#i think. sort of thing that makes me skeptical of people who say this instead of considering that they're hurting)

[bau-muffin]

“Pure Intentions”

Ship: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1,162 Words

Summary: You are an agent who is also spiritual and loves crystals. So, you decide to give your favorite boss man, SSA Aaron Hotchner, black tourmaline.

Hotch really didn’t know why insomnia had chosen to haunt him on a Sunday night, but he felt the full extent of it when he stepped into the bullpen the next morning. He wasn’t really given to vanity, but he felt like his eyebags were eye-totes now, and even though he had downed a cup of coffee before leaving the house, he felt like if he was still for even a second, he’d fall asleep.

Of course the weekend he had off was when his mind barred him from a good night’s rest- the night before work, no less.

He had not been at his desk for more than ten minutes when you bustled into his office, your smile wide as usual despite being almost eight in the morning.

“Good morning! I was going to wait closer to lunch, but then Penelope told me a case came in, so I decided to give this-“ you stopped to actually look at him, and even though an amused smile was pulling at his lips, he looked so exhausted. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked how you were doing first.”

“I’m not sick, just tired,” Hotch said kindly, “what do you have?”

“Black tourmaline! I know you’re not much of a spiritualist, but the low down on it is that it sponges up negative energy! And I mean… I know you don’t exactly have a choice, you know, to be or not to be around negative energy but…” you shrugged before admitting, “It also reminded me of you too. Also, again I know you don’t put huge stock into it, but I also charged it for you.”

You put the shiny black chunk on his desk, almost shyly. He picked it up, studying it and turning it over in his hands. You half expected him to pull his reading glasses out to look at it, and if he had- well, you couldn’t rightly be held responsible for the noise you might have made.

“This reminds you of me?” Hotch asked skeptically, his brows knitted slightly.

“Mhm! It’s a bodyguard type crystal. And… I guess you have that sort of… vibe? To me anyways,” you added on a little less than tactfully as you were visibly becoming fidgety, your hands smoothing down your skirt.

“You see me as the bodyguard type.”

You put your hands on your hips, an eyebrow raising. “Did you or did you not become overprotective when I said that my car alarm was going off in the parking lot and you insisted on stealthily going towards the car first with your pistol? Or did I hallucinate that?”

“I’ve seen some things in my time, and I know malevolent people would target a woman who’s alone when she’s leaving her workplace,” Hotch said defensively. You only smiled.

“Whatever you say. Regardless, that’s for you. Maybe, one day, I’ll get a keychain for you.”

“Thank you, that was… actually thoughtful and sweet of you. You’re right that I don’t put a whole lot of stock into this… sort of thing,” he admitted as he turned the crystal over in his palm again, “but I think… I think the weight of intentions are real.”

“Maybe those intentions will carry you home safe from this case, then. Judging from the groaning sounds coming from Garcia’s cave, I’m thinking it’s a doozy. By the way…”

“Mm?”

“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before you go in to briefing?”

“That would be wonderful of you, thank you. One sugar-“

“-and no cream. I know how you make your coffee, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” you teased.

Hotch shook his head. “The full government name.”

You turned to walk out when he called your name, and you turned back to him.

“Can you come to my desk for a second?”

You complied, going to his desk with a nervous giggle. You thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply rose from his seat and kissed your cheek.

You touched your flushing cheek with a slightly shaky hand. “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Just a thank you for being as thoughtful as you are. Truly… you make working here a bit easier.”

“Aw, you’re going to make me cry, so I’ll laugh instead.” You were going to turn to flee, but boldness filled you and you leaned up to kiss his cheek, except he moved, and you kissed the corner of his stern lip.

“Uh-” you backed away from him.

“Don’t panic,” Hotch ordered calmly- almost too calmly- “it’s not your fault, it was mine for reacting too quickly.”

Your cheeks flushed hot red and despite his command to not panic, you immediately fled the scene, leaving behind a confused but slightly amused Aaron.

A few minutes later, JJ entered his office with his cup of coffee in one hand and sat it on his desk, the other arm full of file folders. She gestured with her head towards the bullpen, “Hey, um, Agent-“

“I know,” Hotch said with a minuscule smirk, sipping the coffee, and almost immediately moaned aloud. True to your word, you knew exactly how he takes his coffee. He kept glancing towards the crystal sitting on his desk, and when Garcia called for him to come to the briefing room, he carefully slid it in his pocket.

