#the days of political discourse here are OVER

[kyouka-supremacy]

%

[koheletgirl]

two things can be true at the same time. for instance:

i don't think you should praise a girl for saying "we'll slaughter you and you'll say that what hitler did to you was a joke."

i also don't think she should get arrested for an instagram story.

[swordsonnet]

it's really ironic to see people say "fandom isn't activism and watching tv shows doesn't make you an ally" (which is true!) only to in the same breath act like someone watching a "problematic" show is doing immense harm to marginalised people. the point is that fandom discourse cannot and should not be a replacement for meaningful engagement in real-life politics/activism, not to endlessly debate whether or not consuming a particular piece of media makes you a good person

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

And it’s coming over you like its all a big mistake

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

OMG I have an idea

What if a villain hit reader with a love potion and the Yandere JL has to deal with reader being obsessed with one of them until it wears off🙏🙏😭(I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR YAN JL WORKDGHBJB)

A Day in Life: Love Pollen

Synopsis: A day in your life where you get hit with love pollen, get kidnapped, and are rescued by the Justice League.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+; PDA; Dry humping; Kinda public sex bc they're in a deserted island’s beach, so it's basically out in the open but no one’s around; Dubcon/noncon bc, you know, love-and-kinda-sex pollen; Also maybe drugging bc of that; Writer is the Justice League's weakness; Hal Jordan is a little shit; Needles; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,1k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I imagine the League’s marketing will have a hard time after this little stunt, I mean, there's no way no one caught that on camera

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The Legion of Doom had a plan. They invaded a political event in Metropolis, with the presence of the Justice League as the president’s security team, the League being the target. First, Poison Ivy release pollen throughout the whole city, as a distraction, making people hallucinate that they were in love with one another. Crazy in love. It would be okay, if her experiment didn't cause chaos. All over the streets, some people were having sex out in the open, some were fighting and killing because of jealousy and cheating, some were committing robberies to give their “loved ones”. It was pure chaos and only the quick reflexes, powers and gadgets from the League spared the team from getting hit.

Half the team went to deal with the distraction, saving and restraining people, giving them the antidote, etc. The other half, took care of the villains. After a few hours, the Legion of Doom was taken down and the city’s security and health workers took over the job, the chaos being a lot easier to contain since they were spreading the antidote through the air, it would take at least an hour to spread it throughout the whole city, and then the ones who somehow weren't able to breath it, but mostly, just the mess left behind was the real issue.

You were standing with the rest of the crew on the event, watching the League and the politicians discoursing for the press and TV. When the mayhem started, for the first few seconds, you got startled and froze. Looking between the League, the scared crowd, and the villains invading the place. Suddenly, you breathed some thick smoke and your eyes shot to the heroes, silently urging them to do something, when your eyes locked on Green Lantern’s, the pollen’s effect kicked in. You got dizzy, something snapped, and then everything changed.

Wait, when did Green Lantern's jaw got so sharp? And his muscles so defined? Oh, and he was so big and tall. Did he do something to his hair? Wow, his ring is glowing now and he's flying. He's so cool and powerful. A true hero. Shit, he's coming in my direction. Hehe, he's using a construct to lift me and my coworkers to a safer place as if it was nothing. Imagine flying with him every day. How does he look without the mask? Ugh, must be perfect, if his jaw and lips were anything to go by. I can't even see the color of his eyes! And- and please stop looking me in the eyes and touching my shoulders and asking me if I'm okay, of course I am, I'm with you. No. Nooo. Come back here! Let the others deal with the bad guys, I'm right hereee! Nooooo!

You were depressed and deflated the whole time your soulmate was away. A journalist team from outside the city arrived at some point and you were able to watch the fight — Normally, Lois Lane would do the transmission, but she's too busy making out with her cameraman, she was in the crowd too. —. You started crying watching your lover fighting with Sinestro. When he won, and everything was fine, was when you finally calmed down and just started anxiously waiting while ignoring your colleagues strange antics, one of them even hitting on you. Didn't she know you and Green Lantern were in love?

When the League was back, the paramedics were starting to give the crew the antidote, you were next in line, however, as soon as you saw the heroes, you broke into a sprint.

— Green! — You yelled, catching everyone off guard. Even more so when you jumped and hooked your legs around the brunette’s waist, your arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately.

Hal was so shocked that it took him two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, ignoring completely the gasps from his friends. You moaned against his lips, mumbling a jumbled mess of “I love you”, “I missed you”, “was so worried”, “so glad you're back”.

Someone groaned.

— Batman, just give them that damn antidote before I lose it. — Batman grunted and Hal struggled but managed to separate your faces for a moment. You tried to push your face towards his again, but he grabbed your jaw. You kept forcing your face against his hand and whining. It was really cute, and your willingness and the previous sensation of your lips ignited something in his belly, yet, he looked to the side just in time to see Batman preparing the needle, the rest of the League sulking on the side and glaring at him.

His mind worked rapidly, ignoring the texture of your soft lips pampering kisses against the skin of his hand. When he felt the tip of your tongue, he made a decision.

A bad one.

— Yeah. I don't think so. — Green Lantern conjured several chain constructs, chaining the League's arms and ankles to the ground. It wouldn't hold off the ones like Superman and Wonder Woman who were strong enough to break it, and Martian Manhunter who could just invade his mind or use his intangibility, Flash was also pretty capable of taking him on, but Hal was smart and sagacious. Still holding you, he made a rocket construct around you both and took off.

Really, a terrible idea.

Superman and Wonder Woman, in a cry of rage, broke the chains. Diana unsheathed her sword, her feet not even touching the ground anymore, flying, ready to go after the traitor. Martian passed through the construct, while Superman went to break Batman and Aquaman free, Flash vibrated fast to rearrange his particles and also escaped.

— We need a plan. — Batman’s voice stopped the amazon warrior from going in a hunt for blood. He was already stressing over what the marketing team could do to fix this.

— A plan? We can defeat the enemy and retreat my darling if we go now! — Wonder Woman barked.

— Green Lantern is impulsive. If we go now we can destroy the whole state and hurt (Y/N) in the process. He won't give them up easily.

— Batman's right. — Superman agreeds. — Flash, follow them and see where they’re going. — The speedster nodded and took off.

Barry shook his head, cursing his idiot best friend the whole way.

Between the whole team, Hal was clearly the only one who would be okay with you falsely loving them. The rest wanted something more genuine for you. Some of them would settle for you not loving them as much as they loved you, some wanted you to feel exactly the same amount of what they felt. Hal still loved you just like them, but he always had that certain level of insecurity that craved to be better than anyone, to impress, making everything a competition, and the sensation of being the only one to have you could certainly cloud his judgment and accept your love, even if fake. He just thought he could compensate by treating you the right way, and not just using that opportunity to do whatever he wanted with you, just because he could and you wouldn't complain. He could make this about you both, and not just about him.

Either way, every one of them (thought) they deserved their fair chance at winning you over.

— Manhunter, can you still read his mind and tell what he is thinking? — Manhunter nodded and his eyes started glowing, there was a second of silence before he spoke.

— It's getting weaker as he gets more distant. It's purely impulsive thinking. Green Lantern isn't considering the consequences and means no harm against Earth or us. — Batman nodds.

— That's a shame. I mean harm. — Wonder Woman mutters, Batman glared and Superman side-eyed her. Batman turned his communication on.

— Flash, tell us when they stop moving.

— If he touches them, I will personally kill him. — Aquaman darkly states. Superman took a step in his direction, facing him head on.

— No, you won't. — The two stared at one another intently, until Batman broke the silence.

— Focus. We don't have time for this. — The dark knight stated.

— We need to be collected and work as a team to act smoothly on our plan. — Martian reminds them. Wonder Woman steps down again and sheats her sword. They all form a circle and start planning.

The sky was never this blue and the sand never this warm and soft. Even with the warmth of the sun being so intense, you were laying on a palm tree's shadow, and the air was flowing just fine. What was actually making you sweat was the dry humping you and your soulmate were doing.

You don't remember ever getting so aroused in your whole life, and can't remember ever desiring someone so much. You could kill someone if they dared to try and steal him away from you.

Hal felt you carding your fingers through his hair and pull slightly, giving him shiver, and he squeezed the flesh of your hips. You moaned against his lips at a particularly stronger wave of pleasure. The clothes were a curse, stopping you from feeling the real him, so you desperately started clawing at his clothes. Green Lantern breathily chuckled.

— Relax, hot stuff, we have time… — He whispers with a smirk. The man held your hands and laid them on the ground, above your head. You just moaned, more needy, and pushed your hips against his, eliciting a hiss from his red and swollen lips.

His hands started unbottoning your shirt and freeing the fabric out of your pants. You kept your hands were they were and watched, eyes wide open, when he descended kisses from the middle of your chest, going south, only pausing at your waistband.

As much as you wanted to feel his mouth more, seeing him so covered and not being able to properly touch him was making you restless, so you sat up, surprising him, and started pulling up the fabric at the back of his neck. Hal chuckled and shook his head, humoring your needs. He helped you take it off, then pushed your own shirt down your arms, until it was off.

You paused, admiring his adonis body. Your heart raced and eyes watered, never having seen something so perfect your whole life. Even his scars were beautiful. His chest hair and happy trail looked really soft and somehow he looked even more muscled, strong and beautiful. You wonder why you rejected him before.

Hal Jordan basked in your amazed gaze, loving to show off, especially while doing nothing. He frowned weakly, and gave a reassuring grin when you pouted, slumped and frowned.

— What's this, sweetheart? I thought you were enjoying this. — To lift your mood, he started running his hands up and down your sides.

— I wanted to see your face… — Hal remained silent for a few seconds. They would tell you their identities eventually, and that fact kept being brought up on reunions. They all knew at some point, you would have to know, to really start a relationship, yet, Batman, and his paranoia, kept them all from telling you. Sometimes, it felt like a sabotage, but mostly, it made sense, since the guy had a bunch of kids, who could be in danger if the information somehow got leaked, still, you couldn't trust to let them in, if they didn't let you in. That was the only reason you didn't trust them, of course.

Also, a face was not a name. Hal wasn't famous, so how bad could it be? Especially if it would turn you on so much, and when you looked so damn cute. His own lust was also influencing his critical thinking, which was already second place to his impulsiveness.

Hal bit his lower lip and brought his face closer to yours, a few centimeters away from having your noses touching.

— Okay… Take it off… — You let out a happy squeal and reached up with both hands. Your heart pounded with anticipation, making you go slower to savor the intimacy even more. Hal closed his eyes when he felt the gentle tug, against his wishes to watch your eagerness and your lip biting in anticipation. His heart was also pounding.

You saw his right eye closed and his thick eyebrow, when suddenly, a loud noise rang out, scaring the shit out of you and prompting Hal to fix the mask again, get up and assess for danger.

He finally fell to his senses and realized something.

He just took the worst decisions ever.

Everything happened too fast. Flash was on your side, holding a needle to your arm, and Green Lantern was being thrown around by a red and blue blur. Only the feminine rageful scream gave you the hint to who it was.

You got up, ready to die for your soulmate, when the antidote kicked in.

You threw up.

Comment, like and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant

[qqueenofhades]

How do we not give into dooming because I mean, the media circus is not letting up on this. It feels like it's going to be the new 'emails' and the prospect of fascist america seems more and more inevitable by the day. Is every election going to be like this?

Look, I don't want to get drawn back into the Politics Discourse because I really only can take a tiny bit of it at a time right now, but once again: IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED.

Fascist ideas are not popular. Polls are bullshit garbage and were off by an average of 6 points in 2022 (remember the endless, ENDLESS weeks of RED WAVE COMING media coverage and then.... literally squat? The media cannot will something into existence just by talking about it over and over, no matter how much they try). Please do not allow polls alone to shape your understanding of the election, especially when Democrats have wildly overperformed and Trump has wildly underperformed in every competitive election since 2016.

We just had it all but inevitable that France was going to turn fascist/elect the National Rally fascist party to a majority in parliament, and instead the leftists banded together and kept them the fuck out (because fulminating about Revolution!!! online never works, but voting sure as fuck does). That did not happen. It is not inevitable here either. I am shit fucking terrified too and today was a real bad mental health day, BUT IT IS NOT INEVITABLE. Do not give up ahead of time. Do not think the media and/or polls can create the reality they want just by being extremely loud and repetitive about it. Do something. Give money. Sign up to volunteer. Check out my resources post for helping the Democrats. And repeat after me:

IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. Even if Trump did win the election, god fucking forbid, America would not be fascist instantly overnight. People would and will fight back. He would have a really hard time actually cancelling or openly rigging elections and/or using dictatorial powers, no matter how much he would want to try. Take a deep breath. Log off social media. Repeat after me:

IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. And there is never, ever, a moment where we can never do anything at all or where everything will just Happen to us without us having the opportunity to resist (and win). We just have to make the choice to do so.

That's all I got for now. Hang in there.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Houston [3/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Things are shifting in just the ten days since realigning the campaign strategy to keep you and Steve on the trail together and to sharpen some of the policies and messaging. You're starting to hit a new stride as you make a stop in Houston, and the city also affords you a unique opportunity to meet with a former President and First Lady.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn, brief political discussion of climate change

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

POLITICAL NOTES: It's been a big week with the 2024 election. This story - while a romance - revolves around a presidential campaign, and so there will be political policy incorporated, but I am not inviting political discourse. If you don't agree in regards to anything in the brief section climate change policy, that is okay but I do not want to hear about it.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[SEPTEMBER 17 - Houston]

The Houston heat hits you like a wall as you step off the campaign bus, the air thick and heavy with humidity. You blink against the bright Texas sun, grateful for the large sunglasses shielding your eyes. The crowd gathered outside the community center is already substantial, a sea of red, white, and blue signs waving in the afternoon heat.

Steve steps off the bus behind you, and you feel his presence at your back, solid and reassuring. You turn to him, offering a smile that's part genuine, part for the cameras you know are capturing your every move. He returns it, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back - a gesture that's become second nature for public appearances, yet still sends a confusing whoosh through your stomach each time. But you push through and ignore it as you both wave to the cheering crowd.

