling gross and sticky. I wanted a shower. Not to be dressed up.

But I had a feeling I wouldn't be getting what I wanted.

"There we are~ All nice and covered up. We'll get you cleaned up soon, sweetheart. Daddy promises." The madman who held me hummed. His face tucked against my gel filthy hair as his hand rubbed up and down my limp arm, as though trying to draw warmth to it. A mockery of caring. This was possession. "Now let's get out of here, hmm?"

Scooped up like a princess, I felt more like a toy too be carted around.

I was carried, for the first time, from the lab that had been all I'd known.

I wish he'd left me there. Forgotten I even existed. Instead, I got to see firsthand, EXACTLY what he had done. And... and I knew... KNEW that none of those dead around me were innocent. They all had hand in atrocities, either directly or by compliance. Inaction. But.... but did they deserve this? Indiscriminate execution?

He didn't even glance down, as he strolled through the carnage he had made.

Too the elevators, where he casually kicked the corpse blocking the door, out of the way, before steeping inside. We rode in near silence. Just me, him, and the corpses of three security gaurds and a scientist. He was humming. Soft but pleased, as though the day had turned out surprisingly well.

He had to rest me on a hood, when we reached the carpark. So he could dig out his keys. I was swept up again. Though not carried far. Fancy. Good to know being a morally bankrupt, weirdly clingy, DEEPLY fucking cracked, mad scientist pays well... I guess...

Placed down on another hood while he...

Are you kidding me?

With a near skip in his step, I watch as my "father" strolls to the trunk of his car. Pops it open. Pulls out a FUCKING KIT. An honest to God duffle bag. Several unopened plastic carseat covers. How... how LONG has he been PLANNING this?!

Numbly, I watch as he preps his front seat for me. Both protecting the upholstery while somehow making an honest to God nest of comfort for his little passenger princess. There are layers. The motions look practiced. I... I feel like I'm in a fever dream.

He does realize I'm technically a science experiment, right?

We are... for lack of a better plot device, absconding in the night? He's not PICKING ME UP FROM THE HOSPITAL. He's kidnapping me! Stealing me!! What the ACTUAL FUCK?!

I don't ask. Know BETTER then to ask. I remember that much. You don't argue with crazy. You smile, nod, and quietly get the FUCK out of there at the first possible chance. Placate don't escalate. If the madman wants to play "happy family"? Suuuuuure, "Daddy". Of COURSE.

That's EXACTLY what'll do...

You know, right up until I can fucking RUN again.

Then peace out, bitchcakes. You can take your nuttypuffs and SHOVE IT. I am sore, cold, and YOU are the one who kept pumping me full of drugs! They HURT. A LOT. I know for a FACT the world's probably gonna end. In that weirdly symbolic anime way, where there's giant hands and faces or whatever, so? Screw you!

Noooooot that I SAY that.

Because, again, we do not provoke the crazy man with a gun.

And a PLAN apparently. Dooooon't LIKE that he has "A Plan". In fact, would Prefer Not. But I'm not getting what I want today. I'm getting lifted and put, like a precious if sickly child, into the little car nest he's made for me and tucked in. Watching as he rounds the car to slide protectors over his own seat as well.

Well... at least he's self AWARE of all the blood.

He starts the car. Turns on the heater, a few taps of the console screen has music beginning to play and my seat leaning back. He leans over to grab my seat belt, as though this were all perfectly normal, pressing a soft kiss to my temple as he gets me situated.

There are straight jackets less containing.

I am trapped. Bundled by blankets, wrapped and pressed in on all sides, pillows and fancy little comforts I never wanted or asked for. All to then be strapped down by a seat belt I can't even REACH.

Great.

Just... Great.

He leaves the car running. Keys hanging, tormenting me really, in the ignition. If only I could FUCKING MOVE. I watch as he gets out. Walks back towards the elevator. He seems to think we apparently have all the time in the world. And really, according to time on the console? We kinda fucking DO.

It's barely mid-day.

Not... not even lunch.

Somehow that makes it worse. It shouldn't. I know it shouldn't. Death and massacre can happen at any time. But... the fact that he so cheerfully killed each and every one of his co-workers? Massacred everyone in the fucking building but me? In broad daylight? Makes it... worse.

It feels like the sort of horror that should only happen during dark, moonless, nights. Someplace dark. Where you expect the wickedness of man against man, the inhumanity of so called civilized people. Not... daylight. Beneath the cheerful rays under which children play and people fall in love, life bustles around. It should be for LIVING.

It's a bias.

A naive thought.

Foolish of me to hold...

And yet? I still had it. Still found myself shocked. Guess I can be glad? That my innocence has not been COMPLETELY lost to this place. That there is still good in me. I seem to still assume the best of people, foolish as that is. How very dangerous.

My "father" is back. Wheeling boxes and boxes of hard drives. Lock boxes of things unknown. First the trunk, then the back seat. The car is stuffed. Every secret this place ever held it seemed. He's talking them. His grin has teeth. Is giddy and MEAN.

Looting the corpses of his enemies agrees with him, it seems.

The last trip is for his briefcase. A small pile of file folders. He's nearly dancing. Does a little twirl as he passes the front of the car, a slide to reach the door. Humming a showtime I don't recognize.

"Ah~ I've waited for this moment for YEARS~! Ha Ha!" Teeth flash and catch the low light of the carpark's emergency lighting, his eyes practically glow with a manic schadenfreude. "Oh my sweet Eve, you have NO idea how much I've been looking forward to the day I get to steal you away~ BURN this cesspit to the ground. And best of all? Finally get my hands on all this research! Put it to actual USE for once! No more filthy Adams. No more trying to fix the worthless and damned! Just us. Just Eden."

Well THATS not fucking ominou-...

Wait.

WHAT.

Eden. As in EDEN Eden? End game Eden? Super mega doom project Eden? Seemly perfect garden of bliss build upon horrors, that you think have to face Plot Relevant, "get one of several endings", Moral Quandary EDEN??? THAT ONE!? Oh, MOTHER FUCKER. Please tell me Crazy Daddy Pants isn't one of the Architects of the apocalypse.

I do NOT want to be ground zero for that. NOR in the Protagonist's way!

He buckles up. Pulls out of his spot. Casual as anything. The world is blinding, after a life spent inside. A depressing cyberpunk hellcity crowds the world around us. Somehow both choking the world of all color, even as it splashes itself with gaudy and neon like some sort of radioactive oil spill.

Clambering over each other like a bucket of crabs, dragging everyone else down as they claw at what's left of the sky.

A full city of Babel.

Yet? Even as I remember, lay witness, to this oh so familiar set dressing? Limp in my creator's car, as he drives. Smoothly navigating chaotic traffic worse then anything I could ever remember? My mind was faster then it had been. Processed information FASTER then I could ever have imagined.

I... I experienced time differently, I think.

It was... flexible? Slowing and speeding, depending on if I... not "concentrated"? But "payed attention"? I guess? Wanted to know. It felt almost like flexing something, yet there was no... flexing? Feeling? It was strange.

Yet...

Yet, with it...

I SAW.

A food cart. Owner sneaking a bedraggled man a few extra peice when he glanced away. Young parents, swinging their child between them. He is the center of their world. A first date. They are both widows, old grief still clings, but cautiously... they are ready to try again. There is SO MUCH. Lives and lives and LIVES.

The city is ugly, cruel, but the people are not.

They are not props in someone else's play.

The traffic dies off, as we get closer and closer to opulence. As brutalism shifts to a blend of art nouveau and art deco. Bits of greenery, kept like trophies to be displayed. I am somehow... unsurprised, when my creator pulls us into the garage of one of the more expensive but barren looking houses.

It is the sort of place that makes show room's seem warm.

Because, at least, show rooms TRY to mimic hospitality and warmth. A lived in quality. They, at least, SUGGEST that the dwelling they represent could one day be a home. This? This place hold no such illusions. This house would prefer itself to be a lab. Be left alone. The walls somehow radiating a disgust of you.

It is unbearably cold.

Scooped up again. The blankets have dried against my skin in places. So he merely takes them with, rather then (apparently) risk my poor hyper durable yet still sensitive skin. He's made me a living tank. Through agony after agony, day by day, yet NOW? Now I am treated like spun glass.

Carried into the house... and God, in the GARAGE was bad? This is somehow worse. I feel like tracking in a single speck of dirt would somehow get me treated to a summary execution. Literally. That nothing resides here but nutrient paste and room temperature, triple filtered water. A place where the color beige is treading dangerously close to being "too much".

