#makes a decision and just goes ahead with it

[aylen-san]

Finrod Felagund: Why Being the King of the Noldor Is NOT Boring (But Definitely Deadly)

Greetings, dear friends, enemies, potential conspirators, and those already preparing to comment, “But it was different for Turgon!” Today, I, Finrod Felagund—officially the King of Nargothrond, unofficially the chief psychiatrist of my people, and unfortunately born with royal blood—will explain why being the King of the Noldor is anything but boring.

That is, of course, if you consider constant wars, betrayals, political crises, family manipulation, visits from Dark Lords, and sudden death “not boring.���

Do you think being a king is an honorable and pleasant position? HA!

Oh, I see why you might have such illusions. You probably imagine a grand throne room where I sit in a golden crown, nod wisely, issue decrees, and my people love, respect, and build statues of me.

Allow me to disappoint you—this is absolute nonsense.

Being the King of the Noldor is like playing chess, fighting a wild warg, putting out a fire, and making sure no one stabs you in the back… all at the same time.

Let’s break it down.

1. Family Is the Worst Part of the Job

I don’t know who first came up with the phrase “family is everything,” but they clearly didn’t live among the Noldor.

My family consists of:

A father who wants me to always make the right decisions (meaning the ones he approves of).

An uncle who thinks he’s the smartest person alive but, coincidentally, crises always seem to happen around him.

Cousins with an unfortunate habit of killing people, seizing cities, and staging four-act tragedies.

And guess who has to deal with all of these problems? That’s right—the king.

2. Politics Is Just a Fancy Word for Hell

Every day, advisors, lords, and generals come to me with the same conversation:

“O wise king, the situation is dire!”

Sigh. “Who is it this time? Sauron? Morgoth? Your personal ambitions?”

“Well… possibly all of the above.”

As king, I have to balance the will of the people (who just want to live), the ambitions of the nobility (who want power), and reality (which wants to kill us all).

Any decision, no matter how simple, instantly creates a chain reaction of unintended consequences—like a spell gone horribly wrong. For example:

“Let’s not interfere in foreign wars.” → We look weak.

“Let’s help our allies.” → We get dragged into an unwinnable war.

“Let’s just build a fortress and stay quiet.” → The enemy finds it anyway because someone in town blabbed (Mortals, I’m looking at you).

3. War, War, and More War

Do you think I enjoy fighting? I’d much rather write poetry, play the harp, and discuss philosophy. But alas, if you’re a King of the Noldor, sooner or later you’re called to battle.

We are a people who have “If something goes wrong, grab a sword and start killing” written into our very genes. The “let’s solve this peacefully” option is considered an extreme experiment.

And if you’re a king, you must be at the frontlines.

Try staying back, and suddenly you’ll hear whispers:

“Our king is a coward! Maybe we should replace him?”

(Usually, the “better option” they choose gets eaten by a dragon, but who thinks that far ahead?)

4. Magical Artifacts Are Not Toys—Try Explaining That to the Noldor

The moment my people see something glowing, pulsating with magic, and promising power, I already know I’ll have a headache for the next several decades.

History has proven that the Noldor simply cannot resist magical artifacts:

The Silmarils? Great idea—let’s kill thousands over them.

Rings of Power? Of course, let’s forge them and then act shocked when things go wrong.

Enchanted crowns, swords, amulets? We’ll take them! And only later realize they’re cursed.

As king, I have to make sure my people don’t get entangled in yet another magical disaster. And, of course, I fail every time.

5. The Final Bonus: Death Included in the Package

Noldorin kings rarely die in bed.

Let’s take a look at history:

Maedhros? Suicide.

Fingon? Killed.

Turgon? Killed.

Gil-galad? Burned to death.

Me? Eaten by a werewolf.

(Honestly, compared to the others, my death sounds pretty original.)

But the funniest thing? Despite how terrible this job is, every second one of us still takes the crown, as if we lack any sense of self-preservation.

And do you know why?

Because being a King of the Noldor is a challenge. It’s a battle. It’s a passion.

We cannot simply sit back and enjoy life. We either overthrow, get overthrown, get killed, or kill.

And truth be told… I wouldn’t trade my fate for anything.

Though, if I had a choice, perhaps I’d pick a quiet life in Valinor, where the worst thing that could go wrong is gossip about who played the harp worst at the last feast.

But since I’m a Noldo… we fight to the bitter end.

Yours (already dead, but still sarcastic),

Finrod Felagund.

[nieranddear]

Finally getting around to writing about it. Mostly since it would have needed to be contained inside the tags of the main post and there is no way this would’ve fit. It’s mostly just dialog rewrites, trying to keep it somewhat in character at the least, rereading on the characters and then debating over what to do, process of pain, and all that thinking stuff that makes my brain hurt. Typical things I'd put in the tags. Do know it is 1.6k words as a heads up.

I actually had an idea before that was written down the day of, as elaborated inside a post, but it felt really clunky and I couldn’t find the work around for it to make more sense or be natural than just having items go for a specific purpose than it feeling more akin to a decision made because it was a decision rather than a contrivance and necessity. Changed it the next day and did one draft for the dialog and then went into thumbnails. I didn’t think I would put this much effort into it? If I had known beforehand I would’ve definitely had done more time inside the planning stage to have it put out inside a form that I felt more content with. Specifically with the placement of dialog paired with the paneling. Some were fine but it ended up feeling as if it was either too claustrophobic, which I had attempted to fix later on by either condensing or moving some items around, or that it was either too fast pace wise. Hopefully it ended up alright in the end. I can’t quite remember as I didn’t write the exact thought process down but I tried to convey timing and feeling through the sizes of the panel and the background? Also typical comic or the like but I couldn’t tell if it was executed very well which is why it was brought up.

Ahhh the pacing was killing me. I tried to condense it but overall it just felt too rushed or unnatural. It still feels a bit unnatural but passable as simply awkward now. Already established and can be seen here but I tend to speak in a verbose manner. Either when explaining things or just talking in general when trying to communicate. Which also caused it to be drawn out. It was mainly the fact that I didn’t want to force an idea that felt too unnatural to me once more.

Actually interesting things. Dialog. And the two. These two. There was going to be a bit more teasing but it felt a bit off? Not sure. While Netzach did have words that were sarcastic or poking at the situation it was more of a dry, wry sort of thing than something he actually does often. Mostly out of that said hopelessness that was most present inside of LCorp. Though he is still one to complain it isn’t at an expense of himself or others. Along with the fact it was harder to try and find a situation to fit affection? Not so in the way to where it seemed impossible for a dynamic or relationship but more of the fact that typical situations of what I personally perceive to be relationships or romantic just wouldn’t flow. Netzach’s expression isn’t one of being loud. In multiple ways really. Not to say he doesn’t but in general his face isn’t as vividly expressive and his voice is quieter and he speaks inside a lethargic and slower way. This also transfers over to the experiencing of love and expressing of that love as well. Specifically when talking about or discussing the affection he had for Carmen it was a gentle but ever real and present adoration. Simply being content to go ahead and just be near her. To be near to see the passion and life inside of her eyes. But even with that affection the way he goes about to describe it is also very unsure? Not quite unsure but using language that isn’t as strong with the idea of ‘love’. It isn’t as if it is not there but it isn’t as if it was what one would call a typical, burning passion. Words such as ‘suppose’ only followed after a more lengthy pause to the idea of Carmen being his ‘first love’. Then going on to describe the dynamic by using the words provided. Along with ‘Was it love, really?’ to the first probing of the relationship and feelings towards Carmen. It felt odd if I went ahead and had such behaviors written down. Personally. Mostly due to the fact I wanted to try and express that more subtle or quiet showings of affections and adoration. No, I am not projecting. I just happen to be AroAce spec. Hashtag trust. Regardless, the way it was handled really stood out to me so I wanted to try and preserve that in a certain way or try to go ahead and have that shown in some manner. Things like his words about wanting to go ahead and express his emotions quietly down onto a painting. I wanted to try and have him do something like that and to capture that and more openly and physically present those emotions, that work and time, towards Yesod as another showing of affection. Plus the kiss on the cheek. I was debating keeping that in but a kiss is a more universal sign of communicating affection. Wanted to not have it on the lips for a sort of comfort thing? Like Yesod was already written on edge and a bit stressed due to the fact he was simply receiving things inside a showing of appreciation and affection and unable to go ahead and reciprocate or be able to return the favor or having planned to go ahead and physically do something. Adding onto the slight tension from being too close and trying to test the waters of being close. Putting it over here Yesod seems to be fine with space considering he quite literally walks up to Roland to touch and adjust his clothes. But it was more of the factors of getting inside of his space when already tense that I wanted to go ahead and be done. Going back to Netzach, the kiss was placed on the cheek inside a way to go ahead and still express that affection but still have it not be entirely inside of his space. A gentle cupping that could easily be stepped back away from but still a physical gesture. I kept going back to the idea of him wanting to try. Going to go ahead and try and attempt to do things. A whole thing with him is wanting to go ahead and try. Try to live. Try to put in the work. Try and actually put effort in. Which then translated over to wanting him to try and get himself to go and express and show that affection towards the other.

Yesod. Where do I start with you. Well I suppose continuing off of the idea of him being more ahh I can’t find the word. Anxious I suppose? I don’t know the correct feeling or word to adequately identify it. Alexithymia and all of that. But it the sort of feeling you get when you’re unable to do or complete something, causing a sort of restlessness and some sort of discomfort inside. Maybe that is anxiety. Regardless. The prospect of being unable to return or to be able to go ahead and repay inside the one sided exchange of items or words received. Wanted to have it to where it felt maybe wrong? Or the sort to go ahead and receive something without any prerequisite or action to balance it out. Thus having him more on edge and a bit more irritable during the conversation. Yesod himself is rather composed, really. The things he ended up becoming more worked up about were subjects where he was more passionate about an injustice. Even then he tends to collect himself after such matters. Even inside LCorp he was one to go ahead and be able to reign himself in and restrain himself inside his emotions. Even during the meltdown which is a bit funny to think about in an ironic way. Which is understandable considering everyone inside LCorp was far more unstable. But still under a situation that upsets or distresses he ends up expressing a temper that he does have. I wanted to try and have him be physically more stiff? On edge or just more tense at it all. Going ahead and opening up with sorting/rechecking/replacing of the books upon the shelf as a sort of way to soothe and get comfort and also physically actually do something while thinking. Any other thing to add would end up being the notes about trying to get their body language down and what to do with them. A slight tilt on Netzach’s head and shifting of it. General slouching. Was also debating keeping some of the body language in or not or just gesticulations but ended up keeping it in for the sake of it not being visually boring. Yesod with pauses and more stationary bodywise. Mostly only really small tilts or eye movement. 

