#this is so delusional that it sounds like a troll but i promise they were serious

[hijackalx]

the funniest piece of casual misogyny in the bg3 fandom ive ever seen was somebody saying that astarion is canonically nicer to male tavs than he is to female tavs. as in implying that larian redid the motion capture and rewrote the script SPECIFICALLY for when astarion is interacting with female tavs to make sure everyone would be aware of how much he hates women. how are u so misogynistic that u start hallucinating that ur fav character is misogynistic too

[zombiechoir]

The only question i'm asking myself right now is: Did i get better at managing grief or am i fooling myself?

I know damn well what the reality is but i don't feel it. Maybe it's self protection. But when i look at him, i see a man that is not dead, not really. I see a silly man with a bass guitar that i love dearly and owe allot of my sanity to.

The thing is that i'm terrified of death bacause it comes with one of my biggest fears, which is forgetting. Forgetting what someone looked like, forgetting what they sounded like, what they did, the memories, the first day of meeting, the little things. So when someone passes (human or animal) that was dear to me, i need to pay as much attention to them as possible. Memorials, photo's, crafts, stories because forgetting feels like the biggest betrayel I could ever do.

When I read about Reita, I just got off work and I had plans that evening and I had exactly one hour to get ready. Dinner was gonna be ready in 10 minutes and to kill time I opened tumblr only to immediately see the news. I googled it cause people are trolls but it turned out to be true. So I broke down, cried while eating (that combo is painful af), made myself presentable and off we went. My mom and I had tickets to see our favorite comedian, front row. The fucking irony!!!!! While we were waiting for it to start I was reblogging memorial stuff to calm myself. I actually managed to have a good evening and even laughed out loud at the jokes. I thought of Reita plenty of times during the show, I thought of Uruha, Aoi, Kai and Ruki. I thought of 4 people on stage instead of 5. I thought of the promise I made with myself to see them live one day, to get vip tickets and crochet each of them a silly gift. It went back and forth, "hahaha funny joke" to "omfg not our beloved Reita". I've managed to hold myself together pretty well this week. I had allot of crying session, cried full on at my workplace. But my desk is facing the wall and I'm a very silent cryer so no one noticed.

Tbh that exact day I was thinking of how much I hated life. And how fucked up I've felt and how fed up I was with everything. How I feel like things will never be okay and the thought of "making a plan" crossed my mind. Reita's passing brought me back to my senses, like babygirl wtf are you doing??? It made me realize there's so much to live for still, that rude strangers aren't important. The only things that matter are the things and people I love. Reita is one of those people and it made me forget about recent shitty events and only focus on that silly man with that bass and the noseband. Maybe I'm delusional, maybe it hasn't hit me fully yet. But I can't help but feel so grateful for this man. Grateful for discovering this band, to hear that bass he provided. Grateful to be alive and to keep going. I want to live as long as possible to remember all the things I loved for as long as possible. He did that for me, in life he comforted me during my anxiety and depression. And in his death he comforted me again but in a different way. And I want to keep that feeling and take it with me♡ Thank you wonderful bass man, with your goofy and bright personality. Rest well, you won't be forgotten.

[sailordiavolo]

suicide prevention month 2021 - things that helped me stay alive

i heard that this month is suicide prevention month in the united states. as someone who’s struggled for many years with suicide myself, and is currently in the mystical “better place”, i feel it’s my duty to open this can of worms. i am unafraid of the stigma that comes with discussing such things.

i’ll go over things that helped me to cope during dark times. these may also apply to being depressed in general (?) because no offense but “drinking water” doesn’t help as much as google seems to think it does. note that these aren’t be all end all solutions, more like techniques that helped me to stay sane on some of my worst days.

1. get rid of everything that’s an immediate danger to your health.

if you’re actively a danger to yourself, safety-proof your home. don’t keep sharp objects lying around, or anything dangerous of the like. get rid of anything toxic or chemical, and don’t keep medicines in excess.

2. if you can’t make yourself happy, try to mildly amuse yourself instead

thinking “happy thoughts” doesn’t really work for me, especially if i’m in the throes of a depressive episode. i do have many things that make me happy, but i seem to forget about all of them in dark times. that being said, really dumb jokes get me every time. if i can make myself laugh, smile or chuckle, i’ve already made it 10 times easier for myself. and if i can do that, usually it’s easy to make myself forget about the original reason i was upset in the first place.

dear reader, i don’t know what would count as “mildly amusing” to you, but here’s some things that work for me.

i have a self care playlist on youtube. mine’s pretty dumb, but making a playlist like that of things that you find entertaining or amusing might help. another amazing one is distantcry’s worst beat ever collection.

very specific songs that really get me going include metrostation’s shake it, botdf’s bewitched, rm’s expensive girl, and she past away’s ruh.

3. do some self care activities

self care is very very important. when you feel like you’re absolute worst, that’s a free pass to be as selfish as you need to be until you feel better. no job, no person, no drama is worth dying over. all of that can wait until after you’re finished what you’re doing. if you’re not really sure what to do as self care activities, i’ll list some suggestions.

take a hot bath, if possible. if you have the resources, add bubbles, flower petals, bathe salts or candles. i did this the other day and sat in the bath and ate crumpets. it was amazing. if not, have a steaming hot shower. (i know it’s hard to find the energy, but it’ll help, i promise)

watch your favourite childhood show, or your favourite show at the moment, or play a video game.

sleep all day, or take the day off.

eat your favourite food, or the best food available to you right now.

spend some money if you have it. personally, i never spend all my money in a week, i save some in case i have a panic attack or something so then i can spend money on something totally random to make myself feel better.

change up your appearance. i usually end up cutting my hair short or randomly dying it, but this can also mean dressing in a way that makes you feel good, painting your nails, or doing your makeup.

4. know how to comfort yourself

this is related to the last one but knowing what brings you comfort is very important. it took me a very long time to figure out what things i find comforting. list the things that you find comforting, and you can use those to help yourself feel better. it might be music, interests, even something abstract.

if you can’t think of anything, then make sure to pay attention to things that make you feel nice/comforted, and list them down. it’s also important to know what will send you over the edge, so you can avoid it.

5. distraction topics

this may help with anxiety as well, but having distraction topics can help you to calm down and forget about what you were worried about. it’s good to have a few distraction topics up your sleeve in case of emergency. i’ll list a few of my favourites, but if you ever need one don’t be afraid to ask me directly, or send me an ask on my blog! i have a ridiculous amount of misc knowledge just floating around.

dinosaur fossils of mothers protecting their nest have been found, meaning that dinosaurs probably felt some form of motherly love. love on earth is billions and billions of years old. creatures have loved each other on this planet since before the dawn of history. imagine being the first organism to love on this planet and what that must’ve been like

some cave paintings were animated. they had different frames painted over each other, and the flickering of a flame in the cave would cause the images to appear as if they were moving. isn’t that extremely profound?

i saw somewhere, that scientists attempted to see what an electron was made out of, or something to that effect. it’s made of a pool of energy, which is essentially nothing. no form, no matter. everything is made out of nothing.

6. romanticise your future

a lot of us probably don’t have a concept of the future, or if we do, it’s something that sounds absolutely horrible. well, forget about that! think instead about how hot n sexy you’ll be in your 30’s, 40’s, etc. don’t worry about how you’ll get there for now, your future self can take care of that. think about your ideal life, and get excited like it’s absolutely going to happen. the more you think about it, the more it will become true.

7. romanticise your current self

nobody in your life understands you? that’s because you’re the hot brooding mysterious one. struggle with very dark thoughts? omg you’d be so powerful as a jujutsu sorcerer. people are staring? it’s because they’re in love with you. people whispering as you go by? also in love with you. no friends? the universe had to keep you humble because otherwise you’d be too perfect. hate the way you look today? you’re just a littel troll babie. the more amusing these thoughts are, the better. and if you think these things for long enough, eventually it will trick your brain into thinking it’s true. who’s gonna check you? the telepaths?

8. put things into perspective

i am prone to delusional thoughts when i’m panicked, and i have to remind myself to reel it in. think about it, you’re more afraid of answering the phone than you are of death? doesn’t sound very cash money of you, bro.

think about how many years you’ve really lived, especially if you think you’ve failed in life. take 12 years off your age, because childhood doesn’t count. also take off any other years which you were forced to live the way someone else wanted you to live, rather than for myself.

for example, i’m currently 23. my household was pretty strict, so i couldn’t really do anything before age 18. which gives me a grand total of 5 years of me trying to figure out life by myself. it helps me to remember how young i actually am in the grand scheme of things, and that i have plenty of time to still figure things out.

9. find a safe outlet for dark urges

for me, art and journaling really helped. music too, especially when i felt like i could relate to either the lyrics, or just the tone/mood/feel of the song. it might be exercise, or you may like to do creative writing or make oc’s. sometimes you may just need a friend or someone to listen.

if you don’t have anyone to talk to, you can message me or shoot me an anon

10. sleep it off

sleep is not going to cure anything, but if i’m pushed over the edge and am struggling with dark thoughts, going to sleep almost always helps. most of the time i still feel like shit in the morning, but no longer in the mood to try anything hasty.

lastly: suicide is not the easy way out

note: i’m gonna be discussing my own experiences with suicide in this part, so if you don’t want to see that, then don’t read past this point

suicide is not the easy way out. it’s messy and it’s ugly and it’s painful and it’s gonna bring out the worst in people. i’ve been struggling with it since age 19.

one particular attempt landed me in the hospital after i swallowed a bunch of painkillers. i couldn’t think or speak properly, i was slurring my words and tripping over myself. my doctor brushed me off and said that it “would probably get better” with time, but it never did. it improved, but my mind has never been the same as it once was, and one of my biggest insecurities to this day is when i struggle to learn new things or get things mixed up that i shouldn’t. i struggle to learn the simplest of things, and my reaction times tend to be very slow.

the point is, sometimes you don’t die, sometimes you just end up hurting yourself in a way that won’t get better. nobody needs that. if had’ve known how to calm myself down back then, i might not’ve tried.

i don’t mind talking about it now, since i’ve dedicated so much time in learning how to uplift myself. i may be in the “better place” now, but you don’t need to rush yourself to be better immediately. sometimes you need to be patient, use baby steps, or learn to accomodate yourself where you are. these things take time. that’s okay.

and remember, you are loved and very much needed to be here on the planet with us.

[albapuella]

Thinking and Feeling Altogether Too Much

AO3 Link

Fandom: Hiveswap, Homestuck Characters: Xefros Tritoh, Joey Claire Tags: Act 2 spoilers, introspection, some pale stuff if you squint Summary: Xefros has a lot to think about. Set near the end of Act 2. Spoilers. Note: I didn’t have the first paragraph posted here, so apologies for that!

Xefros doesn’t know how long he and Joey have been sitting against the outside wall of the Engine car. The metal is cold beneath them, the air rushing by is cool, and he’s realizing hours too late that he probably should have grabbed a sweatshirt for himself, too. It’s difficult to feel too cold, though, with Joey sitting beside him. In a literal way, she’s much warmer than he is, radiating heat. He noticed before, when they were riding Dammek’s Lusus, but he had other things to be worried about then. Though he has other things to think about now as well, he takes some comfort beyond the physical having her there by his side. The warmth reminds him she’s still here, still alive. This alien from a world that shares similarities with his, but not many. This alien who has become very important to him in very little time. And, as incredible as it still seems, he’s apparently very important to her, too. She seems so convinced of his value, fought so hard to keep him alive, and cared so much when he was hurt, that it’s hard not to believe her a little even when she says things Xefros knows are wrong.

He’s not cool. He’s not smart. He’s not brave. He’s not special. He’s not anything.

He is a killer, though. He’s killed someone tonight, and he still doesn’t know how he feels. It shouldn’t be that big a deal. He murdered a troll--so what? Trolls are killed all the time in all sorts of gruesome ways: by drones, by the various and highly dangerous plants and animals of Alternia, by the sun and rain, by zombies, by other trolls for all sorts of reasons ranging from self-defense to needing paint. Death is a fact of life. Murder is a fact of life. It’s not a big deal.

In fact, it’s kind of funny to be as old as he is, and this is the first time he’s killed someone. Kind of funny. The kind of funny that makes him feel like he could vomit if he’d actually eaten anything in the last how ever many hours it’s been at this point. But maybe this is normal to feel. After all, the first one is the hardest. That’s what Dammek said. This is his first one, so he’s having a hard time. That’s all.

Xefros remembers the look on Joey’s grub-like face. The terror and shock making way for horror and fear. While she was grateful in the end that he saved her life, he’s never going to be able to forget that, for just a moment, she was afraid of him because… because he killed another troll.

But he also feels… good about himself for protecting Joey? Defending someone weaker than himself is its own reward; he thinks he’s right about that much. He knows, if he had it over to do again, he would do the same thing. Joey’s life is worth more to him than the turmoil he feels right now. He wasn’t thinking about Fiamet’s claim that Alternia and Earth would be destroyed if Joey didn’t go back to Earth; he wasn’t thinking at all beyond the need to do whatever he needed to to save her.

And he did, and he can’t feel too badly about that… even if he still kind of does feel bad? That doesn’t even make sense, and he knows if he tried explaining any of it to another troll, they wouldn’t get it either. He feels stupid, but that’s at least something normal. Even though he knows Joey wouldn’t want him to think about himself like that, he clings to the thought. He’s stupid. He doesn’t understand any of this, and he doesn’t want to.

He wants to go home. He wants his Lusus. He wants to see Dammek, because he doesn’t know what to think about him anymore! Yeah, Joey decided before she ever left Dammek’s hive that she didn’t like him, but Xefros can’t even argue with what she says now. Not after what he’s heard and what he’s seen and what he can’t just talk himself out of noticing.  

’Tetrarch D doesn’t do quadrants.’