"Ready?" he asks, leaning in close enough so you can hear over all the noise.

You nod, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

The two of you make your way along the line of the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging greetings as you go. You've gotten better at this part over the months - the constant smiling, the brief but warm interactions, the way to make each person feel seen and heard in just a few seconds. Steve, of course, is a natural at it, his charisma and sincerity shining through with every handshake and small bit of conversation.

As you near the entrance to the community center, you spot a group of young people holding signs about climate change and renewable energy. Your eyes meet Steve's, and you see the same thought reflected there - these are exactly the voters you've been trying to reach.

Without missing a beat, you veer slightly off course, heading towards the group. Steve follows your lead, and you can practically feel the collective intake of breath from your security detail.

"Hi there," you say warmly as you approach. "Thank you, we’re so glad you came out today.”

"Thank you for being here," Steve adds, his voice warm and genuine. "I see you're passionate about climate change. That's something I care deeply about, too."

A young woman with curly hair and bright eyes steps forward. "We appreciate that, but we've heard a lot of politician talk before. What specific actions will you take to address the climate crisis if elected?"

You exchange a quick glance with Steve, impressed by the young woman's directness. This is exactly the kind of engagement you've been hoping for.

"That's an excellent question," you begin, "and I'm glad you're asking it. Steve has developed a comprehensive plan to tackle climate change, including immediate steps he'll take in the first 100 days."

Steve nods, picking up where you left off. "We're committed to a systemic overhaul of energy sources and infrastructure along with transitions and expansion for public transportation. We know that infrastructure is an opportunity - not only to address climate change, but to transform the economy by creating job opportunities as we build and transition away from coal, gas, and oil. It will also address the severe need to update existing power grids that are failing.

"But it's not just about policy and output right now," Steve continues, his voice passionate. "It's about creating a sustainable future for your generation and those that follow instead of just talking about it. But as we talk, we want to work with young leaders like yourselves to make sure your voices are heard in shaping these policies - you’ll be living with them longer than the rest of us."

You watch as the young woman's expression shifts from skepticism to cautious interest. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?" she asks.

"Well, for starters, we're here listening to you right now," you say with a smile. "But Steve plans to create a Youth Climate Council that will have direct input on policy decisions. We want to bring fresh perspectives and innovative ideas to the table."

Steve nods in agreement. "And we're not just talking about advisory roles. We want to create pathways for young people to enter public service and take on leadership positions in environmental agencies."

The group exchanges glances, clearly impressed by the specifics and taking Steve more seriously for not brushing them off or placating them quickly in a picket line.

Steve presses further, "What specific actions do you think are most critical? What solutions have you seen proposed that resonate with you?"

The young woman looks slightly taken aback, clearly not expecting to be asked for her input. But she recovers quickly. "Well, you mentioned it, but we need to transition away from fossil fuels much faster than current plans allow. The movement for offshore wind farms should be accelerated - especially on the East Coast. And we need to protect vulnerable communities who will be hit hardest by climate change."

Steve nods encouragingly. "Those are excellent points. In fact, environmental justice is a key component of our climate plan. We're proposing initiatives to ensure clean air and water in all communities, especially those that have historically borne the brunt of pollution."

Another young man in the group speaks up. "What about jobs? My dad works in the oil industry. He's worried about losing his livelihood if we move too quickly on clean energy."

Steve turns to him, his expression thoughtful. "That's a valid concern, and it's one we take very seriously. We're not looking to leave anyone behind in this transition. Our plan includes a comprehensive job retraining program for workers in fossil fuel industries. We want to create new opportunities in clean energy sectors, so people like your dad can be part of building a sustainable future without sacrificing their livelihoods."

You nod, adding, "We're looking at ways to incentivize companies to retool their existing facilities for clean energy production. It's not just about creating new jobs, but also about transforming existing ones."

The young man seems to consider this, nodding slowly. "That sounds... promising. I'd like to learn more about that."

Sophia and Bucky begin to press in, signaling that you need to move along to get into the actual event.

"We're limited for time here, but we’d be eager to discuss more details," you say, reaching into your bag and pulling out a business card. "Here's my contact information. Please reach out soon, I mean it.”

You and Steve then get ushered inside, hand in hand.

Later that night, you get a rare opportunity, and one you’ve been excited but also nervous for since it landed on your schedule the week before.

Former President and First Lady Matt and Helen Santos have invited you to their Houston home for dinner and drinks. It’s not a public appearance, so that takes some of the pressure off, but you're still acutely aware of the significance of this meeting. The Santos administration remains widely regarded as one of the most successful in recent history, and their endorsement - even an implicit one - could be a game-changer for the campaign.

Beyond that it's a chance to learn from a couple who've been through the crucible of a presidential campaign and life in the White House.

Helen Santos greets you at the door, her warm smile immediately putting you at ease. "Come in! We're so glad you could make it," she says, ushering you inside.

The interior of the home is tastefully decorated, a blend of modern and traditional styles that feels both impressive and comfortable. You spot several family photos on the walls, reminders that despite their status, the Santos family is just that - a family.

Matt Santos appears from what you assume is the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Welcome, you two," he says, shaking Steve's hand and giving you a brief hug. "I hope you’re hungry! It’s humble, but I’m putting the finishing touches on my chili."

“Don’t let him fool you,” Helen says, “he’s anything but humble about it.”

“Sorry, did I forget to mention the recipe won a blue ribbon before I got into politics? Because it did, so it wasn’t a biased award,” he clarifies.

You all laugh, and the warmth and welcome these two generate in those first few minutes is remarkable, and something that truly soothes your heart in ways you didn’t know you were hungry for.

As you settle into the Santos' comfortable living room, Helen offers drinks. You accept a glass of wine, grateful for something to occupy your hands. Steve opts for water, ever the responsible candidate.

"So," Matt says, leaning back in his armchair, "how's the campaign trail treating you? I remember those days - exhilarating and exhausting in equal measure."

Steve nods, a wry smile on his face. "That's an apt description. It's been... intense. But rewarding."

"And how are you two holding up as a couple?" Helen asks, her eyes kind but perceptive. "The campaign trail can be brutal, especially on a relationship."

You glance at Steve, unsure how to answer. Your relationship is still mostly for show, but you've grown closer over the past few weeks. Before you can formulate a response, Steve speaks up.

"It's been an adjustment," he says diplomatically. "But we're figuring it out."

Matt nods knowingly. "Helen and I had been married for years before we ran, and it was still a challenge. I can't imagine doing it as newlyweds."

You smile, trying to hide your discomfort. "It's certainly been a unique experience," you say, opting for honesty. "We're learning a lot about each other very quickly."

Helen leans forward, her expression sympathetic. "I'm sure it's overwhelming at times. The scrutiny, the constant demands on your time and energy. It can be a lot to handle, especially when you're still getting to know each other."

You nod, feeling a wave of relief at her understanding. "It is overwhelming," you admit. "But it's exciting, in its own way. We're building something together, not just as a couple but for the country."

Steve reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The gesture surprises you, but you try not to let it show. "She's been incredible," he says, his voice warm. "I couldn't ask for a better partner in this.”

Helen regards you both, her expression warm but serious. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, pulling out my First Lady moment already, but I've been watching you two. Not just tonight, but throughout the campaign. There's something there, between you. A spark, a connection. Don't lose that in all the craziness of the campaign."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly, caught off guard by Helen's perceptiveness. You wonder if she’s speaking in general or if she suspects yours is a politically arranged marriage. You glance at Steve, who looks equally surprised.

Matt chimes in, "Helen's right. The campaign is important, but at the end of the day, it's your relationship that will sustain you through the challenges ahead. Trust me, if you make it to the White House, you'll need each other more than ever."

Steve nods, his expression thoughtful. "We appreciate the advice. It's not easy to find that balance."

You squeeze Steve's hand, grateful for his honesty. "We're working on it," you add softly.

He pulls your hand casually into his lap and envelops it in both of his. You can't help but feel a small thrill at the contact, the very normal expression of intimacy that speaks of a more comfortable and normal connection, and you love the way his large hands hold yours. This feels like something that could be real, on more days than this.

Helen smiles warmly. "That's all anyone can ask. Now, who's ready for some of Matt's famous chili?"

As you move to the dining room, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. The Santos' warmth and wisdom have touched something deep within you, reminding you of the very real human element at the heart of this political whirlwind.

Over dinner, the conversation flows easily, touching on everything from campaign strategies to favorite books. You find yourself relaxing, laughing at Matt's stories from his time in office and Helen's witty comebacks.

As the evening winds down, Helen pulls you aside while the men are engrossed in a discussion about foreign policy.

"Can I give you some advice?" Helen asks softly, her eyes kind but serious.

You nod eagerly, grateful to glean even more guidance from someone who's walked this path before.

Helen takes a deep breath. "The hardest part of being First Lady isn't the public scrutiny or the demanding schedule. It's maintaining your sense of self in the midst of it all. Don't lose yourself in the role, in the campaign, or even in your marriage. Remember who you are and what you bring to the table."

You feel a lump form in your throat, touched by Helen's words and the understanding behind them. "Thank you," you manage to say. "I... I'm trying to find that balance."

Helen smiles warmly. "I can see that. And from what I've observed, you're doing a remarkable job. But it's a constant effort, believe me."

You nod, absorbing her words. "How did you do it? Maintain your identity while supporting him and taking on such a public role?"

Helen's eyes grow distant for a moment, as if recalling a memory. "It was hard," she admits. "There were times I felt lost, like I was just an extension of Matt's presidency rather than my own person. I learned to carve out spaces for myself - my own initiatives, my own passions. And most importantly, I made sure Matt and I had time just for us, away from the politics and the pressures."

You feel a pang in your chest at her words. You and Steve barely have time alone, let alone time to just be yourselves without the weight of the campaign.

Helen smiles warmly. "This journey you're on - whether or not he gets elected - it's meant to be shared."

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Sometimes I feel like I'm still getting to know him, even as we're presenting this united front to the world."

Helen's expression softens with understanding. "That's not uncommon, especially given your unique circumstances. But I see the way he looks at you when you're not watching. There's admiration there, and something deeper. A lot of people in this country get married, but not every married couple has that for each other, and even some of the ones who do don’t realize the treasure they have. Don't be afraid to explore it. Grow it together."

Your heart skips a beat at her words. Could she be right? You think back to the conversation you overheard back in that hotel conference room in Cleveland, Steve's hesitation, his fear of letting you in. But also his words of praise, the gentle touches that have become more frequent lately. Could there be more there than just a political partnership?

Before you can respond, the men rejoin you, Steve taking his place beside you, and his hand comes to rest gently on your lower back. "Ready to head out?" he asks softly. "We've got an early start tomorrow."

You nod, and the four of you initiate your goodbyes.

“Thank you," you say, turning back to Helen, hoping she understands the depth of your gratitude. "For everything."

She pulls you into a warm hug. "Any time," she says. "And I mean that. Call me if you ever need to talk, about anything."

You and Steve finish your goodbyes and make your way to the waiting car. The evening has given you much to think about, not just about the campaign, but about your relationship with Steve.

The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but you realize it’s a comfortable silence.

Arriving at that night’s hotel, the silence lingers all the way until you enter the elevator, Steve turns to you, his expression thoughtful. "That was enlightening," he says softly.

You nod, feeling a mix of emotions - gratitude for the Santos' wisdom, hope for what could be, and a lingering uncertainty about where you and Steve stand. "They're incredible people," you reply. "So generous with their time and wisdom."

Steve hums in agreement. The elevator doors open, and you two head down the hallway to your suites, right across the hall from each other.

Normally, this is where you'd say goodnight and go your separate ways - Steve to his room, you to yours. But you hesitate, because tonight feels different.

"Helen gave me some really good advice," you say.

Steve looks at you intently, his blue eyes searching yours. "Oh? What about?"

"About maintaining my sense of self through all of this. And... about us."

"What did she say about us?" Steve asks.

You hesitate, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "She said... she sees the strong connection between us, and that we shouldn't lose sight of it in the chaos of the campaign."

Steve's expression softens, a mix of surprise and something else you can't quite read. He takes a step closer to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"And what do you think?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

Your heart races as you look up at him. "Steve, I..." you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

He reaches out, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. "I know," he says softly. "I've been... distant. Guarded. And I'm sorry for that."

The truth is, you know you’ve been guarded, too. And you’re not sure you’re ready to risk anything with exploring more. Not only do you both need to be focused for the campaign, but you locked your heart in a box, and you don’t know if opening it will be a mess that you can face right now.

But you do think there’s a possibility you could have more connection without risking messy feelings.

So you ask, “We’re building a good partnership in this, aren’t we?”

"We are," Steve agrees, his voice warm. "You've been incredible through all of this. I meant what I told the Santos’s - I couldn't ask for a better partner."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words, but you push it aside. "I was thinking," you say carefully, "maybe we could try to spend a little more time together. Not more campaign events or strategy meetings, but... just us. Getting to know each other better."

Steve's expression softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that," he says quietly. "I think we could both use a friend who’s also in the eye of the storm of all of this."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervous anticipation. He has Sam and Bucky on this campaign trail with him, but their roles are not the same, not giving speeches or being asked for comments.

"Maybe we could start with a meal a day? Just the two of us, no campaign staff or memos or prep."

"It's a date," Steve says. Then quickly adds, "I mean, not a date-date, but... you know what I mean."

You can't help but give a small laugh at Steve's flustered correction. It's endearing to see this side of him - the man behind the polished candidate facade.

"I know what you mean," you assure him with a warm smile.

Steve nods, looking relieved. "Good. That's... good." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "How about breakfast tomorrow? We have that early flight, but we could grab something quick before we head to the airport."

"Sounds perfect," you agree. "I'll meet you in the lobby at 6?"

"It's a plan," Steve says, his smile reaching his eyes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

You both linger for a moment, neither seeming eager to end the conversation. His eyes are so blue, and when you're this close, and he just looks at you like that, your chest tightens in a pleasantly uncomfortable way that you're not ready for but can't pull away from.