Other patrons mentioned! I feel like they would be the types to go out and initiate some sort of gift giving. Maybe others responding or doing something in their own right afterwards but those few seemed like the type to have something planned or ready specifically just for the day. Tiphereth as well because despite her more snappy words and ruder sentences she can end up saying which she doesn’t really mean she does care for them all. So I thought it would be nice if Tiph went ahead and wanted to try and express or extend that showing because of that. Malkuth feels like the type to do some trinkets or the sort and more physical showings of affection through hugs and the like. Hod feels like the sort to go ahead and make personalized notes. Also fitting for the floor of literature patron. Chesed because he is a social creature and also likes excuses to go ahead and visit or see others and just chat.

hoptal

[rowanthestrange]

I like Martha, I do, but people complaining Ruby hasn’t shown enough character flaws in the first two episodes like if you took “was willing to put up with his shit for way too long grrl” away from Martha she wouldn’t be so flat that she’d disappear if you looked at her side-on.

[sonarspace]

feral, suguru geto

synopsis: suguru’s not sure how you’ll react to his new haircut. content: very filthy and NSFW! (orgasms, 69, cowgirl - kinda, mating press, messy) wc: 2.3k an: combined two requests so i hope my lovely anons don’t mind 😸. and as usual not proofread!

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞 snip, snip, snip, snip !

suguru looks up at the mirror and his identity — his once luscious long hair ... gone. immediately he regrets his decision and a frown takes home on his face.

he pulls on his hoodie and leaves the barber shop. "why did i think that was a good idea?" he scolds himself internally. "ugh, she's going to hate it. i look so stupid." he thinks as he's walking back home.

"i think it looks great," satoru chirps from the couch. he glances at satoru once before groaning, "you're just saying that so i don't feel bad. she's going to hate it man."

"no, i really am not. i think it's nice that you changed up your hair. couldn't tell the difference between you and your girlfriend when you guys would nap together," he giggles. and suguru's throwing a pillow at his face to shut him up.

he comes to pick you up at the airport. a beanie and hoodie over it to keep you from noticing his haircut for as long as he could. he sees you walk out of the airport, looking around for him. suguru's frown is immediately turning into a beaming smile when your eyes catch his and you're running into his arms.

he picks you up almost crushing you and you're a squealing mess in his embrace. you pull back and hold his face, peppering it with kisses causing him to breathe out a lighthearted chuckle.

you talk about your trip the entire ride home and he listens happily. he's glad you don't talk ask about what's going on with the beanie and hoodie combo. you come out of the shower, a small knowing smirk plays on your lips.

"don't you feel hot?" you ask him, fanning your face. "not really," he presses his lips together. 'uh oh...' an alert goes on in his brain. his heart picks up a beat at the thought of how you'll react.

you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. "what" he whines when you look at him like that. instead of making him nervous it was making his dick hard. "do you have something to show me suguru?" you ask walking towards him with faux tentative steps.

"you know, don't you?" he sighs. “satoru told me,” you giggle sitting down next to him on the couch. “come on let me see,” you tell him eagerly.

“will you break up with me if it looks bad?” he asks you half jokingly, half seriously. “depends,” you joke and he scoffs. “i’m kidding baby, i’m never leaving you” you crawl into his lap.

his breath hitches slightly when you sit directly over his half hardened cock. instinctively he wraps his arms you and drops his head to your chest.

he looks back up and whispers “go ahead”. you hold your breath as you pull down his hoodie. his usual bun not visible. your hands reach for his beanie and he shuts his eyes, afraid of your reaction. “suguru, open your eyes.” you chuckle.

“can’t. just remove the beanie and tell me you hate it already,” he says. you pull off the beanie and gasp quietly but he notices and opens his eyes immediately. a slow smiles spreads on your lips and you let out a giggle in awe.

“oh my god,” you run your hand through his locks. his hair much much shorter but his bangs were still framing his face like usual. a wolf cut. “i love it,” you squeal when your eyes fall to his. “really?” he matches your tone. “yesss. so so much. it suits you so well.” you beam.

“you look really sexy.” you add on, a blush creeping at your neck at the way he squints his eyes at you. you’re sure he can feel the wetness forming in between your legs at his half hard dick slightly prodding at your clit.

“yeah?” he asks, his face close enough you could feel his breath on your lips. his nose bumps into yours. “yeah,” you confirm.

he hums moving his lips over yours. kissing you so softly. too consumed in the kiss you start grinding in his lap. your hand tangles in his hair, tugging it.

he groans lowly into your mouth as he bucks up into you. he pulls away and bites into your exposed shoulder. “please,” you whimper when he looks at you. and he’d be crazy to say no when you look at him with a cute pout.

“what do ya want?” he asks, knowing the answer. but he wanted you to voice out. you look away and he pulls back your face to look at him – his hand squishing your cheeks cutely. “now now, don’t go shy on me when you were just grindin on my cock.”

“suguru,” you whine. “darling,” he whines back. you narrow your eyes at him. “go on. say it.” he urges you. “want you…want you to fuck me.” you huff.

“see that wasn’t so hard,” he squeezes your cheeks once more making your lips pucker and places a dirty kiss. biting your lip to watch it snap back against your teeth and smiling pridefully.

he pulls off your shirt slowly. admiring your soft skin with his lips. his mouth on your boobs licking around your nipple and sucking it in so sinfully — you felt hot in your skin. you squirm in his grip as he continues assaulting your boobs.

his hand moves between your legs and slips in your pants over your panties and you moan unashamedly. “let’s see how much you’ve missed me,” he speaks with a mischievous tone. you twitch and your head falls back when his fingers move over you panties, collecting your arousal. he lets out a contented murmur. “so wet baby, i bet i could just slide in easily.” your boob now covered with his saliva. you tug his hair and he unlatches his mouth with a pop. you bring his face up to yours and he lulls his tongue knowingly. you tilt your head slightly and suck on his tongue eagerly.

his hand moves around your neck and pushes you back, halting your movements. his nose pokes into your cheek as he rubs over your clothed clit. his breathing grows heavier as if he was the one reaching his high.

without a second thought you grab his hand still in your panties and press it closer to yourself. you move against it stimulating yourself. his fingers rub your pussy while the end of his palm presses against your clit with every jerk of your hips.

your grip tightens on the back of his neck as your head falls back and you gasp a whimper. feeling your fingernails dig into his nape has him rutting his hips into your core.

his heavy breathing hits your neck and he sinks his canines into your flesh silencing himself. you feel his muffled groans against your skin as he keeps torturing your drenched pussy and unconsciously bucking up into you.

“nghh— fuck sugu i’m” you cum with a loud cry of his name – both hands on his shoulder trying to steady yourself as you twitch in his lap. at that he finally pulls your panties aside and dips his finger into your hole. he holds his breath at the feeling of your warm arousal and the clenching of your walls around his digit.

“pussy’s so greedy. did you not give her any attention?,” he purrs teasingly. his hand still wrapped around your neck tightens – cutting off your oxygen and flooding your head with a lustful fog.

he clucks disapprovingly when you shake your head. he moves his hand down to your waist and holds you as he stands up and sits you back down on the couch – on his knees between your legs.

he pulls out his finger from between your legs and pushes it into your mouth. watching with his lips parted as you make a show of sucking your juices off of it. tongue swirling around the tip of his finger and then bobbing your head down to his knuckles.

“you’re going to drive me insane,” he growls immediately pulling you into a rough kiss. his teeth nipping your lips and sliding his tongue against yours — at last tasting you and he bellows a whine into your mouth.

he pulls down your pants along with your drenched panties roughly almost pulling you with it and he squeaks a sorry making you laugh at his excitement.

he places your legs on his shoulders and admires your glistening pussy – your sweet arousal covering every inch. he almost feels overwhelmed and his heart picks up a beat. he looks back up to you and you smile at him so sweetly he almost falls face first into your cunt.

he laughs under his breath moving closer. your hole flutters in anticipation when a cold puff of his breath patters near it. your squeal quickly turns into a moan when his tongue licks a stripe up your folds. he spreads your folds and lets a string of spit fall over your hole watching it clench.

“god, so needy. mama's not been takin care of you huh?" and as if in agreement your pussy clenches again and he laughs in amusement.

"suguru," you purr. he hums licking up your folds and then teasing your clit. "wanna taste you as well," you request. and he swears he almost comes at your needy tone. he'd be a madman to say no. he pulls you down on the floor with him. laying side by side in a 69 position.

you pull down his shorts and his dick springs up and hits his abdomen. the tip's flushed pink with pre cum covering his slit, a vein running at the side of his length throbbing under your touch. it twiches in your hand and he lets out a guttural moan.

your tongue teases his slit, gathering his pre cum into your mouth and then spitting it back on his cock — pumping him once, twice, before you decide to take all of him in your mouth. he bites down at your inner thigh at the immense pleasure feels. he bucks accidentally hitting the back of your throat making you gag. "fuckkkkk," he lets out a loud, deep groan, resonating throughout the living room.

he grabs your legs and brings you closer to his mouth. breathing in your arousal, twitching in your mouth. "ahh" you moan with him still in your mouth — he picks up the pace and starts tongue fucking you. dipping his tongue inside you, feeling your warm walls taking him in excitedly.

he tries to keep himself cumming in your mouth but you make it so hard when you start massaging his balls. he pulls away from you, unlatching his mouth. "need to be in you," he speaks with a raspy urgency. his hands move to your head keeping you there for a moment before he pulls you off of him and into his lap.

he wraps an arm around you once you take hold of his dick and sink down on him so wickedly slow. you grab his neck and bring him close. a string of saliva falls against his upper lip from your mouth. you close the space between you and lick it clean and plunging your tongue back into his mouth — both of you whining at the taste of your arousals on each other's tongue.

he leans back on one hand and starts bucking up into your heated cunt. moans of pleasure spilling out of both of you — loud enough that passerbys in the hallway felt a blush creep up their necks.

"ngh ha — baby, i'm not going to last long," he warns. you rub a finger over your clit, trying to reach your high at the same time as him. his cock head nudges against your g-spot pushing you closer — the coil in your stomach tightening.

he brings your mouth to his, kissing you — wanting to feel your moans inside him. the kiss is messy with spit dribbling down the side of both your mouths, both it doesnt stop you from trying to kiss each other.

"cumming," you bite down his lip as the coil snaps and floods your senses. your fingers scratch down his chest, leaving trails of red in its wake. he halts his hips when you start clenching around him uncontrollably and in the process milking him. you grind against him slowly wanting to make the feeling last longer for him as his ropes of his cum fills you.

he wraps both arms around you and hugs you, still sheathed in your cunt. he fills you to the brim, a bit of his cum running down your thighs and falling on his own. you gather a little bit on your finger and lick it clean, keeping your gaze on him. and he's hard again.

"you're so cruel," he adds laying you down and getting on top of you. he pushes your legs up to your chest as he starts fucking you. his hips snapping against the back of your legs. he makes you cum so hard again, all you can see is white. he falls down to your chest both of you sticky from sweat and cum running your legs.

he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. you wrap arms around each other and share endless kisses under the water. "if i knew my hair cut would have you acting like this, i would've cut it long time ago," he speaks against the kiss. you blush and hide your face into his chest, "i missed you." you feel his dick poking against your leg and you gasp "again?" and he laughs in return, "guess he’s missed you too".