Well, maybe Xefros isn’t going to do quadrants either!

Except he still cares about Dammek. He’s cared too long to just… stop. So much of himself is wrapped up in Dammek and his schemes. If none of that was… if Dammek never really cared… then what was it all for? He doesn’t want to believe that Dammek was just using him, that Dammek saw him as… what? a cleaning drone he could get paps from? But what is he supposed to think? His best friend who did bad things behind his back and called him derogatory names and hung the threat of blackmail over his head and forced him to do rituals that hurt him…

Xefros doesn’t want to think about Dammek anymore.

A warm pressure against his side startles him from his thoughts. It’s Joey, leaning against him. Xefros smiles down at her even as her fake horn jabs him in the shoulder. Her dark eyes are closed, and he feels warm in the less literal sense, too. He doesn’t know much about humans, since Joey is the only one he’s ever met, but he wonders if all of them are as trusting as Joey is. Although it will be safer for her if this whole adventure has made her realize that she actually can’t trust every troll she sees, he thinks he’ll miss seeing her offer her kindness so freely.

It was… Xefros doesn’t have the words to describe it. Joey, going around, treating trolls like… like they were the same as her. Like they would just return her kindness and trust because she gave it to them first. Kind of incredible how often she was right. And then she was wrong. Very wrong.

He did warn her about clowns. Warned her that clowns only help until it becomes more funny to hurt you instead. Warned her that clowns liked to hurt and murder people, especially lowbloods like him. She said she’d keep her guard up, but he really should have known she wouldn’t. Joey is just too trusting and nice. Maybe clowns are different on Earth. A lot of things are different on Earth even when they’re similar: taxidemeritation, mushrooms, nuns. So, why not clowns, too? Maybe on Earth clowns are really nice or something. Maybe everyone on Earth is nice.

Though, maybe not. Joey sounds so angry when she talks about her home sometimes. Especially about her… FatherDad? Xefros hasn’t asked because he didn’t want to upset her where she would draw too much attention to herself, but there’s definitely something about that person which makes her upset. He’s not smart like Joey is, but he thinks it’d be nice if he could help her the way she’s been trying to help him. Even if it hurts his bloodpusher and his head to think about.

It’s been a long night, and he’s tired of thinking. He’s just going to sit here until Joey is ready to go back through the clown car and try not to worry about what’s going to happen when they do. Maybe the clowns will still be in a good enough mood to just let them pass? Xefros doubts he and Joey will be that lucky, but… but maybe they will be? Marvus did force that other clown with the axe to let him go in time to save Joey… and he’d accepted Joey’s really flimsy proof of her ‘kills’...

No, he’s not thinking about this. He’s not thinking about anything. Instead, he focuses on the warm and weight against his side and turns his head to stare up at the twin moons hanging high in the sky. He’s never been this far away from his hive. Like Joey, he’s a long away from home. Unlike Joey, at least he knows how the world works. Or he thought he did. If this trip has made him realize anything, it’s made him realize just how much he didn’t know. And not in a because he’s stupid way, though he still feels that, too. Things both were and weren’t like he expected out here, and it makes him feel small. Smaller than he’s used to feeling.

“Xefros?”

Xefros blinks. “Hey, Joey.”

She sits up but doesn’t move away. “Do you think… do you really think they’ll let us back through without… doing anything to us?”

He hates how uncertain she looks. He hasn’t known her long, but Joey is supposed to look confident and self-assured or embarrassed and confused. Occasionally angry and frustrated. Not uncertain and afraid. “Yeah,” he says as confidently as he can manage, which is not very. Highbloods are unpredictable except for the fact that they like to hurt and murder people. That much is very predictable.

“They… they already had their fun with us. I don’t think we should stop and talk to everyone,” he continues quickly, because he knows how much Joey likes to do that with every troll she meets (except for that bronze blood with the huge rack--it’s fairly confusing because, while delusional, he hadn’t seemed like a bad guy to Xefros), “but if we just go right through, we should be fine.”

Joey’s mouth forms an impressive snarl despite her lack of fangs. “Believe me, I have nothing to say to any of them.” She pushes herself up and holds out her hand to Xefros. “Let’s go then. I’m freezing.”

Xefros doesn’t think he’s held hands with anyone as often (or as long) as he has with Joey at this point. He doesn’t hate it. She says she’s freezing, but her hand is warm in his as he uses it more than he thought he would need to as he gets to his feet. His body is complaining about its various hurts now that he’s moving again, and he turns his face away so he can wince without worrying her.

It doesn’t work. “Are you okay, Xefros? I mean, of course you’re not okay, but like, do you need help?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Joey smiles slightly. “That’s what you told me when you were being crushed under rocks and when you were being juggled by a murderous clown.” Her words are teasing but kind and concerned. “You’ll tell me if you’re really hurt? I don’t want you to just say you’re fine if you’re not.”

Although it was a question, Xefros hears the command in it. “I’ll tell you,” he promises even as he wonders what ‘really hurt’ means to Joey. He almost asks but decides not to--he’s not sure now is the time to have that conversation. It’s kind of funny when Joey acts shocked to learn how things are on Alternia, but it also hurts a little to see her look so disappointed afterward?

She’s not disappointed in him personally, and he knows that, but it’s hard not to feel like she is sometimes. Like he should have tried to come from a better planet. It’s dumb and makes him feel dumb, and maybe it’s selfish, but he’d really just rather not right now!

Another soft smile distracts him from his spiral. “Okay.” Then she straightens her shoulders, and her eyes narrow. She looks determined and brave, even if her hold on his hand tightens like she’s drawing strength from him. Which is ridiculous--she’s the brave one here, not him no matter what she says. “Let’s go.”

Xefros follows her into the clown car, still holding her hand in his, feeling like he could follow Joey anywhere, ready to throw down his life if that’s what he has to do to protect her. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like that before tonight, and he holds onto the feeling as Joey leads them through the dark, stuffy car. He wants to cover his ears against the loud music, but that would mean letting go of Joey, and he isn’t going to do that.

The clowns are busy, as far as Xefros can tell from quick glances through squinting eyes, worshiping at their strange altar. The screams of the young clown whose… matesprit? moirail? Xefros killed have made way for sobs, and that’s almost worse. He can barely breathe, but he’s not sure if it’s from building panic or from whatever drugs the clowns have been doing besides soda.

When they reach the dubious safety of the elevator and are lifted out of the worst of the cloying air, Xefros lets go of Joey’s hand, feeling suddenly awkward without the threat of imminent death. Joey said they’re friends, and she still doesn’t get quadrants, but they’ve been a lot closer than normal friends, so this is all really confusing. Maybe friends are something that are different on Earth, too. Joey doesn’t seem to mind, giving him another small smile.

When they’re back out into the open, Xefros breathes a little easier. Joey looks out the rope railing, and he wonders what she thinks when she looks up at the twin moons. Is she homesick? Does she think they’re pretty? It’d be nice if at least one thing on Alternia wasn’t a horrific disappointment to her.

Then she turns back to him, her smile is sad but genuine, and despite her various physical deformities--or what would be deformities if she were a troll; he doesn’t know if she has human deformities, too, because it never seemed like the time to ask--, he wouldn’t change a thing about her.

It’s Joey Claire: the best human friend a troll could ask for.

[im-fairly-whitty]

Ablaze: A Frozen Alternate History AU

Fifteen years ago Elsa disappeared up the mountain when she lost control of her ice powers at her coronation and was never seen again, leaving Queen Anna and her husband the Prince Regent Hans to rule Arendelle as it descended into a cursed eternal winter. A year later Arendelle’s new prince was born, a boy cursed with the power of fire instead of ice. Now fourteen-year-old Prince Taavi has begun to hear a voice singing to him far in the distance that no one else can hear, beckoning him toward the secrets of his family’s past and the secrets of his own magic. 

[Chapter 1 - Water]

Chapter 2 - Ice  

As much as Taavi complained about being trapped in the castle he was no stranger to the outside world. Even when he’d had trouble controlling his fire, his parents had always insisted it was more important for him to go out and learn to secretly control it than to live behind a locked door.

This had led to more close calls than Taavi could remember, but it meant he’d traveled across Arendelle his whole childhood to see the towns and meet the people he would one day be responsible for, even visiting his many uncles down in the Southern Isles once or twice. Taavi had seen snowy countryside and secluded woods, icy villages and bustling cities.

But none of his past journeys could have prepared him for this, to be clinging to to back of a nøkk in the dead of night, desperately struggling not to slip as it carried him at a breathless speed along the only running river in Arendelle, straight up the forbidden mountain that had always loomed high over his own home.

He’d been in forests before, but somehow the dark frost-blasted pines and skeletal dead birches that reached their branches across the river above felt as if they were watching him. Taavi couldn’t know exactly why, but something deep inside could tell something was wrong with this forest, and it wasn’t just the tales he’d grown up hearing of all the dark magic that roamed these woods looking for victims foolish enough to cross into the shadows.  

“Vand, hold on,” Taavi called, his fingers aching from his death grip on the water horse’s mane.  “I’m going to fall off, slow down.”

Vand slowed, pranced to a stop. His hooves glancing off the liquid surface of the river as he looked back at Taavi quizzically.

“Sorry, I just need a break, I’m not used to going this fast.” Taavi said, swinging his leg over Vand’s back to dismount. “Just let me walk a minute.”

He didn’t remember until an instant too late that Vand was standing on the surface of a snowmelt river. The cold of the water felt like a physical blow as Taavi fell under the surface, submerged in a blindingly frigid instant. His entire body locked up, the heat inside him snuffing out in shock.

Something clamped around his wrist and Taavi felt himself yanked up. He gasped as his head burst to the surface, the cold of the air made worse by the cold of the water. He looked up to see Vand had caught hold of his wrist, the water horse dragging him to the snowy riverbank in a few watery strides.

Had Taavi ever been this cold in his life? He numbly searched for the flame inside him, finding only a small ember. It had never felt this small. Is this how normal people felt?

Taavi coughed as he struggled to move, his muscles stiff and useless feeling after only seconds under the water.

“Call your fire.” Vand commanded, now crouching beside him in human form. “You’re going to freeze if you don’t.”

“Y-y-you said y-you’d stay in sh-shallow w-water.” Taavi said through chattering teeth, trying to focus hard enough to summon any warmth he could, chasing the barest flicker of heat in his chest as he shivered violently. 

“Well next time don’t throw yourself off when we’re still in the middle of the river. Humans drown so easily, you should know better.” Vand said, sounding altogether too casual considering the situation. 

Vand looked up and around them, then pointed through the trees. “It’s just as well we stopped though. This as far as I can take you by river, it gets too steep further up and I won’t be able to carry you. Beyond those trees you’ll see a path. Walk it and it will lead you to the palace of ice, when you reach the front gate go left until you see a pool of water and I’ll see you there.”

“A-a what?” Taavi chattered, rubbing his arms. He was sure if he took off his wet gloves his skin would be turning blue, but Vand didn’t seem to be very concerned.

“A pool of water.”

“No, th-the ice palace.”

“Yes, you’ll know it when you see it I imagine.” Vand said. “Whatever you do don’t knock on the door, I have to be the one to bring you in the back way. And be sure not to-”

“Hey! You get away from him!”

Taavi jumped as a booming voice cut through the night air. Vand disappeared in front of him, vanishing back into the water in an instant. Taavi turned toward the rough sound of snow crunching underfoot and saw a dark hulking figure looming toward him. Some half delusional, too-cold-to-think-straight part of him nearly threw himself into the river after Vand to escape the approaching figure.

“Are you friend or fae?” The figure demanded, hoisting the greenish yellow light of a lantern between them. They were cloaked in layers of thick woolen clothing and frost, two eyes peering at him suspiciously from between a scarf and a hat.

“S-s-sorry?” Taavi asked, trying to stand and failing miserably, his legs seizing up weakly and tumbling him into the snow.

“Oh great, you are human aren’t you?” The figure said, yanking down his frosted over scarf to reveal the face of a very concerned looking man.

He yanked off one of his thick leather mittens and looked over his shoulder, giving a sharp whistle with two fingers. A moment later a saddled reindeer came bounding into view through the snow, pulling up beside the man who started unbuckling pack straps.

“Yes he’s human, Sven.” The man said, presumably to the reindeer, as he rifled through a pack. “And he’s about to freeze to death, looks like the nøkk dragged him up here.”

The man shook out a thick blanket and wrapped it around Taavi, hefting him into his arms and quickly carrying him away from the dark rushing water of the river.

“W-wait, I have to talk to him.” Taavi said, trying to turn to look back. It almost felt like the blanket was charmed, its amazing warmth wrapped around him was already eating away the numbness in his bones, chasing away his violent shivering as he started to feel the edges of the familiar heat inside him starting the wake up again.

“Not a chance.” The man said firmly, trekking across the snow and into the trees. “I don’t know what that water spirit told you to drag you all the way up this mountain, but it wasn’t the truth. You can’t trust anything up here, we’re getting you warm again and then we’re getting you home. What village are you from?”

“Wait, stop. You can put me down, I’m supposed to be here.” Taavi said, struggling against the blanket as they got further away from the path Vand had pointed out to him.

His struggling made the heat inside him flicker, finally high enough that he could grab at it. A delicious heat swept through his body, eating away every bit of cold in him, making him feel alive again, his mind clearing.

The man set him down, eyeing him warily as Taavi pulled the now stifling blanket off from around his shoulders. He flexed his fingers inside his wet silk gloves and carefully pushed the heat up just a bit more, enough the dry his wet clothes, the air steaming around him as the cloth returned to its normal dry warmth. The snow at his feet melted down around him.

“Alright now that I haven’t seen before.” The man said warily, pulling out a necklace of glowing yellow crystals from under his scarf, holding onto them like they could protect him. The reindeer at his side watched Taavi with its ears pinned back in suspicion.

