#we're working on our communities!! don't you fucking worry!!!!

[trans-rights-coastalmangoes]

i think some of you really need to learn what respectability politics are.

if you genuinely believe that the solution to deradicalizing the ppl in the far-right pipeline is for Black & brown people to temper our anger around white people (like i have seen some of you putting on my dash today)....

there's no amount of playing nice with abusers that'll get them to listen. if they decide that they want all of us dead because they decided some of us were rude to them, that's the racism. they weren't gonna take what we said seriously in the first place.

they need to hear the stuff that'll deradicalize them from another white person. someone they can begin to have respect for. i've literally had a white self-proclaimed-leftist friend light-heartedly tell me that they need to hear what i had to say from a white person to believe it. and it's fucking racist but it's true.

we are all responsible for talking to the people who will bother to listen to us. to reeducate. but in almost every instance, no amount of Black & brown people playing nice and abiding by white rules and white comfort is gonna de-radicalize the white people who are not willing to listen to us in the first place.

[rae-writes]

Firstly, big fan of your poly mc x obey me brothers stuff. Secondly, I'm a bit curious about the dynamics between the brothers and mc (cough three-ways cough). Obviously Beel and Belphie wouldn't mind working together, but do you have any headcanons regarding the other brothers sharing?

threesome parings lets gooo! // nsfw, poly!mc (duh) // dateables and sides next maybe?? ;)

Obvious parings

Beel + Belphie; this one is the most obvious, but it works so well (Belphie likes to say they're the best tag-team). It can leave you reeling because you don't always know what's going on when they communicate with just their eyes. The favorite positions in this team are probably: you sitting on one's face while sucking the other off; riding one while the other fucks you from behind; spooning with one in front of you and one behind you

"Such a fuck-ing slut for us, huh? Our pretty little slut."

"o-oh..yeah, move your hips like that again, please..g'na c-cum-!"

"Please go faster, Mc..uh-huh, like that..a-ah! Yesyesyes, cumming! 'm cumming, oh fuck!"

"Your mouth is always so good...here, do Belphie next. Wanna prep you with my tongue."

"Mmm...slow down over there, Beel. We said we'd go slow...'s still early..'m tired." "Sorry, Belphie, but they feel so good..just listen to them. They need us." "..fine...we're going back to sleep after, though."

Lucifer + Satan; yes. These two. Their synchronized energy is almost on par with the twins (even if it's like a subtle competition the whole time) and they do everything so smoothly and seductively it makes you hot and bothered at a rate that should be illegal. The favorite positions for this team are probably: bent over something, one pounding you from the back while you suck off the other; being held up while they fuck you standing, one in front and one behind

"Come on, you can suck my cock better than that. Don't tell me he's made you dumb already?"

"No, no, no, moan my name. Yeah, that's it baby, let me hear you. Louder."

"I'm cumming- don't fucking move. I don't care if he's close, I'm filling you up first."

"You look so pretty, Mc...so. fucking. gorgeous. Doing so good for us, always do so good."

"Hold it. Yes, you can, and you will." "Don't be so mean to them, Lucifer. I think they've well earned the right to cum, don't you? I wanna feel it. Let them cum." "No. If you keep mouthing off, I'll take them away and you can finish yourself off. They hold it until I say so."

Mammon + Asmo; PARTY DUO! They're so wild and filthy and it's so fun to have both at the same time. Tag teaming you is one of the times they can bounce their energies off each other without arguments. The favorite positions of this team (though they're down to try any positions) are probably: riding one while the other fucks you from behind; train style- fucking one [w/strap or dick] while the other fucks you; both squeezing themselves between your legs to give you oral

"Harder! Yeah, yeah, yeah- like that! Come on, Mammon, fuck them faster, I need them to give me more!"

"Ahh, fuck...you're so fuckin' good t'me, baby. Look so good, you're so damn perfect- look at me, look at me, baby...fuuuckkk.."

"Come on, hon! Spread those legs a biiit wider...don't be shy~ show us your pretty self..gotta give us room to work our magic!♡"

"Rock them hips over me, baby, yeahh..make me feel so fucking good. Takin both of us so well."

"Ooh, turn them around this way!" "No way! They faced you the last time, I wanna look at them this time." "That's so not fair- oh! Aw, just listen to that little whine...you need us that badly, Mc?" "Course they do, you kept us waitin so damn long. Don't worry, baby, we gotcha."

Not-so-common pairings

Asmo + Belphie; little odd pairing here, but Asmo cancels out Belphie's sloth (and even gets him riled up in a way only Azzy can) so once you experience it, it's like the shock of temperature play. The favorite positions of this team are probably: riding Belphie while Azzy fucks you from behind; sitting on Bel's face while sucking Asmo off; getting fucked by one, head hanging off the side of the bed, while the other fucks your throat

"I knew I made the right idea picking this set out for you! You look absolutely gorgeous, Mc! Put on a little show for us?"

"Mmmnn...move faster..yeah, come on..ugh- please? Please, for me...y-yeah! Like that.."

"The way you move your tongue like that has me spinning, darling! A-ah..ah, ah-! I'm gonna cum!"

"No, no, no, look at me. At me, Mc, not at Asmo. I wanna see your face when you cum on my cock- take that pretty mouth of yours off his dick and scream my name."

"Come on, Belphie! You gotta get motivated! Just look at them, laying there so pretty for us!" "I can make them feel good without acting like you, you know." "Not unless you want me to steal them away~ Ooh, there's that competitive look in your eye!"

Lucifer + Levi; not necessarily an ‘odd’ pair, but definitely one we don’t see often. With the elder commanding the room and the younger so willing to follow along, it makes for a smooth combination (and an easy dynamic to settle into). The favorite positions for this team are probably: sucking off one while the other fucks you from behind; bending Levi over and fucking him while Luci bends you over the other and fucks you from behind; sitting on Levi’s face while sucking Lucifer off

"Ah, ah, ah. If I can hear you forming words, it means you're not sucking his cock properly. Doesn't Levi deserve some pleasure, too, hm? Go on, choke on it."

""Nghh! You f-fuck me s'good! Hnn...h-huh? Y-yes...yes, y'r fucking me dumb already- 'm your good boy t-though, please keep going!"

"So willing and obedient...you don't know what you really even do to me, do you?"

"Mmph...love the way you taste..ride my tongue faster."

"You can fuck them harder can't you? If their mouth isn't being forced onto my cock, it means you're slacking again." "S-s-sorry...they just- ah!- f-feel so good...my legs are..are already shaking." "Already? Well, if you aren't going to do it properly, let's just switch positions."

Mammon + Beel; again, not ‘odd’, but more so an overlooked- giving based- combo. They’re pretty much all about you, so it can be a bit overwhelming sometimes (but in the best way). The favorite positions for this team are probably: sitting on one’s face and giving head to the other; laying on your sides, each fucking you from the front and back; riding one while the other feels you up and plays with you

"Aw, why're ya cryin', baby? Yeah? Feels good? Sweet little thing...how bout we make ya feel even better?"

"No, no- don't run away, Mc..not done yet..you can take us both at the same time, know you can."

"Y'look s'good ridin' him like that. Can't wait for my turn, fuck, do you feel what you do to me? C'mon, baby, feel it...s'all for you."

"Make him cum again..I don't wanna stop tasting you yet."

"Beel! C'mon! I wanna taste 'em too! Stop hogging!" "But their taste.." "I know- but look at 'em. They're dying to taste you, too. So give me a turn, yeah? Let 'em get their fill." "Okay...just for you, Mc.."

Levi + Belphie; this one…is interesting. It’s easy to run things because of their natures, but this is the unofficial ‘drastic switch’ team— you never really know what you’re getting with them. The favorite positions for them are probably: giving both a handjob while they pleasure you; riding one and making out with the other; getting fucked from behind and fucking the other

"D-don't stop- hnn..! O-oh, u-uh-huh, make me cum again, don't care if 'm sensitive, wanna cum again for you!"

"Noo! Come back...mmph..mm...don't stop kissing me. Don't care- I'll move your hips for you, don't worry about Levi, just focus on me."

"You look so. fucking. good. bent over for me. Shh, don't listen to Belphie's bitching, he's getting fucked every time I slam my cock into you, so focus on me."

"Pull my hair. Yeah, like that- mm! Let me fuck you harder..please? He won't care, he can take it, I need to fuck you harder, Mc, please!"

"Quit hogging them! It's not fair!" "Is that all you ever say? It's not my fault you don't ask them to give you what you need. I do. So I'm going first." "H-hmph! Mc, Belphie's being mea- oh..oh your hand feels good..yeah stroke me like t-that.."

Other good mentions

Lucifer + Mammon; these two can communicate with just their eyes as well as the twins can, okay, they absolutely have your head spinning— and usually, the eldest is in charge of the whole thing but sometimes his favoritism shows and he lets Mammon take over. The favorite positions in this team are probably: each fucking you standing, from front and back; sucking one off while the other guides the pace; rough makeout session to see who gets to be in charge (and sometimes it’s you)

"It's been awhile, hasn't it, Mc? I can tell by the way you're already drooling for us...all dumb and pretty. All ours."

"Doin' such a good job, baby...uh-huh, bob your head a liiittle faster, like..this. Use your tongue too...hear the way he's moanin' for ya?"

"Don't make fun of me...is it so wrong that I want to feel your touch, too? I love the rake of your nails across my skin..indulge me, won't you?"

"I don't even care if 'm not in charge this time- just don't stop kissing me..haven't felt your lips on mine all day, please, fuck, don't ever stop kissing me."

"Well? What are you going to do now that you're in control this time, Mammon?" "Heh..overstimulate him, Mc. 'n don't stop until he's shooting blanks." "...what? Mc, don't you d-ah! Gr..damnit...fuck, it feels good.."

Mammon + Levi; they might act like it’s a big competition sometimes, but all they really care about is making you feel good, and when their energies are in sync, it’s crazy. The favorite positions of this team are probably: riding one while the other fucks you from behind; getting fucked while fucking the other, spreading your legs wide open so they can both give you oral

"Don't be such a fuckin' sore loser, Levi. Just put your mouth on 'em and shut up..we don't getta talk till their legs are shakin."

"C-can't handle when you s-stare at me like that..m-makes me feel all hot a-and bothered..especially w-when he keeps fucking you e-even closer."

"Can take it- promise I can take it! Don't stop fucking me, need it s'bad!"

"Hah! Look at him! He's practcially in tears from just one orgasm..h-huh? W-w-what are you doing- no, d-don't! You're..going too fast..a-ahhh..c-cumming! N-no..'m not crying..'m not!"

"What'd you say?!" "You heard me! You're not that dumb, are you?" "You little- Mc? Oh, no, we're sorry baby...no, no, we didn't mean to forget you, we'll make it up. Here..put that tail of yours to good use, Levi." "Yeah..okay..we're sorry, Mc. That feel good?"

Satan + Asmo; this pairing can be so softly sweet and so passionately intense, it should come with a whiplash warning (but are you really complaining?). The favorite positions for this pair are probably: laying down while one fucks you from each side, getting fucked while making out with the other, mutual masturbation and getting edged while edging them

"Ah, ah, ah...not yet, love, don't cum yet. It'll feel better if we wait, yeah? Hold it for me...just a little longer."

"You look so sexy, all disheveled like this! Gets me all hot and bothered every time! Hehe! ♡"

"Arch your back for me- just like that. Makes it go even deeper, doesn't it? Just. like. this. Ohh, fuck, make that sound for me again- 'm gonna cum."

"Stroke me faster, baby, please! Uh-huh, uh-huh...mm! Cumming! Yes, yes, yes!"

"Calm down, Asmo. Mc's had a tiring day..let's take it slow and make them feel better, hm?" "Ooh, you're absolutely right! We'll take care of you, hon, you won't even have to lift a finger!" "Relax, love...we've got you."

[toji-sweetheart]

I'm having

Thoughts

(or maybe I'm just a thot 🤭)

It's ovulation week and your men Toji and Shiu are going to town on you, trying to wear you out so all of you can sleep. They usually don't have any trouble satisfying you, it's usually one in each hole, cum thrice (on your part) and they're done.

But this week, you're still going strong riding on top of Toji and Shiu at your back thrusting into your ass. Neither could remember how many times you've all came, but they do know you're wearing down both of their (legendary) stamina. A look between them communicates lots and Shiu's reaching over to slip his phone out of his pants pocket and dial a number he never thought he would ever have to use. (Which had you whining because he had to slip out of you to do this, but he slipped himself right back in once he grabbed his phone.)

