#the way they phrase it like its this crazy insane thing that this company like. invented. like this isnt just-

[kaeyapilled]

when someone speaks about some discourse or other and you honestly agree with their points but the way they phrase it is so obnoxious and dumb

[marsupials-of-mars]

Was thinking about @ckret2 's bill when i wrote this, but it applies to bill more generally. I think the main thing people pick up on, maybe subconsciously, about their bill that makes him feel so accurate is that he feels.

A lot of people (and most people are guilty of this including me whether they mean to or not) tend to write him as a tragic immortal? In the sense that he's been beaten down by time and learned never to care about people, and has lost the ability to care.

And the first part of that is true!

He HAS learned never to care about people! In the tbob love page, he says its stupid to tie yourself to a mortal in a way where your happiness depends on them. He's LEARNED this. But he has NOT lost the ability to care. And he DOES care despite knowing he shouldn't.

He interacts with people genuinely, he legitimately enjoys the company of "lesser" mortal species, he has fun, he thinks about people when they're gone, he's taken lovers, he speaks in phrases hes picked up from past earth decades because he likes how they sound (ya dig?).

And some people are frustrated when he's written suave and unfeeling for this reason, because he is a goofball. But the thing is, he DOES act, in a way, suave and unfeeling when it comes to situations like Ford and Dipper. He plays up his "immortal deity" persona, constantly reminding them of all the knowledge he knows, PROVING his value to them.

But he gets mad! He falls in love! He jokes around because its fun! He gets stupid and reckless when he's upset! He burns bridges when he doesnt get his way! These are all insANELY short-sighted things for a trillion-year-old to care about!

This is why he can relate to people, and why he acts like a kid sometimes. I firmly believe that he stopped aging the day he destroyed his dimension (which is basically canon i think) not only physically but mentally. He legitimately cannot mature, cannot gain wisdom no matter how much he tries.

He has a lot of INTELLIGENCE and KNOWLEGE, but its like giving a child the library of alexandria and infinite time to explore. Sure theyll probably learn some things out of boredom or curiosity, but theres no curriculum. They COULD read it all, but why would they? That's boring and dumb and they want to climb the shelves and make book forts instead.

Now, more specifically about ckret2's Goldie:

He describes himself as a consumate extrovert. He hangs out with mabel and watches tv and goes to the Rainbow club. And while he does these things, he isnt thinking "this is so below me, why should i care about any of this?" He's just trying to have fun, and is knowingly fulfilling his social needs. He believes he and ford WERE friends.

And the most important part of this that im always thinking about is Bill claiming that being friends, enjoying peoples company, loving, playing, and all that is not mutually exclusive with being an all powerful god of destruction to be worshipped by all.

Which makes sense! Because he is INTELLIGENT and he knows that he's more powerful than these people, and he SHOULD be a being that demands their worship, and he needs to find something that lasts, and makes sense in the wake of INFINITY. But he also has the mind of a mortal, and he thinks the same way he always has. And with both of these insights, the ONLY thing that MAKES SENSE is to have his cake and eat it too. Focus on the big picture while also enjoying the present, SIMULTANEOUSLY.

Manipulating ford to his own end that leads him closer to his forever plan, while also bringing him to karaoke and falling in love. Securing his rule and reputation over the nightmare realm, being feared throughout the multiverse, having his fingers in as many pies as possible-- while partying with his henchmaniacs, drinking out of solo cups and flashing the cops.

Its the only thing that stops him from going crazy. If you have a mortal mind thats built to love and lose and feel and party and wisecrack, and you relinguish it to the horrifying prospect of timelessness, if you're always looking at the existential...you are not going to last a trillion years.

[shadowflash]

many thoughts on claude x shez but i need to elaborate on that in some obnoxiously long readmore in the future. but maybe i wont.

i'm going to leave it at: i like how their dynamic feels like a contradiction in that they're naturally spiraling towards one another (as exemplified by the ways that they do manage to open up to the other person), but they don't let themselves get too close whether it be by intention or as a consequence of their individual natures + circumstances at hand.

but there are moments where the gap closes, not through something like pouring their heart out for the one another and revealing every little thing that they hide away, but through the ways that they are vulnerable to each other.. in a manner that could be interpreted as the distance being rendered irrelevant in such moments.. or because they're willing to lean on each other while respecting the wall which stands between them.

okay you know what there is more. sorry. but also..

i really liked the fight that they have in ch9 of GW, where we see shez feel betrayed by claude's scheme, which itself was supposed to protect his allies to begin with. i think it depicts how, at the heart of things, they want the same thing from different angles..? like: claude doesn't want to risk the lives of his closest companions and is willing to bloody his hands for it, while in shez's mind (and everyone else tbf) claude really needs to place more faith in the strength of his friends who fight tooth and nail for him.

the shared sentiment of "have faith in me!!" is an interesting foundation to build conflict from. like, from claude's perspective he's trying to protect his friends in the way he feels obliged to from his position, while shez doesn't necessarily try to throw his life away for anyone but does engage in some dangerous shit for the sake of those they care about. it's easy to see them fight over this more often in this spirit like:

"you shouldn't worry about me so much. we're friends but the thing about having no strings attached is that nothing would really change if i died." (read: unlike you, i'm not that important of a person to have around. people don't depend on me like they do on you. it's not like i'm interested in dying, but it's a very real possibility that you have to accept as the leader!) while claude, who definitely understands this, is the obviously type who can't accept this at all and does whatever he can to prevent scenarios where his friends are placed in any kind of legitimate risk--especially for the sake of someone like someone like shez, who is insanely strong on their own, but it's easy to see claude worrying more for someone like that in a "what if their luck runs out one day.." kind of way WHILE ALSO getting really upset / flustered on shez's behalf in the manner of "You need to treasure your life more! Everyone--I would care if you died! Do you really think so little of me? That I would even accept the possibility of you-... I.." <- AUUUUUUGHHHH. something like this. i'm dying.

LIKE. they would butt heads about this constantly and it shows how much they care for each other. it makes me feel crazy over them. they're cute. of course they're good friends but that specific interaction kicks off how they make for a really interesting pairing. [SHATTERING INTO A MILLION PIECES]. [DIES]. [EXPLOSION].

i'm bad at phrasing things like this but i really like pairings with this type of dynamic. they're on the same page but also not really.. but they are.. and they're vulnerable to each other in ways they're not with other people, but they're not necessarily intimate in the more traditional sense.. they have this giant near-impenetrable wall between each other but they communicate through its gaps... and they're kind of dependent on each other's company, but kind of not.. but also.. but also. <- insane person writing.

i feel like there are more coherent ways of talking about them, but i need to finish my repeat run of GW to get everything together. i may not have all the puzzle pieces i need to put together a cohesive... explanation(?) for why i think they work but this picture that i am able to construct looks pretty good. i like how they talk to each other.. i like how familiar they sound when they talk to one another and how shez's straight-forward nature is a comfort to claude, someone who was forced to keenly recognize things like deceit and hidden intentions to survive in his position. like.. they could not be anymore different when it comes to things like personality.. upbringing.. etc etc and yet they are able to come together as kindred spirits (in being 'outsiders') and manage a very sweet relationship (in my eyes) that dances between being super casual and super intimate in their own sort of way. i like them.

i hope we get s-supports in the future.. or at least some kind of cutscene stuff that is functionally the same (as in: fanservice. ALSO: if it's not explicitly romantic = no stupid gender lock.) so i can see these two wiggle around on the screen while they talk about their exchange gifts -> the whistle + notes on poisons. it would be so, sooo cute. claude's letter is good.. but i would also like to see shez properly respond to it somehow.

[r3almellow]

MLQC Boys And The Domestic Life

I kept this as PG-13 as possible.  You guys know I can be a little...naughty with my HC’s but I know that isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so I try not to do too much. I apologize if you were hoping something else! Apologies for the typos and such! 

Warning: Slight Spoilers for those who know nothing about their backstories or current events!

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Kiro

Kiro’s life is crazy enough as it is, so coming home to you is a nice change of pace. No cameras flashing in his face, no overly excited fans, and no manager to hound him about what he can and can’t eat. It’s just you and him just the way he likes it.

Your boy is a gamer and will always try to pull you into whatever he’s playing. 

He will buy a lot of two player games just so you can play with him. 

If its a single player game you enjoy watching him play! He’ll even offer to teach you how to play!

Since he’s also a huge fan of comics he’ll talk your ear off about them! 

Bonus points if you’re a comic book lover and/or a gamer too! 

Will fall even more in love with you if you go out of your way to buy things he’s interested in. 

“I got you this limited edition Iron Man statue! Like it?” 

He’ll marry you right then and there! 

Kiro is very playful so expect tons of play fights! Tickle fights, pillow fights, and wrestling which...turns into....you know....

Kiro enjoys going grocery shopping with you. Of course he has to be in disguise in order to shop with you in peace, but he enjoys the company while he buys things that would get him into trouble with Savin. 

However, Savin has nothing to worry about when it comes to Kiro’s eating habits, because while you’re pretty lenient with Kiro and often him join his mischievous activities, you do a great job with following his diet routine. 

You’ll sometimes join him on his diets to support him. Its hard on you, especially when the sight of french fries makes your mouth water. 

“See, honey, drinking a protein shake isn’t so bad!” 

“But I want a milkshake, barbecued ribs and a nice juicy burger!!!!” Poor baby just wants to eat!

You’re normally the one that cooks mainly because Kiro never has time to do it himself and almost always settles for something quick or whatever his nutritionist shoves down his throat.  If he does have time off you both cook together. 

If Kiro ends up breaking his diet you join him on his workouts. Kiro doesn’t mind because there’s something about you being all sweaty and panting heavily that really gets him going. 

 “I’m sweaty and gross...” 

“What a coincidence?! I’m all sweaty and gross too! Lets take a shower together.” 

In the bedroom, Kiro is definitely a cuddler and it doesn’t matter who cuddles first as long as he can feel you against him. 

Because of his busy schedule Kiro becomes extremely needy. Both in the sexual and non-sexual sense. He hates being away from you for too long and calls you almost everyday while he’s away. 

He’ll be in the middle of rehearsals while FaceTiming you and Savin is like “BOY IF YOU DON’T STOP WITH THAT PUPPY LOVE BS AND FINISH THIS DANCE NUMBER I’LL...” 

If your relationship isn’t public yet, Kiro won’t do too much, but he will steal kisses when he thinks no one is looking. You two have been caught fooling around by Savin a few times, which always ends with him scolding you both. 

But once you go public, EXPECT TONS OF KISSES AND HUGS ANYWHERE AND EVERYWHERE! THIS MAN DOESN’T CARE. 

He wants the world to know how much he loves you and will continue to broadcast it until hell freezes over. 

Will put his fans in their place if they try anything with you. Your sunshine ain’t afraid to lay down the law!

Top 3 Pet Names: Miss Chips, Honey, and Cutie. Honorable Mention: Cookie

Gavin

As you know, Gavin’s upbringing wasn’t exactly the best and seeing what his mom went through, he never wants to put you through that. 

This man practically worships you! You’re everything he’s ever wanted in a partner so he’ll do anything to keep you in his life and happy. 

Casual dates. Nothing too fancy unless its a special occasion like a birthday or maybe....a wedding proposal?! 

Aside from that, Gavin’s pretty simple and often lets you take the lead which you find infuriating since you want him to have some sort of input in decision making when it comes to little things.

Gavin is the cook of the household mainly because you think he’s the better cook. If you make such claims, Gavin will always say that he prefers to eat whatever you make.

In bed, Gavin likes to hold you tightly from behind with his faced buried in your hair. His favorite position is where you’re hugging him and he has his head pressed against your chest. Its easier to hear your heartbeat that way. 

If you stroke his hair while holding him then he’s a goner. He’ll be out like a light and you’ll just watch how adorable he looks sleeping against you.

Days where you’re both home are referred to as “Lazy Days.” You’ll sit around, do absolutely nothing, and enjoy each other’s company. You may wash Sparky after its gone through a full week of riding through the city, but sometimes the laziness is just too strong. 

Doesn’t help when Gavin has you in his arms. The entire day can escape you when you’re in such a comfortable position. 

As for PDA, this man doesn’t care who’s watching! If he feels like kissing you then he’ll kiss you and he’s all about hand holding. If you’re uncomfortable with such gestures then he’ll refrain from doing so.

Until you say otherwise, you will be getting a lot of affection out in the open! If people glare, then he’ll just glare right back and go back to loving on you. 

Being in love with you and not caring what people think isn’t a crime, right?! 

Obviously, he won’t do anything too wild, but Gavin can be a bit mischievous when he wants to be. 

He’s not as bad as Kiro in the cheeky department, but a lot of the “accidental” touches aren’t accidents at all! 

Always your protector. Is always up for kicking someone’s ass if they look at you funny. He’d go to jail for you or...at least make whatever he’s about to do look like an accident.

Clingy Baby #2!

When he’s gone for long periods of time, he clings on to you and never lets you go once he returns. 

Holding you in his arms while you’re trying to cook, casually playing with your hands as the two of you watch TV, and heated make out sessions that often end in a night of passion. 

No one would have guessed Gavin could turn into a touch starved crazy man. But could you blame him? The things he has to go through on missions really puts him in a mood. He needs your love and affection after a long mission. 

Prefers to spoil you instead of the other way around, but let’s you pamper him. He hasn’t been shown any form of affection since his mother died, so bare with him! 

Gavin has never told you this outright, but you’re the closest thing to a home he has ever had in a very long time. Wherever you are, he wants to be right by your side. 

Top 3 Pet Names:  Babe/Baby, Beautiful, and Angel

Victor

Victor loves taking you out whether its to nice restaurants or out of the country. 

Has no problem dropping thousands on you because you deserve the world. You’ll have to tell him to calm down with how much he spoils you, but he most likely won’t listen. 

Of course he’s not completely insane and has some level of restraint. 

Ever the professional, there is a difference between how Victor treats you at work compared to when you’re home. 

He always wants you to be at your best and doesn’t want you slacking off just because you’re with him.  

At home, Victor is a way more affectionate with you. The first few times he pulled you in for a loving embrace or a kiss, you had to do a double take. This isn’t the cold-hearted CEO who picked a part your report and verbally ripped it to shreds just hours before!

Victor does most of the cooking, but if you want to help him he won’t complain. Just listen to the directions he gives you and he won’t critique you.

He does appreciate it when you cook for him. Sometimes you’ll wake up before him just to prepare a nice breakfast and his heart just swells at the sight of you doing your best to make scrambled eggs. 

“Its a little runny, but edible.” Wow...thank’s, honey. 

Victor loves taking you to Souvenir so he can cook for you. Lunch dates and dinner dates are sometimes had there. 

Sleeping wise, Victor will entwine his fingers with yours and hold your hand over his chest as he sleeps on his back and you sleep on your side. He will never admit it, but he’s a big fan of being the big spoon especially after a night of intimacy. 

Will teach you French if you ask! Will sometimes tease you by throwing out random French phrases and if you figure out what he says he’ll give you a reward!

TRIPLE POINTS IF YOU RESPOND BACK IN FRENCH. Leave him shook!

Your man is a workaholic! You sometimes have to convince him to sleep after he spends countless hours working. Even on his days off his eyes are either glued to his phone or his computer. 

He’ll be reluctant, but he’ll drop whatever he’s doing if you’re adamant about him getting rest or spending time with you.  

If he’s already in bed looking over paperwork you can just snuggle up to him to distract him from what he’s doing. Of course he’ll complain, but all of that stops the minute he wraps his arms around you. 

Victor isn’t one for too much PDA, but he will do small things. 

For example, you’ll be at a company event, he’ll squeeze your hand gently and kiss the back of it just to see you blush.

Speaking of events, you attend all of the banquets with him. Everyone knows who you are and who you’re with. They won’t dare try any funny business with you.

 There is a big part of him that likes to brag about you to his business associates. 

“They saved a dying company through hard work and determination, has to deal with me on a daily basis, and continues to persevere even when the odds are against them. They’re one of a kind.” 

Top 3 Pet Names: Idiot/Dummy, Dear and Darling(Victor normally uses nicknames when you’re in an intimate setting and very rarely) 

Lucien

Ever since he was young Lucien has known nothing but hardships and just how cruel and twisted the world was. 

Having you in his life really changes his perspective on the world. Who would have thought that a man like him would have someone as precious as you in his life?

Your dates consist of art exhibits, aquariums, and picnics in the park. Honestly Lucien prefers private and more intimate dates with you. It gives him a chance to learn more about you and to really focus on you without the distraction of the outside world. 

You cook together and its pretty much a perfect balance. You learn different recipes together and think of it as a bonding experience.

You often visit him on campus for lunch dates and to work on whatever project you’ve roped him into. 

You’re not sure why, but his students practically adore you. You’ve heard them whisper about your future with the popular professor. Talks of marriage often fills the room whenever they catch wind of you being on campus for the day. 

You find it embarrassing, but Lucien only laughs off the murmurs of his students. 

They have active imaginations, but he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t think of spending the rest of his life with you.

Lucien is fine with PDA. He’ll hold your hand and give you gentle kisses. He’ll tease you a lot!! There’s never a time where he doesn’t have you blushing. 

He enjoys catching you off guard! Lucien will even go as far as to steal a quick kiss while you’re rambling about how much stress you’re under with work. 

Lucien’s favorite thing to do with you is to relax in a nice warm bubble bath. It only turns steamy 70% of the time but Lucien truly enjoys little intimate moments like that with you. 

When it comes to sleeping, Lucien really likes it when you’re sleeping against him with your head on his chest and he has an arm around your torso.

He also likes listening to your steady breaths as you sleep. There’s something soothing about how calm you sound in your most vulnerable state. He sleeps a thousand times better when you’re with him.  

Lucien appreciates how accepting you are of him despite the fact that he’s done a lot of harm in the past. 

You trust that Lucien will never hurt you and while he knows this, he sometimes feels like he has a lot to prove. 

Deceiving you is his biggest regret and if you continue to love him, Lucien will devote his life to making you happy.

Top 3 Pet Names: My Little Fool, Love, and Silly

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Done! I really hope you like it! Want to read more of my stuff?! Please go to my MLQC masterlist here!

[tobesobri]

𝒯hank you for all the love on the first chapter, that was honestly the last thing I expected, and it really does mean the world to me that you guys like this story. I’m going to include the taglist at the end, but if you’d like to be added for future updates, go here and put in your tumblr URL. Okay, anyways, this chapter is very like,,, rocky and emotional so! Have fun reading :)

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

Chapter Two: Do It One More Time (3.8k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

Sneaking Harry out had been the least of her worries. Him being on her mind constantly was a much bigger cause for concern. She had trouble sleeping at night, tossing and turning and even having to wash her entire bedspread to get rid of his scent. It had been no use, however. It was like her body got a taste of something very potent and wanted it now more than ever before. 

And it didn’t take long for her to get back into her routine. To soil the pillowcases in her tears because the emptiness inside her chest had only grown tenfold after what had happened with Harry. Her muscles literally ached and her sobs almost sent her to the bathroom to hurl up an empty stomach full of knots.

Her brain had finally gotten a reprieve from its loneliness. She finally felt what it was like to have someone, even if it wasn’t real. Even if it was a mistake and even if it was fleeting. Harry had filled whatever missing parts were within her and it hurt like hell to go back to normal again.

But she wasn’t the only one. He couldn’t sleep anymore either. His house felt massive and the silence between all the walls seemed to ring just a little bit louder. He found himself buying an unnecessary amount of pillows and setting them all up on his bed just to surround himself with something. He’d been here before though. After a breakup, his least favorite part was going back to sleeping alone. He hated not having someone to hold onto. It took him weeks to get used to it last time, and to get used to the cold spots on the other side of the bed. It only took four and a half hours with Y/N to fuck him all up again.

And he really shouldn’t be doing this, but he was desperate.

“Hello?” Even her voice was a breath of fresh air for him.

“Hey, it’s uh… Harry.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you had my number.”

“Will gave it to me a while ago… for emergencies.”

Y/N took a long pause, unsure why Harry was calling her on a Thursday afternoon, completely at random. It had been almost an entire week since their… incident. Why was he calling her right now?

“So… is this an emergency?”

“Um… well, no. It isn’t.”

“So why are you calling then?”

