#its already fucked that we are putting the burden of educating others on them

[jojo-the-puppy]

gonna try to word this as best as i can but, if you're tme and kind of stupid in regards of transmisogyny issues, you can like ... listen. it isn't that hard.

trans women and transfems as a whole are constantly doing the hard work for you, explaining why something is wrong, how you can make sure they feel safer, that Hey! This Show Is Kinda Transmisoginistic, So Maybe Don't Recommend It To Me!, etc etc, they're literally doing the heavy lifting for you, and if you truly care about them the way you say you do, you'll educate yourself at least a little

"trans women are women" in your bio isn't enough anymore

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Hello,

Ive been following you for years and I love your blog. In all my years on this website I have never posted, sent an ask or a message, commented or interacted with anyone on this website in any way. However seeing your recent posts about Palestine made me feel like I had to say something.

Just because you support the “weaker” side, it doesn’t make you immune to lies and propaganda.

Please educate yourself before you spread misinformation and/or misleading info.

I am a citizen of Israel. This conflict started when Hamas brutally murdered hundreds of innocent civilians, including elderly and children. They kidnapped over a hundred more. They are known for being a terrorist organisation whose stated goal is to murder jews.

I am terrified. My people are forever scarred. I and everyone I know have lost loved ones in this war. And the fact that people like you in these terrible times choose to focus solely on the suffering of the Palestinians, ignoring and justifying our suffering, speaks volumes.

The bombings you speak of, are a retaliation for the slaughter of October 7th. Israel warns citizens in advance, in order to prevent as many casualties as possible. But we cant just ignore the murder, kidnapping, rape and harm to our people like you do. We have no choice but to defend ourselves.

We have no interest nor desire to commit genocide against the Palestinian people. If we did, we would have already done so. Instead we financially support Palestine, despite the fact they use this money not to better their lives, but to instead attack our civilians.

Beware of misinformation like the accusations against Israel for bombing the hospital in Gaza. That is a straight up lie that was proven false, and the Hamas spread it along with lies about how many people got hurt, in order to convince people like you that they are justified. And its working.

Before you accuse others, maybe check your own biases and think to yourself why a Palestinian life is worth something to you and an Israeli one isn’t.

Can you even imagine what it feels like to go online after such a tragedy for a little relief, only to see people like you calling for my death?

And yes, that is what you’re doing by supporting and encouraging the actions of Hamas. An organisation that cares more about killing innocent civilians like me than protecting its own people.

I hope that if you can’t take the time to properly understand this complicated situation, you will at least stop talking about something that you clearly don’t understand.

You know, I put all of this in a private post initially. I've been largely focused on spreading charity posts, actual concrete things that can be done to save the innocent people caught in the crossfire. But clearly, my message has been mixed, so I'll define it right here.

This is just something that seeps into my bones and I had to say it somewhere: the sheer refusal by both sides to admit what they're doing. Oh, we thought that music festival was soldiers....wait no we didn't, it was random Gazan civilians who did it instead, not us, hurt them instead. Oh we are going to wage all out war....no those innocent civilian casaulties weren't us, it was them! (No, the cause of the explosion has not been independently proven. It has, however, been proven that Israel shelled the place three days earlier as a "warning" then called ordering an evacuation shortly before.) Put down an evacuation order so short and so sudden the UN protests that civilians can't possibly get out in time, then bomb one of the convoys. Tell your countrymen the evacuation order was fake so you get more human shields. More rockets! More airstrikes! More "accidents" to the tune of hundreds of civilians dead, and you never have to carry the burden or the blame for any of it. Shoot from far enough away, target enough civilians, makes it easy, makes it fun. The glory of war with none of the guilt and none of the risk! Ain't that a wonderful thing. Ain't that a fucking joke.

I grieve for the innocent Israeli citizens slaughtered because Hamas cowards wanted to kill the defenseless. I grieve for the people in Gaza getting slaughtered because neither side cares if they live or die. The difference between the two is not that one life is worth more than the others. That is morally repugnant and fundamentally absurd. The difference is that Israel is getting aid from many nations, while other nations only give aid to Hamas, not the people of Gaza. They need humanitarian aid, they need someone to speak for them and beg for restraint, which is why I'm primarily reblogging posts that call for humanitarian aid to them and for a ceasefire so they can, at the very least, have the evacuation time they should have been allowed. It is not because their lives are worth more, but because to far too many, their lives are worth less.

I understand your pain and fear, and I am deeply sorry for your loss. I too find those rooting for Hamas or declaring that the victims deserved it for being settlers repugnant. But the people of Gaza did not do this, and if it's a choice between them living and Hamas dying, I will choose their lives every time. I will always choose life. And I refuse to apologize for that. Violence like this is a cycle, revenge and revenge and revenge again because you cannot kill an idea with bombs, only keep destroying until nothing is left to fight over. You cannot stop a cycle by continuing to spin.

[atsukashii]

chapter 16 // tell me its over

Apartment 204 - Katsuki Bakugou x reader

<< sixteen  >>

|| tell me its over  || 

Word count: 4K - because i have no chill

In which Bakugou is your hellish asshole of a downstairs neighbour, and also the cute, broody regular at your work you’ve been hitting on for the past few weeks. Things get complicated though when the past makes a reappearance, then shit kinda hits the fan.

You glance down at your phone, the screen far too bright for your eyes in your dark room. Katsuki’s last message to you is staring you right in the face, sending a sharp pain straight into your chest. Black dots dance across your vision as you remember to breathe. 

What is going on?

You know that you’re partially at fault for this, for not telling him even some semblance of the truth about your ex, but you were just trying to not be a damn burden. Why should he have to deal with that? You have had to do things on your own for such a long time, even your friends knew your boundaries - how does one even rely on someone without becoming so co-dependent that it hurts to be away from them? No, you think. Somewhere along the way, you became so used to seeing and being with him, that when you parted it hurt to breathe. Hanging your head in your hands, you press the heels of your hands into your closed eyes trying to stop the pressure from building behind them. How did you get to this point?

What a waste of time…

That line made you so mad. You knew he was hurt and mixing pure anger in with his already not-headed nature, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. And you weren’t going to take it from him that’s for damn sure. Your mixed emotions were swinging between despair and anger like a wrecking ball going through concrete, and you knew if you weren’t careful it would crush everything and crumble the foundations of your very being. But Jesus Christ you just wanted to scream!

“What a fucking asshole!” You suddenly shout, feeling not even a sliver of the building pressure inside your release. You need some mood music, you decide, before you crumple into a useless ball of tears. Maybe you were just unlucky when it came to relationships. You were already aware that your communication skills sucked majorly, but you honestly thought that he was it. That he was that one person that was made just for you, and were you aware that it sounds cringe? Yes, you were. But you didn’t really care, though, if he thinks he can talk to you that way, oh he’s got another thing coming.

Getting up and walking to the stereo in the lounge, you connect your phone and turn the sound dial to deafening.

‘Look inside Look inside your tiny mind Now look a bit harder 'Cause we're so uninspired So sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor’

Turning the music up louder until you can physically feel the bass vibrating the floorboards beneath your feet, you let out a frustrated yell at your whole situation - you would rather be angry than the other option was miserable despair. You’d get to that point eventually, but right now you’re pissed as fuck. 

What the actual fuck had happened? 

One second, everything had been peachy and perfect, and the next he was accusing you of cheating on him? What utter fucking bullshit! Stomping into the kitchen, you open the cupboard beneath the sink and pull out the vodka you had leftover from your last girls’ night with Ochako a few weeks ago, and tear the lid off. 

“What utter bullshit!” You snap at nothing, and raise the rim to your lips, taking one swig. Two. Three. Suddenly, there’s a thumping under your feet that doesn’t come from the beat and you know it’s your asshole neighbor. “Fuck off!” You mumble.

What a fucking waste of time.

You want to hate him. 

You want to be violent, to punch him in the face, to scream and cry. You wanted to do something, so that he could possibly feel even a sliver of the pain you were currently enduring...but you couldn’t bring yourself to do even that. 

‘You know he’s hurting too, that’s why he bit your head off’. You would call that rational voice in your head common sense, but tonight it could get the fuck out.

Because you know that the reason this hurt so bad, the reason you are breaking down is that you loved that brash asshole that scowls too much. The one that calls you a dumbass but did so with eyes full of admiration. The one that buys you coffee even though he knows you could get it for free from your work because he can, the one who will sit in on a fucking boring ass biology lecture at 8 am in his free time because he was bored and just wanted to be with you. The one that puts your education, dreams, and aspirations at the forefront of his mind, and knows you do the same. The one that helps you study for exams. The one that knew you loved PDA and would do stupidly cute things like hold your hand and kiss you in public even though he despises public displays of affection. 

You should have told him about Shindo ages ago. You should have told him how when you’d met the raven-haired boy you were only ten. That you’d been enamoured with him until he finally had made his feelings known when you fifteen. He had been your first everything; first kiss, first love - everything. You had even chosen your current college purely so you could be with him. What a stupid move that was. He made promises that he never kept. Like the flip of a coin, his sweet and kind personality you thought you knew turned into something completely different. You could barely recognize him. Shindo Yo became the psychotic boyfriend that you should steer far clear of. Expecting you to be at his beck and call, you found that being around him no longer took your breath away as it had once before, but instead smothered you.

You should have told Katsuki how you had come home to your shared apartment to find clothing littered across the floor, leading to your bedroom. You knew what was going on before you even recognized what you had heard. You should have told Katsuki about just how much it crushed you, about how you crumpled to the floor after walking right out of your apartment. You should have told him about the slump you were in after. There were days when you wanted to scream and days when you wanted to cry. You should have told your boyfriend that your ex had cheated on you and that he was pestering you non-stop. You should have trusted him, you should have relied on him. But that’s the thing about looking back on something, you see every little mistake you’ve made and how you could have changed it, but you can’t change what’s in the past.

You know that you were partially in the wrong for this, but so was he. Who does he think he is talking to someone like that? You know he’s hot-headed and can be borderline arrogant, but the way he spoke to you? Maybe you didn’t need that in your life…

‘Your point of view is medieval…’ Lilly Allen’s voice sings through your speakers and you frown at the blank tv in front of you. You had every right to be pissed at him right now, and though you know you may never truly hate him, you could be fucking livid. The chorus hit and you stood up on your couch and shouted the lyrics along with the music. 

“Fuck you! Fuck you very, very much. 'Cause we hate what you do and we hate your whole crew, so, please don't stay in touch!” You all but scream, not caring for anything but the anger and pain trying to burst its way out of you. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and faster than you would like to admit it finds its way to your hand. 

Text from Unknown: Y/n...can we please meet up. I just want to talk to you again, I miss us. Hear me out please gorgeous... - Shindo.

You feel something inside you begin to crack as the tiny sliver of hope you had that it was Katsuki leaves you. There is no hesitation as you turn off your phone and toss it on the couch away from you.

“Why are all men douchebags?” You ask yourself, tears threatening to fall as your anger begins to shift to something else. No no no, you’re not going to cry. You are not a fucking crybaby y/n... Earlier, the idea of being alone sounded like what you needed, but now, the music blasting, your apartment felt eerily quiet and your heartbeat echoed inside your head in perfect synchronization with the beat. You just knew you as you had reread your boy- ex’s texts, you couldn’t have your friends right that second because you knew you would break down and burst into a useless puddle of tears and you were better than that. You were stronger than that. A boy wasn’t going to break your heart. Not again. 

“Do you really enjoy living a life that's so hateful? 'Cause there's a hole where your soul should be,” you mumble along with the song, sitting on the edge of the couch just listening along with the words. Your brain wanders to your friends, and then automatically to Kirishima and Kaminari. His friends were so nice to you and were people you had started to think of as your own friends. Ones he was so rude to but fiercely loyal to. Why couldn’t he be this loyal to you…

You feel sobs building at the back of your throat and try to swallow them down. It hurt too much; his accusation was a force of relentless bullets that keep ripping new wounds into you. The thought of ever doing that to someone else, of someone having to go through what you had, it made you sick to your stomach.  Your heart physically throbbed painfully inside your chest. Looking at the vodka, you decide against it and go looking for some water. 

You wouldn’t have heard of it if you hadn’t had to walk past the door of your apartment. The vigorous pounding and a voice shouting that's muffled by the music. Your downstairs neighbor no doubt. Oh, you were so not in the right frame of mind to deal with this. The pounding force rattles your door and for a second you think it may just break off its hinges. 

Jesus Christ is this person fucking insane?! 

Your somewhat ‘war’ with them had been put on hiatus recently as you had spent a lot of time between Ochako’s and the boy’s apartment as its location was much closer to school. Also with everything going on with Katsuki, you had forgotten just how much of a raging asshole the dickbag downstairs was. But now you remember every little crappy thing they had done, the blender going off before five am, his constant complaints when you were up later than eight, oh and that fucking note! The audacity that they had to pull that crap... Fury fills your blood again as you stomp towards your door, finally ready to give them a piece of your mind. You don’t care if they were an old person like you had previously assumed, they were being an insensitive asshole! Can’t they hear you’re in pain? Sniffling, a burst of anger left your mouth as you yank the door open.

“Leave me the fuck alone you miserable-” what met your gaze stopped you in your sentence, cementing your feet to the ground.

No, this can’t be happening right now. The horror in your eyes stared back at a pair of red vermillion ones, as your next breath rushed out in a gasp. His bloodshot eyes previously filled with rage that rivalled yours quickly morph into shock. 

You stare at the boy that broke your heart not even an hour ago. You look at Katsuki Bakugou and his beautiful face, and everything that happened today tears through you like a wave of blades. A pathetically broken noise comes out of your throat and you immediately slammed the door in the blonde's face.

Oh my god…

Your legs collapse beneath, you causing you to fall to the floor. Oh my god, he was your neighbor. This whole time, he had been downstairs. Katsuki had been the one to drive you fucking mad whilst also make you feel so weightless and happy. The shock causes your body to shake as sobs rip through you, no longer able to hold anything in. 

No, no please don’t let him be here. He can’t be here.

And the previously cracking piece inside of you shatters.

                                             ❀ ❀ ❀

You’re not sure how long you stay there for, back against the door, weeping as if a limb has been severed from your body. The only indication of time moving on around you is through the ever-changing music seeping from your speakers. By the time your world somewhat comes back to focus, Kodaline is playing in the background. 

There's a gentle thump on the door, and you, for a moment, ignore it. You don’t want to see anybody. As if hearing you, you feel the next tap right on your spine followed by a soft voice.

“Y/n…” You force yourself to stand up and look through the peephole of your front door, the music playing too loudly for you to determine who is on the other side. You brace yourself for the worst, not really though knowing what that is - but the sight that meets you is a welcomed one. Another broken sob rips out of your chest as you see a pair of heterochromatic eyes that you have known since you were a child. You sling open the door so fast, the slam of it hitting the opposite wall is felt through the floor. Without a second of hesitation and without a single word, you throw yourself on your best friend and let your sobs be muffled by his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” Shouto says, holding your head against his chest. Never before, have you been so glad to see them in your entire life. You’re not surprised at all by their arrival, however, because they knew you, just as you knew them. 

You feel Todo walk you inside and sit on the couch, with you tucked up next to him in silence. The music is turned off and they don’t ask what happened, doesn’t demand anything from you, Todo just holds you as Izuku whizzes around your apartment like a man on a mission.

“He-he…” You try to say, making both boys stop to look at you. Your voice is hoarse from your crying and your throat burns at the attempt, but you need to get it off your chest. Todo’s serious gaze encourages you to find your voice again and between sobs, you manage to get it out. “He was my neighbor. Downstairs.” they look at each other before looking at you, a mix between anger, disbelief, and shock.

“You’re going to come and stay with us for a few days,” Is all Todo says in response, not leaving any room for discussion as you break down crying once again. Relief floods through you, both at having them here, but also for not having to be in the same building as Katsuki. 

With haste, they gather what you need and you quickly hurry down the stairs, the boys glaring at the level below yours as if tossing up the idea of getting into a physical brawl. You know that had they known just who occupied the apartment below yours before arriving at your rescue, they would have made a quick pit-stop at apartment 104. Shouto opens the passenger door for you and quietly,  you slip inside. You wipe your nose on your sweater sleeve and try to muffle your sniffles. Once the car is started and you’re buckled in, from his spot behind you, Izuku wraps his arms around your shoulders, hugging you to the chair.  You lean back into your friend’s embrace as he kisses you on the head. 

“You want some chocolate?” He asks quietly, and Todo actually snorts.

“Contrary to popular belief, chocolate doesn’t fix anything Izuku.” 

“Really? Because I have proof that it does,” he sasses back, resting his head on your chair.

“I’m good for now, thanks Zuzu.” You look between your two friends and try your best to give them a sad smile. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Whatever you need, we’re here y/n.” Shouto says, and your lips wobble. God, they were so precious to you. Sensing your inner turmoil, Izuku squeezes you tighter and you chastely peck the arm across your chest in thanks. You don’t know what you would do without them, or where you would even be.

The rest of the trip is relatively quiet, only Zuzu’s humming as songs play on the radio fills the car, and you’re grateful for even that distraction. When you finally make it to their shared apartment, you open the door and there’s Ochako, pacing and looking so damn worried. Meeting her halfway, you let her pull you into her as the silent tears you can’t seem to stop, run down your cheeks. 