“I’m human, I promise,” Taavi said quickly, tugging his gloves back into place and running a hand through his river-mussed hair. “And thank you very much for your help, I accidentally fell in the river but I’m better now that I’m warm again. Vand was taking me to...see someone, I’m alright, I can keep going now.”

“Well from where I was standing it looked an awful lot like you were being drowned by a nøkk,” The man said flatly. “First question, what magic are you using, second question who was he “taking you to see”? I’m the only person on this mountain. Well, other than the idiots I have to turn back for their own protection.” He looked pointedly at Taavi.

Taavi swallowed. Talking about his abilities with two complete strangers in one night really shouldn’t have been the strangest feeling event of the evening, but it still felt unsettling after a lifetime of carefully hiding and controlling it.

“My name is Prince Taavi of Arendelle, and I was born cursed with the ability to make fire.” Taavi said, standing up straight. “I don’t know why, but the water horse says he can show me. I have to go to a palace of ice to get my answers, do you know where that is?”

“Fire huh?” The man said, rubbing his chin. “Well I’m Kristoff of the trolls, and I carry enough of their magic to know that you being up here at all is bad news. There’s a reason that Sven and I stuck around after everyone else died or left, there’s dark magic on this mountain and it’ll kill anyone who’s dumb enough to try getting near it.”

Kristoff shrugged, “I mean you’ve gotten way closer than most, I’ll give you that, but we’re taking you back home. Now. If you really are the prince then we certainly don’t need you ending up like the last queen. Sven and I have enough to deal with up here without a fire wraith.”

“You know about my aunt?” Taavi asked eagerly.

“That’s really your big takeaway from everything I just said?” Kristoff said flatly.

“Please, that’s why I’m here, no one in the palace ever talks about her,” Taavi said, “Vand said he could take me to see her.”

“Well if he told you that then he’s definitely trying to get you killed.” Kristoff said, shooting a dark look back toward the river. “He’s fae, I can guarantee he’s got his own agenda he hasn’t told you about, his kind don’t give favors for free kid.”

“But he’s my only chance at learning to control my magic!” Taavi pleaded, “Please tell me what you know about my aunt?”

Kristoff growled, dragging a hand down his face and looking at Taavi through his fingers. “Fine. But afterward you’re going straight home.”

“I make no such promise.” Taavi said, folding his arms.

Kristoff muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like spoiled royal.

“All I know is that Queen Elsa was born cursed with ice powers.” Kristoff said with a sigh. “As far as we can tell she finally lost control at her coronation and ran up here where she built her ice fortress and turned into some kind of evil ice wraith. She’s the real reason we haven’t had a summer in fifteen years you know, your family tries to keep it hushed up but it has nothing to do with the trolls like everyone says.”

Born cursed. Just like him. Taavi been right then, his suspicions when he’d found the trunk of blue gloves hadn’t been crazy after all. Aunt Elsa had been like him, but with ice instead of fire. Was she always cold the way he was always hot? Did she hate summers the way he hated winter?

Maybe she really could help him then after all, she might even know why their family had these powers in the first place.

“How do you know?” Taavi asked, looking up at Kristoff eagerly, “Who told you?”

“I only know because your grandparents asked the trolls for help ages ago,” Kristoff said. “Back when Queen Elsa was young and having trouble controlling herself I guess.”

“Wait, as in you know actual trolls?” Taavi asked, looking up. Father’s bedtime stories about trolls had never ended well, all tales of kidnapped children, stolen memories, and deals gone wrong.

“You got something against trolls?” Kristoff asked, folding his arms. “I was raised by them, they’re my family. They all moved away when the winter curse hit, but their magic is how Sven and I survive. How we were able to save you from being drowned by a nøkk I might add.”

Kristoff was a changeling? That meant he had been kidnapped from his real parents as a child. Did he even remember that?

“He wasn’t trying to drown me, I dismounted before he was ready and I can’t swim.” Taavi said primly, folding his own arms back at Kristoff. “And now as Prince of Arendelle, I command you to take me to the ice palace. Fortress. Whatever it is. Please.”

Kristoff looked at him with a distinctly unimpressed expression. “Sorry your highness but you’re going straight back home.” He said flatly.

“Fine, I’ll go myself then.” Taavi decided, turning around and starting to pick his way back toward the river. It was slow going, his warm boots sinking down in snow that came all the way to his hips with every step.

“No you’re not.” Kristoff said, walking over on his snowshoes and hefting Taavi up out of the snow by his collar. “My job is to keep people away from that fortress and that’s what I’m going to do. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s treason or something if I let a prince go to his death.”

“Let me go!” Taavi said, reaching back clumsily to whack at Kristoff, the heat inside him spiking in frustration.

There was a yelp and Taavi dropped face first into the snow. When he wiped the snow from his eyes and looked back he saw Kristoff shaking his bare hand like he’d been burned.

“Geez you weren’t kidding about that fire magic.” Kristoff said, hissing a little with pain.

“I’m sorry!” Taavi cried, jumping up. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to burn you, sometimes I can’t control it and-”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Kristoff huffed, bending down to stick his hand in the snow. “Believe me, I’ve been burned worse before on my own campfires. But I guess this means I can’t drag you down the mountain if you don’t want to go, huh?”

Taavi bit his lip, folding his arms tightly against the heat inside him as he shook his head. “I have to go, I have to find my answers.”

Kristoff pulled his hand out of the snow, checking it before wiping it dry on his pants and carefully pulling his leather mitten back on. He looked Taavi over.

“Well...” Kristoff said reluctantly. “I really don’t want you to end up an icicle kid, I’ve seen it happen too many times, it’s not pretty. But if I can’t convince you otherwise I guess that’s that.” He pulled his thick woolen cap off, scratching at his blonde hair and then pulling it back on. “Although if you can ramp up that fire magic of yours I guess there might—and that’s a real slim might—be a shred of a one in a million chance of you surviving...”

“Vand says he’s waiting for me left of the front gate.” Taavi said, “I think he knows my aunt, he can make sure nothing happens to me. And I’ll keep myself warm I promise.”

Kristoff stared at him for a long minute, then let out a long growling sigh. He turned to Sven’s saddlebags, fishing something small out of one and handing it to Taavi. A small wooden whistle.

“Sven and I can't risk getting much closer to the fortress, even with our troll magic.” Kristoff said, handing Taavi the whistle. “But we can take you to the edge of the forest where you’ll be able to see it. When you come to your senses blow the whistle and we’ll do our best to come grab you, if we can get to you while you’re still alive, without us dying, we’ll take you straight home.”

Taavi bi the inside of his cheek as he took the little whistle. “Thanks.” He said, pocketing it.

“Alright then, let’s take you to your death.” Kristoff said humorlessly as he strapped Sven’s saddlebags closed. “This way kid, keep that heat of yours going, you’re going to need it.”

Kristoff and Sven started off across the snow and Taavi hurried to keep up, carefully increasing his internal heat and holding it steady. It was hotter than he’d ever purposefully held it, but the farther they trudged through the dark trees the more he needed it, the temperature seeming to drop a little more with each step. 

His legs were getting tired of pushing through the melting snow, carving a deep path behind him, but the heat inside him only seemed to eagerly grow, happily responding to his call as if pouring from a limitless reservoir he was finally tapping into for the first time.

By the time Kristoff finally pulled them to a stop at the edge of the trees Taavi was grinning in excitement at how much heat he was putting out. He could actually smell the heated scent of his clothing, a near singed smell, but the cold of air meant he was still only melting the snow directly around him. How cold was it up here?

“Alright, there it is.” Kristoff said grimly, gesturing out beyond the trees.

Taavi pushed ahead a little more to see, his heat spiking a bit when he finally saw it.

Vand has said it was an ice palace, Kristoff had described it as an ice fortress. Taavi would have said it was an ice lair. The massive building was easily several times bigger than the Arendelle castle, settled up against the maintain peak as if it had grown there. 

There were sleek purple blue lines and delicate spires of ice to it, as if it had once been a thing of beauty, but it looked as if years had changed and warped its original design. Darker, sharper ice had expanded the fortress, breaking its symmetry. A sea of spikes defensively overgrew the grounds around it like a forest of thorns.

Taavi stared at it mouth open. One person had made all that? Despite its foreboding aura he couldn’t help wondering if he had that kind of power in him too if Aunt Elsa had been able to create something like that all on her own.

He felt the flame inside him leap at the thought. Let’s try. It seemed to say. Let me out, let’s see what we can do.

“So, ready to go home?” Kristoff said, jolting Taavi out of his reverie.

“Not yet.” Taavi said, trying and failing to keep his smile off his face. He knew this was hardly the time for it, but he couldn’t help the primal kind of excitement building in him. It felt like the flame he was always trying to hold back was waking up for the first time. “I’m going in to meet Vand.” Taavi said, holding up the whistle. He didn’t quite notice the way his fingerprints darkened the wood slightly where he touched it. “I’ll call you if I need to.”

Kristoff and Sven exchanged a look that Taavi couldn’t quite read, but he guessed the two of them certainly weren’t reassured by his smile.

“It was nice knowing you kid.” Kristoff said, taking a large step back. “If you become the next curse on this mountain just remember we helped you out and don’t burn us alive, alright?”

Taavi got the feeling that Kristoff wasn’t joking at all.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Taavi said. He gave a little bow, “And thank you again for your help, I really do appreciate it, my parents can reward you when we get back to the castle.”

Kristoff gave him a good natured thumbs up as Taavi started forging ahead, but he could tell the man didn’t believe for a second that he was ever going to see any reward at all.

Taavi bit his lip, focusing on the path ahead. Well, he was just going to have to show Kristoff then. He was going to get in, get his answers, and get out safely. The reindeer man didn’t know what he was talking about.

Taavi stepped forward out of the darkness of the trees, his footsteps melting through the snow as he walked, then the snow gave way to thick crusts of ice that resisted his heat. The ice started to get prickly underfoot, making his path an unsteady one, and soon he was carefully ducking through and around huge tangled spikes of dark ice that choked the path entirely.

It took some doing, but Taavi finally reached a slim stairway that spanned a dizzyingly steep abyss between him and the fortress. Or at least it looked like it used to be a slim stairway, the first half was smashed off as if something huge had crashed through it long ago. A jagged mess of ice and snowdrifts had eaten down what little proper stairway there was left, spanning the chasm in a much wider but more dangerous looking bridge.

Taavi wanted badly to look down over the edge of the makeshift bridge, but knew for a fact that if he did that his chances of being permanently rooted to the spot in fear were about a hundred percent.

He swallowed hard as he eyed the precarious pathway, following it up to where he could see the ice fortress looming above him, a front entrance watching him from above.

He absently fiddled with the wooden whistle in his pocket as he bit the inside of his cheek. The excitement he’d felt a minute ago was waning fast, and he could feel the heat inside him turning to one fueled by fear now instead of determination, flaring a bit with each beat of his heart.

But Vand wouldn’t have told him to go to the front door if it hadn’t been safe right? He’d said there would be answers for Taavi in the castle, things that could help him finally control his fire curse. He just had to control it until he got to the other side of the bridge. Melting the bridge while he was on it would only have one very deadly ending.

Taavi took a deep breath, then another and another, chasing the scared heat inside him as far down as he could manage. Control, don’t be controlled. He could do this, he could keep control for the minutes it would take to get across.

He looked to his right and found a long thin ice spike, he grabbed it and yanked, cracking it off at the base. Still breathing deeply he used the ice spike to hit the foot of the bridge. It clattered against the solid ice underneath a layer of snow.

Okay. Okay okay okay.

Taavi focused on the cold of the ice in his hands, wishing he could fold his arms to chase back his heat as he took a step into the bridge, keeping to the very middle of it, as far away from the railingless edges as possible.

Take a deep breath to tamp down his heat, tap for solid ground with the ice spike, take a step forward. Deep breath, tap, step. Breath, tap, step.

Taavi inched forward up the steep bridge, humming nervously to himself as he made sure to plant each foot securely before putting his weight on it. Slipping was not an option.

Breath, tap, step. Breath, tap, step.

After a minute of slow going he chanced a glance up and back. He was about halfway to the proper stairs now, he’d have something to hold onto then. If he could just-

A gust of icy mountain wind came whipping around the peak, hitting Taavi from the side just as he took another step. His foot slipped and he slid against a patch of ice, dropping him to his knees. His hum turned to a panicked whine as his fingers dug into the snow, his panic only spiking further as his heat flared and his gloved fingers started melting into the ice beneath the snow.

The ice that was the only thing between him and the gaping abyss below him.

No no no.

Taavi stumbled to his feet, then slipped again, his adrenaline now surging along with and because of the flaring heat flowing off him. He couldn’t breathe as the ice and snow around and under him became even more slick with ice melt.

He had to get across now.

Taavi lunged forward and up the bridge, staying low as he scrambled up the failing bridge, his own powers flaring stronger in fear with every step. He reached the proper bridge part and grabbed at the railing, only for his hand to melt right through it, throwing him even more badly off balance, making him even hotter as all control he’d thought he’d had evaporated as quickly as the snow underfoot.

He could smell singed cloth as he madly propelled himself up the last of the steps, his foot actually catching on the last one as it melted straight through the thin ice, slamming him forward onto his face.

But onto the cliff, not the stairs. As the snow and ice melted around him Taavi nearly cried in relief to see sturdy and unmeltable rock revealed underneath him.

He yanked his foot up onto solid ground after him and looked back at the bridge, panting in heady relief. The bridge stared back at him silently, as foreboding as ever. The patches he’d melted had already refrozen in the frigid mountain air, into dripping icicles off the side or through the small foot and hand shaped divots that had melted through the thinner parts.

A normal person could probably still cross it easily, but in that moment Taavi had to pretend very hard to himself that he wasn’t going to have to cross it again to get back home.