“I was wondering um… you can say no but um… I was wondering if you wanted to… sleep with me again.” He cringed at his last few words and the way they felt like knives cutting his throat to get out. He had no better way to phrase what he wanted other than being blunt about it and admitting he wanted her up against him. He wanted more than just lifeless pillows to cuddle up to at night. 

And something about Y/N had him losing his fucking mind the past week so asking her to sleep with him seemed low on his list of crazy.

“Sorry?”

“I mean… like we did last week. I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight, just to sleep?”

“Why?” She asked, unsure why Harry fucking Styles was asking her that. Sure, they were somewhat friendly and she had thoughts about asking him the same exact thing, but it was an odd request coming from him. She was sure if he needed a cuddle buddy that he could easily find anyone else. 

But even the thought of him being like that with someone else gave her a horribly sick feeling in her stomach that she recognized immediately but could not for the life of her explain. She didn’t get jealous, ever.

He cleared his throat, “Um well… I have had a pretty hard time sleeping and then last Friday it was like… like the best sleep of my life. And this past week has been awful again. So I was just… we don’t have to if you don’t want to though. It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t have even called…”

“No.” She cut his spiraling off abruptly. “I mean… yes. I… can do that.”

He immediately let out a huge breath of air in relief but also couldn’t believe she had, yet again, agreed to another one of his stupid ideas. “I just want to let you know I’m not trying to like… get in your pants or anything. I genuinely just…” He stopped then, knowing a more believable story would be him wanting to get into her pants than what was actually going on with him.

“Just what?”

“I just need someone.” He admitted with his eyes closed tight as he laid back onto his couch. “And it’s not very easy asking people to just sleep with you.”

She let another moment of silence go by that just about tore him up. And right when he was about to ask if she was still there, he heard her voice again, as softly as ever.

“What time should I come over then?”

Harry’s house wasn’t easy to access. First, there was the entrance gate to just get into the neighborhood, which had an intimidatingly large security guard posted out front like an oversized bridge troll. Then she had to hand over her driver’s license and try to convince him she was there to see Harry, and that her name was supposed to be on his list of accepted guests. The whole thing wouldn’t seem so unbelievable to her if she wasn’t already trapped in a pit of nerves from being there in the first place.

By some miracle, however, the guard returned her ID along with a visitor’s pass and opened the gates for her. 

Then, of course, there was finding his house, which turned out to be a whole other task and a half on its own. Every house was so far from the main road due to oversized front lawns that she couldn’t read anyone’s house number unless she practically trespassed. He’d given her very vague instructions so she mostly had to rely on Google Maps. Which somehow got her to the house at the end of Spruce Street with the enormous pine tall trees and rose bushes surrounding it just like Harry had described.

She pulled into the short gap of driveway just before the tall, wooden privacy gates that hid most of his house from view. After rolling down her driver’s side window, she inputted the four-digit code he’d given her onto the pinpad. Within a few seconds the gates opened, and after a moment to ogle at his insanely beautiful house, she swallowed the pit in her throat and carefully drove onto his property as if it was made out of glass. She really did not belong there, not in her beat up 2005 Toyota, and she couldn’t afford to break anything. 

The moon was already prominent in the middle of the sky by the time she got to his front door and rang the bell. His house wasn’t at all what she expected. It was old-looking. Almost cottage-like with stone bricks and vines trickling down the architecture. She expected the most modern amenities known to man from him, but it turned out to be the polar opposite.

She stopped staring at his garden fortress of a house, with her jaw hung wide, when his door swung open. Because finally he was there, right in front of her, giving her proof that she didn’t accidentally show up at the wrong address, even though the code had worked and the house was as he described. Her anxiety was just a little extra prominent than normal.

“This is where you live?” She asked, before he even got the chance to invite her in.

He laughed, holding the door in one hand and gripping the frame with the other to keep his balance as he stood in the middle.

“Um,” he sighed, glancing up at the house, “yeah, but I’m trying to sell it soon. I bought it when I was young and impulsive.”

“Oh.” Was all she said, and he worried for a moment that he had completely lost her. That she was going to go back to never speaking a single word to him ever again. That he wasn’t anything like what she expected and it was a little too much for her to take in. 

Just like most of his previous attempts at friendships, once they got even the tiniest glimpse into his life, they either bolted or stuck around long enough to get what they wanted from him.

Instead, she met his eyes again and smiled, “Can I come in or what?”

The inside of his house, however, had been recently modernized and she wondered if Harry had made all the design decisions himself. Like if he picked out the big geometric crystal chandelier in the foyer or the white marble countertops in the kitchen. She liked it, though, it was open with tall ceilings and unlike any home she’d ever stepped foot in. Even though it reminded her what vastly different worlds she and Harry came from, she knew his personality didn’t match up to his big fancy house. 

When they settled into the kitchen, and when Harry began pouring two glasses of water for them, she set her things down on his island counter to give her shoulders a break from her heavy backpack. She knew she’d packed too much stuff, but if she was spending the night at Harry’s place, she needed her own familiar things to keep her company. 

“I was thinking…” she started, watching as he kicked the refrigerator door shut once he’d put the filtered water pitcher back on the top shelf and handed her one of the glasses. “That maybe it’s a good idea to not tell Will… or... anyone about this.”

He thought it over for a moment and then nodded in agreement, “Yeah, okay.” Averting his eyes, his mind thought of a million different things at once while he sipped on his own glass of water until another tangible question popped into his head. “So if we’re not telling them, then where do they think you are right now?”

“At a coworker’s place.”

He nodded again and for the first time around Harry, she felt so incredibly nervous. He’d made her nervous before but not like this. She’d always just avoided him and it worked her anxieties out, but there was absolutely no chance of avoiding him now. Maybe she should have just said no, but that also seemed like an implausible choice. 

“Is it alright if I like… get ready for bed? I just got off work.” 

He let out a small giggle around the brim of his glass and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll show you my room.”

And his bedroom did not, by any means, disappoint. Just the square footage of it was impressive, but her eyes were particularly drawn to his bed, and not for any other reason than the way it faced massive ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked, as it seemed, the entirety of Hollywood; and she fell in love instantly. It was mesmerizing, and she could not fathom why on earth he planned on selling. Hell if he didn’t want the house anymore, she’d take it.

“Bathroom’s over there. Make yourself at home. I’m gonna set the alarm and turn off the lights. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Nodding, she waited for him to leave before she fully lost her mind about everything. Not only was she in the nicest house she’d ever laid foot in, but she was also about to crawl back into bed with him. His king sized, fluffy-looking bed she could imagine herself getting lost in. 

She knew what they were doing was slightly out of the norm for people their own age. Most people didn’t sleep in the same bed as their friends unless they were doing something friends probably shouldn’t be doing. But the benefits of their budding friendship were a little more innocent than that to the point where even the thought of Will finding out where she was right now, while she slipped into her strawberry patterned pajama pants in Harry’s ensuite, made her lightheaded. She’d almost feel better if Will found out they were actually hooking up instead, because at least that wasn’t so… weird.

With the amount of time she spent getting herself ready, most of it being wasted on psyching herself up enough to go through with all of this, she’d become very familiar with his bathroom. He had two sinks along one wall, and massive mirrors that all faced a shower that could fit an entire army inside. The tiles were either black or white except for the blue pops of color here and there. The best part of it was the massive soaker tub in the back underneath a window that overlooked his garden. It was like he plucked a bathroom straight out of Good Housekeeping.

And of course she couldn’t let his things go unnoticed. She’d make herself a space at the empty sink nearest the door, the one that didn’t have his stuff neatly stacked around it. She eyed his small selection of colognes on a tray between the sinks while she washed her face, and couldn’t help her curiosity from checking out what brand of toothpaste he used when she started brushing her own teeth. 

Other than the little touches of Harry scattered sparingly about, however, it was almost as if no one lived there at all. And she became very familiar with how cold it all was.

It wasn’t until she turned the sink off after splashing her face, again, with ice cold water, that she heard the soft hum of a guitar from just outside the bathroom door. She wasn’t sure if he was playing, or if he had turned music on. She wasn’t even sure if Harry Styles knew how to play the guitar. She couldn’t ever remember him playing any instruments whenever he came over to work with Will, but maybe she was just tragically unobservant.

And that seemed to be the case once she finished up and went back out to find him perched on what appeared to be his side of the bed with his guitar on his lap and a leather bound notebook open in front of him.

Though before she could make out a single melody, he immediately stopped playing the second she re-entered the room.

“Sorry, you can keep… doing what you’re doing.”

He let out an exasperated laugh while she crept towards the bed on the opposite side and made note of the way he quickly hid his journal from her and stashed it into a drawer at his bedside table. Maybe she was overanalyzing things, but it seemed like whatever he was writing down was for his eyes only, and she respected that.

“I was trying to write a song… hasn’t really been working out for me recently.” He leaned away from her to put his guitar down on the floor, setting it upright against the table, and she hated the way her eyes went straight to the small sliver of skin under his shirt that was exposed when he did so. 

“Writer’s block?” She asked, slowly making her way up under the covers next to him, still feeling like she didn’t belong even though this had all been Harry’s idea to begin with. He needed someone and so did she, even if he didn’t fully know to what extent. But it felt like somehow she had tricked him into thinking the someone he needed was her.

“Sucks,” he mumbled to himself mostly, still very obviously in his own little work bubble.

“I usually just try to stop doing whatever I’m struggling with, and do something else, something I wouldn’t normally do.”

“You mean with your art stuff?” He asked and she wasn’t sure how he knew about her hobby, if Will had brought it up before, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless, that he remembered that small detail about her.

“Yeah.” She finally looked over at him, only to find him already staring at her and it weirdly made her less anxious about her current position. In his bed. In her roommate’s best friend’s bed. “If you’re stuck, you should leave it alone and write something completely out of your comfort zone. Then when you go back to where the problem was, you have a new set of eyes on it.”

He was quiet, first just listening to her speak, and then really letting her advice sink in because it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about doing, but he made mental plans to give it a try.

“I’m sorry if this is really weird, Y/N,” he began, getting her attention when he changed the subject. “I know it’s hard to believe but I’m actually horrendously alone and I guess when we slept together I didn’t feel so much that way anymore.”

“I get it, Harry.” She sighed, never wanting to fully open up to him, but feeling like it was now or never to get him to stop making it more weird by apologizing. “Makes you feel like… empty.”

“Exactly,” Harry sighed and she glanced at him when he agreed so enthusiastically. “I haven’t been that close to someone in… months,” he rolled his eyes down to meet hers again, “and I guess I just didn’t want it to be like that again.”

The look on her face alone made it easy to tell everything he said resonated with her, like he was saying exactly what she was thinking too. It broke his heart to know that she, in any way, felt like he did, but it also made him glad someone finally understood what he was going through, even if in just the slightest.

“I understand, Harry. I guess I just don’t understand why you’re alone. Can’t you have anyone you want?”

He scrunched up his face, “It’s not that easy.” He huffed, “People aren’t all that interested in me as they are getting loads of likes on Instagram and having lots of money. I mean… I haven’t had a single relationship that didn’t end the same.”

“Still,” she mumbled begrudgingly. He was still Harry Styles. People still wanted him and, even if it hadn’t turned out so well, he’d still been not alone at some point in his life, unlike her.

He raised his eyebrows, a little irritated at this point. “Okay then, why are you alone? Can’t imagine it’s that hard for you.”

She rolled her eyes away from him and hung her head  to disguise the embarrassment on her face. There were two big reasons why she was alone, and she was not about to admit them to Harry at eleven o’clock on a Thursday night.

“So what is it then?” He talked for her when he grew irritated with her silence and her inability to see his perspective on things, “Your lack of ability to talk to people? Because you have these massive walls to keep literally everyone out, including me, for the past however many months we’ve known each other?”

She shook her head and sunk deeper and deeper inside herself. This was all a mistake. It had all gone wrong because she opened her mouth and said something insensitive. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Harry.” She looked at him again finally, holding back the stupid tears trying to well up just from the mere thought of being even moderately yelled at, and especially by Harry who she’d never imagined being angry a day in his life. “But if we’re just going to sit here judge each other, I think I should go.”

“No.” He immediately reached across the king-sized space between them to grab her arm before she even considered leaving his bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell like that.” They stared at each other silently for a moment before he continued, “You don’t want to talk about it and that’s fine.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then at his hand around her arm and just how good it felt to be touched. Just to have human contact, even just something as simple as that. And then she felt just as desperate as she had when she agreed to all of this in the first place.

“Can we just go to sleep? I’m tired.”

It started out like it had before. A gap of space between them after Harry had turned out the lamp beside him. After he spent an ungodly amount of time staring out his window and listening to her breathing, and she spent the same amount of time overthinking, they both realized something wasn’t working.

“Harry?” She whispered like she was throwing out a line into a vast ocean.

“Hmm?”

“You were right… about why I’m alone. But… it’s also that no one’s ever really shown any interest in me because, um... ” she struggled, trying her damndest not to cry in front of Harry. “I’m... ugly, you know… so that’s, um...” Her voice was just a whisper she could barely even make out, but it was still the first time she’d said that to anyone before. Sure, she wasn’t facing Harry when she said it and they were in complete darkness, but it was still hard, hard enough to make her hands shake and the tears fall.

He knew it too, the way her voice wavered like he’d never heard before. He twisted his head over his shoulder to look at her, eyebrows furrowed even deeper when he saw the shadow of her hand move across her face to wipe the tears away.  

And here she was; in Harry’s bed where she thought her problems would be temporarily solved, and yet she was still crying. 

“So that’s why… I feel like I don’t let people in because I don’t want anyone to have to be stuck with me.” She finished and he flipped himself onto his back, still staring at her head like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, that she even thought that way about herself. He was sitting there in shock because, well… he had been wrong. He didn’t understand her at all. 

Without a single clue how to respond without sounding like a disingenuous asshole, he went another route rather than opening his mouth to give her unsolicited advice.

“Come ’ere.” He whispered, helping her until she was in his arms again just like before. He cradled the back of her head with one hand as she hid her face on his chest and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. Slowly, she warmed up to him and tucked her own arm around his side as they fit themselves together like puzzle pieces all over again. Except this time, they were both consciously aware of it. 

They stayed like that for a while until Harry listened to her breathing even out, and he could hardly keep his eyes open any longer. He still wanted to say a million different things, but knew it might only make it worse because his head wasn’t clear enough to say the right things. So, he just held on tight and waited for morning.

taglist: @afterstylesmadeit @cxnyon-moon @and-im-not-okay-with-it @chrryblsms @whydontharry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @idkthisisjustforfanfic @teddysoldbird @shawnsblue @thurhomish @theasstour @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @staceystoleyourheart @granolagrannie @defineharry @iambabyharry @1142590m @ashtondene @smokeinherperfume @cherryyharryy

[mipplenoop]

Chapter One: Refractory

I swiped left, I swiped right. My lips echoed those satisfying plinks and plonks as points racked up and candies dropped. There was a strange sort of comfort that came from controlling supersaturated treats on an iPhone screen, as their bright light danced on the mute concrete around me.

Though I was a prisoner, the phone made me feel free. It brought me back to all those hours at home, playing the 8-bit games that were all the rage back then - especially Sweets Smash. With Aaron, with Ruby, I remembered sitting under the dining table gathered around my brother’s old console, hiding from the discipline of our parents. Even though it was called Candy Crush now, and on a screen smaller than my palm, the feeling was the same. Just like back then, staring at those lacquered sweets made my mouth water.

Oh, how I longed for a good meal. I couldn’t recall the last time I had digested something other than salty, rubbery chicken and reheated green beans. I was so starved for something different that I could’ve eaten, say, an entire spotted hyena. Yes. I imagined myself grabbing the beast by the belly while its brethren howled and laughed, sinking my teeth into its fur and biting down through its thick, black hide. Tasting that sweet, fibrous flesh of a being inferior to me. In fact, I’d have eaten the whole pack - my stomach bubbled and churned as I immersed myself in the game, trying in vain to stave off that ever present sensation. But not a moment passed that I didn’t force myself to gulp down a torrent of saliva, lest I drown in my own starvation. At this point, the mold growing out of the cracks in the wall looked tempting. What made me, of all people, deserving of such punishment? Of such pain?

Nothing, I reminded myself. I was an honest person. I worked hard at making it in this life. I was caring, curious, and funny. Loyal. There were people who loved me. And I loved them, even to the point that I would’ve given my life for them. Sure, maybe I hadn’t always been the best I could be, but I tried. I tried so hard.

Yet in the eyes of the law, I was nothing but a killer. They - the police, the prisons, the surveillance companies, “They” with a big “T” - knew my sins, and were never going to forget. A cold, computational system never forgets. Charged on two counts of first degree murder. One count of aggravated assault.

Nobody understood that I was a victim, too. In the last moments of Duy’s life, it was me or him. Letting him live would’ve been a dark, endless pit that pulled me down forever, sinking me deeper and deeper into a suffocating void of toxicity until I died. Of abuse, or stress, or insanity, I didn’t know. But I felt it in my loins. That feeling was frustrating, and it was the only thing that hurt more than the hunger. They didn’t understand that I was more than ones and zeros. That Aaron, or even Duy was more than a statistic, more than... Fuck. The gnarled remains of my cock hurt just thinking about it. A phantom pain. Tears streamed down my pudgy cheeks, falling onto those precious candies.

I swept the tears away, but no matter how hard I tried, each move felt like a setback - a step towards loss. With each combo, blocks of chocolate grew in area, threatening to envelop my remaining freedom - eating away at the space which would allow the creation of striped candies and color bombs. Those big brown balls dotted with sprinkles of rainbow, that was what I needed to win. Just six of them, in about three times as many moves. I hoped that when I saw that victory screen, with all of the points I had won, it would be almost rewarding as a real meal - maybe I would be able to forget where I was, even just for a second. Yet those brown squares were eating away at my freedom to win, or to even try to win. It was a never ending battle for territory, where each attack that did not seek to eliminate the chocolate only facilitated in growing it.

“Your phone time is over, Gambia.”

The sound echoed through my head, disrupting the swirling thoughts that I had grown so accustomed to housing. When had he entered? I hadn’t even noticed.

Loop Liu eyed me through the bars of my cell, pelvis thrust forward in a display of attempted dominance. His hands rested over a pair of bony hips, lined by a belt weighed down with all variety of police gadgets. Handcuffs, pepper spray, knives, and whistles. Two empty gun holsters. Blue fabric of his much-too-big uniform sagged over them, weighted down by a sparkling, star-shaped metal buckle that identified the man as chief - pinned over his heart like a sticker for good behavior. It made him look even more so like a child in a man’s outfit. His lanky arm reached through the bars, beckoning me to hand over the phone.

“You made your one phone call, right? Who did you contact?” he questioned in a somewhat accusatory tone.

I looked down at the phone, at my game. I hadn't made the call, but only because I was too busy crushing candies. I tried to concentrate on winning, since that was the only thing I could control now.

Still, it was interesting that he used that phrase. “One phone call.” That was just a myth from Hollywood movies, wasn’t it? Aaron had made me aware of such factoids during our time in the hospital. People treated that line as if it was written in the Constitution. But in reality, I had no rights the second they found me - a beautiful brown big boy - beaten, bloody, in a room with two bodies. This phone didn’t even belong to me, but to the lieutenant currently at the front desk. It was an aesthetic. Worse than that, it was probably monitored, tapped, just so they could incriminate me further.

The chief sighed. “Gambia. This ain’t a hotel. Say something. You gonna make me come in there?”

Only fifteen moves left, and I still needed four more color bomb swipes. It was tough, trying to get a row of candies to align in the right configuration. With the limited space imposed by the chocolates squares, it would take all of my skill to get a win.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he taunted.

Fourteen moves now. I couldn’t stop.

“I know people like you, you don’t have anyone to call. You don’t have any family or friends, because either they got scared and ran away, or because you killed them. Am I wrong? I know I'm not. Frankly, it disgusts me that we have to do anything for murderers like you,” Loop Liu tucked his thumbs under his belt and stretched backward. “But it’s the law.”

I continued swiping. Two more moves but no closer to my goal.

He was wrong, wasn’t he? I didn’t call because I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. I had people to contact. The nurses at the hospital, family friends, my parents’ old lawyer. Right? I just didn’t want to involve them in it. And as for the people I had supposedly murdered… Duy… well, that wasn’t my choice.