On the jet, after all the details of the case had been discussed, Hotch leaned back in the chair, his fourth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. Even though he made his coffee exactly the same as always, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one you made for him. He took the black tourmaline out of his pocket and held it in his hand. It works on a jet, right? It’s closer to the sun, it has to be like the best charging method.

“What do you have there?” Rossi asked from across him, looking up from a book- a compilation of Garfield comic strips over the years.

“A crystal. I think it’s… black tourmaline?”

Reid, of course, overheard this and had to jump in with, “you know, within pagan and spiritual circles, black tourmaline has protective properties, banishing negative vibrations, and it’s also supposed to be grounding.” He looked at the crystal in Hotch’s hand. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this crystal on that agent’s desk. She and Anderson talk about them all the time, and apparently she keeps some of them in her desk, as does Anderson.”

“She and Anderson are good friends,” Hotch volunteered. “She’s the one who gave this to me.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Rossi commented, sounding too innocent for Hotch’s liking.

“She is,” Hotch agreed simply, not taking the bait.

He and “that agent” were going to have to have a conversation when he got back home- he was entirely too intrigued by you. Perhaps he could ask you what crystal was the best for asking someone on a date.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #fluffy #fluff fic

[fatuismooches]

I'M BITING MY HANDS I NEED MORE ZANDIK AT THE ACADEMY.

I love the little zandik at the academy, I love webttore, I love the grown-up dottore with gray hair and a little wrinkles. Ohh I can't😣😣

I NEED THEM ALL.

Cooked up some more Akademiya Dottore hcs for you anon...

Whenever he wore the Akademiya's hat with his uniform, you'd always steal it and he'd get mad, but eventually he gave up and let you hog it. It's probably a little big on you and as revenge, he'd make fun of you for looking dumb. Same with his clothes, for some reason you'd wear his Akademiya uniform to sleep sometimes? Zandik doesn't understand but every time he tries to pull it off of you, he's been unsuccessful, so he'll just let you be a strange little human since it seems to be working for your productivity... Centuries later he's learned to deal with a few shirts going missing and then you returning them after a while because they 'lost his scent.' (He wears the same outfit anyway, no big deal).

Thanks to you, there were quite a few times the professors actually listened to him. Other peers pretty much never vouch or stand up for him so it does make them think a bit when a student such as yourself does do it so vehemently. Zandik says you don't need to waste your time on it since he doesn't really care what they think, but he did manage to get a few more research opportunities thanks to you. In the beginning, he was pretty much clueless on how to express some sort of gratitude since he couldn't force out the words 'thank you' for the life of him. It was very funny for you to watch.

Group projects become so much better once the two of you get comfortable with each other. Both of you have been victims of doing all the work. You were quite excited to work with someone like him because you know of his intelligence and how he gets down to business. Meanwhile, Zandik was quite skeptical and annoyed to work with you in the beginning because he thought you were just another person who would end up leeching off him again.

However, he was surprisingly yet pleasantly proven wrong. He's especially impressed with your writing in the reports/essays, but he's never going to admit that. At least not now. The synergy between you two and your minds is something he doesn't know how to deal with at first, having dealt with so many of the opposite situations, but it's one of the biggest things that Zandik grows to be appreciative of.

When the semester is over, all students need to leave/clear the dorms until the next semester begins. Most return to wherever home is, but of course that's not something Zandik has, so most times he manages to rent out a place for a while. When you met him in the beginning he would just disappear to Archons knows where and then come back as if nothing happened next semester.

It takes a long time for him to tell you. When he does, he claims that he regrets it due to how often you show up to bother him, but in reality, he finds himself lonely without your company. As even more years go by, eventually he "invites" you to live with him. ("Invites" as in he never directly says it. Just drops subtle hints so you would ask him first instead). You're just happy to be able to cook for him more often (and 24/7 cuddles!!) (Just me trying to push my domestic Zandik and Reader agenda).

Just frequently being with each other but not needing to interact with the other. Both of you just do your own things in the peace of knowing the other's there.

Doesn't like when you ask others for help when he's literally right there. Please ask your genius scholar bf first. It doesn't matter what the problem is. Just ask him otherwise he'll get huffy and glare at you. No, you're not wasting his time by doing so. Rather, you're wasting both his and your time when you decide to go to other people first!