“We’re watching movies,” she says, leading you into the lounge where you find three mattresses on the floor. You give them all a watery smile in thanks but turns into a broken attempt at a laugh as your eyes lock onto the three bags of KFC now in Shouto’s hands.

“You feed a small army with all that food.” You smile, wiping your nose. 

“We’re basically the same thing.” Todo points out as you all sit down and get comfortable on the floor. With your friends surrounding you, you give them all another sad smile and try to wipe away the uncontrollable tears as they fall.

“I love you guys so much.” You sniffle. Pulling you into him, Todo wraps an arm around your shoulder, and Ochako hugs your waist. 

“We love you too chickadee, more than you will ever know.” But, you think as you look over them and then at the Disney opening on the tv screen, you do know, and you love them just as much.

He stands outside the door of the apartment above his own -  your door, staring at it with wide eyes. No fucking way were you his neighbor. He wasn’t a moron, or inept, he would have known that. Surely he had walked you home before?...no, you had been staying at Ochako’s a lot because it was closer to your work and classes… Your love for abba, your fucking sass, and annoying tendency to take no shit from even him that he adored. 

God, it was so obvious. How did he not fucking know?

Turning down the stairs, he all but sprints back to his room, clenching his phone so tight in his hand it almost cracks the screen. Fuck he needs to talk to someone or hit something. Some divine intervention that could prevent his phone from certain death emerged through an incoming call. Without hesitation, Katsuki answers, knowing full well who’s on the other side and his mouth moves too fast for him to comprehend. Looks like it’s talking and not hitting something.

“She was my fucking neighbor Kirishima.” he blurts out, his ass falling onto his couch as he speaks. Leaning back and he looks up at the ceiling as if he could still see her broken face when she had answered the door and seen him. He was sure that the shock on his face mirrored hers, but then the pain that it turned into... Good! She should be feeling what I felt. His brain argues against the very words, but he doesn’t care.

Katsuki manages to catch a very confused reply from his friend and rubs the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

“She’s my upstairs neighbor.” He repeats, the situation finally daunting on him. The girl he had been dating for months was living above him, making his life hellish whilst doing the opposite when she was with him. Fuck my life.

“Fuck man,” Kirishima says distracted, and Katsuki can’t blame him. “I’m assuming you saw her or something then?” The redhead asks carefully. A growl rips out of Katsuki’s throat and he stands up, fisting a hand in his hair. He so wished that he hadn’t seen you. That someone else had opened that door, instead of your broken expression and bloodshot eyes. The way you had looked at him was as if he were something between a ghost and your worst nightmare.

“I wish I fucking hadn’t,” he admits. 

“Bro, she obviously meant something to you so I’m not surprised that you’re hurting-”

“Well, she doesn’t anymore. That shit’s done and thank god for it.” He wants to be fucking livid at you but no matter the shitty things he says about you, all he can see is your pained face and the feeling dissolves into nothing, leaving only despair in its wake. The words actually hurt as he says it, and Kirishima sighs from the other side of the phone - as if he could hear the turmoil in his voice. But the redhead doesn’t mention it. Good, because there would be hell to pay if he had.

“I’m currently staring at a half-full bottle of scotch from work right now, and am feeling kinda pathetic about drinking myself. Want some?” Katsuki knows that his friend doesn’t want to fucking drink. He works as a personal trainer most mornings during the week, including Saturdays, so getting slammed on a Friday night was something he often opted out of. But for this situation, for what his friend was going through, he’d do it. Or at least would watch over Bakugou as he got roaring drunk. 

“That is fucking pathetic shitty hair,” he replies, shaking his head at his friend’s antics. “Bring the fucking bottle or you’re not coming in.” 

“I knew you’d think so. I’ve got spiced ribs too just sitting here, I’m going to bring them too.” Katsuki would have to be an idiot to believe his friend would have one of his favourite foods just hanging around, but he didn’t object to it. “You’re second favorite bro might also make an appearance. But we can decide that depending on how much he pisses me off in the car.” For a moment, Katsuki’s lips tick up, but quickly drop again as he hears the sound of a door closing coming from above him. You’re leaving. 

Without realizing it, his hand has moved up to his chest where he gently rubs the skin above his heart. 

“I don’t care, Kirishima. Just hurry the fuck up and get over here.” He can hear Denki in the background and chooses to ignore them both before with a final curse at his friends, he hangs up the phone. His feet drag him to the window of his apartment that looks over the car parking of your apartment complex, and it’s like the world has a vendetta against Katsuki Bakugou this past week. Because there you are, getting into a car as your friend with the half and half hair closes the door behind you. From this angle, he can see you clearly through the passenger side window, and he can see the tears running down your cheeks. He has an urge to run to you, one that he blatantly ignores because you don’t deserve it. 

He’s better off without you.

Your green-haired, freckly friend wraps his arms around your shoulders - and then the car is gone. Katsuki turns his back on the window and walks towards the kitchen.

He’s better off without you. The whole thing was a fucking mistake. He doesn’t need anyone. His aspirations will take up everything he is, and he would much rather focus on that than you. 

Anything otherwise isn’t even worth a fucking thought.

a/n: whew, that was a doozy. Sorry if its a bit wordy, I just had to get it all out. This will be the only written chapter of this series, so everything from here on out is back to the social media format. We’re so close to the end now its so scary. This smau is my baby and I love it lots so its really sad. 

Tag list below. Wanna be tagged? shoot me an ask!

@alexismiszczak​

@anastar-legion​

@ambitchousaf

@a-timeheist​

@bakubatty​

@bikinibrattoms​

@breaking-ur-kneecaps​

@bubbzibubbles​

@ew-i-hate-that-goaway921​

@fangirls-are-scary

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@whisperingwolfie​

if your name has a strike it wouldn’t tag :(

[cagestark]

*New Year’s Kiss*

Peter getting drunk on champagne and begging Tony to be his New Year’s Eve kiss. 

About this: tiny lil 2k fluff. Sfw. Ff. Adult (20yo) Peter. Posting a little early so we can enjoy it on this thirty-first. 

-

In the third hour of the party, Pepper at last manages to corner him beside the band. Tony has been avoiding her all night, strategically placing waiters and waitresses laden with trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne between them, because while Tony wouldn’t put it past her to tackle him to the floor, he doesn’t believe she would accost an innocent. Her face is flushed, whether from anger or alcohol, Tony can’t say. 

“Tony,” she says, urging him to the side of the room away from the blaring swing band and writhing mass of bodies. “You need to cut off Peter.” 

Ah. Until then, Tony couldn’t have been sure why Pepper was hunting him during the party like a shark smelling blood (there were a whole host of potential reasons to be fair), but this reason—it’s not a bad one. Against his will, he glances towards the dance floor where Peter is currently being taunt how to Charleston by Natasha, whom Tony doesn’t believe he has ever seen smile nor laugh so much in one evening. His mouth goes dry at the way Peter looks, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat, the sleeves of his dress-shirt rolled up, cheeks flushed. 

“What?” Tony shouts. “I can’t hear you, this band is so goddamn loud, I love it though, don’t you? What a way to bring in the 20’s, am I right?” 

“Cut! Him! Off!” she says through her teeth. “If the press get wind of us letting a minor—” 

“Peter is twenty!” 

“Which is underage, Tony, don’t undermine me.” 

“Come on, Pep,” Tony pleads. “Look at him, he’s having such a good time. If he’s going to drink, I’d rather he do it surrounded by the Avengers and SHIELD employees than anyone else in the world. That way we’ll have tons of documentation to blackmail him wi—ow, God, woman! Mercy!” 

“Take him outside,” she insists. “Get him some air to help him sober up, and tell the bar not to serve him another drop. I mean it. If you’re quick enough, you can make it back inside in time for the countdown.”

Sighing, Tony relents. While his guest rooms were open to any Avenger who became too intoxicated to walk, drive, or portal themselves back home to the proper dimension, he isn’t sure if May expects Peter home at a decent hour or not. Sending the kid back to her drunk would be a poor idea in the best of terms. 

Wading through the dance floor (nearly getting elbowed by an over-enthusiastic SHIELD agent who is flapping a little too enthusiastically), Tony approaches Peter and Natasha with his eyebrows up. She’s dressed the way many other party-goers are, in typical Roaring Twenties style. The beads on her dress glitter in the light and with every energetic step. Peter is no less a specimen, though he has shed his pinstripe overcoat. The vest beneath fits him like a glove, emphasizing his trim waist. 

There’s no harm in looking, he thinks. And he certainly can’t help the images his brain conjures at a moment’s notice. Tony has had enough with trying to keep a leash on the things that are beyond his control. 

He places a hand on Peter’s back as the music changes to a ballad. The kid’s skin burns his palm, shirt thin and nearly see-through with sweat. Peter glances over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded. They widen at the sight of Tony, a smile blooming brighter and more beautiful than any flower Tony’s ever seen. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter says. At once, he abandons Natasha (who slips off into the crowd with a shimmer of beads, ever adept at knowing when to drift back into the shadows), and throws his arms around Tony’s neck, plastering himself to the billionaire and beginning a drunken sway, like Tony has simply tapped Nat’s shoulder and asked, can I cut in?

He lets them sway together for a few long moments, keeping his hands primly above his partner’s waist. When he feels Peter turn his head so that his breath fans hot against Tony’s neck, he works to clear his throat of the knot that’s tied itself there. Even though it hurts to pull away from the kid’s drunken embrace, he does it. He’s good at doing the things that hurt. 

“Come on. Outside, Valentino,” Tony rumbles into his ear. 

Peter follows happily enough, stopping to hug Clint who is equally as drunk. They spend a long, semi-homo-erotic moment pressed together, like lovers who are seeing each other for the first time and not teammates who were wearing feathered headbands and taking photos together in the picture booth thirty minutes before. 

“Alright there, come on,” Tony says, coaxing Peter away. “I hate to break up such an arousing display of affection, but I need to get this little spider outside, stat. Pepper’s orders! Pepper’s orders!”

The last thirty feet to the balcony are traversed with Tony carrying most of Peter’s weight, the kid’s breath still hot on Tony’s neck while he babbles about how swell the party is, how much fun everyone seems to be having. It’s charming enough to listen to. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the suave singer of the band murmurs into the microphone as Tony opens the door to the balcony, letting in blustery air that sobers even him. The room behind them falls as quiet as it can when filled with eighty of Tony’s closest friends and loved-ones who have been indulging on authentic French champagne for the last three hours, glossy eyes turning towards the platform where the band sits above them all. “It is five minutes until midnight. We encourage you to find your favorite guy, gal, or pal to ring in the New Year with. If anyone has any declarations of love to impart, now is the time.”

“Where’s Bruce?” Thor shouts at the top of his lungs. 

Howls go up around the room until Tony closes the door and cuts them all off. 

“Do you think we’re going to miss Thor make a move on Dr. Banner?” Peter asks. He’s not slurring but there’s nothing sober about him, eyes glossy, swaying where he stands with Tony between him and the balcony. The cold air enhances the pink flush in his cheeks, and the kid shivers, sweat cooling in the breeze. For a moment, Tony gets an idea in his head of taking off his jacket and slinging it over the kid’s shoulders. He bats it away. 

“Even if we do, there will be footage I’m sure,” Tony says. “How are you feeling kid? Tell me the alphabet backwards.”

Peter laughs, head tilting back. Tony’s eyes drop to the pale, unmarked throat before he urges them away. “Come on, Mr. Stark. Give me something hard—I mean! That’s not what I meant. You know what I meant. Not hard like your—not that you are—fuck.” 

“God, I hope FRIDAY is filming this right now. Who am I kidding, FRI sees all,” says Tony, glancing out over the city. Manhattan is lit up like a Christmas tree, full of people eager to leave the year behind, hopeful that the future is as bright as the city lights. Tony cranes his neck to take in the party beyond the frosted glass, everyone moving like a movie with the sound off. “Take some deep breaths, Pete, try and clear your head, okay? We’ll both be back in there before midnight.” 

A firm presence leans against him. He nearly jerks away (like he doesn’t know who it is, like there’s anyone else out on this empty balcony save for them). Peter presses his nose to the crook of Tony’s neck and breathes in, one hand resting firm against Tony’s hip. “Is Miss Potts going to be your New Year’s Kiss, Mr. Stark?”

Heart in his throat, Tony struggles to respond. This close, he can smell the kid’s body spray and beneath it the sharp but not unpleasing scent of his sweat. Peter’s eyes glitter black, like lights off of the Bay. Instinct urges him to set Peter straight, to remind him that he and Pepper broke it off months ago, and the relationship had been more platonic than romantic even long before then. Instead, all he says is, “No.” 

Peter hums. “Do you know who I want to be my Kiss?” 

Tony swallows. “I can make an educated guess. Kid—” 

Peter’s hands fist the fabric of Tony’s suit. His strength is unmatched, pulling the billionaire close until they are flush against each other. He’s hard in his JC Penney dress slacks, hips leaning forward to nudge against Tony’s hipbone until the kid groans, a sound that makes Tony’s mouth go dry and his heart pound like a bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. “Please, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was a little boy, ‘m a man now, aren’t I? That’s what you said to Captain Rogers when he didn’t want me on the team.” 

“Peter,” Tony groans, glancing back towards the party. No one has taken any notice of their absence. “Come on, kid. You know I can’t.” 

“Why not?” Peter breathes, pauses to press his lips chastely to Tony’s shoulder. “Because you’re straight?” 

Tony sighs. “Don’t insult me like that; you know I’m not—” 

“Because I’m underage?” 

“I know you aren’t—” 

“Because you aren’t interested in me?” 

“I am—” He snaps his teeth shut on the words just a moment too late. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could reach out and snatch the words right back out of the air, hide them somewhere down deep. He mutters under his breath, “Fuck.” 

“Don’t worry,” Peter says, smiling with glassy eyes. He looks more tired than drunk, exhausted, too young and with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And Tony can’t add himself to that burden; he just can’t. “I already knew. But if you want to kiss me, and if I want to kiss you, then why can’t we?”

“You make it sound easy,” Tony says roughly. Something in him, some fault line that has existed in relative inactivity until now while the pressure builds and builds—it finally snaps. He grips Peter’s wrist which was creeping around towards his tense abs, towards the bottom of his vest like he’s going to dip it right down the front of Tony’s pants. Pulling him into the shadows away from the glass doors, Tony presses Peter against the wall of the Tower and looms over him. “You make it sound innocent. You think that a kiss will be good enough for me? I’m the most famous glutton alive, kid. If I pour myself a drink, I have to have another. If I kiss you—it won’t be enough for me. It will never be enough for me.”

“You act like I could ever want you to let me go,” Peter laughs. 

Inside, the countdown begins, the roar of the entire room just audible through the glass doors of the balcony. 

10

“Please—” 

9

“No, Peter, I can’t.” 

8

“I’m begging you—7—Please—6—Even if this is all I ever get—5—then at least let me have this—4—this one moment—3—Tony, please—2—”

—And one must come next. It must. But Tony doesn’t hear it, not for the rush of blood in his ears (his heart, that’s his heartbeat pounding away), not for the wind whistling around them when he closes the distance between them, presses them chest-to-chest so that he can capture Peter’s mouth with his own. It’s not a first kiss, no tentative questioning movements. It’s a well-seasoned lovers’ kiss, fierce and wet, a tsunami that drags him under until Peter’s all that’s in his mind, his mouth, his lungs, his scarred chest and broken-open heart.

When they part (Peter breathing the softest thank you), their mouths are raw. The cheers from inside might as well be for them for the way Tony’s heart has swelled. He rakes his eyes over Peter’s face, seeing him with new eyes even as the kid gives him a sad, trembling smile. 

“That’s it, then,” Peter says, tears glittering in his lashes. “Party’s over, huh?”

“No,” Tony promises, taking the kid’s hand and pressing his lips to the arch of his knuckles. “I meant what I said; I haven’t had enough of you, Peter. The party is just starting, kid. Come on, let’s get out of the cold.” 

[othercat2]

Jam: Egg fic with worldbuilding but no title 1/?

So this is a thing I’ve been putting up on the homestuck gang discord. I decided to play with the “oviparous trolls” au thing. As you do. As usual, I have no idea of what I’m doing, and there’s a lot of worldbuilding.

_________________________

He's fussing (he is not fussing this is his first clutch okay) with the temperature controls of the incubator. Four eggs was  a reasonable sized first clutch and they were all on the small end. (But perfectly acceptable Zahhak!) Karkat snapped pictures of the speckled eggs and sent them to their genetors with his usual message of "red and blue slurry still does not make purple grubs." In honor of some of the most idiotic questions he'd  been asked by someone supposedly not a subadult. (Zahhak was lucky his matesprit put up with him.)

After egg coddling was breakfast and waiting for his attendant to arrive with his schedule. (And check his work.  Fucking up temps for a clutch could alter their projected caste or render them nonviable.) Karkat was hoping Kanaya was going to be bringing him good news from the medics; he's been on rest for what feels like forever and wants to get back to his work out. He checks the news feeds and catches up to social media. He also does a lot of shit talking at various internet hate friends. He's  doing some online shopping when Kanaya turns up. He's about to offer her a muffin and some coffee but...