Isn't this a form of torture? I'm pretty sure this was a form of torture, locking people in rooms designed like this.

Up the stairs, down a near barren hallway. The paintings probably came the house. They scream "generic and inoffensive". Where are we..? WHY are we going to the master bedroom? I do not WANT to be alone in a bedroom with you, my dude. Shit. FUCK!

I wriggle. I can twitch my feet a bit more now, but not by much.

"Shhhh, my perfection, I know. Being so filthy must be unbearable. But don't worry, Daddy's here. We're almost there." He croons at me, almost in the exact tone one uses to sooth a fussy toddler. I pray to God this isn't a sex thing. It's already weird, I don't know HOW weird I can tolerate before I snap. "Daddy's gonna get you all cleaned up, okay? Then you can take a nap while he pack everything to go. We're going on a little road trip to our new home. Growing girls need clean air and flowers, after all."

Oooooh fuck.

Fuck, he DOES plan to take me to Eden.

Ooooh ho hooo, I am gonna DIE die. Like... super mega death. Class A with sparkles Death. Eden is a seemingly utopian dream garden. A cottage core painting brought to life. Problem is? It's built on the back of endless suffering. Cruelty and blood, atrocity and hell itself made real.

You could like in heaven... so long as you ignored what it cost others.

Destroying Eden is what triggers the Apocalypse. Because it's BUILT INTO THE PLANET. Like a massive tumor. A parasite. Killing an already dying world even FASTER. But? Again. If you wanted to get YOURS and damn the rest? Beautiful beyond measure.

His bathroom is exactly the sort of rich person nonsense I expected from a house this size. Too much space. I get set down on a bench. Because THAT'S normal to just.. fucking have. How the hell does it not MOLD? No, wait, concentrate. I do NOT want this man bathing me! Yes, he's seen me naked. A lot. But that wasn't touching! No touchy!

He comes back with a pitcher.

And I discover that I am saved. Bio-gel is incredibly water soluble. He pours water over where the blankets stick to me to free me. Has removed his shoes and watch. Everything, really, that can't afford to get wet. I find out why? When he carries me straight into a walk in shower.

Fully dressed.

....at least he's respecting my boundaries?

Never VOICED them, though. So I have no idea what this is. Washing off the blood maybe? We don't stay long. Or, rather, I don't stay long. Just long enough to remove most of the gel. Then I am swept off to a fancy jacuzzi tub. Oooooh, bubbles. Warm water. Warm and comfy, massaging wat jet lined seat. Blergle....

I think my brain is melting out.

Waaaarm soup. Bubbles. Cook my muscles until I am noodle. Leave me, I wanna die here.

I am utterly blissed out. Boneless. No longer even TRYING to keep track of my surroundings. The indulgent chuckle from above me? Should probably worry about that. But on the OTHER hand... what if I just continued to doze off, here, in what is clearly heaven's water filled embrace? Hands gather my hair. Gently begin to work what smells like fancy shampoo into it.

Spa day?

My sleepy brain says it's probably spa day or something. This is nice~

By the time everything is done, my limbs are heavy and boneless. Relaxed. At least, I'm PRETTY sure that's why I can't move so good. Mmmm, sleepy. Warm now. I list to the side, only to be caught gently. The guy helping me, helps me change. Comfy new clothes. Hair ready for sleep. Even carries me to a big ol bed. Tucks me in. How nice...

I'm forgetting something...

Feels important. But I'm TIRED. I'll deal with it in the morning.

"Ah~ my perfect girl, I can't wait to give you EVERYTHING." Whispers a voice, like a confession, before a kiss is pressed to my temple. "You were made to be loved. Adored. The perfect child meant for a perfect world. I can not wait to finally bring you HOME. God's mistake was making Adam."

"All I need, is Eve."

[discordiansamba]

"what do you want?"

azula refuses to look at zuko as he sits down in front of her cell. it's the first time she's ever seen her too young uncle dressed like the fire nation royalty he's always been, and she thinks she's already sick of it. he's even managed to scrape his short peasant hair into a somewhat proper topknot, fixed into place by a flame hairpiece that reminds her of the ones she's seen in depictions of avatar roku.

"i thought i would visit my great-niece," zuko says simply, "-is that a problem?"

azula scoffs. you've never had any interest in me before, uncle. why start now, after a lifetime of ignoring my half of the family?

at least he has the decency to look properly guilty, she thinks. he even apologizes, which she just rolls her eyes at. what? getting sentimental in your old age? or is it your newly returned mortality making you regret your past choices? whatever it is, she wants no part of it.

zuko just sighs.

i know it's hard to understand, niece, he says, but the way you were raised and the things you were taught were wrong. you are just a child. there is still time for you to unlearn them.

"don't call me a child," azula hisses, "-not with that face."

her great-uncle just heaves another sigh. fair enough, he says. your uncle never liked it when i lectured him at your age either. i guess it's hard to take me seriously when i don't look my age. but i've seen much more than you have, azula. i laid the air nomads to rest. do you know how many of them were children?

"they were weak," azula replies, "-it's what they deserved."

the weak deserve the right to live too, zuko tells her. and clearly, some of his father's soldiers must have agreed with him, because he found plenty of fire nation remains with evidence of scorch marks on them too. they saw an injustice happening with their own eyes that they realized they were a part of, and died trying to protect the air nomads.

"then they were weak too," azula waves a hand, "-besides, everyone knows the air nomads were plotting to invade the rest of the world."

her great-uncle just laughs.

(it's not a kind sound.)

"invade the rest of the world?" zuko asks. "sounds terrible. good thing the fire nation got rid of them and then spent another hundred years at war with the rest of the world."

azula frowns. that's different. the air nomads wanted to force their lifestyle on the other nations. the fire nation isn't doing that. we're just-

"-spreading our greatness to the rest of the world?" zuko asked. "i thought you were smart, niece."

azula bristles. smarter than you, uncle, she hisses.

zuko pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs. he spits flame as he does, as if he is just barely holding in his temper. fine, he says. i can see we're not getting anywhere today. i'll visit again.

"don't bother," azula says, "-i'm no traitor."

(zuko exhales as he leaves. he has no idea how iroh manages to do the 'wise old man' thing. he'd ask him for advice, if it weren't for the fact that he was so much younger than him. he was over a century old. he should know how to talk to a teenager without losing his temper.

ugh. maybe bumi had a point about him being a fake old man.

he wants to help his niece. he does. he wants to believe that she can change, like iroh changed. she's still so young.

he just has no idea how to get her there. he knows almost nothing about her. he's fought against her, but he doesn't know azula. she's right- he really did ignore her side of the family. he had his reasons, but...

...he sighs. maybe he should do the one thing he's been avoiding all this time, and talk to the man who'd made his niece like this in the first place. it would shed some light on her upbringing, if nothing else. there was no point in avoiding ozai- not now that he was mortal again.

...he still didn't relish the idea.)

[thesummerstorms]

I can acknowledge that the text SAYS that Annabeth Chase worked out her problems with her dad, that her stepmom seemed "nice", and that her "resentment" is described as seemingly unimportant in Blood of Olympus. I can acknowledge the text SAYS that Annabeth's family problems are resolved.

However. That does not mean that I actually buy it. If RR wanted me to accept that outcome, he should have done the actual work of proving it.

Yes we have the scene with the plane and Mrs. Chase telling Percy that Annabeth has a home.

But those two scenes in TTC don't actually work as a source of a resolution to that plot thread because they don't address the root of the problem- Annabeth being hurt by Frederick's neglect and her step-mother 's blame/callousness.

Even if they ARE trying to do better now (which to honest, feels like a cop out to me, almost as if RR just decided he no longer wanted to write that thread and cut it off quickly) the problem lies in what already happened in the past and how badly Annabeth was hurt by it.

She could have died so, so easily, and even if you want to argue perfect intent for the Chase adults (which I don't) she was emotionally fucked up by what happened for years. This has already happened.

But there's not even a hint of an apology or actual reflection on what caused those events and how things need to be moving forward. It's just assumed that TTC automatically fixes everything.

And yes, I actively have a post going around about how an author has to pick and choose their narratives and what they want to focus on for what characters.

But I would argue that RR already chose to make that plot line an important part of the plot- given how it drives Annabeth's motivations and actionals on an emotional level for pretty much all of TTC- it's just that he handled it badly.

If it was going to be addressed, especially if it was going to be "fixed", then we needed more to convince us that Annabeth had reason to trust her parents again. And again, for me one plane scene that doesn't go into what Annabeth has already experienced doesn't work for me personally.