Shiu using one of his big hands to cover your mouth while the phone rings, both of them still thrusting into you. It would definitely be obvious to whomever is on the other line what was happening when they pick up.

"Well, well, well. Wasn't expecting you to be the one to call first." You could hear the smirk through the phone, but the voice didn't sound familiar to you. You didn't care who it was as long as your men didn't stop fucking you so deliciously.

"Listen, I'm only gonna say this once and this will be the only time I will ever offer it. You and your little six eyed freak, come to this address and help us take care of our girl. We all have a truce until she's satisfied." The line was quiet and you knew they could definitely hear the sounds of the slick through the line.

"Can't take care of your woman and have to call in backup, huh? That's pretty pathetic." Another cocky voice piped in. A moment of silence before they both answered from the other line.

"We're in." The line went dead You could see Toji smirk under you as he reached a hand up to bring you down by your neck to kiss him.

"Better prepare yourself pretty girl, you're about to have more dicks and orgasms than you can handle."

(Listen, maybe I'm just ovulating and I want a train ran on me by Toji, Shiu, Satoru and Suguru 🥵🫠 I'm sorry, I had to share.)

18+ only content - mdni

NEVER AND I MEAN NEVER EVER APOLOGIZE FOR SENDING ME THESE BECAUSE I AM OVULATING AS WELL JNN ALSO 6 EYED FREAK SENT ME LMAOOO I READ THIS IN PUBLIC TOO WITH MY LEGS CROSSED ALSO I KNOW I DON'T WRITE CANON JJK BUT WHAT IF THE READER WAS HIT BY A SEX POLLEN FROM A CURSED SPIRIT WHICH IS WHY SHE'S LIKE THIS?!

Neither man knew what to do at first when you still weren't satisfied after your fourth orgasm, the bedroom smelt like sweat and sex.

It was a mess where the three of you were connected, spit and cum mixed together creating a sticky substance. You whined when they even stopped for a fraction of a second and ground down on them.

When Shiu pulled out you almost cried, pouting with big wet puppy dog eyes feeling the loss of him, then he thrust back in covering your mouth but you didn't even care feeling full once more, a muffled thank you vibrating against his palm as you rode him and Toji.

Hearing Shiu talk on the phone as he was balls deep inside you made your pussy clamp around Toji making him groan as he palmed your tits knowing who his counterpart was talking to, they were going to give you more than you wanted or bargained for.

Suguru and Satoru could hear you whining for more, you needed it or you swore you were going to die, despite your muscles aching you felt like your pussy was going to explode if you didn't cum again.

Your head snapped back at Shiu who smirked rubbing your back. "Don't worry sweetheart, we're taking real good care of you."

There was no time to answer when Toji pulled you down for a heated messy kiss, his promise made your skin prickle with heat and your cunt to flutter around him with excitement at the prospect of it.

Toji and Shiu were tired, even though they didn't do a lot of work because you were taking what you needed anyway so they had hoped that four men could wear you down to sleep.

What you weren't expecting was Satoru and Suguru to show up twenty minutes, their eyes focused on you, sweaty and fucked out in between their co-workers. "Can't keep your woman happy?" Satoru purred coming to the side of the bed to pet your head gently.

"Shut the fuck up, and help or go home." Toji warned him, his cock felt raw and sensitive and he was certain neither him nor Shiu could cum again.

You looked at Satoru when your husbands pulled out making you gasp and quiver, pushing out a fat glob of pearly cum from both holes making an even bigger mess on the sheets. "Please! Please!"

All four men watched as you rolled to your back spreading your legs to rub your swollen clit feeling hot to the touch. It didn't take long for Satoru to take Toji's spot and Suguru to take Shiu's position.

They fucked you with slow deep strokes that made you cry out. "No coming in her, if you do I'll rip your dicks off," Toji told them as he and Shiu sat on the bed watching you ride two other men with no care in the world, your brain was too fried to think of anything else.

You really had no idea how long it lasted which was hours before Suguru and Satoru called it quits themselves unable to last any longer only to hear you cry that you need more.

Maybe it's time to call Sukuna in?

[crownmemes]

Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 25

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I'm starting to think you have a little too much time on your hands."

"You're becoming very annoying. Do you know that?"

"Kindly do not interrupt me."

"You can't play around! When you play around, people die!"

"You are not as charming as you think you are."

"I'm not sure what's gotten into you, but I don't think I like it."

"We could circle each other and growl, sleep with one eye open, but that thought wearies me."

"You're so used to playing God that you figure nothing's going to work without you!"

"You're loving this, aren't you?"

"Slow down! We've got to be practical about this!"

"Why am I just seeing this now?"

"I'm warning you; no more questions!"

"Does the joke always have to be at my expense?"

"Christ, you're like a walking cliché!"

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"When do you ever worry about doing something wrong?"

"Wipe that silly, smirking, little boy grin off your face!"

"If I get murdered in my sleep, I guess that's on you!"

"I don't care to have my secrets exposed to the world. Can you understand that?"

"Since when are you my boss?"

"If you don't see how this situation compromises us, then I really don't know what to say to you."

"You are the most exasperating woman I have ever met!"

"We're going to have to work on our communication."

"This must be what going mad feels like."

"I shall ignore that cheap jibe!"

"You are the most stubborn man I've ever met!"

"Tell me, were you always like this, or did it come on suddenly?"

"The next time you decide to stab me in the back, have the guts to do it to my face."

"Has everybody lost their mind?"

"There are two things I never forget: faces, and being fucked over!"

"I hate you!"

"Look at you! You're a mess!"

"Is all of that fresh-scrubbed earnestness just an act, or are you truly oblivious to the wreckage you leave in your wake?"

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello. I'm, um, not entirely sure how to talk about this. I hope it's okay if I misspeak. I'm a human, right, so I think that needs to be clear more than anything, but I've been very involved in the creature community for years now. I live by a great big lake and I always liked to walk down the shore late at night or early in the morning, you know, just to try and get out of my own head, and one night ages ago I accidentally tripped over someone's jacket and twisted my ankle. It was a gorgeous fur jacket, too, not like any kind of fur I'd seen in a jacket before, but just stunningly soft and thick as Hell.

Now, of course I didn't take it, that'd be awful, but also I had just hurt myself in kind of a nasty way and so it wasn't like I had anything else to do but sit by the shore next to the jacket and waited, and yeah, a few hours later one of the lake seals popped its head out of the water, looked at me for a good long while, and then...well, I mean, you know how the rest of the story goes, I'm sure.

Anyway, it's been a few years now and I've become really close to this family. I didn't really know anyone in my town before meeting them and I'm not on speaking terms with my own folks, so in a lot of ways these people have become my family, and it's an honor that they trust me to keep guard of their cloaks and such when they go out. But I've got this problem, right, and it's just...over the years it's felt less and less like I fit in with other humans. All my friends are nightfolk now, my family hates me even more because they're bigots--in this night and age, can you fucking believe it--and it's just like every night I get further and further away from the shore.

I'm just scared because...I don't *want* to stop drifting away. I've had dreams of joining them down there in the lake, practically every night for months on end. I've tried doing research into methods of joining the community but I don't want to become a vampire, I don't fancy any lunar-aligned nonsense, nothing has felt right except selkies, but I can't decide if I'm just self aware enough that I need a push from an outside viewer to try and accept something I already know full well...or if no, actually, that little voice in my stupid head that won't go away that keeps calling me a fraud, an invader, an appropriator--what if the reason it's not going away is because it's right and I really don't belong?

Just...please be honest with me. Am I a complete asshole for spending hours every day trying not to just outright beg my family--sorry, chosen family--to help me sew myself a cloak, or is there something to this?

First of all, reader, please rest assured. As long as you are speaking from a place of kindness and a willingness to learn, you don't need to worry about using all the correct terminology. I always try to listen generously when people come to me in need, and I encourage our followers to do the same.

Unfortunately I can well believe that bigots like your biological relatives still exist. I'm glad you've been able to extract yourself from their hateful society, and have found comfort, support and kinship among the nightfolk.

You say there is a little voice in your head calling you a fraud, casting doubt on the validity of your feelings. As much as you might want to push it away and stop your ears, I want you to listen to that voice, just for a little while. Pay attention to the language it uses and what ideas it seems to have about the world.

And then ask yourself: is this my voice? Does that sound like me? Or does this sound like a last, desperate, wriggling remnant of the people I've worked so hard to distance myself from?

Every one of us is raised with a narrative, a story about the world and our place in it, and how we should treat the people around us. We're told that story by our parents, by our teachers and schoolmates, by television and books and a million other sources. The story is so vast and so all-encompassing, it takes an enormous effort to be able to see any single part of it clearly.

Imagine, then, how hard we have to work to realise some of that story is untrue, or harmful, fed by hatred and fear. To start untangling ourselves from the rotting, strangling roots of the story we've known all our lives, and start planting something new and fresh and honest.

It sounds to me like this little voice is one of those lingering strands of the story you were raised with – one where liminality is nothing to admire or strive for, and where you cannot be trusted to know your own mind, and your own needs. It's time to tell yourself a better story.

You've found people who honour you with their trust and who make you feel supported and loved, as you deserve. You admire them, and want to be like them. None of this sounds “stupid” to me.

This is not a decision to be taken lightly. By all means, take your time, and talk your feelings through with your family. But I think you already know what story you want for yourself, reader – and for what it's worth, I think the world will be better for its telling.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[anonymous-rendezvous]

Relationship & NSFW Dynamics —

✨ Noctyx Edition ✨

First (1st), we want to re-emphasize that we are writing for the characters. Second (2nd), this is merely our opinion and how we write them.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

🔗 Sonny 🔗

Pet Names: Babe [More often than not, just calls you by name]

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

The Noctyx's boy with the least amount of past trauma. He's just "VSF!! 💥 💥 💥"

This mans way too busy kicking down doors to be worrying about relationships. Like, Sonny, finding his way into a relationship is completely accidental. In the beginning, he just thinks you are really interesting, and the more time you spend together he starts to find you really attractive and then uh-oh someone’s caught feelings.

He was in so much denial at the beginning of your relationship. Once he's over that, however, be prepared to be sucker punched by random bouts of sweetness. And the fucking duality of this man. You will have whiplash from how sudden he can go from being rough and serious to sweet and silly.

Also, be prepared to be worried 90% of the time because of his job as a police officer with his damn obsession of rushing in and busting doors down.

[[NSFW under the cut!!]]

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch (Dom leaning)

So it's pretty obvious why Dom-leaning but… Switch. Listen, he gives as much as he takes. Like, he's incredibly kind and caring, but also he's a masochist. And a bit of a sadist??? Again: switch. Could see rough play being one of his interests. He likes the idea of you – consensually – taking control of him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🔮 Uki 🔮

Pet Names: Starlight, Stardust, Babe/Baby, and the occasional Honey

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

Okay, now not to be a broken record but, once again: we're talking about the characters.

The man's lore is sad™. He's been through some pretty traumatizing stuff, and as a result, we feel like he's not really all that horny most of the time. Also, it's kinda hard to think about romance when you grew up living in survival mode.

He needs someone who will be understanding and patient with him. He’ll also need space at times, but he’s good at communicating that, so if he doesn’t bring it up — get ready to cuddle the fuck up. Most of all, just love him. Pamper him, comfort him, love him. He deserves the world.

And if you don't treat him right? Be prepared to have the Uki protection squad after your ass.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch (Sub leaning)

Now once he's comfortable with you? That changes things. He'd likely be more open to trying new things, and boy, would his mouth start to run. Overall, just take care of him. Pamper him some more. He deserves it, okay? 🥺He is still a switch, though. And if he finds you cute? Prepare yourself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🎭 Alban 🎭

Pet Names: Sunshine, Babe/Baby, Honey, Sweetheart, & Little Cat

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

Another sad boi 😞 Similar to Uki: it's kinda hard to think about romance when you grew up living in survival mode.

Sadly, this man has trust issues. He has a hard time opening up because he doesn't want to hurt anyone or get hurt. He already lost one dear friend, he doesn’t want to risk losing more people. 

It'll take some time to work through those feelings, but once he does, y'all are fuckin golden. Alban's very doting and extremely caring. He's like a prince without the royalty aspect. He'll be opening doors for you, carrying your stuff- carrying you.