"Kanaya are you okay?" She did not look okay.  "The Cavern Matre called me into her office," Kanaya says in a numb little voice. "Something terrible has happened."

Karkat felt a little thrill of panic at that. "Did something happen to my genitors?" He asked. “Zahhak doesn't  message too often but usually I'm exchanging stupid smilies and emojis with Megido by now."

Kanaya shook her head. "No this is something else. Worse."

"Worse?" Karkat asks. Kanaya nods. "The other attendants are speaking to their genetrices," she says.

"The Matres felt this would be better than simply announcing this during assembly."

"Announce what Kanaya?" Karkat asks.

Kanaya takes a breath. "Despite the strictest security measures we've discovered there's been trafficking of a genetrix bloodline."

"Holy shitfuck." It was easy to see why it hadn't been announced during assembly there would have been a fucking riot. "How?" Cavern security by necessity was tight for the very purpose of preventing kidnappings. Genetrices were trained to fight or take more extreme measures if taken. The punishments for attempting a kidnapping were gruesome.

"We don't  have all the details yet. The Church hasn't been very forthcoming."

"Of course. Mother Grub forbid they give a full report to the ones it's  relevant to." Kanaya gives him a look of reproof. Or tries to. Karkat's pretty good at staring her down.

"I'm sure we'll know more soon. There could be a reason behind the with held information."

Karkat did not agree but also didn't  want to argue. The reproductive and attending castes relative independance was hard won. It was also fragile. He knew that in the early days of his castes creation there had been total chaos until the early prototypes, led by the Signless had proven  it was more trouble than it was worth for the highbloods to try to keep their own little pet genetrix. The idea of an entire bloodline having been stolen was an immense blow. ( And horrifying purely from a stance of compassion. ) After breakfast Kanaya checked on the eggs temperature and the development of the embryos.

She checks his notations and makes a few of her own. Karkat tries not to fidget too much. They go to assembly next. Karkat takes his sickles. Out in the corridor are other adult genetrices and their attendants, all armed. The mood is too tense for the usual greetings and shit talking. Everyone heads into the assembly hall.

The Matre of the Cavern, flanked by the Matres of Medical, Education, Support, Assessment, and Genetics were on the stage. As a group they bowed. "By now you've been informed of the crime," the Matre of the Cavern says.  "We still don't have the details.  What we do know is that since  our Cavern is closest the genetrices will be brought here."

There was a flurry of questions, but the Matre of the Cavern signaled for quiet and  the Matre of Assessment stepped up. "The line has three living members. A third molt adult, a gravid adolescent and a two sweep old child. We don't  yet know if there were others that were sold elsewhere or culled."

"What's going to happen with the traffickers?" one of the older genetrices asks in a hard voice.

The Matre blinks. "They're ours of course. As always."

"Clowns," the genetrix points out as if this alone was an argument.  (It probably was. Fasces' most frequent genitors were a kismesis pair who were deacons in cult of the twin messiahs.)

The Matre's mouth twitches like she's  trying not to laugh. "I don't  think convincing them to turn over the criminals or what's  left will be a problem," she says.

More questions were asked about the situation and plans for the bloodline. Most of them were deflected, though Support indicated plans for housing and integration if possible were being discussed.  Karkat knew he wasn't the only one to shudder at the "if possible."

Assembly turned to other subjects such as the graduation of the most recent brood from the trials, the up coming Ascension for the next brood, and the Fete of the Last. (Karkat was on the decoration and planning committee for his sector of the Cavern.) There was also an announcement that due to the discovered theft, the Caverns had called off the Lottery and all genitors who hadn't taken vows were being asked to leave early. No one was especially happy about this.

After assembly was a doctor appointment where Karkat was approved for "light exercise." The doctor from long experience with her patient told him that extended sets with his sickles did not constitute light exercise. Twenty minutes a day, with a three minute increase over the next twelve weeks. "This is a monumental load of feculence in the backed up sewers of stupid bullshit I have to deal with," Karkat griped.

"I don't caaare," Zheydh almost sings. "This is what you get for over exerting yourself while gravid! You fainted and probably traumatized the class you were teaching Vantas. Then you wouldn't take my advice because quote 'you're not the one whose a waddling troll turducken.' Now I get to have my revenge."

"I hate you so much," Karkat says. "Shut up Kanaya."

"I didn't say anything," Kanaya says, amused.

"I can hear your I told you so," Karkat says, giving his attendant a glower.

"I doubt you're developing telepathy Karkat," Kanaya says teasingly.

 After the doctor appointment Karkat teaches his Lit class and goes to lunch. Then he attends  a section meeting where the main topics are morning assembly and the next environmental failure drill. (They were past due for a bolide emergency procedure. There was also strong argument for an actual raid drill.)

The meeting ran over, but he didn't get into very much trouble with his supervisor in the creche over it. The wigglers however were very sad he was late and manipulated extra story time out of him. After creche was dinner, which he shared with Kanaya.

The next few days were much the same except for an underlying simmer of anger for the traffickers. They still hadn't found out how it had happened, still weren't sure if the clowns were going to turn them over. Assembly was generally full of shouting that the Matres couldn't quite mediate.

The clown ship finally docks in the Cavern bay. It's surprisingly small and sleek and for a Church ship. (The cult had its  own shipyards and from what he'd heard their ships tended to be much bigger than standard Imperial ship  classes.) It's  painted with multicolored eyes and wings that spiral from bow to stern, and it's  maybe a quarter  the size of a cathedral ship. The ship is disturbingly named  Dance of the Angel.

Karkat is very very surprised when the Cavern Matre sends him a message that he's been asked to come with her to the ship and meet with the   Grand Highblood. "What the fuck?" Karkat asks. He waves his shelltop at Kanaya. "What is this? Am I reading this right?"

"I...it would seem so," Kanaya says. "The Grand Highblood wants to meet you."

“Why?" Kanaya gives him a look as if he's being deliberately obtuse. "Perhaps for some reason he feels is related to your Ancestor?" she suggests.

Karkat stares blankly back. "My Ancestor and nine caegars can get me a vaguely historically accurate romance novel."

"Karkat," Kanaya says. "I don't know whether you're being prickly about your Ancestor or you really believe that."

"It can be both!" Karkat says. "It's not like I have any special rank or responsibilities. Isn't it even in his will? 'If I should have a Descendant or if such should still exist in the future generations, put no burdens on him he doesn't take up.' I mean I'm  pretty sure there was a whole thing about it."

Kanaya smiles at Karkat. "Maybe that's something you could bring up with him.

 Karkat snorts. "Right I'm sure that's going to go over well," he says. There's a certain amount of fussing and preparation before Karkat is judged presentable for his meeting. Despite Kanaya's best efforts, he's never had much in the way of formal attire. There are some festival clothes, casual clothes, clothes for socializing or meeting with his genitors. But nothing really formal.

Kanaya ends up putting him into his favorite black velvet divided skirt, bright red long sleeved tunic, and a darker red robe with a wide black fabric belt. Also included were low leather boots, and a veiled hat. His only jewelry are some steel rings, and an ear cuff. He arms himself with his electric dart device (concealed) and his sickle (very much not concealed). Kanaya of course, is already dressed and perfectly made up. Her colors are the traditional jade green and black, though with  accents of genetrix bright red. She has no obvious weapons, but Karkat knows she's carrying.

"Ready?" she asks. Karkat nods, and  they both head out the door. They're met at the ship by the Matre of the Caverns, and a huge indigo, obviously a Church deacon.

"Karkat," the Matre says by way of greeting. "And Kanaya."

"Matre," Karkat and Kanaya chorus, and give a salute. They give another salute to the deacon.

"All y'all follow me," the deacon says, and heads up  gangway of the ship.

The Matre heads up first behind the deacon, followed by Karkat, with Kanaya taking up the rear. The inside of the ship is decorated much the way the exterior is. Eyes and feathered wings and spirals in rainbow hues. There are more indigo crewmen, who step aside as they pass. Karkat can hear conversation, and music, many voices singing.

The deacon leads them down several passages, and into something between an office and a sitting block. There  are low chairs and multicolored cushions everywhere, and a small dais where the Grand Highblood is sitting on more cushions in front of a low desk with books and readers scattered everywhere, along with a high end computing device. He's huge, and his paint is strangely simple. Flat, blank white, which seems to mean something to the Matre, because she gasps.

The three of them start to bow, but the Grand Highblood waves. "Sit yourselves down," the Grand Highblood says. When they've done so, (with some hesitation) he continues with, "Let me give you the full debrief," he says. "My word to your ears. There were rumors of undocumented crew and false papers. It was the legislacerators game at first, thinking it was stolen eggs or stolen grubs and wigglers, subadults. But it turned to something more heinous. A high barrister brother was bribed with a genetrix, and being not an idiot called on the church. We took over and rooted them out."

"You found only three?" The Matre of the Cavern asked. It was an oddly blunt question.

“That's on me," the Grand Highblood says. "The traffickers killed most of them, trying to destroy evidence, like they thought we wouldn't wring the truth from them. There was just the oldest of the line, the one the oldest  locked himself in a bitty room with, and the wiggler given to the barrister."

As he speaks, there's movement by the Grand Highblood's lap, behind the table. What seemed like another pile of colorful cloth turns out to be a troll. An adult genetrix, with white hair wearing what looks like second hand Church motley. He's long limbed, and skinny instead of the usual blocky build of most genetrices, and if he were standing, would be almost as tall as the Grand Highblood. He blinks sleepily at them.  "Sup."

There is a look of unmistakable fondness on the Grand Highblood's face. "You went and fell asleep on me again, thinking I'm a relaxation platform."

"No, I'm being sultry as fuck," the genetrix says.

"More like a underfed purrbeast," the Grand Highblood says. "We're at the Cavern. These are all to being your kin." The gentrix's eyes flick from the Matre, to Kanaya and Karkat. "I'm Matre Markstar, the Matre of this Cavern," the Matre says. "This is Kanaya Maryam, and Karkat Vantas, how should we call you?" "

Dhuvid Straid," the genetrix says.

"We're still in pursuit of some of the traffickers, who went on with a whole cloning lab and canisters of frozen tissue, but the most of them we'll be handing them over," the Grand Highblood says. "All mostly in one piece."

The Cavern Matre bows where she sits. "We thank you for rescuing our charges."

The Grand Highblood's mouth tilts in a slanted smile that reveals the curves of his fangs. "All I did was do my duty toward the children of the Mother, didn't I?" he casts a glance toward Karkat, deep indigo-purple eyes have a certain gleam to them. "Clever motherfucker, your Ancestor," he says to Karkat. "We the last children of the mother have a duty to each other and the future He was all sneaky talking about the castes outside of his newly formed one. You have his miraculous way with words? You've been quiet enough."

"With all respect, Highblood, if you want an argument with my Ancestor, you should hire a necromancer," Karkat says in a flat tone. The Grand Highblood laughs quietly. "It's the Descendant I wanted a word with," he says. "I promised Dhuvid his kin would be safe and together, and I won't turn them over to anyone who'd keep them apart or harm them."

Matre Markstar looks momentarily offended by that,but she recovers. "Sir, are you implying you want Teacher Vantas to mentor or take custody of the genetrice line?"

"Sister, I want him to have the care of Dhuvid's little brothers," the Grand Highbllood. "As I promised him."  A beat. "There being a matter of serendipity between us, such that I would take over his care."

"Frail and wilting flower, that's me." Dhuvid says. "I need the gentlest and sweetest pale pity."

"You speak more true than you know, rattle bones," the Grand Highblood says, amused. "With your permit I'd get to doing that, jade sister. My Descendant's taking over the hunt for the traffickers and all Church duties so I settle Dhuvid in."

 "Accommodations may be arranged, Highblood," Markstar says. "I will have the Imperial suite prepared for you."

"I'll be put up with Dhuvid by wherever Vantas is," the Grand Highblood says.

"The genetrice apartments are separate from the genitor and admittance suites," Markstar says. "Genitors generally do not go there, for obvious reasons." "Quadrants and the genitors that take vows do," the Grand Highblood points out.  "I want to see where you'll be mewing up my diamond, and see all how you'll be treating him and his kin. I'll take whatever vows the genitors that don't leave do."

"That would mean you don't leave," Karkat blurts over whatever probably more polite version of "what the fuck," Markstar was about to voice. "It is not actually like Servitors of the Genetrices down in the genetrice apartments," Karkat says, naming a series of porn videos that everyone has been warned about. (Since genitors often got weird ideas, especially the older high caste trolls still around from the last Mothergrub's broods.) "The imperial suiteblock is supposed to be all fancy and shit, according to your station. Dhuvid and his line are probably going to be in the infirmary getting checked over before anyone gets moved anywhere, anyway."

"You think I don't know what I'm asking for?" The Grand Highblood asks, voice hard."I'll stay by him, where ever he's put up."

"Enduring great privations and all that shit," Dhuvid says. He's leaning up against the Highblood's side, and despite the bland tone, there's a certain amount of tension in his shoulders. "Boss, explain me a thing, what's this argument about?" a beat. "You said it was goinng to be safe here."

"So I did,"  Grand Highblood says. "And it is, there's just these little particulars."

[wildmanneredwoman]

knock knock, it’s autism spectrum

i have felt an urge to speak out about my asd diagnosis, and today is the day. it continues to shock me how few opportunities there are for people to learn and speak openly about the autism spectrum. let’s normalize being curious. how much do you actually know about the autism spectrum? open yourself up to new ideas. make room in your life to learn more about others. let’s talk.

asd: autism spectrum disorder asd is not a social disorder. it isn’t connected to any single cause. it is a neurodevelopmental disorder. asd does not have a “look,” or a set list of symptoms. if you consider two people with an asd diagnosis, there is a very high likelihood that they present that same diagnosis in two completely different ways. the efforts to understand the autism spectrum are ongoing, and therefore the definitions of autism continuously change (see: year 2013).

a diagnosis for asd DOES CONSIDER a person’s: degree of language/social difficulties degree of intellectual/physical impairment known medical conditions, exposure to environmental factors associated mental/behavioral/neurological disorders it is not a measure of their worth.

a diagnosis for asd DOES NOT IMPLY a person is: being socially dysfunctional in any obvious way a significantly high or low intelligence level major physical or emotional limitations neglect, abuse, poverty, inferiority it does not change who they are.

receiving an asd diagnosis CAN HELP COMFORT a person who is: struggling to understand social cues and implications generally clumsy and unaware of physical space having isolated interests/rigid plans/ritualistic behavior exhibiting adverse reactions to change it is essential to understand a person’s process as their own.

imagine you’re walking on the road in a small alley. you’re on the left side because you are helping a friend look for their key. someone is walking towards you, and they are walking on their right side. the closer you get, the more overwhelmed you become. and after working every scenario in your head, you give in and you cross the road, only to realize they never looked up once. this is the only way i can think to explain the burden of masking. neurotypical minds seek conformity. neurodivergent minds seek consistency. this makes it incredibly easy for a neurodivergent person to lose whatever feelings of autonomy are left. being in a position of self-perpetuation - where your ability to do task creates an outcome that controls the ability to do task - is masking. the very act of masking uses just as much energy as it receives. there is no carefree moment. you are anticipating bumping into someone, you gauge how close you can get, and you step out of the way before contact. there is no acknowledgement of your efforts. after all, if you were “normal” then you wouldn’t be in the way at all. there is a feeling of indebtedness. no one looks up. consider this: 60 years ago, state asylums were regularly performing lobotomies on the “criminally insane,” usually without anesthesia and almost always without consent. that is fucking terrifying. but you know what is even more terrifying? the fact that this practice stopped only when it was replaced with more convenient options, and is still technically legal. it’s not that america rushed to protect its disenfranchised the from becoming maimed, but rather the federal government rushed to protect its medicaid returns from becoming one-time surgical treatments. although most people would agree that we are far removed from that tragic relationship with psychosurgery. however, for perspective, i want to point out that the first evidence of neurosurgery goes all the way back to the stone age. it took 5,000 years to create not just the science itself, but to create the culture that watched its metamorphosis and anticipated the result. if i spent an hour putting up christmas decorations, how reasonable is it to then expect them to be taken down in 44 seconds, just because i am embarrassed to still have them up? we’re closer to falling backwards into systemic ableism than we are to securing our position away from it. 60 years is not even 1.5%.

one of my friends is a mother to a child with autism. they had their first flight together and her child absolutely lost it security. she was hoping that any of the parents around her would stop and help. completely alone, people shuffled by her, and one even made a comment about her parenting approach. what she wanted to say was that the approach was advised by their developmental specialist. but then she realized that she felt more than alone, but suddenly unsafe and targeted, and she didn’t want to feel victimized further.

asd is unique in that its cultural expectations aren’t aligned with its pathological expectations anymore. there are fewer and fewer limitations when it comes to inclusion and education. as a neurodiverse person, it is my responsibility to have compassion and patience. as a neurotypical person, there needs to be an increased expectations for self-education. people with asd are at your workplace, people with asd are in your family and amongst your friends, people with asd are undeniably going to be in your same airport.  three steps of beginning your shift of neurodivergence: 1. acknowledging the value of human diversity - culture, race, gender, etc. 2. understanding that neurodiversity is a natural component of human diversity. there is no “right” or “wrong” component of human diversity. it is all biological. 3. encouraging an inclusive dynamic, rejecting the expectations of “normal” and instead focusing on each individual’s potential, their gifts and their needs. those with asd are invaluable torch-holders for a new generation of social reform. the spectrum belongs in peer programs, on hospital floors, shaping public education, cultivating business startups. this existence is not defined by how much help i need to see something as it has already been seen. it is defined by what is seen after combining perspectives. the reason our eyes see dimension is because the right side and the left side make up for what the other one doesn’t have. imagine how much an entire spectrum can offer. if you are interested in learning more ways to create support and conversation in your community, please locate your local mental health first aid facilitator*. they are offering classes online at discounted rates due to the pandemic, and it will do nothing if not educate. it does earn ce credits and you receive a certification upon completion. thank you for coming to my ted talk! *not sponsored, just nerdy

[morrisondauthor]

“A Righteous Burden”

           The date July 22, 2009 is a date that I will never forget. It was a cloudy Wednesday afternoon and while I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to Pastor Ballard’s Bible study, I was excited about choir rehearsal because our choir director Mr. Hankinson had agreed to play a song that I composed myself. I’d been trying to get him to use one of my compositions since I began writing music. I wasn’t much of a gospel lyricist so Mr. Hankinson wrote words for the music, and they were amazing. I couldn’t wait to sing the song with the choir for the first time and I really couldn’t wait to sing it for the church that following Sunday. However, it wasn’t my music that made July 22, 2009 memorable. It turned out to be the day I experienced a miracle.