“Now if you didn’t call anyone, that’s perfectly understandable. You can give me the phone and I’ll leave you be. But if you did talk to someone, and we don’t know about it, if you’re lying to me, well, that’s not good. In fact, some may say that your actions are grounds for additional obstruction of justice charges.”

Why was I still thinking those thoughts? About what happened with Duy. Why was I being stupid again? There was no way out for me. The chocolate was closing in, leaving me with only a five by five grid to build the bomb. Maybe I could use a lollipop booster? No. That would be cheap. Aaron would never have resorted to using microtransactions or cheating in Sweets Smash.

Then again, Aaron wouldn’t have killed anyone, either. Maybe I should just give Loop the phone. It wasn’t even mine, and, like I had said, it was probably compromised. It was evidence that the whole world was against me, that they would try their best to make sure I lived in a dark, cramped jail cell for the rest of my life. It was an impostor. It was a fake friend. My real phone was broken, along with Duy’s spine, when I had crushed him.

My arm began to move, raising the phone toward the chief’s hand.

But I stopped myself.

“No. I want to see Big Wang Chang’s body. Then I’ll give you your phone,” my voice cracked, after having not spoken for days.

It was a pathetic declaration. Irrational. Yet, there was something in me that wanted to grasp onto just an infinitesimal chance at hope. Even though I would never talk with Ruby or Aaron on our old farmhouse, my heart still jumped every time I swiped a candy and was reminded of their warmth. Despite the fact that I would probably never again see the light of day, I pictured myself taking Aaron’s body from the morgue, dressing it in fancy clothes, giving it a modest send off and burying it in the field out back with Ruby.

Loop laughed, as he unhooked a ring of keys from his belt. “You think you can make demands? You’ve already asked us for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a goddamn late night snack every single day you’ve been here. You’re out of requests.”

My stomach growled. Candies beckoned me, and they tasted like my lover. If I didn’t try now, I probably would never be able to again.

“I just want to see him one last time. I won’t do anything crazy,” I spoke, now with a more confident voice.

The chief rolled his eyes. “You want to see Aaron, you mean? Your ‘brother’?”

My twin.

“Not a chance,” asserted Loop. “Quit whining and give me the phone.”

I crossed my arms stubbornly in protest. The chief stood in contemplation for a moment.

Loop Liu lifted his cap and scratched his balding head. “Look, we don’t even have the body anymore. I don’t know what the feds did with it, but it got separated from Duy’s at the hospital. Good thing, too, if you ask me. You wouldn’t want to see your own handiwork. From what I already saw in the photos, that kid's chest was messed up.”

Duy had stabbed him, yet I was being blamed. This was the brilliant system at it again. Aaron was covered in my blood when they found us, and that was all there was the story. No need to investigate further, or to learn about how he saved me from an infection that would’ve taken my life, not to mention my whole cock. My blood began to boil at the sheer thought of it, and the only thing keeping me in check was that I had just gotten another color bomb. Its electricity reached out like tendrils of Aaron’s hair all those summers ago, long before he had cut it. I only had three more to go.

“That’s a lie. If you don’t have a body, how do you even know he’s dead?” I demanded.

I knew he was dead. There was no way around it. I was just stalling, taking up time, in a big middle finger to the chief. How dare he try and tease me, to give me the hope of seeing my twin once again. Fuck the chief. I remembered what Duy had done to Aaron. All I wanted was for them to give me the truth.

“Look, Gambia, we can go over all the fun details during your official interrogation. But let’s take things one at a time. First, I need you to hand me the goddamn phone.”

But I could already recall all the details. How the paramedics first took Duy’s body and threw it on a stretcher. How it landed with a squelch, and how blood spurted from his open mouth as his head fell back. His crushed, limp body jiggled as they tried to take his pulse. No response. Then they just carted him away, into another room full of body bags.

And I was left there gasping on the ground, as Chief Liu’s underlings took photos of me and Aaron.

The chief huffed. “Remember when we talked before? You gave me your solemn oath that we could get started after you settled in. With a real interview, and a phone call to your family, and all that good stuff.”

That wasn’t a promise. It was coercion, as I was being thrown into a hospital bed still bleeding, and still drenched in Duy’s blood. I was being smothered in questions and flashing lights, swarmed by the police, while they left Aaron in that terrible room all alone. Then when all of the doctors had gone, Chief Liu bent himself over me, and pushed his knee deep into the pulp that was the remains of my penis.

“Promises to bastards like you don’t count,” I sneered.

That last statement came out overflowing with anger. I guess I needed to practice holding in my emotions after experiencing so much trauma and isolation. Whatever. That didn’t matter now. I went with it. I held the phone out in front of my face and continued playing, as if to tell the chief “Come get it.” And my game was on an upswing, too. Only two more bombs needed, with eight moves left.

Liu swung his head to the side, with an amused expression.

“Don’t talk to me like that, boy. You won’t like me when I’m angry,” he laughed.

His air of nonchalance infuriated me. It wasn’t just about what he had done to me, either. I knew Loop Liu was corrupt. A liar and a rapist. Duy had told me as much the last time we met, as we hugged with his mouth pressed to my ear. In the end, perhaps he had become so disillusioned with the world because of what Loop had done. That’s right. I had to remember that we were all victims.

“And how are you when you’re angry? What’s that like?” I asked. My voice quivered with rage.

“You just might find out. I’m specially trained to take down punks like you,” the chief snorted.

“No, Loop. I’m going to take you down. There will be a day that comes when everything you’ve done comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“Really? That’s hard to believe, because I haven’t done anything,” the chief snorted.

“Of course you have. You know it, and I know it.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked, half jokingly.

No. It was a prophecy. One that was going to come to pass very soon.

“Duy told me,” I said flat-out. “I know what you did to him. What are you going to do when I let every police officer and lawyer in the city know that?”

There was a barely perceptible change in his expression. His brows crossed just a little deeper, and his forehead became just a little more wrinkly. This was the expression of a man who was not quite angry - afraid, and just enough to lose his cool. It made me feel a little bit better.

I was going to win. I could see the path forward - four blue candies split in half by a yellow. I just had to make the right move. Clink. Plop. Candies dropped. I looked at Loop as he started to tap his feet and pace the ground outside my cell. Clearly my statement had some effect on him. He was off balance now, so maybe there was a way through. Not just in the game, either. I was talking about getting out of this cell.

“You know, Julius,” he spoke quietly.

“What?”

“Some of the boys and I made bets. Bets on how many beatings you would have to take before confessing to the two murders. What do you think I wagered?”

“I don't know. Sixty nine?”

Loop chuckled to himself. “I said only one, because despite how fat you are, you have a feeble soul. And I reckon I’m right - don’t try to prove me wrong.”

Oh. Those were fighting words.

“Are we passing on the interview, then?” I asked, barely able to contain myself.

Loop Liu stared me down. “We sure as hell are. And I’m going to substitute it for a beating right now.”

It was fitting. As kids, Aaron always got out of doing chores on the farm by sweet talking our parents. He would joke with them, talk about how little work I was doing, or fake being sick by warming his forehead with our old heated toilet. I was never as smart. I would always end up doing his work, or take his beatings, while he got to go off on adventures with Ruby, or play Sweets Smash without me.

But as a result, I was used to doing backbreaking labor every day up until I fell off the roof of that barn. And even though it had been three years, I was nearly just as strong as I was then. Under my layers of folds and flaps was a man with the strength to bend steel bars. To crush the entire police force.

To kill.

Fuck! I messed up. It was the chocolate again. I wasn’t watching it. Now I had just two moves left, with no clear path to getting that color bomb.

I clutched the phone tighter as traumatic memories caused my hands to glisten. I couldn't handle another loss. I heard crackling, but I couldn’t tell if it was Candy Crush or the device itself. Or Duy’s ribs. The way I squeezed them with such ease, until his lungs popped and his chest caved in. Those round, blue candies reminded me of Duy’s glistening, pleading eyes as I smothered the life out of them-

“Just give me the damn phone!” screeched chief of police Loop Liu.

He had unlocked the door while I was deep in thought. Of course he had, that slippery bastard. Just like he had barged into mine and Duy’s relationship, he began to enter my cell. This space that they had designated for people like me without giving it a second thought. But now I knew it intimately, like Aaron’s smooth, slender body. And I could beat him with that.

Adrenaline, anger, and power pumped through my bloated body, and in that moment I saw every detail of my surroundings: the sixty nine rusted cell bars before me, the cold, mossy concrete slabs behind me, and the faint breeze that pulsed through each of their cracks. The high hum of the security system that blocked me from the outside world. Yellow heat lamps, swinging on their tethers. There was Loop’s pale hand against the door, ready to push. The hinges to squeak and squeal at his behest. And I knew the exact trajectory of its opening. I could think of one thousand ways to stop Loop from grabbing me, but I only needed one.

“You don’t want to do that,” I warned. “You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words.”

I strutted forward in a confident rage, knowing that I could take him. I no longer cared about my freedom, or Duy, or Candy Crush. I wanted revenge. If I played my cards right here, I may be able to escape and wreak even more destruction. The chief was thin and unathletic, hardly able to stand up to my thickness. The distance between his elbows was less than half that of my body. Even though I was sorely lacking nutrition, I had no doubt that I could take him.

I smacked the man across his face, knuckles digging deep into the bony recesses of his cheeks. His head snapped back and the chief fell to the floor.

I stood dominant over my prey. This spotted hyena of a man, a pathetic excuse for chief, pleaded upward at me in terror. But despite my blinding anger, I still knew in the back of my mind that he was cunning. Duy had told me that much. His pack could arrive at any moment. And so I kept an eye on bony fingers as they slid across his belt, making sure he didn’t radio for backup. Once they came to a rest, I was going to pounce. Aim for the legs, then the face. Then the groin - for Duy.

But no. Wait. the chief was reaching for something else, not on his belt. That was it. A bright red whistle tied around his neck. How had I not noticed that before?

In a single motion, Loop Liu grabbed it, put it to his mouth, and blew as hard as he could.

The shrill banshee cry made me shrink back, stumbling ass first into my cell, shielding my sensitive ears with my palms. My strength negated. Could I still salvage the situation? Nobody would have heard that whistle except for me, right? No. Before I had time to regain my surroundings, with just one glance, I knew it was over. I had no more hope of escape, save for some divine miracle. The physical barrier was just too great.

They lined Loop like a street gang: three dark, African men to each side of the chief, each outfitted in tactical gear, batons in hand, ready to wage full on war. They wore full face shields, the tinted plexiglass as dark as the skin peeking out beneath it. In contrast to the chief, they were brimming with vigor and muscle.

The men seemed to have appeared from nowhere, in a highly coordinated effort, and the beck and call of Loop. They stood with feet perfectly aligned, immaculately distanced from each other in a regular fashion, not a millimeter off. They were not only strong, but obedient. Clearly, the best of the police force.

“Come get some!” I shouted.

They charged, and my fists pounded against their vests.

They seized me. Twelve arms wrapped around my torso, beastial limbs ripping into my form as I struggled against them. With every twist, with each shove, they pressed into me harder than ever before. They were the chocolate, and I was that last color bomb, never meant to be.

As I was suffocated under their layers of Kevlar and sweat, I thought to myself that I could’ve overpowered these half dozen thugs. If only I had a little more food, if only I had won in Candy Crush, it would be a fair battle. The embarrassment brought on by my weakness, and my impotence, only galvanized my struggle even more. My muscles rippled under my corpulent body as I cried out in frustration and shame. This brought only further embarrassment, perpetuating a vicious cycle that soon brought me to tears. The phone fell from my hands, screen shattering against the unforgiving floor. I would never be able to play Candy Crush again.

“You’re not going to win, Loop Liu,” I resolved. “I’ll kill you one day, I swear!”

Loop Liu giggled like a hyena. His head rolled back and he clutched his belly, though I could barely tell through the prison of meat that surrounded me.

“Oh, Julius Gambia. You think you’re ever going to get out of here? Out of the most secure containment system humanity has seen since slavery? No. For that commotion you caused, you’re going somewhere not even your lawyers will be able to find you.”

“And where’s that?” I asked, gasping for air.

“To the depths of hell.”

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones - Part 5

Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: This one’s a long one to make up for how awfully long it took me to post it :D I’m so sorry I literally suck I don’t deserve your interest BUT it’s also a good one so hopefully you’ll forgive me :D and hopefully I’ll post a LOT more regularly. Enjoy!!

TW: one short mention of suicide

Words: 3557

"Bucky, stop!" Wanda shouted.

She did her best to ignore the flying items of clothing that were being thrown with no specific aiming, and instead was directing her stern look towards Barnes. The soldier’s room was a current mess, with its inhabitant grabbing everything from inside his closet and throwing it out in the most dramatic manner possible, to the floor, to his bed, it didn’t really matter as long as his message was clear: he was packing up. There was an open travel bag over at the corner, waiting to be filled so that the man could flee.

Wanda seemed more concerned than shocked at the news. Sure, finding out those two were soulmates wasn’t anything she had expected to happen anytime soon, but there would be time to digest that later. Right now, Bucky was either making a scene or going mental, or probably both, so she focused on getting him to stop.

"This is insane.” She scolded him, disappointment clear on her tone, “Nat, tell him."

When the Maximoff girl turned to ask for backup from Natasha, the latter showed no real aid whatsoever: she was holding back laughter, still at awe from the reason behind the disturbs, which was Barnes and Wilson were soulmates, and it for some reason was the most ironic, hilarious and tragicomic thing she had ever heard of.

"It-" the redhead tried to support Wanda, but failed as her contained chuckle escaped her lips, and she had to cover her smile with her hand; she quickly nodded, attempting to get rid of the smug look on her face, "It is, it's crazy."

Maximoff looked at her like she was the biggest disappointment in the room at the time. If there was something she didn’t need right now was unhelpfulness.

She turned to the man in question, "What are you trying to accomplish?"

"I'll just move out!” he yelled back, sounding like not even he trusted his own plan, “It'll go away!"

"No it won't, and you know it!" the witch pleaded, growing more and more exasperated.

"No, I don't.” Bucky stopped his actions to shrug dramatically, “You don't know it, nobody really knows how this thing works."

Eventually, Romanoff swallowed her giggles and decided to step in in more seriousness.

"Wanda's right.” She tilted her head, sympathetic, “You're just gonna have to face it."

Barnes didn’t care to dignify the intervention with an answer. He easily shook his head and grabbed the travel bag from the corner. A loud sigh was heard coming from Wanda, who stood there rather defeated and crossing her arms. Looking around, she frowned at the amount of clothes and garbage that lied all over the floor and didn’t seem to bother Bucky in the slightest.

"Have you always been this messy?” she judged him, taking her anger out on that unimportant detail, “You were a fugitive."

Barnes faced her and replied in ridiculous anger, "I got messier, it's one of the perks of not being on the run!"

Wanda went along with their deaf debate and proceeded to scold him about it, so that he would at least stop moving for a few seconds.

"You're running away as we speak!" Maximoff threw her hand in the air.

-

"Don't."

Steve hadn’t produced a single word since Barnes had abandoned the common room, followed by Natasha. The zone had remained static, only disrupted by Sam’s slow walk to the couch, where he slouched with lost eyes. Steve stood in the same spot he had been standing for the last ten minutes, both in absolute silence until Sam phrased the negation.

Rogers raised an eyebrow, "I didn't-"

"You're thinking it." Sam cut him off in annoyance.

The blonde was left to open his mouth only to shut it closed again. Both resumed their processing. Steve, even if not one of the actors of the situation, was finding himself at a mental bifurcation. Both of his best friends, the ones he had attempted to turn best friends to each other and failed multiple times, were bound. And none of them seemed too happy about it.

After minutes of more silence, it appeared as if something clicked inside of Sam’s brain.

“Fuck.” He let out, then stared at the ceiling with a sarcastic smile that was anything but happy.

He shook his head and stood up, headed to his room, and rarely to be seen again.

In fact, he began avoiding the rest of the team quite successfully. He picked up every small, individual mission or debriefing, and made sure to spend as much time away from the kitchen as possible. Tony asked him what was going on at the tower that had everybody so tense, when Sam met him at Stark Industries.

Back at SHIELD headquarters, an unexpected visit surprised him on labor hours. He was dropping some paperwork at an empty office where Maria Hill was supposed to be, and as he turned to the open door, his eyes clashed against a figure standing in his way.

“Look who’s still alive.” Natasha smiled, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms.

Sam was left to do less than nod. He merely acknowledged her presence and didn’t deny his disappearance for the last days.

“Just taking some time.” He let out with detachment, “I think I earned it.”

He was referring to the injury he had suffered on the job. Samuel Wilson was never one to cut schedules or skip work; as a matter of fact, he was the first one to openly judge and poke fun at whoever showed themselves lazy when it came to avenging. That whoever being, very often, Bucky. Usually, and he hadn’t failed to prove it, not even getting his ass kicked would be enough for Sam to take any sort of injury leave. However, this time, even with his ribs and shoulder healed, he decided to pretend like he hadn’t been working as much. Of course, he simply had managed to get work done without alerting the nosy –and preoccupied- team members nor Barnes of his whereabouts.

“As long as you need.” Romanoff did her best to support him and let him know he wasn’t being judged nor reprimanded for shutting out. “We just miss you ‘s all.”

A small, appreciative smile popped up on Wilson’s face, which was enough for Natasha. All she wanted was to make sure Sam was alive and well, after all. And to report to Steve that Sam was alive and well. Seconds of awkward silence passed until Natasha uncrossed her arms and took one step forward, in order to attain some sort of intimacy.

“You okay?” she asked endearingly.

“Yep.” Sam popped his lips, failing to sound very convincing.

Another wave of quiet hit the office. Now that Natasha had reached out, perhaps he could get some information from the other side. Asking the former double-agent seemed fitting.

“Is-?” he tried to formulate the question, yet fell short of words.

Noticing his struggling, Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“You’re asking me if James is alright?” she managed to assume, which earned her a hesitant head tilt from her coworker; the redhead couldn’t conceal an amused grin, “I wouldn’t know. You’re so good at avoiding each other, we don’t see any of you anymore.”

However, Wilson didn’t appear as amused. Instead, the spy’s response only made him remember how deeply bad he felt about this whole thing. He wanted to talk to Bucky. He wanted to clear things out, even if Sam himself didn’t know what clear was at that point, but he figured they could decipher it together. For some unknown reason, Sam felt drawn to being in Bucky’s presence. He would often find himself pursuing said presence, without even realizing how willingly. And especially now, he felt the need to confront the man. Maybe he was used to his company, or maybe it was something else. Maybe it had to do with the bond.

“Something on your mind?” Natasha drew him away from his thoughts, yet quickly realized how both oblivious and redundant that sounded, “Besides the obvious.” She tilted her head to the side with sympathy.

Sam thought hard about that one. Yes, there were a million things on his mind at that very second, but he lacked the energy and courage to build an entire therapy session right there and then. The amount of things he could get off his chest would take him hours to go through, probably. Still, there was one specific detail that he considered to be a good start in his process; hopefully, communicating it to someone –with that someone being interested enough to ask– would help.

So he leaned on the desk and sighed, preparing to tell the story as he stared down to his dressing shoes.

"Remember when we were taking down SHIELD... back in the warehouse where they kept Fury." Once he pushed through the opening sentence, he stared up to check on Natasha’s attention.

She nodded, a frown planted on her face, and went back to crossing her arms over her chest. Sam knew she didn’t mean to look unapproachable but was simply attempting to understand him fully. Therefore, he took another breath and continued.

"We had just fought... him."

Sam meant the Winter Soldier. Natasha knew that Sam meant the Winter Soldier. Everyone knew that Sam never referred to the man under brainwash as Bucky, because he knew that that wasn’t Bucky. Bucky was innocent and protective and grumpy and good and Bucky would regret joining the army if it wasn’t for Steve and Bucky had nightmares about everything he did during the war and while under Hydra. The man that all three heroes had fought back in 2014 wasn’t Bucky.

"Yeah." Natasha nodded, allowing him to keep talking.

"Hydra got him at that point, right? And I can't imagine what they did to him, but... back in that warehouse, I started feeling this horrible pain.” He described the scene squinting his eyes, “Like my brain was set on fire."

"You didn't say anything." Romanoff recalled with curiosity.

He shrugged, "You had a gun wound, a headache wasn't exactly a priority to anyone at the moment." He received an understanding look from Natasha, thus agreeing with his better judgement, "Besides, it wasn't the first time."