Also, side note? Please tell him to stop stealing expensive gifts for you. Sonny can only let it slide for so long.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch | Soft Dom

Pure switch right here, baby 🤌

The most bullyable bottom and the softest of Dom's. Could see him having an interest in primal play. Basically playing games of cat and mouse with you. Who's the hunter would likely depend on what kind of mood he's in honestly. He'd never admit it, but he kinda likes it when you take control from him (in a consensual way of course.). Honestly, too? This guy just goes through random bouts of horniness just by looking at you.

Similarly, to some of the other boys, if you ask him to try something new, he'd be pretty open to it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🐑 Fulgur 🐑

Pet Names: Babe, Little One/Little Lamb (Legatus), Dear, & Sweetie (Archivist)

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

First things first, we need to make it clear that we typically write a combination of Legatus and Archivist [typically a little more Archivist leaning].

However, it doesn't matter if we're following Legatus lore or Archivist lore; this man has too much shit happening around him, and to him, to be worrying about relationships. But hey, that's alright! He's been sent to the past, so fuck all that! Now he can get rid of all that pent-up anger! :D

In the beginning, you'll get more of the Legatus personality. He'll come off as cold and aloof. It'll take a bit, but as long as you don't give up, you will crack through that hardened exterior. Once you're in the relationship, Archivists' personality shines. Incredibly caring and comforting. He's an old soul.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch (Dom leaning)

Now, the juicy stuff.

This man will. Fuck. You. Up. He can either be extremely soft or really rough and there's no in-between. Dirty talk and degradation galore during rough play, but only the sweetest praise when he's soft. Sensory play is probably a really big thing for him (both giving and reviving).

Side note; when he's on the reviving end, make sure he keeps his hands on that bed frame. The last thing y'all need is him accidentally breaking any of your bones.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🎧 Yugo 🎧

Pet Names: Angle, Muse, Babe, Sweetheart, (My) Doll [But only adds the "my" when he doesn't like they way someones looking at you]

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

4 outta 5, another sad boi less gooo 😂

The only member of this group who at least has some type of experience. Kinda hard to date tho when you're leading a resistance. Honestly, though, this boy is the most straightforward of the five.

First off, this smooth mother fucker. He's very confident in his ability to woo. Be prepared to be rizzed to hell and back. Yugo’s very physical in his affection; he’s a pretty big fan of PDA. More often than not, you’ll find his arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist. Yugo prefers to give personalized gifts.

He's a people person. Man was both a DJ and leader of a revolution, after all. You cannot hide your emotions from him. He can and will read you like a damn book.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Dom

He knows you're horny before you know you're horny.

Pure 👏 Dom 👏 Energy 👏. Try to argue with the clapping hand. You can't. Good luck trying to Top this man. It'll be a real struggle. The only time you're on top is when he's literally too exhausted to move.

Also, hope you don't mind getting it on in public places. Has one VIP booth in his club constantly reserved for the two of you. And don't worry, he'll make sure you're never caught.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Btw if you guys are interested in seeing a post just dedicated to scenarios with some of the kinks we think the bois have, then this post needs to hit at least 300 notes. Hope you enjoyed~

-Mod I ✨ & Mod S 👿

P.S. Want a say in what we write more of? Please answer this form!

[luveline]

OK THE STEVE ZOMBIE AU BUT HE DOES FINALLY MIRACULOUSLY FIND ROBIN OR MAYBE DUSTIN OR LITERALLY ANYONE FAMILIAR. Our girl is happy but also like 👀 u finna ditch me now?

theres literally no zombies in this lmao </3 apocalypse au with new (but not really) boyfriend steve wherein you reunite with some old friends and find a community (and worry steve is gonna break up w u) fem!reader 7k words

The border between Indiana and Michigan is quiet. Nothing denotes its location besides a Welcome to Indiana sign. 

Steve's hand tightens around yours. You stand there for minutes, wind breezing past your tired bodies and ruffling his limp hair. 

"Do you think this is our last time seeing Indiana?" you ask quietly. 

There's no need to shout. The town surrounding the border is abandoned. 

He drops your hand. You miss his touch and the soothing effect it gives to hold it immediately. 

"Maybe," he says. "Does that bother you?" 

It fucking scares you. Staying there wasn't really an option anymore, not with the infestation of geeks dribbling away from Indianapolis or the lack of food. And besides that, you'd wanted to get to Michigan badly. Steve and his friend Robin had been planning to come here together before their untimely separation. Half of Hawkins had been aiming for Michigan after the news broke all those months ago — Illinois, Ohio, and Kentucky overrun by flesh-eating monsters. 

But if you leave Indiana, you're admitting it's a lost cause. That the lives you led there are gone, candles snuffed out by a sudden ripping gale. 

"I just…" You look over your shoulder at Michigan. "Can't believe we're here." 

"I think I'm glad we're here." 

You cock your head toward him. 

"Not just to find Robin," he clarifies. "But, no offence? Indiana was kicking your ass." 

You grimace at his implication. Indiana was kicking your ass. You've rolled your ankle more times than you can count. You'd fallen ten feet through the floor and given yourself a major concussion. You've been snarled at, robbed at knifepoint, and almost eaten. 

"Fucking Indiana," you say. 

"Fuck Indiana." He turns on his heel, but not before he's wrapped a hand around your arm to drag you with him. "Michigan better be nice to my girl, or we're going to Canada." 

You've already let him walk you a couple of feet when you have the bearings to splutter, "Your girl?" 

He ignores you, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips. You’re pretty confident in being his girlfriend, but something about being ‘his girl’ makes your head rush.

You'd found a gun a little ways back but no ammunition for it. It's a good prop regardless, so Steve keeps it in hand stuffed into the pocket of his windbreaker ready to scare off anyone with enough wits to find guns scary. You're sitting ducks otherwise, armed with one small penknife and the metal baseball bat that Steve keeps in the strap of his rucksack, so you stick to the side roads. Being out in the open is risky. You're used to this mode of living, adept at slinking and skulking in dimly dark places. 

"Steve?" you ask, a murmur in the ringing quiet. Cicadas chirp in the trees, leaves rustling with each burst of wind. 

"Yeah?" he asks shortly, distracted by the door in front of him. 

He's attempting to pick the lock of a convenience store's sidedoor. You're standing guard.

"Where do you think Robin is?" 

He doesn't answer for a while. He works a delicate job, the slim pick in his hand creaking formidably with every wrong move. He's too forceful, and you're the better locksmith, but your wrist still twinges from your fall in the woods a few days ago. Steve's too protective for his own good. 

"I don't know. But she's smart, and-" He hisses, hair falling into his eyes. "I'm hoping she's still here." 

"If I were her, I'd wait for you." 

He tips his head back to meet your eyes. "If you ever stay somewhere dangerous waiting for me, I'll fist fight you." 

Usually you'd burst into laughter at his familiar abrupt absurdity — you've grown to adore his jokes now that you know there's no real malice behind them — but you want him to hear what you're saying. You want to know if he'd do the same. 

"I would," you say softly. 

The lock clicks open. 

Steve grins at you. "You won't need to. You're stuck with me like glue." 

Inside of the store is a sorry sight. While the shutters had been down, a good sign, the interior is much less promising. Sunshine filters in through the smallest cracks, casting a scarce light over what's left of the aisles. Two are crushed to one side as if a huge hand has swept them away. Smashed booze bottles litter the floor. Glass like snow crunches underfoot, and a sticky sour smell is heavy in the air. 

You ease into the room on pins. 

"There's gotta be something," Steve says, pulling his pocket-sized torch out to give you a better view. 

Where the shelves have collapsed, there's a small tunnel to the front of the room. You bend down to assess it. 

"I think there's cookies over there." 

"Where?" Steve demands. You point to aforementioned treats.

He army crawls through the gap and pops out on the other side. Those few seconds where you can't see him are unsettling, and from the speed with which he looks at you, he may have felt the same. 

"Keep an eye out," he says. 

You turn to the door. You've closed it tight but it won't lock without a key, and anyone might assume what you have and come inside. 

Steve hisses an excited, "Yes!" 

"How'm I s'posed to keep watch when you're doing that?" 

"Babe, there's fucking Chips Ahoy." He loves them.

"I'm sick of Chips Ahoy," you mumble to yourself. "I miss carrots. And potatoes. I miss pasta. Pasta." 

"Should I be jealous?" 

"Definitely. I'd trade you for a full, home-cooked meal any day, handsome. Fresh made pasta, sun dried tomatoes. Garlic bread." You could cry thinking about it, all those rich flavours together. 

"Call me crazy, but I think we could make you some pasta. Look-" He holds up a small jar. "Crushed garlic." 

You brighten. "Where'd you find that?" 

Garlic is a great flavour to make literally anything taste better, like all the canned stuff people don't always take: artichoke hearts, asparagus, aubergine. 

"Holy shit, score.” Steve holds another tin up, torch held between his chest and his upper arm. 

Your eyes turn round as saucers. 

That night, you decide to stay in the convenience store. You'll be cornered if somebody tries to get in, but you'll be safe from geeks and the elements. Two out of three isn't bad. 

You and Steve share the only fork, chowing down on his amazing find of tinned vegetable soup and dumplings. It barely registers in your head that it's cold, it's so nice to be eating something that isn't spaghettios. You could've built a fire outside to warm it if you weren't scared of being spotted by scroungers. Or worse, cannibals. 

"Maybe we should go outside. Look for smoke," you say. Smoke means people.

"Good idea.” He urges you to take what's left of the soup, stands, and kisses the top of your head as he does.

You're pretty sure there's bliss like the light of a star radiating off of your skin, elated at his easy affection. You're almost as happy to get to finish the soup. 

While he's gone, you open your bag and scrounge for what little self-care you have. Toothpaste is abundant in every store no matter how looted, as is soap, but soap needs water, and you're running low. You brush your teeth with toothpaste alone and use a little bit of water on a rag to wipe the oil off of your face, guilty and thankful at once. If you don't wash yourself when you can, you'll go crazy. 

You apply another layer of roll on old spice and hope it'll hold out until you can find another lake, river, or tributary, which shouldn't be impossible. Michigan is surrounded by water, a fact that had put you off coming here at first. 

You go where Steve goes, though, so Michigan it had been, and Michigan it is. 

Your first night’s already proved fruitful. There's more than enough food here if you're willing to get weird (and you and Steve usually are). More food than you could carry. 

Which is a little suspicious, now that you think about it. 

Nobody thought to look here? 

Is there anybody to look? 

You push all your stuff aside and scramble onto your knees, suddenly paranoid. Steve's taking too long, what if this place is a trap? A honeytrap to lure in mindless ants. What if they've already grabbed him, and– 

"Oh, Jesus," Steve says as he opens the door, voice uber loud in the night time stillness. "You scared me. What's the matter, need to pee?" 

"I thought somebody kidnapped you," you say, trying for joking and missing by a mile. 

Steve leans against the door. He's regained his controlled volume and demeanour, "Safe and sound. I'm serious, do you need to pee?" 

You and Steve pad out your corner of the store against the pilfered chip aisle. He lets you use his chest as a pillow, and when he turns off the torch there's nothing to do but listen to his breathing and feel his chest move under your ear. 

You rub his sternum with the heel of your hand. "You could use me as a pillow sometime. If you wanted to." 

"Yeah? You're softer than me, I think I'd love that." 

You draw a short line to his navel, thinking. Lucky to have found him. Lucky to like him this much, and lucky that he likes you. You're 'his girl', and you get to sleep on his chest and sometimes when he's not worrying himself to the bone he'll tell you secrets. You know him better than you’ve ever known anybody.

He curls his arm around your shoulder and takes your upper arm into his hand, the heat from his fingers seeping into your skin. You've taken off your coat because it's uncomfortable. Steve will fold it over your chest when you fall asleep. 

"It was a good day, right?" He sounds terrified of jinxing it. 

You kiss his chest, or his t-shirt, so lightly he likely doesn't feel it. A kiss for your sake rather than his. "It was a good day." 

He holds you close. His heart thrums in your head. 

"Floor's like a fucking ice cube," he mutters. 

You cover as much of him as you can with your arms, sleep tugging at your eyelids. "I'll keep you warm," you promise as they close. "Wake me up when you get too tired." 

"Alright." He massages your arm in his hand gently, and you fall asleep. 