           “You’re not gonna change my mind,” Kareem said to me while putting on his Jordans. “I’m done with school, Ant.”

           “Why now?” I asked while looking at myself in the mirror to make sure my tie was on right. “Baby, why would you drop out of school right before our senior year?”

           “Because it’s pointless. I’m not goin’ to college or doin’ anything important so I don’t see why I should waste my time.”

           “So, being at school with me is a waste of your time?”

           “That ain’t what I meant and you know it. Anthony, I’m just done with that shit. I’m done with it. I’m a grown ass man. Fuck…I mean, forget school. I got other stuff I need to be worried about.”

           Kareem Taylor had been my boyfriend for a little over a year but we’d known each other since elementary school. He was my best friend up until sixth grade, which was when he began picking on me and hanging out with the bad boys at school. I later figured out he picked on me because he liked me and even though I liked him, too, neither of us built up the nerve to do anything about it until the end of our tenth-grade year. I wrote him a letter basically telling him that I wanted us to be boyfriends. He came to my house after school that day and gave me my first kiss. And just like that, we were together.

           “You mean like running the streets with Taz and your other wannabe gangster friends?” I asked him. “Is that the other stuff, Kareem?” When he looked away from me and shook his head, I reminded him, “None of your homeboys had your back when you got arrested last October. I had to beg my mama to bail you out.”

                                        Me (Anthony Tibbs)

           “You’re just gonna keep hittin’ me with that, huh?”

           “Yes, I am!”

           “Why are you yellin’ at me? I didn’t raise my voice at you so why are you doin’ it to me?”

           “Because I’m tired of you making the wrong decisions! It’s like I don’t even matter to you sometimes.”

           “Okay, you’re trippin’. When have I ever treated you like you don’t matter? You’re the one yellin’ at me and shit. We were just all cuddled up and kissin’ a lil’ while ago and now you’re sweatin’ me. Is this because we keep our thing on the low or somethin’?”

           “That has nothing to do with what I’m upset about. I’m upset because you would rather drop out of school and play wannabe gangster than finish your education and rise above that mess. After what happened to Ahmad…”

           “I’m not tryin’ to have this conversation right now.” He picked his cell phone up from my nightstand and put it in his pocket.

           I stood in my doorway to block him and said, “Kareem, if you love me then you’ll sit down and listen to what I have to say.”

           He stared at me for a while without saying anything and then let out a loud exhale before sitting down on my bed and saying, “I love you so I guess I don’t have a choice.”

                                               Kareem Taylor

           I sat down beside him and continued, “After Ahmad’s death, I feel like I lost a part of you. We could be watching TV together or eating or cuddling and sometimes it feels like I’m only with half of you. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a sibling because I’m an only child and I don’t want to make you upset, but I wish you would talk to me about what you’re feeling.”

           Kareem’s older brother Ahmad was murdered after he tried to stop some gang members from killing his best friend. The incident happened just two blocks away from my house and I was the person who broke the news to Kareem that night. We’d only been in our relationship for about a month when it happened. It was the first time I’d ever seen Kareem cry and I felt his pain the moment he felt it. I was there for him and I did my best to help him get through it but I knew my best wasn’t good enough. Ahmad took care of Kareem because their mother had a drug addiction and wasn’t home consistently. I always felt that Kareem lost himself when he lost his brother and it broke my heart.

           “What do you want me to say?” he asked me after a lengthy silence. “I miss my brother every second that goes by. I don’t like bringin’ him up because I don’t wanna bring you down.”

           “It won’t bring me down, Kareem.” I grabbed his hand before asking, “Do you ever cry when you’re not with me?”

           He got a little choked up as he answered, “Sometimes. The worst moments are when I hear his voice in my head and I’ll forget for just a moment that he’s gone. I cried so much that I threw up the last time that happened.”

           Tears began to build in my eyes as I squeezed on his hand and told him, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

           “It’s like I understand that he’s gone forever but I still expect him to come home for some reason. I feel like he’s still out there.” A tear forced its way down the left side of his face as he continued, “It wasn’t his time. I can’t see it any other way. He stayed out of trouble. He went to school and got his license to be a barber. You can’t convince me that it was his time to go.”

           I managed to keep myself together as I put my arm around him and told him, “I pray for Ahmad every time I think about him. And I pray for you, baby.”

           “I know you believe in that but…it doesn’t do anything for me. It won’t bring him back. I’m not sayin’ that to put down your beliefs. It’s how I feel.”

           “I know. But baby, you have to understand that life goes on. That’s why I pray for Ahmad.”

           He looked at me and said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

           “When we die, I believe our existence lives on in everything we ever saw, experienced, touched and loved. Your brother may not be here physically but he does still exist because you knew him your whole life and you’re here. You’re a direct witness to his existence and so am I. His friends knew him and they’re here. All of the people who knew him through the barbershop are still here. He has crossed over and I pray for him because it’s my way of letting him know I witnessed him while he was here physically and that I continue to witness his existence through you. Baby, I pray that he is at peace.”

           “I appreciate that but I don’t see it that way. The way I see it is three Lafayette Street niggas killed my brother and his best friend over some bullshit and today is the beginning.”

           “The beginning of what?”

           He wiped his eyes and replied, “Don’t even worry about it.”

           “Kareem, I know you’re not thinking about joining a gang, are you? Your brother wouldn’t want that. He was against violence and drug dealing!”

           “I ain’t him and I never will be.”

           “You can’t do this.”

           “I don’t have much of a choice. Nobody wants to speak up and tell the cops who did it. You said all those people who got their haircuts from my brother witnessed him, right? Well, I bet some of them know who killed him and they ain’t sayin’ shit.”

           “Kareem…”

           “No, Anthony. I’m doin’ this. Taz is already in OBF and so are a lot of the other niggas we’ve been hangin’ around. After I get jumped in today, I’ll be OBF, too.”

           “And what about us? Huh? Do you think I’m gonna be with you if you’re out robbing and killing people?”

           More tears filled his eyes and rolled down his face as he asked me calmly, “You’re gonna dump me?”

           “If you let those boys jump you and you call yourself a member of that gang, yes, I will be done with you.”

           “You just said you pray for me.”

           “I do and I always will but I don’t have to be with you to pray for your soul. I mean it, Kareem. I love you but I will not tolerate you being in a gang. Now, I am going to church for Bible study and choir rehearsal. First Lady Mary Louise Ballard will be serving dinner at seven-thirty. If you love me and you want to be with me, you’ll be at the church tonight for that dinner. If you’re not there…then I guess this will be last time I ever talk to you.”

           He continued to stare at me for a while and after wiping his tears away, he stood up and tried to hug me but I wouldn’t hug him. He quickly kissed two of his fingers and gently put them to my lips and then left my bedroom. I waited until I heard the front door to my house open and close before I allowed myself to cry. It took me a little while to pull myself back together but I did pull myself back together and I made it to Bible study on time. However, my mood was ruined by the time choir rehearsal began. All I could think about was Kareem. I just knew Mr. Hankinson was going to notice how off I was.

           “Anthony Tibbs,” he called out as he stopped playing the piano. “Are you purposely singing flat? Because if so, I’m going to need you to not do that.”

           “I’m sorry, sir,” I said.

           “This is your music, young man. You better sing to it the right way.” He looked at his watch and then told us, “It’s time for a break.”

           I stepped down from the choir platform and made my way over to him and asked quietly, “Can I ask you something personal, Mr. Hankinson?”

           “You know you can, child. You’re the only person who can talk to me about personal stuff.”

           “When you and Mr. Leverett have arguments, how do you work it out?”

           His eyes widened and a smile formed on his face as he asked me, “You and that boy had an argument? Aw, that’s so cute.”

           “It’s anything but cute.”

           “Child, all you can do is pray and hope that the Lord will pave a way. A lot of the hypocritical folk that attend this church will tell you that you shouldn’t have a boyfriend in the first place.” He laughed a little but got serious and asked me, “What did you argue about?”

           “He wants to do something very stupid and dangerous and I told him if he does it then we’re over. I shouldn’t have told him that, huh?”

           “No, you did the right thing. Anthony, you are young. You still have a year of high school left. You’re smart and you can sing your behind off. I’m not gonna tell you that you’re too young to be in love because that would be bad advice. But I can tell you that if he’s the one then he’ll realize he’s the one and he won’t do that stupid and dangerous thing you argued with him about.” He gave me a look and then asked, “Have you and him been…you know…active?”

           I blushed and told him, “We have and we’re safe.”

           “Good. Because I did not want to have to give you the talk after we leave here.”

           “So, you’re not going to lecture me anyway?”

           “Nope. As long as you respect yourself and he respects you, then I’m good. Just make sure you pray to the Lord for forgiveness.”

           “Wow, I would’ve thought you’d be the last person to say something like that.”

           “Not because you’re gay, child. Ask for forgiveness for having premarital sex. Don’t think just because it’s not legalized yet for our kind that it’s not a sin. Besides, it’s gonna be legal everywhere soon enough if Obama gets a second term.”

           I laughed and said, “Thank you, Mr. Hankinson.”

           “Mmm hmm, child. Now go ahead and work on that voice so we can get this rehearsal together.”

           “Yes, sir.”

           I loved that I could talk to Mr. Hankinson about being gay. Just like many other black churches in America, most attendees ignored the fact that their church had a gay choir director. Besides my mama and my grandma, Mr. Hankinson was the only person who knew about my relationship with Kareem. I learned a lot from him and his partner, Mr. Leverett. I was never ashamed of being gay but I was a little worried about how Christians viewed homosexuality until I had discussions with Mr. Hankinson and Mr. Leverett. They helped me understand the importance of following the actual teachings of Jesus and that no man’s word or judgment would ever overpower the word and judgment of God.

           While I was still worried about Kareem, I let what Mr. Hankinson said to me that day comfort me. I sang my song with the choir and then we rehearsed a few more songs before calling it a night and heading to the church’s reception hall to eat dinner. I made my plate and while pouring some sweet tea into one of the cups filled with ice on the table, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and when I saw it was a text message from Kareem, I took a moment to take in a deep breath and then exhaled. I opened the text and when I saw he wanted me to come outside, I ran out of there as fast as I could. And there he was standing at the bottom of the church steps. Judging by the fact that he didn’t have any bruises and was wearing the same clothes he’d had on at my house, I knew he hadn’t joined the gang.

           “I met up with Taz,” he said as he looked up the steps at me. “I started walkin’ with him towards the spot and…I saw this boy and his little brother over in the park. The little brother had scraped his knee and the big brother gave him a hug to keep him from cryin’. He didn’t tell him to toughen up and he didn’t yell at him. He gave him a hug. I swear it was like I was lookin’ at me and Ahmad. I just…” He got choked up but managed to continue, “I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it, baby.”

           “See, I told you, baby,” I said as I descended the steps. “Ahmad is still with you. He always will be.” I made it to him down on the sidewalk and hugged him. After a while, I pulled back and told him, “I love you, Kareem.”

           “I love you, too. Thank you, baby. I thought about everything you said to me earlier and you’re right. I can’t let my brother down because he never let me down. He wanted me to do somethin’ with my life like he was tryin’ to do, so I gotta do better. But baby, there’s somethin’ I still need to know.”

           “What is it?”

           He got choked up again as tears filled his eyes. He cleared his throat and then asked, “Are you gonna be here for me when I need you?”

           “Kareem, no matter what happens between us, I will always be here for you. I promise.” I hugged him again. After I wiped his tears away, I asked him, “Are you hungry?”

           He smiled and replied, “I’m very hungry.”

           “Well, let’s go inside so we can fix that. The First Lady cooked some chicken and rice and gravy…” I began walking back up the steps and he followed me.

           Looking back, that day truly was the turning point in our relationship. We were already close but we became closer that day. When that summer ended, we started our final year of high school. I talked him into talking to one of the counselors at the local free clinic and she was able to help him better deal with the trauma of losing his only brother to violence. He attended my church every Sunday and even sometimes on Bible study Wednesday. The more time we spent together each day, the more people caught on that we were more than friends. He lost a lot of his friends but he gained more by befriending the many people I was connected to. We graduated and moved down to Atlanta where I attended Georgia State University and he attended Atlanta Technical College while also working part-time in construction.

           It’s been ten years since that day and he and I have been married since 2015. We have a small but beautiful home in a decent Decatur neighborhood and even though I’m still paying on my student loan debt, we’re doing great financially. I’m an accountant for several small businesses, including Kareem’s growing construction business. He currently has twenty-five employees—twelve who are ex-convicts who needed employment—working for him. We have plans to one day buy a bigger house and adopt a kid or two but for now, we’re still enjoying each other like we did when we were teens.

           I wake up every morning thanking God for blessing me with the love of my life. And every day, no matter how hectic that day may be, I say a prayer for my husband and for his brother. Ahmad didn’t get to see how his love saved his little brother, but I let him know through my prayers that it wasn’t his burden anymore to look out for Kareem. He could rest easy knowing that the time he did spend on this earth was just enough for him to do what he was put here to do: take care of his baby brother and show him the power of unconditional love.

[Disclaimer]: Pictures used do not reflect the sexuality or personality of people in the pictures. They only serve as visual examples of the characters.

© D.A. Morrison 2019

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary -  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden.

Chapter 3 - Keep Moving

The spacious barn creaked lazily as the sounds of swearing and hammering overflowed its weather worn walls. It had been repurposed years ago, the old owners either long dead or moved out once the forest began to take over. As it was now it had been cleared of the twisting roots and oddly growing branches that had once threatened to consume it completely, now standing in a small clearing with a house beside it sitting just as pristine. The barn, though repaired, leaned slightly to the side, braced on an extension that housed a lab of sorts with one other room branching out that acted as cold storage.

The main room itself was currently where loud banging could be heard with the occasional swear sprinkled in as the owner tried valiantly to seperate pieces of plate metal from the skull of a fallen beast, eyes vacant and jaw slack as it sat on the table surrounded by already disassembled parts of itself scattered about and repurposed to varying degrees. Jars of different colored oily substances sat on a cart nearby, with empty ones still waiting to be filled. The hammer was thrown down suddenly, its owners pointed ears twitching in irritation as he dragged a hand down his face and took a breath. Sighing loudly, Logan turned and stalked off to the other end of the room to get a crow bar off the rack in hopes that his new method would work.

As he began trying to pry between plates he felt more than heard the halting footsteps outside the barn, though who it was was clearly trying his best to be quiet. Rolling his eyes Logan slammed the crowbar in a weak spot and pulled hard enough to bend the plate and send the bar snapping back to narrowly miss his face. He scowled as sweat dripped into his eyes, rolling his shoulders and gripping the tool with a white knuckled grip.

"It truly is a wonder you haven't killed yourself yet. To think of all that education going to waste with a cracked skull in an old barn, it's almost enough to make me care to check in more."

"The only reason you come in here is because I'm the only thing within a hundred mile radius who doesn't wish you dead on sight."

"How you wound me. It's at least two hundred when I'm far enough away from the coast." Logan smirked as he heard the irritated tap of the others cane punctuating his statement.

Sighing, he placed the crowbar on the bench and turned to face the intruder, leaning against it while crossing his arms. "Hyden."

"Logan." The other greeted mutually. Though he was typically a bit more put together his thick caplet lay crookedly across his tense shoulders, arms taunt as he leaned heavily on his cane with both hands resting on the top. His long hair curled in the afternoon humidity and Logan definitely didn't miss the slight furrow of his brows, though he knew he would be loathe to admit he was in any sort of pain.

