#realizing they're still living their lives

[blenderbender1811]

I think both points can be true to an extent.

While it's true that they're not exactly alike the way they were (and a lot of the equivalent spaces are corporate owned now), it is true that class is a big barrier for the sort of fancy events that people want to 'bring back' without realizing they still exist. I think the latter two examples - that of galas and people living in castles - are more illustrative of that point. Nobody wants to think of not fitting in with those events, but they would be and are.

I also agree with the point here that wanting the luxuries exclusively for the rich to be more accessible and the ability to enjoy fancy things SHOULDN'T be exclusive and those kinds of spaces and events are worth working towards.

So, you've probably all seen this post going around, about how The Chuds Want Gentleman's Clubs (but can't afford to go to the things called "gentlemen's clubs" today, so wouldn't have been able to in the past either). And I hate to say it, but that post isn't accurate.

The things we call "gentlemen's clubs" today and the things that were called "gentleman's clubs" in the past are not the same thing; the one is descended from the other, but they used to be a lot more common and served a purpose that they don't really serve anymore.

The modern equivalent of the historical gentleman's club isn't the thing currently called a gentleman's club; it's the premium airport lounge. And by losing the concept for all but the turbo-rich, I think we genuinely have lost something! Let me explain.

(NOTA BENE: This is mostly about England and from about 1880-1930, and most of my experience with this is from fiction written in that era. I know enough to know what I don't know, but I also know menswear guy is wrong about this.)

So- gentlemen's clubs started in *wiggles hands* the late 1700s, and mostly served a particular purpose: they were places you could stay in a city if you mostly lived in the country, instead of staying in lodgings or owning your own place. Finding a place to stay in London was kind of a misery at the best of times, and owning your own house in Town wasn't practical for a lot of people, even rich people. If you were, say, a young man, just starting out in life, and you hadn't inherited your father's wealth but also weren't set up to live on your own? Having a place you were guaranteed to be able to stay was a fucking godsend. And as time went on, even people who lived in London most of the time started joining clubs, because they served another important purpose- they were a place you could go if you didn't particularly want to be at home, for whatever reason.

The way that historical gentlemen's clubs worked is, you got recommended to the club by a friend who was a member, you paid dues to the club, and in exchange, you'd get to use the club's facilities. * Most gentlemen's clubs had, at minimum, a dining room (with waitstaff, natch), a library, a couple of nice places to sit and hang out, a game room, and a bar. Many of them also had rooms you could sleep in overnight, fitness equipment, or stuff related to the club members' interests. Most of them had a room or two where you could invite friends who weren't part of your club and spend time with them. In the era where phones were a thing, a lot of them had a phone. You could write letters there and get your mail sent there.

Here's the thing: in the period I know best, gentlemen's clubs weren't just for the turbo-rich. They were the province of rich guys, yes- you had to be a 'gentleman' and know the right people to get in. But men who were doctor/lawyer/software-developer rich were most likely members of a gentlemen's club. Anyone who was rich enough to travel regularly was part of at least one club, because having somewhere to crash when you were going between (say) London and Delhi and back again was worth the cost.

Most gentlemen's clubs were owned by their members- not an outside corporate body. The club leaders were elected, usually by a small committee.

And a lot of gentlemen's clubs founded around specific interests, as time went on. There were gentlemen's clubs specifically for Guys Who Were Really Into Radio. There were clubs specifically for men who spent a lot of time traveling. There were clubs specifically for dudes who wanted to talk your ear off and clubs for old dudes who mostly wanted to nod off in their chairs and talk about The War and clubs for dudes who did not want to be percieved at all.

There were clubs for men who were really into science, or the arts, or sports. And one perk of being in a club like this is that you had access to equipment that you might not have been able to buy on your own. You didn't have to shell out for an entire library of scientific and medical books; you could go to your club and read in the library there. If your club had, say, an art studio, you could go paint at your club and not have to keep a studio space of your own.

There were gentlemen's clubs specifically oriented around specific political or social views. There were socialist clubs. (And a lot of them admitted women, which was !!!SCANDALOUS!!!) Like, they were still the province of goddamn rich people, there were a lot of trust fund baby socialists and not many working people, but there were socialist social clubs.

...I don't want to pretend that gentlemen's clubs were some kind of idyllic haven. 99% of these clubs were For Men, and For The Right Sort Of Men at that; if you didn't have a friend who was a member, or you weren't "respectable" enough, you didn't get to join. There's a reason that most of these clubs are gone now. Part of the point was excluding the Wrong Sort of People, and that became gauche over time. After a certain point, being part of a club became a thing for stodgy, out-of-touch rich men- not just "men who happened to have enough money to be part of a club"- and so most of the men who could join one didn't, and people stopped forming new ones. Only Old Money assholes (who will continue to do what they've always done, current trends be damned) keep the concept alive.

But like... the thing that replaced gentlemen's clubs for 99% of the people who would have had one a hundred years ago... is the premium airport lounge, and the premium gym membership, and the ~coworking hub~.** Anyone can join, yeah, as long as they're able to pay. You pay a corporation a chunk of money for similar amenities, and the amenities are ... fine? But because the entity is driven by profit, most of the money you're paying them goes into running their other business concerns and paying their CEOs a fat paycheck.

I think... as exclusionary as gentlemen's clubs were back in the day, there's the seed of a good idea there. I think the guys who wish they were still an attainable thing for a middle-class person have a point, and I wish we could inject some fucking nuance into this conversation.

A community-owned space that gives you a place to crash when you need one, has community-owned resources for its members, and isn't beholden to a corporation is a good thing. Third spaces that don't have to turn a profit are a damn good thing.

At the end of the day, my politics are 'everyone should get to have the kind of luxuries that were historically reserved for the rich'. Everyone should get to have the best life has to offer- leisure, beauty, good craftsmanship, and community. And so, you know, if this kind of community space sounds like a thing you'd like to have, maybe it's something you could work towards creating, too.

*TBF, this is still how they work today! But the networks are much smaller.

**I do find it very funny that apparently one of the biggest problems facing the few remaining Actual Gentlemen's Clubs (TM) is that people are trying to use their space to telework-- a lot of them are trying to ban laptops and business talk to "keep the club's character" (read: "we're too rich to have to work here").

[bunny-jpeg]

the bow pose

carlos sainz jr

request: vday prompts - 63 and carlos please <3 63. “wow, i didn’t realize you were that...flexible.”

tags: smut/pwp, yoga positions, flexibility, floor/living room sex, modified doggy style

eros (the valentine's day collection)

carlos knew you were a woman of many talents. from your ability to measure the liquor in a cocktail perfectly on the first try, or how you could tell what hour it was from the position of the sun. it was small things that made carlos very impressed with you.

while you'd fluff it off, and tell him it was little things you picked up, carlos was always eager to give you praise. the small things, the large things, everything! but what made his jaw drop was one sunny winter afternoon when he came back from williams testing. and found you in a proper yoga pose.

but not just any pose, the bow pose.

carlos' eyes went wide at the sight of you. you were in a sports bra and atheltic leggings and the way your body bent made him almost drop his williams' branded water bottle.

you noticed him and then slowly dropped the pose. your muscles relaxed and that only enticed him more. especially when you let out a small moan in relaxation. you extended your arms out and propped your top half up as you looked at him with a smile, "hey, honey! how was testing?"

he nodded and put his belongings on the couch, "always perfect. they're great." he tried to brush off how you looked, the cobra position didn't help either. it would still give him easy access to your sweet body. he gave you the once over before he said, “wow, i didn’t realize you were that...flexible."

you chuckled, "i'm a bit rusty. i did it all the time as a teen to keep my body moving. all those joint problems i had in my teens." you exhaled as you stretched your back a little more, "got lazy with it post graduation, but now that you're getting back to proper shape for the season. i should to the same thing."

carlos approached, socked feet padded on the hardwood floor of the rental home you were sharing for the next little while. when he got close enough,he crouched down and spread his hand across your exposed back. he licked his lips, "you look good. hot in all these positions."

you giggled and dropped your top half onto the floor and bent your knees to raise them a little to stretch out your lower back. carlos' gaze grew hungrier. your eyes closed for a moment, but quickly re-opened when you felt him behind you and his hands on your hips.

he raised your hips a little and pressed your soft behind against his clothed cock. he made a face like he was gauging his ability to fuck you in this position, "next time." he said, "i'm really going to see how flexible you are." then pressed into you which caused your back to arch.

you let out a small moan and carlos eyed your behind for a moment before he squeezed the flesh with his hand. the action made your stomach clench and you felt an uptick of excitement in you.

"do you want me?"

"yes."

"good." he said lowly before he took your leggings off of you, he pulled them all the way off before he tossed them towards the couch. he then rubbed up against you. the rough denim of his jeans up against your ass made you moan. he added, "you sound beautiful, i bet you were loud when you got into those positions. i bet you thought about me." his tone was heated and it left you with a lingering want between your legs.

"carlos, fuck." you arched your back a little and felt the flutter of want in your core. thankfully the yoga mat was under your body or else you'd be a lot more achy come morning. you looked over your shoulder at him and saw how hungry he had become for you.

you never knew that carlos liked this. you helped him get your panties off and with your lower half exposed, he pressed your top half further into the mat.

he said, "if it starts to hurt, tell me." and you nodded. he then gripped the back of your neck a little tighter and said, "use your words."

you exhaled and swore, it was arousing. you then said, "yes, of course, carlos." and he let go of you to get himself out of his jeans. he teased your slit soon after, he rubbed the achy tip against your sweet entrance.

"feels amazing as always." he said, "there is something about you i cannot deny. from the moment i met you, i knew i had to have you. all over you. and to see you bend the way you do only turns me on more." his breathing grew heavier as he sank his cock into you. you easily split open for him, letting himself get snug between your thighs.

pussy that felt like heaven, he could taste the pleasure in his throat now with both hands on your hips. he loomed over you as he started to move his hips, slow yet forceful thrusts against you.

"perfect." he purred.

you could feel the climb of pleasure in your core as he felt like he shook your foundation. there was nothing quite like him. never have been anyone like him. and there never will be anyone like him. the feeling was euphoric in a certain way that had you moaning loudly.

sex with carlos was almost an exciting affair, the type that pulled you in each time you did it. you clung onto the edge of the yoga mat and let carlos arch your back a little more to give you both the pleasure you desired. it was hot, it was an achy heat that left your mouth spilling words of heated lust.