Especially when you look at things like how Annabeth was still living in boarding schools full time, her description of the night she ran away in HOH, her persistent fear of abandonment.

And before anyone brings it up, I do actually have some sympathy for Frederick Chase. I personally am deeply adverse to the idea of having children of my own, so putting myself in his shoes of having been given a whole infant I never wanted and didn't know was a possibility, freaks me out a little too!

BUT. That doesn't change the fact that he had a responsibility as an adult-

to either choose to raise Annabeth fully as his child and accept the responsibility that entailed

OR

to find someone who could take care of her the way she deserved if he was not emotionally or mentally able to fulfill those needs.

I'm not saying any of it would be easy, but he did in fact have a basic obligation to make sure Annabeth was receiving care from SOMEONE. That's basic decency as an adult with some form of power over a child even if he DIDN'T want to be her father.

But his refusal to actually commit to either path just did MORE damage in the long run.

And he's free to try and make amends, I guess. People can change.

But I just don't feel there's enough to show that he really has long term, much less to give ANNABETH reason to believe he has.

[deaneverafter]

Nope, this false image that's gaining traction due to people's "joking" insults, the idea that Jensen is incompetent and nothing more than a pretty face, that he's not responsible for his own career and that Danneel is the mastermind behind his success... it's getting out of hand.

I expect this from the loser extras, including but not limited to, Misha, Briana, Kim, Rich, Rob. They're desperate for fandom (heller) approval & they resent Jensen (& Jared), hate that J2 were integral to the show, unlike them. So the s*x*al harassment and digs are a two in one, get clout AND revenge. I didn't expect such behaviour from TW cast (if someone gives you your big break/starts your whole career, the least they should be able to expect is basic decency), mocking, belittling Jensen, so I was disappointed. But all things considered, seeing the behaviour that was someone was modeling for them, encouraging them into, I guess it shouldn't be surprising. I've even come to expect it from fandom people, heller and non heller alike, who are highly involved in the con circuit, since the resentment many people in this fandom have against Jensen for being everything they can't be, everything they can't have, is so blatant. Their snide "jokes" about "you're not my fave, your brother-in-law/Misha/JoJo are", "you're nothing to me, I love your wife [but I did spend thousands of dollars to be in *your* presence to tell you that]" are their bitterness manifesting, plus, the con handlers encourage it too.

But now, to see crew members from Supernatural, people who worked w/ Jensen for a decade & a half, people who had a job for 15 years because Jensen (and Jared) stayed, people who've seen his work ethic, his talent... for them to turn around and make fun of him, it's too much. And for what? To get clout by spreading this weird "joke" (frigging insult) that Danneel is the successful producer who is sustaining his career, and Jensen is just her loser husband, her puppet? Like, I'm sorry, but I'm failing to see the "humour" in such digs. I don't get it.

And what's perhaps worst of all, is that these people only get away with it because so called fans don't call it out, even defend & make such claims themselves. I get why hellers love it, no one hates Jensen more than the Misha / destiel cult. But what's everyone else's reason? You guys cry about the big, bad coven day in, day out, when such toxic environment towards Jensen, surely started by hellers, but sustained by the rest of the fandom, could do much more damage than the haters could ever even dream of doing. What happens when people outside the fandom start hearing and believing such things? Casual fans don't do a deep dig. They hear something, and they think, ah, must be true (and I don't blame them. You can't conduct a dissertation on every artist you like).

How can you call yourself a Jensen fan and then hear such pathetic insults, disguised as funny jokes, and laugh? How can you sit back and watch this disease spread like wildfire, this image of him that he's not responsible for his own career? That he's just a pretty face, a puppet Danneel is pulling by the strings, who only has a career because Danneel has her hand on the wheel? I'm not sure what people feel Jensen has done to deserve this, to have all his hard work, commitment, effort, be dismissed this way, smh, and by people who claim to be his fans, at that. Snakes in the grass, more like.

What's also interesting is that Danneel's fans never put her down to hype Jensen up. Her friends take it one step further than jokes. They seriously claim that she's the one behind Jensen's career & success, that she's the one making things happen behind the scenes. Danneel herself literally pushes this agenda that Jensen "only moves left and right, and does what it does, because I have my hands on it", because I guess it gives her an ego trip and makes her feel relevant, assuages her insecurities a bit, while all Jensen does is support her and her whims and hypes her up.

And I just-? This makes it even crazier to me that some "Jensen Ackles fans" are not only condoning these false claims being made, they're actually the ones hammering them in, trying to brainwash the rest of the fandom, bullying people into going with these stories? Let's get this clear. Jensen has a successful career, including a steady stream of excellent jobs since he was 18, coworkers (the genuine ones anyway) who only praise him, directors/writers who want to work with him again, because of HIS hard work, HIS talent, HIS work ethic. He also has Chaos Machine because he worked hard enough, gained enough trust, that higher ups were ready to take a chance on Jensen and his projects. Danneel has Chaos Machine, the Supernatural role and any other roles she might get through CM (so essentially the entirety of her career in recent history) because she's married to Jensen. Her own career independent of Jensen peaked at a recurring role as a high school mean girl, trampling on others to make herself feel special. Since then, all her relevance or "career" has been because of Jensen and Jensen's name. That's literally it. I know this is a touchy topic for some people, but if someone's responsible for the other's career and relevance, it sure as hell is not Danneel ☕ And stealing credit from Jensen and his work and slapping it next to her name isn't going to change that. If the goal is truly to hype her up, and not go put Jensen down, and one wants to prove she's a girlboss, surely she has her own accomplishments one can brag about? Credit stolen from his work shouldn't be required.

If you call yourself a Jensen fan, act like it. Protect him, instead of cackling with a-holes mocking and degrading him. Stop dismissing his work and success to prop others up. And if you can't, then drop the "Ackles fan" in your bio and start calling yourself a hater 🤷🏻‍♀️

[olderthannetfic]

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/764008238850113536/im-having-difficulty-understanding-why-kpop-fans#notes

No offence fellow anon, but I feel like there's something wrong here.

You know what you sound like? You make me think of the people who believe certain people deserve physical, mental and sexual abuse because "they chose that line of work." As if the shit they go through means less, because people like you don't view them as humans. As if human emotions and experiences are a privilege these people aren't allowed to partake in, while expecting basic human decency. And that treating them as real life human beings is a chore, and you'd rather just think of them as your fictional #Blorbo of the season, like some random anime character or so.

Because that's what's often argued with celebrities, that they chose to be famous, so how dare they expect being treated as humans with their own lives? The audacity, they owe US their lives, their souls, their humanity.

I think there's a very interesting story of an art installation people like you should read, because it in parts could explain your choice to lack empathy for people like idols, and maybe, just maybe, you'll realize that regardless of what line of work some people are in, doesn't make them less than human. Because the way you phrased it really made it sound that way.

https://www.elitereaders.com/performance-artist-marina-abramovic-social-experiment/ https://unbelievable-facts.com/2017/08/marina-abramovic.html https://lonewolfmag.com/most-terrifying-work-of-art-passivity/ (The links are mainly to explain the art installation, but some have opinions at the end or during.)

Human's become incredibly lax with their morals when they stop viewing fellow humans as... well, human. Until the moment where that humanity is thrust into their face. Though I guess it's easier to ignore when you're never put in the room with the person you're dehumanizing, and treating as an object created for your amusement.

(Let's not even begin with the absolute lie that many of them "chose" that life, when it's an open secret what kind of fucked up bullshit the idol industry is built on. The insanity of basically legalized entertainment slavery. Rampant sexual abuse. Parental abuse and neglect. Years not making a single cent, with ironclad and biased contracts so they can't even escape nor make money. How they're treated more like pets who need to play at being a show pony and wave and smile.)

--

[lucy-dulap]

Lucy's opinion on all the kings and vice versa

(Going back to my roots with this one)

Lucy: Satan is a very... interesting character. He is quick to anger so I don't like him that much. The crunch of his teeth is a trigger at this point. I could do with a little less Satan in my life.

Satan: I have no idea how Solomon made such a whimp. They're adorable, I wish they would stop flinching everytime I look at them.

Lucy: Mammon is my sugar daddy. I give him praise and kiss his ass and he gives me money, it is a very fair trade. Hm? Of course he knows that's our relationship dynamic, how could he not?

Mammon: And this is the plan I have for their wedding suit or dress, this will be our cake and this is the ring design I came up with. They can still date Gamigin, but I'm clearly their future husband.

Lucy: Leviathan... no comment. I value my throat more than my desire to call him what he is.