Letting out a heavier sigh Logan pushed away from the bench and gestured for the other to follow him. "Join me, I need a break anyway."

Hyden gasped. "The head scientist admitting he needs a break? Who's hand do I need to shake for downloading an once of self preservation into that thick skull?"

"I'll have you know I take breaks on a regular basis, something you clearly need to be reminded of."

"The audacity! I walk all the way here to visit a long time friend-"

"You walked?" Logan shot him a sharp glance as he held the door, gesturing the other into the old farmhouse.

Waving away the concern, Hyden continued. "I flew most of the way don't worry. I only ducked below the treeline the last few miles so I wouldn't be followed, you're welcome for the concern and forethought."

Snorting, Logan pulled out a chair and moved to collect containers of herbs and thr kettle, sighing for the fourth time as it was blatantly ignored for the refrigerator. As the kettle heated he carefully measured out the proper ingredients, glancing over every now and again to try and catch what his guest was poking at.

"Are those by any chance agarose gels?"

Walking past the fridge to put things away he caught sight of what the other was observing, humming his confirmation.

"Logan, why do you have DNA gels next to leftover chicken salad in your refrigerator?"

"The chicken salad seems irrelevant." The kettle whistled to give him an excuse to avoid the question, carefully pouring out the boiling water.

"Logan."

"Hyden." The name slipped out easily despite his annoyance, making him wonder for a brief moment if he would struggle when he was finally told his real name.

The mans cane taps were heavier than normal as he made his way over to the table and flopped down without his usual show. Giving Logan a quiet thank you he proceeded to wrap his hands around the steaming mug, frowning in concentration. "Are you trying to find them again?"

"I fail to comprehend what you could possibly-"

"Because they're trying to find you. And they're getting close."

Logan was quiet as he sat, his wrapped hands folding somewhat painfully around his own drink. Pursing his lips he avoided looking at Hyden for a long moment, nevertheless feeling his gaze attempting to pick him apart. Arranging his expression to be carefully neutral he took a drink, smiling as the other did so as well.

"Make sure to drink all of it, it'll help with pain."

"Did you even listen to what I said?!" Throwing his hands up in exasperation he fixed Logan with his best glare.

"Hard not to with that grating tone."

"Well this grating tone," he growled out. "Is telling you to get your head out of your ass and maybe make sure you're safe before telling someone else to take care of themselves."

Logan dragged a hand down his face, suddenly tired. "Where exactly do you expect me to go? I'm so close to figuring out what they're using to power those things, if I move now I won't have any access to the equipment I need, no studies will be concluded, and nearly all of my experiments will be left behind to rot! I need more time."

"Time isn't exactly a luxury here. You're being stubborn and ignorant, as usual, and if you would just listen-" he stopped short as he caught the look the other was giving him, letting out a breath of defeat and softening his tone. "It doesn't have to be today. But it does have to be soon. I'll even come with you, help you scout out a new location if you'd like. I'm sure there's plenty to be found with a little digging."

Mugs empty save for the dregs silence rang between them as they lost themselves in thought. Distantly Logan was aware of the old grandfather clock ticking, suddenly thinking what a shame it would be to leave the sound behind. He knew the other was right even before he fully decided to voice it. Instead he quietly looked over at him, the scales that freckled his face gleaming with the last rays of the evening sunlight. If they were truly leaving, they would have to be careful. Though he knew Hyden was loathe to do so he could easily shift his appearance to hide his scales. Logan wouldn't be so lucky, his slightly off colored skin and pointed ears a dead give away to what his heritage was, even if he had defected from it when the war broke out. He was obviously fae, and that would do him no favors outside of the protection of his remote location.

But he really couldn't stay. If the guard was truly zeroing in on his location he would much rather abandon his research and try to pick it up wherever he could than even think about getting caught and wondering whether he could escape before he was undoubtedly punished for his crimes against his people. He shuddered uneasily as he stood, carefully avoiding eye contact as he took the mugs to the sink and began to wash them. He stared out the window towards the treeline as he did, having to squint to make out the weak protective barrier set around the perimeter by Hyden years ago. Beyond that lay dense forest only a madman would dare trek through.

Or fae guards with strict orders.

Squaring his shoulders before they could droop in defeat he turned to face his companion with a level stare.

"Give me two days."

-------

"Two more days? I thought the town was closer than that." Virgil irritably kicked a stone into the water, splattering the bottom of Roman's pants. They huffed in response, their frustration easily matching Virgil's as they shifted the pack on their shoulders.

"I said at most two more days, it might be sooner than that. We've never really been this far out before, which is a good thing but it means guessing the distance. Pouting isn't going to make it be any closer."

"Not pouting." Virgil pouted, crossing his arms before realizing what he was doing and angrily shoving them in his hoodie pockets.

Snorting with amusement Roman shifted the pack again before grunting and heaving it up and off their shoulder, immediately sagging in relief. Their burden was lifted further as Virgil tugged it out of their grasp and shouldered it easily, walking ahead while adjusting to the weight.

"Thank you."

"You were slowing us down. Somebody's gotta make sure we stay on schedule."

Roman squawked with indignation, jogging a bit to catch up with the emos longer gait. Their mouth thinned as they thought of how to bring up a concern they'd been thinking about for a while, gripping the straps of their pack tightly in apprehension.

"Alright. Spill it." They blinked as Virgil stopped, dropping both the packs and plopping down in the dirt.

"What?"

"Being anxious is my job and right now you're forcing me into unemployment. So either talk or I'm throwing you in the river."

"You do and I'm eating the last two cans of spaghettios tonight while you get nothing but croutons."

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "I fucking dare you to go through with that threat. You do not come between a man and the last can of shitty microwave pasta."

"I have the food pack."

"And I have the flint and steel so start talking before I decide to set you on fire instead of drowning you."

Unceremoniously flopping to the ground they let out an annoyed huff while shrugging off the back pack. "Fine. I've been thinking....that with this next town..maaaaybe finding another person or two to travel with would be in our best interests?"

The last half of the thought came out rushed and nearly incomprehensible but Roman could tell Virgil had heard them clearly as his face adopted a carefully neutral expression, hands twisting tightly in his lap.

"Roman..."

"I know! I know, I definitely get it. But, it would be easier to carry supplies and we could have more! We wouldn't have to stop in towns so much-"

"Roman."

"And it might be safer! More people means more weapons means more protection right?"

"Roman."

They shut their mouth in worry at the defeated tone Virgil had adopted. He twisted his hands tighter, hesitant to continue now that he actually could.

"Am I not....do you not feel safe enough with me?"

Roman sucked in a breath as they realized how Virgil had taken their concerns, rushing to try and fix it. "It's definitely not that! I-Virgil I'm so sorry that isn't what I meant at all!"

They leaned forward and began gently detangling his fingers from each other, holding them tightly once they finally managed it. "Anx it isn't like that. I honestly worry that you aren't safe enough with me. And once our load gets heavier with trading supplies we slow down and it never seems like we're on the road long enough before what little supplies we can carry run out. It was only a thought I wanted to discuss, not an attack on your skill as a fighter."

Their eyes met Virgil's and they breathed a sigh of relief when they were met with understanding, nonetheless continuing to rub soothing circles across his knuckles until he pulled away.

"I guess..." he glanced over at the near overflowing pack of trading goods. "I guess I can see that yeah. But I don't-Roman how can we trust anyone?"

"We probably can't. But we'll look anyway and if we don't find anyone then we don't find anyone. Just, keep an open mind?"

Crossing his arms Virgil looked away to stare out at the water instead, face drawn with apprehension. After a minute he ducked his head in defeat, nodding slowly and standing up. "Yeah. We'll keep a look out. But if we do find someone and after a while they start to act shady we drop them alright? No debate."

"No debate." Roman readily agreed as they stood as well. They began walking again, the silence much less tense than it had been all afternoon. Grinning a bit, Roman smacked their lips in thought. "With that delay it might be two and a half days now."

"Oh come on!"

This work is also available on AO3!

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[celinedgd]

The ugly AND beautiful sides of Autism Reposting because there’s too many people reblogging and faving the ugly sides one alone.  So here we go. (Also PLEASE feel free to add to the beautiful sides I’m begging you, help other autistics feel happier about their autistic selves.) The Ugly Sides; -Originally was going to post on DeviantART but changed my mind because I got too much shit on there to trust people. Not saying tumblr would be 100% better, but I know there’s a community on here and I had less if no bad experiences about advocacy in here so. Here we go.- In order to accept, you must also take notice of the bad sides of something. It will help you understand better and better manage those things. And thus I will talk about some of the bad, ugly sides of autism. Because it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, especially because of how other people treat us. It’s not all bad either though. And you must aknowledge this too. (TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of intense ableism, embarassing moments, mentions of functionning labels, mentions of abuse, mention of filicide and kamikaze/suicide, mentions of starvation, mentions of sexualization and sexual harassment.) But sometimes… Sometimes it’s having too many meltdowns in a row, or a shutdown at the wrong moment. (Advice for person who may be in presence of someone experiencing this; Be patient, if possible bring to a darker, quieter place, some water, a comfort object.) Sometimes it’s people not wanting to diagnose you, or vaccinate themselves or their kids because they would rather have a dead child than one like you, even though the anti-vaccine movement has been built on lies, an hoax debunked DECADES ago. (Self-diagnosis is okay. And vaccines work. Fucking. get. vaccinated. If your parents are anti-vaxxers, you can always find a way to get vaccinated another way.) It’s not necessarily having special skills that everyone will be mesmerized at, but being praised as superhuman when you do, and treated like garbage if you don’t. (Don’t worry, you don’t need special skills to be worthy of acceptance. Also, do not assume overcompetence or incompetence. Do not assume anything. Get to know the person and how they function and go from there.) It’s hurling insults around that you don’t understand are harmful or threatening to kill someone because it doesn’t sound that bad in your head, and everyone else is doing it, so it’s all right, right? (No it’s not. But if you encounter an autistic child yelling “I’m going to kill you!” , please try to understand that they are under extreme emotional turmoil. Be patient with them and explain as gently as possible that it’s not okay to threaten someone like that and perhaps why.) It’s having ‘caretakers’ saying how much you are a burden to them (you are not.) , it’s being too tired to function (though that might have to do with depression and anxiety more, sometimes you might experience too many things because of sensory overload for example. Or autistic burnout.) -In the same vein, it’s sensory issues and autistic burnout, it’s having you labeled as high-functionning or low-functionning depending on whether you can speak or not, and having your intelligence and capacities based on that, though it fluctuates sometimes. (your speech and your functions both.) It’s being so overwhelmed that you would hurt people you care about - you don’t mean it, really, it’s just a meltdown. People think they’re temper tantrums and thus that you are panicking on purpose, but they are not. - because you can’t see what you’re doing, and it’s made worse by your own parents filming you and showing you at your most vulnerable moment to complain about you, or having them laugh at you and being afraid that people would take it the wrong way if they saw you acting like this because what would they think? It’s not understanding your own body and for some of us, it might be feeling something a little too late, and being treated like a baby or a dog or worse. It’s banging your head on the wall to make the pain stop. It’s being lonely and feeling like you don’t belong, because no one understands, no one TRIES to understand, and you try so hard to do what you must to live, to perhaps fit in (you won’t though, no need to try. Just be yourself and you’ll find the right people to be with.) , and sometimes you feel like that because you feel like you have never been taught how to better be your autistic self because the world is full of allistics and you had no autistic mentor to tell you how it is, why you feel this or that way and why does THIS person do THAT, so you try to blend in and be with allistics, but they find you too weird. It’s not understanding what people around you say about you because they don’t care to make you understand or they don’t want to try harder. It’s having your own damn parents think it would be better if they sacrificed themselves with you, jumped over a bridge so the world wouldn’t have to “suffer” your presence or have to “deal” with you. It’s allistics telling us we are either angels or demons and creating wars where they don’t exist between us so there is this false sense of supremacy and distance between our “Types”. Having to explain that you’re not perfect and you don’t have to be, but people don’t understand. It’s starving yourself sometimes either because of texture sensitivity or depression, or both. It’s being starved for attention, but not being sure who to approach to talk about your special interests with and being afraid you’re a bother to anyone you do this constantly with. It’s not being able to trust people, because too many people left. Sometimes, it’s being a woman, and thus overly sexualized, but once people learn that you are autistic, it’s being desexualized and infantilized, or being told “It’s okay, I still want to fuck you.” and that you’re “easy”. It’s having people speak for you so much that you end up not knowing what to say yourself or how to make decisions by yourself. It’s having sleepless nights because you are crying so much over how you will survive in this world. It’s you trying to get a diagnosis but having people say don’t exagerate, you’re not that dumb, or that girls or PoC cannot be autistic. It’s having people use your neurotype as an insult. It’s not being sure who to listen to when it comes to advocacy and not knowing enough or being brave enough to speak for yourself and others like you. It’s seeing characters that are so stereotyped it’s not even subtle. And so much more. There are ugly sides to autism, but acceptance starts when you can accept not only the pretty sides to it, but also the ugly, and put a term to the bad things you did to us, taking responsibility. -------------------------- The Beautiful Sides; Because someone reblogged the “ugly sides” one thanking me because they wanted a way to tell people why they hated being autistic. And that made me sad. So I decided to make one for the beautiful sides. And that, too, can educate people, anyway. Now, I am only 23, and I am still learning about myself and what it means to be autistic. I did not have autistic mentors to teach me. The good thing is the community. See? That’s already one beautiful thing. Now let’s see… What are the Beautiful Sides of Autism? -It’s having special interests; Being so passionate about something that it makes you smile and gives you life, and makes your eyes sparkle with glee! -For some, like me, it’s a big sense of empathy, being able to see things through everyone’s points of views (well, almost everyone’s.) and making for a compassion so grand that it encompasses a lot in your life, makes you want to be a better person and spread kindness just to see people smile. (Low-empathy autistics are valid too, though. Much love to you!) -It’s stimming! Feeling things in ways that allistics could never even dream of. (No beef against you if you have none against us though.) -It’s the smiling faces even through all the pain that we’ve gone through. -It’s the happy echolalia when one of your favorite character says something funny, or when you love the way a word sounds. -It’s the brave and mighty who fight for us, knowing that we are loved; the solidarity and the community, picking each other up when we fall. -For some of us it’s those special skills that we pick up that amaze people and and the wonder in their eyes. (No worries, even if you don’t have a special skill, you are ALSO valid and loved and worthy of life. Much love to you!) -It’s seeing things a different way, thus helping others see things they might not have seen the way we do. -It’s finding the opportunity to make a joke, even when it’s a terrible pun. -It’s knowing how to find the perfect gift for a friend or loved one because you pay particular attention to people’s interests. -It’s simply being YOU. And it’s so much more than you might think. Okay to reblog for all. May Peace always find its way to your heart and may you find love for your beautiful, autistic self.

[blushingjared]

Maybe Someday

Maybe Someday (Single Father! Human! Castiel x Reader)

Square(s) Filled: Friends to Lovers for @spnkinkbingo and Friends to Lovers for @goodthingshappenbingo Ship: Single Father! Castiel x Reader Characters: Single Father! Human! Castiel, Reader, OFC! Amelia (Castiel’s Ex-Wife), West and Maison Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut (fingering, grinding, cum everywhere), Angst, Fluff, Adorable Children Word Count: 3K (beta’d by me, all mistakes are mine)

Summary:  Being friends with someone like Castiel is hard, pretending that you only want to be friends with him is even harder. Especially now that he’s single again.

We Get What We Deserve

A/N:  Castiel’s kids are named West and Maison cause I love them and he works at Random Acts in the fic. This was originally a Misha x Reader series but it was causing problems for my over all fanfic this is in. So if you see “Misha” instead of Cas, lemme know. Also let me know if you want to be tagged in my SPN Kink Bingo Series. 

“Castiel?” You called out, boots stomping onto the rug by the door. Snow had coated you entirely, it had been a miracle that you had made it Castiel’s house in the first place. “Castiel? Anybody home?” No one answered you, forcing you to yell louder. “Castiel Novak!”

Instead of Castiel, you got West, the boy running past you naked into the play room. Followed behind by the man you’d been trying to get the attention of. “Hey Y/n!” Both of them called out as they ran past you. “Be with you in a minute!”  Castiel cried as he ran after his son.

You laughed softly as you stripped off your jacket and scarf, toeing off your boots and setting them all to the side. Living in Washington required the heavy layers constantly during the winter months. Without them, you’d be left frozen to the bone and soaking wet most days.

Castiel. It had never been just a normal friendship with him.

Castiel had gone to college with you years ago. You’d been pretty good friends despite being in different majors. While he had been called to the Business program, you had been called to the Education department. And where you had been called to love him, Castiel had been called to Amelia.

Amelia had been in the Business program with Castiel and while you truly did want him to be happy, Amelia just wasn’t who you saw him getting with. Maybe a part, okay a large part, of you had thought he would have gotten together with you. That you would be the one in the white dress walking down the isle.

You were fine though. You promised yourself that you would bury those feelings because one thing you promised to never do was ruin a marriage. A part of you wished you had grown the balls to admit what you felt for him before he’d fallen in love with someone else.