"please, carlos. fuck, i didn't know it would make you feel this good. i should've done yoga sooner." you chuckled as your grip on the mat tightened the more than carlos moved himself against you. your breaths were heavy pants and you loved the feeling of him on top of you.

you hated to admit it, even though you couldn't look at him in the position. you loved doggy style quite a bit, it just hit all the right places and made your head spin. carlos was good at that, making your soul thrum with sexual desire and wanted.

they didn't associate him with a hot pepper for nothing. often left your cheeks hotter than the chili itself. you dropped your head to the met and let its softness keep your cheek comfortable while carlos continued to thrust into you, marginally picking up speed.

"always sound so sweet for me."

you couldn't help it. you felt like you were adding to the arousal. but in reality it felt like your brain didn't know what to do with all the added pleasure other than to let carlos know how good he made you feel. his special talent, making his girlfriend squirm and moan.

but you knew if it all became too much, to let him know. there was no issue if he just flooded your head a little too much with the rush of pleasure. he kissed your back, the spots were the bra straps didn't cover. he could almost feel your heartbeat in your back. he held on a little tighter and you moaned louder.

"and you feel amazing too, my love." his voice hot in your ear, "how you move, how you bend. all positions for me to fuck you in." he chuckled lowly, "you'd let me stretch, bend and fuck you to my liking. isn't that right?"

you swore under your breath. pleasure felt heavy in your gut as he continued to fuck you, his pace much faster and left your head feeling in a stir as his cock bullied himself up inside of your beautiful pussy. who the hell allowed him to fuck you so good, to know exactly how to make you feel good.

the pleasure only grew in your as you pressed your cheek further against the mat and let him have full control of your slick pussy. the sounds of fucking filled the living room. you two were going at it, the pace quickened as you both felt closer to your climaxes. it was intense, the fire swarmed through your belly as it throbbed in your head.

"please carlos." you panted as you felt the tension in you grow. the sexual desire for him mounted and it wasn't much longer before you felt it all splash you. and you came around his cock.

"that's it, that's it." he cooed as he continued to fuck you. his pace left you breathless as the shudder of pleasure coursed through you. it felt amazing, you felt amazing. a piece of heaven all blissed out under him.

he kissed your back once more and felt the rapid thumping in his chest as he got close. he gave you a searing kiss at the back of your neck as he slammed his entire length into you and finished inside of you.

"fuck."

"i love you." he said hotly as he stopped his movements and let himself hold you by the waist for a few more moments. he pressed more kissed against your back and whispered sweet praises of his love to you. it sounded beautiful until he managed to pull his head away and loudly exhale.

it took a lot out of him, especially after the day of racing. he pulled away and rested himself on his heels while your hips dropped to the mat. you got onto your back and looked around to find your bottoms. but you had a feeling they wouldn't be found until morning.

carlos said as he pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and chuckled, "next time, i'm really going to see how flexible you are." he admired you before you pulled him in by the shirt. your lips crashed into one another and he groaned into the kiss

when you pulled away, you asked him, "why don't we find out right now?" <3

[survivorsofsynecdoche]

Before I got professional help from a DID specialist, I was a very violently anti-endo sysmed. Ironically, pursuing help and taking my medication regularly helped me open up to the idea of non-traumagenic systems.

Before I had access to professional help, I was angry at the world. I was angry at the doctors for not accepting my insurance even though I so desperately needed their help, and I was angry at the endogenics for seemingly getting the "easy" and "fun" parts of my disorder. It was insecurity. I blamed them for how people outside of the community treated me, I blamed them for making us look bad.

I held out hope for the definitive "medical truth" to validate me, I wanted someone to look at me and say:

"I know EXACTLY what is wrong with you, and I can fix you."

But sadly that was just a dream. After cycling through a handful of specialists and settling on my current one, I realized they're learning from me as much as I'm learning from them. Every single specialist had a wildly different definition of what DID looks like, and even is. What it's caused by, and what it's not. Some specialists were open to the idea of endogenic systems existing, some were not.

DID/OSDD medical information is a footnote in a medical textbook. So many of the terms that diagnosed traumagenics use are not decided upon by a medical consensus. Even the specialists are extrapolating heavily based on the very limited information there is about this disorder.

That's when it hit me.

The doctors don't know shit. The community dosent know shit. So damn it all to hell I don't care anymore.

Traumagenic and Endogenic systems are in the same boat. We are all still discovering what it even means to be plural. There's no set definition, even within the sysmed community. So why are we so desperately trying to invalidate each other's experiences just to try to convince others, and ourselves, that our lived experiences are real?

[steddieas-shegoes]

guilt fades, scars remain

written as part of @st-loveconfessions february kindness event for today: write a fic based on art! the moment I saw this absolutely stunning art by @stervrucht, I knew I had to get some words out. @runninriot also wrote something inspired by this art and it's just as stunning as the art itself, you can find that here!

rated m | 1031 words | cw: blood and injury | tags: eddie munson lives, steve rescues eddie, eddie has a crush on steve, pre-relationship, open ending but assume they're getting together

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The tears drip. The rain hits the roof. The sweat builds along his hairline.

Eddie’s alone. He’s scared. He’s sick of feeling pain everywhere.

“Eddie?”

The voice is back. He should be happy. Hearing Steve’s voice is a relief compared to what he’s been feeling for so long. He’s not even sure how long he’s been stuck here. Hours, days, weeks?

Years?

“Eddie.”

The voice is clear, but it’s always clear. Sometimes it’s far, sometimes it’s close. It sounds worried, but talking back to it doesn’t help.

He’s sure of only one thing: Steve Harrington’s voice is a balm on his nerves and patience alike. If he can’t have the real Steve saving him, he’s glad he at least has his voice in his ears.

Cool hands are covering his naked chest. It feels so nice, like an ice pack on an injury.

He supposes he does have an injury. Probably a lot if the shooting pains across his side and legs are anything to go off of.

“Eddie, hey.”

Eddie blinks. His vision focuses.

“There you go. Keep your eyes open. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry we kept you waiting so long.”

Eddie’s got tunnel vision, which is weird for a hallucination. Or maybe it’s not. He’s only done shrooms once and he barely even hallucinated before he passed out.

Eddie reaches one hand up to try to feel if Steve is real. He touches bare skin and he laughs.

“‘S fake.”

Steve’s got a lot of hair on his chest, he remembers from when he jumped into the lake. He remembers thinking how nice it must be to fall asleep on his chest, run his fingers through the soft hair there.

“What’s fake?” Steve asks.

An interactive hallucination is very strange, but it’s a nice distraction from the pain. It fades in and out like the intro and outro to songs. He’s gotta figure out how to put this into music.

“You,” he answers. There’s still no other voices and there’s no way Steve would rescue him alone. No one would let him come down here alone. “Me.”

“We’re not fake, Eddie. I knew we should’ve come back sooner. You’re fuckin’ delirious,” Steve sounds panicked now, and Eddie doesn’t want that. Hallucination Steve should be relaxed.

“Calm. Hurts, but calm.”

He’s being lifted up slowly and he’s sitting for the first time since the bats started trying to eat him. Feels a little weird, something internally screams, and then he realizes he’s actually screaming externally.

Steve’s trying to keep him calm and quiet, shushing him as he pulls him to his shoulder, hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s nice, smelling something that’s not the stench of the Upside Down or his own blood. Feeling something human where all he’s known is dirt and ash.

“It’s gonna hurt for a few minutes, but it’ll be worth it,” Steve’s saying in his ear.

Eddie raises an arm. It hurts. It’s not as bad as when he sat up, but it’s more pain than he should be feeling.

He must make a noise because Steve’s burying his nose into Eddie’s hair and it feels intimate in a way that doesn’t belong here. This place is broken, Eddie is broken, and Steve is stable.

“I’m gonna lift you up. Is anything broken?” Steve whispers against the side of his head.

Eddie hopes he remembers all of this. He hopes when he wakes up— if he wakes up— the first thought he has is about Steve touching him like this, making him feel alive and precious, worthy.

He must’ve answered Steve because he feels the ground fall out from under him and then searing pain in his side. Steve’s carrying him and he’s going to black out from the pain.

“Just a few minutes. Just hang on a few minutes. For me, Eddie,.”

Eddie can do anything in his dreams, so he hangs on for a while and then everything goes dark.

++++

“Eddie.”

The voice again.

It’s not clear this time, but he knows it’s Steve.

“Eddie, wake up.”

He blinks his eyes open and immediately closes them again, whining at the obnoxious bright light right in his eyes. If heaven is this bright, he’s not interested.

“Sorry. Let me turn those off.”

Steve’s voice is clearer now, sinking into his brain as the memories start to float back to him. Steve saved him. Steve showed up in the Upside Down shirtless and-

“Where was your shirt?” Eddie asks, voice raspy and trembling. He sounds as weak as he feels.

“My…shirt?” Steve asks.

“Y’were naked,” Eddie continues. “Nipples everywhere.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh and Eddie is going to combust. Making Steve laugh might be the best thing he’s ever done in his life…or death, if he’s dead.

“I was using it to stop the blood on your leg,” Steve explains. “It was still bleeding.”

He sounds…haunted.

“Did I die?”

Eddie focuses on Steve, the way he holds himself as if he’s in trouble, the way he won’t look directly at Eddie’s face. He’s guilty, but Eddie can’t imagine why.

“No. I don’t know how, but no.”

“You saved me.”

“I was almost too late.”

Eddie hums in protest. He’s too tired to argue, but he knows he’s right. Steve saved him. It doesn’t matter how long it took, or how many shirts were ruined in the process. He’s alive.

“C’mere,” Eddie whispers.

Steve steps closer. Eddie manages to grip his shirt, not tight, but enough for Steve to look down and then back up, finally settling on his face.

“Y’did good,” Eddie says. He closes his eyes hoping that’ll conserve energy to say what he needs to. “Thank you.”

“Eddie-“

“Sit. Sleep.”

He’s not sure if Steve listens because he’s already drifting back out of consciousness, but he can feel the weight of Steve’s hand in his and he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna let go.

When he wakes up, he still feels Steve’s hand in his.

His eyes flutter open to see Steve asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Shirt on, unfortunately.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Tiny Bit of Angst I idiot4idiot I First Kiss I 1.8k I SFW

“We're out of Mountain Dew,” Eddie yells into the living room.

“There's another case in the garage, I think,” Steve yells back, “I'll go look.”

Eddie slams the fridge shut. “No, don't get up, I've got it.”

“Quit being sweet on me!”