Another concerning look plastered itself on the woman’s features.

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly, Wilson began regretting opening up in the first place.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, but quickly regained the strength to at least finish the story, “Just… that soulmate bond? I felt it way back. Before Barnes and I met.”

-

Nobody had knocked on Sam’s door all afternoon, and still, there was a piece of paper that had been clearly slid under it. Whoever had dropped it off didn’t want to face him, which gave him an idea of who that was. He sighed, already emotionally drained from his talk with Natasha, one that had become much longer than anticipated, and bent his back to pick it up from the floor.

Once in his hands, he noticed it was a note. And in it, although there was no signature nor name, an apology he easily trailed back to Bucky.

"I'm sorry for coming at you like that.

I don't think you're obsessed with soulmates.

And you're definitely not crazy.

That would be me, actually."

-

The former assassin continued to try and find a way out of the situation, and exclusively, a way out that wouldn’t hurt Sam. That was all he cared about, really: not dragging a good and kind man into his mess.

He often locked himself with distracting activities, but lately, he had become much more proactive in not avoiding reality. First, he had slid an apology note under Sam’s door. Now, he needed to come up with a solution.

Googling about soulmate research and crazy theories, he stumbled upon a website, a help group for people who felt their soulmate's bond when it was too late: people who felt the injury that killed their unknown significant-other-to-be. The first testimony was already dark and unnecessarily informative: a woman narrated the sensation of sliced wrists on her untouched skin.

Bucky felt the mix of sadness and frustration revolting his guts, and he shut the laptop closed with a groan. Not only did the thought of people suffering such unjust fates regarding their love-lives disgust him, but it also killed his hope of an escape. If the whole thing could be so cruel to simple human beings, then maybe his bond to Sam was a sick joke.

He decided to walk up to Wilson’s room complex, and this time, he did knock on the door.

The man’s voice was heard from inside, "Come in."

For some reason, the sound of his voice hit Bucky in the stomach. He hadn’t heard him in a while, which wasn’t usual for them, but still, this wasn’t like the other times they had spent time apart. This time, they knew about this weird, unknown and unspoken bond. It could mean that the other had feelings for them, or it could mean they themselves felt things and didn’t even know it.

It was confusing as it was, and now hearing Sam’s voice made it all much more dizzying.

Nevertheless, Bucky gathered up some strength and opened the door. Sam was sitting on his desk, working on a laptop. It looked like he had been taking a little break, by the look of his relaxed body leaned on the chair and the mug of coffee on his hands.

As soon as Sam recognized the person walking into his room, he stood up and abandoned the mug on top of his desk.

"Did you read my note?" Barnes broke the ice.

Sam nodded, suddenly forgetting what to do with one’s hands.

"Yeah."

Bucky replied with a similar nod. The quiet tension surrounding them was too much to ignore, so Bucky simply slid his hands inside the back pocket of his jeans and shut his eyes, preparing for the conversation they were about to have.

"I don't-“ he sighed, still not opening his eyes, and went straight to the point, “I can't be your soulmate."

Sam raised his eyebrows and pretended the sentence didn’t hurt.

"Gee, thanks." He mocked.

"You know we can't." Bucky reiterated in all seriousness when he met Sam’s gaze.

Unfortunately, both men meant completely different things. On his part, Wilson had processed the bond as something tricky, because they hadn’t been best friends in the past. For some time they even believed to dislike each other.

"Yeah, took me by surprise as well. But I doubt there's much we can do about it." The veteran shrugged, doing his best to conceal how unwanted the chat was making him feel.

Bucky scratched his forehead with nervousness.

"If I just... go away." He began, and before Sam could interrupt the presentation of his dumb idea, he raised his palm in somewhat desperation, "Just, hear me out.” He pleaded, “I leave. For good. And eventually you can find someone else."

"That's not-"

"Not how it works, I've heard that.” Bucky spat with frustration, “But what about people who skip the rules? The ones who never have a soulmate. Or the ones who swear they've had two in a lifetime, that's...” the soldier had to stop and breathe after such a declaration, “…we can skip the rules."

After making sure that Barnes was done explaining his brilliant plan, Sam stepped in.

"Sounds awfully romantic for a plan to avoid romance." He said sarcastically.

Bucky knew that behind the jokes, Sam had actually listened and therefore was considering the offer. He let the thought sit in for a few more minutes, but as Sam failed to say anything, which consequentially meant he wasn’t agreeing, the brunette continued to try and convince him.

"I just... it ain't me.” He shook his head, “That's not fair."

Eventually, Wilson started to follow Bucky’s trail of thought. It suddenly didn’t sound like the problem were Bucky’s feelings for him, but Bucky’s feelings about himself.

He frowned, “What, for me?"

Barnes stared at him like he had expected him to understand that ages ago.

"Yeah, you know...” He said now with less confidence, “I'm Barnes. I'm pretty sure this is the universe punishing you for something."

The former assassin had a rapid intrusive thought about how he didn’t use to believe in bigger purposes, and now that he was part of one, any divine reason behind a soulmate bond could potentially make sense to him.

"Unless you got a dark past we haven't heard about, you don't deserve this." He finally added, making sure they were on the same page.

The total picture finally kicked into Sam’s brain.

"Is that why you think I don't like this situation? Your baggage?"

On his part, Bucky kept thinking that he was in the right, so he figured Sam wouldn’t have the nicest opinion on the matter.

"Just forget it, okay? I'm telling you I can be out here by tomorrow.” He insisted, avoiding the subject of his baggage, “Just don't tell Steve or he'll try to convince-"

"Do you think-“ Sam cut him off, raising his voice, “Do you think I don't want you as my soulmate because you used to be the Winter Soldier?"

By then, it was Bucky who felt a little in the dark.

"I mean..."

"No! It's because you're annoying as hell!” Sam snapped, his disbelief becoming plain anger, “And this is the perfect example. You didn't even let me face you, you jumped- no, sprinted to conclusions, and can't even hold a proper conversation without trash talking over me."

The fact that Sam actually wanted to give the bond a try got through Bucky’s thick skull after weeks of denying the possibility of it. And it should have made him joyful, to know that Sam didn’t view him like some sad obligation or cruel punishment. He wanted to be happy about it, but receiving a scolding from Wilson never failed to offend him. It was sort of their dynamic.

Bucky’s shocked expression turned into a tantrum-like one, "Oh, like you're so amazing yourself!"

"Trust me, I am amazing.” Sam flaunted himself with a big accusatory hint in his tone, “I'm over here trying to discuss things, despite you being emotionally unavailable.”

Barnes wanted to comeback, to interrupt Sam with a winning argument, but there was none. He hadn’t given any situation a try; not talking to Sam when he found out in the first place, not communicating their mindsets, not listening. He found himself at a loss of words, his mouth gaping and closing again. Sam continued to get hyped up in the worse way possible.

“You keep saying how you'll leave the tower forever, meanwhile I'm-"

Bucky’s loss of words turned into a raging wave of bravery. The knot in his stomach made him feel impulsive, and the sensation that just trying would solve everything pushed him to do the unthinkable.

He interrupted not with an insult, but with a kiss. He took two large leaps in order to close the gap between them, grabbed Sam’s face by each side and collided their lips roughly. The messy mouth crashing against his took Sam by surprise, but he easily gave in, which not only allowed Bucky to continue, but also to tidy the contact. They became gentle, their lips mending with each other like fitting puzzle pieces, and instantly moving in synchrony.

The hands that were holding Sam’s face lowered to the back of his neck, which Bucky held sweetly with his flesh thumb running up and down his nape. It only took Sam half a second to react and hold Bucky’s waist, dragging him close until their chests were impossibly together. They could both feel the other’s heartbeats thumping and decreasing their rapid rate as they reacted to each other’s caresses.

Nothing could have prepared them for how right it felt to have their heads spinning, stomach churning, warmth setting a home inside their ribcages.

As soon as one of them ended the contact and their wet lips were feeling cold without the other, both pairs of wide eyes met in shock.

"Oh." Sam let out.

The onomatopoeia not only let Bucky know that Sam wasn’t expecting the chemistry either, but also that the chemistry had been just as explosive for Sam as well. The brunette stepped back, losing his grip on Sam’s shoulders and losing Sam’s grip on his own waist.

"Yeah." He let out with a breath, agreeing.

Sam copied Barnes and stepped back as well, allowing some distance between them while they let what they had just felt sink in.

A frown took over Sam’s eyebrows.

"I still kinda hate you, though."

Bucky let a small chuckle escape, "God, this is so stupid." He said before engaging in a penetrant stareoff, which he lost; he glanced at the door and ran one hand down his face, "I'm gonna go. Not walking away from a discussion, just... leaving it at that." He defended himself although he wasn’t being accused of anything.

Still, the second that he stepped out the door and into the hallway, Sam spoke in hopes of being heard by the long gone figure.

"That's the definition of walking out."

[mxadrian779]

How Not to Be an Ableist Dick.

Lame is ableist. Deal with it.

Disability metaphors abound in our culture, and they exist almost entirely as pejoratives. You see something wrong? Compare it to a disabled body or mind: Paralyzed. Lame. Crippled. Schizophrenic. Diseased. Sick. Want to launch an insult? The words are seemingly endless: Deaf. Dumb. Blind. Idiot. Moron. Imbecile. Crazy. Insane. Retard. Lunatic. Psycho. Spaz.

Lame is fucking ableist

New meanings aren’t random

At the same time, much media attention has been paid to the use of slurs such as retarded. Similarly, the stigma associated with psychiatric disabilities has left its mark on many words, rendering them insults, such as crazy and insane.

So why isn’t more attention being paid to words like lame?

In the case of physical disability, once-neutral lame now describes someone who is “inept, naive, easily fooled; spec. unskilled in the fashionable behavior of a particular group, socially inept.”

Those who use these expressions tend to try to justify their use in one of two ways.

First, disability is (in their view) actually a bad thing. As one blogger explained:

It’s not okay to call a coward a pussy, or a bad thing gay, they argue, because there’s nothing bad about having a vagina or being homosexual. But there IS something bad about not being mobile! In fact, it’s no fun at all, just totally miserable. All other things held equal, isn’t it better to be not-lame than lame?

(It goes without saying that many people with disabilities would object to having their identity hijacked as the automatic stand-in for all things bad.)

Second, it can be argued – and with some legitimacy – that some of these terms no longer generally refer to disability. Languages change. New meanings emerge from old ones.

But that’s the point: new meanings are not random. Having undergone a process linguists call semantic bleaching, lame has lost some elements of its meaning over time. While physical impairment is no longer part of its (new) meaning, my study of its use in Time Magazine since 1923 showed that it has retained the social meanings associated with disability in the 20th century: awkwardness, stupidity, femininity, lack of social graces and sophistication, and more.

Lame is fucking ableist

Everyday terminology can insult a group of people, even unintentionally. Calling someone a “schizoid,” and expressions like “that’s crazy” and “the last Avengers movie was insane” can be considered offensive to people with mental disabilities. Saying someone is a “basketball junkie” diminishes the seriousness of addiction.

What about saying “that movie was really lame”? A limping horse can be called “lame,” in the sense that it has an injury. But because “lame” can also mean “weak,” “inferior,” or “contemptible,” among Merriam-Webster’s definitions, it’s best avoided in reference to a person or their actions.

An excellent source for disability terminology is the style guide from the National Center on Disability and Journalism, which gives background, Associated Press style guidelines, and advice for its entries.

Lame is fucking ableist

Disability metaphors are abound in our culture, and they exist almost entirely as pejoratives. As Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg wrote on DisabilityandRepresentation.com, “If a culture’s language is full of pejorative metaphors about a group of people, that culture is not going to see those people as fully entitled to the same inclusion as people in a more favored group.” This handout’sprimary purpose is to serve as a reference for linguistic microaggressions and everyday, casual ableism.

Lame is fucking ableist

Why is it so difficult to see that using these words as pejoratives is just as problematic as the once-popular put-down “That’s so gay”?

Despite the reality that nearly one in five Americans has a disability, the fight to extend human dignity to people with disabilities seems an uphill battle. We live in a culture that systematically devalues individuals with disabilities. This group is disproportionately subject to discrimination, underrepresentation and criminal violation. And while these issues may seem far more significant than the problems of labels and slurs, the common language of ableism contributes to a state in which the dehumanization of people with disabilities is culturally acceptable.

Lame is fucking ableist

Lame is a common enough term that even the most “woke” websites and bloggers will use it in their regular language, articles, and posts. Every single time I see it in print or hear it thrown out in casual conversation, my stomach turns a bit. These are people who I know are otherwise politically aware, culturally sensitive, and careful with their word choice. They would never use a racist or homophobic epithet, so why do ableist words seem to get a pass?

First a quick primer on ableism: as racism is to race, ableism is discrimination against disabled people, in favor of able-bodied people. This can take the form of lack of equal opportunities, inaccessibility, word choice, bias, prejudice, and more. Ableism is stairs with no ramps, it is construction crews and delivery vans parking sideways across blue spaces, it is healthcare companies refusing to cover those with pre-existing conditions, and it is calling someone or something you don’t like “lame.”

To be completely clear, lame is a slur. There are countless others out there, but this word in particular seems to be forgiven or forgotten more than any others.

The primary dictionary definition is “having a body part and especially a limb so disabled as to impair freedom of movement.” A few definitions down, it’s defined as slang for “square, inferior, or contemptible.” Originally, this first definition was the only one. Society eventually moved on to other problematic terms such as “handicapped,” but only once “lame” started to colloquially be used to describe anything negative.

Lame is fucking ableist

While only trolls would use a word like ‘retard’, concern with ableist language extends much more widely. There was a time when lots of educated people, with no intent to offend, used words we now regard as sexist, like ‘mankind’ or the male pronoun as a universal. Some of those who used this sexist language were actually supportive of gender equality, and failed to see any connection between their words and reinforcing gender hierarchy. Today, this attitude is much less common. Those concerned with ableist language claim the cases are closely analogous: many of us unthinkingly use words that are ableist without recognizing that fact. They want to alert us to our ableism and have us change our linguistic usage.

For instance, they claim that phrases like “turn a deaf ear to” associate deafness with ignorance; that to call someone or something “lame” metaphorically is to associate walking difficulties with an unrelated (perceived) defect that reduces value; that to describe someone who acts unthinkingly as “dumb” is to inappropriately associate communication difficulties with mere foolishness.

Lame is fucking ableist

We don’t say the r-word anymore. But have you heard someone say one of these recently?

“He’s so crazy.”

“The weather is schizophrenic.”

“Our workload is insane.”

“That’s lame.”

I have, and I’m trying to stop. All the phrases use ableist language.

Ableism is the discrimination of people with disabilities. Ableist language is prejudiced words or phrases against people with disabilities. Disabilities can range from visible to invisible; similarly, ableist language can seem invisible to us (until we start paying attention to our words!) because the phrases are so ingrained in our cultural lexicon.

Lame is fucking ableist

Lame Refers to people with physical or mobility disabilities. Often used as a metaphor. Consider instead: Boring, uninteresting, monotonous, lacks excitement, uncool, out of fashion (if using metaphors); physically disabled person, person with a mobility impairment, paralyzed person (if referring to a disabled person)

Lame is fucking ableist

In the same way that a stranger should not appropriate your body for his commentary, you should not appropriate my disabled body — which is, after all, mine and not yours — for your political writing or social commentary.

A disabled body should not appear in articles about how lame that sexist movie is or how insane racism is. A disabled body should be no more available for commentary than a nondisabled one.

The core problem with using a body as a metaphor is that people actually live in bodies. We are not just paralyzed legs, or deaf ears, or blind eyes.

When we become reduced to our disabilities, others very quickly forget that there are people involved here. We are no longer seen as whole, living, breathing human beings.

Our bodies have simply been put into the service of your cause without our permission.

Lame is fucking ableist

If one of these 12 words is still in your vocabulary, it's time to reframe, rethink and reimagine your word choices.

1. "Lame"

If you're still using the word "lame," you might want to give your internal dictionary a serious update.

"Lame" was originally used in reference to people with reduced mobility due to physical disability. The word is now tossed around schoolyards and workplaces everywhere to mean "uncool" and "unappealing." Even singer-songwriter Ellie Goulding recently included the word in an activist-oriented tweet addressing misogyny in song lyrics.

For a lot of us, "lame" doesn't have that same bad-word sting many offensive terms have. But that definitely doesn't mean it's OK to use. Disability rights activists have long called for the word to phase out. We have a responsibility to respect that.

Lame is fucking ableist

Then it clicked for me. Whether or not I saw any important difference in my use of language, it was having real effects on other people, effects I might not understand. And if that was the case, which my colleague was saying it was, why not make the small change in my language that would matter quite a lot to people around me? It’s so easy. It goes a long way. It doesn’t cost me a thing, but it makes a big difference in the lives of others.

The same is true for ableist language. ‘Lame’, ‘crazy’, ‘dumb’, ‘schizo’, ‘deaf’. We throw around a lot of words whose primary purpose is to describe a mental or physiological condition. Often without thinking, we’re supporting damaging stereotypes about disabilities. But we can change this kind of language, and once we learn to catch it, it’s so easy to do.

...

We need to reframe conversations about marginalizing language to consider the actual damage it causes. Using a word like ‘lame’ as a disparaging catch-all  (which, full disclosure, is a habit I’m still working to change) means that actual lameness—the inability to walk—registers as less than non-lameness, the ability to walk. It pushes people who can’t walk into the margins of what’s considered normal and good.

Lame is fucking ableist

Besides being hurtful and harmful to people who have disabilities, the use of these filler words also decreases the effectiveness of our communication. We stop using the wide variety of words in the English language that communicate precise meanings and, likewise, understand things less precisely. Consider, for example, the difference between saying, “He’s crazy!” versus saying, “He acts in outrageous and unpredictable ways!” Or instead of saying, “That movie was lame,” explaining, “That movie was unoriginal and unenjoyable.” In truth, the world is a more exciting place when we are thinking precisely about what we actually mean, and can communicate our precise meanings to other people. And when we do, we demonstrate love and respect for our fellow human beings.

Lame is fucking ableist

What we sometimes say: “That is so lame!”

Being lame does not mean uncool. Being lame means you are physically impaired from using your legs, yet even within this context it is still an offensive and outdated term.

If a person who has use of their legs, they should not be using a word describing a physical inhibition to describe something they are not a fan of.

What we actually mean, and what we should say: Uncool, cheesy, tacky, corny.

Lame is fucking ableist

Ableist language is any word or phrase that intentionally or inadvertently targets an individual with a disability.For the most part, these words are filler, nothing more. Examples of ableist language include “crazy,” “insane,” “lame,” “dumb,” “retarded,” “blind,” “deaf,” “idiot,” “imbecile,” “invalid (noun),” “maniac,” “nuts,” “psycho,” “spaz.”

Each of these words, when used flippantly, can be extremely insulting to individuals who find themselves with physical (“lame,” “invalid,” “dumb”) or mental (“crazy,” “retarded,” “psycho”) disabilities. A full explanation of why these words are so problematic, along with alternatives that can be used can be found over at Autistic Hoya.

Lame is fucking ableist

Words like as “crazy," "lame," and "retarded," instead of “ridiculous," "pointless," and a thesaurus-full of others, stigmatizes people with disabilities. What's more, such language is often used to deride other marginalized groups.

“[H]ow the world is wired… may be invisible to those who do not have disabilities,” read the Web site for Stop Ableism Inc., a disability rights organization in Guelph, Ontario. Unless you are one of the roughly 56.7 million, or one in five, Americans who have disabilities, or know someone with a disability, you’re less likely to notice the “physical, attitudinal, or systemic” discrimination built into everyday life. Unawareness of ableism is everywhere, said Lydia Brown, a student, writer, and autism activist.

“There is a power structure that non-disabled people can ignore as a result of their privilege as able-bodied and neurotypical,” Brown told Campus Progress, “but which we as disabled people must confront for every moment of our existences.”

Lame is fucking ableist

Because it has been normalised to such an extent, most people using ableist language do so without being aware of the implication behind their words. Subtle insults, directed at minority groups, may seem harmless at first glance but such microaggressions, when accumulated over a lifetime, result in lower self-confidence, depression and higher mortality. Thus, language too can become a medium of oppression. Let’s take a look at the meaning behind certain words which are most definitely ableist but are very much part of everyday conversation.