It didn’t matter though, Castiel was your Best Friend and you would do absolutely anything for him. You were there for the wedding, for West’s birth and for Maison’s, and for the big move he took out to Washington for Castiel’s not for profit company that he’d started. Castiel even helped you move across the country just to stay close to him.

Watching him be happy with a family of his own was the only thing that had helped you move on. It was easier after that.

Boyfriends would come and go through out your life but there wasn’t one that would stick. None of them seemed to be all that comfortable with the fact that your best friend had been a man and Castiel never fully approved of any of them.

Things had changed in recent years though, Amelia had been home less often. Which prompted Castiel to ask you to be even more involved in his children’s lives. Taking care of them while Castiel “helped saved the world” as West would put it.

You never would have expected that Amelia had been away from her family because she’d been seeing another man. Castiel would never express to you just how hurt he had been the day he found our. It just wasn’t his style; he wasn’t one to burden people with his own emotions.

Despite Amelia’s infidelity, he begged her to stay, for their two children, for the love that he felt they still had. She didn’t care though, she’d left and you were there to pick up the pieces of your best friends heart.

The one good thing about it all was that West and Maison had been too young to really understand everything that had been going on. Since then, you spent almost everyday at their house taking care of the kids (and Cas when he would let you).

Castiel finally walked back into the foyer, bringing you out of your thoughts. West now dressed in pajama’s and on his father’s shoulders. “Glad to see you could make it to mystery dinner night.” He smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. A warmth blossomed through you and made its way to your cheeks. Thank god they were already red from the coldness of outside and would be unnoticeable.

“Yeah. It’s always better with you Y/n.” West cheered and reached down mess with his fathers ears. Maison made her way into the room as well and attached herself to your legs. “Y/n!” She cried and looked up at you.

“I sure am hungry. What about you guys?” You beam at the each of them and take noble into the kitchen with Maison still on your leg as you all walk into the kitchen to the right. Overflowing bags of food sit atop the counters; West ushers you and his father over to the kitchen table.

“Sittttttttttttt.” He groans, frowning as he pulls out both chairs and guides you into the seat. Castiel on the other hand, decides to use some of his strength to push back on West. “Daaaaaaaaaaadddddddd.” West whines as Castiel smiles down at his son.

“What? C’mon, let us help you. Why should you two get all the fun?” Castiel looks to you, but you shake your head and raise your hands up, not wanting to associate with that statement.

“Oh no, you’re on your own with that one Cas. Mystery Dinner isn’t fun when we help.” You grin at him and Castiel gives up and plops himself into the chair.

“Thanks Mom!” West grins and runs away, not knowing what he’s really said. Your eyes widened a bit as he calls you his…Mom. Castiel and you share a look between each other. It was hard to hear, they thought that you were their mom. You knew he’d been trying to get his kids to stop calling you that. It didn’t seem to matter. You were there, always, Amelia was not. It was totally normal for them to assume you were their mom.

“Y/N, you know-“ Castiel started but you shook your head slightly, not wanting to hear about it. By now, you’d learned to accept it and let West and Maison call you what was only natural to them.

“So, Cas? How’s Random Acts?” The sudden change of topic was needed. Castiel would have continued to try and pester you about what was going on. “I know you’re getting ready to go to LA for some publicity work.”

Castiel smiled weakly and looked into your eyes and titled his head. “Yeah. You know, my offer still stands. You should come with us.”

“You know I can’t leave my job, my students need me. They’re not going to be happy that I just, left.” Castiel’s face fell for a moment before going back to that easy going smile you loved.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just the first trip with the kids without Amelia. It’ll be hard doing it alone. They’ll miss you like crazy.” Castiel leaned forwards, moving ever so closer towards you.

“They’ll be fine. You can just call me if they ever wanna talk.” Your eyes landed on Castiel’s hand as he reached forward to grab onto your own. He tipped your head up, making you unable to look away from him.

“I’ll miss you.” Castiel breathed. Unknowingly, the two of you had begun to lean forwards, getting closer and closer to one another.

“Cas, what about..” Words escaped you as the pad of his thumb brushed over your cheek.

“Y/N.” Castiel breathed your name out and just as he was about to go in all the way, Maison and West’s voice brought you back.

“Oops..” The two of them said in unison.  West must have dropped something because a loud clatter sounded behind the kitchen island.You stood up and giggled as spaghetti sauce covered the two of them. A large pot lying on the side of the floor. It was hard to hold back a laugh as the two of them had become covered in sauce. Both of your hands lifted up to your mouth and you struggled not to laugh.

“Oh no..” You giggled and bit at your lower lip. Castiel made his way over and sighed weakly as he saw them. Sitting down in the tomato sauce, Maison giggled as she laid down and made “tomato sauce angels”. Your eyes widened and you did your best to stop her as West soon followed his sister.

“Cmon Mom! Join us.” While a pain of guilt hit your chest, you let yourself be dragged down by them and onto the floor. Unable to stop his smile, Castiel shakes his head and smirks as he smears some of the sauce over your face.

You gape at him before narrowing your eyes and smearing sauce over his shirt. “I’ve been hit!” He cries and flops onto the floor and both kids crawl onto their father and sit on him. He releases a pained ‘oof’ as they all laugh.

An uncontrollable surge of sadness courses through you. It’s hard to stop as tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. You feel so out of place in this moment. Every time the kids call you mom, the moment you’d had with Castiel, the way this all felt like you’d always been their family. You weren’t their mom and you weren’t with Castiel.

When Castiel finally noticed how upset you looked, he gently nudged his children off of him and stood up. Even covered in tomato sauce, he still looked as gorgeous as ever. “Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay?” He questioned, taking a tentative step towards you.

No. No I’m fucking not.

Clearing your throat you said something to the affect of, “I need a minute.” And headed off to the bathroom closest to you. Castiel followed behind you and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. He would jiggle it a couple times in between knocking and begging you to open the door. Nothing worked though. At some point, he gave up and you realized that you’d become exhausted from crying and fell asleep.

Once you woke up, you felt the stickiness clinging to your body and decided a shower was certainly needed. After you finished, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights had been turned off and the house had become eerily quiet. Looking back down at your  phone, you sighed as you saw you’d been asleep for a good three hours.

“Shit.” It was too late to drive home and most of your body was still clinging to sleep. You moved to the steps but before you could really get anywhere, Castiel’s voice called through the living room.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

Part of you knew that it was a bad idea to go back and talk to him, but you also couldn’t avoid him forever. So, the rational part of your brain won and you headed to him. Sitting on the couch, he had his arm draped over the side of it; an open beer in his other hand.

He gave you a lop sided smile, easing you instantly. Sliding to the edge, he patted his hand against the couch, silently asking you to join him. He’d been watching something, but you couldn’t tell what since the credits were rolling.

“Cmon. Sit down.” Castiel looks up at you, those bright baby blue’s calling out to you. You can’t bring yourself to come closer, afraid that by mere proximity you might accomplish something stupid. Like admit your feelings for him.

Of course, you sitting beside him wasn’t the point. He stood up and began to walk towards you. Fear once again coursed through you, making you step back. Castiel followed you and the two of you continued this dance. While he moved closer, you stepped back. It was too late for you to notice he’d been purposefully backing you into a corner.

“What happened tonight? Why did you freak out?” He asked as your back collided against the wall. Your eyes squeezed shut tightly as you hoped to simply disappear.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I really just want to borrow your couch and sle-“ Soon Castiel began to lean forwards, his head tilting downwards. Making sure his lips were hovering right over yours.

“Y/N. I don’t wanna fight it. I don’t want to have to worry about ruining our friendship because we won’t work. I already know we will.” He looked down at your lips and they formed a silent ‘o’ as he did. “All these years…I’m tired of dancing around what we feel towards each other.”

And then, he kissed you. Castiel  pushed in the rest of the way and brought his lips to yours. Once your eyes closed, his hand moved up and cupped the back of your head. He cradled you, holding you as if you were some precious thing.

“I love you.” It wasn’t on purpose but the two of you had pulled away in unison, only to say it to each other at the same moment. The words lingered, surrounding you two and fueled the passion that quickly sparked between you.

While his kiss was gentle at first, it didn’t stay that way. His hands slid down and raised them over your head, pressing you into the wall. After he was satisfied you couldn’t pull out of his grip, his lips kissed along your cheek and jaw. Moving behind your ear to whisper, “Did you mean it?’

Soft fingers move up under your t-shirt, skimming over the smooth skin he knew was hidden underneath. “Yes.” You sigh, aching to feel more than just feather light touches. “I love you Castiel Novak.” A gasp escapes you as he dips his hand below the waistline of your pants.

“Good..” He growls and flips you around, pressing your front end against the wall as your cheek smooshes against it too. The position wasn’t the most comfortable but it wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. Not when Castiel was pushing your sweats down to the floor.

You arched your back slightly and pressed your ass out to him. God, you were aching for him to touch you. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you baby girl.” Head tipping back to rest on his shoulder, his lips dragged along your collarbone. Soft and thick fingers dug into the fabric of your underwear.

He dug the tips of his fingertips into the cotton material of your store bought panties. “O-Oh..” Castiel dragged a moan of pleasure from you as he found your clit. With a sickening desire, he made sure to abuse the nub of pleasure, constantly sending you reeling back from the pleasure.

Realizing this only required one hand, Castiel pushed his free one underneath the t-shirt. He moaned softly as he squeezed at your chest. Unable to control himself, his hips pressed against yours. His erection sliding between your cheeks. “Go-god, Cas. Please. J-just fuck me.”

All the grinding was making you anxious and eager to feel him inside you. He was holding back though and he didn’t grant your request. Sliding the material of your underwear to the side, he slid a digit through the collecting slick between your folds. Heavy pants and small whimpers fell from your mouth as you continued to beg for more, all of him but still, Castiel continued to tease.

After you had become too loud, he forced the hand that had been on your chest over your mouth to cover your noises. Drool collected and small drips of saliva from your mouth fell through the cracks of his fingers. “Ugh..” You swooned as he finally breeched a finger past your entrance. You hadn’t even noticed him do it, but somehow Castiel had taken off his own sweats.

Wetness from where pre-cum had leaked onto his boxers rubbed along the back of your thighs. “Want to do it right…not like this.” He breathed, although you didn’t understand what he meant. The finger that was inside you curled as it moved in and out at a slow and dragging pace. If you’d been able to push against him for more you would have.

A second finger joined the first inside your heat, slick dripping down your thigh and onto his hand. It was too much, you were close to cuming from practically nothing. Once he added the heel of his palm to mash against your clit, you were gone, tumbling over the edge and crying out into the palm he had against your mouth.

You gasped as you felt Castiel push his boxers off his waist and slide his cock freely between the flesh of your cheeks. Like yourself, he hadn’t needed much before he reached his own release. Coating your back with cum, you sagged into his arms. It was a miracle that you were still standing honestly.

As soon as you’d got your breath, you turned to look up at Castiel. He smiled back down at you and leaned forwards to press another sweet kiss to your lips. It was hard to contain the smile that the kiss brought to your lips.

“As much as I wanted to give in to you. You deserve a special first time with me.” You snorted at his arrogance, but knew he was really trying to be sweet. Waiting for the right time was something you’d been doing for awhile. “Are you tired?” He asked and helped slide your clothes back onto your body.

“You are pretty exhausting to be around.” Though you were partially joking, you were exhausted once again. As soon as you told him, he was lifting you up off your feet and bringing you upstairs bridal style

“I know. I’ll try to keep my massive ego it to a minimum though.” He dropped you onto the master bed gently. The lights cut off and it was just the two of you alone and in his bed. You knew when you woke up, that he’d still be there. This wasn’t just one great wet dream.

Castiel had fallen for you and he’d want you just as badly as you had for all these years.

Castiel stumbled and dropped to the floor as the dream passed over him. Despite the fact that angels don't sleep, he laid on the floor for almost an hour before the dream seemed to end. His eyes lingered on the ceiling for a moment before the angel gained his composure and was able to stand back up.

Confusion and lust clouded his thoughts and made it harder to focus on the problem at hand. Who was that girl? Why did she appear in a dream to him. Part of Castiel had begun to wish that he had been able to stay inside the dream with the girl. A sense of belonging had overwhelmed him, more so than anything else he'd felt before.

Shame colored his face, a human emotion he hadn't felt since years before as a full blown human. Perhaps, he was weaker now without heaven, becoming susceptible to human thoughts. He hoped it would pass.

Tags: @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @timeless-crow @musiclovinchic93 @tarot--thot @lovinghunty

[honeyfreckled]

we have talked a few times and im sorry for this but you are the most accepting and easiest person to talk to honestly i dont have many people in my life i can tell anything real to. but the thing is ive been thinging about relapsing a lot more since i broke up with my boyfriend and i work with him so it makes work depressing and impossible to get through a day without crying sorry this is anon but i am scared ily dont hate me i am not trying to stress you out

ok wow first lemme just say: I DO NOT HATE U. EVER. 

and don’t be srry i don’t have a lotta ppl irl i can tell my shit to so i get it. pls know u can always ALWAYS ALWAYS come to me, and u dont gotta be scared to come off anon. i get it and it’s ok if u prefer it that way- but pls know i dont keep it on alot bc i get hate and then i turn it off bc i gotta look out for myself and dont post all the hate bc i dont wanna bring yall down or give them the satisfaction of knowing i have given it a read and response. so u can message me or make a sideblog or idk im just saying this so if it’s off later u dont blame yrself or feel scared to come off anon. ok sorelapse is a real thing and it’s fucked and hard and addiction is fucked up and a real life struggle and we dont treat addicts w the real tenderness, respect, kindness, and acceptance they deserve. but u DO deserve it. and there are hotlines, apps, churches, groups, chatrooms/boards, and sites that are more versed in what are the appropriate things to say to u- i say this bc while i’ve been thru it w loved ones i have not myself struggled w addiction w substances. my addictions were to self harm and victimhood so those are the things i searched for help on. but if it’s alright i’d like to give u some tips or things i used and have heard work for addicts of substances

places like i said like churches, groups, chatrooms, sites, apps, hotlines the apps and hotlines are good if u cant travel or want to talk to ppl who wont share their story bc maybe u cant hear it like its not the kinda help ur looking for. hotlines are sometimes tricky bc some of those folks are not educated they are volunteers so judgment leaks thru and in that case u ask to be redirected and report that volunteer so hopefully they dont repeat that kinda mess to other vulnerable folks looking for help

make a list of things, anything. list of foods u like to order, list of things that make u clench yr teeth, what were yr fave gifts you’ve ever got, style icons of urs, hobbies u tried that annoyed u, movies u can always watch, places on yr skin u hate being touched, any list of anything it doesnt have to be the usual thing of “what to live for” bc when yr depressed those kinds of things arent easy to think of. but if u get a list going of like “best things ive ever touched” “sounds that make me laugh” “trends that were stupid af” “popular things that i didnt like n couldnt figure out why they were popular” “weirdest ppl ive met” well those things might get u on a roll of good memories or laughing or seeing that theres more to yr life than what has been occupying yr thoughts

dancing. dance in yr room in the dark. clear some space. put on some headphones. lock yr door. do it in the shower. just dance. i had to start w closing my eyes and picking songs that i was taken by emotionally. songs that made me jump and slamdance tbh and then it’s just gotten more and more something im not as ashamed w. i spent a date night w james just dancing and then we ya know ya know bc the dancing got so wild. now i make playlists of songs that set moods for diff kinds of dancing

watch shows w ppl who arent doing better than u. they dont live in fancy places, they dont do much w their lives, they dont dress better than u, they struggle, they arent eating good food u dont have access to. iasip. freaks and geeks. letterkenny. undeclared. jake and amir. tpb. the state. youtube. tiktok/vine comps. lots of these kinds of vibes on youtube

podcasts. improv comedy podcasts tbh saved my life. comedy bang! bang! has best of’s those are good ones to start w. improv4humans bc matt besser has great guests of some of the best improvisers out there and he has musical guests and they’ll play a song and the improvisers will use it as inspo for a scene

make things. moodboards. pinterest. playlists. fill a shopping cart and tell yrself “i’ll get it when i win the lotto and move away from anyone who knows me so i can be the me i wanna be w/out judgement” make tea. make a meal if u can. make yr bed. clean one thing. clean the sink. hang some clothes or go thru yr drawers and clean them out. throwing things out feels hard at first but then it’s nice bc u feel less bogged down

find something to throw yr obsession at for a bit. something that wont hurt u as bad, being obsessed in general isnt good. everything in moderation irl. too much of something is bad just as much as too less of it can be bad. but yr looking for something lower risk here and if u gotta be obsessed w a celeb or a song or a food that’s ok. yr focusing the energy on something that isnt a substance so be proud of it

give yrself a break. give yrself some credit. everyday isnt gonna be on the “best of your name here’s days” but sometimes u just live to live bc that’s what u do. u wait it out and get thru it and wait for the sun to come back out. and if u cant get outta bed. or if you hate yr job and wanna scream- that’s normal it’s more normal than always being happy ppl just dont like talking abt bc society kinda trains us to hide our fucked upness idk why but thats how it is. they dont wanna tell us to do preventative care until we’re in the pits

all in all- it comes down to (at least for me) not planning w an endgoal in mind. it’s not over til it’s over and rlly we dont know. it’s all fluctuating and not meant to be a finish line we cross and then suddenly we’re done and we dont suffer anymore and the feeling of shit is gone or the risk of relapse is gone and the depression is cleared away never to be seen again. it’s not realistic. bc it isnt real. on the real- risk is always there and the downs and ups mix and run together and depression is not curable (this isnt something to be miserable over tho) depression isnt curable, yeah ok, but it is manageable. it can be quieted down from time to time and if u keep up w yr healthy routines and coping mechanisms- depression will still find its way to u bc the real world is not something u can manage. death in the family, loss of money or job, car breaking down, sickness outta nowhere, depression grows wild when these very real life stressors come into our lives. but all that too eventually gets easier and easier at least from a “ok i have some distance now” standpoint. and then as those days get more and more btwn it u can then be like “oh wow, ive made it thru X amount of days! ive put up w it this long! whats one more day, whats one more week, hell might as well see how much prouder i can feel once ive got a year under my belt!” plus u will be more capable of handling the bullshit if u know u can still find some safe places in yr coping skills or friends or resources.