—

Steve flinches awake at the whisper of a sound outside. A younger Steve, one who'd known nothing about geeks, or people, really, how awful they can be, wouldn't have woken. Hell, Steve could've slept through a hurricane when he was in high school, all those years where he'd stayed up too late playing hooky and smoking Malboro's behind the Big Buy. He looks back now and wonders how much sleep he missed out on in his king-sized mattress, up to his eyeballs in cushy sheets and fresh linens. Why had sleeping felt like such a chore? 

And after that, when he and Robin would stay up watching shitty movies and eating the free stale popcorn from the video store. Though he wouldn't trade any of that away. 

Fucking idiot, he thinks to himself scathingly. He was not supposed to fall asleep. He checks you over quickly. In your sleep you've slid off of his chest and onto the tarp next to him, but you’re unharmed.

He sits up and scrambles for his penknife. Weak dusk light breaks through the store's shutters, dust motes disturbed by his movements diving between rays of light like lightning bugs. His joints click with the force and speed with which he springs up to protect you. 

What sound was that? It had come as loud as a crack of thunder, but could've been something small, a squirrel over a tree branch. 

He should wake you up. If it's one person, even two, you could help him. But if it's more, and they find you… 

He shoulders open the door and walks out into the morning light. 

— 

You wake to hands on your shoulders. 

You're scared instantly. Steve usually wakes you reluctantly, a shake and a whispered, "Up," or, "Up, baby," if he's especially tired. 

"It's me," he says, his voice burning with something you haven't ever heard before. "It's me. Time to wake up." 

You peel your eyes open, horrified at the sight above you. Steve face hovers over your own with his hair tucked behind his ears and a blazing smile, daylight behind him haloing him in gold. 

"You didn't wake me." You bring clumsy hands to his rough cheeks. "Why didn't you wake me? You look so tired." 

He looks electrified, the bags under his eyes no match for his smile. You can feel it as he leans down, as he plants a kiss firmly to your unsuspecting mouth. He kisses you all over, a joyous chuckle bubbling out between them. 

You laugh yourself, tickled as his stubble scratches your cheeks, your neck as he works his way down. 

"There's- There's people," he says. "My people. Fucking Robin-" 

"What?" 

You're a half inch from headbutting him unconscious. Luckily he's already veering upward, stuffing what you'd left on the ground back into your packs. 

"I haven't seen her yet, but there's this other girl we went to school with, Darcy Mulligan, and she said this is an outpost, right? They keep all this shit here for people who need it, and then they watch to see if you're dangerous-" 

"They were watching us?" 

He plows onward, ignoring you, "And they saw us and I went out thinking they were gonna shoot me but-" 

"Steve, we can't go with these people." 

His smile fades a little. "No, we aren't. I told them already, we aren't that stupid. But," — he grabs your arm — "they said they're gonna bring Robin." 

You don't want to keep fighting him. To shoot down this newfound hope, this lightness you've never seen him shine with before, feels cruel. But you don't want him to get ahead of himself. 

"What if they're bringing back reinforcements?" 

He swallows and nods, reassuring your conjectures. "Right, I thought that too, but- I don't know, baby, Darcy was with a guy, and they both had guns. They could've shot me. 'N' if they were empty, the guy could've just knocked me over the head with it, you know?" He crawls impossibly closer than he'd been, hands rubbing your arm unthinking. "I think this is real." 

I want it to be real goes unsaid. 

You're ashamed that you can't find any excitement to wear with him. Dread licks over your skin as you smile at him, as you cup his cheek in your hand, and as you stand up to help him pack away his things. You feel like you're going to your death. 

Steve can read you well. He grabs your shoulders. You're selfishly hoping he'll say you can run. He doesn't. "You trust me?" he asks. 

You deflate, shoulders falling. "Of course I do." 

"Thank you." He tries to pull you in for a hug but you're reeling, distracted, he has to persuade you, and he does so sweetly. "Hey, c'mere, come on." He pulls at you. "Come here." 

You flop into his chest with all the grace of a shored fish, arms limp. He smells like sweat which probably means you do too, but he smells like himself, and that's what's important. 

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you." 

"What about you?" 

"If Robin's here, I have to take the risk. She's my best friend." 

You understand that. You'd never ask him not to do this, because you'd do it for him. If you'd ever gotten separated, you'd spend months looking for him. Years, maybe. He's the only person left. 

You have no clue if he'd do the same for you.

He scrubs at your back roughly. Such a boyish kind of hug. 

"You have your knife?" he asks. 

You have it. Rather than let them corner you in here, you both make your way out into the woods. Steve shows you the short path he'd taken to find Darcy Mulligan and the man she'd been with, evidence of their stakeout left in the embers of a small fire. You stand frozen with a tree trunk to your back and Steve stations himself in front of you, pack secured on your back. Steve has his baseball bat in hand. What good will it serve against a possible group of gunmen? You start to panic, really panic, and you're a hair's width from begging him to run with you when his grip on the bat falters. 

"Fuck," he says softly. 

Three people turn the corner; a dark haired girl with twin pigtails and a rifle hanging at her side; a boy, presumably the man Steve had mentioned; and a shorter girl with light brown hair, her expression — her entire body — lit with happiness, elation, and her laugh loud enough to prove it. 

"Holy shit," Steve says. 

You forget to be scared. You forget to worry. Steve lets the baseball bat drop out of his hand, and then he's taking three weak steps forward to meet her, and that's it, it's her, Robin throws her arms around his neck and nearly barrels him to the ground. His hands come up to meet her. He's shaking so hard you're surprised he can grip her waist, his face crushed to the side of her head. 

Tears well in your eyes. To get to see this, so soon, when you'd thought maybe Steve might never see his best friend ever again, is a blessing. It's a fucking miracle. 

Your tears bite back when the boy moves forward and hugs him too. 

You tighten your grip on your knife and pull it from your pocket, confused and alarmed that Steve's about to get gutted, but Steve starts to shake worse. 

It takes you a second to realise he's crying. 

"Henderson," he says. 

Oh. It's Dustin. You've heard enough stories about him to know it. He has the same curly hair, and while he's taller than you'd thought, Steve had only ever talked about one Henderson. 

Steve's relief is a knot in your throat. You wipe your cheek quickly with the back of your hand and shove the knife into your pocket. 

Over their heads, the dark haired girl narrows her eyes at you. 

"I can't believe you're here," Steve says, voice raspy with emotion. 

You have never heard him cry. 

"Where have you been, Steve?" Robin asks hoarsely. 

You take a step toward him without thinking, and he hears it despite everything and looks up at you with a teary-eyed smile. 

"We got lost," he says, holding your gaze. 

"Lost? It's been months. We thought you were zombie mulch, you shithead." 

"I'm here, aren't I?" He rolls his eyes at you, like he's saying Get a load of this guy? 

It's a reassuring gesture even if he doesn't mean for it to be. You're still a team. 

"Hi," Robin says, her hands clasped in Steve's shirt, but her attention fully yours. "I'm Robin." 

You don't have a chance to introduce yourself. Steve does it for you, and he says, "She's my girl. Saved me this entire time." 

What the fuck does that mean?

Robin looks at you again. "No fucking way." 

"Only took an apocalypse for Steve to get a girlfriend," Dustin says. 

There's something about their playful arguing that makes you want to cry again. It's the relief they've padded it with. You can imagine how brilliant it must feel to make fun of somebody you'd thought long dead. 

"Don't worry, Y/N," Robin says gravely, "there are tons of dudes at camp. You have options." 

Steve steps on her foot. 

"We should head back," Darcy says shortly. 

On the walk, Steve feels very far away. He keeps looking at you to check you're there, but his thoughts are months ago, recounting the details of your survival to his friends in short. You and Steve had been together since basically the very start when you'd saved him from a horde, and he tells that with pride. So much so you feel heat blooming behind your neck and at the tips of your ears. 

"We fucking floored to to the meeting point but you guys weren't there-" 

"Sorry-" 

"No, it's okay," he says. "I get it. It was rough." All of you shiver at the memory. Hawkins had been hit hard, a close knit town with nowhere to hide.

"No we- we should’ve fucking waited- I begged them to wait," Robin says. 

"Who did you get out with?" 

And there's the list of survivors. It's short. The amount of orphaned kids is extremely depressing, and for a while there's silence. All those people. Dustin's mom, Robin's dad. 

"Hopper's here, though," Dustin adds after a while.

"That explains why you're still alive." 

"Actually, dickhead, we're alive because I'm awesome. The radio-" 

"How many people are there?" Steve interrupts. 

"It's a whole new world, Harrington." 

It's better. 

You turn onto what looks like an old college campus and suddenly, there's people. So many people you walk backward and almost tumblr off of the curb, because fuck. There's noise, and smells, and sounds. There are little kids running around in a closed off area of the quad, laughing and chasing after one another. There are guns on guards patrolling makeshift walls. 

Your ears start ringing. 

"Think your girlfriend's gonna pass out," Darcy says. 

You're the last one to figure out she's talking about you. 

"Oh, hey. Hey," Steve says, stepping toward you. 

You take another step back. 

"Baby," he says softly. 

"There's people here." 

"So many new boyfriend's to choose from," he jokes. He's tentative, but he offers his hand like he knows you'll take it. "Come on. I promise I won't get jealous when you run off with somebody cooler." 

"I don't want somebody cooler," you say. 

"Okay, awesome, 'cause I was lying. I'd be super jealous. I'd feed myself to the geeks." 

"Don't say that." 

He grins at you, hand hovering in the gap between your bodies unwavering. Trust me, it says. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. 

You take Steve's hand. 

—

The world is more than you and Steve against it. There are people to answer to. 

Chief Hopper actually recognises you when he sees you. He recognises Steve first, and he gives him a pat on the back. You aren't expecting any hellos, figuring you're barely a memory to him, but Hopper smiles at you like you've just told him you have the antidote for zombification in your rucksack. 

"It's good to see you, kid."

That night, in the dining hall, you get a small welcome between shift announcements. Hundreds of heads turn your way, and while some house cagey unsurety, the majority are happy to see you. 

You sit with Steve and his friends (plural, a growing number, because nearly all of them are here), torn between stopping him from crying his eyes out with happy tears and listening to the older woman sitting beside you. Her name is Mallory, and she offers a generous gift. 

"You have any questions at all, sweetpea, and you can come to me. Or if you just wanna talk, my shoulder's right here." She pats it for emphasis. 

"Thank you so much." But, you want to say, I have Steve.

"Young love, and in a time like this." Mallory's smile is genuine, if a little haunted. "It's amazing." 

You indulge her, turning from Steve just slightly. "But?" 

She brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. It's three colours, a faded red at the middle, a mix of grey and brown at the top. "Listen, I have some unsolicited advice for you hon, but I'm not trying to offend you when you just got here." 

You shake your head. "No," you say hurriedly, "of course not. I wouldn't think that." 

She digs around in her pocket and opens her hand covertly under the table. When you look at it, she hisses. "No, don't. Keep your eyes up." 

You right your gaze accordingly. The canteen is simply that — the college's canteen. Every night there's something cooking, and every morning if they can afford it. Although you'd been told some people eat at home, most people come here, because this is the only place with a reliable generator. From where you're sitting, you can see everybody, and you suspect Steve had chosen this vantage point on purpose. 

Hopper stands at the front of the room behind another man, who's moved from the important stuff and is now lamenting at the book club's low attendance. They have a fucking book club. You can't believe it. 

Mallory drops something into your hand. A hard-boiled candy.

"My advice," she says, the two of you watching as Hopper and the second man confer, "is to try and be in both worlds at once." 

"You've lost me." 

"That's not a good sign, I've barely started," she jokes, laughing so much that the men sitting across from you laugh too. She carries on, "What I mean is, this isn't home. It probably never will be. We fight so hard to make it home, we plant trees, 'n' we sleep warm every night, but…" She squeezes your shoulder amicably, a light, quick touch. "I know how it felt when I got here. Me and my husband, we kept to ourselves. And we were right to, not everybody here can be good. But when he died, I had nobody." 

You let your eyes drop to you plate, a small portion of a soup that's not the best and a sandwich that's marginally better. You get what Mallory's trying to say — don't put your eggs all in one basket, not when the basket might get mauled to death any day coming. 

You get what she's trying to say. You don't appreciate it. 

"Thank you," you say weakly. 

She nods, and Steve saves you from anymore conversation with an arm hooked through yours. 