Thankfully, Steve clears his throat. "Well, I guess we should get some sleep," he says, taking a step back. "Big day again tomorrow."

You nod, feeling a mix of disappointment and anticipation. "Always. Goodnight, Steve."

"Goodnight," he replies softly.

You unlock your hotel room door and step inside, your mind racing with thoughts of the evening - the Santos' advice, your conversation with Steve, and the promise of breakfast tomorrow. As you get ready for bed, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope for what's to come, both for the campaign and for your relationship with Steve.

next part: Fort Wayne, Toledo, Detroit

SURPRISE CAMEO FROM THE WEST WING! If you're not a fan of the show, I didn't think it would be a problem - they're just a former Presidential couple. But if you ARE, then I hope you liked seeing them! I'm deep into my every-few-years (every four) rewatch and haven't bumped into them yet, but I'm about to...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[comradecorvus]

A confused Tumblr user's guide to r/196

In the coming weeks, many of you may notice posts containing the tags "r/196" and "196", so to avoid any confusion, I would like to explain what it is, what is going on, etc.

r/196 is a subreddit that can best be described as "condensed tumblr but a tiny bit more horny". Honestly, half of the posts are just tumblr screenshots. So the general vibe, sense of humor, and political slant are the same as Tumblr's.

As for why its all suddenly crossing over here, Reddit's dipshit CEO has been going after third party reddit viewer apps that are better than the official app for no reason at all, even going as far as to lie about one of the third party apps' developers threatening him. He is planning to put reddit API access behind a paywall at a pretty steep fee. Apparently for some of them it would run them like $20 million a year, which obviously, no third party app dev will be able to afford.

In protest, thousands of subreddits are planning to stage a blackout on June 12th, many of them some of the most popular subreddits on the site, and countless others. Such blackouts and mass protests have worked before, and as such, most subreddits plan on doing just a 2 day blackout where nothing can be done on the subreddits, which completely destroys any ad revenue and other such financial activity.

However, many are coming to realize that a mere 48 hours might not cut it, and some plan to go on hiatus indefinitely until the ceo backs down on his bullshit.

r/196 is one of those subreddits, I myself realize that this has the chance of resulting in no impact on the outcome and a dead subreddit, but its a gamble worth taking, in my opinion.

This is just a general primer on r/196, if you want to get into deep lore like "Spronkus" and the "Wasp Discourse", seek out someone who is more seasoned in the subreddit's history than I am.

[mollbabyy]

celebrating palestinian science

in the face of israels' targetting of scholars, scientists and intellectuals...

saw a tumblr post by @/anarchistfrogposting that got me heavythinking about the relevance of language and culture in chemistry and science, it's unfortunate english has been accepted as its' lingua franca and most other input is lost to the globalization of this change. formulae and structure are essential and in a subject so specific, the average chemist will need to memorize hundreds of chemistry-specific words, and it becomes a barrier past entry when direct translating gets murky. deconstructing the history of science will always lead to political waters as the politicization of science and populist anti-intellectualism ethos rooted itself since the beginning of the study and these implicit biases result in a lack of consensus amongst borders.

before wwi the geographical spread of language in science was much more diverse, a lot of french and german researchers were common in research publishing, but after the allies established new scientific institutions that excluded germans and the isolationist decades that followed suit, foreign-language education was reductionist and excised globally as a result of elitism, being a language considered spoken only 'by the educated'. english-language proficiency is undeniably a prerequisite when an inexaggerated count of 99% of natural science papers are published in english, starting since 2015. this is a /heavily/ debated and discoursed topic and is terribly intimidating to sink your teeth into because of globalization of english and the complexity of modern language but getting over this hurdle will blossom a culturally rich rabbit hole to go down and it is all super interesting. there is so much great palestinian scientific practices, not as in western scientists work imagined in palestinian hands, but palestinian-born theories and practices. i think it's really integral, to always, but especially during times like these to uplift the people of palestine and their beauty just as much as funnel hatred toward their oppressors and murderers.

==

[image ID: a lineup of various glass pots and vases, ranging in color and size, placed in front of a plain background. end]

this is a specific sort of glass called 'hebron glass' which is an extremely renowned palestinian practice and passed down traditionally through multiple families and businesses. dating back as far as the 100~s in BCE, their technique of glassblowing was far ahead of their time and not used commonly anywhere else until much further in BCE. the /exact/ practice of hebron glass is kept a family secret amongst palestinian businesses, but a metal tool called 'kammasha' is used to blow the glass. a palestinian artisan talks about the process in more length here, i would recommend doing extended reading directly from palestine:

the colors are so vibrant and beautiful, i am endlessly impressed by how elegant these pieces have been made since the middle ages. these pieces and techniques have inspired a lot of famous modern day forms of glassblowing and glass artistry, most notably the venetian glass of venice.

i include this under science as much as it is art because it often goes unseen how much temperature and calculation goes into this craft. its highly skilled and intense work to bend over the hot flames and handle the glass in such a vulnerable state that could easily shatter. the material is more than 1800F and the palestinian kammasha is very carefully timed.

==

[image ID: an online video call meeting titled 'School on Synchrotron Light Sources and their Applications' at the top. end]

what you're looking at right now is the SESAME initiative run by the international centre for theoretical physics. a famous alumnus of this school was sufyan tayeh, a palestinian scientist. he was a prominent researcher and mentor and advocate for international understanding through science, introducing: SESAME, an alternative vision for the future of peaceful coexistence and cooperation and offered a meeting point around the globe to speak the common language of science, making communication possible. sufyan tayeh was an inspiration and bridge builder for all of these young students and an entry point for future scientists. he was a winner of multiple awards for his contributions to science and was appointed chair man for UNESCO (united nations educational, scientific and cultural organization) and head of physical, astrophysical and space sciences in palestine. he was regarded as a leading researched in science and applied mathematics globally, and tragically was killed in the current genocide. this is one case of many, many palestinian researchers. the impact of their contributions are insurmountable and irreplaceable.

==

[image ID: a list documenting the 45 palestinian scholars killed by israel since october 7th: Sufian Tayeh, Mohammad Eid Shubair, Omar Ferwana, Taysir Ibrahim, Ibrahim Hamed, Naeim Baroud, Azou Afana, Mohammad Bakhit, Mahmoud Abu Daf, Salem Abu Mukhda, Mohammad Abu Asaad, Osama Al-Muzayni, Refaat Al-Areer, Wael Al-Zard, Ismail Abu Saada, Khaled Al-Ramlawi, Mohammad Al-Najjar, Saeed Al-Dahshan, Raed Qudura, Mohammad Abu Zour, Yousseff Jameh Salameh, Nidaa Afana, Moumen Shweidah, Saeed Al-Zabdeh, Saqid Nasaar, Ahmed Abu Saada, Mohammad Jameel Al-Zaaneen, Ismail Al-Ghamari, Razq Ali Arouq, Walid Al-Amoudi, Abdullah Al-Amoudi, Hassan Al-Radi, Mohammand Abu Amara, Mohammad Al-Louh, Khaled Al-Najjar, Sharif Al-Asli, Mohammad Hassouneh, Yassar Hdeib Ridwan, Jihad Al-Baz, Hazem Al-Jamali, Nasser Al-Yafaoui, and Jihad Al-Masri. end]

==

the fabric gauze was also invented in palestine. if you've ever stepped foot in a labratory, you will know what this is lol. used in surgery and in chemical labs for multiple functions: separating liquids and gases, strain acids from bases, filter substances at extreme temperatures, prevent contamination, and to treat water. it is also used to diffuse heat and help protect glassware, seriously, these guys influence in glassware was HUGE. i think glass would still be sand without palestinian input.

i've set this post just up as a basis summary of the sciences, i would love to give an add-on going more indepth into the scientific process of some examples i gave and also in the history of palestinian scholars listed above.. when i get the time! but i hope this was an apt introduction! may good things come in 2024. feel free to recommend things i should check out or correct. OH OH also there is a lot of palestinian sci-fi.. 'divine intervention' and 'the second war of the dog' are both good, iirc they won the international prize for arabic fiction. just random things i found while looking up things for this post haha but they're good

[garbageday]

By now you have, no doubt, heard all about the dangerous new TikTok trend sweeping the nation. China’s great and powerful cyber weapon has convinced the innocent teenagers of America that Osama bin Laden was actually a pretty cool guy and now they’re all sharing his 2002 “Letter To America”. Well, first, just to get it out of the way, Osama bin Laden was actually bad. Also, a nepo baby.

After spending most of yesterday digging into this, I’m pretty convinced that this was never a real thing on TikTok. Even though it has since snowballed into a full on moral panic that is beginning to feel dangerously unstable. The Biden administration released a statement about the supposed trend and alarmed big-name creators and actors also reportedly met with TikTok this week to discuss the rise of antisemitism on the app.

Baseless generational in-fighting, aging millennials who refuse to accept the new status quo of the internet, easily monetizable rage bait, lazy TikTok trend reporting, and bad faith political actors swirled together to create a perfect storm this week.

The story has morphed from what should have been a weird curiosity — and perhaps even a moment to reflect on America’s post-9/11 legacy — into a full-blown national scandal with dumb-dumb headlines getting written about it, like CNN’s “Some young Americans on TikTok say they sympathize with Osama bin Laden”. I mean, I haven’t even had time in this piece to point out that a lot of the people I saw sharing the letter were millennials! But, yeah, teens fucking love Bin Laden. They’re saying 9/11 just hits different now no cap fr. Gen Z wants Baby Gronk to lead Al-Qaeda in a victorious jihad against the western imperialist hegemony gyatt!!

We have invented a version of TikTok that simply does not exist and now many people in power are ready to tear apart the foundation of internet to prove it does. And what’s worse here is that there are very real issues with how TikTok works. It is a major source of misinfo and disinfo. It still has a terrible bullying problem. And, ironically enough, it’s also one of the most oppressively censorious social platforms that has ever existed. To the point users had to create a puritanical version of leet speak to communicate on it. But we can’t even begin to address those issues unless we start to look clear-eyed at what is actually happening on the app. And it is most certainly not the digital hub of a large-scale Gen Z Bin Laden fandom. Be fucking serious.

The internet is an extremely chaotic living ecosystem and it’s constantly reacting to itself and all you accomplish by amplifying something like this is give more ammo to those who want to who want to take that away. You turn bizarre discourse into something bigger than it was ever meant to be. You pointlessly villainize normal people who aren’t public figures and don’t deserve this kind of scrutiny. And you help conservative political movements continue their culture war. You also just look like clueless boomer to anyone even slightly younger than you.

[Read more over on Garbage Day]

[genericpuff]

Pretty much recovered, still got a bit of congestion and an on-and-off cough but well enough to be back in working order. Wish I could say everything else is on the upswing but uh... nah, the state of everything going on right now is undeniably garbage.

But we press on. We must.

To all my American friends and viewers, please, hang in there. Keep fighting. Despair is a deep and dark pit to fall into, and incredibly hard to crawl out the deeper you fall, but there are others all around you making the climb and offering you helping hands. You just have to keep climbing. What you're climbing towards can be as grand as seeing the fall of this new legislation, or as small as watching the third Sonic movie when it comes out. Whatever it is, keep it in your sights, and keep pressing forward.

I don't normally share much in terms of politics around here as I personally like to keep a space that's free of political discourse for the sake of viewers who are looking for an escape from the nightmares of the real world. That said, I'll be reblogging some great posts over the next few days that sum up better than I ever could the steps you can be taking both to protect yourself and to fight back. I hope they can give you knowledge and confidence in the journey ahead.

This isn't the first time America's found itself in the grips of white supremacy and fascism, and it's not going to be the last - the cost of freedom is constant vigilance.

If you're reading this in the swarm of posts amidst the doomscrolling - please, give yourself the grace to protect your peace. Yes, many will call it a privilege to be able to just 'log off' and not look at the news, and to an extent, I agree with the sentiment of that statement; it is still something you should do if you have the opportunity to do so. The 24 hour news cycle is designed to wear us down, make us feel helpless, give us the sense that the world is "over" when it still exists all around us and can still be saved - we can't fight this fight if we're burnt out and miserable, and that's by design.

So please, take care of yourself. Resist the urge to doomscroll. Don't allow yourself to get sucked into rage-bait arguments with trolls on the Internet, your pain is their gain. Drink lots of water. Sleep. Rest. Watch your favorite comfort shows. Reach out to your communities, both online and local. Build and nurture your support networks. Ask for help from those who are able to offer it; pass it forward to the next person seeking help when you can. Look to your local legislation, get yourself out there, whether it's volunteering, rallying, protesting, whatever you can do to get yourself involved in your community because it's on an individual level that change begins.

Worrying is a drug that impedes progress and destroys lives. None of us are immune to despair - but we are all above it, so long as we keep fighting to find the strength to overcome it. Forgo despair for hope. Forgo despair for resilience. Forgo despair for resolve.

Keep breathing. Keep living. Keep fighting.

Kesalul.

[amazingmsme]

Appetite for Trouble

AN: day 12 is finally here!!! My favorite fic I’ve written so far, which is blatantly obvious by the fact it clocks in over 9k. The mischief prompt was literally perfect for my boy Asterios, I couldn’t pass it up! This is one hefty boi, so grab some snacks & settle on in!

Now with a sequel here!

Being a demigod, things had always been...different for Asterios. Growing up, trouble nipped at his heels wherever he went. People treated him harshly or with a short temper, while his own emotions remained unchecked. A peaceful dinner would soon become a screaming match once he sat at the table.

As he got older, Asterios learned of his heritage and the unwanted powers that came with it. He had always felt stronger when people fought in his presence, and despite how great it felt, he utterly despised it. It did nothing but tie him to his birth mother, and offer a legitimate reason for others to keep their distance. As he grew from a boy to a man, he managed to bend his powers to his benefit. A playful argument, some mischievous roughhousing, nothing too serious, but with just enough discourse to provide a decent energy surge. It wasn't easy, but he managed shift the crew's frustrated tension into a more lighthearted chaos on more than one occasion.

It all started one long, boring afternoon.

Most of them were gathered on the deck, lounging about while others idly performed their tasks. Polites was rambling about something that Asterios couldn't hear from across the deck.