Leviathan: They're an ungrateful brat with absolutely no decency! All they ever do is whinge and cry, they are just the worst! And don't get me started on that Gamigin guy. How dare he kiss my child! He doesn't deserve them and I'll make sure he pays for touching someone else's property.

Lucy: I hate Beelzebub. Whenever he's around he smokes and I hate ciggeret smoke. He's also so sexual and he keeps groping me. At least Mammon pays me money to touch my ass, Beelzebub looks like he's after my V card and nothing else.

Beelzebub: Who? Oh yeah the kid. They're cool, I guess. Nothing against them. They're a bit boring though.

Lucy: mmmmmm Asmodeus... man is making me question my asexuality

Asmodeus: I'm holding my opinion until that heritage test comes back. For the record, I would not fuck my children. Anyone else though? Especially my ex's mistake? Absolutely. I have some unfinished business with Solomon anyways.

Lucy: I'm not sure Belphegor is alive. He snored once when I was close to him and I swear I almost had a heart attack on the spot.

*Belphegor could not be found to respond to this interview question*

Lucy: Lucifer is perfect, I love him with all my life, since I was 11 I started worshiping Lucifer and it seems like it has payed off. Even now I pray to him, I wish he would sit on me, use me as a chair, or a footrest, anything, Lucifer if you're watching this let me ri-

Lucifer: They're a good kid. I'm glad Gamigin is making friends outside of Paradise Lost.

[paracosmniac]

I'm so fed up with this bullshit narrative that we didn't understand the first movie, and were so dumb to fall for a murderous clown that we forgot to care for the man behind that mask. This narrative is so fucking rude I can't even deal. If you say that the sequel was good but misunderstood by incels who only dreamed of Joker to go on a killing spree then you justify the unnecessary rape, abuse and death of Arthur which he never ever had to go through in the first place. He was already damaged, he was already hurt. He took on this Joker persona out of utter despair, not cause he was some ego driven psychopath who relished in mass murder and pain. How much more did Arthur have to suffer to make a point? And what point even was that? That society always wins? That there is no place in the world for people like him? That we have to sit here and behave when the world around us gets crazier and crazier every day?

And whats with Todd hating on Joker fandom? Wasn't that him who used the DC brand through and through? Wasn't that him who brought not even this Joker persona, but also Thomas and Bruce Wayne, Alfred, Lee and then even Harvey fucking Dent into his story only to make a statement that his story is not based in DC and totally original. That he never wanted anything to do with it in the first place because it's toxic and DC fans are delusional. Well guess what buddy? These "fans" made the first Joker a billian bucks and turned it into the world classic film that will be adored forever. We all accepted and loved Arthur for who he was. And we all deserved a bit of decency don't you think? Not all of us were Lee. Not all of us deserved that slap in the face. We didn't need to see you kill Arthur to bring out the real Joker. Should have let him be.

I equally loved Arthur Fleck and his version of Joker, and now that I lost both of them to this cruel joke I have no more light left in me

[weird-an]

Billy's life is normal.

His dad doesn't hit him, doesn't let him go hungry, doesn't call him slurs every day.

He's driving the greatest car in Hawkins, he dates the hottest girls, he's popular. It's a piece out of one of the fucking daytime movies Susan likes to watch. He even steals a few lines sometimes.

Billy's life is normal until Steve Harrington asks about his bruises, casually on a Monday. After stupid algebra class.

He doesn't even have the decency to tease. He sounds worried and worst of all, honestly interested.

"I got into a fight," Billy just says, giving Harrington a toothy smile.

"What happened?" Harrington asks, again. Like he hasn't heard him the first time. "This looks really painful."

He points at the purple skin on Billy's arm where his sweatshirt has slipped up a little, revealing a part of Neil's handprint.

"Someone got in my way." Billy sends Harrington a glare. "You wanna get in my way too?"

Harrington rolls his eyes. "It just worried me."

"What are you, my mother?" Billy flips him off and looks back at his textbook. His life is normal, he doesn't hide welts under his shirt and Steve's big eyes don't affect him.

"No. I'm not," Harrington says, bitchy as always. "But your mom isn't here, is she?"

Billy's life is normal, he doesn't have to fight back the tears thinking about the tall blonde woman pretending to love him until she left him with his dad who isn't even pretending.

He isn't crying in class. He's getting up, not even able to make up a stupid insult.

He's hiding in the stupid bathroom stall, like a fucking looser, head leaning against the wall where someone had written "King Steve has the biggest dick."

He wishes he had a pen and could turn the has to an is.

A knock on the door makes him wipe his tears away.

"Billy-" Harrington's voice is soft and even more worried than before. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it this way. I... just got worried when I saw the bruise on your arm."

Billy's life is normal. He opens the door and stares at Harrington.

"Fuck you," he chokes out.

"I guess I deserve that." Harrington rubs his nose. "I really wanna know what happened. I'm serious."

Billy's life has been normal until Steve Harrington hugs him in the school's bathroom.

[autistichalsin]

I'm writing this letter to my parents and posting it here because I'm never going to send it to them. And I want to post it somewhere.

Dear mom and dad:

For so long I've told myself, with most of what you did (minus mom actively abusing me for years when she was drinking) that you did your best. And honestly, I do still think that was true. But I also deserve the right to say: your best wasn't fucking good enough. Not by a mile.

Mom, you physically, emotionally, and otherwise abused us for years. You used everything as an excuse. Drinking. Trauma. Me reminding you of dad who you were pissed at for starting an emotional affair. But I guess me undergoing trauma through you was never an 'excuse' to talk about it since you always screamed at me for talking about it with anyone outside the house since that was 'private family business'. Bullshit, you just didn't want anyone to know what a bad parent you were. Dad, you let this happen. I know she was abusing you even worse than me. How many fucking times did I watch her hit you? But you know what? You still had a responsibility to protect us from her and you never fucking did. Not once. The best I ever got was you giving me permission to leave the house all day when she was hungover and screaming at me. Fucking thanks a LOT, dad. If you couldn't stand up to her when she was doing that shit to us/me, you could have at least had the decency to divorce her. "But I'm scared if I divorce her she'll drink herself to death" well great, thanks for deciding for me that I can and should endure abuse to save her from her own choices. That definitely didn't create any kind of complex in me or give me severe problems asserting boundaries because I then started to feel like if anything happened after I cut an abusive person out of my life, it would be my fault. Nope. No issues with that. Thanks a fucking lot.

Thanks, mom, for never teaching me (and my siblings) ANY life skills, not cooking, not doing laundry, not driving, because you "wanted me to need you so I would never leave" and thanks a fucking lot, dad, for not stepping in, saying "no that's fucked" and teaching us anyway. Really great parenting. Instead of disagreeing with your partner's shitty parenting decisions, just cosign them and go "well she's my wife". Do you feel no shame at all at the fact that none of your kids learned how to cook until they moved out (and the one still left with you is in his mid 20s and doesn't know how)? How does that not fucking mortify you? Your kids didn't know how to do more than nuke a burrito and that fucking means nothing to you?

Thanks a lot, mom, for repeatedly accusing me and dad of incest when you were drinking, because I was closer to him than you. And then, years after getting sober, hitting me with "I'm sorry, I never had a dad growing up so I didn't know how to deal with you having a good relationship with him" LITERALLY FUCK OFF SO HARD are you literally fucking telling me you had kids and anticipated we would only have a relationship with you and not him? Actually don't answer that, I know for a fact you did because guess what, grandma fucking told me you were jealous of dad doting on me as a literal fucking baby because you felt like it was a sign he loved me more. YEAH MOM, he is going to love the new baby more than you, actually! That is what parents are supposed to do when they think the universe doesn't fucking revolve around them! Also, FUCK YOU VERY MUCH for screaming at me every time I did literally anything with him that didn't involve you, guilt tripping me about "loving him more than you". First of all, that wasn't how it worked back then, but second of all, YOUR OWN BEHAVIOR made it so that yeah, I fucking do love him more than you now. You know why, mom? Because he never said that he wished he could kill me. Or how about the time you got mad that one year we had money around my birthday and he got me Elton John tickets, and you screamed at him for not getting them for your birthday next month instead (even though you'd already been) and decided the best fucking reaction to that was to HIT HIM while I watched? Not only fucking abusing your husband in front of your kids, but making your kid, you know, internalize a message that they should try to be as invisible as possible at all times but especially on their birthday so that people they loved wouldn't get abused for it, seeing as that was the SECOND TIME you abused that man over his birthday present for me? But no, it's fucking all about you feeling like he loved his kids more (WHICH HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DO) so fuck me, I guess. Fuck you.