Once his breath started to feel less painful he wrestled back what heat he could back under control. Taavi shakily got to his feet, folding his arms tightly and looking up at the fortress walls soaring high above him. The entire building emanated an eerie pink glow from deep within its dark ice, as if lit by some malevolent force within.

Taavi looked back over the chasm, suddenly wishing very much that Kristoff had come with him. Or that maybe Kristoff had been more convincing when he’d told him to go home...

But no. Taavi had made it this far, he couldn’t turn back now.

Vand had said to look to the left, that there would be a pool of water. Taavi took a deep breath, sticking as close to the ragged walls of the ice palace as he could as he picked his way through the snow and ice, heading away from the front doors. Now he was grateful again that his steps melted through the snow, giving him more solid footholds that wouldn't send him slipping over the cliff edge to his left that he was not going to look at.

His pace quickened as he heard the gurgling trickle of running water, and he felt relief wash through him as he turned a final corner to see a familiar willowy figure come into view.

“Vand!” Taavi called out, hurrying to him.

“There you are prince,” Vand said with a smile, waving him over. The water spirit was standing in a canal of water that was somehow liquid despite the canal itself being made entirely of polished ice. “I was starting to wonder if you’d fallen off a cliff after all.” Vand said cheerfully, “Here, follow me and keep quiet.” He waved Taavi over, taking his hand and helping him into the canal with him, “Keep that heat up this time, I imagine this water isn’t much warmer than the river.”

It might have been the way the freezing water came up to Taavi’s chest, or the fact that he’d just been talking to a real human with Kristoff just now, but for the first time Vand’s distinctly inhuman lack of real concern registered with Taavi. Was he even going to ask about Kristoff?

It wasn’t exactly that the nøkk was unkind, but just that he was...distant... Where Kristoff had been willing to get burned to keep him safe, the water horse only seemed concerned with coaxing him further up the mountain, further into the ice fortress, further towards the admittedly vague reward he’d promised Taavi. Whether or not that happened to involve risking drowning or falling off cliffs.

He’s fae, I can guarantee he’s got his own agenda he hasn’t told you about, his kind don’t give favors for free kid.

“Hang on,” Taavi said, pulling his arm back from Vand as the water spirit started to lead him through the tunnel in the ice fortresses’ wall. “What exactly are we going to find in there?”

“You’ll see.” Vand said, not even looking back as he continued to walk along the surface of the water.

“Vand, stop.” Taavi said, standing as firmly as he could in lightly flowing water, digging his fingers into the ice edge of the canal. “The man I met back there said that Elsa is dangerous now, that she’s killed people. If I’m about to go into her ice fortress I need to know what to expect. You promised me answers, but I can’t get them if I’m dead.”

Vand looked back to Taavi, tilting his head. He walked back over and crouched down beside Taavi. “Well of course she’s dangerous,” he said simply, his pale eyes shining in the moonlight. “Everything truly beautiful in this world is dangerous.”

“That is not what I mean,” Taavi said, adjusting his grip on the side as his nervous heat began to melt through his hand hold. “I mean what is she, and is she going to kill me if I go in?”

“She is trapped and she is scared.” Vand said quietly, and for the first time Taavi could see real emotion on his face. Sadness maybe? “I won’t let you come to harm, but we will have to be very careful. We are going to sneak in quietly and then I will go to prepare her to meet you. She hasn’t seen anyone but me in a very long time, but I think you are the only person in the world who will be able to reach her.”

“What do you mean reach her?” Taavi asked, somehow feeling both more and less confident at Vand’s answers. It was becoming clear that Vand did have another reason for bringing him up here, just as Kristoff had said. “Is she a ghost? A monster? Is she dead or not?”

“Monsters are only what humans call things they both fear and cannot control.” Vand said, looking at Taavi hard, “Isn’t that why you keep your powers secret? Because you fear what other humans will call you if they found out? Because you’re afraid they would know the answer to the question you’re afraid of answering yourself?”

“Stop talking in riddles.” Taavi demanded, dodging the question, “Vand, I need to know if I can trust you or not.”

“You can trust me.” Vand said, “Any other human? Perhaps not, but you’re cut from the same cloth as Elsa and I. Your magic sets you apart, but it sets you among us as well. Elsa is more spirit than human now, but it is the human part of her that is caught and tangled, trapping her here. My hope is that you can help her untangle it and then she will be able to assist you back. The complexities of human emotion are...not within my realm of expertise, which is why I need your help.”

Well at least half a cryptic answer was better than no answer.

“You know if you’d been this vague and mystical sounding back at the castle I wouldn’t have come with you.” Taavi huffed.

Vand laughed, a musical flowing sound that somehow made him feel a little less annoyed.

“Yes you would have.” Vand said with a grin, “You’re too much like your mother and father to stay away from what you want. And besides, your magic pulls you toward the truth. Which is perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.” Vand took Taavi’s hand and stood, pulling him up to stand on the surface of the water with him, the water feeling solid under his feet. “Now, stay close to me and keep quiet, keep your heat as high as you can and on the ready.” He paused, looking at Taavi. “Does that sound alright?”

It didn’t, it still sounded like something Taavi wanted to ask a million more questions about to get specific details. But Vand was right about one thing, Taavi was in the realm of magic now. Taavi had known at least that much when he’d agreed to come, and anyone who had ever heard a fairy tale in their lives knew that when it came to magic you were never going to be shown all the answers at once.

Taavi wasn’t going to be able to have complete control of the situation and he was going to have to accept that at least a little for now.

“Let’s go.” Taavi said, nodding. “Just...warn me if I’m about to do something stupid again, like at the river.”

Vand chuckled, then started down the tunnel, Taavi in tow, “I’ll do my best.”

Taavi tried to return the smile but only managed to bite his lip hard enough to make it bleed as he followed Vand deeper into the fortress.

———–

Next chapter soon, be sure to follow to get it as soon as it posts. As always, my ask box is open to worldbuilding/story questions, comments, and general exclamations. :)

[fuuwas]

Part 1 ( Jumin / Jaehee / Zen / Yoosung )

@love-dreams-unless-delusional asked: ❝ Rfa and V headcanon reaction to an older lady giving their female s/o shit. S/o did not even do anything. S/o is calm because she expects over 50s to act this way to younger generations. She admits though that if she was physically touched at all she would of beat the person up. ❞

♡ Poor Jihyun would be so confused. Why is this woman yelling at you all of a sudden? Is she unwell? His lips would part in surprise as he stares at the mess before him, stunned into silence for a few seconds. His protective instincts will kick in immediately after, and like Zen, he'll swiftly place himself between you and the ajumma, the polite smile on his face not reaching his eyes. Jihyun is a very nice man; he rarely raises his voice and he doesn’t like to argue. If the woman had been yelling at him, V would have politely tried to calm her down. He’s a naturally likable person, and the rude stranger would have melted under the light of his smile.

But when someone is bugging you, it's a whole different story. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t bother my girlfriend.” His voice would be calm but stern, like a teacher scolding a bratty child. I headcanon that when Jihyun gets mad, he has the same big dick energy as Jumin, only he’s ten time scarier because he still manages to look polite while he’s ripping you to shreds.

“She didn't do anything wrong. Or would you prefer I called the authorities? I’m sure this would qualify as harassment after all...” The charming smile would stay on his face the whole time and it would be a truly terrifying sight. The woman would blush and stammer out a hurried apology before clearing off, mortified at being told off by such a handsome gentleman.

“Sorry about that...” He'd turn towards you with an apologetic expression on his face (even though it wasn't his fault at all), “Are you alright, my love?” Jihyun would wrap his arms around you in a comforting embrace, gently patting your head and running his fingers down the length of your hair. He'll probably end up being the one who's more emotionally drained by the encounter, because the thought of anyone being mean to you breaks his heart. If you told him you were ready to beat the crap out of that lady, he would give you an eye-smile and a nervous chuckle, amazed at how...feisty you can be.

“I know you can defend yourself...” He'd place his forehead on yours, eyes glossing over with affection and voice turning unbearably soft, “...but I’d like you to lean on me from time to time. I promise I won't let anything happen to you.”

♡ Being rude to you when Saeyoung is around is not a good idea; that old prune has signed her sanity away the second she decided to open her mouth to insult you. It takes a lot to really piss Seven off, so he wouldn’t be screaming or getting ready to throw hands much like Zen was about to do, but this ugly person who think she can just say things to you is not going to leave this encounter unscathed. You’d be able to see the gears start turning in his head as his bewildered expression turns into a shit-eating grin, the same one he wears when he’s about to make Yoosung’s day worse.

He’ll find a way to mock her and confuse her without missing a bit, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a friendly gesture as he subtly moves her away from you and reminds her that Halloween is over and she should be taking off her witch mask, going off a million different tangents as he articulates lie after lie with the sole intent of annoying this woman like she’s never been annoyed before. “Don’t you know our heavenly Father has said not to bother young ladies on the street? It is a sin punishable by sticking six hundred and sixty-six loaves of bread up your nostrils. What? You didn’t know? Aren’t you a God-fearing woman?”

Luciel would troll her into begging him to leave her alone while you laugh and hold your stomach in the background. Having scared her away. he would cheerfully trot back to you, glomping you and squishing you against him as you giggle.

“You really have a knack for attracting weird people, honey.” Saeyoung will tenderly nuzzle his cheek against yours, your touch calming down his concealed irritation at what that awful old lady said to you, “...Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you with her ramblings, did she?” He’d give you a soft, concerned look as his silly facade fades away.

He’ll let out a huge sigh of relief once you tell him that, yes, you’re just fine, still squeezing you in a warm bear hug as he tries to comfort you anyway. If you tell him you were ready to fight that stupid woman, Saeyoung would laugh and shake his head, “Yeah, yeah, I know. You were making that super hot face you make when you’re about to fight someone right before I stepped in! (lol)”

♡ Saeran is already not fond of adults. That coupled with the fact that this adult is being an asshole to you is enough to make him wish for her immediate evaporation. You know how scary your boyfriend can be and this foolish lady is about to learn it, too. You can feel it in the way his hand possessively tightens around yours, his eyes sliding into venomous slits as he glares at her. He’d turn into a complete ice prince, the chilling expression on his usually calm face enough to freeze the ajumma in place.

“Are we going to have a problem?” His tone of voice would be curt, disrespectful and resonating with the hint of a warning. It would catch you off guard, because even though you know Saeran is very protective of you, he’s never talked to you this way before, not even when you were trapped in Mint Eye and he was tormenting you. This is the kind of voice he once reserved for V and his brother - a terrible, egotistic, heartless sound that makes it easy to imagine him with a choker around his neck and very pronounced shadows under his eyes.

Saeran would stare straight into the woman’s ugly soul as he enunciates, “Leave. Don’t ever come close to my girlfriend again.” And that would be enough to make her turn tail and run. His icy stare would stay on the ajumma until he can’t see her anymore, the image of her face burned into his mind, then he’d turn to you, his expression softening with adoration as he squeezes your hand.

“I’m fine, Saeran,” You’d answer the question in his eyes with a pretty smile on your face, “And that was really cool.”

“Oh?~ Was it?” Saeran would chuckle softly, delighted at being praised as he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses it, “I’m cool, aren’t I? A cool boyfriend that will always protect you. I think I deserve a reward for my hard work.” He’d lean towards you with a smug look on his face, only to falter as you kiss his lips instead of his cheek like he was expecting, blinking dazedly when you pull away. 

If you told him you were about to clock that old lady in the face, he would scoff and tease you, his eyes glinting with amusement, “Right? I shouldn’t have said anything then.” Honestly, he’s an enabler he would have loved to see that. 

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor (Chapters 5 + 6)

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] 

Chapters 5 and 6 are relatively short so I decided to drop them both together. As always, if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! 

Friday night happy hour at Ngosi played as a second therapist. As the drinks were poured and the alternative R&B playlist played softly in the background, people poured their hearts out about terrible workweeks and terrible dates. The bar was crowded as usual as Ciara walked in. Her jumbo braids were in a bun and her hoop earrings were as large as her face.

She grows upset until she notices two empty seats on the left side of the bar.

“Thank you, Ashley!” Ciara says as she plops down her purse.

“You know I got you, girl. The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Ciara nods as Ashley pours her double Woodford Reserve neat. As she starts to sip, Mahalia comes storming in from the patio area. She picks up Ciara’s purse and plops it on the bar.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“I’m sorry, Ciara. I just had to dodge somebody. Ash! The usual!”

Ciara met Mahalia at this very bar years ago after they both got stood up on dates. Mahalia’s humor about it all made Ciara feel better and Ciara’s positivity made Mahalia feel as if her world wasn’t over. So what if he was an NBA player?

“Girl. Let me tell you what happened with neighbor dude…”

“You fucked him.”

“Wait? What?”

“I mean, this story means nothing if that ain’t the ending.”

Mahalia grew tired of always hearing about Ciara’s “fine ass chocolate-ass neighbor”.

“Okay. No. I come home yesterday and there’s flowers at my door. From him.”

Mahalia chokes on her drink. “What now?”

“Yes. Flowers. So I go knock on his door to say thank you and he opens up the door straight up shirtless. That body ain’t fair, Sis. It ain’t. So I’m like “Ciara, shoot your shot” so I ask him over for dinner and he turned me down for some girl.”

“Gym girl?”

“Nah. I haven’t seen her lately. It was some girl I’ve never seen! She knocked on my door by mistake. She looks he’d break her in half.”

“Okay, okay… so…”

“So yeah. He’s over there doing whatever. You know how he has no home training about these things and I’m like “you know, let me bring him a plate…” so I do and homegirl opens the door and she’s looking like she wants to cut me.”

“Welp. Heh.”

“Right! He comes running from the trash room as if he’s about to break up a fight. I can’t.”

Mahalia and Ciara both laugh as their drinks start to kick in. Ashley quickly pours them another round.