“You okay?” he asks. Unmistakably fond. 

You can feel the eyes of all of his friends. All these people you knew too, or knew of, and should be happy to see. You should be so fucking happy right now. 

So why aren’t you?

You turn your face to his and take him in. He’s got a red rash of skin over the top of his head from prolonged sunburn and a scar under his left eye from a cruel tree branch. He looks different than the Steve you’d met at school, and he looks different still from the Steve you’d saved on day 1. 

But he’s your Steve. 

You drop your forehead into his neck, love like a warm blanket encapsulating you when he presses a kiss against your forehead. 

“I know,” he says, moving back, forcing you to sit up again. “It’s crazy.”

You return his smile, though you aren’t sure you're on the same page. 

—

Little Hawkins makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry. It’s a floor of rooms in the campus dormitories, and Robin shares with a couple of other people your age. She only has a mattress and her things on the ground in one room, but soon Steve and another guy are dragging another mattress from across campus while you watch. 

"No offence," Steve says, "but I'm trying to spoil you right now. Can you stop pouting? I'm giving you a breather." 

"I don't believe you." 

He and the unnamed man lean the mattress up outside of Robin's door. 

"Well," he says warmly, and you're starting to feel lovesick with how sweet he's being, nearly enough to forget how scared you are, "maybe you should try." 

Steve is nice. He's always been nice, ever since you met him, even if that nice was strapped down and buried under one layer of derision, one layer of sarcasm, and another layer of sternness for prosperity. But this is another level. Ever since he woke you up he's been ridiculous (he's been the kind of affectionate you've secretly ached for). Steve's sparing with affection but you wouldn't ever complain — can you expect him to play doting boyfriend when each day he's hardwired and on the fritz trying to make sure you both don't die agonising, gross deaths? 

This is fucking crazy, though. 

Steve pulls you bodily by the waist into his front and talks into the highest point of your cheek, words muffled by your skin, "When was the last time we slept on a mattress? Gotta be months ago," — you lean into him entirely, he takes your weight with zero qualms — "when we were in that house by the lake with all the soaps." 

"So many soaps," you murmur, melted by his closeness. 

He laughs. He giggles, all boyish and pretty and you can't help yourself, you lift your chin, practically begging for a kiss. 

You get a short one. Steve's too busy laughing. "And the canned pickles. I know they were, like, doomsdayers, but what did we count, like-" 

"Fifty seven-" 

"Fifty seven jars of pickles," he finishes. 

If this is what Steve is like here, you can make the trade. You don't trust anybody that isn't him, and it feels like you're surrounded by people who could easily hurt you, but his easy joy right now is contagious. 

Robin's voice comes loud from inside her room. "Hey, lovebirds! Are you coming in? They turn all the lights off in like, twenty minutes." 

It's obvious how much Steve trusts Robin. You get the mattress in her room through a series of squeezing and hoping, and she shows you her fancy little sink with running water, nothing short of pride in her eyes. 

"It's freezing," she says, "but you can wash up." 

It genuinely doesn't bother you that it's cold, emotionally. Physically you get the jitters, and it's worth it because Steve pities you and wraps you up tight to rub your arms. He and Robin talk a lot, so much that your brain has given up on listening. It's not something you're happy to hear anyhow, your perilous journey. Steve is generous on your account, leaving out all your most embarrassing moments. 

You sit on the end of the mattress and wonder if you can take your shoes off. 

"Robin?" you ask. 

Both turn to look at you, surprised. 

"Yeah?" 

"Does the door lock?"

She brings her legs up to her chest, chin on her knees. "There's no deadbolt, but you need a key to open it from the outside. So kind of?" She watches you for a moment, and then she nods towards the desk covered in books. "I used to put the chair under the handle when I first got here. You can do that, if you're worried." 

You nod uselessly and get up to do just that. 

"Thanks, Robs," Steve says. 

"Yep." She flops into a ball on her side and pulls the blankets up and over her face. "Goodnight, then." 

Steve laughs and steps over your legs so he can get to her. "Robin," he says, pulling the blankets down. "I- I really missed you." 

She holds out her arms and they hug. She pats his back. "Missed being a pain in my neck, maybe," she mutters. He pushes away from her in mock disgusts and they smile, a shared smile that douses you in an unfair jealousy. You shrug it off pretty quickly when he sits down on the mattress beside you, looking content and, shockingly, really tired. 

He encourages you up to the top of the mattress beside him and folds up the blanket from the rucksack for you as a pillow, sliding it under your head. When he seems confident that you're comfortable he blows out the candle burning on Robin's desk. 

This part's easy, you and Steve in the dark. You're practised in the art of moving around one another. 

Your heart pounds in your ears as Steve pulls a heavy blanket over the both of you, his arm strewn across your stomach haphazardly. 

"Are you okay?" he whispers. 

You turn your face to his though you can't see it. "Of course I am. Are you okay?" 

"I know this is weird." 

Weird doesn't feel like the right word. Surreal, maybe. Something out of a dream. 

"I think my back aches more on the mattress, I'm so used to twisting myself into knots between your legs." 

He snorts. "That doesn't sound right." 

You cover his arm with your hand. "Pig." 

"You can lie on my chest, if you want." 

"Think it's your turn to use me as cushioning." Your voice is coloured by your smile. 

He exhales into your shoulder. 

"Mm. This is nice," he murmurs. 

"You want me to take the first shift?" 

"I don't think we need shifts." 

You can't agree. Steve trusts Robin and you trust Steve, but you do not trust Robin. She seems lovely, and through Steve's stories you know she's a good person, but he hasn't seen her in a year. She could be anybody, and she's locked into a room with you.

You don't mean to be deceitful. "Alright," you utter, "no shifts." 

"You smell nice," Steve says. His lips move against your skin, and he lifts his head enough to kiss your jaw, three kisses in succession. "Goodnight, honey." 

You raise your hand to his head. "Goodnight." 

He falls asleep to you carding through his hair. Even when you're sure he's dead to the world you keep going, the feeling of it between your fingers calming. 

You don't sleep a wink. 

—

It becomes a mantra. Steve is happy here. Over and over and over. 

You're happy too by consequence; Steve is a new person, still the man you know but with this emanating happiness rolling off of him in waves. 

Chief Hopper has promised to get you and Steve a place together if you want one. This had scared you half to death, because you want one bad, but you'd been expecting a little resistance from Steve (or, admittedly, a lot). Because… 

You're starting to think maybe you aren't scared of the people here. You trust Hopper to run a community that's safe if he says it is, and as the days stretch into a week, two weeks, you start to feel secure. Steve's never far, but that's the terrifying part. 

You're worried Steve is going to leave you. 

It sounds dramatic. It is dramatic. But you're scared shirtless that Steve is going to wake up and realise he doesn't owe you a thing, that he doesn't harbour the affection for you that he thinks he does. You're worried that Steve had gone soft on you because you'd been there, like a habit. 

Your feelings for him only grow, despite this. He's fucking handsome when he's clean-shaven, clean in general. Somebody's mom gives him a haircut and you can't believe it, because he's always been good looking but you can tell he's more confident like this, and the confidence makes him golden. 

He's also super handsy. 

You love it, and you get it. You know you look prettier clean, even more so after somebody's mom gives you a haircut and you've managed to scrub the perma-dirt from under your nails. The want to kiss him is dialled up by a thousand because you always have clean teeth.  

The nagging fear remains even when he's got a mouthful of your neck. 

"Ouch," you moan, hands in his hair, legs spread enough to accommodate his figure between them, "s'like a geek, nibbling on me." 

Steve bites a little harder. 

You gasp at his show of force and push your head away from him. "Steve," you say with a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologises, pulling back. Elbows at your ribs, he holds his weight off of you though there's no reason to. "My teeth missed you." 

"What the fuck." 

"All of me missed you." He strokes the side of your face mildly. "I hate this." 

You wiggle under him, mattress springs digging into your back. He doesn't bother explaining what he'd meant, only leans down to kiss your cheek, your chin, the tip of your nose. 

You stare at him. 

"What do you hate?" 

He scrunches his nose up like it's obvious, and you're stupid for not knowing. "Us being on separate schedules. It's fucking shitty." 

You don't have an answer for him. It seems more than lucky that he would assuage your worst feelings considering you haven't told him anything at all. You haven't told him about staying up at night to make sure Robin's not gonna kill him, or how worried you are that he's gonna realise he can leave you now you're safe, now you don't owe each other anything. You haven't told him how much you love him, and how much that would hurt. 

Somehow, you get the impression that he knows anyway. 

"This is really nice," you say eventually. 

He rests his face against yours. You close your eyes. 

"What's nice?" he asks. "Our separation? You're sick, babe. I'm trying to bare my heart here and you're stomping all over it." 

"Not our separation, dummy. This. You lying on top of me. It feels really nice." 

His small laugh warms your cheek. "I know. Why'd you think I let you climb all over me for months?" 

"'Cause otherwise we'd freeze to death?" 

He kisses a line down to the skin under your ear. "That, too. But mostly because it feels good." 

You wrap your arms around him and press your nose to his hair, smelling him for your own self-indulgence. He lets his weight press down on you, shifting his arm so they're digging behind your shoulders. 

You hook a leg behind his. 

"Steve, I…" 

"I love you." 

You stiffen. 

He hugs you that tiny bit tighter. "I love you," he says again. "I should've told you before, but I- I was so afraid that you'd-" He clears his throat quietly. "I was fucking terrified that I was going to let you down. You kept almost dying on me, and I kept realising I wouldn't be able to do this without you." 

"I love you too," you say, shell-shocked. 

He kisses your cheek slowly, softly, and then he lifts himself up so you're face to face. 

"I love you," you say, because he'd said it twice. 

His smile is gentle, eyes creased with a loving amusement. "I know." Steve steals back one of his arms so he can thumb under your eye. "I know you're not sleeping." 

"Steve-" 

"No, listen. I know you don't trust Robin-" 

"I do-" 

"You don't, and it's okay." He cups your cheek. "It's okay. You know, Hopper said it wouldn’t take long to find us a room. A couple more days and you won’t have to worry. And you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you say, voice softening to match his own. 

He squeezes your cheek. “There’s a lot of stuff I should say to you and I’m kind of trying to hang onto my last shred of dignity here, but I mean it. More than I’ve ever- More than anyone. I love you.”

Your lips fall into a self-pitying pout. You won’t cry, though you feel like you could, because this is possibly the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. Steve loves you more than anyone, plain as day. He wouldn’t say that if he were going to swap you out for a new apocalypse girlfriend anytime soon, ‘cause Steve doesn’t mess with feelings. He’s earnest. 

“Ever since we got here, I’ve been waiting for you to break up with me,” you say. 

Which is funny in itself. You and Steve kissed each other every now and then for weeks before you had the conversation — it feels juvenile to think of boyfriends and girlfriends in life or death, and, paradoxically, it feels really important. The label means a lot to you. The ‘I love you’ means the world, even if he’s been showing it everyday since he met you. 

He makes a sound that’s a combination of a scoff, a snort, and a pitying sigh. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. 

You laugh so loudly it surprises you both. “I’m ridiculous? Get off of me, rich boy.”

Steve hunkers down. “What? No way. I live here now.”

“Seriously, Harrington, get off. I'm sick of you. Robin promised she’d find me a new boyfriend. Maybe I’ll get one with compassion.”

He laughs. He’s trying not to, and it comes out warm and soft to spite him. “Fine, let’s break up.”

“Fine.”

He tilts his head toward yours until your foreheads are touching, staring into your eyes. It takes a lot of willpower to hold in your laugh. “Wanna go on a date with me?”

You lift your chin and kiss him through giggles. “Yeah, okay. Options are pretty limited here, anyway.”

[r0entgen]

Every single day I come to this hellsite to confirm gringos see us as a fucking ideal. 30 million Venezuelans are nothing because the only valid Venezuelans are those who voted for Maduro, the rest of us are imperialist gusanos. Of course we should be worrying about what the US wants to do with our oil! It doesn't matter that people are disappearing, being detained, abused, killed, taken from their homes! After all they're just rich white elites. TRUE Venezuelans are starving because of US sanctions and hate the US.