Instead, he planted the seed of mischief inside Elpenor's mind: it would be really fun to tickle Polites right now. He won't even see it coming.

Asterios noticed when the idea took root in his mind. The way he sat up straight, eyes darting to look Polites up and down, as if sizing him up.

Polites felt the gaze boring into him from behind and turned around, cocking his head. "Hey, what's with the look?" he asked innocently.

"Nothin' I'm just bored. So anyway, on a scale of one to ten, how ticklish do you think you are?" Elpenor asked out of the blue. Polites froze, sputtering out an answer.

"Wha- I- uh- I can't say,"Polites said scooting away from his friend, a blush already spreading across his cheeks.

"Guess we should find out then."

"No, we shouldn't!"

"Why, you afraid you're gonna be a ten?"

"Yes- I MEAN NO! Elpenor, wait!"

But there was no time for waiting. He dug his fingers into his sides, causing Polites to flinch away with a giggly squeal. He fell off the barrel he'd been sitting on, and Elpenor pounced.

"Yep, I think you're just a lil nervous to find out how ticklish you really are, but that's okay! You're in good hands!"

"I'm ihihin fucking evil hands, lehehet mehe goooo!"

Elpenor faked a gasp at the obscenity. "Language! Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"From me," Odysseus said, walking up from behind. Everyone froze; a flock of startled sheep. The captain had a relaxed stride and a smirk on his face, so the tension eased slightly.

Asterios saw a golden opportunity and took it.

I should join him. It's been ages since I've made Polites scream for mercy.

Odysseus reeled back at the thought, blinking in surprise as he tried to casually look around. Was it just him, or did the voice sound like...

Asterios stood his ground when the Captain looked his way, squinting. Everyone around him was tuned in, looking away would be more suspicious, would it not? By the Gods, he hoped he was playing his cards right.

Odysseus looked away with a smirk. "So, you want a hand?"

"Odysseus, come on!" Polites whined at the betrayal.

"I'd love one!" Elpenor chirped happily, wrestling their victim's arms above his head as Odysseus sat across his waist.

~~~

Asterios waited a few days before he struck again.

Another bout of boredom stretched across the ship, ensnaring the entirety of the crew in its jaws. That just couldn't stand.

Asterios spotted Leander and Plutarch engaged in a sparring match, grappling each other in the middle of the deck. There was a rope loosely marking the boundaries of their wrestling ring.

Leander circled him like a shark, sporting a sly grin. Plutarch smiled back briefly before falling into a deep concentration.

Suddenly, he lunged forth, slamming into the larger man with all his weight. Leander slid back a few feet as he fought to regain control. He had height on him, but Plutarch had made it clear that they were pretty evenly matched in strength.

He dodged to the side, panting for breath before he was wrestled to the ground, pinned with his face against the wood, one arm behind him.

"Do you yield?" he asked playfully, stretching his arm back. Leander grimaced, but shook his head.

"Never!"

They made this almost too easy.

I bet if I tickle him, he'll change his mind.

Plutarch almost gasped at the intrusive thought, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. Until now, he'd made it a point to avoid their mischievous antics, but it would seem they've started to rub off on him. His hand hovered above the back of his ribs, hesitant.

C'mon, he can't even fight back. What's the worst that'll happen? So against his better judgment, Plutarch poked a curious finger between his ribs.

Leander jumped so hard, he nearly knocked him off his perch. Plutarch arched a brow and repeated the motion. He was rewarded with a rumbly chuckle and flinch to the side.

He tried to stand up, but Plutarch panicked and shoved his hands under his arms, scribbling haphazardly, but hey, that seemed to be working just fine. Leander flopped onto the deck, hiding his face in the crook of his arm while deep belly laughs escaped him.

Asterios couldn't help but smirk as he watched the pair tussle on the ground. Good, they need this. A little bit of mischief never killed anyone.

He winced as a shrill squeal filled the air, looking over to see that Plutarch had managed to pin his arms above his head, raking blunt nails over his exposed hollows. Asterios let a sly chuckle slip out, shaking his head fondly as he stood and vanished into the crowd. As far as he was concerned, his work here was done.

~~~

Asterios knew he had to wait to strike again, less anyone catch on. It was a close call the first time with Odysseus, but he supposed he didn't know. If he did, he was sure he'd have been keelhauled. It was just a coincidence. One that had him paranoid, and he mentally marked Odysseus off the list as a future pawn in this little game of his.

Over a week had passed by, the crew growing restless once more, and he was not immune to the monotony of sea life.

He was walking down the hall when he paused, noticing Perimedes walk into one of the side rooms for a physical checkup. Oh this was too good to resist.

As soon as the door shut, he turned down the hall and stood outside the door, listening. He crouched down, watching through the keyhole for any sort of cue to work off of. Sage, one of their resident medics, had Perimedes laid on his back on a wooden exam table. Sage felt around his neck and shoulders, and even from his limited vantage point, he could see the way Perimedes tensed at the touch.

Is he ticklish? Asterios planted the idea in his mind like a sprouting seed. Sage blinked in surprise and looked his patient up and down. He shook his head, continuing the physical. He moved his hands down to his stomach and gently kneaded towards the center of his belly outwards, right above the hip bones.

Perimedes grunted and twitched away, shooting a glare at the medic. "Watch it."

"Sorry, didn't know you were tickli-"

"I'm not," he cut him off defensively. Sage paused and tilted his head curiously. 

He's too cocky for his own good.

"I'm sorry, of course not. How silly of me," he apologized curtly before resuming the probing touch, this time intentionally trying to tickle.

"Hehey w-whahat do you thihink you're doing?"

"I'm just proceeding with the exam. I thought you said you weren't ticklish?"

Asterios stood up with a proud smirk, dusting off his hands.

"I'm not!"

"Then why're you laughing so much? You coming down with a case of the giggles?"

"Thehehe what?"

"Oh dear, I'm afraid you are. And there's only one treatment."

"No- no Sage, gehet awahay from me!"

Asterios turned back down the main hall, heading towards the upper deck as the sound of panicked laughter grew louder even as he walked away.

~~~

It was… nice seeing the others smile and laugh, knowing he had a hand in it. It’s not that he didn’t want to personally put his friends in their place, he just… didn’t know how. His tough, grim persona did well at hiding the fact that he was nothing more than some shy, awkward, guy. But it also helped him go unnoticed.

He leaned against the wall, watching Elpenor and Aridolis from afar. He wasn’t sure what they were talking about, so he tried to go about his plan in a subtle way.

Whatever Aridolis had said apparently sent him on a tangent. Asterios smirked at his chance.

I bet I know what’ll make him shut up.

Elpenor didn’t notice the smirk that spread across Ari’s face until it was too late.

“Nohoho wahahait! W-what dihid I ever dohoho to you?”

~~~

Asterios didn't notice at first, but he always felt great after these random bouts of mischief. He was bolder, stronger, lighter on his feet. He began doing hard, intense labor that was usually reserved for people like Eurylochus or Leander. He even beat both of them in an arm wrestling match, back to back.

Needless to say, the outwardly cocky demeanor from the usually quiet and stoic man was a noticeable enough change for his crew mates to comment on.

"So glad to see you finally come out of your shell! I knew you just needed some time," Polites chirped, winking at him as he walked up beside him and bumped their shoulders together. Asterios ducked his head and smiled, something dangerous lurking beneath it.

"You know what? I think I really am," he purred, almost on the verge of a growl. Polites eyed him warily, scooting away ever so slight. Because even the friendliest amongst them knew exactly what he was.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it! We're all brothers now, it's about damn time we started acting like it," he said, a hint of amusement lacing his voice. Asterios crossed his arms, leaning back against the railing as he looked at Polites with a softer grin.

"Seems like some of them already are."

Polites chuckled and shook his head. "They're all a piece of work, I tell you. But... it's nice to hear laughter on the ship again. Good to know they can still have fun."

Asterios felt his smile falter at the indirect compliment, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks.

"So how 'bout you?"

Asterios practically jumped out of his skin. "Huh?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh, all this time."

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, "Oh come on, that's not true! I laugh, I just don't laugh often," he clarified. "I'm not a giggly little bitch like some people," he added, looking him up and down. Polites scoffed loudly, jaw hitting the floor.

"Wha- are you talking about me?"

"And a few others," he couldn't hold back a sly chuckle. "There. See? I can laugh."

"Yeah, at my expense," Polites accused playfully. Asterios merely shrugged smugly.

"Yeah, and?"

Polites stared at him long and hard, fingers twitching by his sides before he shook his head.

"No, not today. I'll get you when you least expect it," Polites ultimately decided and started walking away.

The smirk fell from his lips, shoulders dropping as the color drained from his face.

"Wait- what do you mean? Polites, what do you mean?" he called out after him. He turned around to face Asterios, walking backwards and wiggling his fingers. Since when did Polites of all people get scary? Then he thought for a moment about who he grew up with and smacked himself in the head. Of course.

Speak of the devil, Polites bumped into him, and he smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Asterios felt a chill run up his spine. He could see Polites say something that made Odysseus chuckle and glance his way.

He was fucked. Scratch that, he was beyond fucked. Asterios turned bright red and abruptly made his way below deck, shoulder checking Leander on his way.

~~~

Needless to say, he was nervous, but the more time passed, the more he relaxed.  Polites was easy going, he let him off with a warning this time; and he knew that his little guard dog Ody wouldn't attack without orders. He heaved a sigh of relief: he was safe.

For now.

He laid low for well over a month, but of course the mischief didn't stop. Arguments needed settling, pranks were pulled and required revenge, people were plain old bored.

Julien was lounging on the stairs to the upper deck, legs stretched out before him. His head was tilted back and eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the warm sunshine. Elpenor and Perimedes sat on either side of him, staggered on the lower steps.

He was one of the few other demigods aboard the ship, so Asterios would say they got along just fine. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one with divinity in their blood, making itself known through different ways. They both had wings; Asterios with his neatly tucked behind his ears, and Julian with a pair at his ankles. The crew was more than curious about the extra appendages, which was why Asterios almost always kept his hidden. Unfortunately for Julien, they remained in plain view. And right now, were well within reach.

"So can you fly with them?" Elpenor asked, eyeing them as his hand inched closer on the step. Perimedes smirked, carefully watching his movements and mirroring them.

"Not really, but I can hover and glide when I really need to," he answered.

"Oh, so they're just for show?"

Julien let out a slightly annoyed huff. "Sure, I guess."

"So why are they red like that?" Perimedes asked, causing him to tense up immediately upon hearing the question.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Elpenor shot his friend a look, stomping on his foot to signal that was the wrong thing to say. Perimedes hissed in pain and shot him a look back.

"Well I think it looks great on you," Elpenor chirped, running his fingers through the downy feathers. Julien gasped and shot upright, tucking his knees to his chest while his wings pressed themselves flush against his skin for protection.

"Oh? What's this?"

Asterios never stuck around for long, regardless if he was the cause or not. As soon as laughter filled the air, he was looking for a way out. Don't get him wrong, he loved feeding off the unhinged chaos, but something about it all brought on a hot burning embarrassment and something else he couldn't quite describe.

Fear? Hell no, no way in all of Tartarus was he afraid of fucking child's play such as tickling. Maybe it was more of a fear of rejection? That he wasn't good enough to join their games, so he excludes himself before anyone else could.

Sound logic, but not quite.

Or perhaps it was uncertainty. He had no idea if he was ticklish or not, and he wasn't too keen on finding out. Yes, the others looked like they were having fun, but he had to remind himself that it's all forced and most saw it as a form of punishment and torture. So he wasn't about to let anyone turn him into a giggly little bitch, per his own words. 

He was frozen where he sat, his heart racing as he watched the pair team up against the other demigod. His wings began to tingle and he bit back a whine, shaking his head and pressing them deeper into the mass of curls. He could only imagine how awful that felt, and he did feel somewhat sorry for him. Not sorry enough to go help, mind you, but sorry nonetheless.

Julien kicked his legs out, barking out a laugh when Elpenor scribbled the base of the wing as he tried to climb backwards up the stairs. Asterios felt a shiver run down his spine and a blush spread across his cheeks. Perimedes grabbed his other leg in a headlock and he stood up abruptly, stretching to try and come off as casual before heading to the opposite side of the deck.

"Asterios! Come to help?" Elpenor called out enticingly, countered by the frantic screech of protest from Julien, "No don't!"

Asterios stood still when called, sparing a glance at the trio and wishing he hadn't, embarrassment swirling in his gut. He had to resist the urge to hide behind his wings, knowing he'd never live it down. He played it as cool as he possibly could, snorting in amusement.

"You fuckin' wish." He quickly went on his way, eager to get away from the scene.

"Wait! Hehehelp mehehe!"

Asterios knew better than to look back. If he saw the desperate face that matched the voice, he'd cave and go back to save him. The martyr, who would be thrown to the wolves in his place. No fucking thank you.

"Sorry, but someone's gotta get the work done around here. You have fun though! Maybe try fighting back or something," he called, without so much as a second glance.

Odysseus watched the exchange from where he stood at the wheel, humming thoughtfully. He made note of it for later, the pieces finally falling into place.

~~~

If only he'd known Odysseus was onto him. If only he knew, he would've never gone after him. He should've known better after that first time, when Odysseus shut him down with a piercing glare that bore into his soul. The captain was smart, much smarter than Asterios ever was, and more calculating.

It was a mistake to assume he'd be just as clueless as the rest of them.

It might've also been a mistake to use Eurylochus as a pawn, but he was curious! He just wanted to see if the first mate had a playful bone in his body, to see that stoic demeanor crack when Odysseus inevitably turned the tables.

He was standing underneath the main sail, struggling to reach a dangling rope. Eurylochus watched on with a poorly concealed smirk.

"Need a hand, Captain?"

"No thanks, I'm good," he dismissed the offer, still straining to grab the frayed ends. Eurylochus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head fondly.

"Whatever you say."

Asterios saw the way he smirked, watching the captain from the corner of his eye. It was too tempting not to pass up.

It would be so easy to tickle him right now, he left himself wide open.