“So what are about to do, Ciara? You ain’t gonna do nothing…”

“I know, Ma. I know. I just… I though the flowers were sweet. The last dude to get me flowers was Y’lan, so…”

“Speaking of your boy…”

Trevante and two of his friends walk into the bar. It felt as if the room stopped. Trevante had that affect everywhere he went. Women would almost stop mid-sentence to catch a glimpse of the adonis that was Trevante. His purple sweater cascading his frame, fitting every crevice with perfection. It was the perfect color to play off of his beautiful skin.

As he grabbed a tabletop with his friends, he notices Ciara at the bar.

Ashley steps from around the bar and walks up to Trevante and his friends.

“What up, fellas.”

“What up, Ashley” Trevante’s friend, Yahya, says. “Can we get a bottle of Crown, please?”

“You got it, love. What up, Tre?” Ashley taps Trevante on his right arm, winks at him and walks away. His boys notice instantly.

“Who haven’t you smashed, fam?” Michael says as his pulls out his cellphone.

“Haha. Very funny.”

“But seriously?” says Yahya, “Who haven’t you? Because there’s this girl that I met and I just wanna--”

“Fuck y’all, aight. “ Trevante says between small fits of laughter. “I haven’t smashed Ashley. Yet.”

As Ashley rings up their bottle, Ciara takes a quick look over at Trevante’s table.

“All of his friends are fine, what the hell?”

“I bet they all hoes like him too.”

“Mahalia! That ain’t nice. Probably true by not nice.”

Ashley places three glasses and the bottle of Crown on the table. As Yahya pours their drinks, Trevante grabs Ashley by the hand. She instantly smiles.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, Tre. What’s up?”

“You see the girl with the braids? Her next drink is on me.”

“You got it.”

As Ciara looks at her phone, Ashley places Ciara’s new drink on the counter.

“Girl. You trying to get me drunk.”

“That dude over there in the purple copped it for you. Girl, I’m scared of you.”

Ashley points over to Trevante. As Ciara turns around to look at him, a slight smile comes onto her face. She lift her glass up to him as a thank you and he does the same in return. Mahalia starts to clap.

“Bitch. I need to be like you.”

“Shut. Up.”

Trevante slowly sips on his drink and he tunes out his boys. He awakens from his daydream when his phone vibrates. It’s “track body.” Trevante forgot that he set up a date with her for tonight. Realizing the error of his ways, he leans on his boys, Yahya and Michael, for advice.

“Fam. Shit. I forgot I had a date with that girl.”

“Who?” Michael says as he sips on his drink.

“That track athlete I met at Crossfit. Alissa.”

“Who don’t you get with?”

“Yahya, chill. Shit. What should I tell her.”

“I don’t know… be honest.” Yahya quips as he taps his glass on the table. “Just tell her that you got hung up at work and forgot and reschedule.”

“But that ain’t being honest though.” Michael chimes in.

“You know what, you right though.” Trevante proceeds to open up his text messages.

Hey. I’m so sorry. Caught up at work. Can we reschedule.

Look in front of you.

Alissa stands at the front of Ngosi with visible steam coming out of her ears. As Trevante sits there stunned and stupefied, he watches at Alissa casually gives him the middle finger and walks out of the bar. Yahya and Michael laugh uncontrollably.

Yahya signals to Ashley. They are going to need another bottle.

CHAPTER SIX

Monday couldn’t come fast enough for Trevante. After a weekend of apologizing to Alissa and sexing the guilt away in the bed with the gym manager, he was ready to get back to work. To move on from a week that felt so heartless.

As Trevante walked into his office, he sees a bouquet of flowers and a card from the staff of the marketing agency. Trevante slightly smiles as opens the card and sees a gift card to Chipotle, his every day lunch spot of choice. It felt good to be back.

“Hey, Tre! My man!” Trevante’s boss, Scott, says as he walks into the office. He always had an extra ounce of annoying energy for Trevante.

“How are you, man? My deepest condolences for your loss.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate it. Kinda ready to get back to work.”

“Come to my office. I have a project I’ve been holding since last week for you.”

Trevante  saunters into Scott’s office. As his sits on the couch, he smiles at the pictures of Scott’s family.

“We’ve been linked to a non-profit based in South Jersey called ‘Proverbs’”

“Faith-based?”

“Yes but they are doing some amazing work with children from military families. Providing safe spaces for kids dealing with parents with PTSD, loss of a family member to war, all of that…”

As Trevante listens, his heart slowly starts to break. He thinks about his Dad.

“They want to expand into the Philadelphia area and they are looking to market to places where this service could be needed. I mean, I love the work they are doing. And the public officials in South Jersey love them.”

“Sounds really promising. Why this for me? Elaine is great with faith-based organizations. What she did with the Jewish center was great.”

“I know but I think this would be a nice switch up from gyms and art organizations that you always do. Plus their executive director and staff said that they serve mostly Black communities so I want to make sure that we put someone on the ground with the right perspective.”

Trevante wants to mull it over but he quickly realizes that Scott isn’t giving him any time to do so.

“I’m in, Scott.”

“Fantastic! I will call up their team and let them know that you’ll be swinging over to South Jersey to see them soon!”

As Trevante walks back into his office, he realizes that he doesn’t have any experience dealing with faith-based organizations. As his heart starts to pound with anxiety, he realizes that he might have someone that could help him out.

Logging into Facebook, he looks up Proverbs and is impressed by their work. He wonders what an organization might have meant to him as a kid dealing with his father and if things would have been different. Maybe his father would have received help earlier. Maybe he and his sister would not have to bury both of their parents by age 30.

Ciara sits in her contemporary theology class bored out of her mind. While this type of history excites her, she rather be on the treadmill waiting for Trevante to pull up right beside her. She couldn’t get Friday night out of her mind. When she woke up on Saturday slightly hungover, she put on her Ella Fitzgerald mix and zoned out at the thought of Trevante making her breakfast in the morning as the jazz music cascaded the living room. She’d stand behind him as he cooked her eggs perfectly, holding him tight as if to make time stop. He’d turn around to pick her up and put her on the counter and then they’d forget about the eggs.

She also felt delusional. Trevante bought her flowers and a drink as a thank you for helping him in the time of a crisis. She was the one that was making that moment out to be  more than what it was. Her playful delusions and dreams of being with Trevante clouded her common sense. He was just being nice to her as her neighbor. He didn’t want her like that.

As she trolled around her Facebook, she receives a message.

From Trevante.

She catches her shriek as she screenshots the message alert and sends it to Mahalia without even reading the message. It was if God was trying to tell her that her delusions weren’t wrong.

Hey, Ciara! Sorry I’m messaging you on Facebook. I don’t have your number. I was wondering if you could help me out or point me in the right direction. I’m working on a project for a faith based organization out of South Jersey called “Proverbs.” They are trying to market into the Philly area. Truth be told, I don’t know much about faith based orgs (or faith anything lol). I was hoping that you could help me get an idea of what to do with them. I meet with them on Thursday but I want to come with some ideas.

Even though Ciara’s heart sinks at it not being a request for a date, she relishes at the idea of spending more time with Trevante. And lowkey flattered that he asked her. Maybe he was paying attention to her.

Hey, Trevante! I’m glad to help. Text me 267-555-3467

Trevante smiles at Ciara’s response. He quickly grabs his phone to text Ciara.

Hey, Ciara. It’s Tre.

Hey! Do you want to meet over my place tomorrow for dinner?

That works. How about 7?

Perfect! I’ll text you if anything changes!

Trevante liked that Ciara punctuated her texts with exclamation points. He felt that she was genuinely excited to help him out. And he found it to be really cute too.

As Ciara’s emotions start to calm down from all of the excitement. Mahalia sends confetti emojis with a rapid pace. Then she punctuates her excitement:

YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Taglist: @blackpinup22

[maraudersinparadise]

Squid-Potter

Lily's POV on the pivotal post DADA O.W.L. and James's attempt to apologise and make her laugh

FF.net /\ AO3

It was just so stupid. All of it.

Severus Snape and how he had most definitively gone to the wrong side.

James Potter and that ridiculous hair of his.

The rest of the Gryffindor’s fifth year boys – Peter Pettigrew for laughing, Sirius Black for encouraging Potter, and Remus Lupin for doing nothing to stop the other three.

All of the Hogwarts students who had laughed at Potter’s idiotic antics.

But the most stupid of all, Lily thought, was herself for feeling so rotten about it.

It was not exactly news that Severus leaned towards the Dark Arts. She had desperately watched as her childhood friend listened more and more to the rubbish that the likes of Mulciber and Avery babbled all day, and less and less to her warnings.

He spent more and more time with those Slytherins, plotting against people like her, and then saying to her, ‘it’s just for a laugh, Lily, I’d never do that to you’.

Until he did.

She had been quite happy just a few hours earlier. Enjoying the end of another O.W.L., when summer was nearly there. Mary MacDonald told her to stop fretting a bit about the exam and relax, proceeding to take off her shoes and socks, and cooling her feet on the lake’s water. Lily saw the other girls doing the same, so she shrugged and imitated her friends.

Lily really was content. They were laughing about nonsense, anxious to get home and free from that terrible year. She worried a bit about going home and rowing with Petunia, but the thought of seeing her parents was overwhelming.

And the fact that she would not have to deal with James Potter and his shenanigans was also a silver lining.

She had noticed him and his friends on the edge of the lake; he was showing off with a snitch (how and why had he gotten it anyways? Wasn’t he a chaser?) to Pettigrew while Black acted like he was God’s gift to humanity, and Remus read a book.

She was, however, quick to return her attention to her friends, ignoring the immature group.

And then they made her notice them.

Well, he made her notice them. The second the nickname ‘Snivellus’ loudly came out of his mouth, Lily looked at the commotion and cursed.

“You’re going there, aren’t you?” Mary asked, resigned.

“Of course I am. Honestly, couldn’t the prat leave Sev alone for just a couple of days? Then I’d be free of them,” Lily replied, huffing impatiently as she put her shoes back on. Mary sighed and followed her.

It was not that she hated her fellow Gryffindors. Remus was a perfectly nice bloke. Peter usually kept to himself. Sirius had that arrogant air on him, but was funny to talk to. Potter… well, he was funny – when he was not humiliating other people, that is. Unfortunately, it happened quite a lot, which made Lily furious.

Sev was choking on soap (‘Really, Potter?’) when Lily got near the boys. There was already a group around them, watching excitedly another session of humiliation by James Bloody Potter.

“Leave him ALONE!” Lily exclaimed angrily. Potter and Black turned immediately, the former automatically running a hand through his hair.

“All right, Evans?” Potter asked her. Had she not been so incredibly annoyed at the situation, she might have noticed that something had changed in Potter’s voice when he addressed her.

“Leave him alone,” Lily asked again, glaring fiercely at Potter. Why, oh why, was he such a prat? “What’s he done to you?” She asked instead.

“Well…” Potter said, making a scene of deliberating the subject, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…”

Many of the students surrounding the group laughed, like it was actually funny. It was so not funny. The joke Potter had told four days ago on the Common Room about the troll on a bar, when she came back from round with Remus – that had been funny. This was just plain cruel.

“You think you’re funny, but you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone,” she said again, which was not completely wrong, but was very close to the truth.

“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” Potter said quickly, like he had not even thought about it. “Go on… go out with me and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.”

Shock was the first of the emotions that hit Lily by then. Was that boy even real? She could have sworn he liked him as much he she liked him – which was almost nothing at all. Why all of a sudden was he asking her out? And like this? Was he so caught up on his own little world to think that she would be blackmailed to go out with him? While he humiliated her best friend, no less?

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” Lily spit back. And she meant it. How delusional could that boy be?

“Bad luck, Prongs,” Black replied instead. Potter still looked directly at her glare, and they did not notice Sev regaining his controls until Black screamed, “OI!”

But it was a bit too late – the seconds of distraction facing Lily resulted in Sev managing to hit a spell on Potter, and a bloody gash appeared on his cheek. The next second Sev was upside down, robes hanging over his head and his underpants showing for the whole school to see.

To be honest, the whole situation would be slightly funny (which the rest of the students agreed, seeing as they were all joining the Marauders in their laughter), and even Lily had to hold back her smile – because it would be slightly funny if done to a friend, not with the sole intention of demeaning the other person.

And intentions counted so much to Lily.

“Let him down!” She ordered them, angrier by the minute.

“Certainly,” James complied, and Sev fell to the ground in an awkward fashion. He had barely put his wand up when Black pointed his wand at Sev again, paralysing him.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” She shouted, drawing her own wand and pointing to Potter and Black. She was losing her patience, and the wary glance the boys gave to her wand showed they remembered how she had hexed Potter the previous week for a similar stunt.

“Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you,” Potter pleaded. She knew he was good too; he had a lot of practice, and would probably be capable of getting one hex past her. But she knew he also had been raised by older parents, who taught them not to hex girls.

“Take the curse off him, then,” she replied. Potter sighed deeply (he had to be so dramatic at everything he did?) and freed Sev.

“There you go,” Potter said, watching Sev fumbling to get up, “you’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus-”

The rest of the threat was clear – Lily knew Potter and Black could be downright cruel. It made her crazy. It made the professors crazy. It made anyone on the end of their wands crazy. As Sev was constantly on that position, his hatred for Potter and Black (and Remus and Pettigrew, come to think of it) was well founded, and Lily knew that. She fought for Sev against the bullying.

And that’s why it hurt so much when he did it:

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” He said what he promised to never say about her.

Lily blinked. Had he just…? It could not be. Not when she was… defending him! She could not believe it!

But he had.

And instead of being transferred, her anger simply doubled – directed at both Potter and Snape now. She registered quickly the shocked look that Potter sported, but quickly shoved it aside.

Mudblood.