ok so this is prob a mess but bottomline know this:

I love  you and i will be here the best i can should u ever wanna come spill or if u need me to just send u pics of my dog or boring pics of knickknacks or selfies or memes or links or anything just tell me what u need and i will try my best to show u my love. i hope u can see that u reaching out is just already a HUGE major step in the right direction, give yrself credit! thats amazing! yr already doing it pumpkin look at u! it’s hard ik. but i also know if u are capable of saying u have this problem going on, u are capable of getting thru this. u are a light in the world. u offer goodness and u offer yrself and that’s enough. even if yr fucked up right now- u are contributing to the world by simply being u. there is literally NO ONE ELSE WHO IS YOU. so u are unique by definition. i hope u get something from this post and if not i hope it strikes an idea or thing u can do that will help. i hope u know im here and i hope u see this.

i am sending u all my light and love and good vibes and i can’t wait to see or hear from u again. u are never bothering me, a burden, or stressing me out. tbh it stresses me more that u might be struggling and not telling me or anyone. i dont ever want u to suffer in silence bc u feel guilt or scared or anything. u deserve to have a place to voice yr shit. im here to listen if u do wanna tell me anymore.

everyone else-if this helped or if u can think of anything that might help anon or anyone else- feel free to reblog and get some good NONJUDGMENTAL advice or tips and tricks going, but please please please remember to not come off as judgey or flood it with your drama. keep ur drama out of this post so anon or anyone else doesn’t get triggered by it. 

and dont ignore my rule and do it anyway and then say some shit like “ik u said not to but i think this will help lol sorry” like we need this post to stay on this vibe that i set in motion and not a struggle contest or dick measuring or all sad personal reminiscing. go make yr own post for that this is NOT the space.

[lostonehero]

A split

Lazarus read the note again, his mom is working again so he had to make dinner alone. She probably wouldn't be back until he was asleep even then she would be at her second job before he woke up for school. She worked too hard for this shithole of a place.

His father well he never met him. His mother was raped and that's how he came to be. His mother was an amazing women she gave up everything for him because she was pregnant out of wedlock. She would tell him so many amazing stories of her old family and how she missed them, but she can't go back because of him.

This hurt him but his mom never blamed him nor harmed him. He just felt the weight of that burden even if nobody told him he should. He removed his eyepatch showing off a black eye where the white should be and a yellow snake eye glowing against the black. Mom says he is a half ghoul which she says was impossible so she calls him a miracle. She even help trains him to control the inhuman abilities.

He finished making his mother's day card filled with a essay of why she is an amazing mother. Leaving her favorite chocolates on the card before heading off to bed.

.....

Lazarus stared at his bedroom ceiling with unease settling in his stomach. He was going to a special summer school for people like him as a precursor for college. His mother kept going on about how he will meet people like himself. He had no idea what that meant but she was really excited for him, and it will help pay for college. That made him excited because his mom didn't have to work so hard.

......

It wasn't even a bus it was a hearse that stopped in front of his house.

"Have a nice summer remember to write and don't forget to tell them what you need to eat I love you Lazarus." His mom said trying not to be seen by the driver. "Oh don't forget the extra eyepatch I got you and I packed you something special."

Lazarus could only smile as he nods and he hugs his mom. "I will never understand why you hide from this stuff. Love you mom."

Lazarus walks out and enters the hearse with a suitcase in hand and his note that he hands to the driver. He removes his eyepatch to show off what he is.

The driver looks at Lazarus in pure shock. "I thought they were fucking with me. I will tell the headmaster that you are for real." The driver says pointing to the seats that Lazarus sits in. The hearse driver mumbles "half ghoul wow I might ass well be in heaven I've seen everything."

Lazarus sits next to a princely fellow tieing his eyepatch back on as the man looks at him in shock.

"You're a half ghoul, your in my prophecy." The prince guy says.

A much more disheveled prince guy jumps to look over the seat. "Looks like you're getting hitched Roman didn't think it was possible."

"Oh shut it Remus you're suppose to marry a demon." The prince guy Roman says.

Lazarus stays quiet not knowing what to say.

"You know where we're going right?" Remus asks.

Lazarus looks up. "A summer school for monsters?"

"YES"

"NO Remus it's an educational training facility for beings other then pure humans. It's a training on how to blend in with humanity and how to be associated with hunters as not to be killed its require if you want to live with humans." Roman huffs.

"But I already live with humans this is paying for my college." Lazarus responds.

"Wait you already live among humans? What's it like? We've never left our kingdom Oh right I'm Roman that's Remus we're fae princes and we're going to live with humans for a long while until we marry or just decide to go home." Roman says smiling

Lazarus shrugs "I dunno hopefully this is better."

.........

Lazarus ended up rooming with Roman after the headmaster passed out realizing he was a half ghoul. He was thankful since Roman he already kind of knew him, his brother got paired with a guy with really thick glasses and two other people he wasn't paying attention to.

He was setting up his room and placed a picture of him and his mother on his desk as he finished laying on his black and gold checkered bed. He was growing uncomfortable with Roman gawking at him.

"You didn't use any magic. How did you do that?" Roman asks amazed.

Lazarus blinked obviously confused. "What? That's how I normally make my bed and put things away."

"Can you teach me? I've never done things the human way." Roman looks at Lazarus with eyes filled with curiosity.

Lazarus nodded and began to teach.

.......

It's been a month and he got his first letter from his mom.

"Hey sweetie how are you? Sorry for taking so long to respond things came up, you'll understand when you get home. Anyways this Roman guy you keep going on about sounds amazing you should bring him home for dinner. You made other friends too Logan Remus Patton and Virgil they all sound nice. Oh make sure Patton eats before a full moon it will help him, and sweetie I hope your eating right because we both know you can't go too long without eating han flesh. Anyways keep sending letters it sounds amazing, love mom."

Within the note is attached what looks like jerky which Lazarus begins to chew on.

"Oh got a gift from home, what did your parent send you?" Logan asks his speech finally sounding less robotic he was a demon not a robot.

"Jerky my mom makes it herself, she works as clean up in a hospital biohazard stuff aka human flesh." Lazarus mumbles chewing on his food.

"Huh neat isn't your mom human? Its surprising that she is ok with all this." Virgil says sipping on his blood milkshake.

"Well she has been doing this since I was born so I guess knew what happened after she was raped." Lazarus frowned at the shocked faces. "How did you think I was made anyways?"

"Love and compassion." Patton sniffs looking upset pulling Lazarus into a hug.

"You do know what ghouls are Patton. Soulless creatures that are neither demonic magic or angelic in nature they are in a category in of themselves which makes them dangerous and extremely hard to predict. They are violent and powerful a half ghoul is well was impossible usally ghouls just kill outright I guess yours got frisky with juicy things." Remus winks.

"You had me in the first half bro." Roman says leaning on Lazarus.

"I have to disagree that was quite informative you really do your research." Logan says impressed.

Lazarus shrugs. "Eh she is fine never blame me."

"I want to meet the wonderful woman who made you Lazarus." Roman says

Lazarus blushes. "Ah shut it Roman."

Roman sticks his tongue out.

.......

The end came way too fast for Lazarus's liking but Roman was coming home to meet his mother. Hopefully she wouldn't be upset. He stops for a second remembering a picture from his textbook on hunters. One of the reoccurring pictures reminded him of his mother. He shrugged it probably wasn't her.

Lazarus opened the door to his house Roman behind him. He stopped dead when he heard Roman shreik.

"THE HUNTER QUEEN DON'T KILL HIM." Roman pulls Lazarus behind him and prepares to take the blow but is only met with a soft tisk.

"Lazarus who's your friend? Oh is this the Roman you wrote to me about he is cute." Lazarus's mother says looking over the two.

Roman was shaking he heard horror stories of how countless faes fell to her blade. "Y-y-you know me?"

"Of course my son sent me a bunch of letters."

Then it clicked for Lazarus. "Oh that makes sense you used to be a hunter no wonder you're ok with everything."

"Oh correct I'm retired now unless someone here breaks my son's heart." She chuckles "oh I'll make your favorite for dinner do you have any requests Roman?"

"Not to die." Roman looks pale as a ghost.

"Do you like spicy chicken I'll make that." She smiles.

Roman can only nod now hiding behind Lazarus who goes up to his room.

.....

"Your mother is what horror stories are for my well every supernatural kind. The cursed immortal hunter who can kill everything she sets her mind to." Roman gasps

Lazarus hums. "That explains why she looks so young."

"Why are you not freaking out she can kill us."

"Roman you forget she is my biological mother, and retired." Lazarus looks to Roman who seems to be in deep thought

"THAT'S WHY SHE VANISHED IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE. Also explains why you went to the summer school so you wouldn't be targeted."

Lazarus sighs. "Why did I fall in love with you?" He quickly slaps his hand over his mouth.

"You love me?"

Lazarus looks away nodding.

Roman looks at Lazarus with amazement. "Fuck fear I love you too."

They kiss.

[quinintheclouds]

Heyyyyyyyy quin, im gonna rant at you for a bit, because im fucking done with this bullshit!!! So, as of right now, my father's plan is to force me to redo freshman year, wether i want to or not(surprise surprise! i don't) He concluded this after taking one look at my grades from this year(four ds, one two as, two bs. not what i would consider good but thats not the poINT HERE) His exact words were "you are redoing your 9th grade year. its just a question of when." 1/idontfuckingknow

(Gonna paste the rest of your asks here. Tw: suicide mention)

Now, i, having already had a slightly toned-down version of this bloody conversation with my mother, did not have the patience for this shit. The following argument goes aproxxamately as follows,(this is a paraphrased version) beginning with me: "No. No, i already had this fucking conversation, im not redoing a year." "What POSSIBLE ARGUMENT COULD YOU HAVE for me to think so??" silence. "Do you ASPIRE to be a waitress?? Maybe a hairdresser" nothing. It only gets worse frome here. 2/??

"How much EFFORT DID YOU PUT INTO FUCKING THIS UP??" Now, lets stop here for a moment. What the fuck is my father, the man who's jizz became me, trying to pull? Anyway, my response was bewildered at best and full on APPALLED AND ENRAGED at worst: "you think i fucking- what makes you- I PUT EFFOR- THATS THESTUPIDESTSHITVIE EVERFUCKINGHEARD!??!!!! WHAT makes you think i DID IT ON PURPOSE??????" "THIS- *waves my report card in my face, wildly* MAKES ME THINK YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE." 3/4maybe5or6idk

Now, ive been trying, oh have i been trying, to get it through this man's head FOR YEARS, that i would never get bad grades on purpose. That should be a given right??? Anyway, he waves the paper in my face, and i (justly) had tears in my eyes. This is the angriest ive seen my father, which is saying a fucking lot, and hes about 8 inches from me, looking me DEAD IN THE FACE. And I have tears in my eyes. I was terrified, and im pretty sure i looked terrified. But did he care? mmmnotreally! 4/???

Ok, im not sure what else exactly he said(other than, sprinkled in there, that I manipulated my mother[no,] and that i 'couldve not shown up to class and still wouldntve done this bad') but either way, he walked away, saying "You WILL NOt be a sophomore at [my school] next year. we arent doing this again." *john mulaney voice* now, we don't have time to unpack all of that, If my father didn't give a shit about me before, he definitely doesn't now. This just fucking confirms it for me. 5/6

Actually, let me rephrase. He, no, BOTH of my parents don't give a shit about my mental health. They care about my grades because, if they turn out good, this tells them theyve done something right. They only give a shit about me if it benefits them, in that way or otherwise. This is what I've figured out. Honestly, i think im gonna have to tell him that ill fucking kill myself if im forced to redo freshman year. At this point, its the only way to get it through his head. 6/fuckigottadoonemore

And, at this point, im not even sure that if i said that, I'd be lying. In fuCKING conclusion, my parents do not give a shit. They don't give A SHIT, about how much BEING HELD BACK, is gonna FUCKING AFFECT ME, THEY JUST WANT MY GRADES TO BE BETTER SO THEY CAN FEEL BETTER ABOUT THEM-FUCKING-SELVES. I'm done now.

_________________________________________________________

Wow, that sounds stressful as all hell... also your parents sound like mine. I can’t stand parents who put blame on their kid for their mental health or struggles. They don’t need the burden of thinking it’s their fault ON TOP OF the burden of actually dealing with that shit! Is it possible to talk to a counselor at school about not wanting to repeat the year? Those grades qualify you to move on, don’t they? I’d be as pissed as you if my dad tried to do that. It’s your education. My parents have screamed at me about grades many a time, and I FEEL your pain. The way they’re acting is unhealthy for you, and I’m so so sorry you have to go through it. Telling you your future has no potential unless you do what they say is manipulative bullshit.

"How much EFFORT DID YOU PUT INTO FUCKING THIS UP??" OH MY GOD if I had an ant for every time my parents said this to me I could make an ant colony strong enough to take over the world. It is NOT okay. Suggesting that your work is a failure in the first place is awful, but adding in that you did it on purpose is a terrible parenting excuse because they think it reflects on them. That shit will mess you up. I still struggle to remember that me having trouble with something doesn’t make it my fault. I used to believe them and blame myself for every break I took. Playing a video game? Could’ve been studying. Reading a book? Should have asked for extra credit. All of that is ridiculous and harmful to any kid or adult. Let’s get one thing clear: it is NOT. YOUR. FAULT. And another: grades are not a measurement of effort, intelligence, or worth. They’re structured poorly and the entire school system desperately needs revamping. Your future is not doomed regardless of your grades.

Your dad saying you “'couldve not shown up to class and still wouldntve done this bad'” is ABHORRENT. Telling you that you not trying at all is better than any efforts you make is just so profoundly fucked up, pardon my French. Also, completely wrong. 

“BOTH of my parents don't give a shit about my mental health. They care about my grades because, if they turn out good, this tells them theyve done something right. They only give a shit about me if it benefits them, in that way or otherwise.“ My parents are the same way. They only care about whether something makes them look good or bad. You are NOT their trophy to show off as though your achievements are their own, and you are NOT some shameful thing for them to treat poorly. You are, always have been, and always will be, your own person. 

I’m gonna use a quote from a show that hits me really hard and I feel that every child of awful parents needs to hear. “I’m... sorry. I’m sorry your parents don’t care enough. You have every right to be angry. But you deserve to be happy.” You have been through so much, and your anger is absolutely justified. And yet, that doesn’t mean you can’t or won’t be happy. You deserve better than anger. You deserve to be happy. “And I hope you can find that... even if it’s not today.”

“Honestly, i think im gonna have to tell him that ill fucking kill myself if im forced to redo freshman year. At this point, its the only way to get it through his head. And, at this point, im not even sure that if i said that, I'd be lying.” I have been there, so I’ll be 100% honest with you. If your parents are anything like mine -- and it sounds like they are -- telling them you’ll kill yourself still won’t get through to them. In fact, it might make them take you even less seriously if they see you using it as leverage. Kids of parents that don’t take mental health seriously often drive themselves further into depression as a cry for help (not by their own fault) that’s perpetuated by never being heard. I got worse and worse (tw suicide ment) and I told my parents I was having suicidal thoughts. They just saw it as lazy and selfish and overreacting. I spiraled deeper. Then, when I made an attempt, my mom was furious, screaming at me and threatening me because I could’ve messed up her gun. “If you really want to be dead, ask me and I’ll gladly do it for you. At least I know how to use a fucking gun right.”

I could go on with the rest of that story, but I’ll sum it up by saying: I got help. I got better. I realized that if they wouldn’t care about me, I would. I knew what I was feeling was real. I knew I needed help if I wanted to survive. And now, I’ve found real happiness and more stability. Mental health issues don’t go away easily, and I know it’s not the same for everyone, but working on them is so worth it. I promise it can get better. People like to think of happiness as a long-term thing, but life will always have its ups and downs... I still have down days. I won’t pretend I don’t still have a lot to work through. But I am, finally, okay. I never knew “okay” could be the default, or how okay life could be. And it’s amazing. Happy happens a lot more now, and depression is smaller and manageable. I know you’re stuck where you are for now, and may not have access to professional help. But please... Please care about yourself, even if your parents don’t. I care about you. You deserve to, too. 