And you know what, mom? While you were wailing that you were so victimized by him and I being close, you sure went out of your way to show favoritism to my fucking sister. Never missing a single one of her music performances but stopping going to mine after she quit. Missing EVERY SINGLE ONE OF my track meets. Yeah, I finished in last place in all of them, but I fucking loved doing it and wanted to fucking share it with you. Big fucking mistake. You got her a cello and private lessons with money we didn't have. You got the entire family to pitch in and help send her on a school trip, then the next year when I was old enough, you told them all I only played to be like her so that they wouldn't help so I wouldn't get to go on the trip. When I said I was hurt you missed my meets, you expressed bafflement that "I've heard of people in their 40s getting mad at their parents for that, but I never heard of anyone complaining while they were still young." When I told you about your fucking golden child sexually assaulting me, AFTER sexually assaulting my younger brother, telling you how she LICKED MY FUCKING NECK, you laughed and said "to be fair, I fantasized about your neck too." What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Do you actually think sexual abuse is funny when your golden child does it, or did you just want ME to think it was a joke so she wouldn't face any consequences for it? How about the fact that when the fact that she fucking RAPED my little brother, the son you were SUPPOSED to be able to pretend to give a shit about, you said that it didn't happen and I put lies in his head so his therapist would diagnose him with PTSD, implying I traumatized my OWN BROTHER just to get revenge on your golden child? How about the fact that you screamed at me for getting other family members to bring him to the police (where he was then laughed out of the station, which you obviously cared not at all about) but not doing the same when your BIL assaulted you, screaming at me that it was my fault that charges weren't pressed against him, when you were a GROWN WOMAN who could have filed the charges yourself, making me feel like it was MY FAULT that happened to you, and then trying to walk it back? Playing like you were some fucking paragon of responsibility and kindness for LATER coming back to me and saying it wasn't my fault? Too fucking late, mom. Thanks, though, for the decade of self loathing.

How about the fact that both of you decided you were "done" parenting when I was 15? My little brother was fucking 11 and he still needed you. Do you not feel even the tiniest bit bad that three of your four kids dropped out of high school? And the only one who finished- ME- still had to repeat a year? And that you promised me that if I finished this online program, because you were SO DESPERATE to see one of your four kids get a diploma (and had already written off my little brother instead of getting him fucking help, fucking fantastic job on that one) that we would go to the graduation ceremony on the other side of the state, then didn't because you blew all the money we had on cigarettes, alcohol for mom, and scratchy lotteries for dad? Remember how after that, you still tried to talk me into putting on my cap and gown and taking pictures at the park so that you would have pictures? (To your credit, you didn't push it when I said HELL FUCKING NO. Granted, I also didn't tell you the full truth that it was sheerly out of spite, because if I didn't get a graduation, no way in hell did you deserve pictures of an event that didn't happen.)

Hey, how about that one??? How about the fact that you fucking normalized addiction for me all my life, so that after watching you guys blow all our money on that shit, to the point we LOST OUR FUCKING HOUSE (yeah, real convenient to blame the 2008 recession when the foreclosure happened in 2010!) and after so many nights once I turned 18 when mom would drink and dad would bring me to the casino for a fucking break, how about the fact that I started struggling with it too? And then after I once lost my entire paycheck gambling, I came to you saying I'd realized I struggled with it too and entered GA and talked to my counselor about it so it would never happen again (and in fact while I have relapsed on gambling I have never blown more than $30 in a gambling binge since that day), and then you proceeded to FORGET it, and when I came home to visit you REPEATEDLY suggested going to casinos? I don't even use COOKING WINE when I visit because I care so much about mom's sobriety, but you can't fucking REMEMBER that I struggle with gambling long enough to not do that? I CALLED YOU AFTER THE SUPER BOWL saying that I was buying myself an imported plushie from Japan as my reward to myself for not relapsing, and you still can't be bothered to remember? But you sure as fuck remember my sister doesn't drink!

Oh, and speaking of you guys always fucking forgetting that I am hurt-able just as much as you are and am in fact my own person and NOT your fucking fixer! How about the fact that you repeatedly act surprised EVERY TIME I tell you I have anxiety? "YOU have anxiety?" YES! AND YOU ARE THE REASON I FUCKING HAVE IT! How can you be surprised I have anxiety when I literally spent a week in the hospital as a teen because I was suicidal. Literally how can any of this be a surprise. Did you think it just fucking went away? No, all that happened is that I stopped talking to you about any of it. Especially the fucking self-harm, on account of my sister starting to drink and do meth, and then starting to join you, mom, on terrorizing me. Did you forget the night she poured her beer on me, screamed at me that I was a 'faker' because she couldn't see me self-harm scars, and threw bits of meat at me because she wanted to upset me as a vegetarian? And the fact that you still let her stay with us after that? You must have been fucking thrilled to have a partner to fucking torment me with, mom. And then you both had the fucking nerve to mock me because I hid in my room all day and only come out for meals or for my classes at the community college. I was hiding FROM YOU, actually!!!

Speaking of addiction, how about you fucking smoking in the car constantly growing up, even despite me and my little brother being asthmatic. While constantly whining that the world is so hostile to smokers because we don't want to inhale your fucking poison. Thanks for the elevated risks of cancer from your secondhand smoke, really appreciate it.

Also, mom, fucking joke's on you! Remember those nights you'd fucking scream at me for not being girly enough? "Why don't you act like a real girl for once?" when I wouldn't start shaving my legs when I was going to take a swim class? "How can you be a girl if you don't do girly things, is it your long hair that makes you a girl?" Well fuck you, I'm not a girl. Eat my ass. I'm never telling you I'm not though. Even if I trusted you to be normal about trans people, I still remember how you fucking used my coming out as a lesbian to earn yourself brownie points online years after the fact. "My daughter told me she was gay, and I told her I already knew, and then she started to cry happy tears!" Bitch, I never once cried happy tears for you for any reason. What actually happened was that you and dad had a "cool, what do you want for dinner?" reaction, which I appreciated- BUT YOU FUCKING RUINED IT by trying to exaggerated it and then use it to get praise. So fuck you.

Also, hey, remember those times mom would throw me out of the house, often in the cold with no coat, and you, dad, would just let it happen? Fucking great times. Remember the times she threw things at me and you just said "leave the house as long as you can, I'll calm her down later"? Fucking wonderful. Thanks for the fucking support, dad, really.

Remember the times I'd take on your abuse, mom, to protect my younger brother? Remember the times I'd warn him to go hide and you'd scream at me for "interfering with your parenting"? And then you got mad when he started to see me more as a mom than you, and every time he had a discipline issue you'd yell at me to go deal with it because "you want to be his mom so bad, go be his mom" Remember the time I protected him, you screamed at me to leave, and then called up my grandma, told her I was attacking YOU and to call the cops (which she thankfully didn't do), kept the phone on while we were fighting so it would sound like I was the aggressor, pulled my hair, and fought so hard with me that it pulled my shirt off? This leading to my grandma labeling me a psychopath, threatening to say "what kind of person I really was" to the rest of the family, and leading me not to speak to her for years?

Remember when you, mom, heard me talking to my aunt making plans to move in with the in another state, and you wailing so hard that you were so sorry and you'd do better, only to stop the instant those plans were off the table?

Remember that time you, mom, walked in on me crying to my dad about shit you had pulled, and then glaring at me and saying "you're crying because I, what? Beat you?" before leaving?

Remember that time I had a UTI that wouldn't go away, requiring dad to bring me to urgent care twice in two weeks, and you, mom, screamed at me for "taking advantage of him"? Which led to me refusing to go to the doctor unless I absolutely had to because I was so afraid of people getting mad at me? And now you yell at me for never going to the doctor because while that shit rewired my entire brain chemistry, for you it was a fucking Tuesday?

Remember that time I was both really hungry and really tired after classes one day, so I asked my little brother to make me a sandwich, and then you, mom, screamed at me for acting like a "spoiled princess", making me feel like I am never allowed to ask anyone for anything no matter how small?

Remember when you both told us we could stay at home as long as we were either in college or working, and then when I announced my intentions to start working, you, mom, threatened to kick me out if I didn't do school, and then when I protested that I didn't want loan debt, snapped "everyone gets loan debt, suck it up" and then, after I started, laughed that you were never going to kick me out but you just wanted me to "get my life together"? Then later before I graduated with my two year degree tried to say it was because of you this was happening because you gave me that push? And then two days before graduation you had a crying fit in the kitchen because you were so devastated it wasn't my sister graduating?