“Fine,” she said with the coldest tone she could muster. She could not – would not – cry in front of him, “I won’t bother in the future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.”

Mudblood. Years of friendship, and he still thought this of her. The blood was pounding in her ears, anger stopping her from losing it right then, right there.

“Apologise to Evans!” Potter shouted angrily, pointing his wand at Snape.

Lily snapped.

“I don’t want you to make him apologise,” she screamed. No one should have to make him apologise, much less Potter, “you’re as bad as he is.”

“WHAT?” Potter had the audacity to sound outraged, as if he had not been the one to push Snape to the edge, to make him call her- “I’d NEVER call you a – you-know-what!”

She ignored that he was right – Potter could be a lot of bad things, but blood prejudice was not something he possessed. She just wanted to hurt the people who had hurt her.

“Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK!”

She screamed everything she always had wanted to and even more. Maybe it was uncalled for, since Potter had tried to defend her on the final bit. But she felt her anger diminish, and what came after was hurt and pain and tears.

So she simply ignored Potter calling her name and headed to her dorm, slightly conscious of Mary following her. She was so stupid to care, but she just could not stop caring.

Mary said soothing words and even offered to bring her food from lunch. She thanked, but she had lost her appetite. She arrived at last minute on the practical DADA exam, successfully ignoring the entire student body.

She pretended not to see Remus’s worried glance and Potter’s weird face (was that guilt? Pity? Worry? She did not care at the moment) – she was not fine, and her red eyes showed it. At least she did not see Snape, and she left as quickly as she could.

“So how was it?” Mary asked when she arrived at the dorm, a plate of food on her hands. Lily smiled her thanks – she was a bit hungry, but not enough to go down and eat supper with the rest of the Hogwarts population (which, as aforementioned, she judged to be stupid).

“How was what?” Lily asked, eating some bread.

“The exam!”

“Oh,” she replied with a shrug, “it was fine, I suppose. Guess I’ll get an O.”

Mary shook her head in disbelief.

“Only you could get an O after what happened earlier.”

Lily raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat, while Mary grimaced.

“Sorry, that was rude,” Mary apologised, “wanna talk about it?” She asked, and Lily shrugged in reply. It meant a lot about how great of a friend she was, considering what she thought of Snape.

“It’s just… we argued just the other day, not about this, exactly, but… he was complaining about us not being as friends anymore, and I said that it was because of the company he kept…” Mary nodded. She did not need to be remembered who Snape was friends with, “and he wasn’t actually listening to me, y’know? He was more worried about trashing Potter and the others…”

“Well, there’s history there, Lily. It’s not the first time he complains about James and the rest.”

“I know that. It didn’t surprise me either, and I always overlooked some of the stuff Sev did…” Lily sighed. “Not now, tho. Now he’s crossed the line. I won’t tolerate it anymore. I’m done with him.”

She watched in confusion as Mary grimaced again.

“He’s down there. At the portrait. He wants to talk to you.”

Lily blinked and gaped.

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“I told him that already, I swear I did!” Mary replied. “Well, after giving Potter and Black a good shove so they wouldn’t try anything with Snape… he says he’s gonna sleep outside the portrait hole to wait for you to come out tomorrow.”

Lily sighed. Maybe she should get it over with?

The Common Room was already deserted at the time she put on her robe and decided to end it. She expected not to feel anything, but anger quickly came back when she saw Severus. Her former best friend, now gone to the Dark Arts – excited to join the Death Eaters.

It killed her to know that, but – as she told him – she was tired, so tired of making up excuses for him.

And even when she went back to the Common Room, swearing she would not care about it anymore, the tears could not be stopped. She climbed on a couch and hugged a cushion, keeping her sobs quiet.

She did not know how long she spent there until she heard a noise from the boys’ dorm. Quickly she tried to erase all traces of tears from her face and prepared her glare – if it was Potter…

However, the shadow that accompanied the steps told her it was not Potter – not because she knew Potter’s shadow, but because it did not resemble a human’s shadow in any form. It was a bit pointy on top, and it had… projections on the bottom? What the actual…?

“You said you’d pick the squid over me, so I had to turn into it to leave you with no choice…”

Then the thing came to her vision and could not believe her eyes.

James Bloody Potter had fashioned himself a squid costume, tentacles included! She could see his face where the squid’s eyes should be, and he wore a smirk.

The ridiculousness of the occasion was too much for Lily – she laughed, and hard. For a few minutes she could only laugh, allowing Potter to come closer and stand near her (she figured he was not able to sit, which only made her laugh more).

“You’re so stupid!” She said (also an aforementioned fact). James grinned.

“Well, I think you made that very clear, thank you.”

“Well, you deserved it, so welcome.” Lily shrugged. She did not regret what she said earlier. “What are you doing here, Potter?” Lily asked, with a tired edge on her voice.

“Heard the git had threatened to sleep outside and had to make sure he wouldn’t – well, at least not unscathed, that is…” He replied smirking. Lily sighed.

“Why do you have to be such a toerag?” Lily asked.

“Because some people deserve it.” He replied simply. “Not you, tho. I’m just really stupid around you.”

“You didn’t even know him when you started with him,” Lily remembered him. James raised his eyebrows.

“He insulted Gryffindor. Really, Evans, what else did I need to know?”

Lily decided she would have laughed any other day, but not tonight.

“So you were planning on scaring him on this?” She asked instead, gesturing to his ridiculous outfit. Looking at his face, she noted a distinct blush. What in the world…?

“Well, no. I noticed you were down here and I came to… y’know…” he trailed off. Lily raised her eyebrows.

“Ask me out?” She asked.

“No! Well, yes, a bit. If you say yes, that is.”

“Really, Potter. I’d rather the squid.”

Potter glared.

“I’m a squid. That’s the whole point. Or you only take the giant ones?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking. Lily blushed at the innuendo and shook her head.

“And you wonder why I keep away from you…” She mumbled. Potter sat beside her (so he could sit!) and sighed.

“Look, actually I wanted to say I’m sorry.” He said. Lily narrowed her eyes. “I mean it. Not for what I did – that git deserves it and more – but because you lost a friend, even a lousy one like Snivellus. He’s rotten company, Evans, and I’d say, ‘I told you so’, but I won’t, because losing a mate’s bad enough.”

Lily was a bit confused and surprised. She considered to pinch herself to make sure she was not dreaming. Potter saying he was sorry for her and Snape’s falling out?

“And you needed to wear… that?” Lily asked in a whisper. Potter smirked.

“Oh, no. This was to make you laugh, which I did.”

Lily could not hold her smile. Had Potter come down to check on her?

“I think I’ll save this, tho. Maybe next term, when you’re free from his greasy and toxic presence you’ll see reason and go out with me…” Potter said, a silly grin on his face.

“Yeah, well, the head’s still too fat for my liking…” she replied with a shrug. Potter laughed and backed away.

“We’ll see, Evans. We’ll see.”

Only years later she would admit to stupid James Potter how much him dressing as that squid had meant to her, which caused him to do it again on the Hallowe’en of 1980, just for her laugh, which lead to some kisses and some moans, and in July of 1981, lead to a new Potter.

But that is a whole different story.

[winchester-with-wings]

Late Night Chivalry

Peter Parker x Reader

🕷🕸 Anon Commissioned on May 15th :  A fluff Peter ParkerxReader 1.5k words. Sumthin like Peter and you been really good friends (you know his secret) and he ends up savin you from gettin mugged as you’re walkin home from hangin out with him earlier that night and he comforts you cuz of how scared you were and just him bein the little sweetie pie he normally is. Take as much liberty as you want, I just want sweet and savory feelins after intense action. I’ll donate on kofi, knows it’s me from the signature -🕷🕸

Word Count: 2400ish. Anon paid for only 1.5k but the story wanted to be longer :) That’s on me and I’m happy with the result :)

Trigger Warning: harassment, potential assault, mugging, language

Mobile Masterlist / Ko-Fi (anything helps to pay the bills <3)

Wanna commission a fic like this? Click here!

Between binge-watching Netflix and a few video game sessions, you and Peter still managed to work on a school project. Just like any other Saturday night for you nerds.

It’s past midnight when your eyes finally feel heavy with exhaustion. Peter catches you dozing once or twice, your legs tangled in his blankets on the bottom bunk of his bunk bed.

“I should go,” you say, rolling off the bed and nearly falling to the floor. Peter chuckles and groans. He hangs from the top bunk, his feet hooked on the rails so that he can dangle upside down while he watches you collect your things, stuffing textbooks and papers into your bag with no regard.

“You sure you don’t want to stay here tonight? I’ll give you the top bunk” he offers.

“As nice as that sounds, Pete, I gotta get home. Mom and I are making pancakes tomorrow morning. You know how important that is to her…”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugs with a frown well aware of your current home situation. He cared for you mom as much as his own Aunt May. You had grown up living in the same building as Peter ever since he came to live with his Aunt May. After your parents’ divorce, you and your mom had had to move; both he and May had felt the loss of their friends and neighbors.

“Still...I wish you didn’t have to go.” Peter starts climbing along the wall and up to the ceiling. He does it so casually around you now that you’d known his secret for a year or so now. He starts dangling from the ceiling. His apparent desire to stall your retreat has you taking a seat and munching on some cheetos. “Hey, remember when your mom and May would let us have sleepovers?”

“Yeah, and remember how they stopped letting us do that when we were each other’s first kiss. You really think they’ll let us have a sleepover as teenagers? What with having gone through puberty?” you roll your eyes. Your mention of your shared first kiss carried no awkwardness with it.

“Yeah. Puberty was pretty rough on you too, huh?” Peter teases and you throw a cheeto at him. He catches it in his mouth and chews. You can’t imagine how he manages to chew and swallow while upside down. “I’m kidding. You know what I think of you.” Your blush is faint and barely noticeable. Having grown up together, the two of you had entertained the notion of dating once or twice. The timing was never really right and luckily it hadn’t affected your friendship. “I just worry about you. That’s why I don’t want you to go. I don’t like that you live so far away now.”

“I know, but that’s how it is now, Petey. Mom couldn’t keep the apartment when Dad left. We had to move away.” You roll up the bag of cheetos and set it aside. Shirking on your backpack, you look like you’re ready to leave. You tug on Peter’s shirt to make him drop from the ceiling; you didn’t tug hard...like it’s not like you yanked him from the ceiling...it was more like a tug on a rope to signal your descent...he knew what you meant.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be doing these late nights anymore,” he suggested, straightening out his clothes and hair.

“If you don’t want me hanging around anymore, Peter, just say so,” you tease, always only half joking.

“No! That’s not it at all! I just don’t like the idea of you walking home alone.”

“Don’t worry. I have pepper spray. Dad gave it to me...before I went on my first date.” You tap Peter on the nose. He sighs.

“Oh, I thought you were going to say that’s what he gave you before he left.”

“Well that’s just sad and mean. No, he got me a new cell phone that day.”

“Ouch.” Peter slings his arms around your shoulders. Talking to him about your dad, someone who’d decided to leave with little regard for yourself or your mother, wasn’t such a heavy burden with Peter. You could tell him anything and he’d understand the serious undertone at the same time as he’d try to make things better. That’s one of the things you loved about him. “Just promise me, you’ll be safe and use that new cell phone to call me when you get home?”

“Of course! The new place is just three blocks away from the train station.”

Peter slips his feet into a pair of sneakers. “Okay...just let me walk you out, at least.”

Peter probably went out on a nightly patrol as Spider-man when you left. You didn’t think much of it. You didn’t worry for him as much as he’d seemed worried for you. But why should he worry? You’d grown up in this city--granted you’re in a new neighborhood but hey! Spider-man had made it a safer neighborhood, right?

The train ride was short and uneventful. You weren’t the only one there. Maybe a few older teens, a nurse on her way home, an old lady with a paper grocery bag (at this time of night? Sure why not?). You kept to yourself--obviously--and thought nothing of your short commute home until you were off the train.

You assume the four men at the stop are waiting to board the train you’ve just exited. You give it no passing thought. But when you start heading down the street, away from the platform, the muffled sound of their voices alerts you to the fact that they never did board the train. You hope they’re heading somewhere else but what are the chances?

“Hey, baby!” one of them calls out. You ignore them, pretend you have headphones in and you can’t hear them.

“Hey sweet thing! Hold up!” another one of them shouts. You can’t pretend you didn’t hear that. They say so themselves. You bring your backpack in front of you, opening the pockets to search for your house keys. The pepper spray is a keychain. Why didn’t you walk home with this already in hand? Because you were delusional to think you’d be safe after midnight in Queens? As your fingers curl around the key ring, you hear the heavy footsteps rushing towards you.

“Hey babe, why not answering us? You got somewhere better to be?”

They start to circle you, even as you press forward.

“Leave me alone,” you protest in an even voice, despite the fear and adrenaline rushing through you.

“Nah, you can’t just walk away. You just got off the train right? You gotta pay the toll.”

“What are you? Freaking trolls that live under a bridge? Leave me alone!” You stand up for yourself, shoving past one of the men and brandishing your pepper spray. They curse at you, lunge for you and grab at your backpack. You hold onto it out of instinct. The only thing worth anything in there is just your wallet. Why are you fighting for it? Defiance in the face of weakness, that’s why.

They get too close to you, overpowering you, one of them holding you back while the other two wrassle away your backpack. You yank your arm free just for a moment and aim your pepper spray at the closest man.

“Ah!! SHIT!” he yells, letting go of your bag. His friends are startled enough to loosen their hold on you and your belongings. You grab them and run. Just one more block! You tell yourself and your pounding heart.

“Get back here bitch!” one of them shouts. A quick glance over your shoulder and you think you see the glint of light bouncing off a blade.

“Hey! That’s no way to talk to a lady!” someone else shouts.

You’re stomach sinks--both with relief and fear.

Someone’s coming to help you.