I haven't slept in three fucking weeks. I can't work, I can't eat. I can't communicate with my parents because they lost electricity and their internet was cut off. Every single day I wake up to more news - videos of people being detained and beaten up on the streets. Someone died because they were assaulted in the protests after the elections. Maduro banned X. Maduro is threatening to ban WhatsApp. Dgcim officers are seizing airports. I'm constantly worried that we're gonna lose internet connection because I use the internet to work and what am I supposed to do if I can't work. I haven't left my home because I'm scared they'll take my phone and detain me for posting shit on the internet. I'm scared they'll do the same to my brother and I won't know because I can't communicate with him either. But all y'all can do is post a "draft" calling for more sanctions and say we're all imperialist fanboys and should apologize TO YOU? WE HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU?

I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm losing it I'm genuinely losing it rn I don't even know what to do

[lutawolf]

My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 7

If you haven't read my other commentary on this show, you can find it here.

Ahhh, I'm so excited for this show. I've been looking forward to it so much. Yoh sweet baby is till watching Segasaki on his show. Aww... "I could watch his face forever." This miscommunication is crazy, but these two really love each other so much.

Yoh really does have an awesome friend in Minnie aka Manju.

Segasaki worrying that Yoh left again. This is a jealous Dom, but that's because he isn't secure in what he has. I've said countless times, there are no bad emotions, only bad reactions. Yoh knows there is something wrong, but he doesn't know what. He wants to fix it, and he is hitting all his usually submissive ways, but they aren't working.

Omg... I can't tell you how many times I watched that side eye from Segasaki as Yoh goes to removed the bag. This is very much a Dom fed up with his brat. 🤣🤣🤣

Yay! Flashbacks from Segasaki's point of view! He is extremely observant. Interesting that he at first negatively viewed Yoh, even though he himself admitted that the people he was surrounded by were shitty.

Segasaki is arrogant, but not unkind. He observes, makes judgment calls, but isn't afraid to re-evaluate. That is actually a good thing to look for in a Dom. You don't want a Dom that is indecisive, nor one that can't admit when he's made a wrong call.

Like I said, kind but arrogant. "You're really talented." I can smile much better. He isn't saying that Yoh didn't capture him right because he clearly admires his talent and tells us that his drawings were so good. It's that he saw something about himself to improve.

He carefully cultivated what others saw, but Yoh saw through this. Knows his small little flashes of facial features. When I say that D/s couples really do watch each other this closely, we do. Remember, our relationships revolve around a lot of nonverbal communication. Each wanting to instinctively please each other, though in different ways. Each needing to anticipate the other's need. Verbal communication also needs to be good, but that's always why we often write guidelines. It helps us communicate our needs. However, you have to remember that this D/s relationship happened organically, so the verbal communication isn't there yet.

Side note, most Doms hate showing vulnerability to anyone other than their submissive. I do on here because I'm pretty much anonymous and this place is my therapy. In real life, though, I'm not very good at showing vulnerability even to my submissive. Though I've gotten softer since my kids.

There is that arrogance again. No one was worth showing his true feelings to. Got me questioning myself when people call me arrogant. But damn, I melted when he asked Yoh not to leave.

The famous curry. We're finally going to know the story. OMG, but I love how natural they both are in their positions. They might not understand their feelings towards each other, but they understand themselves. Segasaki's face as he eats the curry! I'm dying. And you can not tell me that Yoh can read all of Segasaki's facial expressions but didn't recognize Segasaki's facial expression this time? Segasaki covers himself well by bringing up the congee.

Segasaki goes right into commanding Yoh. Telling him to put the curry in Tupperware, and he'll be the only one eating it. He better not touch it. Yoh instinctively obeys. The way he taps Yoh's forehead and tells him, "This is mine." Damn, Yoh, how did you miss that? You is cute and you is stupid. Segasaki happily eating the terrible curry says everything.

Ahh, Segasaki rubbing Yoh's head. Bestowing a reward. The way Yoh's eyes literally twinkled due to it. Absolutely fucking adorable.

"I came all the way here for you. Go ahead and take a good look and draw." When they talk about Segasaki's face when he asked if he really looked like this. Who called it peeps? Who called it. "Draw more. If it's the depths of my heart, as long as it's you, then I don't mind." And there is that Dom intensity and possessiveness.

And back to present day with rain crashing down outside. Segasaki goes looking for Yoh, but can't find him.

OMG, the roof scene is everything. "Without you, I can't breathe." The kiss, that Yoh didn't even think of denying Segasaki. The fact that Segasaki cried because he thought Yoh left. Ugh. We have to watch this again.

I think this is my favorite episode. Yoh is so excited because Segasaki apologizing because he never has before. Nope, Segasaki is apologizing for trusting him and ties him up. Dead. This is the best.

Normies who might be thinking that Yoh is scared. Please note, other than saying "hold on, wait." He offers up no further struggle. Our little coconut is confused and maybe a little scared because he doesn't know why Segasaki is acting like this, but he isn't scared of Sagasaki or what he is doing. There is a fundamental comfort and trust there, hence the no struggle. Remember he is a brat, if he wants to struggle he will. Remember the last episode where he threw a fucking fit? As far as Segasaki doing it without asking, well remember their relationship has an in place agreement of Segasaki having total control. Yoh knew that Segasaki was controlling and a tyrant when he made the agreement. But let me say this, in real life there should be a safe word in place even in these types of relationships. Again, though, this is an organic lifestyle relationships, so we were lucky we got the agreement.

I'm so excited about the next episode!!! Why must we wait! Ahhh. Hope you guys enjoyed! 💜💜💜

[reasonsforhope]

Is it true some parts will be under water in 2025? I'm kinda of worried cause someone told me about it bc it was on the news

Eh, not really. Like, technically, but that's a very dramatic way to put it.

What that person told you about was probably this prediction, which says that some roads on some of the Florida Keys might be underwater by 2025.

Does that suck? Yes. But it's also pretty limited in scope.

(And by the way, that's probably not "underwater all the time." There will probably be a number of years of "the roads will be underwater at high tide specifically." I can't currently find a source on this, but that's how tides work, and the Florida Keys article does specifically mention them as a main problem.)

The areas in danger first are pretty universally small, very low islands. Actually, a dozen or so small islands have already gone underwater in the Pacific Ocean, but very importantly, none of those islands were inhabited.

They were mostly small reef islands (that is, the entire island is exposed coral reef detritus) and other uninhabited shoals. Mostly, they were so small scientists had to check old satellite images to even figure out that they disappeared. Literally, we're talking about chunks of land that are just 100 square meters/300 square feet. Again, not great, but still very limited in scope.

As this Live Science article thankfully explains, it's pretty unlikely that any countries at all will disappear before 2100.

Also, just because land is below sea level doesn't mean it will be underwater, and there are very real steps we can take to defend a lot of endangered cities/islands.

For example:

Much of the Netherlands is already below sea level, but the country isn't disappearing, because the Dutch have put a lot of work into building and maintaining coastal defenses.

Multiple surveys (including the one that found the missing islands in Micronesia) also found that not all low-lying islands are vulnerable to erosion and flooding. This is because many islands are protected by mangrove forests, lagoons, or both

Mangrove reforestation in particular is genuinely a super effective anti-flooding strategy that is being deployed pretty widely, and is expected to increase a lot in the coming years. Mangroves are effective at not only preventing short-term flooding, but also mitigating sea-level increases (in part by preventing erosion)

Some islands, esp Pacific Islands, have actually grown during the past couple decades, not shrunk. It really depends on what the island is made up of. Not all land is automatically doomed

You can read more about how sinking countries are fighting back here, and the lessons we can learn from them:

-via Time, June 13, 2019

And finally, and this is good news for reasons I'll explain in a second:

Some of the largest and wealthiest cities in the world are at the top of the danger list. (Note: the predictions at that link are based on some fairly severe warming predictions. They do NOT necessarily reflect what's going to happen or when.)

The cities that are going to be in danger the soonest (still away btw) include New York, London, San Francisco, Tokyo, and Dubai. Lots of very rich people in those cities! Who would really like to not have to move (any of their ten different homes lol)

So, flooding aside, we're going to (by necessity) get a lot better at figuring out the quickest, cheapest, most scalable, and most effective types of coastal defenses real fast.

Are rich countries going to be way more able to get strong coastal defense systems up quickly? Yes. Does that suck? Sure fucking does!! But these solutions don't all require a lot of money or tech to implement, even at a large scale, especially when it's local communities driving the effort.

And, importantly, when rich countries pour a ton of money into figuring this out, that will hugely expand our understanding of what techniques work best, why, and how best to deploy them in different situations. Unlike physical structures, that's valuable knowledge that can be shared very, very widely.

And any technology that comes out of this is going to work like solar panels and other green energy: as more people use it, it will get cheaper and cheaper. Probably really quickly.

So, all told, no one's going to be swallowed up in the next few years. We have time to work on this and a lot of people are already doing so.

Mostly, experts predict that the first wave of large-scale issues will be happening around 2050.

Three decades doesn't sound like enough time, in the face of something like this. But you know what? Responses to climate change are speeding up exponentially, and different types of responses are multiplying and magnifying each other.

We went from inventing flight to landing on the moon in just 66 years.

I wouldn't count us out of the climate change fight yet.

(...I wouldn't count on retiring to Florida either, though)

[spacechild-glitchypix]

A lot of people are making a lot of public statements considering this is a situation that has pretty much nothing to do with them.

Look, I'm usually one to be pretty civil on conversations like this in public because I generally feel like people are less likely to listen when you're angry and shouting but I'm also acutely aware that none of you are really paying any attention. You're glossing over statements, you're intentionally reading Rose's statements and apologies in bad faith. If you aren't going to have the good graces to truly listen to either Kab or Rose then, respectfully, back away. You're not contributing anything positive to the conversation, you're talking in circles about points already being addressed and claiming they aren't because the answer doesn't suit your narrative

You can think Rose's comments made in the privacy of his own server are unprofessional until the cows come home but, frankly, his professionalism isn't any of your concern unless you're employing him. And, as for the biphobia comments, I'll speak as someone who was literally in those discord screenshots.

The stuff said in Marshie's post is true but, on a larger scale, this was a common discussion in this server. It wasn't started by Rose, it certainly didn't end with Rose, this was an entire server of queer people who were just sick of the heteronormative way some people would develop their MCs. And if you took that as a personal attack then I apologise but I can't help you with your own feelings. We never expected this to reach public eyes, none of us would've actually said this to a person's face about their own MCs. We're not bullies, our words were posted in a public setting without our permission, the fact you people seemed to have missed that (or even claimed that we apparently weren't private enough because somehow we were supposed to just know one of our members was leaking screenshots of our conversations which is a stance I have seen at least one person take) is honestly very telling.

No one should be expected to be 100% polite or civil in their own spaces (this also includes Rose's blog, before one of you fires blossoming-attorney's post at me), we're allowed to have areas where we can speak our own grievance with friends and be hyperbolic without having to worry about people taking our works out of that space to be put completely on blast to the public. Have none of you people ever complained about a boss before???

But more importantly than that, I just think the level of tone-policing and dogpiling and harassment being leveled at one of my friends over a racist smear campaign is fucking appalling. I don't care if you do not think this is racist because race wasn't brought up, if this wasn't racism then why is Rose the only person you people have thought to go after. Why is he the only person that was named, why did no one try to find anyone else in those screenshots.

This fandom is, quite frankly, a racist cesspit, the people who started this harassment campaign by publiclly posting this bullshit on a throwaway reddit account are scum, the people who pushed it without any sort of critical thinking should be deeply ashamed of themselves and every major artist in the community making a statement as to their stance on this whole ordeal needs to back off

This community has destroyed an incredibly important space where me and many others made a number of good friends for nearly a year over the adrenaline rush of jumping on a bandwagon. You've hurt one of my good friends and tried to get him fired from his job to further a racist smear campaign because you didn't like that he's an outspoken black person.