He's teasing, it's nothing, but Eddie's pulse jumps anyway, horrified that he's being obvious again. “I'm not sweet on you! I'm repaying my life debt!” Not the whole truth but not a lie either. Satisfied that he's dodged a bullet, he jogs to the garage, grabs the 12 pack from the moderately-wealthy-person's-modest-second-garage-fridge and drops it off at the ultra-wealthy-person's-expensive-and-shiny-main-fridge. He brings two back to the living room, gets ready to leap over the back of the couch so they can resume the movie, before he realizes Steve is MIA.

“You taking a shit?” He yells out.

Steve doesn't answer, which he supposes is answer enough. He resumes his roll over the back of the sofa, cracks his can open, chugs, and waits for Steve to return.

The TV is still paused on Kurt Russell’s rugged face. What a man. Eddie idly wonders what Steve would look like with a beard. He could sketch it out and then hide the evidence in one of his old D&D manuals.

Speaking of Steve…

“Yo, did you fall in?!” No response. “Hello?”

Okay, now it's getting weird. A chill runs down his neck.

Steve is fine. There's nothing to worry about. It's just weird he hasn't responded yet; the downstairs bathroom is ten feet away.

He jumps up, just to check for himself that Steve is okay. Which he is, because everything is fine.

The bathroom is empty…

“Okay, this isn't funny, asshole! You know I have trauma!”

No response to that either. What the fuck.

“Steve,” he yells up the stairs next, “seriously, dude, where are you?”

He takes them two at a time, because there's no good reason for Steve not to be yelling back. He pictures him being chewed on by a last remaining Demogorgon and preemptively starts planning his own sacrifice. Because if Steve is dead on Eddie's watch, killed while Eddie had his head in the garage fridge, he doesn't deserve that second chance at life.

“Hello?” He croaks down the hall. All of the doors are ajar, but that's not unusual. They're forever in and out of the various rooms; Steve into Eddie's, Eddie into Steve's, the both of them into his parents' empty room because they have the better bathroom.

Still nothing from Steve. It's getting ridiculous. He's not being eaten by a monster either, too quiet for that, so what the hell is going on?

He marches into Steve's room and finds it empty too. He almost continues on to Steve's en suite but he stops, notices the comforter on Steve's bed is missing, which is weird. A clue, maybe? He glances around, a look underneath, a peek around the side of the bed, but it's nowhere to be found.

He goes to call Steve's name again but then he hears something, like a sniffle.

The closet doors are shut but between them is a chunk of Steve's blanket, a tiny corner sticking out at the bottom.

Eddie tiptoes over and listens.

Yup. Another sniffle.

He parts the doors gently.

Steve throws the blanket over his head before Eddie can see him, only getting a quick peek at his knees before they disappear.

“Uhh, wha’cha doin’ in the closet, Stevie?”

He thought he'd said it soft enough to not scare him but when he immediately bursts into loudy, snotty tears underneath his blanket, Eddie can only assume he's fucked up anyway.

He crouches down. “Hey, I'm sorry, don't freak out, it's just me. C'mon, man, talk to me, what's going on? You're scaring me.”

“I'm fine,” Steve croaks.

“Yeah…clearly.”

The lump that is Steve groans and then falls over, landing on a pile of old shoes, which he doesn't seem to notice or care.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Okay. Now that Eddie knows Steve is upset about something, he thinks back to what they were doing before they paused the movie. Which was nothing.

“You said you'd seen The Thing before.”

Steve sniffs. “I have. At Mike's fifteenth birthday.”

“Okay. So why are you freaking out about it now?”

“Why the fuck- Uhh. Yeah. The movie. Scared me real bad.”

Eddie frowns at The Lump. So it's not the movie. Something happened when Eddie got up. Think, think, think!

“The life debt thing?”

Steve doesn't respond. He does curl into a smaller ball, which seems like an answer in itself. What it means, he has no idea. Why would that leave Steve a sobbing mess? It's not like he can undo Steve saving his life! Of course he owes Steve everything!

“Please talk to me,” he begs softly. “I'm not good at this. I'm not Robin.”

He gets a scoff. “Robin is also not good at this.”

True. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean she comes equipped to handle emotional outbursts. She's more of a ‘pat, pat, there, there' kinda gal.

“Would you tell her what was wrong?”

“Yes,” Steve admits after a short pause.

“Would you like me to go get her?”

“No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “But you don't have to stay in here with me. You can finish the movie if you want. I'll be okay.”

“Steve,” he pats what he hopes is Steve's shoulder, “I might not be good at this emotional vulnerability shit but even I know you don't leave your friends crying on the floor of their closet.”

Since he's touching Steve, he can feel the short, hitching breaths he's taking, trying so hard not to be heard.

“I'm fine. I'll be fine,” Steve tries to convince him, “I just need a bit to get over myself. Like a week or…six.”

“Over what?”

He sniffles some more. “Nothing.”

“I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong, dude.” To prove his point he shuffles fully into the closet and pulls the doors shut behind him. “There. Our closet breakdown.”

Steve groans, tries giving Eddie a little kick but his feet are trapped inside the comforter, so it feels more like a nudge.

“I'll be over here by this pile of old basketball jerseys when you feel like talking. Number twenty-one? Is that lucky?”

“This is so stupid,” Steve mumbles.

“Hey, you're in charge of this rodeo, just tell me what's wrong and we can mosey on out of here.”

“You sound like Wayne when you say shit like that.”

“Well, he did half raise me. Tell me what's wrong.”

“No.”

“So you don't trust me?” He says just to be an asshole, to get some kind of reaction. “We're not that good of friends I guess.”

That gets him a reaction alright, just not the one he wants. Instead of getting pissed, Steve somehow curls even tighter, near silent sobs emanating from The Lump.

All of this had had a sort of surreal, humorous quality before, finding Steve having a nervous breakdown on the floor like a toddler told to go to bed, but it's getting less cute now.

Eddie gets up and lays the opposite way, head down near Steve's. He wants to bundle Steve up and rock him like a baby, but it doesn't seem like Steve wants that. “If I'm really hurting you…if this is my fault and you want me to go, I'll go, but I don't want to. I want to fix this. What do you want me to do?”

He's quiet. Not actively crying at least. After a long stretch, he mumbles, “Is that what you've been doing this whole time? Trying to fix things? Doing what you think I want because you think you owe me?”

Okay, now they're getting somewhere.

“I do owe you, Stevie, but that's not why… That's not why.”

“Then why?”

He swallows. “Because you deserve more than you get.” There. That's fine. That's platonic and still vulnerable and absolutely true.

“And that's it?”

What the fuck does he say to that? ‘No, actually, I want to treat you like the god damned royalty that you are, not in the fake high school sense, but in the way that knights willingly followed Kings onto the battlefield?’

“What do you mean?” He asks instead, like the coward he is.

“I mean… You close all the curtains in the house when you notice I've got a migraine. You learned to play my favorite songs even though you think they're mediocre. You corral the kids when they get out of hand and start being mean to me. You invite me to family dinner at Wayne and Gail’s. We live together and make breakfast together and spend all of our time together and I guess that's just because we're friends. That's what friends do. We're just friends.” He's worked himself into a fit again.

Eddie can do nothing but stare at the blanket lump and try not to panic. Either Steve has been onto him for months and has finally had enough or…

“Stevie? Why are you crying in the closet?”

“Don't make me say it.”

He chokes on his own sob, months of being good, keeping it tucked away and out of sight, welling up in his chest and in his eyes.

He finds the end of the blanket and pulls until he can crawl underneath too, finding Steve with his head turned away, like he's still trying to hide. Eddie slides both hands onto the sides of his face and turns him away from the floor. He blinks at Eddie, looking every bit like a tragic Prince in a fairytale. Or a baby cow.

“Please,” he begs, voice breaking, “tell me why you're sad.”

Steve studies Eddie, eye roaming over the tear tracks Eddie can't stop, over his trembling lip, the blush that must be painting his cheeks. He's going out on a real limb here, betting it all, but Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long.

“I thought you were sweet on me.”

Eddie coughs out a relieved a laugh. “I am, baby. I'm so sweet on you.”

Steve's face could outshine the fourth of July. “Yeah?”

“Are you kidding? You think I'd crawl back into the closet for just anyone?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, head falling to land on Eddie's shoulder.

“Hey,” he nudges softly, “whaddya say we come out of the closet together?”

“Why do I like you so much?”

“Aww, you sweet on me, Stevie?”

Instead of answering, he throws back the blanket, bringing fresh air, and then Steve basically knocks Eddie into the door, spilling them out onto the floor of his room. He crawls on top of Eddie, pinning him down with all of his jock glory.

"I am so sweet on you."

And then he kisses Eddie. Kisses him like he's been thinking about it just as long as Eddie has, which is a real bitch of a realization. Months they could've been doing this.

He's got two handfuls of jean covered ass when Steve pulls back far enough to whisper, “We have to make up something else to tell Robin. She can't know it happened like this, I'll never live it down.”

"Let me touch your dick and I'll tell her whatever you want. You fought off a bear in the backyard and I was overcome with desire."

"Deal."

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Request: Hello!! Good morning/afternoon/evening/night. I would like to request platonicDad! Lilia vanrouge headcanons please! If you do do this tysm!!

Hi! Good morning, afternoon, evening, or night to you too! Thank you so much for the request! I wasn't sure if you wanted biological daughter or adopted daughter so I'm doing adopted. If that's not what you wanted just tell me and I'll do a bio one too!

!Platonic!Dad! Lilia Vanrouge x Adopted Daughter

Lilia found you on his doorstep mere days after he took Silver in. He was still a bit iffy on the whole 'raising a human child' thing so at first he had planned to take you off to a human village and leave you on someone else's doorstep there. However, when he found you it was night and he thought it would be best to wait until morning to make the trek so that night you stayed in the Vanrouge cottage.

You were laid on a blanket on the ground next to Silver (he didn't have a crib yet) to sleep. The blanket rested a few feet away from Lilia's bed so he could keep an eye on Silver, and now you as well, without accidentally stepping on the two of you when he gets up at night.

Contrasting to how he found you on his doorstep, wailing and crying, you stayed perfectly silent the whole night. It took him a moment after he woke up to realize the lack of crying, but when he did he freaked out thinking you'd somehow made it out of the room and possibly even out of the house. He immediately sprung out of bed: whipping his head around frantically.

That's when he saw it. On the blanket, huddled together, were you and Silver. He stumbled over to the two of you, the adrenaline quickly fading from his body, before collapsing onto his knees. Breathing a sigh of relief he reached out to brush a small, wispy strand of hair out of your face. He knew he had no right to freak out since he was planning to hand you off later that day, but he couldn't help it. It was the 'new father' instincts (or so he told himself).