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

an: comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[blxxmingrose]

hans could see the flaws in their plans, could see the many ways things could go wrong. but he could see them regardless of which option they chose, and that’s what frustrated him the most. there was no single correct path to take. nothing that could assure their safety. their children’s safety. 

hans knew nothing ever was certain in this world, but he always thought he had a good handle on making decisions that served him well. smart decisions.

being faced with this dilemma—with this threat to their family—he felt helpless, june’s hand cradling his face being the only consolation at the moment. “i do trust you,” he whispered softly, willing the absolute nature of that trust to shed away any of the worries as he spoke. “i trust you with my life, with our children’s lives.” 

it wasn’t trust that was being questioned here, hans knew that. it was the way they could follow through with the plan and think ahead of any obstacles, any possible outcome that might bring them closer to danger. he nodded along to june’s words, knowing that right now, what was most important was for them to work like a team. 

“i don’t want them to be scared either. we could come up with a list of items we need to buy tomorrow—items that would bring us to places where we could gather information without being too obvious.” he started thinking. the market would be one obvious place. it gathered people, from residents to travelers passing by. it would be the first place a stranger would look for, a place to get whatever they needed. 

then, the pawnshop. hans remembered several trips there, and there had been a few exchanges of items that came from the palace. it would be a lead for someone looking for them. hans needed to know just how much they knew about their family. the owner of the pawnshop was not easy to intimidate either—it could give them an idea of what kinds of tactics the palace had already started to use to gather information. 

he felt better having the plan slowly form. they would go as a family, make it seem like a regular trip to town for the children, and know which places to go to. “at any point, if anything goes wrong, we leave immediately,” he added, echoing june’s words, giving june’s hand a gentle squeeze at the same time. he trusted that the two of them would always know when it was time to go. when something didn’t feel right. 

he paused for a moment, letting the plan play out in his mind. doing so steadied his heartbeat just a bit, easing up the shaking of his hands. when he spoke again, he felt more determined than scared. “i want to pack small bags, one with emergency supplies, just in case.” he met june's eyes, his statement punctuated with a resolved nod.

they knew what to do if they felt something was wrong, but just in case something creeps up on them, just in case they couldn’t go back home soon enough, hans wanted to make sure they had supplies too. 

as he made a mental list of the supplies he wanted to take with them, he was taken back to the moment he ran away with june. how he had packed his own stuff, filling a trunk with just the items he knew he’d need. he felt the same now, except he wasn’t running away to find a new home. and that made his heart ache. this home they had built, this sanctuary for their family, was something he couldn’t see them abandoning. but just in case, hans reminded himself, just in case they had to, he had to be prepared. 

with a deep breath, his hand still holding on to june firmly, hans comforted himself with the fact that whatever happened, as long as they were together, they could rebuild. they would always be home with each other. 

june’s mind was already moving, trying to piece together the best course of action before hans had even finished speaking. the idea of taking the children with them — it made sense in some ways. if arthur and julia were with them, no one could take them while their backs were turned. they would be able to keep an eye on them, to ensure no stranger with a false smile and empty promises had the chance to steal them away. it also meant exposing them to whatever awaited them in town.

he exhaled slowly, his gaze steady on hans’ as he considered their options. “if we take them, we risk letting them see something they shouldn’t,” he said finally, his voice careful, measured. “if someone is asking about us, if someone recognizes them—” he stopped himself, jaw tightening. “i don’t want them to be scared. i don’t want them to see us scared.”

and that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? the moment arthur and julia saw fear in their fathers’ eyes, they would know something was wrong. arthur was already watching them too closely, already picking up on the way they whispered after bedtime, the way hans had held onto him like he was afraid to let go. julia might not understand the details, but she would feel the tension, absorb it like a sponge. but he knew hans was right, too. leaving them behind carried just as many risks.

june ran a hand down his face, forcing himself to think. “we could take them,” he said, the words slow, deliberate. “but we’d need to make it feel normal. no hesitation. no fear. we go about our day as if nothing has changed. if we start acting different, arthur will know. he’ll start asking questions.” he didn’t want to lie to his son. but he also didn’t want to burden him with the weight of something he didn’t deserve to carry.

his fingers tightened around hans’, grounding himself in the warmth of his husband’s touch. “if anything seems wrong, if i even think we’re being watched, we leave immediately. we don’t wait around for answers. we don’t take risks.” his eyes were hard now, his expression set. the palace had resources. the palace had reach. and june knew firsthand how easy it was to disappear when someone with power wanted you gone.

he hated this — hated that they were even having this conversation. this was supposed to be their safe place, the home they had built with their own hands. he had spent years making sure no ghosts from his past could find them, yet somehow, they had. it had been so long since he felt truly hunted. he thought those days were behind him. and maybe that had been his mistake.

his hand slid up to cradle hans’ face, his thumb brushing just beneath his eye where unshed tears threatened to spill. “i need you to trust me,” he said, his voice softer now. “no matter what happens, we keep our family together. no one is taking them from us. no one is taking you from me.”

and if they tried? june would remind them exactly why he had never been an easy man to chase.

[fy-perspectives]

A Letter to Self

Dear Future Me,

As I write this letter, my mind drifts to the deepest recesses of what it means to live a life of true meaning. Right now, I stand on the edge of the unknown, with a vision in my heart and a longing for something that feels both timeless and elusive. I feel the urgency of the moment, but also the understanding that this is not just a race to accomplish, but a journey of becoming.

I do not know where I will be when you read this letter, but I know that you are the culmination of all the choices I make today. The person you have become is the result of the small, quiet moments of reflection, the moments of profound silence, and the decisions to push through even when I felt lost. I hope you have not lost touch with the essence of who you are, for the journey ahead is not just about what we achieve, but about the way we evolve at the deepest level.

Health: A Sacred Vessel for the Soul At the core of my being is the understanding that health is not just the absence of illness but a sacred vessel that supports the unfolding of my purpose. It is not simply about eating the right foods or maintaining a routine; it is about honoring the very body that houses my soul. I feel an increasing awareness that health is intertwined with spiritual vitality—that what I feed my body, mind, and spirit creates the energy from which all else flows. I have worked to care for my body as an act of reverence, to move with intention, to breathe deeply, and to eat with gratitude. Yet, I know that true health goes beyond the physical. It lies in accepting my vulnerabilities, in cultivating emotional resilience, and in nurturing the peace within.

I hope that, by the time you read this, you have transcended the common notion of health. Have you come to understand that true vitality is a sacred alignment of the physical, mental, and spiritual planes? Do you still honor your body with the same reverence that you once set as your intention? Health is a daily commitment to being whole in every aspect of yourself, and I trust that you’ve continued to care for your vessel with the wisdom that only deep reflection and experience can bring.

Creativity: The Expression of the Soul's Truth Creativity, for me, has become something far deeper than simply producing. It has become the expression of my soul's truth. Every word I write, every brushstroke I make, every idea I birth is not just a reflection of what I know, but a reflection of who I am. I’m no longer driven by the desire to merely create for recognition or external approval, but because it is through creation that I remember myself—the raw, untamed essence of my being.

I’ve come to see creativity as an act of surrender—to let go of control and allow the work to emerge from the deepest recesses of my heart. The journey of creativity has shown me that vulnerability is at its core, and it is only by being authentically exposed that I can produce something that truly resonates. I have faced the fear of judgment, the self-doubt that lingers like a shadow, but through it all, I have learned that creativity is not about perfection—it is about truth. The truth of who I am, in each moment, in each breath.

Have you, by now, been able to create freely, without the weight of self-imposed expectations? Have you allowed yourself to simply create for the sake of being rather than doing? I trust that by now, your creative spirit has transcended the confines of the mind and entered into the realm of pure expression, where the boundaries between creator and creation no longer exist. May you be forever unafraid to express what lives in the deepest places of your soul, regardless of the outcome, for in that expression lies your freedom.

Long-Term Vision: The Pursuit of Meaning Beyond Success When I look into the future, I don’t see a destination as much as I see a continuous unfolding. The world speaks of success, wealth, and status as though they are the ultimate goals of life, but I have come to realize that they are mere illusions compared to the true purpose of living. My vision is not simply to achieve, but to become. To become the person who is not just successful by external measures, but fulfilled at the deepest level. My goal is to live a life of meaning, one in which I serve not from a place of obligation, but from a place of love, generosity, and purpose.

This vision is not limited to material goals; it extends into the realm of soulful abundance—a life lived with presence, awareness, and a deep commitment to contributing something of real value to the world. I understand that I am not just here to exist but to leave a legacy—not one of grand monuments or accolades, but one of quiet impact, where the ripples of my actions touch lives in ways I may never fully see.

Have you reached a place where your vision is no longer shaped by what others expect but by the pull of your own heart? Have you found the courage to pursue a life that feels aligned with your soul’s deepest desires, regardless of how unconventional it may appear to others? I trust that you are living in harmony with your truth, and that your work, whatever it may be, is not just fulfilling but deeply connected to the greater good. In your daily actions, do you embody the very values you hold dear? I hope so. For success is not measured by what we accumulate, but by the love and light we bring into the world.

Facing the Abyss: The Inner Journey of Transformation The most profound aspect of my life’s journey is perhaps the one that is the most difficult to articulate—the internal transformation that takes place beneath the surface. This journey is not always visible to others, and sometimes, it is not even visible to me. But I know that this transformation is real. It is the shift from fear to courage, from lack to abundance, from confusion to clarity. It is the process of shedding old identities, beliefs, and limitations that no longer serve my highest self.

In these moments, when the world feels like it is crumbling or when doubt and fear grip my heart, I remember that true growth comes from surrendering—surrendering to the uncertainty of life, to the knowing that I do not have all the answers, and that I am not meant to. I have learned that trusting the process is the key to peace, and that in the darkest moments, there is always light waiting to emerge.

Have you fully surrendered to the unfolding of life, knowing that everything, even the most painful moments, is part of the grand design? Have you accepted that the challenges you’ve faced are not obstacles to overcome, but the very soil from which your wisdom and growth have sprouted? I trust that you’ve learned to let go of all that no longer serves you and embraced the unfolding of your true self, free from attachment to outcomes.

Relationships: The Sacred Dance of Connection The relationships I hold closest to my heart are the ones that remind me of who I am and why I’m here. These connections are not defined by superficial exchanges, but by the deep, sacred bond that exists between two souls. I’ve learned that love is not just an emotion, but a sacred act of vulnerability, a constant flow of giving and receiving, where both individuals are free to be their most authentic selves.

In these relationships, I have come to understand the importance of both self-love and love for others. I cannot truly love others if I do not first love and honor myself. This is a profound truth that continues to unfold. Have you, by now, mastered the art of presence—of truly being with others in moments of silence, joy, and grief? Have you let go of expectations and embraced the beauty of unconditional love? I trust that you have nurtured your relationships with the depth, care, and love they deserve.

The Unfolding Journey I cannot know exactly what the future holds. But I do know this: I am here to become. To evolve. To step into the fullest expression of my soul's purpose. This journey is not about destination, but about becoming more authentically me with every step I take. I trust that wherever you are, you are living in alignment with this deep truth.