Remember that time you, dad, were understandably upset and depressed after being abused by mom, but instead of getting therapy or divorcing her or literally anything, you decided to cry to me and then end the conversation by saying to ME, your CHILD, "if you had enough, you could kill yourself, but I'm stuck with her, you guys need me, I have no way out"?

Remember that time, mom, your best friend literally threatened to stop speaking to you if you kept treating me how you did, and rather than being a serious reality check for you, your takeaway was that I was "interfering with your friendships" and threatening that if I ever did that again, you'd find my best friend and tell her some of the bad things you think I had done?

Remember that time, mom, when I came to you upset about what my sister did to abuse my little brother, and you just snapped "you hurt him too!" and when I asked wtf you were on about, you said "you don't ever hug him!" when I was in fact refusing all physical contact from everyone but my toddler niece at that time due to the immense amounts of trauma you and everyone else in the family put me through? And rather than give me space to start feeling okay with it again, you encouraged my little brother to force me to hug him by blocking off the door to my room until I hugged him?

Remember how, mom, you admitted outright to trying to buy my sister's love? Remember how you arranged to have her meet some rescue guinea pigs in case she wanted one for her birthday, then when she got a snake instead, tried to cancel the meeting even though my birthday was very soon after, and it ended up being dad who said it was only fair I should be able to get one? Like could you make it any more obvious you'd fucking sell a kidney for her and would never do the same for me unless I had done something for you first? Could you make it any clearer that you just straight up can NOT stand to see me being any attention for two minutes of my life, even for birthdays or when I've achieved something huge, like, say, graduating with a Masters degree? But thanks for giving me lifelong issues with feeling selfish for asking even the tiniest bit, to the point that my therapist repeatedly had to tell me I wasn't selfish for wanting my family to fly out to see me graduate?

Speaking about graduations again, how about the fact that when I got my Bachelors degree, you, mom, yelled at me for wanting you there because flying would be too scary for you and my dad couldn't take enough time off of work to drive, and then when we realized COVID wasn't getting much better a year later and they were going to livestream the graduation, you yelled at me for saying that one of the few good things about COVID was that I could have you watching anyway, accusing me of "celebrating people dying so you could see it?"

How about the fact that you, mom lied about what happened, claiming that I flew my little brother out but never bothered to offer for you, when in fact I cried, begged, and offered to pay for the whole thing if that's what it took?

How about the fact that when I was presenting at an undergraduate research symposium for my major, you both said you weren't interested- not the issue, only some families watched the livestream anyway- but instead, you, mom, got mad when I later said I'd had my grandma watching, and denied you'd ever been invited? Because you only ever get mad when I include others in things you don't attend, either because you know it makes you look bad, or because you can't stand the thought that I could still enjoy celebrations without you?

How about the fact that you, mom, made me feel so guilty for trying to get you to come to my Masters degree graduation that I not only gave up entirely, but decided not to go myself? At least you, dad, had the decency to WANT to come and not make me out to be defective for thinking you should be there, even if you ultimately didn't fucking try hard enough to be there.

Remember the time, mom, right after I started college when you forced me to, when you demanded I use my student aid money to get you a bag of chips, and I said I couldn't because I didn't know how much books would cost yet, and then you yelled at me, and then I walked to the store and came back with the chips, and then you screamed at me that it wasn't about "the fucking Doritos" and then threw the bag at me and wouldn't touch them?

Remember that time, mom, when I introduced you via phone call to a girl I was seeing, and you immediately made the whole conversation about my sister, about how she was such a good person and you could tell this girl would really like her when they met? To the point that this girl finally texted me "I'M DATING YOU, NOT SAMMY'S SISTER! Why am I hearing all about your sister and not one thing about you, even an embarrassing story about you as a baby?" and left the phone call? And how you, dad, let it all happen, never once trying to stop her or redirect the conversation?

Remember, mom, when you needed dental surgery but couldn't afford it, so I took out a loan for you to get the surgery, and said my only ask was that you and dad pay it back on your own, and then you and dad only made TWO payments, I had to make the rest, and then when I stopped being able to afford it, you STILL didn't pay it, until the account got closed, my credit score took a hundred-point ding, and I got barred from ever having that line of credit again, meaning I can't use it for myself if I ever need a medical loan?

Remember ALL the fucking times all of you fucking used me as a therapist, and then when it was me, it was "YOU have anxiety?!" in the most shocked voice imaginable? I will say, it was nice of you to send a care package during that time my panic attacks were so bad I was having literally two a day for two months and I lost ten pounds, but you maybe... I don't know... could have like. Tried. To understand me as a person well enough to understand it was NO FUCKING SURPRISE I had anxiety, and "you're always the most put together of us all" is because THAT IS WHAT I HAD TO DO TO GET YOU THROUGH THIS FUCKING SHIT ALIVE, and I hid my emotions from all of you because they were only ever used to fucking hurt me! And even after that time things went right back to normal, as evidenced by your constant 'forgetting' what I told you about struggling with gambling.

I don't even know how to end this, to be honest. I'm fucking tired and well past the point of realizing that if I wasn't your kid, I wouldn't like you. In fact, if you were the parents of one of my friends instead and you treated them the way you treated me, I'd probably despise you and would do anything I could to help that friend leave. There's a reason my life got so much better when I left you guys and moved to the other side of the country. I still visit you a lot because, in spite of everything, I do fucking love you, and I know you're getting older and won't be around forever. But honestly, if it wasn't for me feeling so responsible for you, me feeling like your wellbeing was my responsibility... If it wasn't for all the issues I got growing up with you two where I felt, still feel, like my happiness is the least important thing and like anything bad that happens to this family is my fault by default, and like I'm a 'bad person' who 'mistreats' you any time I have boundaries and like I have some kind of duty to prove to you that I am better than drunk-mom thought I was by always taking care of the family issues to my own detriment... I would have cut contact years ago and never looked back. I barely talk to my older siblings. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough to entirely cut out everyone but my little brother. Or at least brave enough to tell you guys you've been fucking awful family to me, and often bad people too.

Mom, you fucking loved to read the Giving Tree to us when we were little. I used to think it was a really sweet story about the sacrifices of love. And then I got older and realized... huh. Why is it only the tree who ever does anything for the boy? Why doesn't the boy ever water her or plant other trees by her to keep her company? Why does it only ever go one way? Why does the tree only have duties to the boy just like I only have things I owe to you and not the other way around? And shouldn't it worry you/me/us that the story ends with the tree reduced to a stump that will probably die in a few years? And then it started making even more sense why you still love the damn book and read it to your grandkids when they visit, and I'm fucking horrified at it. The longer time goes on the more I see "but we're a family" ONLY ever goes one way. It's never "but we're a family" when I need you. It's only "but we're a family" when you need me to give up more and more for you all.

I'm fucking tired. And I really was willing to keep on going like the stupid fucking tree when I thought you were changing for the better. When you, mom, gave up drinking, and when you, dad, stopped enabling her shit. We worked so fucking hard to restore the trust. And that was the first time you started like... letting me have boundaries and you guys apologized to me and admitted none of that was okay. You got into counseling and started working on yourselves. And then you stopped. And it's really starting to fucking show. For now, it's just mom starting all the same old shit again... but I know how this story ends and I know that sooner or later it's going to be you, dad, enabling mom again at my expense. And I feel like the biggest idiot for ever thinking things would be okay as long as mom stayed away from alcohol. There's a reason folks in recovery talk about "dry drunks" and other equivalents. Because drinking didn't make you, mom, a bad person, you already were and it just removed the inhibitions that made you pretend. And you can remove those inhibitions just as well without it. You won't tell me you wish me dead without a drink, no, but you'll use and abuse me just as much, you'll scapegoat me just as much, you'll favor my sister just as much.

I messaged my little brother during one of my visits last year that I was so put off by how I felt loved, how I felt shocked that I could ask for favors or whatever else and not be yelled at for it and actually have it done to boot... and just that quick you slid back into what you used to be.

I'm really tired of asking you for just... the littlest things, okay? Dad, you at least... will see me and care about me. Like... you fucked up before, but at least I can still say without hesitation that you love me, no matter how bad you did fuck up. You actually care when I tell you about my struggles with job hunting, and I actually believe you when you say you're proud of my accomplishments. But when mom acts actively maliciously, you just don't care, and never have cared enough to stop her. You let her do all those things to me before and after. And it will never be any different.