Right as Lilia was about to get up to prepare a basket and note he was stopped by a tiny little hand wrapping around one of his fingers. He looked down to see you smiling sleepily and gripping his index finger with one of your chubby baby hands.

He didn't end up handing you off that day.

When Lilia rarely decides he's going to let someone into his life he loves and cherishes them like they're the very thing that keeps him going and you're no exception.

As Lilia raises you alongside Silver he makes sure you never feel out of place in the home.

That means he makes sure to quadruple his cooking just to make sure everyone has enough to eat and can still have extras :) (How the two of you lived only the sevens know).

If you're like Silver and say you want to become knight, he'll start training you to become one. However, whether you say that or not, you're at least getting self-defense training.

I don't see Lilia being one of those overprotective dads that's bordering on a helicopter parent.

He'd be really supportive of you no matter if it's coloring quietly in your room or venturing out into the forest to have a wrestling match with your bear pal (he will make sure you have a helmet though (safety first))

When you're old enough to start dating he'll only do a bit of the whole 'intimidating your partner' thing, but only as a joke (tell that to the threatening glint in his eyes hiding under his goofy tone as he tells the person he was kidding).

Anything and everything you make gets hung on the wall and never gets taken down (no matter how much you beg him to take down that cringy old drawing you made).

You'll never have to worry about doing your hair. Lilia says that he learned to tie it up in all those cute styles from when his hair was long, but you know dang well that the great war general Lilia Vanrouge was never french braiding his hair into a heart (and the old books hidden under the bathroom sink, pages tattered and worn from being repeatedly flipped through and studied are pretty telling too).

Even when you were too little to do so well and with a steady hand, Lilia has always let you paint his nails. The look on Baur's face when he first saw Lilia walked into his house with sparkly rainbow nails, the polish appearing to be more on his fingers than anything was priceless. However, any questions he had were answered as the little girl with adorably done hair, a frilly little dress covered in dirt with equally as dirty jeans under it, and a big toothy smile (minus her front teeth) came skipping through the door with muddy Silver.

When the time finally comes that Lilia and Silver head off to Night Raven college along with Malleus and Sebek, Lilia is hesitant at first. He only finally leaves after weeks of convincing him you'll be fine. You'll be attending the school in the castle town and living in a dorm only a few minutes away from where Sebek's parents live.

He makes sure to call you every night to check in, the call often including not-so-surprise guests such as Silver, Sebek, Malleus, and a few times even his friends from his club (though they think you're his niece or cousin or something).

If you come to the cultural festival he makes sure to get you front row seats to his performance and give you a full tour of the campus after the show.

He only introduces you to his friends if you happen across them or directly ask to meet them. He doesn't want to interrupt this rare father daughter time unless you want to. Otherwise, he'll give you his full attention and make sure to remind you how much he loves you and is proud of you.

With Lilia as a father, you'll never have to worry about being unloved or unworthy. No matter your grades, interests, or hobbies, he'll be there supporting you every step of the way. All he asks is that you be true to yourself and always keep your old dad in your heart (He's so dramatic. As if anyone could ever forget or stop loving such a wonderful dad)

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[mcdonaldsnumberone]

DEAR!

when they realize they're falling for you

gender neutral reader

feat. argenti, moze, sunday, jing yuan

content warning(s): nonsexual nudity/bathing (sunday)

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎ ARGENTI

Argenti realizes he’s falling in love with you when he returns from a particularly grueling mission and sees you preparing dinner for him. It’s something so simple and so everyday, yet Argenti has unfortunately gotten used to depriving himself of even the small things sometimes. As a devoted Knight of Beauty, he’s grown accustomed to living in poverty and getting by with very few things in his possession. But yet you insist on fawning over him and tending to him with the attention that he doesn’t think he deserve, and even though he feels unworthy of loving you since he believes his path is meant to be taken alone, there’s still something so comforting about returning to a warm meal and your fussing rather than the empty spaceship he’s grown too used to.

“You really need to start keeping more food around,” you scold Argenti as the knight quietly takes his seat at the table. “There’s only so much I can do with bread, some cheese, and a handful of dried fruit.”

You peer over at Argenti, who offers up an apologetic smile. You wish he wasn’t so handsome and good-hearted at times. Maybe then you could be harsher about his negligence towards his health and feel less guilty about it. Knowing him, he wouldn’t even have bothered cooking and would have just eaten the bread, cheese, and fruit as they were. You sigh and shake your head before taking the pot off of the stove and placing it squarely in front of him.

“You’re lucky that I care so much about you.” You slide some more plates in his direction. One is filled with toasted baguette slices, and the other has some jam you managed to coax from rehydrating the dried fruits. “I figured I could make some fondue with the cheese and decided to make something sweet with the fruit. Go ahead, have a bite. You must be hungry from romping around all day.”

His hands tremble a little as he carefully spreads some molten cheese and sticky jam over the baguette slices, and under your scrutinizing gaze, Argenti takes a tentative bite of the meal you’ve prepared for him. Like you described, it really is nothing special, and it’s as simple of a meal as it can get. But knowing that you labored over it, putting in your time and effort so that he’d have something nice to eat, makes his heart squeeze inside of his chest as if threatening to suffocate him from the inside out. 

It tastes good. Better than anything Argenti’s ever had. The brittle crust of the baguette, the salty tang of the cheese, and the sugary flavor of the fruit jam… It’s the perfect meal to fill his stomach and his soul.

“Do you like it?” You ask him, the snark in your voice melting away to reveal your true, genuine concern.

He looks towards you, eyes softening in a way only love could. “Yes, love. It’s delicious.”

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎ MOZE

Moze realizes he’s falling in love with you when he lets you sneak up on him to surprise him with a hug. Being an assassin means that showing his back is something unthinkable. Even in the wild, animals are evolved not to show their back or their weak spots, lest they end up killed before they can kill. And yet, whenever you’re involved, Moze wonders what about you has him willing to turn the other eye to let you creep up to him. Logically, he knows what he’s doing is dangerous. What if you were to backstab him? What if someone were to take advantage of you to get to him? But above any of those doubts is the clear fact that he trusts you. Moze trusts you. And it’s from there that he can find security in his love for you. 

The streets of the Luofu are loud and filled with sounds that Moze isn’t familiar with. And  yet, in the short time he’s been here, he’s already grown used to it enough to pick out what are everyday noises and what are noises that might indicate danger. It’s his duty to organize and process information like this as quickly as possible—even a few seconds is enough to prove to be the decisive factor between life and death. 

He supposes this second-nature part of him is why he hears you before anything else. He can hear the telltale swish of your clothes against your body and the soft inhales and exhales he’s grown to become so fond of. He has half a mind to tell you to drop the act and quit lurking around him. He knows he can pin you up against whatever wall you’re hiding behind faster than you can realize, but you’re harmless and Moze would feel bad for ruining your fun.

So he decides to play dumb for just a little bit. And you don’t let his expectations down. Only a few moments have passed before he can hear your familiar footsteps running up from behind him, and shortly after, a pair of equally familiar arms are thrown around him from behind.

“Surprise! Guess who?” Your voice reaches his ears, and despite his better judgment, Moze reaches to envelop your hands with his. He presses down against your knuckles, enraptured for a split second in the way they curve and fit against his own rough palms. 

“You know these guessing games are pointless.” His words are gruff, but you can hear that faintest hint of a smile with each syllable. “You’re the only person in the world that I’d let sneak up on me.”

“Won’t you entertain me a little? It’s more fun that way.” Normally at this point, you’d unwrap your arms from behind him so you can skip up to his side, but for whatever reason, Moze’s grip on your hands today is firm. It’s as if he doesn’t want you to let go.

What a silly, soft crow he’s become. You don’t mind indulging him, even if it means reading between the lines of what he says. And you’re sure Moze’s in agreement with you.

Being soft isn’t so bad. 

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎ SUNDAY

Sunday realizes he’s falling in love with you when he asks you to join him for a bath. As the former Oak Family head, he had very little time for himself, and the few minutes he could spend emptying his mind within a tub of warm water was his equivalent of everyday bliss. During his imprisonment, bathing alone was a luxury that was barred from him—anything and everything he did was under watchful eyes. And on the Astral Express, Sunday almost fears what his mind will conjure up if left alone for too long. The bath has always been a place of vulnerability for the man, and yet, your gentleness makes him want to slowly let you into the deepest parts of his heart. This meek, scared side of him is still a part of who he is, and he’s willing to place his faith wholeheartedly in you.

A satisfied sigh leaves Sunday’s lips as he lets the tense muscles in his body relax for once. The bathwater is already warm as is, but being nestled in between your legs, with his back against your chest and your damp fingers carding through his hair, makes his skin tingle even more with heat. He doesn’t think anyone has ever touched him this sweetly and lovingly, and he hopes you attribute the flush on his cheeks to the steam culminating in the bathroom.

“Is the temperature of the water okay?” Your worried voice shakes him gently out of his swirling thoughts. He nods wordlessly before sinking a bit deeper into the tub. The edge of the water clings to the ends of his hair, and it laps greedily at the swell of his throat as if threatening to swallow him whole.

An ambient silence falls over the two of you, and the only sound Sunday can make out is the quiet trickle of water sloshing back and forth between your connected bodies and the exquisitely crafted sound of your breaths. Sunday tries to match your breathing cadence, and something deep in his chest stirs at the thought that doing so might match his heartbeat to yours.

“...Thank you for joining me,” he murmurs. His eyelids feel heavy, and when he leans his head back, you peer at him from above. The glow of the bathroom lights illuminates the back of your head and around your face, and he can’t help but think that the thought of a halo suits you far more than it would him. “It feels nice to have you here with me.”

“Of course.” Your lips curl upwards into the same smile that made him fall for you to begin with. “Thank you for inviting me, Sunday. You must have had a long day. Why don’t you rest here, in my arms?”

It’s his turn to smile slightly. It’s weak but enough for you to notice, and when Sunday lets his tired eyes shut, he can’t help but think that his instant must be his equivalent of true paradise. 

✧˖°.☪︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖☁︎ JING YUAN

Jing Yuan realizes he’s falling in love with you when he finds himself comfortable enough with you to complain. It’s not an easy job to be the general and manage such a big and chaotic place as the Luofu, and he’s learned very quickly that even the slightest twitch of his mouth is enough to send the delicate politics of the Xianzhou Alliance up in arms. And as much of an optimist as he is, even he has limits to how much he can bottle up and carry out in the name of peacekeeping. It’s a big leap of faith for him to confide so many secrets in you, but at the same time, you’re the only one who can truly empathize with him. Besides, when you welcome him home with a big hug and rub your hands over his sore shoulders, how can he resist the temptation of sharing every part of him with you?