“That joke was so lame!”

This is a commonly heard phrase. In fact, there are entire websites dedicated to ‘lame’ jokes. ‘Lame’ was originally used to refer to people unable to walk due to physical disability or neurological disorders affecting their feet. In modern day parlance, it has come to mean unoriginal, uninteresting or dull. Next time you use the word ‘lame’ to describe a film or a song, bear in mind that you are equating people who have to rely on canes or crutches with all those negative meanings.

Alternatives: Unimpressive, Boring, Tedious, Uninspiring, Tiresome, Lacklustre, Meh

Lame is fucking ableist

To understand ableism, it is imperative to recognize how society is structured to favor able people. Able privilege encompasses accessibility, language choice, low expectations, microaggressions, and lack of knowledge. All of these aspects are a part of everyday life. Everyday language like “lame”, “insane”, and “idiot” have roots in medicine and a history of discriminatory use about people with disabilities. This builds on the assumption that disability is a detriment. The language we use towards and about disabled individuals (e.g. “wheelchair bound” and “special ed’) disregards their autonomy.

Lame is fucking ableist

They spoke about ableist language and the way that influences, both consciously and subconsciously, people’s view of those with disabilities and what they are capable of doing. For those not familiar, ableist language is when a term that is associated with people with disabilities – things like the R-word, “lame,” or “crazy” – take on a negative and belittling meaning.

Lame is fucking ableist

2. "That's Lame."

Although "lame" is often used to disparage something these days, its original definition refers to the inability to walk. When you say something is lame, you equate lameness with negativity.

Lame is fucking ableist

The use of the words lame, gimp, or   retarded reinforces an underlying assumption that people who have a   disability are also lesser and worthy of scorn, which in turn reinforces the   underlying assumption that people with disabilities are inherently less than   those without disabilities.

Lame is fucking ableist.

Unintended ableism

Just as language is gendered, it can also be ableist. Ableism is simply the discrimination against anyone with a physical or mental disability. And our everyday, casual speak can unfortunately be ableist, reinforcing insensitivity and negative stereotypes.

Words like “blind”, “deaf,” “dumb,” “idiot,” “insane,” “lame,” “nuts,” and “psycho” are all ableist.

Instead of using words like these, take this opportunity to practice clearer communication. Instead of saying, “My manager is nuts if she thinks we’re going to meet that deadline,” you can say: “This deadline is unrealistic.”

Saying what you mean can prevent the use of offensive shortcuts. For some inspiration, check out the work of some great disability activists.

Lame is fucking ableist.

When you insist on using words like “crazy” or “lame” in your speech — or worse, when brands use these words in their marketing copy, which is subject to several layers of internal review — you effectively draw a straight line between people’s physical conditions or mental health issues, and that which is unfortunate and undesirable.

Lame is fucking ableist.

Don’t be an ableist dick.

[potyaislife]

A Good Omens AU of Yuri on Ice? It’s more likely than you think

Yuuri first met him in a drought-stricken river town in Sumer, circa 3000 BCE. It went downhill from there.

With the merciless midsummer sun shining into his eyes, and sweat gathering at his temples and dripping down his back, Yuuri almost didn’t notice him at first. Yuuri had stopped short at the edge of a crowd, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Two people in front of him had moved, and Yuuri suddenly had an unobstructed view of a stunningly handsome man with a bright smile, who was ladling out cupfuls of cool spring water from a large earthenware jog at his side. The man had looked up, and as soon as his sparkling eyes met Yuuri’s, he knew. The handsome stranger was one of them.

Yuuri had started backing away slowly, then he turned and ran down the street, dodging an out-of-control cart as he did so. Looking back, he saw two young children playing in the street, directly in the path of the runaway cart. He didn’t hesitate at all, even though he should have. He skidded to a stop, pulled the kids out of the way, then kept running. He was afraid to look back. If he was lucky, that other��hadn’t seen him betraying his (literally) hellish doctrine.

He was not lucky. Only a few moments later, the other cut him off as he came out of an alley.

“Hey!” he said, grabbing Yuuri’s arm as Yuuri tried to get around him. “Wait! Look, I just want to chat a little, I haven’t met anyone else for millennia!”

“Are you crazy?” Yuuri hissed. “You have to know that I’m –,”

“A demon?” He was speaking in a normal tone of voice. There were people near by who where going to hear him. Whoever this person was, Yuuri realized that he must be insane. Too long alone among humans could drive even the best operatives over the edge, Yuuri had seen it happen. He might even blow Yuuri’s cover if he didn’t shut up. He was still talking uncomfortable loudly, saying “…that was a bona fide good deed.”

“What?” Yuuri asked despite himself. Yuuri flipped his arm so that he was gripping the other’s wrist, and he dragged him back into the alley where they couldn’t be overhead so easily. Dimly, Yuuri wondered why he wasn’t just doing the smart thing and running away, but it seemed like the decision had been made already without his input. Apparently, he was going to hear this hopeless stranger out.

“I was saying, you can’t be very serious about being a demon, because you saved those kids back there and that’s pretty unequivocally a good deed, at least in my book,” he said earnestly, peering at Yuuri with his bright eyes.

“But, um, we’re supposed to be enemies–,” Yuuri started to say. The other waved it aside.

“Oh, pooh, the only strong force of evil that I see comes from the humans themselves,” Yuuri stared, but the stranger wasn’t done, “… it’s just like how the most intense good is done by them, without any prompting from me. Sometimes both is even from the same human? I haven’t figured out how that works yet.” He paused, finally noticing Yuuri’s blank look.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I, sorry,” he continued. “Anyway I just wanted someone to talk to who has lived more than a couple centuries, you know?” He stopped again, watching Yuuri, who was still staring at him, struck silent. The phrase the strongest evil comes from humanity was echoing in his head. It was true, it tallied with what he had seen, but he would never have been able to put it into words, let alone say it aloud.

“Um, clearly you don’t want to talk,” the stranger was withdrawing from him. “I should just let you go, you’re right that it’s dangerous, so.” His posture looked defeated now, and his eyes were no longer sparkling. Yuuri inexplicably felt pity well up in him, as well as another, undefinable emotion. Afterwards, he would remember this moment as the one that sealed his fate.

“No, wait,” Yuuri said, swallowing down the frantic thoughts of what are you doing you are going to get yourself fired. “Let’s talk. Just, uh, not out in the open?”

“Oh, oh! Wonderful!” The stranger smiled, and his whole face lit up. Yuuri had to look away – it was too pretty, and he’d only agreed to talk. Anything else was exponentially more dangerous, no matter how much he wanted it.

The stranger held out his hand. “I’m Viktor. I know it’d be easier if we don’t share names but, well, you’ll have to call me something!”

“Um, I guess?” said Yuuri. He took Viktor’s hand. It was warm, and their palms fit perfectly together. He sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound.“I’m Yuuri.”

“Yuuri!” Viktor trilled the r. “I love it! My place isn’t far, Yuuri, would you mind that?”

“Uh, no.” said Yuuri. At least it would be private. And of course Viktor’s angelic superiors might call in at any time. But he was committed now.

They walked out of the village, as Viktor lived just outside of town. Yuuri felt crushingly awkward. At least with humans, if he embarrassed himself in front of them, he could just leave the area for a couple hundred years and then no one would remember him at all. Viktor wouldn��t forget so quickly. Quite aside from the fact that he was an angel and therefore Yuuri’s sworn enemy for all eternity.

Speaking of eternity, it felt like at least one had passed since Yuuri had last said something. Viktor must think he was – well, actually Viktor was still chatting merrily about something. The village, he was talking about the village and the recent drought, comparing it to the weather patterns of the area over the last several decades.

They reached the house, and Viktor made him a hot drink. They sat cross-legged on cushions on the floor. Yuuri stared into his cup and tried not to look around for angelic weapons.

“So, have you been in the area long?” Viktor asked him.

“Not really, just a few weeks,” Yuuri said cautiously. He’d fled here from the city because he had accidentally become the center of a scandal involving an extremely wealthy man’s daughter and son, who were both young adults and both determined that sleeping with Yuuri would be the best way to rebel against their father’s strict rule.

Yuuri had tried to avoid them, but his luck was terrible and the two siblings had caught each other trying to sneak into his apartment on the same night. Their resulting fight was so raucous that it raised the city guard and Yuuri had wound up in jail. He’d teleported out easily enough, of course, but the indignity still bothered him.

He didn’t want to tell any of this to Viktor, though. Viktor would probably think badly of him, as he had seduced the ‘innocent’, accident or no, and caused harm to befall them. One part of Yuuri very pointedly wanted to know why Viktor’s good opinion was so important to him, when Viktor’s ideals were supposedly the polar opposite of his.

He told that part of himself to shut up. Viktor was watching him curiously, head tilted slightly to the side. It was adorable. Yuuri scrambled for conversation.

“Where do you like best?” he asked. “I mean, which part of the world,” he added at Viktor’s confused look.

Viktor beamed and launched into a description of a long-faded aquatic society on a far-off island chain, now submerged under risen sea levels, though descendants of its people still lived on the mainland.  

“They spent so much time on the water, I loved the freedom of it,” Viktor confessed, leaning closer to Yuuri under the pretext of refilling his cup.

Their jobs, nearly identical in practice despite being ideologically opposed, meant that they moved around a lot, and had little-to-no contact with their fellow agents. Yuuri felt himself blossoming in the company of someone who understoodin a way no other person he’d talked to in centuries had, and Viktor obviously felt the same. He practically begged Yuuri not to leave when evening came, but Yuuri held firm. He did not want to get caught and dragged back to Hell for fraternizing with an enemy. Yuuri liked living on Earth, despite all its flaws. Plus, his fellow demons would torture him.

So he took his leave of Viktor, was carefully noncommittal when Viktor asked if he could see him again, and resolved to stay away from angels in the future, no matter how charming.  

[thelastblueheart]

I love you like rlb

THIS IS NOT MINE!!! This was originally posted by tolieawake but has since been deleted. I was able to get my hands on it and have shared it since it is a fandom classic. Please credit them as the writer!

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I love you like rlb has become a well-known, accepted and valuable component of American vernacular. The meaning of the letters ‘rlb’ is unknown, but is uniformly considered to be a statement of a great romantic love, commitment and sacrifice.

In which Tony goes insane trying to figure out why that phrase affects the Cap so much, Bucky teases the press, and Steve and Bucky love each other like rlb.

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I love you like rlb The first time he saw it, Steve stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Tony, who was walking and talking and gesticulating wildly all at the same time (the way that Tony does), didn't notice at first. When he did, he frowned, spun on his heel and headed back to where Steve was standing. “You okay, Cap?” he asked, tugging his sunglasses just far enough down his nose that he could peer at Steve over them. “Fine,” Steve mumbled, but he couldn't quite tear his eyes away. He was staring at the large glass window of the shop beside him or, rather, he was staring through the window at the brightly coloured t-shirt hanging on the mannequin. It was a vivid shade of blue, with yellow swirls crossing it, and white text proudly displayed across the chest. I love you like rlb it proclaimed proudly. “What?” Tony asked, “you never seen that saying before?” Steve swallowed, but didn't answer. Behind the mannequin was a rack of t-shirts, in various colours and patterns, all proclaiming the same thing – I love you like rlb. “I -” Steve started, before stopping to clear his throat. “Do you know what it means?” he asked. “Uh, it's just a saying, Cap,” Tony replied. “You know, like LOL or Got Milk? Roses are red. A prominent part of our popular culture that people use without really thinking about it.” He shrugged. “I don't think anyone knows where it comes from, or what the 'rlb' means – but everyone just takes it to mean, you know, like a declaration of love or something. Lots of love. Lots and lots of love.” He frowned. “I gave Pepper an I love you like rlb bracelet once. Real fancy, solid gold, she wears it occasionally.” He paused his rapid-fire rambling long enough to stare at Steve. “You sure you okay, Cap? 'Cos you look like you seen a ghost or something.” Tony paused. “You haven't seen a ghost, have you?” “No, no, it's just...” Steve let his voice trail off, hands tilted out to the side as he shrugged helplessly. How could he possibly explain it. “I don't know if it's related,” he said, “but some of the guys used to say that, during the war.” “Huh,” Tony said. He turned to look in the window at the t-shirts. “I mean, I know the saying's been around for a long time. One of those things that no-one is quite sure where it started or who said it first.” “Dernier,” Steve muttered. “What?” Shaking his head, Steve took a step away from the display, visibly pulling himself together. “Nothing,” he said. Shoving his hands into his pockets (to stop the shaking he wouldn't admit to), he turned and headed back down the street. “Don't we have somewhere to be?” he asked. - “JARVIS,” Steve said, standing in the middle of his floor of Avengers Tower (because Tony was ridiculous like that about giving them all things), “can you do some research for me, please?” “Certainly, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS replied smoothly. “What would you like me to research?” “I... I saw something today,” Steve said, “while I was out with Tony. He said that it was just a common saying, but...” letting his voice trail off he sighed, scrubbing one hand through his hair. “Sorry, I'm not explaining this right.” “Perhaps you could start with the saying?” JARVIS suggested. “Right, yes, of course.” Taking a deep breath, Steve forced the words – words he'd thought he'd never hear again, through his lips. “I love you like rlb,” he said. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. There was a stinging in the backs of his eyes, but he resolutely ignored it. “That is a common saying,” JARVIS informed him with a thoughtful hum. “What is it that you would like to know about it?” “Does anyone know where it comes from?” Steve asked. “Tony said no, but, well, I thought maybe it's just not well-known? Or, does anyone know when it started? What it means?” “One moment, please,” JARVIS requested, before making another humming sound. Steve knew it was the sound JARVIS made to let him know he was thinking – or rather, running searches and collating information. Stumbling backwards, Steve let himself fall down onto his couch, grabbing the nearest cushion and almost ripping it apart as he held it tightly, hands clenching in the fabric. “While there does not appear to be any documented origin for the saying,” JARVIS said calmly, his smoothly modulated voice helping to calm Steve, “it is generally attributed as a saying which emerged among American troops during World War II. Returning soldiers brought the saying back to American soil with them. This origin in the War leant a certain romantic slant to the saying, which has persisted to this day. “Interestingly, french troops also carried the saying home to France after the war, which suggests that it was well-known enough that it transferred between Allied troops. Or was known to the resistance. It is also used fairly extensively in all Allied countries, but most prominently in America. “In 1951, it made its first appearance on merchandising – as a small engraving on pendants, which were sold by the Goldman Jewelry company. Stark Industries was involved in the design of the pendants.” Steve sucked a sharp breath in. “Since then,” JARVIS continued, “the phrase has appeared on various items of merchandise continually through the years; although the merchandise itself has changed, the phrase has never fallen out of use. It has been accepted as part of the current American and French vernacular, and appears in numerous romantic comedies, romance novels, and cards, as well as on items of clothing, jewelry, plaques and also tattoos. “The meaning of the letters 'rlb' is unknown, but is uniformly considered to be a statement of a great romantic love, commitment and sacrifice.” Pushing his fist against his mouth, Steve bit at his knuckles, trying to choke down the sob rising in his throat. “In the 1980s,” JARVIS continued, “the phrase was picked up by a number of gay rights campaigners and has since been used proudly by the community. However, evidence suggests that even before that time, and certainly since, it has been used as a phrase to express love between partners, without reference to their sexual orientation. “As there has never been a documented point of origin for the phrase, companies have been able to create merchandise freely, and therefore, at this current time, there is a proliferation of merchandising available. “Despite its unknown origins, and the lack of clarity around its exact meaning, I love you like rlb has become a well-known, accepted and valuable component of American vernacular. I am sorry that I am unable to provide you with the exact meaning of the letters rlb or of a more precise origin.” Sucking in a deep breath, Steve leant back against the couch, blinking rapidly. “It's okay,” he said, ignoring the way his voice cracked once more. “Thanks, JARVIS.” “You are welcome, Captain. If I may, you appear to be experiencing some distress. Would you like me to alert Mr Stark? Or perhaps one of the other inhabitants of the Tower? Miss Potts is currently upstairs and has finished work for the day.” “No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “No, I'm fine. I'll be fine. I just -” Getting up, he stumbled towards his bedroom, shaking lightly and half-tripping over his feet. JARVIS made a concerned sound before falling silent. - The next day, Steve pulled out some jeans, a baseball cap, hoodie and sunglasses, and braved the craziness of 21st century shopping in order to buy a few things. The watch with the engraving on the back went on his wrist. The sweatpants and t-shirt were shoved into a bag, to become his sleeping clothes. The fake dog-tags – well, he got them to add one with a simple string of numbers on it (32557) – and then slung them around his neck, letting them fall down beside his own, real, dog-tags. It wasn't much, wasn't nearly enough, but somehow, it made him feel better. - The fight with the Winter Soldier was nothing like anything Steve had encountered so far in this new century. The Soldier fought hard and fast and with an edge to his movements, despite the precision and grace and obvious training, that made Steve think of back alleys in Brooklyn. His team were yelling on the comm, Hawkeye hissing because neither Steve nor the Soldier would stand still long enough for him to safely take a shot. Iron Man was circling overhead, the Hulk standing nearby and looking ready to smash given half a chance. Widow was racing towards their position, ready to enter the fray. Thor cheered them both on as brave warriors. Then the Soldier grabbed at Steve, and somehow, during the fight, his helmet had been knocked off and the top of his uniform torn just enough that the Soldier's fingers closed over the chain around his neck, tugging and twisting. Steve ducked and rolled to prevent strangulation, even as he snapped his arm out, desperate to grab his dog-tags back. The Soldier froze, gaze fixated on the tags dangling from his hand, eyes widening and punching the breath from Steve's lungs even as his brain scrabbled to find a reason for his reaction. “Cap?” Hawkeye called. “I have a shot.” “Wait,” Steve said. He glanced down at the tags, noticing that the Soldier had grabbed his fake ones, and his eyes were fixed on that phrase. The saying. I love you like rlb Slowly, the Soldier raised his eyes to Steve's. “What?” he asked. His voice was muffled beneath his mask, and Steve found himself stepping forward, reaching out to gently remove the mask. His heart was pounding in his chest and he lost his breath as soon as the mask came away. There were tears in his eyes (he ignored them), and his heart was pounding (faster than he ever remembered it being since the serum). “Bucky,” he whispered. Slowly Bucky (because those were Bucky's eyes, even as they struggled against confusion and the blank stare of the Soldier) formed the words. “I love you like rlb,” he said. - “I'm just saying,” Tony said, “it's a little strange. First, Cap freaks out about the saying when he sees it on some t-shirts, and now the Winter Soldier – the Winter Soldier! - uses it to somehow break the insane amounts of brainwashing he was under.” Clint shrugged. “They say it originated in the war somewhere,” he said. “Maybe Cap was there when it first started.” “And the Soldier?” Tony asked. “We were.” The team turned to see Steve step into the room. His hair was still wet from his shower, and his eyes were suspiciously red and bright. There was a cautious hope in his eyes that made them realise just how withdrawn he'd been. Steve nodded towards the observation window they were all arrayed in front of. On the other side, the Winter Soldier sat at a table, staring down at the dog-tags still clutched in his fist. His hair hung over his face, so they couldn't see it clearly, but he'd been suspiciously quiet and compliant since he had been taken into custody. “We?” Bruce asked, eyes darting over Steve, assessing him. Steve gave him a tight smile. “We,” he repeated. He nodded towards the Soldier. “His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He's my best friend. He -” Steve cut himself off, taking a breath and swallowing. Then he shrugged. “We were there the first time Dernier said it – I don't think he meant for us to hear, but we did.” His gaze turned un-focused, looking off somewhere they couldn't see. - “Are you insane?” Dum Dum hissed, staring at Dernier through the rain. He scowled. “You know what you're risking.” Dernier shrugged, glancing over his own shoulder at where Gabe was sitting under the flap of their tent. “I know,” he agreed. “And I wouldn't risk it for just anything, but I love him like rlb.” “Rlb?” Bucky asked, stepping up beside Steve and frowning through the rain. “What are they talking about?” Steve shrugged, shaking his head. “I'm not sure,” he said, brow furrowed. - Shoving his meager supplies into a pack, Steve slung it up onto his shoulder, turning to face his men. “I don't expect you to follow me,” he said, “but I do ask that you don't try to stop me.” “What's going on?” Falsworth asked, stepping into the tent and glancing around at them. “What do you think?” Morita asked, “we got another rlb situation.” Steve blinked. “What?” he asked, before shaking his head. “Never mind. The rendezvous is in two hours, north-east from here. Get to the pick-up point and -” “No offense, Cap,” Falsworth interrupted, “but we're not going to the rendezvous.” “No chance,” Dum Dum agreed. “You're going after Barnes. So are we.” Steve shook his head. “I can't ask you to -” “You're not asking, we're offering,” Gabe said, pushing himself to his feet. Around them, the others nodded. - They trooped into base camp six days later, covered in mud, tired, hungry, but with Barnes by their sides (well, by Steve's side). Phillips took one look at them, before shaking his head. “Rlb?” he asked. “Rlb,” Falsworth agreed with a nod. - “You got a girl back home?” Steve paused, glancing over at the small huddle of soldiers, grouped around a fire and sharing stories. “Yeah,” one of the others replied. He pulled a worn photo out of his pocket, holding it out to show the others. “This here is my gal,” he replied. “Prettiest gal around.” “Nice sweetheart,” another soldier commented. He shook his head. “Nah, not just a sweetheart,” he said. “This is the gal I'm gonna marry, I love her like rlb.” The others nodded, smiling understandingly. - “Hey Steve,” Bucky murmured, shifting so that his face was smushed against Steve's neck, where they lay in their tent. “Mmm,” Steve agreed. A wicked smile curved Bucky's lips against Steve's skin. “I love you like rlb,” he said. Rolling his eyes – and his body – Steve turned so that he could look at Bucky. “Really, Buck?” he asked. Bucky just grinned back at him. “What?” he asked. “Haven't you figured out what it stands for yet?” “'Course I have,” Steve replied. “They're not as subtle as they think.” Bucky huffed a laugh. “But you coulda just said 'I love you',” Steve continued. “Coulda,” Bucky agreed. “But I like this better. You know, I heard some soldiers use it earlier today, like it's something special, something more than just 'I love you'. I like that.” “You would,” Steve agreed. Reaching out, he traced his hand over Bucky's forehead, his nose, his cheek. Bucky turned his head, pressing a kiss against Steve's palm. “I love you like rlb, Buck,” Steve said. - “And this is the common floor,” Tony proclaimed, spreading his arms wide and spinning around as he indicated the area they had just stepped into. Behind him, Bucky (because he was all Bucky now, no more Winter Soldier), stared around and gave a low whistle. “Would you look at that,” he said, turning to grin at Steve. “You've been hanging with the rich kids.” Smiling (he hadn't stopped smiling since Bucky had first hugged him, pulling Steve close in the tiny cell they had him in, pressing his lips to Steve's neck and mouthing those words against his skin I love you like rlb), Steve gave a small shrug. “Just one rich kid,” he said. “But a very rich one.” “That's right,” Tony agreed. “So, if you need anything, just let me know. If I don't have it already, I'm pretty sure I can get it for you.” “Got any I love you like rlb t-shirts?” Bucky asked, casting a sly grin at Steve. Tony gaped at him. “What?” he asked, before stopping and shaking his head. “No, don't tell me, I don't want to know,” he said (even though he did really want to know). “JARVIS, please order Barnes some t-shirts.” “Certainly, Sir,” JARVIS agreed easily. - Bucky tended to wear his I love you like rlb t-shirts around the Tower – whenever he wasn't in uniform, he could be found lounging around in one of the shirts. Steve would always give him a soft smile when he saw the shirts, and Tony was fairly sure that was at least half the reason they had basically become Barnes' signature wardrobe. So it wasn't that surprising when he wore one to his first press interview. At least, it wasn't surprising to the Avengers (even if it was driving Tony crazy that Barnes refused to tell him just why he liked the shirts so much), even if it did surprise the press. “Sergeant Barnes,” a reporter asked. “I notice you're wearing a t-shirt with the popular phrase I love you like rlb emblazoned across it. I was just wondering, was this a particular choice? Does it have any significant meaning for you?” Bucky blinked, staring back at the reporter, before turning to look at Steve. “They don't know?” he asked, sounding slightly incredulous (but with that underlying hint of humour that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing and that his incredulity was all part of some crazy plan he had – Tony still couldn't quite believe the things that guy could talk Cap into when his voice took on that edge). “Bucky,” Steve sighed, with a roll of his eyes, but he made no move to stop him. Turning back to the reporters, Bucky smiled sweetly at them. “Sure it means something to me,” he said. “I mean, I was surprised that anyone even remembered this crazy saying.” He gave a small shrug. “I think it was Gabe as first used it,” he said. “Dernier,” Steve softly corrected him. “Right,” Bucky agreed with a laugh, “Dernier.” “Are you telling us,” the reporter asked, eyes wide, “that you know of the first instance of this iconic phrase being used?” “Sure,” Bucky said. “At least, I know it was the guys as first started using it. Not sure if I heard the very first time they said it – it wasn't something they used to say in front of Steve or I, at first.” “Why not?” Bucky laughed again. “Because it was about us,” he replied with a grin. “They didn't want us to know they'd caught on.” Another shrug. “Thought they were being so clever, so subtle.” He shook his head with a fond smile. “Dernier said it about Gabe.” “Jacques Dernier and Gabe Jones,” a reporter asked, “who, years after the war, confirmed that they had been in a romantic relationship since the war?” “And during,” Bucky agreed easily. “And yeah, Dernier said he loved Gabe 'like rlb'. They used it all the time – well, not necessarily the whole 'I love you like rlb', but 'rlb'. Like it was some super secret code they'd made up. Steve's about to do something stupid 'cos I got cut off from the guys again, it's an 'rlb situation'. Explaining to Phillips why we were late to a rendezvous, 'sorry General, but rlb, you know?'” Next to them, Tony was gaping – he was a genius, okay, so he'd figured it out. “And the rlb,” the first reporter asked, leaning forward, “what does that stand for?” Bucky laughed. “Rogers loves Barnes, of course,” he said. - There was a violent and prolific reaction to Bucky's statement. Tony claimed they'd broken the Internet (Steve was fairly sure that was impossible, but he let Tony think he'd convinced them of it), and for a while, none of the reporters were interested in anything else. But, when it came down to it, things were no different. Bucky wore his t-shirts around the Tower, and would lie next to Steve at night, mouthing the words into his skin. Somehow, the fact that this, of everything they'd done and said, of all the history that had been written about them, that this was the thing that lasted and thrived the most – it made Bucky grin. “I always said we had a love like one of those epic romances,” he told Steve fondly. Steve snorted. “You did not,” he replied, “you said I was a punk and that you'd better stick by me 'cos otherwise I'd get myself killed.” Bucky shrugged. “That, too,” he agreed easily. Then he grinned, bright and brilliant, the kind of grin that chased away the lingering shadows of his pain and guilt for a moment. “Still, we're like, the definition of romantic love in this century,” he said. “That's gotta count for something.” “I don't know about that,” Steve replied, “but I do know I love you.” “Like rlb?” Bucky asked. “Sure,” Steve agreed with a laugh, “I love you like rlb. Now sit still, Jerk, I'm trying to draw you.”