He watched the way Eurylochus stiffened, seemingly studying Odysseus and weighing his options.

What the hell, he could use a good laugh.

Making sure he was still distracted, Eurylochus reached up and scribbled against his stretched ribs. He slammed his arms down with a borderline shriek, whipping around to glare at Eurylochus. There was a fire in his eyes and a danger to his smile. Eurylochus balked, unsure why he thought that was a good idea. He knew he wouldn't get away with a stunt like that, and he'd never do that in front of the crew because Odysseus would fucking kill him.

"Did you really just do that?" he asked, a smirk already playing at his lips.

"I'm sorry Sir, I-I don't know what came over me-"

"I do," Odysseus bragged.

Eurylochus arched a brow, standing a little straighter in confusion. "What?"

Suddenly, Odysseus grabbed him by the forearm and tugged him close enough to whisper in his ear, "I'll tell you later. Right now, just play along and laugh. Easy enough?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Sorry, but I have to make an example out of you." In one swift motion, he yanked his arm above his head, spinning them around to pin him against the mast. He adjusted his grip to the other hand before drilling his thumbs in the center of his hollows. Eurylochus threw his head back, lost to bouts of deep, rumbling laughter.

So obviously, he was more than reluctant when the captain called him into his quarters.

Eurylochus knocked on the door hesitantly before testing the knob. It was unlocked, and he stepped inside.

"Captain?"

"Oh good, you're here. Sit down," he gestured to an empty chair as he finished writing something at his desk.

Eurylochus did as he was told. "So, what did you want to speak about? I hope this wasn't a trap," he teased lightly. Odysseus chuckled, shaking his head.

"I can see why you'd think that. But no, unlike some people on this ship, I'm man enough to face a challenge head on."

Eurylochus reeled back, blinking in shock. "Sir?"

"The men have been more rowdy than usual, wouldn't you agree?" Odysseus continued as though he hadn't spoken. Eurylochus inhaled sharply through his nose and exhaled a deep, heavy sigh.

"That's one word for it," he mused.

"And why do you think that is?" Odysseus asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, not quite sitting on his desk, but leaning heavily.

"We've been away from home for years, and we haven't docked in months. Men grow bored," he reasoned. The captain shook his head.

"Men, or man?"

Eurylochus closed his eyes, letting out a tired, "What?"

"I think someone's been pulling a few strings..." This seemed to grab his first mate's attention.

"What?" he repeated, more serious and less exasperated this time. "What are you getting at?" he asked cautiously.

"Just think about it. We have demigods amongst our ranks; we don't even know everything they're capable of."

"You don't think maybe they're just having fun? We're in a war, Odysseus, let them laugh while they can."

"And were you "just having fun" when you pulled your little stunt?" he questioned smugly, cocking his head expectantly as Eurylochus snapped his mouth shut. "Or did an enticing little voice in your head make the suggestion?"

He gasped, staring at Odysseus in shock. "How did you-"

"I'm an observant guy," he said, cutting him off.

"So... who do you think is responsible?"

"Asterios, there's no doubt in my mind."

"The quiet one?" Eurylochus arched a brow. "Why?"

"He's the son of Eris."

"And that makes him guilty?"

Odysseus huffed and rolled his eyes. "No, everything else does. That just explains how he's able to do it."

Eurylochus leaned back in the chair, "Everything else?"

"You ever notice how he never sticks around to watch? But he's got this sly, smug look the whole time. And after a particularly hectic day, he gets stronger. Remember when he beat you at arm wrestling?"

"Don't remind me."

"I think he gets stronger afterwards. It would explain why he's suddenly so helpful around the ship."

"You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"I know I'm right about this."

"You better be, because you'll make an ass out of yourself if you're wrong."

"When have I ever been wrong?" Eurylochus opened his mouth to speak, but Odysseus cut him off, "Don't answer that."

The first mate mulled it over in his mind. ""Why are you so sure that anyone is behind this?"

"Because I know you well enough to know you'd never try and get me in front of the whole crew. You're smarter than that."

"Thank you?"

"But it felt irresistible, didn't it? The need to cause chaos? I felt it too, when I got Polites a while back."

"Which time?" he teased. Odysseus narrowed his eyes.

"With Elpenor."

"Yeah, which time?" he repeated tauntingly. Odysseys laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"Oh shut up! Maybe it's not always his fault, but it's more often than you'd think."

Eurylochus sighed. "So? What are you gonna do about it?" A sinister grin slowly spread across the captain's face.