But you know that voice.

You hide behind a bus shelter and finally turn around to look for your assailants. Right away, the whimpering man whose face is red and streaked with tears...he’s taken care of. His hands are still covering his face as he tries to relieve the pain. Instead, Spider-man’s webbing covers his face and hands, effectively gluing them together.

Spider-man swings in and rams into the same guy, knocking him off balance and into a wall. The other two, they turn to face the brave teenaged Avenger.

“You’re far from your turf, bugboy!” one of them growls as he lunges for Spider-man. He jumps out of the way and onto the side of a building. He shoots twice from wrists. The man is knocked off balance by his near miss and Spider-man is able to stick one foot and one hand to the ground.

“This is my neighborhood too. I can’t have you going around and mugging people!” Spider-man...Peter...jumps off the side of the building and lands a few feet from the third assailant. He stands up at his full height with his shoulders tall and chest out. “And I definitely can’t have you attacking my friends.”

Contrary to his usual style, Peter runs at the man straight on.

“No! He’s got a knife!” you shout. It doesn’t seem to register or matter to him. Peter is stronger than he looks. He tries to punch the guy but he blocks it and tries to restrain him with his webbing. But the mugger uses his knife in his other hand to cut the webbing and break free.

“Spider-freak!” The man shouts as he swipes at Peter. Peter jumps back, seemingly avoiding the blade. But you see his hand rush to his abdomen. He’s hurt! And he’s distracted enough that the mugger lands a few punches to lay Peter out on the floor. “Spider-man? You’re just a loser kid. Now get out of here!”

“No,” Peter groans, struggling to get up. The mugger sets his sights on you. You’re frozen, unsure of whether to run to Peter or to run for safety.

“Peter,” you whisper, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“Karen! Taser web! High voltage!” Peter shouts and his suit responds. Peter extends his left arm and his webshooters let loose. The taser web fires in two strands and hits your would-be attacker in the back. The man loses his voice as he tries to cry out at the pain of voltage surging through him. He convulses and drops to the ground. Another release of his normal webbing and the mugger’s is stuck to the pavement.

Peter collapses too.

You’re supporting Spider-man’s weight as you take him home with you. He’s keeping his hand on his side and you’re concerned at even the slightest sight of blood.

“Peter, you idiot. Why did you do that?” you hiss, tears are running down your cheeks despite your best effort to keep calm.

“Idiot? Didn’t I save you?”

“Yeah, but...now you’re hurt! How did you even know?”

Despite his condition, the two of you are quiet as you enter your apartment building and head for your front door. Your mom is working a night shift. She’ll be home soon, just in time for breakfast.

“Um...I was following you...obviously. Like I said, I was worried about you,” Peter admits as you bring him inside and towards your bedroom.

You urge him to sit on your bed. You try to make him lie down so you can look at his wound.

“Stop fussing, Nurse Y/N. I’m fine. I’ll heal.” He even says this just as he uses some of his webbing as a bandage. You jab at his shoulder.

“Of course I won’t stop fussing! You scared me half to death! I was so worried about you getting hurt, Pete!” Your body is tensing up, the adrenaline in your veins dying off and bringing you back to the verge of exhaustion. Your knees feel like they’re about to give up but you feel like you can only muster enough strength to scold your friend for risking his life.

Peter pulls off his mask and taps his chest to loosen his suit; it pools around his waist where he’s sitting. You can see the bruises beginning to form on his cheek and stomach, and again the large gash in his side from the knife currently bandaged with spiderwebs.

He tugs on your hand and makes you sit on your bed beside him.

“Are you alright? Are you sure?” he asks you. You nod but it only takes another second before you start hyperventilating and shaking. “Oh geez,” he sighs and wraps his arms around you. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you.”

“The way they came after me...and then…” you gasp, “then you showed up and I was so scared for you. Peter...I know you’re Spider-man. I know you can take care of yourself but I don’t see you that way, Pete! You’re my friend and all I could see was my friend putting himself in danger for me. I was…” you tremble…”I was...scared,” you admit. Curling into his bare chest and he holds onto you even tighter. He hums and shushes you.

“It’s okay. I’m here for you. I’ll always protect you. I’ll always follow you like a creep, I promise,” his comment elicits a small chuckle from you both. He tries to lay you down but you cling to him. Eventually, you release him, allowing him to strip out of his spider-suit and into a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt he’s likely left behind in the past.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whimper as he climbs back onto the bed with you and opens his arms again. “Don’t leave me. Don’t be like him.” Peter’s chest fills with a sharp intake of breath. He’s solid and stable, enveloping you in his warmth and comfort.

“Never. I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be there. As your friendly neighborhood Spider-man and as your best friend.” Peter kisses the top of your head. “I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you.”

A moment of silence passes as you relax and your tears of shock dry on your cheeks.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Peter’s arms encircle you even more, cuddling you.

“Of course.”

Your mother comes home tired and ready to crawl into bed, but not before she has pancakes with you.

She peeks into your room and sees Peter sleeping next to you. She doesn’t say anything.

She naps on the couch until you wake up on your own and when only you come out of your room she asks, “Will Peter be joining us?”

She doesn’t say much more, doesn’t question his presence at the dining table as he stuffs his mouth with chocolate chip pancakes. She knows he’ll always be here for you. That’s all she could’ve ever hoped for.

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[96thdayofrage]

Rachel Maddow Just Kicked The Gaslighting Campaign Against Berners Into Fifth Gear

I’m noticing a pattern here. It goes like this: First, some pro-establishment corporate media outlet publishes an unsubstantiated claim featuring a headline that is designed to make that unsubstantiated claim sound factual. The claim gets some traction but isn’t picked up by other mainstream outlets that want to preserve their appearance of journalistic integrity. Second, Rachel Maddow picks up the fact-free story, reports it as fact, and then proceeds to jack those unfounded claims as far out into the stratosphere as she can throw them, far beyond the  original baseless claims' wildest ambitions. Third, once Maddow has reported the false claim as fact, it is absorbed as doctrine by the rest of the mainstream media, who now feel comfortable reporting on the claim as though it is something factual and not a complete fabrication, and before long you’ve got Democratic leaders regurgitating the establishment lies on national television.

We saw this pattern reemerge recently with Maddow putting a massive spin on an unsubstantiated Buzzfeed article featuring the completely groundless claim that WikiLeaks selectively curated its DNC leaks in a way to make the DNC look bad, and now we’ve got people like former DNC head Donna Brazile going around repeating the claim as though it has some basis in reality. We saw it again when Maddow spun the hell out of an already heavily-spun article by the CIA-funded Washington Post claiming the Trump camp “gutted” the GOP’s position on protecting Ukraine from Russia, when in reality the change made to the Republican platform regarding Ukraine was actually more aggressive in its language than its predecessor and expanded possible actions to be taken against Russia beyond merely arming the Ukrainian military. It was a complete fabrication by WaPo and Maddow, but Congressman Adam Schiff even repeated the claim as though it was factual in his statement at Monday’s House Intelligence Committee hearing. Schiff also made use of Christopher Steele’s embarrassingly error-riddled and uncorroborated Pissgate dossier in his statement, which Maddow has been telling her viewers provides evidence that Trump was blackmailed into pushing for the entirely fictional gutting of the GOP’s anti-Russia platform.

And now she appears to be ramping things up again, this time using a porous Huffington Post story built on nothing but anecdotal evidence which I won’t spend any time on because it’s already been thoroughly debunked here by progressive powerhouse Michael Sainato. According to Maddow’s delusional tirade, online communities for Bernie Sanders supporters were inundated with anti-Hillary fake news articles from places like Macedonia and Albania, which she says “turned social media into brainless anti-Clinton mush during the campaign.” Maddow argues that this "information warfare" from Russia deliberately hurt public opinion of Hillary Clinton, the implication being, of course, that it couldn't possibly have been because Clinton was a corrupt warmongering ghoul queen with no redeeming characteristics.

Employing her trademarked Gish Gallop fallacious argument tactic, Maddow then snowed her viewers with another completely separate report about the Russian government using bots (which she horrifyingly labeled “international warfare against our country") to circulate articles from Infowars, Breitbart, RT and Sputnik, without ever explaining how that in any way relates to the troll-circulated Macedonian clickbait referenced in the other article. Maddow uses this tactic constantly, by the way, overwhelming her viewers with rapid-fire arguments that are weak in themselves, but strung together with an authoritative tone and generous lashings of her famous Resting Smug Face to confuse the viewer into thinking they just listened to a persuasive case. That’s why you encounter so many people online who are extremely confident about the evidence for Russiagate, for example, but when questioned, they even seem to surprise themselves with their inability to articulate a solid line of thought to clearly back up that initial surge of confidence with facts.

Since Maddow’s spin on the HuffPo article is premised entirely on anecdotal evidence, I can counter with anecdotal evidence of my own. I was deeply involved in the Bernie groups on Facebook, and while I remember there being an abundance of clickbait articles, the majority of them were not fake news stories about Hillary Clinton. I remember seeing the clickbait pieces on Clinton having a body double after she collapsed at the 9/11 memorial, but I also remember seeing tons of clickbait with headlines promising readers that there was a way Bernie Sanders could still become president long after that door had closed, only to bombard them with ads for dick pills and toe fungus cures once they clicked. Most of the Macedonian clickbait that was designed to target Bernie Sanders supporters was, believe it or not, about Bernie Sanders. There were some about Trump and some about Clinton, but the Bernie ones enjoyed the widest circulation.

Gaslighting is a textbook tactic utilized by abusers all over the world in which the victim is convinced over time that they are unable to trust their own interpretation of reality due to some mental deficiency. If an abuser can convince his wife that she is misremembering and misinterpreting events, for example, he can get away with doing anything he wants to her and she’ll wind up not only staying, but apologizing for things she doesn’t remember ever doing. This is what is happening when Sanders supporters, after being used like toilet paper by the political establishment throughout the entire presidential election cycle, are told by a multimillionaire establishment pundit that the disdain they feel for the candidate who was illicitly forced upon them is just something fake that they were deceived into feeling.

How great will it be for the Democratic establishment if they can pull this one off, though? If they can convince rank-and-file Democrats that they didn’t just run an unbelievably incompetent campaign using a historically despised candidate they illicitly installed as their nominee, but rather acted perfectly only to be thwarted by the hypnotic allure of Russian propaganda? How much of a boon would it be to the Democratic party if they can convince their disenfranchised progressive base that their experience of being lied to, cheated, exploited and used by the party and its loyalists really was just the  “brainless anti-Clinton mush” that Rachel Maddow says it was? They’d never have to change. Never have to risk losing any of their cozy power positions to progressive newcomers or displeasing their corporatist donors with a shift to the left on economic justice. Everything could go right back to how it was before that annoying Sanders character came along and rocked the boat.

What’s infuriating is that we know from the emails that Hillary Clinton had virtually every mainstream media outlet at her beck and call. Podesta and his team were so confident of their maestro-like orchestration of the media they would casually note that they would “tell the press” to do their bidding. It was nothing for them to call in this journalist, give them an angle on a story and have them write it up, and then the journalist would check back with them before even giving it to their editor. Hillary Clinton’s team played the media like a cathedral organ, hitting whatever note they liked, whenever it suited them. They treated the media like it was Hillary’s own public relations team. That’s not a Maddow fact; that’s a real fact, documented in the emails.

For Maddow to turn that around and now say that all of that power was nothing in the face of some Macedonian clickbait belting around the internet clogging up people’s screens with pop-ups, well… that’s a stretch even Jake the Dog would shy from.

Sanders appealed because he spoke from his gut like a real human about real things that real people wanted. Hillary’s undoing was her sheer lack of policy, personality, integrity and humanity. Every tweet sounded like it was created by a team of thirty-something bespectacled and bearded hipsters, because it was. Every speech sounded empty of meaning and devoid of policy, because it was. Every appearance felt contrived, every spontaneous photo opportunity looked staged, every question asked from every audience member looked as phony as a Dance Moms’ group hug, because it was. And it all culminated in that ghastly Hunger Games-esque convention where half the audience of delegates were drowned out by white noise machines and hidden by large security guys holding Hillary signs while those on stage pulled every tragedy-vulture trick in the book to wring Munchausen levels of emotion out of every labored civil rights sequence.

And none of that had anything to do with Macedonian clickbait. We hated Hillary because she fucking sucked.

[foursproutwealth-blog]

The Future Is What We Make Of It - Part 2

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/the-future-is-what-we-make-of-it-part-2/

The Future Is What We Make Of It - Part 2

Authored by Mike Krieger via Liberty Blitzkrieg blog,

I want to really think differently than the very consistent liberal-media line of, Well if they just knew better they would vote differently. They’re under-informed, they’re under-educated. I think it really misunderstands something, which is that, just because people are not acting rationally in accordance with what you think is rational, doesn’t mean that they’re not acting rationally. And I think there’s perfectly rational voter behavior in voting for Trump. For economic reasons and social reasons.

  Life is getting worse. You are less comfortable in your own house, in your own town, in your own skin. Your outlook for the future is worse with every passing year. And you conscientiously voted for people through this entire time. So it is actually an established fact that the system did not work for you. This representative democracy thing. And so you go and lob a grenade at it, when the grenade becomes available. And that is rational.

  – From the excellent interview of Masha Gessen via The Atlantic

In yesterday’s post, I discussed the future opportunity and danger presented by that large mass of the American public that self-identifies as part of “the resistance.” Before I continue, we should revisit a few of the key points made. For example:

With Trump’s election, the mask is finally off. Even Trump supporters admit that his election was a reaction to how corrupt and fraudulent our economy and society had become during the 21st century — first under Bush and then Obama. Independents such as myself, despite finding Trump revolting and dangerous, tend to agree with this assessment.