May you look back with gratitude for the pain and the joy, for all that has shaped you into who you are today. And as you move forward, may you do so with courage, faith, and a deep, unshakable knowing that you are exactly where you need to be.

With all my love, faith, and trust in the unfolding of your journey,

Sincerely Yours

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went—like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

[deadpresidents]

"Mr. Trump's election demonstrates how American tolerance for the unacceptable is nearly infinite. There are hundreds of absolutely mind-boggling things I could point to from the past decade...But three election in a row, Mr. Trump has been a viable Presidential candidate and our democracy has few guardrails to protect the country from the clear and present danger he and his political appointees will continue to confer upon us. Clearly, Mr. Trump is successful because of his faults, not despite them, because we do not live in a just world...And now Republicans will control the executive branch, the Senate and the House of Representatives. There will be few checks and balances...

...Mr. Trump's voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity.

We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.

These are adults, so let us treat them like adults. Let us acknowledge that they want to believe nonsense and conjecture. They want to believe anything that affirms their worldview. They want to celebrate a leader who allows them to nurture their basest beliefs about others. The biggest challenge of our lifetime will be figuring out how to combat the American willingness to embrace flagrant misinformation and bigotry.

As Mr. Trump assembles his cabinet of loyalists and outlines the alarming policies he means to enact, it's hard not to imagine the worst, not out of paranoia but as a means of preparation. The incoming President has clearly articulated that he may dismantle the Department of Education and appears to be giving the wealthiest man in the world unfettered access to the Oval Office. He plans to begin mass deportations immediately and has announced his pick of a Fox News host as the defense secretary -- the list goes on, each promise more appalling than the last.

We would like to believe that many of the ideas on Mr. Trump's demented wish list won't actually come to fruition and that our democracy can once more withstand the new President and the people with whom he surrounds himself. But that is just desperate, wishful thinking. As of yet, there is nothing that will break the iron grip Mr. Trump has on his base, and Vice President-elect JD Vance is young enough to carry the mantle going forward for political cycles to come.

Absolutely anything is possible, and we must acknowledge this, not out of surrender, but as a means of readying ourselves for the impossible fights ahead."

-- Roxane Gay, "Enough", The New York Times, November 17, 2024.

This is one of the best, most spot-on pieces about where we are and what we must prepare ourselves for in the aftermath of Donald Trump's re-election to the Presidency. These gift links will allow you to bypass the NYT paywall and read the entire article, and I urge you to share these links with as many people as you'd like.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

They were warned

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

Truth is provisional! Sometimes, the things we understand to be true about the world change, and stuff we've "always done" has to change, too. There comes a day when the evidence against using radium suppositories is overwhelming, and then you really must dig that radium out of your colon and safely dispose of it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/19/just-stop-putting-that-up-your-ass/#harm-reduction

So it's natural and right that in the world, there will be people who want to revisit the received wisdom and best practices for how we live our lives, regulate our economy, and organize our society. But not a license to simply throw out the systems we rely on. Sure, maybe they're outdated or unnecessary, but maybe not. That's where "Chesterton's Fence" comes in:

Let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, "I don't see the use of this; let us clear it away." To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: "If you don't see the use of it, I certainly won't let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G._K._Chesterton#Chesterton's_fence

In other words, it's not enough to say, "This principle gets in the way of something I want to do, so let's throw it out because I'm pretty sure the inconvenience I'm experiencing is worse than the consequences of doing away with this principle." You need to have a theory of how you will prevent the harms the principle protects us from once you tear it down. That theory can be "the harms are imaginary" so it doesn't matter. Like, if you get rid of all the measures that defend us from hexes placed by evil witches, it's OK to say, "This is safe because evil witches aren't real and neither are hexes."

But you'd better be sure! After all, some preventative measures work so well that no living person has experienced the harms they guard us against. It's easy to mistake these for imaginary or exaggerated. Think of the antivaxers who are ideologically committed to a world in which human beings do not have a shared destiny, meaning that no one has a moral claim over the choices you make. Motivated reasoning lets those people rationalize their way into imagining that measles – a deadly and ferociously contagious disease that was a scourge for millennia until we all but extinguished it – was no big deal:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Measles:_A_Dangerous_Illness

There's nothing wrong with asking whether longstanding health measures need to be carried on, or whether they can be sunset. But antivaxers' sloppy, reckless reasoning about contagious disease is inexcusable. They were warned, repeatedly, about the mass death and widespread lifelong disability that would follow from their pursuit of an ideological commitment to living as though their decisions have no effect on others. They pressed ahead anyway, inventing ever-more fanciful reasons why health is a purely private matter, and why "public health" was either a myth or a Communist conspiracy:

https://www.conspirituality.net/episodes/brief-vinay-prasad-pick-me-campaign

When RFK Jr kills your kids with measles or permanently disables them with polio, he doesn't get to say "I was just inquiring as to the efficacy of a longstanding measure, as is right and proper." He was told why the vaccine fence was there, and he came up with objectively very stupid reasons why that didn't matter, and then he killed your kids. He was warned.

Fuck that guy.

Or take Bill Clinton. From 1933 until 1999, American banks were regulated under the Glass-Steagall Act, which "structurally separated" them. Under structural separation, a "retail bank" – the bank that holds your savings and mortgage and provides you with a checkbook – could not be "investment bank." That meant it couldn't own or invest in businesses that competed with the businesses its depositors and borrowers ran. It couldn't get into other lines of business, either, like insurance underwriting.

Glass-Steagall was a fence that stood between retail banks and the casino economy. It was there for a fucking great reason: the failure to structurally separate banks allowed them to act like casinos, inflating a giant market bubble that popped on Black Friday in October 1929, kicking off the Great Depression. Congress built the structural separation fence to keep banks from doing it again.

In the 1990s, Bill Clinton agitated for getting rid of Glass-Steagall. He argued that new economic controls would allow the government to prevent another giant bubble and crash. This time, the banks would behave themselves. After all, hadn't they demonstrated their prudence for seven decades?

In fact, they hadn't. Every time banks figured out how to slip out of regulatory constraints they inflated another huge bubble, leading to another massive crash that made the rich obscenely richer and destroyed ordinary savers' lives. Clinton took office just as one of these finance-sector bombs – the S&L Crisis – was detonating. Clinton had no basis – apart from wishful thinking – to believe that deregulating banks would lead to anything but another gigantic crash.

But Clinton let his self interest – in presiding over a sugar-high economic expansion driven by deregulation – overrule his prudence (about the crash that would follow). Sure enough, in the last months of Clinton's presidency, the stock market imploded with the March 2000 dot-bomb. And because Congress learned nothing from the dot-com crash and declined to restore the Glass-Steagall fence, the crash led to another bubble, this time in subprime mortgages, and then, inevitably, we suffered the Great Financial Crisis.

Look: there's no virtue in having bank regulations for the sake of having them. It is conceptually possible for bank regulations to be useless or even harmful. There's nothing wrong with investigating whether the 70-year old Glass-Steagall Act was still needed in 1999. But Clinton was provided with a mountain of evidence about why Glass-Steagall was the only thing standing between Americans and economic chaos, including the evidence of the S&L Crisis, which was still underway when he took office, and he ignored all of them. If you lost everything – your home, your savings, your pension – in the dot-bomb or the Great Financial Crisis, Bill Clinton is to blame. He was warned. he ignored the warnings.

Fuck that guy.

No, seriously, fuck Bill Clinton. Deregulating banks wasn't Clinton's only passion. He also wanted to ban working cryptography. The cornerstone of Clinton's tech policy was the "Clipper Chip," a backdoored encryption chip that, by law, every technology was supposed to use. If Clipper had gone into effect, then cops, spooks, and anyone who could suborn, bribe, or trick a cop or a spook could break into any computer, server, mobile device, or embedded system in America.

When Clinton was told – over and over, in small, easy-to-understand words – that there was no way to make a security system that only worked when "bad guys" tried to break into it, but collapsed immediately if a "good guy" wanted to bypass it. We explained to him – oh, how we explained to him! – that working encryption would be all that stood between your pacemaker's firmware and a malicious update that killed you where you stood; all that stood between your antilock brakes' firmware and a malicious update that sent you careening off a cliff; all that stood between businesses and corporate espionage, all that stood between America and foreign state adversaries wanting to learn its secrets.

In response, Clinton said the same thing that all of his successors in the Crypto Wars have said: NERD HARDER! Just figure it out. Cops need to look at bad guys' phones, so you need to figure out how to make encryption that keeps teenagers safe from sextortionists, but melts away the second a cop tries to unlock a suspect's phone. Take Malcolm Turnbull, the former Australian Prime Minister. When he was told that the laws of mathematics dictated that it was impossible to build selectively effective encryption of the sort he was demanding, he replied, "The laws of mathematics are very commendable but the only law that applies in Australia is the law of Australia":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/07/australian-pm-calls-end-end-encryption-ban-says-laws-mathematics-dont-apply-down

Fuck that guy. Fuck Bill Clinton. Fuck a succession of UK Prime Ministers who have repeatedly attempted to ban working encryption. Fuck 'em all. The stakes here are obscenely high. They have been warned, and all they say in response is "NERD HARDER!"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

Now, of course, "crypto means cryptography," but the other crypto – cryptocurrency – deserves a look-in here. Cryptocurrency proponents advocate for a system of deregulated money creation, AKA "wildcat currencies." They say, variously, that central banks are no longer needed; or that we never needed central banks to regulate the money supply. Let's take away that fence. Why not? It's not fit for purpose today, and maybe it never was.

Why do we have central banks? The Fed – which is far from a perfect institution and could use substantial reform or even replacement – was created because the age of wildcat currencies was a nightmare. Wildcat currencies created wild economic swings, massive booms and even bigger busts. Wildcat currencies are the reason that abandoned haunted mansions feature so heavily in the American imagination: American towns and cities were dotted with giant mansions built by financiers who'd grown rich as bubbles expanded, then lost it all after the crash.

Prudent management of the money supply didn't end those booms and busts, but it substantially dampened them, ending the so-called "business cycle" that once terrorized Americans, destroying their towns and livelihoods and wiping out their savings.

It shouldn't surprise us that a new wildcat money sector, flogging "decentralized" cryptocurrencies (that they are nevertheless weirdly anxious to swap for your gross, boring old "fiat" money) has created a series of massive booms and busts, with insiders getting richer and richer, and retail investors losing everything.

If there was ever any doubt about whether wildcat currencies could be made safe by putting them on a blockchain, it is gone. Wildcat currencies are as dangerous today as they were in the 18th and 19th century – only moreso, since this new bad paper relies on the endless consumption of whole rainforests' worth of carbon, endangering not just our economy, but also the habitability of the planet Earth.

And nevertheless, the Trump administration is promising a new crypto golden age (or, ahem, a Gilded Age). And there are plenty of Democrats who continue to throw in with the rotten, corrupt crypto industry, which flushed billions into the 2024 election to bring Trump to office. The result is absolutely going to be more massive bubbles and life-destroying implosions. Fuck those guys. They were warned, and they did it anyway.