"Alright, so here's what I'm thinking..."

~~~

It was a day like any other, and Asterios had no reason to feel on edge. He sat with Leander and Plutarch, idly carving hunks of wood and brushing the shavings underneath the railing when the pile grew too high.

He was trying to carve a figurine of Cetus. Growing up, he had always been enamored with the sea monster constellation, and when his true parentage came to light, it made sense. Eris explained to him that the creatures in the sky were her pets, and Cetus had always been one of her favorites. She even said that when she would check in on him, Cetus would be watching from over her shoulder.

A fairytale to tell her child. If she wanted to fill his head with stories, she should've done so a long time ago. Yet, he found comfort in the presumed lie, and he didn't know what else to carve. Maybe if they really did watch him, this would make them happy.

Was he fucking carving this to impress his mother? He shook the thought out of his head.

He didn't pay much attention when the captain walked up from below deck. That is, until he called his name.

"Asterios, a word?"

He didn't sound... angry, but there was a dangerous edge hiding beneath his words. Asterios held his breath, not daring to move an inch.

"Yes?"

"Relax, I just want to talk."

That was never a good sign, and Leander and Plutarch were already exchanging curious glances. Fuck.

"Come, walk with me," Odysseus invited with a deceptively warm smile. Asterios didn't answer for a long moment before he caved.

"Yes Sir. No one touch my fucking carving," he threatened as he stood, brushing himself off. He followed the captain, trying to ignore the looks he received. He still saw the way Elpenor mouthed the words "you're in trouble," and he looked away, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

Gods, did he have to take him all the way to the front of the ship? Yes they were "alone," but everyone could see him inevitably get chewed out and overhear every word.

"May I ask what this is about? Have I done anything wrong, Sir?"

"Oh I think you know exactly what this is about."

Shit. Asterios began to panic, but outwardly played dump.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

This felt like a game, and he didn't like his odds of winning.

"Tell you what?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm mostly just curious in how you did it. I can get the why, I just can't understand the how."

Asterios furrowed his brows, tilting his head in confusion. "Captain? Are you feeling okay?" He asked, playing up his concern for his wellbeing. Odysseus glared at him as he spoke.

"I'm fine-"

"Okay, because for a minute there, you were talking like you drank sea water or something- ow!" Asterios rubbed the back of his head where Odysseus smacked him.

"Now, you ready to listen?" he asked, waiting for him to nod. "Good. Because I'm not mad, I just want you to own up to it, okay?"

Asterios's heart pounded in his chest, but he remained still. "There's nothing to own up to," he lied. Odysseus sighed, shaking his head.

"You sure you don't just wanna do things the easy way? I'm serious about not being mad, I honestly thought it was kinda funny."

Asterios whipped his head over to look at him.

"Thought what was funny?" Asterios held firm to the act. He already came this far, backing down now would be a death sentence.

"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you." Odysseus cupped his hands around his mouth, taking a deep breath to shout across the deck.

"Wait!" Asterios cried, unsure of what he was about to say and took his last chance to explain. Odysseus lowered his arms with a proud grin. "Just- let me explain."

"Oh, please do."

Asterios looked around for any chance at escape, but both Eurylochus and Polites stood nearby on either side of the railing, clearly ready to grab him if he tried to run. Polites noticed him staring and he flashed a bright smile, waving at him with wiggling fingers. Asterios glared at him, cheeks dusted pink and jaw clenched tightly.

He flinched when Odysseus snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention. "Hey, your captain's speaking to you."

"Yes Sir?"

"I said I'm waiting."

Oh, what an asshole.

Asterios glared at him as he spoke, "Well, as you know, I'm a son of Eris-"

"Mhm," Odysseus hummed and nodded along, leaning against the railing casually. Asterios fought back a sneer.

"Since I was a child, I noticed people tend to fight in my presence. I've learned to control it somewhat, so that the crew wouldn't be at each other's throats," he explained, not quite looking Odysseus in the eye.

"Oh, so you're doing this for our benefit." Something about his tone set Asterios off, and he took a step back.

Odysseus was having fun toying with him. The look on his face alone was priceless; eyes wide and mouth hung open in shock, and he could see the feathers of his wings bristling beneath his hair.

"Yes?"

Odysseus grinned so wide, it nearly split his face in two. "In that case, let's go tell the crew what you so kindly did for them."

"What- no! You can't! Just fuckin' wait!"

Asterios physically felt the color drain from his face, the panic beginning to set in. Fuck, why was he telling everyone? Why couldn't he just chew him out in private, why did it have to be this public hanging of character? He would've preferred if Odysseys just drug him below deck and beat the shit out of him for daring to step out of line. That way, he could at least lick his wounds in private. Was he going to have to fight the captain in front of everyone? His mind was a whirlwind, and he couldn't keep up.

His frantic protests were ignored as the captain called his crew, "Hey everyone, Asterios has something he'd like to say."

"Shut up, no I don't!" Asterios hissed.

"That's no way to speak to the captain," Eurylochus warned, but he didn't have his usual stone cold expression, and his tone was lighthearted, almost teasing. Asterios didn't know if that made it worse or not.

Oh Gods, everyone was looking at him now, and his only chance at escape would be to throw himself overboard. He bit his tongue and stood there, completely still. Incomprehensible whispers murmured through the crowd as he just stood there, balking like a dead fish. If Odysseus wanted to humiliate him, he'd done it. But he knew this was nothing compared to whatever was to come.

"Asterios? You okay?" Leander asked, stepping closer to check on his friend. Odysseus held up a hand to stop him from getting any closer.

"Oh he's fine, just a bit shy. Aren't you bud?" he asked, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Asterios visibly stiffened and flinched away.

"Don't make me do this," he whispered, barely audible. Odysseus chuckled lowly directly in his ear, "Too late to back out now."

"Well can he get on with it? I got shit to do," Perimedes spoke up from the crowd.

"Oh I think you'll wanna hear this. But seeing as our friend is a little tongue tied, I guess I'll help explain."

Asterios felt like he was going to die. He certainly wanted to. Maybe if he wished hard enough, he could just fade from existence. His lips were pressed in a thin line and wide eyes stared at the floorboards on the deck to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. His cheeks were steadily growing a bright pink, and his breath came slow and deep as he fought to remain calm.

Odysseus must've sensed his growing panic and was quick to try and put him at ease. A moot effort, seeing as he got him so worked up.

He squeezed his shoulder and shook him gently to loosen him up, a hearty chuckle slipping out. "Relax, will you?" he teased, enjoying stretching this out. "You're not in trouble."

"It sure seems like I am, Sir."

"What? Noooo, that wasn't my intention at all!" he feigned innocence, smirking when Asterios rolled his eyes.

"Trouble? What did he do now?" Elpenor snorted in amusement.

"What didn't he do?" he mused aloud, launching into his speech. "I'm sure you've all noticed a lot more pranks, tickle fights, and general mischief. Just this time last week, an actual food fight broke out in the mess hall. And you all have this little puppet master to thank for it," he proudly exclaimed, reaching up to ruffle his hair teasingly.

Asterios could only stand there and watch it happen. His face was burning, and he's positive he's never felt more mortified. He could hear confused voices murmur among the crowd, but his ears were ringing, and he couldn't fucking move, could barely breathe. It was like he wasn't even in control of his body.

He caught a sympathetic look from Leander, silently mouthing the words, "help me," but Leander only gave a subtle shake of the head from where he stood. He caught a glimpse of Perimedes and Elpenor peaking out from behind Polites, and all three of them looked ready to pounce.

"So wasn't there something you wanted to say to everyone?" Odysseus prompted, snapping him out of his daze.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, eyes darting up to look at the crowd before adverting his gaze.

"No, that's not it!"

Asterios furrowed his brows, "What? I-I thought-"

"You were going to say you're welcome," he corrected ever so helpfully.

Asterios could only stand there as Odysseus shook him by the shoulders once more, trying to get him to just relax, as if he wasn’t actively digging his grave. He remained tense, and the movement was awkward and jerky. He continued to look down at his feet, scared of what he'd see if he looked out at the small crowd gathered on the deck. Harsh glares with hateful sneers, knowing looks accompanied by a teasing smirk; he didn't know which would be worse.

He chanced a glance up and realized that the second option was much worse.

"So why don't you tell him how thankful you all are."

He tried to protest, to question what he meant, but suddenly the arm around his shoulders wrapped around his throat like a vice and slammed him backwards, onto the deck. He fought against him with everything he had.

"Fuckin'- let me go! I said I'm sorry!" he yelled frantically, flailing about to keep his limbs free. His panic grew when he saw Polites skip over and pin down his legs. Okay, maybe he didn't actually skip, but he might as well have, the smug bastard.

"Relax will you? We're just gonna give you a taste of your own medicine. You can handle a little tickling, can't you?"

"Nah, he looks like a screamer," Elpenor teased, walking up with Perimedes. Asterios blushed an ungodly shade of red because Elpenor of all people did not just fucking say that about him.

"Said the screamer!" he lamely shot back, wiggling his arms free from under the captain's knees where he was pinning him before continuing to fight for his freedom.

"Think I'll like you way better when you can't talk. Eurylochus? Mind making yourself useful and get his arms?" Perimedes asked, making a show of cracking his knuckles. He swore as Eurylochus wrestled his arms above his head, glaring daggers at the first mate.

He jumped when he felt someone sit down beside him, sighing in relief when it was only Leander.

"Leander, thank the Gods! You gotta help me, they're gonna kill me!" The smirk he got in return made his heart sink.

"On the contrary, I think a little laughter and fun will do you some good!"

"You asshole, you think this is fun?" he growled. He got a much more enthusiastic agreement than he expected, prompting his blush to spread. He closed his eyes, muttering, "Zeus, just kill me now."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Odysseus rolled his eyes and poked his belly, earning a harsh twitch and a yelp. "Just tell us where you're ticklish, and this can all be over a lot sooner."

Asterios felt panic course through him, and he bristled. "I don't know!" he rushed out before he could think better of it.

Odysseus studied him with an amused look before the smile dropped, ever so slightly. "Holy shit, you're serious aren't you?"

Asterios stared at him wordlessly, mouth gaping open though no sound escaped.

"Aaaw, now we just have to tickle him!"

"Shut the FUCK up Polites, I swear I'll- mph!" Asterios clamped his mouth shut in the middle of his sentence as Polites began softly tracing his arches.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" he asked innocently, scratching blunt nails against delicate skin. He squeaked and tried to jerk his feet away,

But they remained trapped. His chest shook as he fought to contain his mirth.

A shy giggle slipped out when Leander began poking between his ribs. He jerked away with each touch, squealing when he suddenly pressed into an awaiting hand in his other side. He looked over to see Plutarch smirking down at him.

"You're both trahahaitors! Hehehey wahait!" he cried out when they each attacked his ribs with a flurry of pokes. A sudden electric sensation at his knees had him kicking the deck and snorting. Whoever the hell had gotten ahold of his knees was a fucking deadman-

"Ha! I knew you'd snort if I did that!" Perimedes bragged, and of course it just had to be him. He swears he's gonna rip out his fucking tongue-

"I'm sorry, you're gonna what?" he growled, resting his hands atop his knees threateningly, making him flinch.

Asterios froze, closing his eyes because he couldn't bring himself to look at any of these assholes. "Please tell me I at least said that out loud?" The rest of the crew watched on in confusion,  glancing between the two.

Perimedes shook his head, sporting a downright sinister grin. "No, I'm afraid you didn't." And then he started squeezing his knees relentlessly, sending him into a fit of snorting cackles and shrieks. He continued to berate him, "So that's how you fuckin' do it? Get inside our heads with our own thoughts? Wonder what else we'll hear when we really get you going."

Asterios screamed when he scratched the backs of his knees, nearly kicking Polites off from where he sat on his ankles.

"Wait, let me ask something," he could hear Elpenor's voice, too close for comfort, and opened his eyes to see him sitting beside Eurylochus with a smile of his own. The horrible feeling at his knees stopped and he caught his breath in between shaky residual giggles.

"So was the wet blanket prank even my idea?" Elpenor asked, leaning in a little closer. A sly, proud smirk tugged at his lips as he remembered that one. Elpenor had gathered everyone's bedding in a barrel filled with sea water and snuck the wet sheets back into everyone's rooms, making their bed with unpleasantly damp covers.

His prolonged silence and sheepish grin told him everything he needed to know.

"I was proud of that one, you bastard!" he growled, digging into his exposed pits without mercy. He barked out a loud, wheezing laugh and felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at the sound. He tugged on his arms, but he was thoroughly trapped. He wanted to die, he sure felt like he was, and he needed to escape- or hide at the very least. It was pure reflex, to snap his wings tight over his face to conceal his blushing cheeks and tearful eyes.

As he expected, there was an uproar of teasing and laughter from his tormentors and their audience.

"Aaaaww, that was so cute!"

"He can't run, but I guess he can hide!"

"What's the matter? Is someone a little embarrassed?"

Oh, so they wanted to just straight up humiliate him to death. Decimate the carefully crafted persona he'd built for himself, and leave what was left of his dignity and sanity in shreds across the deck. He'd never be able to show his face again! He certainly wouldn't be leaving his room anytime soon, and if they thought he was gonna be nice to them after this-

Elpenor grabbed one wing and gently pried it back, chuckling at the downright terrified, flustered look on his face. "Why d'you look so scared? Just relaaaax, we're all having fun," he cooed tauntingly.

Asterios scoffed, "No, you're having fun!" He'd fucking kill him for even insinuating-

"I don't know, you sound pretty happy to me," Leander spoke up with that dopey ass grin he always wore. Okay, so he'd kill both of them.

"Thanks, didn't fuckin' ahahask," he growled, breaking off in breathless snickers as Leander pinched each rib.

"That wasn't very nice," he teased, laughing along with his friend's torment, wiggling a finger between the bone. Asterios snorted and jerked away, right into Plutarch's waiting hands on his other side. And the dance repeated.

Polites noticed Aridolis lingering closer ever so slowly and smiled, waving him over. “Wanna give me a hand?” he offered, focusing all of his efforts on one foot to make room for him.

Ari immediately perked up at the offer, sitting on the ground facing him. All the while, Asterios continued to thrash and yell out threats.

“NO! Ari Ihihi swear toho thehehe Gods, i-if you lahahay aha hand on mehehe I’ll kihihill you ihin your sleep!” he growled through shrill giggles. He heard a few of them chuckling at him, and he wanted to die. If he were being honest, Tartarus would be better than this.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Ari hummed as he joined the fray, raking sharp claws up and down his sole. Asterios was once again thrown into hysterics.

Elpenor still hadn't let go of his wing, and it twitched, trying to tuck itself against his head for safety. The movement didn't go unnoticed, and he smirked as he rubbed the soft feathers between his fingers. Asterios let out a shrill shriek, and the wing immediately snapped back, nestling under the hair behind his ear. He couldn't help but giggle at him.

"Aw, are you winking at me?" Elpenor asked and shot him a wink in return. Asterios turned a darker shade of pink and let out an annoyed huff, tucking the other wing away angrily. "Oh come on, you're no fun," he teased, grabbing one wing and prying it open.

Asterios shook his head, giggly pleas falling from his lips. "Dohohon't you dare! Elpenor, please!"  He tried to scrunch his neck and lean away, flap his wings, anything to get away.

"Oh these are a really bad spot, aren't they?" he taunted, wiggling his fingers closer. Asterios flinched away with a nervous giggle.

"They must be, if they got him acting like that," Odysseus added.

"I'm sure they are. Remember how bad Julien screamed? Let's make this asshole scream even louder," Perimedes cracked his knuckles as he spoke, and Asterios slammed his head against the deck in defeat.

"Can you at least have the decency to kill me in silence?" he growled, hiding half his face with his free wing, unable to look at them for another second.

"How can you still be so damn grumpy?" Polites asked, scribbling beneath his toes and earning a deafening shriek. Amputation sounded pretty fuckin' good right about now.

Polites gasped, letting out a laugh of his own. "Oh you are SO dramatic! You should hear him Ody, he's worse than you!"

"Oh I heard it that time," Odysseus taunted with a playful edge to his voice. He leaned in closer to whisper, "What's the matter? Thoughts going haywire? Can't keep a grip on your powers? That's too bad."

Asterios could only squeal and giggle hysterically as Elpenor pinched and rubbed the wing between his fingers. He snorted and arched his back when he scratched at the base, feathers ruffled and twitching with every touch.

"SOHOHOMEONE FUCKING HEHEHELP!" he demanded through a screaming laugh. Julien stepped forward with an amused grin, squatting down to better look Asterios in the eye.

"Sorry, but what makes you think you deserve it? I mean, maybe if you would've helped me back when I needed it..."

The irony was not lost on him. This was some kind of cruel, poetic justice for not helping his fellow demigod from a fate clearly worse than death. He should've saved him, if only to have someone on his side when the time came. But he was so arrogant, so sure that it could never happen to him...

"Shihit, I'm sohohorry, ohokahay? I-I should've hehelped when I hahahad thehe chance!" he pleaded.

"Yeah, you should've. But you have fun though! Maybe try fighting back or something," Julien repeated his words to him, rubbing salt in the wound. But in this case, it felt more like sugar; sickeningly sweet and sticking to his skin in an unbearable manner. The tickling also left him more dazed and jittery than any sugar rush ever could.

Asterios shook his head, begging him not to do this before he grabbed his other wing. He squealed loudly when they both attacked the base of the wings with quick scratches and soft squeezes. He snorted loudly, unable to even shake his head as they held his wings in place.

Surely, anything would be better than this  strange, unusual torture, this public humiliation. This downright defamation of character. Lesson learned. He'll swear off his powers if he makes it out of this alive.

Even in his frantic state, he tried to hold these thoughts close. But Odysseus had quietly been studying him, and the words found purchase in his mind. Did he really think they were doing this just to humiliate him? That they weren't  his brothers, dragging him into a game he himself started? That they would only care about revenge, and not the absolutely adorable sounds he was making, or the lopsided grin on his face? He'd have to make sure to set the record straight. In private though, he knew better than to call him out... again.