[inkyjaguar]

Extra Story of ROTL

(This takes place right after they have the talk about quadrants)

Aradia drifted back to her tent after Karkat telling them that they were moving camp. It seemed like such a trivial thing. They were going to get caught anyway and would be killed for their crimes against the abominable royalbloods. That sounded nice and peaceful. The medium world was one she knew well and would have fun being among the dead. Why was being dead so much better than being alive?

Something hit her back and she ran forward a few steps from the momentum. “Oh! I’m sorry Aradia!” She turned slowly to see one of the new girls. The one who had something against Kanaya. The bronze blood swatted invisible dust off her shoulders in an apologetic way. “I was thinking to myself and hadn’t noticed I was getting that close to you! Are you okay?” Aradia should say something, but did she feel like it? No. She didn’t have any energy to say something rude or empathetic to Jade. Instead, she turned on her heel and floated the rest of the way to her tent. At some point in her life, she might’ve had something to say to that bronze blood. When did her life turn into a monotone book? “Um, alright. See you tomorrow Aradia!”

Why say goodbye? With their luck, they might die in their sleep and not have to see each other again. They should be wishing each other happy deaths. What would one say to another to convey that phrase? That was too straining to think about.

Aradia found her tent and slipped inside. Nepeta sat in the dark; scribbling furiously into her book. It was a different book from the one she took notes from the meetings. This one was colorful and Nepeta never let her see it. Why did she need two separate books? Why was this one more colorful? She’d admit that sometimes she’d get this urge to dig into Nepeta’s stuff and look through everything, but that urge usually disappeared after a moment of sitting.

“It has a great dynamic!” Nepeta hissed as she picked up brown, green and jade pencils. “I wouldn’t have expected it! Oh, this is going to be lovely!”

“But what if it’s not?” Aradia’s curiosity spoke up. Nepeta looked up sharply from her book and clutched it closer to her chest. Aradia had never interrupted Nepeta’s muttering sessions before. Even she didn’t know why she had done it. Her curiosity had peaked up and spoken before it died away like the rest. Still, she waited for an answer as Nepeta stared at her in surprise and suspicion.

“Well, it could go bad,” Nepeta muttered reluctantly and peaked down at her book. She sighed. “This is something that could go bad very fast. I’ll have to keep a close eye on it. Maybe, stoke it a little bit? But then that’s intervention and it’s not natural!” Nepeta returned to ignoring Aradia. Perfectly fine. This dynamic has gone on for years between them. It was almost unspoken. Aradia would provide Nepeta with company while she muttered to herself without looking insane.

She slipped out of her shoes and prepped her bed. It was going to be a boring journey tonight. She knew her birth village inside and out and so the ghosts would not be as interesting as the other places they’ve gone. They also won’t be as friendly as the others one as well. Still, she couldn’t really stop herself from going into the medium world while she slept. Aradia settled on her back and stared at the darkness of her eyelids. She wasn’t going to force it to happen like she did at the village, it’d happen on its own.

Nepeta’s muttering started to warble as if underwater. The smell of rosemary tickled her nose and she could hear the everyday happenings of her birth city. She stayed where she was though. She wasn’t going to waste energy on something that was going to happen. Every pore in her body pricked up and felt herself diving head first into the rabbit hole. The seams sprang apart easily and the smell of rosemary slid down her throat and filled up her lungs like water. Everything compressed in on her as if the hole was getting smaller and then it opened up as her head was dragged from her body and into the tent. The tent walls were blueish grey and Nepeta shined a golden light. It was pretty blinding honestly and so Aradia drifted through the tent wall altogether.

Golden Karkat stood by the fire, making the blue flames die out before he would go off to bed. He was boring to follow to though. She wanted to explore the woods around them. See if anything was interesting or new. She floated away from the campsite and into the grey woods, on the lookout for spirits to converse with.

After just out of the light of their camp, a golden light caught her eye. She froze where she stood and turned to face the golden light. It quickly disappeared behind a tree. Someone had followed them from the village. Karkat was right. Oh, she hated it when he was right! Still, she had people to defend! She should hurry back to her body and tell everyone! Wait, they could be getting themselves into an ambush. She should investigate and then go back to tell everyone so they could make a plan.

She silently drifted over to the place where the light had been. Wait, why was she sneaking? They couldn’t see her at all. She was pretty much dead at this. Straightening up, she drifted through the tree that the golden light had hidden behind. The light was gone. No one stood behind it. Where did they go? She turned around and caught a glimpse of purple light in the far distance.

Was someone else out here? Two people? She drifted as fast as she could after the purple light. Maybe she was being stupid and it would actually be people from her own camp. That would be some relief, but also a huge waste of her time! She could actually get lost out here! And if she wasn’t back to her body by the time she was supposed to wake up with the others, they’d all worry over her and make a big mess of things.

The purple light popped out ahead of her and she saw a bit of gold as well. So, there were two people and they were in cahoots! The lights stopped moving and she drifted through another tree to see who it was. A single man shined both with purple and gold lights. It was split perfectly down the middle but the purple light was weak and didn’t shine as brightly. His back as to her as he stared out at her camp.

That was weird. She only knew one person who could shine with both lights. It couldn’t seriously be- “Sollux?” She asked. Why had she called out? If he was alive, he wouldn’t be able to hear-

The man turned around to face her and it was him! Sollux! He stood there! Alive! He was so handsome! And he was here! “Sollux!” She yelled and flew at him; wanting to wrap her arms around him!

She realized that she wouldn’t be able to hug him properly because she was a ghost. Halfway to him, she fell back and her arms dropped. Sollux narrowed his eyes at her. “Why did you thop?”

“I can’t touch you. I’m a ghost right now, Sollux,” she replied but started to drift closer again. He remembered who she was?

“Well, I couldn’t thee ghoth before dying tho let’th thee if I can-” he ran over to her and picked up her ghost form around the waist before twirling her around in a hug. She gasped at the sensation. He didn’t feel like a human would but like a ghost would. It was crazy and she amazing! He was back! She laughed as she spun and wrapped her arms around his head to hold on to him. He laughed too. He put her down on her floating her and she smiled up at him.

“How can you see me? Wait, you said that you died?” She frowned.

“Wow, AA. Can’t we jutht focuth on uth right now? I haven’t theen you in forever. I mithed you.” He admitted quietly with his arms still tucked around her waist. He missed her? He was admitting that he missed her? He had been the one thing that kept her going through the whole Equius thing. He had been the first thing she had cried about in her emotion ridden body. Sollux had been her hope and he was here. She grabbed his face excitedly and kissed his forehead.

“I-” she kissed his nose, “-missed-” she pecked his lips, “-you-” she kissed his lips harder than she liked, “-too.” She gasped out before kissing his lips again.

He kissed back and she couldn’t help but smile under his kisses. “Can you thop thiling? I’m trying to make up for all the dayth I haven’t been able to kith you.” He sounded a little bit grumpy but she laughed despite what he said.

“I’m too happy! I haven’t seen you! You’re here! I could just,” she grinned, “die right now.” He rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead.

“You and your thupid punth. I might juth keel over and die again tho I won’t have to hear them.”

“Okay, explain that,” she poked his cheek. “You died?”

He shrugged. “Duh. I wouldn’t have thayed away from you for that long juth becauth of a mithin.”

“Why haven’t I seen your ghost then?” He squinted his eyes in concentration.

“Well, becauth I went to Prothit.”

“Prospit? I thought you were a Derse dreamer?”

“I am, AA,” he settled his hand on hers that clung onto his cheek and he leaned in her hand with closed eyes. “I have two dream thelth. One that ith Derth and the other ith Prothit. I had been dreaming in my Derth one but when I died, my thoul went to Prothit and I couldn’t leave the dream world. I even tried to find your dream thelf, but you weren’t anywhere on thoth planetth.”

Aradia shook her head. That was… weird to know. She hoped that maybe one day someone would wake up her dream self and then she wouldn’t be dragged to the medium world every night.

“Okay, so you were just lost up there? With no one to talk to?” She asked. Sollux nodded into her hand and turned to kiss her palm.

“Yeah. The Prothpithanth are really thupid. They didn’t know what wath going on with me either. I juth wandered around there, thinking about you.” He kissed her knuckles and she smiled a bit. He thought about her every moment like she did him? That still didn’t explain something though.

“How are you here then?” She asked quietly. He gave her hand little kisses that made her giggle a bit.

“Thomeone found me. Thee told me that you guyth were going to need me again. That I wathn’t done. Thee cath a thell on me and I woke up in my body in a cave thomewhere.” He stopped kissing her hand and looked up at her. “Do you know how I got in that cave?” She shook her head.

“I had no idea you had even died. You just stopped showing up at the door. I didn’t know what to think. I even put out a reward for information about you. You have a sign up in the post office, you know.” He grinned at her and kissed her wrist lightly.

“You thought a normal perthon would be able to find me?” His kisses slid up her arm until he wasn’t even fully putting his lips on her arm; gliding up her arm. She shrugged her shoulders.

“I had to do something to find you. You were gone for so long and Equius-”

“Equiuth?” Sollux mumbled at her shoulder and nipped at her shoulder with his teeth. She nodded her head.

“Yes. Equius has made me his matesprite.”

“Well,” Sollux whispered against her neck. “I’m going to have to show him that you’re mine. How do you think I should do that?”

She lifted his chin up to her face and raised her eyebrows laughingly. “By doing what you were wanting to do to my actual body. Not this ghost form.”

“Can you thneak out of your tent and meet me here again? Thith will be the only time I can interact with you before you guyth move.”

“Will you not be able to follow us?” she asked worryingly.

He shook his head. “No, I will be able to follow you guyth. It will look thuthpithith if you vithit me every night. We have to play it thafe. You only get to thee me onth a week. No one can know I’m alive. I’ll be your guardian angel.”

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his. “I don’t know if my body will be as reactive as you hope. I’m pretty dead there too.”

“You are right though. I want to do thomething with all of you. Your thirit can visit me whenever you want but your body can’t. Pleath, AA?” He asked. She laughed breathily and nodded.

“I’ll be back. Just, wait for me a little bit longer, my love.” She pulled away from him but he quickly kissed her hand.

“I’ll wait in the thky, my love.”

[blazehedgehog]

Have you read (or even heard of) Dominic Arsenault's book, Super Power, Spoony Bards, and Silverware? It's part of MIT Press's Platform Studies series. I haven't read it yet but if the premise in the publisher's synopsis is correct, Nintendo has been...well...Nintendo for longer than I thought.

I haven’t, but I’ve definitely heard that. I’ve linked this video before:

This is essentially a mini-documentary on Gunpei Yokoi’s involvement at Nintendo, which dates back to before the days Nintendo was a gaming company. There’s a particular anecdote I focus on here a lot, about Nintendo’s design philosophy, which is to strip something down to its barest essentials of fun.

The example given is when Yokoi designed a remote controlled car that could only turn left. Most race tracks were ovals, meaning you only ever turned to the left, and Nintendo saved money with more simplistic turning mechanisms versus the competition. The end result was an inexpensive toy that sold significantly better than the more expensive alternatives and thus made Nintendo considerably more money than if they had competed directly with their opponents.

For literally the company’s entire run producing video games, they have been faced with opposition trying to sell consumers on better hardware. Look at the Gameboy: it outlived all of its competition, even though almost all of them boasted greater color depth and more advanced technology. But none of them understood how or why Nintendo did things the way it did.

Nintendo has literally turned the “bare minimum” into kind of an art form, to the point where it’s not even fair to phrase it like that. They are just very efficient.

What this ultimately means is that Nintendo is insanely shrewd. It looks like Nintendo is out of touch on certain things, but really, they’re probably just trying to save every penny they can. Sony and Microsoft burn millions, if not billions of dollars establishing bleeding edge technology standards and courting the highest profile media conglomerates. Nintendo not only waits for guaranteed profits, they wait until they can get those guaranteed profits for as cheap as humanly possible. While that means Nintendo makes money hand over fist, they obviously miss the boat on a lot of key ideas when they’re still fresh.

I remember the statement that Wind Waker HD cost more to develop than the original game did. Think about that for a moment: porting an existing game cost more money than making the game originally. To me, that’s insane. Wind Waker HD does not “remake” anything about the original game. The download on Wii U is basically the size of a Gamecube disc. None of the textures were really updated, no new areas were added, and only a handful of gameplay tweaks were made. A lot of the data is pretty much identical, untouched. The update is mostly just a shader pack for the original Wind Waker to give it a more modern lighting engine.

And that cost more than developing the game originally. I feel like the most logical takeaway there is that the budget for the original Wind Waker was basically nothing. Certainly a far cry from the tens of millions of dollars contemporary games of that era cost. So, what, under five million dollars? Under one million dollars? We may never know for sure, but you can sure imagine some crazy low figures.

So, yes, “Nintendo being Nintendo” has been in the company’s DNA since long before Iwata took over as president, and even before Nintendo started making video games at all. 

Once you realize how shrewd Nintendo really is, a lot of what they do starts to make a lot more sense… though I don’t guarantee it’ll always make you feel good.

[krissykat420]

All the things I've needed to say

Hello, 

First of all I want to ask that you please bear with me and my words as I try my fucking hardest to slice my chest open with this paper and pour my heart out onto it at the same time. I've prayed for guidance and for you. 