“I’ve been thinking,” Jing Yuan remarks out loud, “I’m quite lucky to have fallen in love with someone like you.”

You pause momentarily, your hands ghosting over Jing Yuan’s broad shoulders. You’re no professional masseuse by any means, but there’s something so satisfying about feeling his knotted muscles come undone bit by bit under your careful touch. Besides, maybe this is your selfishness speaking, you like having the knowledge that the esteemed general of the Luofu melts like a cat into your fingertips as if he can’t get enough of your body on his. 

“What makes you say that?” You raise an eyebrow. Did he get himself in trouble? And was he cozying up to you in hopes that you’d help bail him out or something?

Instead, the white-haired man shrugs, and a couple strands of his loose moonlight-colored hair tumbles over his shoulders and hangs above his chest. “You’re always so understanding with me. You always listen to everything I say as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. I doubt anyone else could endure my complaints about how grueling administrative work can be. And what’s more, you don’t tell a living soul about it!”

“Who knows? Maybe I have spilled the Luofu's deepest darkest secrets to someone already. And I’m just that good at hiding it from you.” You grin at him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes. The general stares up at you momentarily before throwing his back and rewarding you with a genuine, hearty laugh. 

“See? This is what I mean. Nobody else would have the audacity to say something so outwardly false and yet so daring to my face!” He reaches over to grab your hand, and he guides it over to the edge of his face. Your palm molds into the curve of his jaw, and you let your thumb roll over the soft flesh of his cheek. 

Your grin morphs into something much more mild, lovestruck as he nuzzles his face into your hand, sighing happily against your knuckles and the creases in your palm. “That’s on you then, my dear Jing Yuan, for falling for someone like me.”

x

[daffydilled]

On using the Robins

Alright, I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but DC? We gotta talk about the Robins and how they're used. For a company and comic universe with a truly spectacular willingness to explore every possible avenue of a character, if you want to really get to the point of Batman, we're going to need Robins used consistently across media and we're going to need the right ones used.

Why? TL;DR: the Robin you use tells us a hell of a lot about the Batman you're using. If you're going to keep using Batman in everything, we're going to need Robins. And they need to be the right ones. Using the wrong Robin is destroying live action DC adaptations.

Believe it or not, this whole rant started with me playing Gotham Knights on my PS5. Normally, anything that distinguishes between Robins and puts them interacting with others is pretty damn good to go in my book. It's not exactly common, after all. But I got about 15 hours into it and realized what was bugging me so much: it uses the wrong Robins.

Let me clarify. Nightwing and Red Hood are nearly perfect. They're exactly where they need to be. But if that game let Tim Drake detect in the role filled by Batgirl, let Batgirl be Oracle, and put Damian Wayne into the 'young Robin finding his wings' role that Tim plays, the story would have been far more cohesive. Why? Because I would have bought the final word Bruce tells them far more and I would have bought Talia's involvement as well.

This particular Bruce Wayne is an older Batman, one comfortable removing himself from the cause and passing it on to the rest of his family. The balance of Robins (and the misuse of Batgirl) upsets this. This isn't a team that is ready for that step yet, and Bruce in-game would know that. One can argue that's part of the tragedy of it, but the weight of the dynamic is still lopsided. The game feels unbalanced. If a story is going to rest on proteges and inheritors, I need to buy their ability to take over for Batman, and I don't. (And don't get me started on the misuse of Babs in this game. That woman has her own team, her own struggle!

Batman v Superman pokes me too. It's the lack of a Robin in these, though, that really grind my gears. That is a violent, brutal Batman that has fallen so far into 'The Mission's' ass, I kept expecting to see a suited memorial to a dead kid in his batcave and an extremely stubborn thirteen-year old stopping him from breaking a Kryptonian's face open before the dread "Save Martha" can be said.

That is a Batman that screams I just lost my son. He is so angry and bitter and walks around with an armory for a suit. That's a perfectly acceptable Batman to explore, when paired with the context of Jason Todd. Otherwise, it just reads like they made the movie gritty for the sake of being gritty and missed out on piles of nuance for both the heroes.

Frankly, a Batman grieving Jason Todd and a Superman processing the arrival of a cloned version of him mixed with Luthor's DNA would go miles to explaining the mental states of both these guys, but nobody bothered to do that, so I'm just bitter.

One of the oddest mix-ups of Robins I've ever seen has absolutely nothing to do with Batman. It's from Birds of Prey or The Fabulous Emancipation of Harley Quinn, where somehow Stephanie Brown and Jason Todd pre-pit get fused into one character and named Cassandra Cain. That is. Odd. I don't even really know how to address it, but I'm going to try.

Fact one: Steph would have been a perfect kid for Harley to meet in that movie. She's whip-smart, tough as nails, survived having a supervillain for a dad, and could, in the right light, even look a bit like Harley. There's this great potential there for her to remind Harley of a younger version of herself before the Joker got to her and wouldn't have messed with the vibes Birds of Prey was going for at all.

Fact two: Jason Todd also wouldn't have been too odd of a fit, especially if this was happening in a world where he did manage to jack the tires. He's immediately recognizable to the fans, though, which I do think would have pulled focus from the Birds in that movie.

Fact three: That was not Cassandra Cain and it was frankly a bit of an insult to her character to name that character Cassandra Cain. That's a rant for another time though.

Why mention it now? It's indicative of the greater issue DC has with adapting its characters to screen. Namely the issue to actually adapt the characters at all and not turn them into some weird Frankenstein'd versions of themselves. There's no Batman in Birds of Prey, but the world he'd inhabit is. And that world, based on our poor scrambled egg mess of Robins, is a disaster.

I think it's important for DC to remember they are adapting comics here, and those comics do not shy away from using Robins in them. Even in the most bat-shit (pun not intended) alternate universes where there's Cthulhu Batman or Edwardian Batman or White Knight Batman, the Robins are there.

How they're living and dying in those universes is one of the reliable ways to judge things like tone, narrative priorities, and themes. There's nothing wrong with trying a few different version of Batman, but Batman without Robin doesn't work long-term. It hasn't before and it will continue to fail if DC, in their adaptations, don't get a handle on their universes' scale. After all, the heroes only work if they have people to pass the work onto.

[duckduckgoosebutitsinatrench]

So when I wrote this I meant like, Ace Just Some Guyed his way into some ambiguous "will they won't they" Totally Platonic cuddles, but in light of recent events, I think they should kiss actually. They should get married.

AceYuu headcanons:

Ace both fell first and fell harder. My boy spent the night at Ramshackle one weekend to go on a horror movie binge, and then Yuu fell asleep- not even ON him, Yuu just fell asleep next to him on the floor in a blanket cocoon- and then his brain decided to finally process all the feelings he had and engage his pattern recognition like "aw yes, I've seen this before, time to date" and just dropped the FONDEST, most Hozier level yearning "I love you" bombshell on this poor, poor mans internal dialogue

You should've seen it, it was the most accurate windows crash buffer screen to ever grace the world of twisted Wonderland

Bro shut down. Bro zoned out so hard he had a whole ass out of body experience and he was still too busy staring at Yuu drooling in a raggedy ass quilt to even notice. Bro did NOT finish that horror movie! (It was a pretty shitty one anyway so he didn't really care) Bro barely slept, he just stared at the ceiling until Yuu woke up the next morning (if 12:37 pm still even counts as morning to you) and came out of their little one man blanket fort wearing HIS OLD T-SHIRT HE LENT TO THEM- FUCK

... Welp. Time to roll with it. In love or not, Ace Trappola is Ace Trappola and Ace Trappola is an asshole! But now he's an asshole that's buying Yuu coffee twice a week and then complaining about it even though he's the one who insisted on buying it in the first place

Finds every fucking opportunity to make a flirty ass "joke" that everyone and their mama can tell isn't really a joke trying to gauge how Yuu feels about him. Sebek is gripping the steel chair getting ready to swing

You know how Yuu gets into a Situation every other day? Yeah. You know how Ace is now getting very very close to having an actual fucking heart attack?

Ace prides himself in taking care of Yuu, it's one of the things he'd do even if he can't take care of them in exactly the way he wants. But seriously Perfect! You can't just text him in the middle of basketball practice saying you fell off your fucking ROOF- WHAT WERE YOU DOING UP THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!

Ortho dead ass has to put them both on house arrest for a few days to monitor them because Ace actually almost came close to a medical emergency from the stress.

He wants so badly to be mad at Yuu- and he is! But their guilty face and whispered apologies and the weird little cat-like bonk they gave him are taking up an unusual amount of space in his mind and for some reason he can't remember what he was supposed to be angry about right now

He thinks he's being so damn slick with this crush and keeping his very very intense feelings a secret and laying low and shit and then you go and talk to a Scarabia student B and he's like "I thought they were already dating?... What do you MEAN they're not even together?!"

Worst kept secret in all of NRC. Cater goes live and starts talking about his "cute, oblivious little freshmen" and Yuu watches it and is like "damn, wonder who he's talking about :D" and Ace wants to die

The pinning stage is so real bro! Ace is over here taking them out to arcades and cafes and local pop-up fairs and is trying his best to pretend this is a date that Duece and Grim are just third wheeling on

I honestly don't think there's even a real confession? It's gonna be one of those "Didn't realize we were dating" things. Ace somehow just sweet talks his way into Yuus bed for the night after lying and saying he was kicked out of heartslabyul and they're just cuddling and then Yuu just gives a little sigh and is like

"I kind of want to kiss you right now", it's barely a whisper and he more so feels the breath on his neck than hears the actual words but OH BOY

Give him a minute. Give him a minute he needs it. He'll kiss you in a minute just let him freak out first

You almost regretted saying it, regretted breaking the ice that you both had seemed to silently agree Wasn't There.

Maybe f you were more awake, then you would. Maybe you would fluster and try to take it back, or maybe you would have a sudden surge of bravery and double down on your desires.

Maybe.

But you were tired, and Ace was warm- he was always so warm, you know? His skin always seemed to run hotter than anyone else you knew, with the exception of his cold hands, which were currently wrapping around you tighter than they were just a few seconds ago, something you were too sleepy to truly process. All you noticed was how his fingers dug into your skin, into your waist, into your shoulder and the back of your neck and how his breath hitched.

Your eyes were getting heavier by the second. Being trapped in your best friend's arms and knowing you were safe, knowing, that on some deep, unconscious level, that you were loved, would do that to you.