Meanwhile Elpenor and Julien sent him into a fit of hysterical giggles with the attention given to his wings. He snorted in between shrill snickers, blushing profusely and shaking his head. He heard Elpenor gasp and felt a poke to his cheek.

"By the Gods, you have dimples? Why didn't you tell us? You look so cuuuuuute!"

"Whahat? Nohoho I don't!" Asterios cried out in confusion between bouts of laughter. It's a good thing he couldn't fucking think, because otherwise he'd be downright spiraling after that comment. But even in his delirious state, he knew it was nothing more than playful teasing. Elpenor doesn't actually think he's cute, he's just trying to get a rise out of him. Don't listen to him.

"Uh, yeah you do."

"Poor thing, didn't even know he had dimples," Odysseus added mockingly, also deciding to poke his cheek.

Polites twisted around and leaned back to look, "Aw, I wanna see!"

"Just shut uhuhup! P-plehehease! Hehehelp mehehe!" he desperately cried out for anyone to take pity on him. He thought maybe he had a chance when he locked eyes with Sage, but the medic merely shrugged and offered a sheepish, not very sympathetic, grin.

In all the time they've been away from home, it had been a rare sight to see Asterios so much as smile. It was even more rare to hear a genuine laugh from the demigod, so they were going to take advantage of the sight while they could.

But they were rather mean in their attack, and Asterios quite literally couldn't even remember the last time he'd been tickled, so he finally bid his dignity farewell and threw in the towel.

"Ohohokay- OKAHAY! Please, you wihihin! Ihihi'm sorry! IHI'M SOHOHORRY! OHO FUHUCK YOU, STOHOHOP!" His giggly begging turned to screaming pleas for mercy when Elpenor decided to blow a raspberry at the base of his wing right as he decided to talk. Odysseus held a hand up, signaling them all to stop.

They let him go and he immediately curled into a giggly ball, tucking his arms and legs as close to him as he could. His wings were plastered to his blushing face, a bright smile just barely peaking out from under them. Residual giggles escaped as he slowly caught his breath, interrupted by the occasional hiccup.

"I ha- hic- hate all of you," he panted. Perimedes couldn't help but let out a condescending chuckle when he hiccuped.

"Now I think that was more than fair given the circumstances," Odysseus reasoned. Asterios lifted a wing to glare at him with one eye.

"That assault was a- hic- anything but fair!" Elpenor was unable to hold back his own laughter that time. Asterios silently cursed himself and tried to steady his breathing.

"Neither is using us as your little chaos puppets."

Asterios couldn't help but smirk, a sly chuckle slipping out. "Chaos puppets. I like that." The smile dropped from his face as he continued, "But uh, you guys won't have to worry about that anymore. Think I learned my lesson."

"Yeah, next time you wanna start a tickle fight, man up and do it yourself," Perimedes taunted, prompting Asterios to growl and kick at him, stronger than he really intended. But it's Perimedes, so he didn't feel too bad about it. Especially after that.

Asterios huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up ever so slightly. "I didn't want to start anything, that was the whole point of using you guys," he deadpanned, fighting the lingering smile on his face to glare at him.

"And how did that work out?" Polites asked smugly, propping his chin on Odysseus's shoulder from behind. Asterios blinked in surprise, not expecting him of all people to continue ragging on him. He grinned wider, flashing all his teeth, "Told you I'd get you."

"Yeah, and you look real proud too, smug bastard." His comment made them chuckle, and he found himself unable to stop smiling. But everyone was staring at him, smiling and whispering, and he still felt like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

Leander reached out to help him stand, but Asterios shoved him away. "Don't fuckin' touch me, asshole."

"Oh come on, don't be like that," he whined. Asterios sneered at him and stormed off to his room, ignoring the smirks, quiet snickers and teasing remarks tossed his way.

Yeah, he wasn't gonna leave his quarters for a week.

He shut the door, flopping face first onto the thin mattress. That had been horrible, unlike anything he'd ever been forced to endure. The worst part of it all was the embarrassment. At least the feeling stopped once they did, but the shame lingered thick and heavy. The sounds he made... No one would take him seriously ever again.

He tried to sleep, but found it surprisingly difficult. In fact, he felt wide awake, jittery, energized. It felt just like when he would stir up trouble on the ship, only... stronger.

Oh fuck them to Hades and back. He did not just get a power trip from... from that! He still wasn't completely sure how his powers worked, but he refused to believe it. He had to draw a line somewhere.

A sharp knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts.

Just great. Who the hell could that be, and didn't they know how to take a fucking hint?

"Get lost."

"It's me."

Asterios turned on his heels, eyes wide and staring at the door.

That motherfucker-

He marched to the door, swinging it open. He glared down at the captain, arms crossed, "Didn't you get enough?"

"I came to check up on you. You okay?" he asked, at least sounding genuine. Asterios snorted and leaned against the doorframe, subtly blocking him from entering.

"Yeah, no thanks to you assholes."

"You've had it coming for a long time, and you know it," he teased lightly. Asterios arched a brow, clearly unamused. Odysseus looked him up and down with a fond smirk. "So can I come in?"

Asterios barked out a loud, condescending laugh, "No."

"I brought a peace offering," he added, holding up a cup of wine. Asterios glared at him for a moment before accepting the cup, stepping aside to let him in.

Once the door was shut, the captain turned to face him, "Seriously though, I wanted to make sure you're okay. I know some of the guys can get a little carried away."

"Don't act like you're not one of them," Asterios shot back, sitting on the edge of his bed. Odysseus chuckled and shook his head.

"Yeah, I'll admit, I can go a little overboard," he chuckled, and Asterios rolled his eyes. "But you're not like, actually mad at us, are you?"

"What? No," Asterios was quick to answer. "No, it's not that." He was definitely feeling some type of way after that, but he didn't think it was anger. He was used to furry and rage, but this was something else entirely. It didn't feel great, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant either. Not that he'd tell him. It was confusing, treading these unfamiliar waters of, dare he say, friendship.

Odysseus softened, seeming to recognize his struggle. "It can be a little overwhelming, can't it?"

"That's an understatement."

"Heh, yeah. But, you'll get used to it," he said with a wink. Asterios froze.

"No I won't."

"Eh, you will. You're fair game now."

"I am not!" he half growled, half whined.

"What? I'm just being honest. Running away from tickle fights won't work forever."

Asterios stared at him, stuttering for an excuse, "Wha- I- no I don't!"

"Yeah, you just magically disappear when one breaks out, isn't that convenient?"

"If I knew it was just gonna be more of this, I would've just taken the wine and slammed the door in your face."

"So you don't deny it?" he goaded, tongue poking out between his teeth in a cheeky grin.

"It's embarrassing, what the hell do you want from me?" he snapped.

"Hey, I get it. But I'm just saying, you're not as subtle as you think. And, I don't know, maybe Perimedes had a point."

"Excuse me?" Asterios gripped the cup so hard, his knuckles turned white and he was staring at Odysseus like a trapped wolf: angry, scared and cornered.

Odysseus knew he had to tread carefully. He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Sorry if this seems blunt, but were you just too shy to include yourself? That's why you made us do it, isn't it?" He knew from the look on the demigod's face that he was right.

"I'd shut the fuck up if I were you."

"I'm right though, aren't I?" he asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

Asterios glared at him as he spoke, chest heaving with every nervous breath he took. He took a step forward, trying to appear threatening. "If you tell anyone-"

"I won't."

Asterios seemed to relax. "Good. Thank you." He adverted his gaze and took a sip of wine to busy himself.

"Don't mention it." He gave his shoulder a pat as he left, not commenting on the way Asterios flinched at the touch. He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder. "Oh, and Asterios?"

"Yeah?"

"You're our brother now. We care about you. And sometimes, that looks a lot like bullying."

Asterios broke out in a timid grin. "Yeah, I think I'm figuring that out."

Odysseus gave a nod before letting himself out.

Asterios fell back on the bed, sighing deeply. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

He'd always been a little bit dramatic.

[centrally-unplanned]

The Swing Won't Save You

The "mainstream" account of the election results is one I generally endorse. Elections are thermostatic in the sense that they bounce around an equilibrium - these days the incumbent has a disadvantage, being blamed for the problems but not credited for the successes. Democrats lost because of things like the 2021-2023 inflation spike, or the immigration surge, and the next administration will be blamed for whatever problems the cycle of history throws upon us on top of the consequences of their own actions. That is just How It Be, and it isn't something internal reform can change.

This account is probably true, but this does not lead to some of the conclusions one is hoping it will. I see many taking this as a sort of dismal c'est la vie, assuming that you can just ride it out and win next time, then do good when you do. That therefore there really isn't any need to change all that much in the Dem party structure.

The miss here is that there are fundamental inequalities in the two parties. We just went through, quite handily, the most progressive democratic administration in decades. One that was maximally committed to the idea of "FDR reborn". And it did some good stuff! But I don't really think it lived up to the name, not even close. The democratic "win" - which occurred at the peak of the Covid Crisis in an era of nigh-unprecedented discontent against an incumbent president who was deeply unpopular - delivered a razor thin margin in the House and a literal tiebreaker Senate, itself only after a series of special elections.

The Biden administration spent its political capital on macroeconomic stabilization, one authentic Dem priority in the IRA bill, and then otherwise spent much of its time on a series of rearguard actions and failed attempts to appease coalition partners like unions (who broke away from Dems in record numbers in 2024). Bad policy ideas like student debt relief were themselves undone by the courts. They had four years to prosecute Trump for a blatantly obvious mountain of crimes, and could not get a single one of them across the finish line. And meanwhile, due to awful polling numbers, they felt forced to pursue a number of policies they didn't even really agree with to stave off future defeat. Which they, of course, did somewhat badly, for many reasons but "not really believing in them" is certainly a factor.

Meanwhile surveying the Republican Party's incoming administration, I of course cannot say what they will do with their probable quadfecta, so this is speculative. But through the dice of death they handily control the courts. More importantly, they play the dice to control the courts - we already have discourse on getting the two oldest Republican jurors in the SC to retire. Republican plans include debates around say abolishing the NLRB as unconstitutional, or mass scale deportations, and more you have certainly heard of. They will not do all of them, of course not. But "winning a court case to dismantle a regulatory capacity" is far, far easier than passing a congressional bill to reinstate it. You are not "un-deporting" anybody. The entire Republican agenda is structurally easier to pursue - tearing down is just easier than building up.

And meanwhile, the levers of power are themselves biased. The Supreme Court, of course, but more importantly the Senate, which has an awful map for the Dems. Even when you give Dems their best case scenarios where they win every competitive upcoming election, you are talking 52-48 seats up through ~2032. Meanwhile, the Republican ceiling is 60-40, and is not likely to dip out of the majority.

No one can predict the future of course - I just don't think this scenario and reality is getting the proper attention. A "swing" model where Dems win in 2028 at the same margins they won in say 2020, and then it swings back and so on, is a defeat for Democrats. Republicans will likely achieve X% of their agenda over the next two years, solidify court control, and then Dems will achieve X/2% or worse and otherwise play defense on their turn. It almost certainly isn't the apocalypse, it most likely is not the end of democracy - if you don't wanna care about politics, you don't have to, go live your life. But if you are trying to win at politics, if that is your goal - which for a political party it should be - this just ain't it.

The debate I see is over whether or not this election should be a "wake-up call" for Dems. Which is the wrong question, to me - the Biden administration should be a wake up call for Dems. Even if Harris squeaked out a win, it is a defeat to the party that they found themselves running a decaying man with sub-40 approval ratings for President, or found themselves taking a former senator in the top 1% of the leftwing voting record and running her as a centrist. It should be shameful that they took literally years to act on a "border crisis" that once they did act they found themselves perfectly capable of addressing, not because they authentically believed in increasing immigration and wanted to spend capital on that agenda (which they did not do), but because they were scared of the blowback that happened anyway. It is beyond the pale that Trump is not in jail because they think "politicizing the judicial branch" is somehow not their literal jobs as political actors. It is embarrassing that solidly blue Democratic cities are hemorrhaging population to purple and red states because the Democratic party is failing to govern them.

And I know, I am in the grand, august, tiresome tradition of using an election to repeat the same shit I always say. I have been on this beat since at least 2019. But it being tiresome doesn't mean it's wrong. It might not be right! Maybe Republicans will truly collapse into squabbling infighting and get nothing much done beyond tax cuts, their truest love. I don't know. But I think the odds matrix here is pretty ruthless - the opportunities to be a better party barely have downsides. They implement bad policy half the time even when they win! There is a fundamental disconnect between "what do we want to achieve as a party" and "how are we going to achieve that", a strategy void that infighting, paralysis, and special interest spoils-grabbing fills.

I am less confident on the solution for all this - at minimum we don't even have all the post-election data, that will take time. But the problem such solutions should be solving is that the Dems have been losing for 8 years. "Thermostatic swing in 2028" is not going to change that.

[viv-hollande]

Ok, so this is a post that I should have made sooner. I've been somewhat out of the loop with regards to current events and the state of discourse on this website courtesy of a pretty serious depressive episode from which I am only just now recovering. As I have emerged from this state I have been pushed towards a conclusion about this website and the state of discussion around the ongoing Israel-Gaza War that I had thus far avoided due in part to my barely possessing the energy to keep myself alive and due in part to my denial that the conclusion could be true. But that denial can no longer hold.

It has become openly apparent that the pro-Palestinian camp on this website has become popularly infused with a degree of blatant, aggressive antisemitism that I, in my naivety thought impossible in the days just after October 7. I am trying to avoid turning this into a mea culpa because that would be unproductive and feel self-serving, but I do feel an obligation to admit that I disregarded prescient warnings from Jewish users whose warnings I dismissed as over-blowing a problem that I felt was real, but more limited in scope than they made out.

I'm neither an idiot nor am I ignorant. I am well aware of the long history of antisemitism in leftist politics and in the Palestinian Liberation movement. Back at the beginning of this crisis I was prepared to see the occasional instance of antisemites using the inevitable, overwhelming Israeli retaliation as an excuse to air their hateful politics. I was prepared to see both the well-meaning but ignorant and the malicious alike sharing tweets from antisemitic pro-Palestine accounts, spreading and normalizing low-grade, subtle antisemitism. Make no mistake, this should have been condemned. Antisemitism, like all bigotries, has no 'safe' level. There is no background level of antisemitism that society should just accept as normal. But I was more focused on the inevitable cacophony of suffering that Israel would almost certainly begin meting out, and so I failed to act.

The fatal blow to my denial was the increasing prevalence of the use of quotation marks around the word "Israel" and "Israeli". The first few times I saw this, I didn't really understand what it meant. Still laboring under the belief that antisemitism was a manageable problem on the left, I was certain that most of the users on this site, well-intentioned, goodhearted, critically thinking people that they were, would have recognized and called out even disguised antisemitism before it took over a good 20-40% of all posts about the conflict. I was a damn naive fool. For those, like past me, who have not cottoned on to the meaning of the quotation marks, they have become a way to express the denial of the legitimacy or even existence of, individually or all together, the State of Israel, the Israeli people, or the right of either Jews or Israelis to identify as Israelis.

CONGRATULATIONS TUMBLR! You have successfully revived from depths of 4chan neo-Nazi boards the (((fucking echoes))).

Are you serious? Are you fuckers for real? This, right here, encapsulates the pitch-black absurdity of this whole situation and why I remained in denial for so long. Never, in a million years, would I imagine that the proudly pro-Social Justice, anti-fascist, 100% Certified SAFE-SPACE(tm) website would end up using the same language as the goddamn Nazis on 4chan. I thought this website was smarter than that. But noooo, it turns out that I was a damn naive fool.

This was where the post was originally going to end. I say my piece, hope to change a few minds, and commit myself to actually fighting antisemitism instead of sitting back and dismissing the problem. But I figure, while I'm here and while I still have the driving forces of anger and guilt pushing me along, I may as well put pen to paper and spew forth my other thoughts on the ongoing crisis. I am thus compiling a much longer post detailing my thoughts on some aspects of the current situation. [EDITED ~1:25 AM GMT, 5 Dec 2023: add link to finished post] That post will definitely be long, probably be angry, possibly wrong on some aspect of fact, and will absolutely be pretentious, preachy, self-righteous and hubristic to a positively Hellenistic degree. Brief, non-comprehensive summary so you can decide whether or not get mad at me ahead of time;

Israel does apartheid, or near enough for government work.

Israel is definitely conducting a campaign of forced displacement, possibly amounting to ethnic cleansing, but I remain unconvinced of the claim of genocide.

Hamas may or may not be a anti-colonialist revolutionary group, but it definitely is an antisemitic terrorist organization with genocidal aspirations and actively supporting them is morally indefensible. Yes, this includes the Al-Qassam Brigades.

Anti-colonial and other revolutionary movements do in fact have fundamental moral obligations and suffering oppression does not give you carte blanche to do terrorism, even when an oppressor attempts to render peaceful opposition impossible. There is a middle ground between peaceful marching and 850+ dead civilians; aim for that.