I hate the words “I'm sorry” as they do nothing to convey if someone is sincerely and unconditionally sorry. Also, I've found myself using this phrase out of pure routine and avoidance....without any true feelings of sympathy or guilt. I've always been someone to refrain from recognizing and accepting my wrongs. My pride is high even if my self-esteem is low and I do agree that I display narcissistic traits. I often apologize to avoid dealing with an issue rather than honestly admitting my faults and accepting the shame guilt and remorse associated with them. I do have that ability I just choose to avoid it at times to feel like I am not to blame. I feel as if I am trying to explain someone who I have lived as and you have lived with....someone who you could so easily explain while I struggle to explain the nature of the girl staring back at me in the mirror. 

okay, I know that I have made enough jail references and it is becoming more of a distant experience instead of a recent challenge. However, I'm going to try to recall some of the nights I spent full of emotions with a bible in my lap and tears in my eyes trying to figure out how to make it in there and out here. I've always been codependent even though I claim independence and being forced to depend on myself and my God alone was what I needed to experience. I told myself regularly that jail was a necessity to my survival as God made it part of His plan for my life. I needed jail and I desperately needed to realize that I was not God and I was not able to decide the worth of others. It took me months to accept that I had made the decisions I had made and I had treated those who loved me most so fucking wrong. I still have a hard time believing that I was so cruel and cold. Feelings of pure shame and embarrassment sit at the bottom of my stomach every single day. I still try to mask these feelings by disregarding the severity of my actions and laughing at the story of it all. I am still learning how to cope outside of punishment and distance from those I hurt. I need to pray about this more and focus on the future rather than the damages of the past. 

I remember when things first began for us in every way. I remember hating you because you had a idgaf attitude that I actually envied. I remember the way you enjoyed life and focused on your happiness rather than meeting the needs of everyone else. Even down to sleeping with a damn ashtray because you do shit how you do it. I think that Ive always been attracted to you since I met you but different aspects have been highlighted over the years. Your personality and your mannerisms, your gestures, expressions, your behaviors all together attract me more than I could explain. I know that throughout our relationship arguments and attempts to change you were frequent as this happens with every relationship I have been in in the past. I am someone who likes to make projects out of people instead of finding a legit hobby to occupy my time and attention. I find myself so focused on avoiding my own issue and instead magnifying the “problems” I find within others. I hate that I do this because I know that I strive to be more open minded and accepting as a person all together. I find myself getting lost in the moment so often that I fail to realize patterns of my behaviors and the repeated consequences. I seriously have to create timelines in my head frequently to reflect on how insane my behaviors look. I want to stop this cycle so bad. I judge the person closest to me so much to avoid judging myself when that is who I need to be focused on instead. 

Anyways back to you, whenever I brought you to my house when you were avoiding my ex husband I did because I was uncomfortable with my choices and I wanted you to know what I was doing. I needed someone who cared to break that pipe and tell me I was fucking up and deserving of more. Its like someone who cuts their wrists but doesn't cover them up completely when going to school....so that its a call for help. I wanted you to care CJ. I know that I said that I purposely “got you addicted” but I lied to seem even more heartless than I was. I didn't have any premeditated thoughts of trying to get you addicted like I was however misery does love company and I was miserable inside and out. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts and I wanted someone who loved me around to lessen the guilt and shame that I felt inside. As time passed I pushed those feelings back and focused on my ego alone. I treated you so badly because I was in love with myself and who I had become at that time. I knew that if anyone could destroy my ego then it was you so I attempted to destroy yours first. I manipulated, abused and took advantage of you in every way possible because it fueled my ego. I was not only on a high from drug use but a high from false power and control. I honestly think that I allowed the devil to enter my life in ways that I never have before. I have had a faith in God since I was younger as I prayed to Him with full realization for the first time in the passenger seat of my moms old Honda car in our drive way one night when I was about 12 years old. I've given my testimony in front of my home church when I was younger and I've rededicated my life more than once. I turned my back on God when I was in high school and found God again in rehab. I know that I need a closer relationship with Him today as I became closer to him in jail and have distanced myself again since I was released. I never want to allow myself to become so lost again. I never want to have a disregard for life like I did before......testing God, thinking I was God at times and seriously playing with nothing but fire. 

Even though I have not made every right decision since I am a lot more aware of how scared I am of myself and who I have been in the past. I am trying my absolute best to focus on the present and live in the moment in a positive way. However the stress the unknown future does affect me and my choices. I am trying to be the best me I can be today. I am also trying my hardest to give you the best of me as well. I know that I've disappointed you but part of me knows that I am again falling back on the cutting wrist example given earlier. I desire affection and attention and I want that from you. I also need direction and discipline as I have lacked so much In the past but I also want that from you. I'm still clearly struggling with self discipline, self love (without drugs), and being content with myself. 

I know that no amount of words could ever compare to action and time to show that I am sincerely, honestly and completely dedicated to our happiness. I hope that I've given you some insight into the craziness of my mind. 

I think of our family, our happiness and the future I want for us so badly. I also feel so undeserving of this yet I know everyone deserves the best. CJ you are my best and I just want to be your best too. I promise I will die trying for not only you but my daughter as well. 

Lost story short, I'll die sorry for who I've been and I'll be forever burying that part of my past.

[magicallibary]

The Man That Fell in Love with The Moon

A/N: Hello! Hope you’re having a wonderful day! I’m feeling quite inspired myself so I’m doing quite a bit of writing today!

Word Count: 2445 Words Warnings: Not going to lie, the bit were the main character talks to the moon is slightly scary and it makes him seem a bit crazy. So, yeah, that.

Summary: Tim Green has always loved the moon but, who would’ve thought the moon felt exactly the same for him.

Since he was a young boy, Tim Green had looked up at the night sky in wonder. Something about the dark hues mixing and the small stars peeking from within the seemingly endless abyss made him feel curious and excited. Every day, as the sun began to set, he would sit by the largest window and scan the sky as it darkened, slowly. His eyes reflected the stars glow as his hand pressed against the glass, slightly feeling the night’s chill through the surface. Though, he found the sky beautiful, there was one thing that captured his gaze like nothing else: the moon. He found that as soon as his eyes found the round moon, he couldn’t move his eyes away. Every night he would find something new about the moon: how its light shone on his face softly, how clear it could look on some nights, how nicely the clouds passed by it…

Of course, Tim continued to grow up but, his adoration of the night never left him. Through his last years as a child, through his teenage years, all the way to his adulthood. He now lived by himself with a healthy job and the sharing company of his brand new cat. Still, he looked through his window at night, quickly finding the moon hiding as a beacon in the darkness. Tim sometimes found that he would murmur under his breath as his eyes remained perfectly still and opened. He never seemed to recall the short phrases he would whisper into the peaceful night, though.

Soon, he found that his adoration had grown to something more but, he didn’t really know what. He was smart enough to not question anyone about the matter as he wondered silently through the day. During one of those wondering days, he remembered a conversation he had with his parents long ago. He remembered how he commenced the conversation at quite a young age after a strange exchange with a girl at his studies.

“Mommy, daddy, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Tim,” his mother looked down at him, a soft look within her eyes, before kneeling beside him “you can ask anything.”

“What’s bothering our Timmy?” His dad kneeled too, running his hands through Tim’s hair quickly, making both males laugh for a short moment.

“A girl came up to me today,” he begun, a little uncertain as he spoke “she told me she had a ‘crush’ on me. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know what to do. The bell rang before I got to say anything and when I turned to look at her she was gone!”

“Well, it seems like that girl in your class likes you,” his mother explained “meaning, she’d like being with you romantically.”

“What?” Asked Tim, still confused. “Like you and dad? Do you too like each other?”

“No, I love your mother.” The father answered, a small smile forming in his lips.

“What’s the difference?”

“You could say love is more intense.” Begun his father,

“Yes, when you love someone it means you can see yourself them, no matter what happens. It means that you would stick around with them through their best and worst moments; helping them through however you can. And, if they love you as you love them, they’d help you with anything and everything too.” Finished the mother.

“But, I don’t feel that way about anyone,” said Tim, sadness in his voice “especially not Sally.”

Both his parents laughed quietly before his mother spoke again. “That’s alright, dear. She’s just not the one for you and, frankly, you're still quite young so, falling in love can wait. But, someday, you’ll find them, and your life will change completely when you do.”

Tim recalled the conversation and his brain began to connect different events together, like it was solving a complicated puzzle. He felt like he had cracked the code. He knew what his adoration had turned into: it was love!

To him, all the pieces were there. He couldn’t imagine his life without the moon’s presence. The moon’s pure glow had pulled him through the toughest and saddest days so, the moon had already done plenty for him. He had turned down better flats than his own because his view of the moon would be altered by the other flats’ windows. He had stopped referring to moon as ‘it’ a long time ago, the moon being a feeling companion to him for years. To him, it was clear: he was in love with the moon.

That night he felt even more excited to find the moon and to whisper to her how wonderful she made him feel. And that’s exactly what he did. He sat by the window, as every night before, his eyes finding who he adored the most, a love sick grin on his face. His lips parted slowly, words struggling to come out as a new found nervousness sat by his chest, making his body feel tense. Finally, he managed to force words out his throat.

“You always seem to be here for me. Your mere presence makes me feel better; no matter how terrible my day could have been. I feel like you’ve done everything you can for me and I can only hope I can offer the same to you. Oh, my moon, I can’t say anything to open myself up to you. You feel so close yet I know you’re really so far. I hope one day we can find each other face to face so, I could run my fingers through your silver locks as my father once did with my own hairs.”

Tim’s one sided conversation trailed along deep into the night, until he felt tired and decided to, finally, go to bed. His eyes fluttered closed with a peaceful smile on his lips. Little did he know, that the moon looked down at him, returning his every word in silence. Since the moon couldn’t speak to him as she wished, she decided to give him a gift.

The following morning, Tim woke up with a strange feeling. This feeling made his muscles feel strangely relaxed, as if a non existent weight had been removed. He strangely felt at the perfect temperature despite falling asleep to a freezing room. All of this was new and bizarre to Tim but, when he truly felt like he had gone insane is when he looked down to his feet and saw something that completely changed him.

Around his slippered feet, blue arrows flew around. The arrows pointed downwards and he soon noticed that all the objects around his room had the same arrows pointing downwards. He noticed how some of the arrows seemed thicker around some objects, especially the ones that were larger and locked heavier.

He went around his day, trying to find the meaning to all the lines. He quickly deduced that they were showing the gravity around every object and living thing. They also didn’t bother him too much, since they were almost completely transparent. Tim actually began to like it, strangely. He somehow felt superhuman, being able to physically see a natural phenomenon.

That night he, also, talked with his moon. Explaining to her the strange new experiences he had felt and seen throughout the day. He wondered to her if all he had experienced was her doing and, not only did he thank her if it was the case, but, he also asked her why. Of course, he didn’t expect to get an answer so, soon enough, he laid upon his bed like every night before and closed his eyes as sleep took over him.

The next morning there was a new gift for Tim from the moon. He again discovered it rather unexpectedly. He looked at his hand finding that the tips of his fingers had change. His skin tone had disappeared at the tips of his fingers, being replaced by a sparkly tone of silver. He noticed that tingling sensation where the color had changed as he moved his fingers. That night he, also, asked the moon if this was her doing and, again, he got no answer. As he expected.

For the third night in a row, the moon looked at Tim, gently, and spoke to him, even if he wouldn’t be able to listen. Suddenly, she had an idea for a new gift. So, she decided to gift him again but, this gift would, hopefully, benefit them both.

The next morning was anything but peaceful for Tim. He was awoken by a strange sound within his head that seemed to circle him. As he looked around his still darkened room looking for sound’s origin, a voice rang around his brain.

“Do not panic.” The voice clearly belonged to a female. Her pronunciation was slow and clear, her tone of voice sophisticated, charming and peaceful. It seemed like the voice was made out of the richest honey. Her words were released in a way that could make anyone feel secure and safe. A voice that could easily send someone to a peaceful sleep. Yet, Tim didn’t know this voice so, his body screamed at him to panic.

“Wh-What? Wh-Who are y-you? Wh-Where a-are you?”

“I’m very far away, for now. I’m only communicating with you. Only you can hear me. You can think your phrases, alright? No need to speak aloud. I can hear your thoughts.”

“H-How are y-you d-doing that? Who are you?”

“One would think you’d recognize the voice of the one you love but, then again, it’s the first time we speak.” Then the voice laughed. The voice laughed a laugh that could be the definition of charming and sweetness. It was the type of laugh that made you immediately smile as you heard it. The type of laugh that you wanted to hear again and again until it was implanted into your memory. The type of laugh that made your stomach flutter with love sick butterflies.

The laugh had caught Tim’s attention so much that it took him a while to bring meaning into her words. When he did though, his eyes widened in surprise as realization crashed into him.

“Wait. A-Are you… ?” The voice in his own head had trailed out, making him unable to finish his question. Luckily, the voice understood him.

“Yes. I am. It’s a pleasure to finally speak to you, Tim.”

“Well, you have a wonderful voice, my moon.”

“As do you, my light.” She giggled gleefully.

“Will we be able to actually see each other? One day?”

“I’m working on it,” the moon answered “I want nothing more, my love, but, I’ve found it to be quite challenging to do so. I’ve had to make you a little bit more like me to make it easier. I do apologize if it has cost you inconveniences.”

“This was you? Like the gravity lines? My fingertips? All of it was you?”

“Yes…”

“Why would you apologize for something so wonderful, my moon? I should be thanking you!”

Their conversation continued through the day as they laughed at each other’s stories. Tim had never felt happier and he was almost a hundred percent certain that he was in love with her. He wanted to be certain, though. He wanted to know that he was perfect for her and that she was perfect for him. He wanted to feel that perfection between them.

And the moon wanted exactly that too.

That night, she wanted to surprise him so, as he got ready for bed, she tried her hardest to make both their dreams come true. And that’s exactly what she did.

After he finished brushing his teeth, he sat by his window looking for the moon only, to not find her. He desperately asked for her inside his head, panicking as the seconds ticked by. Not long had passed and he was already missing her presence.

“Where are you?” He whispered aloud, a tone of sadness coating his voice. His eyes closed in sorrow.

“Right here, my love.” A familiar voice answered. Tim quickly noticed how the origin of the voice wasn’t within his head but, he noticed how the voice echoed around the room like, she was behind him…

He turned around, a hope bubbling inside his chest. His eyes landed on the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes upon. Her skin was the same glittering silver that had formed by his fingertips. Her hair was dark, long and perfectly curled. It framed her figure in the best way possible. A white long gown laid on her shining skin with matching jewelry around her wrists and neck. Her eyes seemed to sparkle like a million stars lived within them.

They stepped towards each other, smiling brightly. As they stood face to face, Tim brought his hand up to touch her hair. He had never felt anything so silky and smooth between her fingertips and his smile widened at seeing her own grow as his fingers explored her long curls as well as her eyes fluttering peacefully. Her eyes opened once again a few moments later, her face nearing his own before pulling pack and turning around, her back to him.

“No, I can’t. You’ll be forced to be like me. I couldn’t force that upon you. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I want you to. I need you to. It’s the only way.” He placed his hands at her arms, gently turning her around. Her hands wrapped around his neck slowly as her eyes settled on his. Her face neared his, hesitantly, before he took matters into his own hands. He quickly placed his lips on top of hers, feeling her smooth lips on his made him smile into the kiss. Then, he knew. He knew he was truly in love with her and that nothing could take him away from her. His moon.

He pulled away slowly, opening his eyes to find her looking at him with a sad smile. His lips were now like hers; sparkly and silver and soon his skin began changing to match her own.

“It’s started,” she said, a tear hanging from her eye “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I promise, it’s alright.”

They both banished in a flash, only to reappear somewhere else; high above the ground. Tim looked around him, only to find stars and his love beside him. He reached his hand towards her own and she took it, interlocking their fingers.

Meanwhile, the rest of the world looked up in wonder and confusion at the second moon that had appeared in the sky, right next to the other one.

[commentairesnegligeables]

On the saying “be aware of your mental health”

⚠️Warning: triggering post ahead⚠️not for people with weak mind⚠️

Note that on this post everytime i said “help” it means therapist/people who say they are expert on mental illness. Of course, though, to seek help and company from people around you—friends, family, siblings, close people you know, when youre in doubt or struggling or feeling down or in need of support emotionally or anything, this doesnt have to be questioned—it is something of a must. Why? Cause humans are social beings. They are dependant to others. Therefore everytime i say “help” on this post i really just mean mental help (therapist/people who will diagnose you with mental illnesses).

The thing that i observed, of what causes mental health issue, is the inability to know the identity of oneself.

In order to live, the first thing one should know and make peace with isnt the environment, or family, or ones brain, or anything, but themselves.

Once someone cant do this, they simply become questionnable as an individual.

How can you be born in this world, have the ability to think of cracking down things to even the simplest, and yet you cant even deal with, understand, and know your own self—the thing closest to you? The thing that is actually yourself? The thing that matters the first?

It might seem like a pity, but more than it is a pity, it is an individual choice.

Every individual should deal with themselves. No one should tell them how, no one should tell them they “cant” and that they need help of drugs in order to deal with themselves. I feel that the moment they feel they cant, and that they need help, is the moment it becomes their choice, and that they have lost themselves.

Is losing oneself something good? Is it that when someone is depressed, i should have pity on them and treat them differently, even when its their choice?

People say its not their choice, but it is. It is ones fault that one lost temselves. Everyone is given intelligence, ability to think. What is this world? What is the purpose of this world? What is the purpose of me? What is right and wrong? With the ability, if someone still cant figure out life, once again, it is their choice.

One of the phrase that i found very dislikable is that we should be aware of our mental health.

What does that even mean?

We should be aware of our mental health, and then what? When i am sad, i can be sad, if i want to cry, i can cry, if i want to be upset and angry, let me be upset and angry, if i am happy, then let me be, if i feel deep sadness, no one can stop me, but someone can do all this without having to lose themselves. Someone can do all this while controlling it. What is this saying we should be aware of ourselves?

Should we be, sad and crying on the floor, sad and crying on our pillow, and then we question ourselves: am i in deep sadness? And then we seek the answer to someone else? Is this what “being aware” means?

How can someone else know us better than ourselves? Why should i believe someone who thinks they “studied” human psychology, whilst i myself am human and i am given the ability to control my psychology, telling me i am like this and like that.

No one can control their physical stuff, virus gets inside your throat and makes you sick, your kidney is worn out and you dont take care well so they malfunctioned, but how can mental—something that doesnt even have physical form, something that cant permanently unchange, wear out and leave you be just like that? It is not even something separated from you. It is you.

We should be aware of our mental health, that is right, but it means nothing. Everyone has done this ever since the first time human existed. It is not something new. Theyre always aware. Are they sad? Are they happy? Are they raising their chin high up and being brave?

The only difference is instead of questioning their ownselves, they control their own selves. Is controlling your ownself something forced?

No, it is naturality.

In the past, people seek for immortality, tales were told about this thing and that which can make someone immortal, in the past people lost their parents in young ages, go to war, and in Islam a hadith said one of sign of the end day is that people look at grave and say “if only i was the one that is in that place”.

I am not at all saying what happened in the past was all good, most were even bad, i will say. I am just saying people in the past lived in worse condition but they managed, and whats “glorified” is of cherishing life.

So, what caused everything to change?

1. The idea that people have had mental issues since long time but they “hid” it.

2. Glorification of mental health issues as if its really something urgent, when its not even something new (in the sense that, in most times everyones “mental health” is fine thats why we never thought about it much and only in this mOdERN thInkInG ScHEmE we are told to figure whether we are fine or not).

3. Individualistic, materialistic, atheistic, way of life.

My opinions on those:

1. Once again mental health is not diagnosed and then unchangeable, it is controlled. Someone can be a whiner and if theyre told to go to army they will be strong. It is built, it is trained, not given. In the past, in the future, this concept still hasnt changed that it thrills me whenever someone thinks mental health is not part of them and that they need someone else to “fix” it. If mental ilnness is such a big deal in lives of people of common society we wouldve heard much about it in the past about people who couldnt “function” or live like other people normally. We dont hear about them, much, because they were not told that they mightve had mental issues, instead they just lived usual. In other hand we know well that people in the past had physical illnesses—black plague, or anything, it was physically there and we heard it a lot. Or we mightve heard in some tales about people who were insane, crazy, outcasted. But NOT mass of people who couldnt function normally and deemed abnormal. Its because the truth is mental illness is nothing. Someone might have severe depression, or someone might have depression in lives, but chance to have severe depression is very low, and chance to have depression that makes you need medication is as low. You dont need medication. Just live.