Sleep always came easy when he was here to protect you and look after you, even with him complaining the whole way.

Ace's breaths we're coming out shallow and slow, like he was trying his best not to break something fragile, and your tired mind briefly wonders why before you feel his thumb drawing circles into your nape and your brain goes peacefully blank again.

Taking in a slight shaking breath, his voice comes out in the same barely-there whisper yours had, with a tone filled with something you knew you weren't quite ready to face, "...Do you mean it?... Hey", he shook you slightly, just enough to jostle you out of the sandman's gentle grasp, "Yuu! Do you... Do you mean it?"

His voice wasn't even really there by the end, but his hand had moved to your face, his palms gently cradling your face and his chilled fingers caressing the space just under your eyes, seemingly trying to wake you up through the small touches as his body shifts to be just barely hovering over yours.

You blink slowly up at him, and answer with a yes that was based more on instincts and intuition than actually logically understanding what he was asking.

You were so tired, but he was just so damn beautiful that you felt you would give him the world in this moment, if only he asked for it. You would find a way for him.

And as he slowly moved his hand down to trace your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between your lips and your half asleep eyes as he slowly leaned in, you felt your heart swell with a more intense feeling than you ever thought you could have.

The feeling of his lips, soft from the cherry chapstick he'd bought a few months ago, the same one you found every excuse to borrow, somehow felt more right than anything else ever since you got to this strange new world.

It helped that he wasn't a bad kisser either.

Seconds felt like years, and your heartbeat was speeding up ringing through your entire body when he pulled away, a loving, disbelieving smile that was quickly pulling into that boyish smirk you loved so much was right there on his face, seared into your memory

"I knew you couldn't resist me"

You knew how it should have sounded, you knew how he meant it to sound, how it was supposed to be smug and slightly condescending, but it just came out so, so fond. Like he had waited a thousand lifetimes for this, and he would've waited a thousand more.

You hummed, a faint knowing in the back of your brain that you would be nearly as calm about this once morning came, as you tangled your hands in his messy hair, and kissed him again.

The next morning was an EVENT, all the blood in your body relocated to your face and Ace had never teased you so hard! just ignore the fact that he hasn't let go of your hand all morning! Please.

The first people to find out about this is, of course, Grim and Deuce, who share a look with various levels of played up disgust

The next person is surprisingly Sebek, who finally stops white knuckling that chair to congratulate you... and somehow drag your friendship with Malleus into said congratulations

He becomes so damn insufferable. Once he realized he can be a boyfriend and live out all the fantasies he's had in his head for months? All bets are off baby! He is so annoying about it! You love it

He's such a good boyfriend? Surprisingly? I firmly believe that the only reason he treated his ex like that is because he didn't really know her before they started dating, he just thought that being in a relationship would be fun and cool and he just jumped into it without actually thinking about it first

WITH YOU THOUGH?! WITH HIS BEST FRIEND THAT HE CARES ABOUT VERY VERY MUCH?! OH HE IS STEPPING IT UP! HE IS GONNA GET A GOOD GRADE IN BOYFRIEND IF IT FUCKING KILLS HIM

Not much changes, really. You were both already kind of dating before this anyways, the only thing different is that he can kiss you and use those cheesy ass pet names that he pretends to cringe at but secretly loves. That's right! He's going to unironically call you some shit like "sweetie pie honey bunches" and then pretend he was calling you that ironically! Epel is in hell

He still isn't gonna stop complaining about buying your coffee though- no! Put your wallet away he's still gonna do it, dammit!

As much as i love all the other Yuu ships like Malleyuu, Silyuu, Jadeyuu, floydyuu, Jamiyuu, etc. NOTHING and i mean NOTHING is funnier than Ace mother fucking Trapollo Just Some Guying his way into Yuus bed

[h4kka]

something i've noticed about ave mujica...

most of the other bandori bands took time to rise to fame, even the more corporate/commercially-driven ones (eg. pasupare and roselia belonging to agencies; chu2 producing ras by herself). pasupare initially struggled with their reputation as "lip*syncers", slowly moved away from it, and gained more opportunities overtime, roselia's overarching goal was to play at future world fes and a lot of their story was dedicated to reaching this goal but they didnt join an agency until AFTER they did so, etc.

ave mujica, on the other hand, became a immediate hit the second they debuted and right away they had to constantly juggle with high expectations from fans, promotional work, interviews, photoshoots, maintaining their kayfabe as much as possible even after the budokan face reveal...i think their faster rise to fame compared to the other bands (and the massive workload they deal with right off the bat) is a major factor in why they're so dysfunctional and also why they crumbled apart so easily (and quickly). they didnt have as much time to learn from their mistakes, realize their flaws/issues, or strengthen their bonds like the other bands did.

case in point, mygo is also a very dysfunctional band but they're still at the stage where they're just playing gigs at livehouses and aside from playing for the rest of their lives, they still don't have a concrete idea of the band's future. yet despite it all, they're still trying to keep going and heal from their traumas, especially since tomori is the heart keeping them together, and the comparative lack of pressure regarding their band activities/goals is what's giving them the time to gradually move on.

[star-lights-up]

OKAY OKAY OKAY BUT: Cherik "The Martian" AU

So I'm rereading the martian today because i am sick again, so obviously I need hard science fiction to combat the existential dread, and my brain just kept latching onto dialogue bits and going "CHERIK! MAKE IT CHERIK"

My thoughts are:

Charles and Erik were friends at one point, maybe during college, maybe at the beginning of training, IDK, at some point they had a bit of a falling out. They're civil enough to still get put on the mission together but it's well known they don't get along.

Though there was that one night, where they were both kinda drunk, and they got together......... ("We can't do this again." Erik said, angrily, in the morning. Charles left without so much as glancing at him, let alone responding.)

There's a sandstorm on sol 6, and the team is trying to evacuate (probably the first class team because that's just easy. Hank = pilot. I bet you moira is the leader lady, lewis, military trained or whatever. And everyone else is there too, but i'm on my asthma medication so I can't think clearly, so they don't get specific roles)

The radio dish comes off, impales Charles, he blows backward while unconscious (lower gravity or some shit idk physics) and crashes into Erik, who then gets hit by more debris. The thing that impaled Charles also impaled his biotelemetry reader, and Erik's got crushed on impact/by the debris, so both of them read as dead to their crew members, who have to leave or else they die too.

Erik wakes up first, since he's not actively bleeding and his suit's not impaled and loosing air. The sandstorm is over, the HAB (think space station/tent) is intact (yay!), but the MAV (think small spaceship good for like, a round trip to and from a larger vessel) is gone (fuck).

He tries to wake Charles up, but ends up dragging him back to the HAB on his own. He takes out the antenna that impaled him and sews up and bandages the cut, while Charles is semi-conscious. It's painful for now, but he'll live. Erik's exhausted, so he goes back to his own bunk and falls asleep, kinda hoping this is all a nightmare.

It's not gone in the morning. He's still stuck on mars in a glorified tent with limited resources and his least favorite person on the team.

They talk to each other, Charles thanks him for helping him, and they decide that they're just going to have to work together to get off of mars alive.

Charles = botanist, erik is the engineer (basically gonna have them split the original main guy's braincell. They already share one anyway).

Potato farming

Along the way, they kinda sorta start becoming friends again. They're relying on each other to survive, they're the only people each other can talk to... They play chess on the computers and watch Moira's awful 70's television and listen to disco that she brought along with her. They farm potatoes and jerry rig rovers and then oops, they fell asleep in the same tiny bunk watching tv together. Oops, they hugged after the potatoes germinated. Oops, they kissed in celebration when they finally made contact with NASA again.

Just like that, they've fallen into a new rhythm. They still argue a lot, but now there's also a good amount of kissing and little fleeting touches while they work together and they put their bunks together and fall asleep in each other's arms ("Do you realize," Charles says one night, Erik curled against his chest, pressing slow kisses to his collarbone, "We're the only people to have made love on a planet other than Earth?" Erik snorts softly, "NASA's not going to be hearing about that, if I can help it." "You realize that the HAB's always recording us, yes? They'll get the footage when we get back to Earth." "...Right. Huh." Erik frowns, then shrugs, "Worth it." Charles laughs.)

Erik gets stuck inside the airlock when the HAB deflates and they loose all their potatoes. Charles is in the rover and, for a while, was convinced Erik was dead. Until he saw the airlock start to roll towards the HAB, and then he started steering the rover over.

After they got the HAB back up, NASA tells them they're sending a supply probe called "Iris." (Transmission goes like this: [08:31] JPL: Keep us posted on any mechanical or electric problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending is Iris. Named after the Greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. She's also the goddess of rainbows. [08:47] LEN/XAV: Gay probe coming to save us. Got it. Erik heads back to the HAB. "Hello, darling. How's Houston?" Charles says, not turning from his soil samples or whatever the fuck he's been doing for three days. "They're sending us a pride-themed probe full of granola bars." Erik answers, shoving off his EVA suit. Charles turns to give him a quizzical, are-you-joking kind of look, then bursts out laughing upon seeing Erik's dead serious face. "Well, it's certainly fitting," He says, walking up to Erik and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.)

Anyways. Iris doesn't make it, shit keeps going wrong, BUT eventually their team catches wind of a plan -- a risky plan, but one that could save cherik. So, without houston's permission, they pilot their ship on a course back to mars. They'll do a flyby, and if Charles and Erik can get to the site of Ares 5 and the MAV for that mission, retrofit the MAV, make it to their team's ship without dying/miscalculating and shooting off into the depths of outer space, they can get to that ship and on a course back to earth by sol 549.

They spend a bunch of time retrofitting their rovers for the trip, and so begins the classic cherik roadtrip -- martian style!! (I just want to mention that there's like no space, so just picture them cuddled up for a good night's sleep on the front bench of the rover. there. cuteness among the science).

They flip at one point. I could add details but it's been a while of me writing this and my brain is slowly dying and i'm tired so. that's it.

They make it to ares 5, they retrofit the MAV, then they do The Riskiest Space Flight of All Time. Random shit goes wrong, everyone's improvising, it pretty much seems like they're done for...

They get back to the big ship. They're safe!! (well, as safe as you can be in space.) But they get a hot shower and full meals and much more comfortable bunks (in separate rooms, technically, but Erik refuses to leave Charles's side so they end up in one bunk that first night. Usually they'd try to be a bit more discreet, but what the fuck. They've been stuck on mars. They almost just died. They deserve to fall asleep in each other's arms.)