  The only significant group of people who simply refuse to admit this fact are those who proudly proclaim themselves to be part of “the resistance.” Many of them thought everything was going just fine for the country while Obama was President simply because things were going well for them, which is just human nature. If things are going fine for you on a individual level, there isn’t much incentive to peek behind the curtain and question what’s really going on. You’re simply too busy feeling good about yourself and focusing on getting ahead. I know because I’ve been there.

Also this:

It’s tempting to just write these people off as useful idiots being easily corralled into the vicious arms of neocons and deep state psychopaths following the emotional trauma inflicted upon their psyche by the election of Donald Trump. It’s tempting to do that, because in many ways that’s a fairly accurate description of what’s going on, but I want to try to be less judgmental right now. When thinking back to the early days of my awakening, I remember how malleable my mind was to all sorts of influences, both positive and negative. This is what happens to people when your entire worldview is suddenly shattered or disrupted. Human nature is to look for an alternative narrative that can help you once again make sense of the world. Unfortunately for most card-carrying members of “the resistance,” nefarious characters within corporate media and U.S. intelligence agencies were ready with a comforting narrative which gave them permission to avoid confronting reality: Russia did it.

We should not write off our fellow humans simply because they voted for Trump, or because they foolishly embraced some delusional conspiracy which blames Russia for everything. There are tens of millions of very decent people within both these groups who genuinely care about the country and making things better. We must never forget that convincing one group of voters to hate and dehumanize another group of voters serves the interests of the power structure and no one else. People have been successfully manipulated into thinking that their fellow citizens with essentially zero power are the real enemy as opposed to the oligarchs who actually destroyed and pillaged the country. This is why I focus pretty much all my posts on the bigger picture and direct my energy to calling out those with actual power. If you spend your entire day fuming about how stupid Trump voters are, or how “the resistance” are just a bunch of brainwashed useful idiots, you’re being intentionally played by those who’re really in power.

As discussed yesterday, Trump’s election caused a mental breakdown across a wide swath of the U.S. population. This happened because millions upon millions of people thought things were going just fine under Obama, simply because things were going fine for them. The corporate media and discredited neocons/neoliberals working in tandem with U.S. intelligence agencies immediately saw this crisis for the opportunity it was. They could present themselves as leaders of “the resistance” and blame Trump’s rise on Russia. This way demoralized, yet financially successful, Hillary Clinton voters could continue to tell themselves the same comforting tale that everything’s inherently fine in this country were it not for Russia. You couldn’t come up with a more perfect narrative for the rejected status quo to use in order to reestablish its authority if you tried. Unfortunately, it’s largely worked thus far.

Sounds depressing, I know. Nevertheless, just because it’s worked so far, doesn’t mean it’ll work forever. One of the key points I highlighted in yesterday’s piece is that people are very vulnerable to manipulation and bad ideas in the immediate aftermath of any trauma that comes with one’s worldview being shattered. People tend to look for grand enemies in the face of such distress, whether that be the Rothschilds, the Illuminati or Vladimir Putin. It’s all the same in the end. This isn’t to say I deny the existence of extremely rich and powerful people in the world who wield tremendous influence in world affairs, I certainly think there are. Rather, it’s to say that human beings often times get so caught up on grand conspiracy theories they do nothing to change the world around them. This leads them to just sit around shivering in fear warning everyone around them about the masters pulling the strings, and how these forces are unstoppable.

The truth of the matter is that we’re the ones ruining everything. All of us are extremely flawed, yet most of us choose to focus on and highlight the flaws of others as opposed to looking inward. As I wrote about at length earlier this year, the greatest impact that 99% of us can have on the world comes from working on ourselves as individuals. Imagine if in the course of such personal work a couple billion people on the planet truly became more decent, conscious people. Don’t you think that would change the world far more than electing another loathsome politician with false promises?

As frustrating and dysfunctional as the current political environment is, we need to remember that we’re still only one year apart from the 2016 election. The clownish “resistance” to Trump rooted in Russia conspiracy fantasies is still very young in the tooth, and I’m optimistic a certain percentage of this group will eventually see the error of their ways and move on. I’m not talking about a majority, but enough to make a difference. There are two things that lead me to this conclusion. First, since I think people are most vulnerable right after a trauma, the low hanging fruits of manipulation have been picked. Second, the argument that Russia is to blame for all that ails us, ignores the existence of the surveillance state, endless imperial wars abroad, a dysfunctional healthcare system, a parasitic financial services industry, etc. The singular focus on blaming Russia for everything as opposed to admitting that our biggest problems are homegrown is as irrational as it isn cynical. It simply doesn’t stand up to any sort of reasonable debate, and will only continue to work on people who desperately want to live a lie in order to feel better.

As Caitlin Johnstone wrote in her excellent piece, Accusing Someone You Disagree With Of Being A Russian Troll Is Admitting You Have No Argument:

There is no legitimate reason to ever accuse a stranger you disagree with of being a Russian agent. Firstly, you cannot possibly know that the stranger you’re dialoguing with works for the Kremlin. Secondly, even in the highly unlikely event that the person you are speaking to really is a secret Russian agent, you should still be able to out-debate them. Kremlin trolls don’t have magical powers. They can’t hypnotize you. If you’re interacting with one they’ll be advancing arguments and ideas just like anyone else, and if your arguments and ideas are defensible you should be able to defend them clearly and articulately.

This is exactly right, and it’s why I don’t think this Russia narrative will continue to exert the societal influence it does today as we move into 2018 and 2019. It’s a psy op which doesn’t stand up to any critical thinking, and a certain percentage of “the resistance” will ultimately move on to more productive behavior. Even if the percentage that discards the Russia obsession is only 5%-10% of the total, this might still equate to millions of people and that’s enough to result in a meaningful change to political dialogue.

Of course, I can’t predict the future and you could easily make the exact opposite argument. I get that, but my overall optimistic vision is based on a lot more than the belief a few card-carrying “resistance” groupies will come to their senses. On a much more global level, I believe the unprecedented connectivity provided to the world via the internet will eventually lead to a much more conscious and healthy environment for human beings on this majestic planet.

People are still grossly underestimating the impact of the internet on human affairs on earth. We remain in inning 1, maybe 2.

— Michael Krieger (@LibertyBlitz) November 21, 2017

This will be the main topic of conversation in tomorrow’s piece.

*  *  *

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[foursprout-blog]

The Future Is What We Make Of It - Part 2

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/the-future-is-what-we-make-of-it-part-2/

The Future Is What We Make Of It - Part 2

Authored by Mike Krieger via Liberty Blitzkrieg blog,

I want to really think differently than the very consistent liberal-media line of, Well if they just knew better they would vote differently. They’re under-informed, they’re under-educated. I think it really misunderstands something, which is that, just because people are not acting rationally in accordance with what you think is rational, doesn’t mean that they’re not acting rationally. And I think there’s perfectly rational voter behavior in voting for Trump. For economic reasons and social reasons.

  Life is getting worse. You are less comfortable in your own house, in your own town, in your own skin. Your outlook for the future is worse with every passing year. And you conscientiously voted for people through this entire time. So it is actually an established fact that the system did not work for you. This representative democracy thing. And so you go and lob a grenade at it, when the grenade becomes available. And that is rational.

  – From the excellent interview of Masha Gessen via The Atlantic

In yesterday’s post, I discussed the future opportunity and danger presented by that large mass of the American public that self-identifies as part of “the resistance.” Before I continue, we should revisit a few of the key points made. For example:

With Trump’s election, the mask is finally off. Even Trump supporters admit that his election was a reaction to how corrupt and fraudulent our economy and society had become during the 21st century — first under Bush and then Obama. Independents such as myself, despite finding Trump revolting and dangerous, tend to agree with this assessment.

  The only significant group of people who simply refuse to admit this fact are those who proudly proclaim themselves to be part of “the resistance.” Many of them thought everything was going just fine for the country while Obama was President simply because things were going well for them, which is just human nature. If things are going fine for you on a individual level, there isn’t much incentive to peek behind the curtain and question what’s really going on. You’re simply too busy feeling good about yourself and focusing on getting ahead. I know because I’ve been there.

Also this:

It’s tempting to just write these people off as useful idiots being easily corralled into the vicious arms of neocons and deep state psychopaths following the emotional trauma inflicted upon their psyche by the election of Donald Trump. It’s tempting to do that, because in many ways that’s a fairly accurate description of what’s going on, but I want to try to be less judgmental right now. When thinking back to the early days of my awakening, I remember how malleable my mind was to all sorts of influences, both positive and negative. This is what happens to people when your entire worldview is suddenly shattered or disrupted. Human nature is to look for an alternative narrative that can help you once again make sense of the world. Unfortunately for most card-carrying members of “the resistance,” nefarious characters within corporate media and U.S. intelligence agencies were ready with a comforting narrative which gave them permission to avoid confronting reality: Russia did it.

We should not write off our fellow humans simply because they voted for Trump, or because they foolishly embraced some delusional conspiracy which blames Russia for everything. There are tens of millions of very decent people within both these groups who genuinely care about the country and making things better. We must never forget that convincing one group of voters to hate and dehumanize another group of voters serves the interests of the power structure and no one else. People have been successfully manipulated into thinking that their fellow citizens with essentially zero power are the real enemy as opposed to the oligarchs who actually destroyed and pillaged the country. This is why I focus pretty much all my posts on the bigger picture and direct my energy to calling out those with actual power. If you spend your entire day fuming about how stupid Trump voters are, or how “the resistance” are just a bunch of brainwashed useful idiots, you’re being intentionally played by those who’re really in power.

As discussed yesterday, Trump’s election caused a mental breakdown across a wide swath of the U.S. population. This happened because millions upon millions of people thought things were going just fine under Obama, simply because things were going fine for them. The corporate media and discredited neocons/neoliberals working in tandem with U.S. intelligence agencies immediately saw this crisis for the opportunity it was. They could present themselves as leaders of “the resistance” and blame Trump’s rise on Russia. This way demoralized, yet financially successful, Hillary Clinton voters could continue to tell themselves the same comforting tale that everything’s inherently fine in this country were it not for Russia. You couldn’t come up with a more perfect narrative for the rejected status quo to use in order to reestablish its authority if you tried. Unfortunately, it’s largely worked thus far.

Sounds depressing, I know. Nevertheless, just because it’s worked so far, doesn’t mean it’ll work forever. One of the key points I highlighted in yesterday’s piece is that people are very vulnerable to manipulation and bad ideas in the immediate aftermath of any trauma that comes with one’s worldview being shattered. People tend to look for grand enemies in the face of such distress, whether that be the Rothschilds, the Illuminati or Vladimir Putin. It’s all the same in the end. This isn’t to say I deny the existence of extremely rich and powerful people in the world who wield tremendous influence in world affairs, I certainly think there are. Rather, it’s to say that human beings often times get so caught up on grand conspiracy theories they do nothing to change the world around them. This leads them to just sit around shivering in fear warning everyone around them about the masters pulling the strings, and how these forces are unstoppable.

The truth of the matter is that we’re the ones ruining everything. All of us are extremely flawed, yet most of us choose to focus on and highlight the flaws of others as opposed to looking inward. As I wrote about at length earlier this year, the greatest impact that 99% of us can have on the world comes from working on ourselves as individuals. Imagine if in the course of such personal work a couple billion people on the planet truly became more decent, conscious people. Don’t you think that would change the world far more than electing another loathsome politician with false promises?

As frustrating and dysfunctional as the current political environment is, we need to remember that we’re still only one year apart from the 2016 election. The clownish “resistance” to Trump rooted in Russia conspiracy fantasies is still very young in the tooth, and I’m optimistic a certain percentage of this group will eventually see the error of their ways and move on. I’m not talking about a majority, but enough to make a difference. There are two things that lead me to this conclusion. First, since I think people are most vulnerable right after a trauma, the low hanging fruits of manipulation have been picked. Second, the argument that Russia is to blame for all that ails us, ignores the existence of the surveillance state, endless imperial wars abroad, a dysfunctional healthcare system, a parasitic financial services industry, etc. The singular focus on blaming Russia for everything as opposed to admitting that our biggest problems are homegrown is as irrational as it isn cynical. It simply doesn’t stand up to any sort of reasonable debate, and will only continue to work on people who desperately want to live a lie in order to feel better.

As Caitlin Johnstone wrote in her excellent piece, Accusing Someone You Disagree With Of Being A Russian Troll Is Admitting You Have No Argument:

There is no legitimate reason to ever accuse a stranger you disagree with of being a Russian agent. Firstly, you cannot possibly know that the stranger you’re dialoguing with works for the Kremlin. Secondly, even in the highly unlikely event that the person you are speaking to really is a secret Russian agent, you should still be able to out-debate them. Kremlin trolls don’t have magical powers. They can’t hypnotize you. If you’re interacting with one they’ll be advancing arguments and ideas just like anyone else, and if your arguments and ideas are defensible you should be able to defend them clearly and articulately.

This is exactly right, and it’s why I don’t think this Russia narrative will continue to exert the societal influence it does today as we move into 2018 and 2019. It’s a psy op which doesn’t stand up to any critical thinking, and a certain percentage of “the resistance” will ultimately move on to more productive behavior. Even if the percentage that discards the Russia obsession is only 5%-10% of the total, this might still equate to millions of people and that’s enough to result in a meaningful change to political dialogue.

Of course, I can’t predict the future and you could easily make the exact opposite argument. I get that, but my overall optimistic vision is based on a lot more than the belief a few card-carrying “resistance” groupies will come to their senses. On a much more global level, I believe the unprecedented connectivity provided to the world via the internet will eventually lead to a much more conscious and healthy environment for human beings on this majestic planet.

People are still grossly underestimating the impact of the internet on human affairs on earth. We remain in inning 1, maybe 2.

— Michael Krieger (@LibertyBlitz) November 21, 2017

This will be the main topic of conversation in tomorrow’s piece.

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