The left is just as prone to unhinged conspiracism as the right.

Verify your sources, for fuck's sake.

Use nuance. It won't kill you.

There's more, but it's a little difficult to summarize an unfinished post. If you want to argue with any of these points, go ahead, just keep in mind that a longer, more comprehensive post is in the works that might have the answer to your argument/complaint/insult/intellectual disagreement. If that post isn't up by midnight GMT on Friday, assume I forgot about it and argue away. In conclusion, antisemitism is bad, apartheid is also bad, Tumblr is a hellsite (derogatory), "From the river to the sea" is, in fact, antisemitic, seriously, stop saying it, take Jews seriously when they warn you about antisemitism instead of writing them off like a damn naive fool, and last but not least, free Palestine.

[transmutationisms]

could you talk more on eds and biopolitics?

sure, so this is broad strokes and it's also worth reiterating that the energy deficit characteristic of EDs can have a lot of different causes besides intentional food restriction—food insecurity is a huge and underrecognised factor here but there are many others. so when i talk about intentional restriction and the desire to be thin / lose weight, i'm not suggesting these are universal characteristics or causes of EDs.

anyway though, in the context of discussing these things, and particularly the relationship between 'diet culture' and EDs, a perennial frustration to me is that i often hear people fall back on the idea that the desire to be thin comes about as a result of the beauty standards perpetuated in mass media, fashion adverts, &c, without any subsequent interrogation of why it is that beauty itself is now so heavily dependent on thinness. after all, plenty of people have pointed out this is not a universal; beauty varies in different times and places, what is described or depicted as beautiful in historical records doesn't necessarily have much overlap with today's hegemonic standards, and so forth.

so when historicising this phenomenon it becomes very clear that the euro/anglo standard of thinness as beauty is, one, part of the ideological apparatus justifying colonialism thru the creation of race and white supremacy. sabrina strings and da'shaun harrison have written on this. two, the thin ideal is also inextricably tied up in medical discourses defining the ideal body as one that is economically productive, with the promise being that if the populace can be transformed into 'healthy',*** useful, hardworking citizens, the state benefits. control of bodyweight is therefore certainly a means of demonstrating one's supposed self-control, moral discipline, &c, but it is also a demand expressed in medical terms: these two discourses merge and overlap, and are both part of the capitalist state's transformation of its citizenry into a biological resource that can be controlled, managed, and exploited to bourgeois ends (profit): hence, biopolitics.

(***the story of how 'health' itself comes to be so dependent on thinness is obviously a critical piece of all this but this post is long as shit already so suffice it to say that this conflation is also not obvious, necessary, universal, &c &c)

medico-political discourses in the 19th century tended to talk about the dangers of both over- and under-weight more than what we hear now; similarly, if you think about something like wilbur atwater's calorie-value charts, these were explicitly intended to guide labourers to the most calorie-dense foods, because to atwater the central danger to be avoided was starvation among the workforce. these days in wealthy countries like the us, you are much more likely to hear about weight management in the context of demands to reduce; this is of course following moves like the WHO declaring an 'obesity epidemic' in 1997, and the rise in the usa of more explicitly nationalist, militaristic weight-loss rhetoric in the post-9/11 era.

however, my position is that these demands for thinness, and the beauty standard that follows and justifies them, are not a departure from earlier 19th- and 20th-century scientific nutrition advice, just an evolution that, for a multitude of reasons (politics, medical professional interests, insurance company practices, &c) has simply come to focus more on the ostensible economic and national threat posed by fatness. the underlying logic bears the biopolitical throughline: the state has, or ought to have, an interest in enforcing the health of its population, and as part of this demands that you the individual surveil and alter your weight according to the scientific guidelines du jour.

this is fertile ground for the development of what, in extreme form, we regard as ED pathology. first, because even the most purely 'health'-motivated individual engaging in the required degree of bodily monitoring and caloric restriction is liable to respond to energy deficit in ways that can become diagnosably distressing. second, because the morals of 'health' are never far from standards of beauty; thinness is sold in overtly profitable ways (the diet and weight-loss industries) and furthermore, our idea of beauty is often a kind of post hoc justification for the thinness already being demanded by state and medical authorities. which is really just to say, beauty is part of the ideological superstructure both resulting from and invoked as a justification for the material conditions of capitalist biopolitics. again this is very broad strokes, but imo it is a much more useful framework to understand EDs than simply presenting them as a result of desiring thinness because it is glorified in The Media, because... reasons (essentially the rené girard model, lol).

[balioc]

Thoughts on the Barbie Movie

Hoo boy. Here we go.

This is long. Spoilers abound.

I

The movie is not, in any normal sense, a Barbie movie (like this or this or this or whatever). It is not a story of Barbie doing the kinds of things that Barbie does in stories. It is an endlessly postmodern and self-referential movie about Barbie, which is to say, about the Barbie franchise and its role in culture. Which is, at least plausibly, an interesting thing for a movie to be.

You probably knew all that already. But it does give us a baseline of "this movie kind of had to be political and discourse-y, one way or another." Or even, to be more specific: "to some large extent this movie had to be about feminism, explicitly, if it was going to exist at all." How could you talk meaningfully about Barbie's role in culture without touching on that stuff?

II

The evaluative TLDR:

Barbie is very ambitious, and in many places very fun. It is also deeply confused, and fragmented, about what it's trying to say and do. Often it raises genuinely interested problems/scenarios and then totally fails to address them, or else addresses them in ways that are incoherent. The text knows that it's doing this, and on several occasions kind of apologizes for it; a couple of times it more or less looks into the camera and says "sorry, we're not going to deal with this properly;" but, well, that's not a substitute for dealing with things properly.

There is also a streak of genuine political nastiness running through the film, in a place where the story really cannot afford it. It...doesn't match up, tonally or thematically, with some of the surrounding material. I have no background at all in cinematic stratigraphy, but I would be fascinated to learn about Barbie's editorial history, because I have the vague sense that a more-cogent (and more-interesting) story got hacked apart and then Frankensteined together into something much cheaper and worse.

III

The opening sequence of the movie is wild. You've seen most of it -- or you can, if you haven't, and you want to -- because it is the film's first teaser trailer. Girls are playing listlessly with baby dolls; a giant Barbie appears like the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey; and then the girls enter a frenzy of destruction, bashing their baby dolls' heads against the ground.

I don't know whether I would have found it as disturbing as I did, if I didn't actually have a baby of my own. But speaking from the standpoint of a parent...yeah, wow, it's more viscerally horrific than most actual horror I've seen recently. The narration says some stuff about Barbie providing a new and more rewarding set of imagination games to play, but the visuals by themselves tell a message loud and clear, which is: Barbie will turn your daughters into infanticidal maenads. It wouldn't need any editing at all to be part of a shock-you-silly Reefer-Madness-y moral panic film.

Which is really good! And really interesting! It starts us off on an undeniable thematic note: there is something primal and powerful and very dangerous about Barbie.

IV

The very best part of the movie is probably the part that comes right after the opening, when we explore the movie's depiction of "Barbieland" by going through Barbie's Typical Day, before we get into any of the notional plot or metaphysics. It's joyful and charming in a consistent way. The gags are (mostly) great. The movie is in love with its base premise, and that love is palpable.

This sequence makes one thing very clear:

Barbie treats Ken like absolute dogshit. She is a bad girlfriend.

And it's taken seriously. I mean, it's played for laughs, almost everything in this movie is played for laughs, but...it's not mean-spirited, not here. It's not, like, "ha ha, Ken, what a contemptible loser." He's Pierrot, asking for very basic forms of affection and attention and respect, and getting the door slammed in his face over and over. It's honestly kind of heartbreaking.

That colors everything that comes later.

The movie doesn't forget this, or fail to acknowledge it. At the end, after everything, Barbie does apologize to Ken for her treatment of him. It's a halfhearted and supremely unsatisfying kind of apology, especially in context, but...it's there, in so many words! I'm not making it up! This thematic foundation was laid down, not-very-subtly, right at the beginning!

V

This movie, which is at least trying to be ambitious, is juggling a million themes. Many of them are dumb at their core, and have no real promise; many of them lack any kind of narrative synergy with the others. But there are at least two which, I believe, (a) are genuinely worthwhile individually and (b) work well together in a story.

One is: What does it mean to be a symbol rather than a person? To exist, not for your own sake, but for the sake of influencing the dreams and culture of entities that you don't know and can't really understand?

The other is: What is the proper ordering of the relationship between Barbie and Ken?

I've seen a number of Takes in which people say, essentially: Couldn't this have ended with the Barbies and the Kens just being decent to each other and treating each other like humans? Couldn't there have been equality and mutual respect, instead of the weird uncomfortable girlboss-supremacist stuff that we got? And I sympathize with that impulse tremendously, but the honest answer has to be: No. We cannot have simple equality and esteem between Barbie and Ken, not in a movie like this. That would be a lie. Because this is a movie about Barbie-as-symbol, and when you're looking at Barbie through that lens, it is true and unavoidable that Ken is an appendage and an afterthought. You can have toys for boys; you can have dolls for boys (even if you call them "action figures" or whatever); for that matter, you can have dolls of boys for girls, so that girls can tell stories centering on male characters; but that's not what Ken is, and never has been. There are no Ken stories, and no one particularly wants them. Ken exists to be Barbie's boyfriend.

(One of the most painful moments of the movie comes during the resolution wrapup. Ken wails to Barbie that he has no identity outside her. She says, basically, "you have to find one, because I'm leaving you." And he...acts like he's had an epiphany, and does a little silly celebration. But his "insight" is just literally "I'm Ken," there's absolutely nothing there, and of course it's the most hollow and awful thing in the world because he really does have no identity outside her.)

VI

The movie's metaphysics are not even slightly consistent. The nature of Barbieland, and the ways that it affects and is affected by the real world, are completely different in every scene. In large part because the film can't ever pass up a gag, whether or not it's funny, no matter how much damage it does to the narrative and the theming overall.

The worst part is that the movie is not capable of saying anything remotely coherent about the real world, because its version of the "real world" is as weird and fake as its Barbieland. Will Ferrell's CEO of Mattel character is more of an absurd cartoon than any of the Barbies or Kens. Mattel HQ is some kind of surreal labyrinth tower out of The Matrix. A random receptionist can handle herself like James Bond in a car chase, for reasons that are [handwaved in a gag].

VII

So. Yes. There is the sequence in the third act where Ken takes over Barbieland with the power of patriarchy. This is pretty much as bad as it can be. And I say this as someone who thinks that the movie probably did actually need a plot thread doing roughly that kind of thing.

Almost as bad as it can be. The wannabe-patriarch Kens are gleefully goofy in a way that you can't help but love, or at least, I couldn't help but love it. Which has something to do with the writing and something to do with the charisma of all the Ken actors. The main Ken, Ryan Gosling's Ken, really seems to believe that being a successful patriarch has a lot to do with riding majestic horses and wearing a giant fur coat without a shirt, and when he takes over Barbie's Dream House he names it Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House -- that kind of thing.

But. Apart from that, it's real unfortunate. The justification for Ken's ability to conquer Barbieland with patriarchy, instantly and effortlessly, is -- in almost so many words -- they had no defenses against it, it was like the American Indians encountering smallpox. I...don't think I need to spell out the problems with that.

Worse yet, the whole sequence is soaked in, uh, let's call it "2014-era upper-middle-class social-status-oriented feminism." The real bad behavior on the part of the Kens, the stuff they do when they're not being adorably weird, is: mansplaining their extensive opinions about cars and movies, and wanting to show off how helpful and knowledgeable they are to "damsels" who are having trouble using machines or computers. Apparently that's the real problem at hand, the causus belli of the gender wars. The way that you deprogram a patriarchy-brainwashed Barbie is by...ranting to her about the stereotypical social irritations of upper-middle-class women (e.g. "you have to keep yourself thin but not act like you care about being thin," "you have to be a confident leader but also be nurturing and supportive," etc.) [note that the Barbies of Barbieland have never encountered these irritations, at least not at the hands of men]. And the girlboss victory montage consists of having the Barbies put on deceptive manipulative bimbo acts to stroke the Kens' egos, which sure is one way to depict girlboss feminist victory.

But the most unforgivable thing of all is the depiction of the patriarchy-brainwashed Barbies. They're lad-magazine caricatures, endlessly offering their Kens "brewski beers," dressing up as French maids, gazing on in cow-eyed adoration as their Kens mansplain stuff to them.

Barbie does, in fact, have a problematic history with the patriarchy. And it does not look like that.

VIII

@brazenautomaton:

Barbie isn’t someone who had to fight through the patriarchy to be seen as good enough to be an astronaut even though she’s a woman. Barbie’s a fucking astronaut because she’s fucking Barbie of course she’s good enough to be an astronaut.

That is...one aspect of the deep Barbie lore. It is the Barbie-nature that Mattel was trying to push, as far back as my own childhood; it's certainly the Barbie-nature that Mattel is trying to push in this movie. But there is another side to Barbie, even older and even more fundamental than Senator Astronaut Veterinarian Barbie, and you can't make a postmodern movie-about-Barbie without addressing it.

This is Barbie the fashion doll. The Barbie who is an icon of ultra-consumerist teenage girlhood, whose life is defined by her fancy clothes and her fancy car. The Barbie whose most salient traits are her hourglass figure and her long blonde hair and her feet that are always posed to fit into high heels. The Barbie of "math class is tough!" The Barbie who is kinda vapid and shallow and, yes, boy-crazy.

How can you tell a story about Barbie wrestling with the culture of patriarchy, and not talk about that? How can you depict Barbie falling victim to the patriarchy and have it look nothing like that?

...the movie does bring up the specter of Vapid Consumerist Barbie, briefly. When Margot Robbie's Barbie first comes to the real world and meets with the sullen teenage daughter character, she has a litany of That Thing thrown in her face, and it makes her sad. But nothing is ever done with it, and it goes nowhere.

IX

And it could all have fit together so well. That's the hell of it.

You can imagine the version of the story in which Ken conquers Barbieland with patriarchy, because the Barbies are actually vulnerable to patriarchal narratives, because Vapid Consumerist Barbie is the chthonic serpent that gnaws at the foundations of Senator Astronaut Veterinarian Barbie civilization. He successfully makes them all forget that they're senators and astronauts and veterinarians, and turns them into airheaded teenage fashionistas who think that math class is tough.

And this avails him, and the other Kens, nothing. Even within the "patriarchal" version of Barbieland, Ken is still an afterthought and an appendage. He still gets treated like dogshit, just in a different idiom.

Because the thing that has always been true of Barbie, though every age and every phase of her mythos, is: she is the main character of her own story.

This is what the movie was telling us all the way back in the horrific 2001-pastiche prologue, right? Even when Barbie was just a swimsuit model, the point was that she let girls tell stories about themselves (or idealized/aspirational versions of themselves), not about boys or babies. That is a truer, and more powerful, feminist message about the meaning of Barbie than any message the movie actually bothers conveying.

The gag scene practically writes itself: the brainwashed Barbies are sitting around in a giggly slumber-party huddle talking about how dreamy Ken is, and actual Ken cannot get a word in edgewise, he can't even get them to notice he's there, because even Vapid Consumerist Barbie is fundamentally centered in her own life. Her narrative is not about a boy, it's about the experience of being a girl (mostly engaging with other girls) who likes thinking and talking about boys. Which is very much beside the point, if you started out with the complaint that your girlfriend never paid any attention to you.

Patriarchy hurts men too, indeed.

X

The movie ends, as I've intimated, in a disappointing squidge of thematic confusion. Barbie announces that she never really loved Ken, and leaves him, because...well, because these days the smart-set target audience is allergic to romantic narratives that Produce the Couple, as far as I can tell. Then she goes to the real world and becomes a real girl, a move that means nothing and is nonsensical even by the standards of the Barbie metaphysics, because the storytellers don't know how to end her arc and Becoming a Real Girl is the sort of thing that feels like a meaningful conclusion.

The Kens...sigh...the Kens ask for equal rights in Barbieland, more or less, and get told, "nah, but we'll throw you some bones." And they're happy with this, more or less, because they're dumb and don't really care. The narrator says, approximately, "maybe someday they'll make as much progress as women have in the real world." Haw haw.

It's probably too much to hope for a movie like this to be willing to say something substantive about responsibility and kindness in relationships. It's almost certainly too much to hope for a movie like this to be willing to say something about the nature of love symbols and love narratives. But all the pieces really were there, laid out very conspicuously. The movie could have wrapped up with: Ken doesn't need to be more important than Barbie, he doesn't even need to be as important as Barbie, he just needs to be treated with human decency. And if little girls are going to play with Barbies, and fantasize about having cute guys hanging all over them -- maybe they should have functional models of romance and human connection in which to root their fantasies, and not terrible ones.