Isn't it ironic? Because for all mom fucking abused me all my life for her suspicion that you and I, dad, loved each other more than we loved her, you and I both know that's never been true. You fought for her, but neither of you ever would for me. You were okay with me moving across the country to escape, but you would never leave her to keep us- me- safe. Not that it would have been okay for her to treat me the way she did even if I was the one you loved more, but it was never true. You'd never let me treat her the way she treated me. Ever.

So what the fuck do I do now? I hate that fucking Giving Tree book but there are times where I just feel like I'm too tired to stop any of this. Why should I have to be the bad guy and be the one to say this is the end? Maybe that's why the tree ended up as a stump in that stupid fucking book. Maybe the tree was just too tired to tell that stupid fucking brat, no, you can buy some fucking apples at the grocery store like everybody else. And maybe the tree was fully aware that no one cared about it unless it had something to give the stupid fucking brat, too, so what was the point of leaving anything for itself if either way it was never going to be fucking appreciated?

... Whatever.

I guess you're okay with how things are, anyway, because you always have been, even when things were 100 times worse. And I mean, let's be honest, I was always the only one who wasn't okay with it, for obvious reasons. And that in turn led to me being scapegoated worse and hurt worse. Everyone else was willing to play happy family, and I wasn't because I was being hurt the worst, but that meant everyone else kept lashing out at me worse because I was the one making a fuss and trying to tell family secrets outside the family and shit like that. So what does it matter anyway? It's always the same whether any of you are drinking or not. I'm the only one who sees a problem, always, so that means I'm the real problem.

Whatever. If you guys are happy with broken things, even when you started fixing them and saw how good things could be, I guess I can go back to pretending to be okay with broken shit too. I at least have a best friend, who is more my sister than the one who shares my DNA, who sees that I deserve more than broken shit, and maybe if I'm lucky one day I'll have a partner or someone who sees it too. And maybe if I keep doing things to fix my broken things, like therapy, maybe you guys will decide you want to start fixing things again too. Because despite everything you've done, I think you deserve better than broken shit too. I think you deserve better than just being passive aggressive with each other when you have problems, which inevitably grows into you yelling at each other. I think you deserve a happier and more stable marriage than that. I think you deserve to have hobbies and friends and things that get you to leave the house sometimes for things besides work and grocery shopping. Dad, I know you used to be a social butterfly and loved doing your sports leagues until mom forbade you from leaving her. You're a little too old for a lot of sports anymore, but maybe you could still find something to do. There's senior centers around you could maybe do stuff at. I think you deserve better than what you do to yourselves just as much as I deserve better than what you've done to me too. But I also know as well as you do that fixing things takes energy and sometimes it's easier to live with the broken things than it is to fix them. So I get it, too.

But I wish you would go back to how it was the last few years where I didn't get broke worse by talking to you. I miss the things you'd tell me you learned from your therapists. I miss hearing you catching yourselves when you'd do something like violate a boundary. I miss you realizing that some of the stuff you put me and my siblings through wasn't okay. I miss the Twitter posts you used to make, mom, about how you know it's kind of too late to not perpetrate the cycle that you went through with your stepdad, but that you're still going to try to fix it. I miss that side of you. The side of you that at least tried to be better than what you were when you were drinking. Now I think you've given up, I guess because of the health issues making you too tired to fight anymore, I don't know.

I'll be here as long as I can, I guess. Maybe you'll figure it out or maybe you won't or maybe things will go right back to how they were when I first moved out, with mom calling me every night to scream at me and dad just giving a milquetoast "I'd better go make sure she doesn't hurt herself, have a good night, love you sweetie." I guess that's up to you. But I can't promise you I'll be able to sit here forever. I was a teenager then, but now I'm an adult with a graduate degree, and I think I'm ready to start looking for a partner and maybe start a family one day, and I won't always have the energy or time to do the stuff I do for you now. Or who knows, maybe I'll be the fucking stump tree at the end of that stupid fucking Giving Tree book because I'm too tired and too scared to ever properly stand up to you. I guess that part is up to me, just like the rest is up to you.

I'm tired. I miss what we had the last few years. Please don't give up on that. I miss feeling like I actually have two parents who love me.

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

I am going to write a scene between two characters that is so improbably emotionally honest.

(or: another exerpt from a fic i'll never finish, entitiled "griddlehark finally talk about stuff" in my drafts.)

-

Gideon wasn't sleeping. Harrow knew this because she also wasn't sleeping. But her own sleeplessness was born of long habit. It was an easy, comfortable insomnia. The dark and quiet were all she had left of home.

Gideon, though, had never been prone to insomnia before. She had always been easily exhausted and prone to oversleeping, rocklike and deaf. And yet, there she was, for the third night in a row, up at odd hours in the safehouse’s kitchen. Harrow could hear her softly shuffling around. She hesitated, considered leaving her to her own devices—what claim, after all, did Harrow have on her anymore? What right had she to butt into any of Gideon's affairs?

But she knew, in the way that she knew almost everything about Gideon, that she was at her worst when feeling abandoned. Harrow would go if she was told to go, but she had to try, at least. She would not abandon Gideon again.

So she went out to the kitchen and found Gideon hunched over the counter, wolfing down plain crackers. This, at least, was somewhat relatable to her.

“Can't sleep?” she asked, as it seemed as good an opener as any.

“Nope.” Gideon did not stop eating as she spoke. “Guess my body's still not in the habit. Being dead and all. Do you know how weird it is to be dead? Your organs just kind of…sit there. But they don't actually do anything. Puts a real damper on all your vital impulses. Like, all of them.”

This was more words than Gideon had said to her in weeks, which was good, even if they were the last words in the world Harrow wanted to hear. She floundered for something to say. Her face must've been doing something, because Gideon looked at it and said, “Oh, right, sorry. Wouldn't want to upset you with the details. Paul told me not to talk about it to you. Be a real shame to show you the consequences of your actions.”

Harrow tried not to react to that, but it hit her like a slap all the same. “I only wanted to save you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be saved? Did you ever stop to think, hey, maybe Gideon threw herself on a fencepost because she cared about me and did not want an eternal front-row seat to my continued suffering? No. You didn't. You never thought about what I wanted, you only thought about how you'd lost your favorite chew toy. At least have the decency not to revive the little innocent martyr act from when we were eight. It never fooled me then and it doesn't fool me now. Don't look at me like that.”

“I’m—sorry.”

“You're sorry.”

“I never deserved you. I know that. Not once in my whole miserable life did I deserve to breathe the same air as you. I should've signed your release the day you asked. I should've let you go without conditions and with half our coffers in your pockets. I should’ve begged your forgiveness the first time I said an unkind word to you.”

“You can say that all you like, Harrow, but you never would've.”

“I would now. In a heartbeat. Fat lot of good it does us.”

Gideon shrugged. “I'm not sure I would've left anyway, back then.”

Harrow was startled by that. She could remember Gideon speaking of nothing else, as children. “No?”

“I mean, what would I have even done? Joined the cohort? Been there, done that, and I was bored in a month. I don't know—I don't know. Seems like everything I used to believe in was a sham. My parents. The cohort. You.”

“I don't know how you want me to respond to that.”

“Try telling me the truth.”

Harrow was quiet for a long moment. She had been telling the truth. She needed to find a truth Gideon could believe. Start from there. “You're right. I wouldn't have let you go, when we were children. I could never stand to have you out of arm’s reach, for the same reason you would never have left. I would be at a loss. The fabric of the universe would come unraveled without you. I believed that then, and I've seen evidence of it now.”

“Bullshit, Harrow. You liked having something to play with.”

“You know better than anyone that both can be true, you insufferable, pedantic meathead. You know better than anyone how I felt then, what I feel now. Do you think I was ever stupid enough to believe myself your superior? Do you think I never understood what I was doing? You were the single point around which my entire world revolved. Everything made so much sense, when it was all about you. I have seen my life without you, Griddle, and it was colder and emptier than I had thought possible. In retrospect, the idea that I had endured such a childhood at all should have alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

“I have never flinched away from my own faults. My inadequacies, perhaps, but not my faults. And I have always known that you were better than I am. I was once in denial, but never truly in ignorance, of the horror of our treatment of you. And yet the only sin you hold against me is that I tried to release you. That I removed you from my reach, relieved you of my beck and call. That is the only thing you have ever refused to forgive me for. Why?”

“You know why.”

“I want you to tell me. For once in your life, just tell me how you feel.”

“I feel stupid. I feel betrayed. I feel like I have not slept properly in a month, because I haven't. I feel like I was a corpse recently, because I was. Is this what you want to hear?”

“I want you to answer the question.”

Gideon stopped, took a deep breath. “We both already know, Harrow. Why do you need me to tell you?”