Speaking of the climate emergency: greetings from smoky Los Angeles! My city's on fire. This was not an unforeseeable disaster. Malibu is the most on-fire place in the world:

https://longreads.com/2018/12/04/the-case-for-letting-malibu-burn/

Since 1919, the region has been managed on the basis of "total fire suppression." This policy continued long after science showed that this creates "fire debt" in the form of accumulated fuel. The longer you go between fires, the hotter and more destructive those fires become, and the relationship is nonlinear. A 50-year fire isn't 250% more intense than a 20-year fire: it's 50,000% more intense.

Despite this, California has invested peanuts in regular controlled burns, which has created biennial uncontrolled burns – wildfires that cost thousands of times more than any controlled burn.

Speaking of underinvestment: PG&E has spent decades extracting dividends for its investors and bonuses for its execs, while engaging in near-total neglect of maintenance of its high-voltage transmission lines. Even with normal winds, these lines routinely fall down and start blazes.

But we don't have normal winds. The climate emergency has been steadily worsening for decades. LA is just the latest place to be on fire, or under water, or under ice, or baking in wet bulb temperatures. Last week in southern California, we were warned to expect gusts of 120mph.

They were warned. #ExxonKnew: in the early 1970s, Exxon's own scientists warned them that fossil fuel consumption would kick off climate change so drastic that it would endanger human civilzation. Exxon responded by burying the reports and investing in climate denial:

https://exxonknew.org/

They were warned! Warned about fire debt. Warned about transmission lines. Warned about climate change. And specific, named people, who individually had the power to heed these warnings and stave off disaster, ignored the warnings. They didn't make honest mistakes, either: they ignored the warnings because doing so made them extraordinarily, disgustingly rich. They used this money to create dynastic fortunes, and have created entire lineages of ultra-wealthy princelings in $900,000 watches who owe it all to our suffering and impending dooml

Fuck those guys. Fuck 'em all.

We've had so many missed opportunities, chances to make good policy or at least not make bad policy. The enshitternet didn't happen on its own. It was the foreseeable result of choices – again, choices made by named individuals who became very wealthy by ignoring the warnings all around them.

Let's go back to Bill Clinton, because more than anyone else, Clinton presided over some terrible technology regulations. In 1998, Clinton signed the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, a bill championed by Barney Frank (fuck that guy, too). Under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, it's a felony, punishable by a five year prison sentence, and a $500,000 fine, to tamper with a "digital lock."

That means that if HP uses a digital lock to prevent you from using third-party ink, it's a literal crime to bypass that lock. Which is why HP ink now costs $10,000/gallon, and why you print your shopping lists with colored water that costs more, ounce for ounce, than the sperm of a Kentucky Derby winner:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/30/life-finds-a-way/#ink-stained-wretches

Clinton was warned that DMCA 1201 would soon metastasize into every kind of device – not just the games consoles and DVD players where it was first used, but medical implants, tractors, cars, home appliances – anything you could put a microchip into (Jay Freeman calls this "felony contempt of business-model"):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

He ignored those warnings and signed the DMCA anyway (fuck that guy). Then, under Bush (fuck that guy), the US Trade Representative went all around the world demanding that America's trading partners adopt versions of this law (fuck that guy). In 2001, the European Parliament capitulated, enacting the EU Copyright Directive, whose Article 6 is a copy-paste of DMCA 1201 (fuck all those people).

Fast forward 20 years, and boy is there a lot of shit with microchips that can be boobytrapped with rent-extracting logic bombs that are illegal to research, describe, or disable.

Like choo-choo trains.

Last year, the Polish hacking group Dragon Sector was contacted by a public sector train company whose Newag trains kept going out of service. The operator suspected that Newag had boobytrapped the trains to punish the train company for getting its maintenance from a third-party contractor. When Dragon Sector investigated, they discovered that Newag had indeed riddled the trains' firmware with boobytraps. Trains that were taken to locations known to have third-party maintenance workshops were immediately bricked (hilariously, this bomb would detonate if trains just passed through stations near to these workshops, which is why another train company had to remove all the GPSes from its trains – they kept slamming to a halt when they approached a station near a third-party workshop). But Newag's logic bombs would brick trains for all kinds of reasons – merely keeping a train stationary for too many days would result in its being bricked. Installing a third-party component in a locomotive would also trigger a bomb, bricking the train.

In their talk at last year's Chaos Communications Congress, the Dragon Sector folks describe how they have been legally terrorized by Newag, which has repeatedly sued them for violating its "intellectual property" by revealing its sleazy, corrupt business practices. They also note that Newag continues to sell lots of trains in Poland, despite the widespread knowledge of its dirty business model, because public train operators are bound by procurement rules, and as long as Newag is the cheapest bidder, they get the contract:

https://media.ccc.de/v/38c3-we-ve-not-been-trained-for-this-life-after-the-newag-drm-disclosure

The laws that let Newag make millions off a nakedly corrupt enterprise – and put the individuals who blew the whistle on it at risk of losing everything – were passed by Members of the European Parliament who were warned that this would happen, and they ignored those warnings, and now it's happening. Fuck those people, every one of 'em.

It's not just European parliamentarians who ignored warnings and did the bidding of the US Trade Representative, enacting laws that banned tampering with digital locks. In 2010, two Canadian Conservative Party ministers in the Stephen Harper government brought forward similar legislation. These ministers, Tony Clement (now a disgraced sex-pest and PPE grifter) and James Moore (today, a sleazeball white-shoe corporate lawyer), held a consultation on this proposal.

6, 138 people wrote in to say, "Don't do this, it will be hugely destructive." 54 respondents wrote in support of it. Clement and Moore threw out the 6,138 opposing comments. Moore explained why: these were the "babyish" responses of "radical extremists." The law passed in 2012.

Last year, the Canadian Parliament passed bills guaranteeing Canadians the Right to Repair and the right to interoperability. But Canadians can't act on either of these laws, because they would have to tamper with a digital lock to do so, and that's illegal, thanks to Tony Clement and James Moore. Who were warned. And who ignored those warnings. Fuck those guys:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/15/radical-extremists/#sex-pest

Back in the 1990s, Bill Clinton had a ton of proposals for regulating the internet, but nowhere among those proposals will you find a consumer privacy law. The last time an American president signed a consumer privacy law was 1988, when Reagan signed the Video Privacy Protection Act and ensured that Americans would never have to worry that video-store clerks where telling the newspapers what VHS cassettes they took home.

In the years since, Congress has enacted exactly zero consumer privacy laws. None. This has allowed the out-of-control, unregulated data broker sector to metastasize into a cancer on the American people. This is an industry that fuels stalkers, discriminatory financial and hiring algorithms, and an ad-tech sector that lets advertisers target categories like "teenagers with depression," "seniors with dementia" and "armed service personnel with gambling addictions."

When the people cry out for privacy protections, Congress – and the surveillance industry shills that fund them – say we don't need a privacy law. The market will solve this problem. People are selling their privacy willingly, and it would be an "undue interference in the market" if we took away your "freedom to contract" by barring companies from spying on you after you clicked the "I agree" button.

These people have been repeatedly warned about the severe dangers to the American public – as workers, as citizens, as community members, and as consumers – from the national privacy free-for-all, and have done nothing. Fuck them, every one:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Now, even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and not every one of Bill Clinton's internet policies was terrible. He had exactly one great policy, and, ironically, that's the one there's the most energy for dismantling. That policy is Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (a law that was otherwise such a dumpster fire that the courts struck it down). Chances are, you have been systematically misled about the history, use, and language of Section 230, which is wild, because it's exactly 26 words long and fits in a single tweet:

No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider.

Section 230 was passed because when companies were held liable for their users' speech, they "solved" this problem by just blocking every controversial thing a user said. Without Section 230, there would be no Black Lives Matter, no #MeToo – no online spaces where the powerful were held to account. Meanwhile, rich and powerful people would continue to enjoy online platforms where they and their bootlickers could pump out the most grotesque nonsense imaginable, either because they owned those platforms (ahem, Twitter and Truth Social) or because rich and powerful people can afford the professional advice needed to navigate the content-moderation bureaucracies of large systems.

We know exactly what the internet looks like when platforms are civilly liable for their users' speech: it's an internet where marginalized and powerless people are silenced, and where the people who've got a boot on their throats are the only voices you can hear:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

The evidence for this isn't limited to the era of AOL and Prodigy. In 2018, Trump signed SESTA/FOSTA, a law that held platforms liable for "sex trafficking." Advocates for this law – like Ashton Kutcher, who campaigns against sexual assault unless it involves one of his friends, in which case he petitions the judge for leniency – were warned that it would be used to shut down all consensual sex work online, making sex workers's lives much more dangerous. This warnings were immediately borne out, and they have been repeatedly borne out every month since. Killing CDA 230 for sex work brought back pimping, exposed sex workers to grave threats to their personal safety, and made them much poorer:

https://decriminalizesex.work/advocacy/sesta-fosta/what-is-sesta-fosta/

It also pushed sex trafficking and other nonconsensual sex into privateforums that are much harder for law enforcement to monitor and intervene in, making it that much harder to catch sex traffickers:

https://cdt.org/insights/its-all-downsides-hybrid-fosta-sesta-hinders-law-enforcement-hurts-victims-and-speakers/

This is exactly what SESTA/FOSTA's advocates were warned of. They were warned. They did it anyway. Fuck those people.

Maybe you have a theory about how platforms can be held civilly liable for their users' speech without harming marginalized people in exactly the way that SESTA/FOSTA, it had better amount to more than "platforms are evil monopolists and CDA 230 makes their lives easier." Yes, they're evil monopolists. Yes, 230 makes their lives easier. But without 230, small forums – private message boards, Mastodon servers, Bluesky, etc – couldn't possibly operate.

There's a reason Mark Zuckerberg wants to kill CDA 230, and it's not because he wants to send Facebook to the digital graveyard. Zuck knows that FB can operate in a post-230 world by automating the deletion of all controversial speech, and he knows that small services that might "disrupt" Facebook's hegemony would be immediately extinguished by eliminating 230:

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/zuckerberg-calls-changes-techs-section-230-protections-rcna486

It's depressing to see so many comrades in the fight against Big Tech getting suckered into carrying water for Zuck, demanding the eradication of CDA 230. Please, I beg you: look at the evidence for what happens when you remove that fence. Heed the warnings. Don't be like Bill Clinton, or California fire suppression officials, or James Moore and Tony Clement, or the European Parliament, or the US Trade Rep, or cryptocurrency freaks, or Malcolm Turnbull.

Or Ashton fucking Kutcher.