They are HEROS back on earth. They get married almost immediately -- it seems quick to a lot of people, but they're so trauma bonded that, like, it's necessary. they go to paris on their honeymoon and get lots of free stuff. They never go to space again lol (and gladly)

THE END (fucking finally, it's 12:00 am on the dot and i've been writing this for 45 minutes.)

EDIT: some art I did for this au

[crazylittlejester]

Could you give us more about trans Time? (If that’s okay!)

Love that hc btw, it makes me really happy ^^

hell yes i can!! I love trans Time, trans that man's gender. oot link is like the vibes of transgenderism compressed into one single silly little guy (gender neutral). however people trans oot link's gender is always correct in my mind (i personally hc him to be ftm but i really do love seeing any version of him that's not cis)

im gonna apologize rn for any typos or oddly autocorrected words im dyslexic and my laptop works against me sometimes lmao

anyways not sure what exactly you wanted to know (and feel free to ask more questions!!) but i think this was in reference to my modern au post so!!:

Time was born in the late 70s (since the au takes place in present day and he is a good 25 years older than Twi), so growing up he didn't really see a whole lot of trans people who could've helped him realize he was trans sooner, especially because his childhood was mostly him having an awful time with his physical health and arguing with his father for the chance to go to public school and not be homeschooled like his siblings (he is the youngest of 6) because he didn't get along with all of them and wanted to meet new people

Looking back on it NOW he can recognize he realized he was trans when he was like, 12, but at the time he didn't really know what that was and just cut his hair short and didn't understand why he got so happy when people mistakenly called him a boy

There was a period of time where he was confused and thought he was a lesbian (he is bisexual) and he dated Ruto for like a year in high school but they kinda ended up becoming friends instead (they're STILL friends), and then he dated Sheik, who is a trans man, and the realization hit him like a bus

He graduated high school and then just kinda dipped off the map, he didn't realy have friends (besides Ruto, and MALON considered them friends but he didn't realize she liked him that much) so he didn't really keep in contact with people except for Sheik (he was also doing pretty bad physically at this point in time), but he started socially transitioning around 18 and was able to start medically transitioning around 20. Not all his siblings were super accepting, and he's completely cut contact with one of them, but his sister closest to him in age who was his best friend growing up was his biggest supporter

(this modern au takes place in a modernized Hyrule kingdom loosely based on where I live because obviously where I live is the best idea I have of how modern sociey works since I'm living in it, lmao, but Hyrule kingdom was a little more progressive in the late 90s and while gender affirming care wasn't SUPER easy to access, it WAS accessable. the main issue for Time was transphobia from his oldest brother and the people from his INCREDIBLY tightknit town, because outside of that people didn't know he was trans)

Malon was fully aware he was trans because she met him before HE realized that, so when those two got together he didn't have to worry about telling her or anything. And they WERE going to adopt kids at some point, but then Time's sister died and her husband had passed away too and she'd written in her will that she'd wanted Time to take care of her baby (Twi), because she wanted him to have a wonderful environment growing up and she trusted Time more than their other siblings even though they'd all already settled down and had their own kids and were experienced parents (also to be fair, she didn't expect to die and leave her 13 month old an orphan. it was just an IN the event of her death kinda thing, she very much would've rather been able to raise her kid herself)

Time doesn't really give two fucks about passing, not anymore, he wears what he wants, but most people DO assume he's a cis man because he's decently tall and has a deeper, monotoned voice. Transphobia does still exist in Hyrule Kingdom, though it's not as bad as it was when Time was a kid, and also the city where the boys' apartment in is incredibly LGBTQ+ friendly (not that that means homophobia and transphobia don't exist, it's just a much safer area to be out that other places in the kingdom) so he doesn't ever feel like he has to HIDE being trans. He goes to pride parades sometimes (when he knows he won't get overwhelmed) and he and Malon are definitely that older couple who give out free supportive parent hugs to people who really need it

Legend in this au is also a trans man, and I wouldn't call Wild cis but he's amab and uses he/him pronouns at the moment while he figures things out (he's also perfectly fine with they/them)

[hurtspideyparker]

Winterhawk: a quiet moment where one of them realizes they can't imagine a future without the other one and they wouldn't have it any other way.

They have a routine.

Clint knows Bucky inside out, knows him in a way that scares and comforts the man.

Bucky is often doom and gloom after a mission, silent yet imposing. He fills the space with Cabanel angel eyes and twitching fingers, and all Clint does is steer him towards the passenger seat of the quinjet and fly them home.

It's quiet in their shared space too, not a word spoken past the threshold. They shed their skin, drop off their weapons, shower together in too hot water. Efficient, Clint once said, and both of them knew that wasn't why.

Bucky shouldn't be alone.

It wasn't the time for jokes though, wasn't the type of heaviness that could be lightened, only shared; contrary to popular belief, Clint knew when to shut up (he usually just didn't care). For Bucky though, they speak in touch. A kiss on Bucky's bare shoulder to tell him to turn around so Clint can wash his back, a tug on his elbow to the medicine cabinet so he can wrap up a wound.

They get dressed separately, loose clothing as opposed to the tight leather of their suits.

Bucky likes to wear Clint's sweaters, because they're old and worn in. Bucky doesn't own much in general, like he's always prepared to move on with just a duffel bag at a moment's notice, and what he does have is only a couple years old at the latest.

Clint knows that he'll be back to normal in the morning. He always is; telling Clint he's a blanket hog and intolerable to sleep next to while at the same time cuddling closer, complaining about his eggs being too overcooked, telling Clint he's not funny while unable to hide a grin.

As Bucky settles on the opposite side of the couch though, back to the arm rest and feet tucked under Clint's thighs, he understands it wouldn't matter.

It wouldn't matter if he wasn't back to normal in the morning, or the next day, or the next month. Bucky could be silent for the rest of his life, staring right through souls with unseeing eyes, sensitive to just about everything, like thread count and the volume of the TV being over 16, and Clint would still be here. Would need to be here, wherever Bucky is.

Clint rests a hand on the man's ankle, a seemingly innocent grip disguising the archer's possession. He doesn't have his hearing aids in and the TV is turned too low as background noise, but he's mostly focused on Bucky anyways.

It surprises him, the need, the want, the urge to be here. He likes bad nights with Bucky; also likes making him laugh, and getting to watch him smile around their friends. He wants to come home to him in his clothes, burning dinner, wants to surprise him when a solo mission ends early and get a hug that still feels like he was gone for an eternity.

At some point their two lives have been so entwined that when he thinks of his future he thinks of Bucky's place in it.

It doesn't scare him.

Bucky just sits there, eyes on the TV with a glaze that means he's somewhere else. Clint tugs on the ankle, pulling the foot into his lap. He starts to massage it, deep and slow pressure, and Bucky's eyes shut quietly.

Yes, Clint is just fine where he is, and where he'll always be if he can help it.

[bambi-kinos]

Thank you for your refreshingly honest comments about Yoko Ono. I find people’s sycophancy towards her and refusal to examine her behaviour a bit sickening, to be honest. There’s clearly an unspoken rule that Yoko is off limits, which is very strange, given that no other person or subject is. Anyway, what I would like to ask you is this: to what extent, if any, do you think Yoko was herself a victim? Did she simply find herself surrounded by bad people who manipulated her (the Sams, John Green, Fred Seaman, etc), or did she seek those people out to do her bidding? From what we know of the plan she made at the start with Tony and the fact that Dan Richter (a very unsettling character in the whole sordid tale) was an old friend who she brought in as part of that plan, I think the latter. But most people on here think she’s great and that she couldn’t help being mentally ill, so hey, maybe it’s just me and my cynicism that says she’s every bit as wicked as her ex-employees claim. What do you think?

When it comes to how Yoko is treated, there's genuinely a lot of nasty history there so fans on tumblr try to tread carefully. It's not an exaggeration that Yoko faced a lot of horrible racism when she was with John and there were even moments when John had to shield her from physical harm. And she was a lightning rod of criticism for lots of other reasons. Once John died she was essentially put in the role of "grieving widow" and boy howdy she milked that forever but it also meant that people were suddenly less willing to criticize her because they didn't want to add to her troubles.

Not to mention John and Yoko worked very hard to network with up and comers once they realized old hands like Ray Connelly wasn't going to play ball with them since they were too experienced. They created a lot of journalistic careers by making the right friends in the 1970s. Many media personalities feel indebted to them and would happily throw themselves in front of a car if Mommy Yoko and Daddy John don't suffer even a whiff of a papercut. When you read Eliot Mintz's book you realize that John and Yoko very deliberately targeted emotionally vulnerable people with empty lives and no strong parental figures so that they could become a quasi-family to them. That's what happened to poor Mintz, John would scream racial slurs at him (because Mintz is Jewish) and Mintz would just kind of. Stand there and take it while John screeched and squalled trying to pretend he was still a bigshot and not a drunkard in his 30s abusing his personal assistant. So much of the public bubble you've noticed is a result of John and Yoko's recruiting tactics. Celebrities usually get a level of protection but John and Yoko cynically courted and elevated the right people to wrap themselves in adamantium.

Fans try too hard to handle her lightly as a result of all the heat she took after marrying John, especially since a bit more is now known about her life and how she grew up and how her dad didn't treat her very well. I also think that there's an element of disbelief, like Yoko's crimes are insane and outlandish, no one wants to believe that they are true. And I know from personal experience that if you try to bring outlandish but true things to someone's attention about their favorite celebrity, you immediately get screaming and hysterics. Cult think is strong.

I don't think Beatle fans on tumblr necessarily buy in to excuses about mental illness and trauma but I do think that they're scared of being criticized or being accused of racism if they're too hard on Yoko. Tumblr users are uniquely vulnerable to that sort of thing because of this website's history and demographics so they take the easy route. I don't really blame them tbh, you never know when something is going to blow up in your face and who wants to court that trouble? There's no benefit to talking about Yoko's problems and abuse of John and Sean in depth since most people are just here for the fanart.

But to move on to your question: I think Yoko was an experienced con artist and manipulator with a genuine artistic vision but I also think she got in way over her head. Yoko's thing appears to have been that she and Tony would scam John with art pieces and that's why they did insane shit like making a contract to split the earnings they got from John 50/50. Get him to buy some plastic crap (that was quite literally all the rage in the 60s "zomg plastic!!!!") and then take the money and run. But I think Yoko sensed early that John was an easy mark and that he was someone she could pump and dump. I think that Yoko started seeing dollar signs and pursued John to get a bigger and bigger payday, she was chasing that dragon.