I hope you're fucking proud of yourselves

[iraprince]

Hello! long time silent fan here 💝

i came across an older post referring to you leaving the Guns Blazing project... i did back that kickstarter, and now im kinda worried about just who i gave my money to :/

are you able to share any details about why you left, or if theres anything i should know about the creators? it's too late for me to not give them money, but id like to know before i recommend the game to anyone

the main issue shared in the post you reference is pretty much it: a prominent ttrpg award was given to an active duty military strategist. a lot of people in the community, myself included, were obviously horrified by this and many spoke up about what kind of grotesque and deeply unjust message this sends about what we're allowing (more than allowing, CELEBRATING????) in the space; bafflingly, a bunch of other people in the community all crowded around to congratulate and asspat and defend and gas up this grinning servant of the imperial american death machine. it was horrifying to see that the dev of guns blazing, which the entire time it was funding had constantly and loudly advertised itself as a "decolonial" and "anti-imperialist" game, was one of the people celebrating his win.

when i confronted the dev one-on-one about this, i was told "the man's a personal friend who's helped me out in the past and helped out other marginalized people in the space." that is not a sufficient excuse for me when the issue is what this man was doing to marginalized people, FOR MONEY, FOR HIS CAREER, outside of the space. (it's murder. what a military strategist does is facilitate murder as needed by the state.) u cannot buy back lives you've destroyed globally by getting other poc jobs in roleplaying games or whatever the fuck.

i couldn't handle this. i'm not going to judge other artists who stayed in — i don't know if everyone even saw, the turmoil over the award was something that from what i saw was mostly contained to twitter and the dev kept his head down about it aside from his initial congratulations. there was a moment before i confronted the dev where honestly i thought to myself "maybe i can just pretend i didn't see it," but i knew in my heart that wasn't true and i wouldn't be able to be proud of myself if i did that. so that's why i pulled out.

my tone is heated here bc obviously this is a really appalling subject — it's the reason my commerical work contracts have a fucking ethics clause in them now, lmao — but at the same time i'm honestly not interested in like, "calling out" the dev over this. he let me leave the project immediately and without any issues, and i haven't kept up with anything he's doing since this incident. maybe he's changed his mind or like, one would hope all of the absolute horror we're constantly submerged in from witnessing the us government's eager support of the genocide in palestine has opened his eyes to No, Agents Of The Military Are Not Our Fucking Friends, Actually. i don't know. i don't care to go looking to find out. my interest is not in saying "i think this dev is a bad person and everyone should be wary of them!!!!", it's just to say "this dev did something that was so shocking to me and so misaligned from my own morals that i had to distance myself immediately." i don't know how far that reflects on anything else he believes or does, i just know it was a dealbreaker for me personally. the story ends there for me, and other people will have to make their own judgements based on what they observe now.

[orange-orchard-system]

Got a hate ask on my other blog (funnier-as-a-system) today. I'm not gonna respond to it directly, but I'm gonna go over it fully just as an example of why I don't take anti-endos or sysmeds seriously and find them to be just bullying assholes who don't know what they're talking about. Apologies for the rare discourse post, but I felt it would be useful to have a personal example I can point to if I ever get any more asks than I already have about why I block anti-endos and sysmeds and don't want them on my blogs.

[ID: A screenshot of an anonymous ask, which reads: ""Systems" aren't real. Please stop being ableist against people with DID and our struggles. Pretending to be one of us while simultaneously mocking us makes you look like a piece of shit. Also, DID isn't fucking funny, you're just cruel and ableist. Go see a psychiatrist, get your personality disorders and Munchausens taken care of, and stop pretending to have DID when you don't. We don't need you, our community is better off without teenagers faking DID as a meme. To be honest, I wish you and literally everyone like you were more likely to kill yourself as someone with a real mental illness, because you don't deserve to be alive if this is what you're doing with your life. You're just a delusional bully and neo-nazi" ./ end ID]

Starting from the top, apparently anyone with DID who's ever described themselves as a system is faking now. Nevermind that it's been a term in psychology and the community for decades now! All systems are fake!

I have DID. I've said as much many times. Not that I think this person would consider this a counterargument, but I feel it deserves restating considering a fair amount of my posts are specifically about my DID and managing the symptoms of it.

If I want to find humor in my own disorder, I'm going to. I'm not going to resign myself to misery and self-hate just to please some randos on the Internet. I crawled my way out of the pit of self-hate and am not just gonna jump in there again just to avoid a couple asks and assholes. And I'd make a point here about systems that don't come from trauma or aren't disordered, but what's the point of that when they think literally all systems are fake?

Ohoho! Disableism towards other mental disorders! Isn't the irony sweet?

Not to toot my own horn, but I just love the lack of awareness when it comes to "we don't need you." No, I guess you don't need me... but you'll be going without the work I've done both online and offline to teach people about dissociation and plurality. Not to mention the terms I've coined that make people feel seen, the experiences I've talked about that make people feel less alone, the building of spaces to let others talk about their own problems and experiences, and the general promotion I've done of plural representation in media. No, you don't need me, but I've been doing work to assist the DID and wider plural communities for years now. And what have you been doing? Sending hate asks to people with DID for being too happy?

I'm an adult. I've mentioned before that I go to university and have a job. Seems like even online, I can't escape the assumption that I'm a teenager, smh. Also, I'm much more worried about the teenagers you might be sending this to than any kind of unquantifiable harm a couple teenagers faking DID could do, considering how clearly you wish to do harm with your words. Especially considering the next few sentences...

Oh, so we're just moving onto blatant suicide baiting and admitting you want systems to die. Got it. Totally not a bigot, right.

Wait... "Real mental illnesses"? Didn't you just accuse me of having several earlier? Or do personality disorders and Munchausen Syndrome not count? (Also, do they think being suicidal is a requirement to be mentally ill? They know not all disorders or presentations of disorders involve suicidality, right?)

Well, you got the delusional part right (which, side note, do you think it's impossible for people to have both DID and psychosis? Big yikes even if no, but that's what these asks always seem to imply), but I think this post might be the closest anyone can call "bullying", considering I'm not giving you an opportunity to respond as I tear down your argument. But maybe the definition of peer abuse changed to *checks notes* running a blog talking about plurality in a positive manner since I last checked.

These people do know what a Neo-Nazi is, right? They know what a Nazi is? Because it feels like people just use it as a stand-in for "general asshole" when it means a specific sort of ideology and bigotry. Ironic that they'd be so pissed about "mockery" and treating serious topics "as a meme", but then they go and misuse a term for a very dangerous kind of ideology and person.

Alright, I think I got that out of my system. Please be careful out there, guys! It feels like the number of hate asks I've seen people get has been going up. I'm in a stable enough place to make a demonstration out of this, but don't push yourself to have a snappy comeback or write essays responding to these assholes if you don't think you're up for it. Hell, I rarely write things like this myself, I just chose this ask to respond to because it was such a clear example of how hypocritical and foolish this particular brand of assholes is that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to break it down.

[pb-dot]

It's Peebsday

I don't normally make a big ado about my birthday, I don't like creating a fuss, and it doesn't exactly help that I share the date this year with another one of those apocalypticly pivotal US elections, as well as the always very important "Castiel goes to superhell day." This year though? I said fuck it, it's time to Make A Post.

The passing year has been frustrating for me along multiple angles. My efforts to seek therapy has been thwarted by the local healthcare bueracracy becoming temporarily very hostile to people looking for help with anything more complex than the most unambigiously diagnosed and treatment-responsive of cases, which is bad news for my treatment-resistant ass. On the bright side, this radio silence from the Healthcare State has prompted me to reflect on my condition, and even seek out an autism diagnosis, although the jury's still out on whether that's something I'll actually get or if I'll remain as one of God's Originals, too normal to diagnose, too abnormal to function? Time, I suppose, will tell.

As is perhaps typical for us Writerly Types, Employment has also been a struggle this year. This frustration in particular grew to a fever pitch over the summer, as my "Job Guy" from the local employment office went so thoroughly AWOL I still haven't been able to confirm whether he still works there or not. To her credit, his eventual replacement has shown great interest in getting me into a job that doesn't rely almost entirely on what I've now come to understand to be my ability to mask, or as I've referred to it, my "normal person cosplay."

There is, however, one bright side of this otherwise very frustrating state of affairs. I am writing. I'm not writing as much as I'd like, but it's way more consistent than I've ever done it, and it's at a pace I think I'll be able to maintain even under the duress of employment. Hell, it's even not a thing I need to worry about publishing, since I'm chucking it all out in the aether via a mailing list twice monthly. It won't pay the bills or anything since the mailing list is free, but it's not like my efforts at getting TCB published has gotten me anywhere either.

Thereafter, or as I would call it if I was angry at it, Thereafter Book 1: The City After The End, is a very fun book to work with. The concept of a postapocalyptic city made out of the flotsam and jetsam of destroyed fantasy worlds is ripe with opportunities for fun worldbuilding as well as a very effective underlying conflict. If our heroes don't figure their shit out and help everyone's going to panic and starve and things won't be very magical at all. Speaking of the heroes, the antagonistic-but-flirting-but-kinda-over-it banter between the four protagonists is a real blast to write, although I try to not over-indulge to actually get that fun plot I'm talking about going.

I feel like I'm laying it on thick here, but this isn't exactly me advertising the thing (although I will link the mailing list if it should rouse some interest,) as much it is talking about what a joy it is to write the thing. We writers should get better at that, I think. Yeah, some times writing sucks, and is difficult and hurts, but you know what? Some times it's not. A lot of the time for me, actually. Writing has a noticeable impact on my mental health. My last therapist noted that I seemed considerably less depressed than usual when I wrote the first draft of His Impossible Brushstrokes during NaNo last year.

So that's my year in brief review. It's been a tough year for me. Bearable? Yes, certainly, the fact that things are difficult right now only further motivates what I've come to call my "slightly overtuned sense of fairness and justice," and people have come to call "the reason you're so pissed off all the time."

It's not all bad though. I've come to really appreciate Writeblr as a community. Yeah we're all stressed and probably worrying about Writing The Middle Part, but I do find the cameraderie refreshing. @owlsandwich and @teacupsandstarlight in particular have been lights in my life, both thanks to their neverending patience in beta-reading Thereafter chapters with little to no warning, and in their boundless enthusiasm and commiseration with my various rants. You two have made a pretty shit year so much better just by being around!

Anyway, link to Thereafter below, it is 13 chapters long at the moment, book 1 is slated to be roughly 23-24 chapters long, but you know how it is with this kind of thing. Also if you've read this far I love you and hope you have as good of a Destiel Goes To Superhell Day as possible (also if you're an eligible voter in the US I pray of you that you Vote, I don't know if I have another Trump presidency in me and I don't even live over there.)

[sysmedsaresexist]

What you're doing is incredibly brave. We really appreciate the risk you're taking sharing your journey. It's awesome to see someone so vocal and with such reach openly change their stance.

We wanna know some of your thoughts about something you've been saying in all of this, about CDDs being separate from endogenic plurality. Specifically, your thoughts on when the two do meet. Like, endogenic systems that get traumatized and develop CDD symptoms? Or CDD systems that practice headmate creation, and find created headmates working like the rest of their system? Or folks in either category that relate a lot with those in the other?

We're curious because we exist in that in-between; a system with DID due to trauma, but that doesn't view our plurality itself as coming from trauma.

And if you're not at all interested in that area of overlap, or in sharing those thoughts, no worries! Have a great day!

This is a pretty nuanced ask and each mod has a different view on things, so we'll all answer!

Mod Signal: I believe that endogenic plurality and the plurality found in CDD systems works differently, but that intersection you're talking about can exist. The majority of resources for CDD systems involve how to deal with trauma and different alters reactions to it. If an endogenic system goes through some shit and gets trauma later in life, and can get use out of grounding guides, or how to deal with flooding, I say use those guides (and literally anyone can improve their mental health from therapy as long as the therapist. You know. Isn't a cunt.) That being said. There are also endos who are very certain they're endos when they may have.... a bit more trauma than they thought. And that's normal. Incredibly so. But endogenic communities can lead to a bit more harm than good occasionally with those systems if they insist that the system in question isn't or couldn't be a cdd system, or encourages them not to look into resources on how to deal with trauma.

As far as purposefully created alters, they absolutely exist, and I know CDD systems that have created alters with it going ok, and CDD systems who have been *horribly* hurt trying. I've seen some tulpamancy guides out there that made me wince the whole time I've read them. Not because they're cringy, but because any time a CDD system fucks around with purposeful dissociation, it's Incredibly easy to fuck yourself up by accident. Even some guides to meditation can be harmful to systems if you don't go slowly and pay attention to your body (something that's already very, very easy to ignore if your system, like mine, is made of 90% pain holders lol).

It's for that reason that i haven't changed my pinned intro as "endo-neutral". I dont doubt endogenic plurality at all, but I still find a lot of critiques in the way the two communities mix. The labels are fucked anyway lol so. I dont know what label would best fit that stance. The problem does seem to be slowly fixing itself though. I'm happy that a lot of endos are leaning away from terms used by CDD systems. I view these problems for the most part as growing pains that will smooth themselves over as plurality in general becomes more accepted and more research about both sets of systems comes out.