Because, you know, fuck those guys.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/13/wanting-it-badly/#is-not-enough

[cazshmere]

Advice & Support for the Moon Signs 🫂

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER : Just a little reminder that you're doing great, even when it doesn't feel like it. Life can be tough, but you’re tougher, and the storm will pass. You are so deeply loved, just as you are, and it's perfectly okay to take a step back when you need to. Give yourself permission to rest, to breathe, and to simply be. You’re not alone—there’s a world of support around you, even in the quiet moments. Hold on, because better days are coming, and until then, know that you’re wrapped in warmth, care, and endless encouragement. You've got this!🩵🫂

🩵 Aries Moon

1. You don’t need to prove yourself to anybody. You are absolutely loved just the way you are.

2. Learn to balance your need for independence with the importance of meaningful connections.

3. Don’t let impulsiveness lead you to make decisions that you may regret later. Take time before you react and to think things through.

4. Embrace your natural leadership qualities, but remember to consider the needs of others too.

5. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it. You don’t always have to do everything on your own.

🩵 Taurus Moon

1. It’s okay to stay in your comfort zone at times. Don’t feel ashamed for taking some time for yourself.

2. It's okay to hold back from sharing your viewpoint at times, especially if you're not fully convinced of it yourself. Try to remain open to other perspectives and avoid being too fixed in your opinions.

3. Appreciate the beauty in the small things around you. It’s the little moments that make life rich.

4. Don’t let the fear of change keep you from evolving. Growth often requires stepping into the unknown.

5. Prioritize self-care and surround yourself with things that bring you peace and comfort.

🩵 Gemini Moon

1. Your thoughts are not who you are. Don’t define yourself based on them; you are so much more. Learn to separate yourself from your thoughts.

2. Stay curious and open to learning new things, but don’t overwhelm yourself with too many interests at once.

3. Take time to connect with your inner self, beyond the constant stream of thoughts.

4. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind, but remember that listening is just as important as talking.

5. Cultivate deeper relationships by sharing your thoughts and ideas with those who truly understand you.

🩵 Cancer Moon

1. It’s okay to put your needs ahead of others. You deserve the same amount of love and care that you give to others.

2. Create a safe emotional space for yourself, where you can retreat and recharge.

3. Don’t be afraid to express your emotions. It’s okay to be vulnerable with those you trust.

4. Build a supportive network of loved ones who appreciate your nurturing nature.

5. Trust your instincts when it comes to people. Your intuition is a powerful guide.

🩵 Leo Moon

1. You don’t need anyone’s approval; you are the amazing just the way you are, it might not be easy to accept this but trust me it is GENUINELY true.

2. Shine brightly and embrace your unique talents, but remember that true confidence comes from within.

3. Don’t be afraid to take the spotlight, but also allow others to shine beside you.

4. Surround yourself with people who uplift you and celebrate your successes.

5. Remember that your self-worth is not tied to external validation. You are worthy just as you are.

🩵 Virgo Moon

1. Take a breather. Let’s count down together : 5…4…3...2...1... okay now that you’re back to the present here it goes, you have nothing to worry about and everything around you is already fine or will get better soon, don’t loose hope. When you do feel anxious, try grounding methods and focus on the present.

2. Embrace the beauty in imperfection. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and appreciated.

3. Practice self-compassion and don’t be too hard on yourself when things don’t go as planned.

4. Find healthy outlets for your analytical mind, like journaling or creative projects.

5. Remember that it’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to do everything on your own.

🩵 Libra Moon

1. You don’t have to be nice to everyone. It’s okay to stand up to people who treat you poorly.

2. Seek balance in your relationships, but don’t sacrifice your own needs to keep the peace.

3. Surround yourself with people who make you feel calm and balanced as it is better for your mental wellbeing.

4. Don’t be afraid to make decisions, even if it means disappointing others. Your happiness matters too.

5. Cultivate meaningful connections that bring joy and balance into your life.

🩵 Scorpio Moon

1. I know it’s hard to be vulnerable and truly express yourself to others, but you need an outlet for your emotions. Try journaling or recording a voice memo to let yourself fully feel your emotions.

2. Embrace your depth and intensity—yes, you feel emotions more deeply than most, and there's nothing to be afraid of. It’s genuinely beautiful. Experiencing emotions at such a profound level is a gift, but be mindful not to let it overwhelm you.

3. Trust yourself to handle whatever challenges come your way. You are stronger than you think.

4. Don’t be afraid to let others in. True connections are formed when you allow yourself to be seen.

5. Remember that healing takes time. Be patient with yourself as you work through your emotions.

🩵 Sagittarius Moon

1. It’s okay to cry without immediately having to laugh afterward. Crying is just as beautiful as laughing, so please remember to let yourself feel your emotions.

2. Embrace your adventurous spirit, but remember that it’s okay to slow down and rest when needed.

3. Don’t be afraid to explore new perspectives and ideas. Growth comes from expanding your horizons.

4. Cultivate optimism, but also allow yourself to process difficult emotions without brushing them aside.

5. Surround yourself with people who share your enthusiasm for life and support your dreams.

🩵 Capricorn Moon

1. You don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations but your own. In the end, it’s what you want and you feel that matters. If something isn’t bringing you happiness, don’t force yourself to go through with it.

2. Focus on building a solid foundation for your future, but remember to enjoy the present moment.

3. Don’t let the pressure to succeed weigh you down. Take time to relax and recharge.

4. Surround yourself with people who respect your boundaries and support your goals.

5. Trust in your abilities and know that your hard work will pay off in time.

🩵 Aquarius Moon

1. Your feelings shouldn’t be shoved under a rug. It’s okay to feel; emotions are natural and an integral part of being human. Don’t be ashamed to vent to others.

2. Embrace your uniqueness and don’t be afraid to stand out from the crowd.

3. Surround yourself with like-minded individuals who appreciate your vision and ideas.

4. Don’t let the fear of vulnerability keep you from forming deep connections. You deserve meaningful relationships.

5. Remember that it’s okay to change your mind and evolve. Growth is a lifelong journey.

🩵 Pisces Moon

1. Sometimes people take advantage of your caring personality. Don’t let your guard down easily, and be very careful with those around you. As a Pisces Moon, you can sense energies, and energy never lies.

2. Embrace your sensitivity as a strength, but also set boundaries to protect your energy.

3. Don’t be afraid to dream big, but stay grounded in reality to make those dreams come true.

4. Cultivate a spiritual practice that helps you connect with your inner self and find peace.

5. Surround yourself with people who understand and appreciate your compassionate nature.

banner/pic credits @/ecojinri

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[katherinemckay]

one musical to movie change i haven't really seen anyone talk about is the subtle difference in how glinda's potential future with the wizard is laid out to her before defying gravity (and how that changes how you can read her motivations).

in the musical the wizard explictly says "you have so many opportunities ahead of you - you both do" and then that's that, so glinda has reason to believe she has a legitimate future with the wizard regardless of whether elphaba's there. this can play into the interpretation that she stays behind for her own ambitions - she clearly has opportunities waiting for her.

however, this actually isn't how it comes across in the movie, at least to me. the wizard's original inclusion of glinda in his plans is changed from explicitly mentioning opportunity to just "you having a home here [...] and if it'll make you happy, possibly, your friend." in the movie version, the wizard directly states only that glinda would be joining them in the palace - and it's merely a suggestion as an addition to elphaba (she's even just referred to as her friend, not being spoken directly to) to make elphaba want to stay, rather than him describing glinda as someone who could have her own individual opportunities.

then, when elphaba runs away, morrible tells glinda "you want to do yourself some good, bring her back." here, morrible now suggests that glinda could do something for herself and her individual future. what i find interesting is that glinda instead jumps on the hot air balloon with elphaba and even fights off the guards with her. while glinda does try to talk elphaba down for awhile ("let's just have a word with them," "you've got to let him explain," etc.), she ultimately abandons this approach by the time elphaba has chosen to defy gravity.

in the movie, glinda goes against morrible's direct orders of bringing elphaba back when she accepts elphaba's choice to leave and helps her get ready. this means that by supporting elphaba in her decision, glinda actually abandons the chance she believes she has to finally get in with morrible (and by extension the wizard). in movie-verse, glinda really has no reason to believe staying behind without elphaba could advance her own ambitions, because both the wizard and morrible have laid out a potential future for her that is reliant on having elphaba at her side and keeping elphaba compliant to them (and using glinda to do that). i don't think that movie!glinda ultimately stays behind for selfish/power-seeking reasons, because the wizard and morrible haven't actually suggested to her that she has a path alongside them as an individual. (they also just truly show no interest in glinda as an individual person in a much more obvious way than in the musical, but that could be its own post.)

ariana grande has spoken a couple times on how one of the emotions glinda feels in the added hug scene with morrible is relief, and i think this all is why. glinda chose to stay behind while helping elphaba escape, knowing it was disobeying what was asked of her. given glinda is also being detained by the guards in that moment, i think that relief comes from her genuinely not having known if she would be safe or would become essentially a prisoner after staying behind, and feeling relief when morrible does free/accept her and suggests there's still a path for her.

there's definitely moral grayness to discuss with how glinda accepts her position within the regime and settles into it, but i think (in movie-verse) the actual choice to stay behind isn't one of those moments — it wasn't established to glinda that staying behind without elphaba could actually lead her to power and opportunity with the wizard, and she directly goes against the one path to power that was suggested to her by helping elphaba leave.

[bixels]

Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).

I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.

Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.

Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.

So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.

Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.

Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.

I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)

Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.

That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.

[ninii-winchester]

Fleeting love

Pairing : Teen!Dean Winchester X Teen!Reader

Word count : 4k

Warnings : angst, mentions of period, fluff, john winchester (he’s a warning himself), heartbreak, not an AU, not proofread.

A/n: i love high school love stories, I’m not sorry for dragging it 😭

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean didn’t want to go to school. He wanted to hunt. Just like his father taught him to. Although John Winchester trained his boys to be hunters from the very start, he remembered his late wife Mary Winchester wanted her boys to have a normal life. And honouring her wishes, John decided his boys at-least deserve to have a high school experience. While Sam was happy to attend school Dean was throwing a fit. He considered himself better than a high school kid and it deeply bruised his ego to sit in a classroom with kids that were unaware of what goes bump in the night or what Dean Winchester was capable of.

John told his boys that they’d stay in the same town for four years while Dean completed his high school and then they’d move for Sam to complete his’ somewhere else. With that being decided it was a given that John would be gone a lot and the boys had to have each other’s back. John persuaded his eldest by promising him the keys of the Impala if he made it to his junior year with good grades. That was the only motivation that made Dean get out of bed everyday and to engage in focused study. For two years Dean dragged his feet to school and finally after passing his sophomore year at the top of his class, he got the Impala for himself.

Dean parked the car in the school parking and Sam jumped out of the car excitedly running to his class. Dean rolled his eyes and made his way towards his own class. He mostly kept to himself in class, girls swooned over him as he walked the hallways, no matter what grade they were in. The boys envied him since he had the looks, physique and was on top of his class as well. It was hard to categorise him as a bad boy or a good boy. He had his fair share of fights with jocks and make outs with cheerleaders. And now to top it all he had a badass car as well.

A scowl appeared on his face as soon as he entered the classroom. A girl from his class, he hadn’t bothered to know her name, was sitting in his seat, all the way in the back beside the window. He stomped his feet as he walked over to her. Damn she’s gorgeous. But that’s not the point,— Dean shook his head before he spoke,

“You’re in my seat.” He glared at her. She jumped a bit at his voice but then she relaxed. She looked up at him glared back at him.