I’ve had so many moments that I felt were the last straw, that I couldn’t handle any more, that I was broken or ruined or doomed, but even then I somehow managed to survive. And I can honestly say I am so, so glad that I did. Please don’t let your parents ruin that for you. It’s not your fault for where you are. And it’s not where you’ll be forever. No matter what happens in this situation, whether it’s repeating the grade or moving on to the next, I believe that you can make it through. You are so fucking strong for making it this far. I know you might not believe me, but try to trust me. You. Deserve. Better. And even if it sucks right now, you absolutely can get there.

[dragonfoxstardesigns]

The Bandits’ Story - Part 11

Getting a little longer than anticipated, but here goes nothing! Hope you guys are enjoying the ride as now we’ll finally get to know a little bit more about Bjord and the village that they grew up in. Enjoy!

—————————————————

Morning soon turned into the late evening. The two bandits, Ragnar and Floki, were helping Bjord and Emina with tasks such as buying groceries in the village along with yardwork and other chores that needed to be done around the house. They had no clue how much responsibility the wildebeest family had thus finally understanding why Bjord joined the Gnoll Empire in the first place.

Raising a daughter alone was only part of it. House chores, yard work, and even the daily life of an education was a lot for a wildebeest woman such as Emina. However, she didn’t have to do everything on her own. Her father kept the place full of stock whenever he came home from work. The pay was plenty to live off of along with living a comfortable lifestyle too. 

Even the villagers were lively folk. All having raised children or were widows just like Bjord who had lost a spouse. They all were a huge part in keeping Emina company while often times checking up on the two whenever the villagers were able to. 

However, Ragnar and Floki couldn’t figure out why Emina chose them. Bandits weren’t entirely welcomed after all. The two visitors had to change clothing attire to fit in with the folks otherwise they got cold stares that could cut glass. Perhaps their weren’t too many near her age. Whatever the case, both the lion and the warthog did their best to help out along with learning from Bjord as well.

It wasn’t until close to dark that everyone came in for supper. 

Emina had prepared a spread of a variety of foods such as a fruit salad, fish from the nearby market, and even a few sides of rice with mixtures of vegetables. Of course bread wasn’t out of the option either whether toasted or baked. She tended to keep the three well fed while they stayed the week or so until Aramis and Gemma came back from their so-called ‘honeymoon’.

“Oh wow, Emina! These look great!” Floki eyed the food before digging in only to be slapped with a ladle from the wildebeest herself. 

“I’m flattered, but don’t dig in just yet. We still have to wait for Papa and Ragnar to come down. I wonder what’s taking them so long..?” Emina pondered in thought while putting the cooking supplies away. She loved how the lion was honest, but even she had no tolerance for him eating before everyone else. After all they were a family- or at least starting to from their first time living together under one household.

“Ow! Alright, alright. I was just teasing, Emina. But yeah I do wonder what’s keeping them up. Not like them at all, I’d say…?”

————————————————- “So you two want to propose to my daughter? Why so soon, Ragnar? Where is this coming from?“ 

Both the oldest wildebeest and the warthog were finishing getting ready for the  evening after cleaning up from getting their hands dirty via yard work.

“Well, you see…one of the reasons why we slept later than usual was because we…how should I put it..? All three of us made love in bed that night. I know its…not the most romantic or good timing, but I wanted to at least earn your respect since you are her father and all…” Ragnar’s ears went back feeling a bit unease when it came to confronting Emina’s own guardian. 

“You two…you did what?!” Bjord eyed the warthog feeling his blood boil. His hands balled into fists at his side. Shoulders slumped and silence stood on end until at last he spoke again. “At least you are respectful for bringing it up, but do you have any idea what you two have done?! She’s my precious girl…please tell me you both didn’t do what I think you two did?!”

Ragnar gulped before taking a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. A clear mind was better than arguing to her father. Emina wasn’t a child anymore. Maybe to Bjord, but she was a grown adult. “We had sex with your daughter. With her consent if that means anything…but yes both Floki and I know the consequences especially if she conceives. I doubt it after the first time though, Bjord. Even still Emina is a grown woman. She knows this too I’m sure.” He replied with a serious tone towards her protective father.

“And how do you know she won’t? Both Lagertha and I bonded the night of our marriage. Emina was conceived probably that very night as a month later my wife had shown early signs of pregnancy. You two better control yourselves. If my daughter does in fact become pregnant both you and Floki will endure the consequences in full. I will not have her carry that burden alone…” Bjord frowned feeling as if he had let down his guard. He was afraid of the worst especially now that Ragnar told the truth of their affair they had the night before.

“I swear that both me and Floki will take care of Emina if that happens, Bjord. I promise…” Ragnar knelt before the wildebeest father. “If anything happens we won’t leave your daughter or even you, Bjord. You both showed great hospitality to Floki and I…”

Bjord sighed and placed his hand on the warthog’s shoulder. 

“Rise, Ragnar. I believe you. As do Floki even if he isn’t here talking of his fair share of the conversation. Now then…we mustn’t keep them waiting too much longer now? They may already be eating before we get there if we aren’t careful. I know I could use a drink right now and a hearty meal after just today alone, don’t you think so Ragnar?”

——————————————————————————————-

Meanwhile, away from The Outlands, Aramis and Gemma were having some alone together by a cove where treasures lay waiting to be discovered….

“Oh! Yes! There, please Aramis~” Gemma mewed having now been rolled onto her back after the wild dog had enough of the serval riding him. She could feel him trying to hit her g-spot just right which made her purr in blissful paradise all the more. 

“Pretty kitty wants me so badly, hmm? Begging me will surely get you into a lot of trouble, you know~?” Aramis mused as his hind quarters hit against hers to where his the base of his cock finally knotted into place. Rewarding moans from his partner filling those large round ears of his.

“I don’t care! Just do it! We may never get the chance and I want all of you now, Wild Dog!” She hissed in warning before her eyes rolled back letting out pleasured moans as she felt the wild dog knot into place. His thrusts more precise making it hard for the serval to break free - not like Gemma wanted to in the least. Her own coherent thoughts were lavishing in the moment watching as Aramis took her. She didn’t care whether or not the strange creatures they saw earlier heard or saw them fucking by the cove. By damn Gemma would have it!

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you love! Damn your so tight!” He snarled fucking her harder as his hips smacked against her ass. Aramis could tell they were both getting close. Him throbbing and pulsing insider those constrictive walls of hers. The wild dog soon a goner as she caught his lips in retaliation while moaning  as their peaks came crashing down.

The two soon laid panting heavily. Chests heaving to catch their breath while still tangled in each other’s embrace. Gemma didn’t have to reach down to feel his seed start to ooze down her dewy lips even with Aramis’ knot still keeping most inside her sacred place.

Unbeknownst to them though, the strange creatures were indeed watching them from afar… 

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 2x05 Reptile Boy

aka adulting and frat boys

Welcome to this dailyish text post series where I will rewatch an episode of Buffy and point out / hyperfocus on one detail in it in 10-3k words. Mostly. The rules are arbitrary.

And today’s episode managed to heighten the show’s ever present metaphor of Buffy fighting toxic masculinity and rape culture by adding some super disturbing and way too real moments to its supernatural spin. There’s also the question of adulthood vs. maturity, Willow’s totally not jealous, and Angel is starting to be aware of some... stuff.

Let’s start with our ‘gay watch’ which may or may not become a regular segment on these posts, and appreciate this exchange:

Buffy:  I'm not going with Angel. I'm going with... Ye gods. Cordelia. Willow:  Cordelia?! Did I sound a little jealous just then, 'cause I'm not really... Cordelia?!

Now, that being said, during my previous experiences with the show, I definitely noticed a pattern of Willow being jealous / hostile towards other prominent people in the Scoobies’ lives - specifically towards other female characters. It happens with all of Xander’s love interests, sure, but also with Faith (so basically... Buffy’s love interest), and it appears to point to a fear of being replaced / abandoned more than anything. Probably more on that later.

The Buffy/Cordelia train has definitely left the station at this point though. Like who is Cordy kidding (other than herself) - she just wants to hang out with Buffy. And maybe her friends...

Speaking of said friends, I had to include the above screencap, especially after I saw someone once pointing out the way Xander makes a fabulous braid on his end and Buffy is just fumbling and looking confused at Willow’s hair. I really love these little bits and exchanges on the show, it often builds character and establishes dynamics in unexpected ways. Right now for instance we can clearly see that Buffy never had a little sister whose hair she’d braid as a kid.

...Also more on that later.

But I also want to fold this onto my talk about maturity and adulthood. because of the context of this scene. Apparently the Scoobies are all out of money and don’t really have anywhere to go out as a result - so they’re staying at home, watching a Bollywood movie together instead.

Later on the episode this will be juxtaposed with the whole aspirational idea of going to a frat party, and doing ‘adult’ things like drinking and hooking up with your (slightly older young adult) date; as well as the dull repetitiveness and responsibility of having an obligation that other people rely on you to do. And yet, that scene at the beginning - staying at home watching movies because you’re too broke to do anything else - is actually the most adult experience I could think of.

And I guess that’s sort of the point. Adulthood is much more mundane than what we imagine in high school it to be; while college can be this weird Twilight Zone where you can not only suddenly do all the ‘adult’ things, but potentially have the freedom to do so as well. Especially if you live in a country where higher education is easily affordable and not in some dystopian landscape where apparently only the richest can focus on their studies and not their part-time jobs .

Speaking of dystopian societies that the American culture appears to be to me - what’s it with these fraternity clubs? And why are they so weirdly gender-specific? And why are Americans so obsessed with the idea of ‘legacy’ students? ‘My father and grandfather attended this same college and were part of this same fraternity club’ who the fuck cares, Chris, it’s college, not a cigar club.

You guys are weird. Like we have hazing rituals for freshmen and all these weird parties going down in dorms, but the whole structure of fraternities just seem to give way too much space to up the notch on the worst aspects of college life. Of course my exposure to it is admittedly only through pop culture, but it really does look like a cult from here, ngl.

Anyway, the point is that college is the part of your life where you can be legally an adult, but you don’t need to have the level of maturity that that entails quite yet. Which is basically the polar opposite of where Buffy is at this point - someone who hasn’t yet entered the age of adulthood, but has all these obligations and responsibilities that demand a certain level of maturity from her that goes well beyond her years.

There are two particularly insidious scenes in this episode, one where Obnoxious Frat Guy offers a drink to Buffy that she refuses to which he says: “It’s okay, I wasn’t into adult things at your age either.” And then on the other end of the spectrum, we’ll have Nice Frat Guy talk about how “mature” he thinks Buffy is. So when he offers a drink she finally ends up accepting, because she’s tired of being ‘mature’.

In both cases, these guys are being manipulative and predatory (especially given how the drinks are spiked... I know, this episode gets way too real). Obnoxious Frat Guy is trying to be condescending, and reaffirm the high schooler idea of conflating adulthood with doing ‘adult things’. Nice Frat Guy however is being more subtle in his approach and appeals to Buffy’s sense of being burdened by her responsibilities - if she’s already so mature and has to deal with so many adult themes, she might as well do some of the ‘adult things’, right? She’s earned the right to loosen up in the ‘adult way’ a bit... right?

And then she gets drugged and chained up in a basement because no girl can ever let her guard down in this society. As Buffy says, she went to one frat party and had one drink, and this is what happened. I do kinda wish that Giles’ reaction to that wasn’t just that “let that be a lesson” line, and instead offered a reassurance that this wasn’t on her. But he also promises to put less pressure on her in the future, and he’ll have a great line to Buffy later in the season that makes me want to cry even now, and that evens those scales for me.

Given how the show often deals in caricatures when portraying characters like these frat guys, I also kinda appreciate that Nice Frat Guy actually seemed like... well, a nice guy (but also, a Nice Guy). I mean, as the audience it was easy to see through his manipulative bullshit act but I could also understand why Buffy liked him and was able to trust him somewhat. (This will happen in s4 again, although with much less rapeyness and much more general doucheness.)

This episode also seemed to have heard my 2x02 rant and it kind of addresses my concerns of Angel seeing Buffy as a “kid”. Their conversations here basically leave out the whole vampire pretense, and skip right into what’s this really about... sex. As the older one in their relationship, Angel seems to have come to the understanding, that it’s his responsibility to put an end to things before they get too far. Apart from the obvious age difference thing as well as Buffy being underaged that I touched upon previously, there’s also just the idea that Buffy may not be ready yet. And I do kinda respect Angel for finally acknowledging that.

Again - there’s this idea of adulthood vs. maturity. And how the latter is often recognizing the difference between being able or wanting to do something vs. whether or not you should do it. Being in the moment vs. considering the consequences of your actions.

When I previously talked about their relationship, I mentioned how I saw Buffy being the slayer tilt the power dynamic between them toward her, and making me more prone to get on board with them together. This episode however starts bringing the older guy / high school girl aspect closer to the surface. Even if we look at vampires as beings in some sort of arrested development, Angel was still in his early 20s when he was initially turned - which is just enough to make this a little murky.

I guess no wonder that them eventually going down that road will lead to disaster... But more on that later.

Or not. It’s a lot to sort out and maybe I’ll just want to talk about something nice and cozy like Oz instead.

Let someone else deal with all the heavy stuff.

[baby-cabana]

Zero Waste Beginnings

I enjoy the concept of zero waste and minimalism. I made it my New Years resolution to try and reduce the amount of non recyclable waste I produce in my home. 

Its been really fun so far and now that I have the support of my (reluctant) husband, its made it a challenge we can both aspire to! 

Im not 100% zero waste yet but I like to find all the possible ways to integrate the life style into my everyday life.    

Reducing waste is about a total overhaul of your learned behaviour and trying to make it as easy on yourself as you possible can. 

Usually this requires a little planning ahead; ie. bringing your own reusable cups or bags, buying consciously, making your own products etc. 

Usually these behaviours have many benefits such as saving money, being healthier in addition to reducing waste so keep those things in mind to encourage yourself to continue. And its about finding little alternatives to your everyday products. You can start small! IF you usually buy fizzy drinks in plastic bottles, try buying a can instead, you reduce the amount you will consume and the can is easier to recycle. IF you buy your meat at the supermarket, bring your own container! Just ask them to weigh it on the scales and put it in your box! Same with fruit and veg, try and buy locally and buy unpackaged! Most fruit comes with its own natural packaging, your bananas don’t need an extra bag! 

If you do it right. It’s about doing the best you can, not doing the ultimate best. My Grandmother use to say; do your best until you know better, then do better. This applies to everything in life, but its very apt on your zero waste journey!

Minimalism is about not buying more than you need. Do you need 25 t-shirts when you KNOW your going to wear the same five over and over again? Why do you need to buy an expensive brand new anything when there are literally hundreds of charity shops out there that sell exactly what your looking for! And who doesn’t love a bit of a rummage!! Donate what you don’t need anymore, if there’s life in it yet and let someone else get joy out of it! 

The amount of things I have decluttered from my home during my house move shocked me! And what’s even more shocking is there is SO MUCH left to go!! Why do you need it? What joy does it hold for you? Im resolved to keeping only the most sentimental keepsakes and items that are useful. Everything else, IM packing up and shipping on to kinder tides that will truly appreciate them far more than I ever did. 

The best thing about a zero waste journey is the journey itself, not the end result.  It’s about being your best self and being supportive of others in the community. Helping each other out, educating people.

Ive found the zero waste a perfect medium fo socialists. 

I'm sick of ‘zero-waste’ shops and influencers who advocate buying le parfait/mason/fancy new glass jars for storing your organic flour, couscous, oats, etc. Actually I detest those who pressure people attempting to make a change for the good of the planet to "buy" before reusing what they already have. 

I recently took a shopping trip in the hopes of filling my kitchen with pretty jars and containers to appeal to the aesthetic and let me tell you those jars are fucking expensive!! 

To me, it completely defeats the object of reducing your waste if you immediately go out and buy a whole set of brand new glass jars to store stuff in. there is loads of glass packaging already in the world. USE IT. That jar of pasta you have in the cupboard…its a JAR!! Ok, maybe not the prettiest, but its useful!!

Why do you need a whole new matching set of brand new storage containers when your cupboards may well be bursting with exactly what you need!

Try your local charity shops, hell, even try the restaurants! Do you know how many jars THEY go through in a day? It would be well worth an ask at least! 

To become zero-waste shouldn’t be an extra financial burden we place on ourselves to appeal to the middle class aesthetic we see on the Internet; it should be accessible to everyone because it matters. 

Im focusing on the individuals contribution to saving our planet from smothering under plastic waste, however we should be doing all we can to make big corporations HEAR our concerns. ITs all well and good one or two of us changing the way we live but it will mean nothing if big corporations keep dumping in the sea, using one use plastics, relying on fossil fuels, fracking, nuclear waste, air pollutions…Jesus, they want to dum TOXIC NUCLEAR WASTE in the Mourne Mountains!! Ireland doesn’t have Nuclear facilities and we’re still feeling the effect of Chernobyl and fukoshima!! 

The list is literally endless. So sign petitions, march in protests, get off your butt and realise if we don’t do something now, our children can’t later!