“Plausible deniability.”

She hesitated for a very long time. “I never wanted to be separated from you, either. I kidded myself about being your rightful equal when we were kids, but I don't think I even believe that now. My life was always going to be—you. I knew that. I just. Became alright with it. At some point. It was like—like, imagine if someone took your bones away, or something. The ones you carry around in your pockets, I mean, not the ones in your body. But kinda those too? Like, if everything that made you you was suddenly stripped away and you were useless. And I had to watch, Harrow, all of it, knowing I could help you. Knowing I could save you, if only you'd let me fulfill my only purpose that ever really mattered.”

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

Can you write a lovely fluff story between Arisu and female reader who loves get kissed, to get cuddled, to get touched from him (and maybe more) at night?🥰 Maybe something romantic with some kinda sexual parts

♠️ Late night closeness ♠️

A/N: Yo, I'm back and haven't forgot your request yet! As I said in one of my posts, I felt a little sick this one day so I used the next days to recover a little. Plus, I was at work thursday and friday until 6pm, so I was tired and exhausted to be honest. 😬

Nevertheless, here comes your desired story and I hope that you will like it even more. Now that it's finally out. 🫶🏻

Characters: Arisu

POV: fem!reader ; fluff ; slightly sexual content at the end!

Warnings: Includes slightly sexual content, but nothing excessive.

Late at night. To be more precise, it's the perfect time to go to sleep. Just like I always do. Apart from the fact that the surroundings are quiet and empty from dawn to dusk anyway, there is complete darkness all around us. One thing I can't stand since I've been in Borderland. The reason? The red laser beams that shine down from the sky to kill other people whose visas have run out. I know a few idiots who stay up late and look for a higher spot to watch the spectacle. Just to make sure how many will leave this world behind forever - and for sure - today.

Fortunately for me, I also know people who have similar thoughts to mine. People who don't want to see this happen. People who have enough common sense, empathy and decency to look the other way. Call it strength or call it gutlessness.

I want to sleep. Every day, even before the selection takes place. However, my thoughts, which are spinning endlessly in circles, are preventing me from doing so today. My eyes are closed. My back is turned to the window so that I am not even tempted to open my eyes. But as destiny wants it, this shall not be to my disadvantage.

It's a typical time for me to sleep. You lose track of time and space in here, but if I had to guess, it would probably be 10 pm by now. Maybe half past ten at night. So I'm not surprised that the mattress behind me lowers a little, that the blanket is lifted slightly and then gets straightened again. So that I too can enjoy a comfortable and peaceful night's sleep. Just as I deserve- at least according to Arisu.

Arisu and I ... we met here during a game and haven't gone our separate ways ever since. At least not directly. We rarely go to games together for fear that we'll end up in one where we have to kill each other. I know Arisu's story. I know what he's been through. And I don't want him to have to go through it again.

We always promise each other that we'll come back. That we'll meet again at the agreed meeting point and go back to sleep side by side in the evening. The only difference today is that I'm still awake and can therefore feel the dark-haired man snuggling up to me even better.

How he puts his arm around me and presses me closer to him so that my back is pressed tightly against his upper body. As if he's afraid someone might just take me away from him for the night. Or as if he was worried that I would just leave him alone in the middle of the night.

He does that often. Always, actually. Every night when I'm drifting off to sleep. And I like it. Arisu is a shy boy who has a lot of decency as well as respect. He would never do anything against my will or touch someone 'indecently' if he didn't know whether he was allowed to. And even if he was allowed to, he would find it difficult because he wouldn't know how to handle it.

I think he knows that I like this kind of closeness. I'm not sure, but if he pulls me into his arms while I'm sleeping, I think I'll have some reactions that approve of his actions. Be it a smile that creeps onto my lips. It's possible I'll turn towards him to nuzzle my face into the skin of his neck so I can be even closer to him. And then I remember that I once started to giggle a little when Arisu pressed kisses to my cheek, neck and shoulder. I remember, because ... he is doing it again.

"I love it when you try to show me your affection secretly, quietly and silently." As soon as he speaks, I notice how his head shoots up a little and his grip on me loosens. "Surprise, love." I take the chance to turn onto my back in the loose grasp of his arms so that I can see Arisu's face much better- it may be dark, but I don't miss the somewhat indignant look on his silhouette, which makes me laugh a little.

"I thought you were asleep!" he says confusedly, his eyes almost as big as the moon in the sky itself. "How much did you notice...?"

"Everything." Silence. "But I don't think that was enough." I smile up to him, stretching my face a little towards his so that I can give him a little peck on the lips, before staring at him for a second.

"Awkward."

"Awkward?", I asked, bursting into laughter. "What the fuck are calling awkward, Ryohei?! No, that's not!"

"I-It's just ... I thought you sleep, Y/N!" Now he starts giggling himself, so that both of us are just a laughing mess. "You can't pretend just to set a trap for me, that's not how it works!"

"Oh? But it worked very well, don't you think?" It takes a moment for us both to settle down again- until we're both quiet and just smiling to ourselves.

Shortly afterwards, Arisu tightens his grip again and presses me against him once more. He has turned sideways towards me and finally leans his head relaxed against mine. I do the same and start to stroke his arm up and down with one of my hands, while we just lie here together in silence, staring into emptiness. In the soft bed of the tower block that we have made our home for the night.

"I ... actually tried to fall asleep but failed this time." Arisu looks down on me while I look up to him. "It wasn't my plan to trap you, darling. But I have to say, I really do love it, when you cuddle me that much while I'm sleeping, Arisu. And you know, I would be happy when you keep doing this- it makes me feel protected and ... I feel safe in this creepy world when having you by my side." I assume that these words will overwhelm Arisu for a moment, as it's quite a lot at once and … well, very unexpected. "So … I'd be happy if you did that more often. Not just when I'm asleep, but also when I'm awake. I really enjoy your attention and your closeness, so … I think it would be nice if we could build on this ... intimacy." I know it might not be a good attitude.

This is not the world in which you would want to fall in love. We are not in the time warp where you are looking forward to the love of your life, where you want to fall for a person completely and carefree. Here in Borderland, it's a matter of life and death. That's why it might be wrong to tie yourself to one person- morally speaking. But if your heart is yearning and your head is in harmony with it, then it no longer feels as wrong as it really is.

"You know, this ... might getting dangerous, love?", he whispers, making me giving him back a quite "Of course" which makes him sigh a bit. "This … is not something one want to assume, but … you know, it can happen every day that one of us doesn't come back to the other." You can tell from his voice that he feels fear and pain at the thought, which makes me swallow hard- but again I only get out a whispered "I know ...", which should make him realize how seriously I meant what I said to him. "And yet you want me to consciously give you this intimacy?"

"Yes," I said, serious. "Because I love you, Ryohei." This is where I end my caresses on his arm.

Instead, I just look up at him, able to catch his eyes thanks to the light given off by the moon. I notice how his arms wrap around me even tighter in response and I catch myself clawing into the skin of his arm a little, but lightly enough to make sure there's no residue and that I don't accidentally hurt him. He nuzzles his face into my cheek and we close our eyes to enjoy the togetherness for a moment. To forget everything else for just a few seconds.

"I don't think that's something we can decide immediately, Arisu ..."

"There's no need to decide something, I guess." I open my eyes again, looking at him, giving a little "Huh?" right back, before I can catch a smile on his lips. "I ... I cannot deny that I ... like you and that I would very much like to continue to be close to you." I giggle.

"Come here." Without giving it a second thought, I swing myself on top of him and wrap my arms loosely around his neck.

His hands rest on my back from that point on and I make it quick: I pull him into a loving, passionate kiss. I know he needs a moment to realize what's going on, so … I give him the time. And only when he moves his lips against mine do I match his movements and deepen the kiss a little more, burying one of my hands in his mane so that I can push him a little closer to me.

A little later I wander with my lips to his neck, which he frees up for me a little bit by tilting his head to the side. Small kisses are spread over his thin skin before I reach his ear and whisper a soft "Touch me, Arisu ..." into it, making him blush, pretty sure.

"You want me to-"

"I see what you're up to, my love." I'm smiling. "Don't think about it … and just do it." Again I start to work his neck, which makes him hum happily before I add anything else. "When I was sleeping, you weren't afraid to go under my shirt, too." Now I'm laughing.

Because of his shocked "What?!". Because of his big eyes. Because he's a little freaked out all of a sudden.

"How much did you really notice when I thought you were sleeping all this time?!"

"I've been sleeping," I say, "but sometimes I've woken up and just let it pass over me with pleasure~."