2. The one that made it widespread, as ever, are leftists people. I just recently played tumblr but i have heard a lot about this tumblr movement that happened long time ago, lets call them SJW. SJW are social justice warriors and they went to tumblr, but i heard now theyre dominating twitter. So when they were in tumblr they think they were “quirky” and “unique” and they mostly were weird people. And on basis of political correctness they started bring about the idea that LGBT is fine. But not just that, this “be aware of your mental health” and post-modern feminism and “abortion is a choice” also started. Political correctness is so much of people who are too emotional and they use their brain and logic less. I know i sound biased, you can do research on your own if you want. I also have theory on how these people who played tumblr mostly were women, cause as far as i know around that time men played video games usually. But that will make it long.

Just im saying that this “be aware of your mental health” stuff doesnt just occur naturally as evolution/progress of advancement of thoughts. It was brought about politically, by people who think they are the most right, when they are the ones knowing things less, romanticize everything, they are like toddler who figure out new things and think that is what is most right, you can go to twitter and figure. This all though, is just my conclusion based on my own observation of the world.

3. Say no more, these all are just characteristics of the west, unfitting for outside of west world. Individualism rarely happens outside west (with exception) and people always have someone to tell problems to—friends, family, close people. Individualistic society will be more prone to not having anyone and therefore has to go to therapist to talk about their problem. Someone once said though religion cant stop mental health but that is such a joke. As i have stated, to know and control your own mental is to know yourself and your identity. If you are an ugly person and you dont think youre ugly, if someone says to you that you are ugly, then you will not even feel bad for yourself. If someone tells you we are living in void and that this world is so bad and that theres no point of living, if you understand those sayings are wrong, then you will not drown in the same bitterness as they do right? In this world and life everyone and everything will tell and say many things to you throughout your life, and if you cant even think on your own whether theyre right or should you listen to them, i dont even know how you live. Anyhow, the right religion will tell you purpose of life so if you are given purpose of life and you still feel life is so pointless, you are not taking the religion seriously.

I have quiet grown tired of writing, so i will just state what to do to help yourself so you wont eat all these pointless “be aware of your mental health” slogans:

1. Understand that psychology is not exact science and therefore not completely reliable. Sorry to break it to you. I myself am a hardcore unbeliever of psychological study. Unless someone cant think straight (insane), theres no need to rely on what psychology says about oneself. Its not even science. If biology says youre having cancer, then youre having cancer. But if psychology says youre diagnosed with this and that, its just cringe. How do you know? Is the “depressed cell” there and shows themselves to you through microscope? Psychologists dont even know sometimes that psychology is not exact science.

2. Psychology is not a unique or unreachable field. In the sense of its not worth to “understand thoroughly” about it that you think you need to ask expert if you dont. Rule about psychology is just: humans are divided into two, people who can think straight and cant think straight (sane and insane). As long as youre sane, you have the ability to control what you do and yourself. Thats all.

3. Know yourself and your identity. If you are asked, who are you? What is your identity? You should know. If not, youre a confused person and you will for sure think for nights if someone says to you “you are narcissist”, you will think you really are even when its not true.

4. Dont rely on forced positivity to escape fear of having mental illness. Forced positivity dont help😐just acknowledge out there people live normally without having to have so much positivity to survive. Why? Because too much positivity is not normal.... just be yourself and live

5. Fix yourself. Do you feel youre a narcissist? Do you feel you have one of those traits of being mentally ill? Then make those traits gone. Dont think that you are permanently mentally unstable and therefore need help. No. Help yourself first.

6. To feel is ok. Be sad, be happy, be angry, cry all you want. But just acknowledge that you can control yourself, cause you have ability to be sane. After letting those all go, youre fine again.

7. Everyone makes mistakes. Did you make mistake just yesterday? Did you make mistake that made whole world hates you? Its totally fine. Just promise to yourself, instead of to people, that you will improve and will not make the same mistake again. That is right, it reminds me,

8. Everyone feels what you feel. Do you some times feel deep sadness? Do you some times feel so hopeless that probably die is best thing? Do you feel things that you think people dont feel? Dont worry, everyone feels it in some times of their lives. Just cause someone looks fine the whole time doesnt mean they are in fact fine the whole time and doesnt feel like how you feel about stuff. This world is not really a good place so it will torture everyone. You are not different, so dont feel different. You are normal. Indulging in emotions thinking people dont feel the same emotion will just make you lose yourself. People are not fine in a day, and they will be fine in another day, and they feel happy in another day, its just life.

9. Dont live up to peoples expectation. Of course its not like if your parents want you to be good kid then you shouldnt live as good person. I mean to say, if society expect you to be like this and that, but theres no benefit in acting as they do, then nothings wrong with you if you dont do as they do. Just understand what is right and wrong and that is enough.

10. Be determined about your stance. Dont get easily influenced. Know what you stand for by thinking about it thoroughly.

11. Be comfortable with yourself.

12. You are who you think you are. Fake it til you make it. Be fine until you are really fine.

13. Youre the only one who can save yourself. People will help you, but the choice to be saved and become fine again can only be done by you. No one but your own self is going to come and “save” you.

My point of writing this is that, most people in the world are sane and not mentally ill/sick in severe sense til they need pSyChIAtrIsT help. One of question i heard much is that “so what if people think they have mental illness? Whats in it for you to judge them?” Well first of all it will create generation of weak minded people that think they need help for anything. Second is that i just feel sorry when someone who is fine mentally comes accross this kind of thing and they start thinking whether theyre “mentally normal” or not. One of the funny experience i had is when i was just googling on why cats are so cute and on quora someone says its because humans are masochist so they like cats biting and clawing them (and he got many votes)🤦‍♀️i really feel pity for him probably being sure what he said is true. If people are masochist, they will pet tigers or crocodiles instead. The truth is, hearing about probability of having mental illness without actually understanding it will make you paranoid. So i write this to let everyone know, that probability is the lessest thing. Unless you live in full tragedy, chance is you are fine and will continue to be so.

Indulging in psychology is not worth it if for common people, for people who have mental disturbance (crazy/insane) then ok but for commoners who once again have ability to think sane and are given intelligence, its such a waste of time to question whether one is “normal” or not. If you are able to think logically and know what is right and wrong then that is enough.

People are not so different from each other.

Even therapists who understand the truth will know that psychology and therapists are semi-real and therefore useless for common society unless in the case of people with severe cases

[anakinsbugs]

The Great CPC Hoax: Why Cost Per Click Doesn’t Matter for High-ROI Ad Campaigns

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The Great CPC Hoax: Why Cost Per Click Doesn’t Matter for High-ROI Ad Campaigns

People always ask me the same question about AdWords:

“What’s a ‘good’ cost per click?”

My response back to them is always the same:

“Why do you care?”

See, most people have AdWords wrong. They obsess over the costs.

They know that more and more competitors are advertising on the platform, which drives up prices.

So they’re zeroed-in on how much they’re going to have to spend.

That’s the wrong approach.

Instead, they should be concerned with what they’re going to get back in return.

I know this sounds counterintuitive. However, I almost never worry about the Cost Per Click for keywords.

In fact, I almost always ignore them.

I’m going to show you why CPC’s don’t matter in many cases. I’ll show you how worrying about keyword costs can mislead you time and time again.

Then, I’ll show what you should be analyzing to make sure you’re not leaving tons of money on the table.

Why Cost Per Click Doesn’t Matter (and What to Analyze Instead)

Each year, companies analyze the most expensive keywords in the country.

These are typically competitive phrases in law or insurance and can cost as much $50 for just a single click.

The insane thing is almost none of those clicks will turn into customers immediately.

Instead, they’ll usually opt-into a form, first.

That means you might have to front the bill for 50 or 100 clicks before someone ever converts.

We’re talking thousands of dollars for a single customer.

It makes sense on the surface; CPC ultimately determines how much you need to spend.

WordStream

, for example, always releases an annual update on Cost Per Click benchmarks across industries.

The businesses I own are all software-related. But we work with clients across different industries. So it’s always interesting to look at these cost breakdowns.

Average ecommerce CPC’s might only be around a dollar, while law might run up to around six dollars (these are higher than most

Bing Shopping campaigns

, which should be considered for e-commerce businesses as well).

To be honest, though, I don’t obsess over costs, alone.

The first reason comes down to what the study says at the top: Averages.

Average CPCs don’t really mean all that much.

Popular, generic terms aren’t usually all that expensive.

Only a tiny percentage of the people who ever click on those will convert. Whereas, a more commercial

long-tail keyword

will be incredibly expensive.

Just compare the difference in costs between “tax” and “file back taxes”:

See? It’s not even close.

That makes it hard to use a standard, “industry average benchmark” for any in-depth analysis.

There’s another reason why I don’t like to just look at costs — because you’re often forgetting the other side of the equation.

Conversions ultimately have a much bigger impact than costs.

Now, let’s check out those

industry average conversions

from the same study:

Ok, now we’re getting a little closer.

If you remember, the industry average CPC for ecommerce was only around a dollar. In fact, it was one of cheapest CPC’s on the entire list.

But if you now look at the average conversion rates, you’ll see why.

Their conversion rates are also among the lowest.

What does it matter if CPCs are ‘inexpensive’ if the conversions are equally low?

That’s why you often want to look at the

Cost Per Action

(or Acquisition) when putting together advertising estimates.

This is the effective price you pay to generate a lead, for instance.

It’s a performance ratio. It starts to take into account things like costs vs. conversions to help you determine a much better figure: ROI.

The industry average Cost Per Action for ecommerce lines up with education on the search network.

So from an ROI standpoint, there’s almost no difference.

This is why CPC is almost meaningless.

Yes, it’s important to a point because it drives things like your Cost Per Action.

However, what’s ultimately more important is the revenue you can generate.

It doesn’t matter whether we’re talking about

Google AdWords

, Facebook, or even Twitter ads. The message is still the same.

Digital Marketer

once ran a Twitter Lead Gen campaign, testing the effective Cost Per Action (or Lead).

One campaign was able to see a $7.81 cost per lead.

They then ran the same study with the same ad and audience targeting. But this time, they optimized the campaigns to increase conversions.

It generated a $1.38 Cost Per Lead, which came out to a five time lead increase on the same ad budget.

They were able to 5X conversions simply by focusing on conversions and Cost Per Lead. They didn’t even have to touch the CPC.

You can see this time and time again.

Jacob Baadsgaard of Disruptive Advertising confirms that the

best PPC metrics are revenue-focused

. They track lead data all the way through to closed sales.

Then, and only then, will they make a decision about which ad campaign is best.

It’s not that costs don’t matter. They do, of course. But they only matter in context to how much revenue you can generate from it.

Here’s a very simple example to illustrate.

Let’s say you run two ad campaigns side-by-side.

The Cost Per Click for the second campaign is twice as much as the first. But because the conversion rate is 2% instead of 1%, you’re able to double revenue.

Would you pay twice as high a Cost Per Click to generate twice as much revenue? Of course you would!

This is after reducing revenue by your ad costs. So it’s already accounting for the higher ad budget.

At the end of the day, you’re still doubling revenue. It’s totally worth it!

Obsessing over CPC doesn’t just leave money on the table. It can also make you waste a ton of what you’re already spending.

Here are a few examples.

Obsessing Over CPCs Can Make You Pull The Plug Too Early (or Too Late)

There are many things that separate big companies from small ones.

But here’s one of the biggest: Big companies spend more on advertising than small ones do.

Duh, right? Of course big companies have bigger budgets.

We’re not just talking about dollars spent, but percentage of revenue

Salesforce, the world’s biggest CRM company, spends up to

46 percent of their budget on marketing and advertising

!

Crazy, right?

The question is why?

Why don’t small companies spend more on advertising?

In my experience, I find that they’re often too risk averse.

They don’t have the same access to capital. So they tend to obsess over costs, as opposed to revenues.

The classic scenario is when a business owner spends a few hundred bucks on

new Facebook ads

, only to conclude that they “Don’t work” five days later.

So they pull the plug too early.

In almost all cases, they just need to let the campaigns run longer.

Jennifer Shaheen found that campaigns should

run at least 45 days

before stopping. And that makes sense when you think about it.

Look at it this way.

How many sales do you need to break even? Let’s hypothetically say two or three.

So what are the chances that those two or three sales land in the first few days?

Pretty slim!

It’s the law of averages at work. You need a big sample size before numbers start to meet projections.

It’s going to take a few weeks, at least, to get

statistically significant numbers

. Otherwise, you’re just guessing.

All of this assumes that you know the ‘right’ ad campaign variables ahead of time. Which, in all likelihood, you don’t.

Not because you’re not smart. But because it takes awhile to figure these things out!

Here’s the other thing:

Many times, you actually need to increase ad spend.

Yes, you heard me right.

Listen, the reason you spend money on advertising is to make money — not save it.

That means you need to get to statistical significance as quickly as possible.

For example, go check out a few CPC ranges for keywords you’re about to bid on.

I like to use

Ubersuggest

to get a this data:

The average CPC for “analytics software” is estimated to be around $12.85 Ok, not bad I guess.

Let’s use that as the upper limit. We can create

automated rules

in the Facebook Business Manager.

If you’re having a hard time hitting those numbers, you can set a rule to actually increase CPCs.

That will make sure I get better placement over the competition and as many conversions as possible.

Here’s how that might look inside

AdEspresso

:

Of course, this approach isn’t ideal.

Because you still might leave a lot of money on the table.

If your CPCs start edging up, the campaigns will back off or stop.

Then your lead flow will stop, too.

That’s why I like using CPAs as targets if possible, instead of CPCs.

Watch CPA Instead of CPC

Cost Per Action is a better performance than Cost Per Click.

It’s not as good as Revenue, though–and there’s the problem.

CPAs can still be subjective.

Is a ‘high’ CPA bad? Maybe, maybe not.

If your CPA is over $100 in ecommerce, that might be bad.

Almost every single campaign CPA will be over $100 in law, for example. So it’s not bad at all.

Its still a much better metric to control ad campaign performance, though.

You can still figure out an upper range that starts to make ad campaigns unprofitable. You’ll base this on your average sale per customer. (More on this later.)

For starters, you can set automated rules to increase or decrease the total budget based on your CPA.

Inside AdWords, you can go to “Bulk Actions” and create new “Rules” for these ranges:

Under “Change budgets,” you can set an automated rule to either increase or decrease budgets based on cost per conversion numbers.

This tells AdWords to automatically increase your daily budget 25 percent if the CPA is within a certain dollar range.

You can do this same exact strategy inside Facebook, too.

You’ll set a rule to increase, decrease, or stop a campaign if the CPA hits a certain threshold.

Managing ad campaigns by CPA can net you more customers and revenue.

There’s still one big section we’re forgetting.

Keyword pricing or competitive pressure aren’t the only factors to worry about.

Many times, your customer base could be going through their own issues, and that’s not something you can change.

That’s why focusing on revenue is always the best approach.

Increase the Revenue-Side of the Equation to Overcome Outside Factors

Spearmint Love is one my favorite success stories.

They went from a baby blog to growing revenue over

991% year over year

, and they did it almost exclusively through

Facebook

and

Instagram ads

.

The craziest part is that it almost didn’t happen.

They were growing like a weed, until…everything just stopped.

Results were declining across the board and they couldn’t figure out why.

Until, one day while on a walk, it dawned on one of the co-founders.

Parents will buy baby clothes until that baby grows up. In other words, their customers were kind of ‘moving on’ from the company.

The ad campaign decline had nothing to do with costs or his ad campaigns per se.

It had everything to do with their customer base.

How on Earth do you solve this problem?

By focusing on increasing revenue — not touching costs.

If the CPA is ‘too high’ to make your numbers work, start by increasing average order values.

Upsells are easy, for example, when you bundle similar products.

Think about the last time you flew somewhere. Chances are, you bought a travel-sized product at a store before going through TSA.

But that product probably only cost a few bucks, right?

Check out what

Jack Black

does here, bundling several travel products together.

You arguably need all of these products if you’re flying somewhere.

Instead of only charging you a few bucks each, they’re charging you $35 for the whole pack!

Simply bundling similar products allows them to charge 10x more. Which means you can afford a much higher initial advertising cost now, too.

You can also cross-sell products to try and raise the average order value.

For example, right underneath this travel bundle, Jack Black offers a few related products to take with you:

One interesting thing to note is the price of all three items. They’re all slightly less than the initial $35 purchase.

Why?

They’re using price anchoring effect to make these additional products seem less expensive.

The Economist included a middle pricing

tier for a print-only subscription. It was the same exact price as the ‘big’ plan for both the print and web editions.

Most people chose the combined third option because it seemed like the best deal.

Removing the middle plan on a subsequent test, however, led people to

overwhelmingly pick the cheap option

, instead.

Price anchoring changes someone’s perception of cost vs. value.

That’s why you should lead with the more expensive option. Then, showcase a few related products to cross-sell that are slightly less expensive.

Spearmint Love also expanded their product line to increase average order values.

They came out with decor pieces, like hundred-dollar baby lamps.

The age of a child mattered less in this type of purchase. So it kept the company relevant longer in their eyes of their customers.

After increasing average order values, you should increase the lifetime value of each customer.

One technique is a

vintage analysis

, which shows you which customer cohorts are worth the most already.

This way, you can identify trends or patterns.

You can see what the most lucrative customers are doing and then apply those lessons across the board.

Constantly acquiring new customers is expensive. You have to

spend a lot more

to get them to buy.

Increasing repurchases from your existing customers has a massive impact on your bottom line.

Let’s revisit that initial ad model to see why.

Keep in mind this is a simplistic example. But I think it still does a decent job showing how this works.

The first campaign has a higher initial cost; you’re barely breaking even.

This is what most companies are scared of. They worry about spending more money on keywords.

As a result, they completely neglect optimizing conversions, average order values, or repurchases.

So yes, they might bring in a few sales. But the higher costs deplete their ad budget before long.

The end result is a wash.

The second campaign has a higher average order value.

In this case, you’re not even

getting more conversions

. All you’re doing is bundling a product, for example.

Already, you’re back in the black. Not bad.

However, the third campaign?

Not only are the average order values higher, but you’re getting more repeat purchases, too.

You’re basically generating more purchases from the same number of customers. Many times, you don’t even have to spend a single dollar to get them.

All you have to do is send out an

email campaign

. These loyal customers don’t take a lot of extra persuading.

More sales, without increasing ad costs, skyrockets revenue.

You make several times the other few campaigns.

Best of all, you didn’t sweat a single CPC. You willingly paid at the top-end of the budget range to maximize your opportunities.

Then, you doubled-down on the other side of the equation.

Increasing conversions and revenue spent can act as a lever to

double or triple ad campaign ROI.

Conclusion

There’s only one reason to spend money on ads at the end of the day: to make money.

Chasing the keywords with the lowest CPC is a losing proposition.

If anything, you should be spending more money. You should actually search out the highest CPC’s in your industry.

Why?

Often, they offer the most potential. You want to maximize the most sales per dollar spent.

So you know all those “industry benchmark CPC” numbers? Don’t worry about them.

Instead,

start focusing on CPA

. That’s the number it costs for you to acquire each new customer.

It’s not perfect by any stretch. But it’s a better number to optimize around than CPC.

From there, try to dig into revenue numbers.

Can you bundle a few products to raise the average order value? Can you cross-sell recommended products and use price anchoring to lower their perceived cost?

Then, figure out how you can keep customers around longer.

That might mean introducing new, related product lines. Or it might mean introducing ‘consumable’ products that people need to repurchase again and again and again.

The point is to

drive up the lifetime value of each customer

as high as possible.

When you do that, CPC will matter even less.

There will be so much revenue generated per customer that you can afford to spend almost anything to get them in the first place.

How have you boosted ad campaign performance by focusing on conversions instead of costs?

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SEO – unlock massive amounts of SEO traffic. See real results.

Content Marketing – our team creates epic content that will get shared, get links, and attract traffic.

Paid Media – effective paid strategies with clear ROI.

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Go to Source Author: Neil Patel