When it comes to the people Yoko was surrounded by, it's another case of her walking in with her eyes wide open but not realizing how completely in over her head she was. She very deliberately surrounded herself with con artists just like her because she thought it would be easier to control John and fortify her power over him. There were outliers like John Green/Charlie Swan where she believed his bullshit (the man is a masterful con artist) but she was convinced that she was much smarter and savvier than she really was and that she would see through any scams. She was blinded by her pride and never realized just how many rides she was taken for. Like IIRC Charlie Swan helped someone fence a fake painting to her that she paid millions for lol. They realized that she was an easy mark specifically because of her conviction that she was a worldly and experience player. Reader, she is not.

You can see this mindset during her life with John, they were hiring people off the street to work for them and never noticed they were being robbed blind. Like she and John were hoarders to the Nth degree, they bought all those extra condos in the Dakota specifically so that had storage units for all the useless shit they bought. Hundreds maybe thousands of shirts, pants, dresses, coats, scarves, jewelry, never worn and never catalogued, never looked after. Paintings and ancient artifacts stolen from Egypt on the black market, Yoko may have purchased as many as two different Egyptian mummies. Those people that they brought in from the street learned quickly that they could steal whatever they wanted and John and Yoko would never notice. A few of them were caught but there was one case where someone lifted 5 Hermès scarves from Yoko and she didn't notice for over a month and then dragged her heels on filing the police report. Because the Hermès scarves were not actually important since she had dozens of them in the storage apartments. I imagine the staff that stayed on learned quickly that they could steal freely so long as they were smart about it. God knows that's what I would do lmao.

But the point is that Yoko knowingly took in people who were willing to steal from her because she thought she could outsmart or control them, she had no idea how to defend against complicated tactics like "I'll put this in my bag and walk out with it at the end of my shift." I have the feeling John took the theft a lot more seriously than she did. Not that he was willing to do his bit and look after their collection of high end junk, I can't imagine what all their expensive clothes looked like after 10 years in that storage unit since neither of them protected them from pests.

Yoko willingly took these people on and invited them into her home. She and John thought they could use the likes of Charlie Swan and Fred Seaman and the Sams the same way they used journalists like Jann Wenner. What John and Yoko did not realize is that journalism is Hollywood for ugly people, that journalists are uniquely deficient in character or backbone and that journalists are always on the look out for a new Daddy and Mommy to pat them on the head and say "good job son!" Journalists and Hollywood actors are the same, they have holes in their chests were Mom's love and Dad's pride should be.

The problem for Yoko is that the scam artists she hired were extremely skilled, experienced, and ice cold. I love Charlie Swan's book Dakota Days and I believe every word of it (I can repost my review of it if you like) but especially because he coldly shows how childish and self absorbed John and Yoko really were. While they were faffing around doing rich people shit like flying around to random cities based on one guy's bespoke numerology, Charlie Swan grew up having to work for a living before getting into the astrology business. He knew what it was like to work difficult jobs for little money and even attended university and earned a degree in a time before universities became diploma mills. He was savvy and educated and lived an entire life before meeting John and Yoko, got spiritual fulfillment and assurance from his magickal practice. Charlie Swan did not have a hole in his chest where Mom's love and Dad's pride should be. Which meant he simply could not be manipulated the way a journalist can be manipulated. And Yoko Ono could not comprehend this and could do nothing about it. Nothing she said or did had any power over Charlie. She couldn't do anything to him and he frequently scammed her out of millions all while laughing up his sleeve. She thought she could control him but the truth is he had her completely under his thumb. Kind of amazing actually.

The thing that has always baffled me about Yoko is how easy it is to kick her around and stand up to her. John Lennon too as a matter of fact, I don't understand this handwringing and moaning and fear around his "great wit." I grew up on 4chan, I know people who could turn John inside out with a well placed photoshop. It's genuinely baffling to me that Yoko and John were not savagely and relentlessly bullied. They should have been. It lead John and Yoko to develop inflated egos where they thought they were genuinely intimidating. They never realized how pathetic and easily taken in they were because everyone else found it more useful and lucrative to scam them. It's fascinating that Yoko willingly brought these people into her life with John and never once realized that there was a problem.

[spoonsandstripesblog]

Introduction

To kick off my blog, here is a little introduction of myself and my Ehlers Danlos story.

A little about me first. I'm 32 and I live in Massachusetts, and I consider myself incredibly lucky to live in a state that has top notch health care. I live with my long-term partner, Dave, who you will likely hear me discuss frequently as he is my primary support system. He is a true saint, putting up with what he's put up with over the last nearly 6 years. I have a cat, his name is Cael. I have no children, with no intention on having children.

I wasn't diagnosed with EDS until 2017, I was 25. As a child, we knew I was hypermobile but we didn't realize what that actually meant for me health-wise. We always just assumed that that meant I was incredibly flexible and double-jointed, but in reality it was a lot more than that. I was a very active child and teen, I participated in various sports (although I wasn't very good at them), and because of this I dealt with a lot of injuries. Sprains mostly, ankles, wrists, etc. I didn't have any major injuries until I was well into my teens, I began dislocating my small joints like my fingers and wrists, making me a liability on athletic teams. As I got into my late teens and early 20s, I started to develop chronic pain and arthritis, and so I was referred to a rheumatologist who treated me for seronegative Rheumatoid Arthritis, which basically meant that I fit the criteria but the blood work was negative. I was treated with chemotherapeutic drugs like Methotrexate and eventually I was started on IV infusions (Simponi). During this time, my rheumatologist retired and a new physician took over. He took a look at my treatment plan and we discussed it, it wasn't working for me. The Methotrexate was keeping my inflammation down but the infusions were doing nothing but making me sick and making me lose my hair. So we decided to stop the infusions. As we were having this discussion, he saw the way I was sitting on the exam table and noticed my elbows were hyperextended. So he performed what is called the Beighton Scale in his office, which is the diagnostic criteria for EDS. And I tested high, so he referred me to the Genetics Dept in Brigham and Womens Hospital in Boston, where I would later be diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, hypermobile type. The doctor ordered genetic testing, which ultimately showed an abnormal gene "of unknown significance" on my COL5A1 gene, a gene that is connected to classical-type EDS. So I currently have a definitive diagnosis of hypermobile with a tentative diagnosis of classical. The difference is small - classical has more skin involvement and more proneness to comorbidities.

After my diagnosis, it started a whirlwind of health crises. In 2019 I had a flare-up of a new condition called Gastroparesis. I woke up one night with severe nausea and from that point forward I couldn't eat anything. I would get full after a couple of bites, and anything I did eat mostly came back up. I dropped 25lbs in 2 months and was surviving on a liquid diet. I had to see a Gastroenterologist and completely change my whole diet around so that I could get my nutrients without fouling up my digestive system. I had to go on a low fiber, low fat, low residue diet - no fibrous vegetables, can't eat bananas unless they're completely ripe, no more medium rare meats, the list goes on. Eventually I did "recover," but my diet is still very restricted and I've had to meet with a nutritionist multiple times. I had to have a gastric emptying study which showed my stomach as 60% full after 4 hours, leading to my diagnosis.

After dealing with that, I began to have problems with my blood pressure and heart rate. With positional changes I would get dizzy, I would get "episodes" where I would suddenly start to sweat and get fuzzy and would have to strip down to the minimum clothing or sit in front of a fan, and pretty much sit right where I was standing to avoid passing out. After seeing a cardiologist and having several cardiac tests done, I had autonomic function testing done in Burlington MA which included a tilt table test among other things, and I was ultimately diagnosed with Dysautonomia, a dysfunction of the autonomic nervous system, potentially related to the Gastroparesis. Vagus nerve damage can cause issues such as slow stomach motility and autonomic nervous system problems. I've never had my vagus nerve checked specifically, but the doctors are assuming that this is the problem.

Over the last couple of years I have had 3 major joint stabilization surgeries including my shoulder, my hip, and my knee respectively. I was lucky enough to find an orthopedic surgeon who is a unicorn in his profession - knowledgeable about EDS, a damn good surgeon, and incredibly kind. And we determined that it's likely I'm having all of the ligament problems because of the progesterone birth control I am on, which can loosen ligaments (something I do not need). So in April I will be getting permanently sterilized so that I can come off of that birth control.

As of right now, my health is pretty stable. I finally got my heart rate issues under control with a new medication and I don't have any joints that are in need of surgical stabilization. My mental health is stable and I'm overall in a very good place. But it took a long time to get here, and sadly I grieve the life I once had. It's hard to look back when I had endless energy and know that I simply don't have that anymore - it's all I can do to make it through the work week and still have the energy to do anything at all on the weekends. This coming from someone who used to work double shifts as a nurse (that's a whole other story) on a busy rehab unit - I simply could not do that anymore.

So that's my story of how I ended up where I am. It's a paraphrased story, there's obviously a lot more to it and I'm sure I will get to it at some point. I hope to use this platform to let other people with EDS know that they are not alone.

[kishimotomasashi]

What's always gotten to me the most about Hashirama and Madara's relationship (and their tragedy as individual characters) is how the fact that they're both so monstrously powerful fits into it.

Like, in a world where people are living weapons and your worth is determined by how well you function as one, the position of "most powerful out of all these weapons" is one that's out of their hands by default: their existence is instrumentalized politically and for their immediate mission work, so they're caught in this feedback loop of being considered the most exceptional people who have ever lived for as long as the shinobi world still runs on war trade. It's a position that Madara ends up giving into and identifying with fully, while Hashirama wants to act like he can shake (some of) it off even though the success of his endeavours rely on him playing into it.

The most immediate consequence of this is that they've always been put up against one another, in battle, because literally no one else was matching them. Whether or not they'd already met as kids they were always eventually going to meet, and always frequently, because the war between their clans would have required it. Violence between them is and was an inevitable aspect of the fact that Hashirama and Madara even exist.

Which hurts when you think about how they actually met, because they did so in circumstances where it felt to them like none of that needed to matter! They were never rivals for its own sake, they were friends with the same wish for a better life and a better future, but their rosy little bubble of dreams couldn't withstand the pressure of the present world they lived in, where the violence ran far too deep both in its structures and in how they understood their place in it. At the end of the day, battling against one another had consistently always been the one real thing they could ever with each other.

Bit of a tragic irony: the violence is what separates them, but is also what keeps them bound together. They're both aware of this, Madara in a way more resigned, Hashirama having tried his very hardest to make it otherwise until he realized he just couldn't bridge the gap. Maybe somewhere and somehow they could have actually made it, but with just how fixed all in the world felt to them, it's easy to see why they never managed to make the choices that would ensure it.