Mod Quill: I’m feel like that’s a great jumping off point for me, someone who is so weird with syscourse that labels don’t fit me. I believe in endogenic plurality, I really do, but I also know this community has done so much harm to CDDs and vice versa. Part of me wants everyone to go to time out corners and think about what they’ve done.

In terms of the overlap between endogenic and CDD systems… I think defining it, at this point, is frankly meaningless, particularly for the reasons Signal stated. There’s so many endogenic systems who are actually CDD systems. On one hand, I want them to be able to access CDD spaces because, well, they have a CDD… but on the other, as someone who’s been horrifically damaged by endogenic spaces, who has spread a lot of misinformation and been fed a lot of misinformation due to those experiences… I’m wary of letting someone like that into a highly fucking traumatized space. (But I also have feelings about CDD spaces in general…)

At the end of the day, I feel like it’s not my place to draw that line. It’s up to each individual and their own system where they draw the line, and so long as it’s in-line with current understandings of CDDs and they don’t speak their personal experiences as if they’re gospel truth for all systems, I have no issues. If someone says they have endogenic DID (as in, they formed DID with absolutely no trauma), it’s not my place to directly confront that person and tell them that’s not possible; but if they shout from the heavens about how people are ignoring the truth, I’m going to post the truth as I know it, with sources to back it up.

The same goes for this overlap. A system who says “Hey, I have created alters, and I’m a DID system, and those things overlap?” Cool! Awesome! That’s actually my type of system. A system who goes, “Therefore, DID systems should split new alters for the benefits it has”? Allow me to traumadump about how my system completely destabilized due to that practice. The overlap is there, but it’s not for me to define for others; not unless they make their experiences universal.

Mod Robo: Oh boy, I have a lot of Thoughts on all of these questions! It's stuff I think about often. I love talking about all the in-betweens and overlaps, and I'd love to hear about your experiences too. Unfortunately, I don't think I can jam all of my thoughts in this post (it's already long enough) so I'll just talk about your first question.

First off, I want to say that I don't think it's all that unusual for someone with a CDD to feel like they've always been plural, even before their CDD. Of course, spiritual beliefs can play a role in that. Let's put spiritual reasonings aside though and look at it from a purely psychological view. It's our belief that all of our alters -- everything that can be them, will become them, etc. -- it's all there from the start. We don't believe that alters come out of a vacuum. All of my alters were born the day our body was born. Many of us did not exist as alters yet, but the foundation for us existed!

To give a personal example: some of us have memories of childhood that predate our existence as alters. These memories predate our knowledge of being a system or having DID. We've wondered how it's possible to have memories that predate our existence as alters. How is it possible for several alters to have these same memories, and feel as if it's their own but also not? How is it possible that we can't really attribute "who" those memories belong to other than just...us? All of us? It didn't fit into the mainstream idea that alters are supposed to be these distinct, clear-cut people sharing a body, with separate memories and no overlap, no utterance of our existence before becoming a separate alter.

Children aren't born with an integrated self. You probably know the whole spiel -- the mind integrates as you get older, blah blah blah. So, in our opinion, we were never not plural. We had an unintegrated mind full of parts as a child, and we grew up into an adult with an unintegrated mind full of parts and eventually a DID diagnosis.

I get that some people don't see themselves as existing before their CDD and that's okay, I understand that. I also relate to that, in a way! It can be weird to consider because you as the alter didn't exist until later on. But you as the brain did, if that makes sense.

All that being said, I believe that "endogenic CDDs" are a completely separate concept from "endogenic systems with CDDs." CDDs are diagnoses -- they have specified symptoms, diagnostic criteria, and treatment. Diagnoses are not people. You are. That's why plurality is such an incredibly personal thing, after all. We're literally talking about your own mind. Your self/selves. Your internal reality. No duh there are gonna be people who conceptualize and talk about it in different ways. Like, I firmly believe that's NEVER going to be clear cut and easy to understand.

OG Dude: First, I have to say, thank you to my mods. Their responses are fantastic, I support all of them. I brought them all in pretty early, and I wouldn't be where I am without them. Their pro/endo patience while I went back and forth, screamed and yelled... I love them. I love that they saw the good in me and decided to help me run this blog.

I agree with all that they said. For clarity sake, I'll give my own thoughts, even if they overlap or repeat.

I've posted from the beginning about how a lot of things that endogenic systems talked about were actually really normal in DID systems. Created alters, characters that take on life, MADD, loving your system, dysfunction in different areas of life, on and on. I think there's more intersection than a lot of people realize, but I really like how Robo talked about personal views. It took a really long time to realize that people defining their experiences in different ways isn't necessarily a bad thing, though it's unfortunate that sometimes this confuses systems that are still learning.

Yelling and screaming isn't going to help, though. There's another ask coming, this one about my thoughts on sophie, that I think will tie into this point and expand on it a lot more, so for now, I'll move on.

I don't have all the answers. I think CDDs are something extremely specific-- I think in a few more years, diagnosis will involve brain scans, biomarkers, and we'll be able to say with a lot more certainty where that line is, and what's different.

For now, I think I've learned that the best thing I can do for myself, and everyone else, endo or CDD, is just keep pumping out information.

A couple users on here are really good examples of these lines. They have CPTSD, PTSD, whatever else they've got going on, but they still hold the belief that their plurality and CPTSD are unrelated. It took a long time to come to terms with balancing respect for that self-determination, and my expectations of technology and the specificity of CDDs (meaning like, specific biomarkers).

In the end, I realized that it boiled down to, "are people getting the help they need?" Because in the end, that's all that matters, and if someone doesn't think they need help, why am I arguing? If someone does, who am I to keep them from resources?

What if that technology doesn't reach the mainstream, what if it's decades before it's refined enough to be financially feasible in diagnosis? What if people come out with the exact same brain structure as someone with DID and still refuse to admit that the plurality is related?

Well, shit, I don't know, but I'm guessing the answer is still going to be, "Don't yell at them, respect their self-determination."

I still firmly believe that plurality and CDDs are different things. I think that treatment for CPTSD and PTSD are different, and many endos without longterm, repetitive trauma in childhood have PTSD, and would benefit more from those spaces and resources than CDD/CPTSD spaces. However, I also admit that a general PTSD space isn't going to be prepared for the complex interplay of plurality and PTSD. All that said, it's not my job to tell someone which they have, my job should be to present information on both to everyone and let people come to their own conclusions.

It's hard, but it's a skill I'm still trying to learn. Seeing more people talk about their experiences is probably the only thing that's going to help make it easier.

[luveline]

& speaking of the Steve zombie au series —

would you ever maybe give us a little tidbit of maybe Steve and reader where he finally admits to her not only just how petrified he was when she got kidnapped, but also how much he’s realized that he cannot live without her? I could feel his walls coming down in that last excerpt and felt our boy wanting to just UNLEASH all of his emotions to us and the comforted one vs the comforter, like — ugh my baby 🥲

even if you never wrote this tho your writing and this series is literally unmatched like oh my fucking god I love you and don’t even know you???

thank you so much ♥ for you, fem!reader zombie!au steve

"You want to what?" 

"I want to move into the pantry." 

You stare at Steve, your shock melding into unhappiness. "No, you don't." 

He laughs at your frown and sits up a little taller. He almost drops his tray. "I do! I miss you all the time, I don't see why we chose separate jobs in the first place." 

You look down at your own tray. You and Steve have chanced the unnatural winter sunshine to eat in the quietude outside of the cafeteria, but it's cold despite the sunshine and you don't like the food today and now Steve is… doing whatever it is he's doing. 

"I miss you too," you say. "You want this?" 

"You need to eat." 

"I don't like–" 

"That's never stopped you before," he teases lightly. 

"Forgive me for being picky," you say, and you're not being sarcastic. It's an amazing privilege at this point, and in these circumstances, to be able to turn food away. "You eat it for me, please." 

"We can go to the shop tonight and pick something you like," he says. 

'The shop' is just that, a small store of any excess pantry stuff, luxuries people don't strictly need. You can trade or you can cash in a 'credit' or a few for something. There's been some great stuff in there lately, like marshmallows and a huge box of three musketeers bars. 

"No…" You don't want him to buy you treats. It's like a reward for being difficult. "You can't come to work in the pantry, there isn't anything for you to do." 

"Then I'll do something else. I just want to be here with you." 

"But," you say, alarmed, "you can't do that. We can't be like that." 

You've only just got back to normal. Not normal, because this isn't normal, not this community or the apocalypse or what happened to you, but better than it had been. You get up in the mornings at the same time and eat breakfast in the cafeteria, where Hopper hosts town hall, and then you part for your separate jobs. You work in the kitchen, Steve works as a sort of security guard patrolling the fences of the community to stop a geek invasion, and occasionally leaves the College to bring things back from the abandoned shopping mall a couple of miles away. 

"Be like what?" he asks, sounding like he's about to sulk with you as he puts his tray at the floor by his feet. 

"Codependent." 

"We're already codependent. I think we're allowed." 

"See, that's what everybody says, but–" 

You put your tray down on the floor because you doubt Steve's going to eat it. It clinks next to Steve's with a more aggressive emphasis than you'd wanted.

You look at him, really look at him, eyes scanning his eyes and his mouth and the way he's holding his shoulders. He's tense. He's anxious. 

"Stevie," you say, and offer him your hand. 

He doesn't take it. "But what?" he asks. 

"I need you to be happy," you say, "how can you be happy if you're always worried about me? And when you're not worried about me it's because you're giving up the things you like doing to be near me." 

Your voice is quiet. It's hard to say all that out loud, one half of you worried he'll laugh in your face and say you've got it all wrong, and the other worried you'll hurt his feelings. 

"I need you." 

"Steve, you–" 

"I do," he says, staring a hole into your thigh, "I need you. I went fucking crazy without you." 

"You would've been okay." If something happened to me. 

He shakes his head. "No, I would've been a mess. Probably forever." 

This isn't the first time you've seen Steve vulnerable, but it's been a long time. He's been your pillar of strength, he's held you through nightmares and moments of unreality. He hadn't once wavered. 

You push onto your feet. You stand in front of him, weaving your fingers into the soft hair at the back of his head. 

"Steve," you say, pulling his head into your chest. You don't continue, wanting to say, Why didn't you tell me you felt like that? 

But he had. Hadn't he? He'd crossed the wilderness in the dead winter on a maybe that you'd be somewhere he could reach. 

His shoulders shift under your hand. You think, horrified, that he might be crying. 

"Steve," you whisper, pressing your lips into his hair. "It's okay. You saved me, you know?" 

"But what if I didn't get there in time? You were all alone. You were tied up," he says.

"I'm sorry." You don't know what else to say. You're so sorry. That he would have to think that, and see you like that. "It's my fault. I'm sorry." 

His arms slide behind your back and lock you in so tightly you feel like each of his fingers is touching your spine. You scramble to keep a hold on him. 

"I– you know, I lost my shit in the communal bathrooms and Robin had to tell me to get ahold of myself," he admits, trying to be lighthearted. He sounds strangled. 

"I didn't know that," you say, your eyes filling with tears. 

You have no clue if Steve is crying now. You think he might be. He's unsteady under your hands, the side of his face buried in your sternum, his hands clinging to you like you're a liferaft at sea. You try to calm him down, and find, ashamed of yourself, that you don't know how. 

"I'm so sorry, Steve," you mumble, sniffing his hair. He smells like your shared soap. 

All you can do is let him hug you. Eventually, his grip loosens, and he pull his face from your torso to look up at you. 

"Squeezing you…" He rubs his hands softly over the places he'd gripped. 

"You didn't hurt me. You'd have to try way harder than that, Harrington," you say. 

He reaches up for your face and you let him take it, bending at the waist for a kiss. You ignore the dampness under his eyes at first, thinking maybe that's what he wants. You kiss him all wonky in your desperation to feel it, and you laugh wetly as you lean back. 

You wipe his cheeks. "I love you," you say, and you both fill up with tears again. 

"This is embarrassing," Steve says, laughing with you.

You nod fiercely. Super embarrassing. 

You wouldn't have it any other way, though. You throw your arms around his neck for a second time and kiss the top of his head until you can't feel your lips.