“What are you, five?” She retorted leaning back in the chair. He breathed through his nose and urged her to get out of his seat but she remained indifferent. She sucked her pen between her lips and stared at his face with a frown. His face flashed with confusion at the change of her attitude. “Can I sit here please? I’m having a bad day.” She said softly and Dean could’ve sworn she was bipolar the way she changed her tone within seconds. With a loud sigh he dropped his bag on the table next to hers and sat on the chair. She sent him a grateful smile and he just nodded. The teacher entered the class and started teaching, after a few minutes passed the girl whispered. “I’m Y/n.” Dean looked at her blankly and turned to face ahead.

Normally teenagers think about relationships, falling in love, but Dean had already internalised to stay far from these attachments, finish school to please his dad so he can finally hunt. But the pretty girl next to him was already causing him to waver in his decision. He was teenager a of-course he felt attracted to a beautiful woman. The class ended pretty soon and the kids were rushing out as fast as humanly possible but she remained seated and Dean noticed.

“Not going to the next class?” He couldn’t help but ask, she had her head down on the desk and her hair was falling on her face which made Dean want to tuck it behind her ear. —God what is wrong with me. He groaned internally.

“No!” She pouted and Dean held back from kissing her right there. He had barely noticed her existence in the past two years and now he’s having these passionate thoughts about her.

“Skipping class?” Dean smirked, she didn’t look like someone who’d skip class for fun. She shook her head at his question and Dean wondered if there’s something wrong with her. He raised his brow at her but she didn’t respond. She sat up straight and stared at her lap. “What’s up then? Can’t help you if you won’t tell.” Dean shrugged.

She didn’t know whether she should tell him, he’ll probably make fun of her. She’s known him for two years, they’re in the same class but he never acknowledged her. He barely has friends and he seemed rude. But he’s asking right? That should mean something! —She thought to herself. “I’m having a bad day.” She finally said and she didn’t expect him to roll his eyes at her.

“You told me that before.” He crossed his arms across his chest. She felt small under his gaze but something made her feel safe too.

“I woke up late and forgot my homework at home.” She whispered. “I got my period early and it stained my pants.” Dean was caught off guard and he felt embarrassed. Yeah he knows what a menstrual cycle is but he’s never had the first hand experience of dealing with someone on their period. But that sure does explain her change of mood. He didn’t speak for a minute and then he shrugged of his jacket and extended it to her.

“Here, you can wear it, it’ll probably cover you.” His jacket was huge, she was pretty small compared to him and it would cover her up good. “Do you want me to walk you to the nurse’s office?” As much as she wanted him to, she didn’t want any rumours to spread about him and her. She shook her head politely.

“I’ll manage. Thank you for the jacket Dean. I’ll return it tomorrow.” She smiled standing up and slipped her arms inside the jacket. She kissed his cheek, both of their faces turned red and she quickly rushed out of the room. Dean stood frozen. He’s never felt this way before, blushing over a kiss over the cheek. He’s done way more than that but this made his heart flutter.

The next morning Y/n was at her locker, Dean’s jacket draped over her arm, she knew everyone saw her wearing his jacket yesterday and she could hear them talk. From her interaction with him she could tell he was a nice person but his reputation preceded him, he was popular and was always found making out with a new girl every week. She didn’t want to be one of those girls so she decided, she would return his jacket and go back to never talking to him again. However her plan was ruined when Dean appeared by her side, he leaned against against the locker beside her flashing her his annoyingly perfect smile.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” Dean asked and she looked around to see all eyes on them. He couldn’t explain why he was drawn to her; it was just a gut feeling, a spark he felt. He thought about her the whole day when he went back home. He knew she’d be stuck in his mind, lingering there longer than a stranger ever should.

“Better.” She replied and handed him his jacket. “Thanks, Dean.” She said before closing her locker and turning to go to class. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her into him.

“Let’s walk to class together?” Although he asked her it was more like a statement. She gulped before nodding her head. All the girls’ jaws practically hit the floor as they watched Dean lead Y/n to class.

For the following week Dean could be found wherever Y/n was. He practically walked her to her every class, turned down girls left and right and he finally worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. At first she was skeptical at his sudden interest in her, and she turned him down. He followed her like a lost puppy for another two weeks.

“Dean what the hell.!” She exclaimed as he cornered her after class ended. “Why’re you interested in me suddenly?” She folded her arms across her chest.

“I like you. And I wanna take you out on a date.” He replied, his green eyes staring into hers intently.

“I’m not going to be one of those girls you make out with and then dump.” she said, her voice firm but laced with vulnerability. She wasn’t trying to play hard to get—she just knew her worth and wasn’t about to let herself be another passing fling. Dean wanted to feel offended but he knew he had a reputation and he didn’t blame her.

“Just one date." he said, a teasing grin on his face. There was a playful challenge in his eyes, like he knew she was tempted but wouldn’t admit it. He leaned in slightly, his tone softening. “One date to prove I genuinely like you.” His eyes softened and she could feel herself getting lost in his eyes.

“Fine.” She nodded begrudgingly. She knew he wouldn’t have left her alone unless she agreed. She weighed the pros and cons and the situation seemed to be in her favour. He’s got one date to prove himself, if he failed she’d make sure he left her alone and if he did turn out decent enough she might get herself a hot boyfriend. She rolled her eyes at herself,— Dean Winchester and boyfriend don’t go in the same sentence.

The day of the date arrived sooner than Y/n wanted it to. She slipped on a simple sundress and kept her makeup minimal. She heard the doorbell ring, she said goodbye to her mom before rushing to open the door. Not only was Dean on time, he bought her flowers too. She smiled at him taking the flowers from him. He told her she looked beautiful and held her hand to lead her to the car. He opened the car door for her too. The two had dinner at local diner and he was a complete gentleman the whole time. He didn’t make any moves on her, just talked and flirted a bit. Dean paid for the food and helped her into the car again.

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from smiling until her cheeks hurt. She never thought Dean be such a cutie. She thought of him as the bad boy who played around with girls but he proved himself.

“I had fun today. Thank you Dean.” She said putting her hand on his as he drove. He threw her a smirk.

“It’s not over yet, sweetheart.” Dean replied. She looked at him in confusion. She looked outside and realised he’s not driving her back home, instead they’re going towards the lakeside. She tensed, unbeknownst to Dean. She cursed herself for thinking too soon. He’s up to no good—Of course it’s not over yet. She rolled her eyes.

The car came to a halt and he got out of the car and opened her door to offer her his hand with a charming smile. She got out the car and he led her to the front of the car and faced her. He placed his hands on her waist and helped her onto the hood.

Y/n swore she was going to knee him where the sun doesn’t shine if he pulled anything. He let go off her and sat beside her on the hood. She looked at him, he felt her eyes on him and turned to her. He then raised his hand above them and pointed to the sky. When she looked up she saw the most beautiful canopy of stars stretching across the night. The sky was a deep, velvety black, speckled with countless twinkling lights. He brought her see stars. She cursed herself again — for thinking too soon.

The night was cool, the stars above casting a soft glow on them, adding a touch of magic to the moment.

“Sweetheart.” Dean took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I really like you, Y/n. This isn’t just a fling for me. I want to be more than just that bad boy reputation.”

In that moment Y/n didn’t know what came over her, but it was her who leaned in first. Dean’s gaze lingered on her face as he slowly leaned in, his eyes locking with hers. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and tender. She felt her heart race, the moment stretching out between them. When their lips finally met, it was soft and slow, a sweet, lingering kiss that conveyed more than words ever could.

One date turned into five, and each one seemed to deepen their connection. What started as a single evening of getting to know each other blossomed into a series of moments filled with laughter, shared secrets, and growing affection. On their sixth date, Dean asked her to be his girlfriend, and she accepted. Being with her made Dean forget about hunting and how he would have to leave in less than two years. He forgot about how his dad might react or how Y/n would respond if she learned about his life as a hunter.

The news of Y/n and Dean being a couple spread through school like wildfire. They became the power couple, and it was truly endearing to see them together. Dean was the best boyfriend Y/n could ever ask for—always doting on her, showering her with compliments and kisses. He was completely smitten, and Y/n was equally infatuated with him.

They often hung out at Dean’s place since his father was frequently away. Dean shared stories about his mother, telling Y/n how she had died in a house fire and how they had to move. He omitted the part about the unnatural circumstances surrounding her death. Y/n also got along well with Sam, Dean’s younger brother, who liked having her around. Dean was happy that his brother and girlfriend got along so well. Time passed in a blur and they were towards the end of their senior year. Y/n couldn’t believe they’d been together for a year and a half.

Y/n and Dean were cuddling on the couch of his living room when the front door opened and entered John Winchester. The man was pissed, he’d a particularly hard hunt and he called his son thrice but he didn’t respond. When he entered the living room he found the reason his son wasn’t answering his calls and his anger flared.

“Dean.” His voice boomed and the couple jumped up from their place. The older man glared at his son and Y/n squirmed beside Dean. “I called you thrice, son.” He said calmly but Dean knew he was anything but calm.

“My phone is in my room, I’m sorry sir.” Dean replied avoiding eye contact. John looked at Y/n and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh dad this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” John tilted his head as he heard the word girlfriend leave Dean’s mouth.

“Nice to you meet you, Mr Winchester.” Y/n managed to speak, the man was intimidating her. The older man nodded his head. “I think I should go. It’s late.” She looked at Dean sensing the tension in the air.

“I’ll drop you-“ Dean offered but Y/n saw John wasn’t too pleased with his offer and she shook her head, politely declining. “I’ll walk you to the door.” She nodded making her way towards the door. “Baby I’m sorry about dad.” She turned to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“It’s fine, sweetie. I can understand the shock, coming home and finding about his son’s girlfriend he knows nothing about.” She smiled.

“Yeah I didn’t want to tell him over the phone.” He rubbed the back of his head. She pecked his lips but he grabbed her waist pulling her into him, deepening the kiss.

“Okay lover boy. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” She smiled pulling away.

“I love you.” He mumbled against her lips.

“I love you too. Now go before he gets any more angry.” She pushed him back slightly. Dean went back inside after she had completely disappeared from his sight. He sighed knowing he’s going to an earful from his dad.

“What the hell Dean?” John exclaimed as soon as Dean entered the living room. “A girlfriend?” He yelled making Sam come out as well. Dean opened his mouth to speak but John interrupted him. “I called you thrice because the Rugaru was on my ass and I needed backup. And I come home and see you cuddling with some-”

“Don’t even say anything Dad.” Dean growled before his father could say something about his girlfriend.

“What’re you gonna tell her at the end of the year huh? What would you say about leaving? That you’re going off to college.” His father asked rhetorically and Dean clenched his jaw. “How do you think she’d react if you told her the truth. Can you even tell her the truth?” Dean stayed silent knowing there’s no way he could tell her the truth. John sighed before he placed a hand over his son’s shoulder. “End it before it hurts the both of you.” Was all he said before leaving his son standing there.

Dean contemplated his father’s words. No matter how harsh they were, it was the truth. He had to end it, he knew she would’ve believed him if he’d tell her the truth but he didn’t want her to be any kind of danger, that too because of him. The next day he met with her in school.

“Hey baby.” She kissed his nose as he wrapped his arms around her. “Everything good at home?” She asked wrapping her arms around his neck.

“All good, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead. He hated lying to her, he hated knowing he’s going to break her heart in a few days. He felt awful knowing he was going to break his promise of never hurting her—the promise of protecting the heart she’d entrusted to him. The weight of his impending actions pressed heavily on him, each moment deepening his regret as he faced the reality of the pain he would cause.

He spent the whole week with her, clinging to every moment. He kissed her as if his life depended on it—because, in a way, it did. Each kiss was a desperate attempt to savor their time together, knowing how fleeting their moments were.

The last week of school before finals was when Dean decided to do it. Y/n was studying hard for finals, so he knew that the distraction might lessen the heartbreak. He hoped that, amidst the stress and focus on exams, the pain of his decision would be somewhat mitigated by her busy schedule. He’d asked her to meet him at the park. He waited anxiously for her arrival. When she neared him with a skip in her step and a smile on her face he had half the heart not to go through with it.

“Hi.” Dean looked at her face, feeling the need to preserve the image of her face into his mind. As this would be last he’d have a good look at her gorgeous face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked cupping his cheek, seeing the anguish on his face and he leaned into her touch.

“I uh…Y/n, I’ve been struggling with how to say this, but I need to be honest with you.” Dean blinked back his tears not wanting her to see it was hurting him as much as it will hurt her. “I can’t do this anymore.” She chuckled as he said it. “I’m not joking Y/n.” He said angrily and she stared at him in shock.

“I promised myself I’d never hurt you, and the last thing I want is to be the reason for your pain.” Dean cleared his throat as tears formed in her eyes. “It’s not you—it’s me.”

“Dean what are you even- is it about your dad? Did he tell you to do this?” She asked tears dripping down her cheek. He shook his head.

“No he didn’t. We’ll start college soon. We can’t do long distance.” Dean said whatever came to his mind in that moment. He wanted to get over with it so he could go home and cry. He didn’t want to see her tear stricken face, when he’s unable to pull her into his arms and tell her it’ll all be okay.

“Yes we can baby. And if you think that’s a problem I can always go wherever you’re going.” She cried and he wanted to take every word back and gather her in his arms and never let go.

“I don’t want you to.” He said knowing that’s the only way he can convince her. “You’ve been an incredible part of my life, and I’ll always cherish the memories we’ve made together. I hope you find the happiness you deserve, I hope, in time, you can forgive me. But this ends here.”

“Dean you can’t do this to me.” She sobbed holding onto his shirt. “Please.” Her body shook as she cried. He couldn’t bear seeing her like that so he did what he thought was best. He left. He left her sobbing in the middle of the park. With a heavy heart and tear filled eyes Dean entered his house. His father was in the living room, his back to Dean.

“Did you do it?” John asked.

“Yeah I broke up with her.” Dean mumbled wanting to get into bed.

“Dean, you had to break her heart not breakup with her.” John said turning to look at his son.

“What is the damn difference?” Dean snapped not caring about pissing off his father. John ignored his tone knowing he’s hurting. But it’s for the best.

“What if she follows you or tries to persuade you to stay? You need to break her heart, so painful that she can’t help but hate you, ensuring she moves on and never thinks of you again.” Dean went to his room without a word.

Y/n went back to her house, spending the entire night crying and wondering what went wrong. She couldn’t believe it was Dean’s decision alone; she suspected his dad had pressured him. She decided she’d talk to him once more at school before she made any final decisions.

Her heart dropped the minute she entered the hallway, she watched Dean pressing a blonde against the lockers, his lips firmly placed against hers. He looked at her for a split second and he could the see the hurt in her eyes but he continued kissing the girl pressed against him.

I’m sorry, baby. He closed his eyes trying to erase her hurt filled eyes from his memory.

Seeing him with someone else, she felt a deep, piercing sting of betrayal. Her heart sank, a mix of shock and hurt washing over her. It wasn’t just the sight of him with someone else; it was the realization that what they had meant so much less to him than it did to her.

I hate you Dean. She turned away and made her way to class.

Part 2???

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

[lesbianrobin]

ok so here is my pitch for my dream buddie catalyst:

eddie and maddie are trapped in some sort of likely-fatal time sensitive situation together (drowning related probably because it's Them) (have they overused it yes is it still thematically appropriate YES) where one person could potentially sacrifice themselves for the other to survive. i want eddie and maddie using their combined experience and ingenuity to survive together and discussing who should be prioritized which means they talk about parenthood and how they both feel they've failed their children by "running," how their lives have been so defined by trauma and they don't want to scar their children any further by leaving them again. of course they're doing everything they can to get out together, but as the situation deteriorates throughout the episode(s) (c'mon something like this could be at LEAST a two-parter) they can't help returning periodically to the world's most morbid debate.

i want buck and chim on the outside both going out of their goddamn minds. they know that eddie and maddie are stuck (wherever), know that they're probably alive, but aren't sure in what condition and if they'll stay that way. rescue operations begin as everybody walks on eggshells around buck and tries to comfort chim, who wants absolutely none of it. time is running out.

eddie says that he couldn't possibly let maddie sacrifice herself for him and look buck and chim in the eye afterwards. maddie says that she couldn't do that either. she says that at least jee-yun would still have her father, and eddie says that christopher would still have buck. maddie says that of course none of them would just abandon christopher if something were to happen to him but—

and eddie cuts her off and says it's in my will. if i die, christopher will have buck. buck will have christopher.

they just look at each other for a weighted moment. maddie makes a decision. she says ...i meant it, you know. that i couldn't let you die down here (wherever here is i don't KNOW okay i'm not here to think up convoluted emergencies i'm here for drama) and look my baby brother in the eye knowing that i could have changed it. eddie says i know, okay, but it's different, you're his sister, and maddie says, yeah, but you're his... and she pauses. and eddie says what? best friend? partner? that doesn't—

and maddie says you're his. eddie, you're his.

and eddie... i want to see something slot into place. i want to watch him understand as maddie spills everything she's been suspecting since the day that buck came out to her and maybe since before she and eddie even met. maddie says you know, when i first came to california, you were all he talked about? you're still all he talks about. you and christopher. you're his. i couldn't... eddie, you're out of your mind if you really don't think that losing you would break him just as much as losing me. he would forgive us both, because he's buck, but i couldn't... i'm no saint, eddie, i want to survive. i don't want my daughter to grow up without me. but i can't do that to him. i don't know if he'd survive it. even if he did, the guilt would eat me alive.

meanwhile. buck is barely holding on to his sanity as rescue efforts are underway and time is running out. chimney is keeping it together as best he can but there isn't much that he and buck can do. he can't let himself fall apart because buck is already a stiff breeze away from clawing his own skin off and somebody has to keep their cool. something goes wrong—suddenly, their short amount of time has gotten shorter, and they may only have enough of a window to get one out before it's too late for the other. buck, who has been ranting and arguing and screaming this whole time... is silent. he is silent, and he stares straight ahead at nothing in particular, and we know that no matter which way the scales tip, his soul will be destroyed all the same.

eddie regards maddie for a moment. grief, heartbreak, anger, all flicker over him, but what settles is determination. he says that neither of them are going to leave again. that they'll survive together, or not at all, or leave it to the universe to decide.

of course they make it out. by the skin of their teeth, they make it out, working together, clawing their way back to life and love and possibility. maddie makes it out first, and eddie sees buck as she falls into chim's waiting arms. he watches as buck sees his sister, and reaches out to take her hand with trembling fingers and white knuckles, but there is no relief, no happiness in his red-rimmed eyes. just a deep, unspeakable grief, until his eyes slide past maddie and meet eddie's.

finally: relief. and then he is in buck's arms, a perfect parallel to chim and maddie, and we see eddie's face over buck's shoulder, and we know. he is in love, and buck is in love, and eddie knows, and he sinks into his partner's embrace with joy and acceptance.

after that, who knows? maybe a grand confession. a moment of quiet understanding. a passionate post-rescue kiss. a chaste, tender kiss in some kitchen or other. maybe eddie panics later, or maybe he's found peace for once. maybe buck has realized something and he makes the first move. maybe it happens immediately. maybe it takes a while, takes discussions about how it'll affect work and christopher and whether it's worth risking all that they have for all that they want.

and maybe they'll ask whether it's even a risk at all.

[wyllaztopia]

2025 is coming so i let my friend @kayseeye [new agdt mod and assistant!!] clear agdt's askbox

as devastating as it was to see a bunch of creative remarks and asks go down the drain - let's be real, i won't have time to answer them with how linear the story is becoming for ease of access [goodbye 500 asks... though kacey took screenshots of drawings you guys sent in our inbox!!!]

hooowever, there's also another key reason we had to clear the inbox

[^ satire btw]

very long and convoluted psa/ramble about this matter ahead! but also slightly important and i encourage you to read it if you think about using agdt's inbox as a way to vent or share things about your irl troubles

some people treat the blog's inbox as a venting area

it doesn't really make me uncomfortable, it's just something i prefer not seeing. i don't like sharing or being shared personal information especially from an anon or a stranger

this doesn't go for just agdt - it goes for all blogs you interact with: please don't make yourself vulnerable to a stranger on the internet. you are putting yourself in a dangerous spot.

if you need escapism or help, turn to a professional or someone close - going to a stranger can go horribly wrong in two ways: you make them uncomfortable and subject them to a responsibility they never signed up for, or you let someone use your vulnerabilities and personal information against you.

i can probably count like 100 or so asks of people sharing something overly personal and asking for comfort. i don't hate it, i'm not mad, i'm just worried and i hope the people who send them become aware that they should not send those asks knowing that if they're answered, they could be answered publicly with everyone and their mama being able to see that vulnerable moment in that ask.

"just ignore them, wyll! besides, you didn't have any rules abt yo blog anyway, yo!"

nah, i'd win

can't exactly ignore them when it's been almost a year of young impressionable users over sharing to a stranger who answers asks publicly [along with the fact that i hardly see people talk about this matter when it comes to rp/ask blogs.] also so they don't do this to another askblog that has another impressionable youngin running it and publicizes asks that contain personal life info.

we don't add rules to asks on agdt because we can pick and choose which ones we answer. a set of rules isn't going to stop an asshole from breaking them so i'm not wasting my time trying to enforce one. and that's not what i'm trying to do in this post either. i'm putting this out there because i don't want people making the irrational decision of making their life and weakest moments accessible to people who want to use it against them.

i'm not trying to make a big deal out of this either. i can just skip or delete asks that i know i shouldn't answer or won't be able to. but that's my side of responsibility as someone with a platform. i want to make it clear that the audience that decides to interact with these kinds of blogs should be aware that just because you're behind a screen and concealed by an internet persona, that doesn't mean you're any safer from other people using your vulnerabilities against you.