Coming home from expeditions. For some reason despite how tired you are, you want to feed stray kitties. It becomes a sort of tradition for you two.

This one was said a while ago, but I'll bring it back again (x, x, x) but you needing to wipe Zandik's hands because he keeps breaking pens and splattering ink everywhere. Whenever you see he gets a little too excited, you swipe the pen and start writing light-speed so he doesn't try to steal it from you for being 'too slow.'

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #glad im not the only escher simp around once again #this is such a safe space #but ouhh yess... akademiya zandik is my beloved #he would make the college experience so much better #(speaking as someone who was excited for college initially but it ain't that great 💀) #some of these are a tiny bit 🤏 self indulgent for me

[ecoamerica]

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#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 9

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Okay, for the next one,” said Danny, doodling on a piece of paper, “I think I’m going to pick from the older end again.  Like, I’ve done number one, number five, and number seven, so that leaves two, three, four and six.  Could just do the middle one, four.  That’s the biggest group.  Or I could do one of the single people.”

“You could pick any of them,” said Clockwork.  He placed another piece into the puzzle he was working on at the dining room table.  

“I know,” said Danny.  “I’m just thinking out loud.”  He’d been leaving Clockwork’s after breakfast, but he’d broken that habit this time around.  It was almost noon.  He just couldn’t make up his mind.  

Part of him wondered if he should have stayed with Vlad a bit longer.  Maybe he could have pushed him to tell the truth.  But… he didn’t know how Vlad would have reacted to that.  What if it had been bad?  

On the other hand, it might have been good to know if his reaction to being pushed had been bad.  If it had been, Danny would have known not to pick him.  Maybe… maybe deciding to leave was a little… cowardly.  

“Hey, Clockwork?”

“Yes?”  He looked up from the puzzle, but kept inserting pieces.  

“Am I different than I was with my memory?  Like, am I acting different than I would have, if I still remembered?”

“Of course.  You would have knowledge that you currently do not, if you remembered.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Sure, I get that.  But what about… I’m… Am I acting like, not as… brave?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Vlad said I was sort of a, I don’t know, a superhero, kind of.”

“I see.”

“But I kind of feel like if I had been, then I’d be more…  I would have acted differently, with Vlad.”

“Hm,” said Clockwork.  “I think I understand what you mean.”

“And?” prompted Danny.  

“And, I have often found that it is easier to be brave if you have something to be brave for.  When it is not a choice so much as it is a necessity.  You do not need to be brave, here.  This isn’t one of those situations.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” said Clockwork.  “You aren’t unmonitored, when you are visiting the candidates.  Part of my role is to enforce the rules.”

“I don’t really see how that means I don’t need to be brave in this situation.  I kind of feel like there’s a lot I need to be brave about, here.  I could be hiding out in my room instead of out here.”

“You could be.”

“But I’m not.  I’d say that was… brave…  Wait, that’s not the position I was arguing before.”

“It is not,” said Clockwork.  

Danny scowled at him, then slouched down in his chair.  “You know what else is brave?  Your new decorative choices.”

The walls of the kitchen - not to mention the rest of the house - were now covered in clocks of various sizes and shapes.  

“Mhm.  Well, in your absence, I must occupy myself.”  

Danny looked around the room again, eyes lingering on the clocks.  “I don’t know that I’m that… occupying.  Like, I’ve not been here for more than a day at a time, and usually less than that.”  He hesitated.  “And we don’t… do that much together, do we?”

“We’re doing things together now.”

“I’m mostly just complaining at you about my choices, but okay.”

“Even so.”

“What if I just… take another day?  To decide who to go to next, I mean.”

“Take as long as you want.  In the meantime, you could help me with this puzzle.”

“Or,” proposed Danny, “we could play some video games together.  A lot of the ones I like are multiplayer.”

Clockwork put the remaining puzzle pieces back in the box.  “We can certainly try that.  I’ve never played before.”

Danny grinned.  “I think you’ll like it.”

.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before?” asked Danny.  

“Quite.”

“You’re good.”

“I have always prided myself on my timing.”

Danny groaned as he died again.  

.

“Okay, I’ve made my decision,” said Danny, a few days later.  Breakfast that day consisted of french toast.

“Really?”

“You don’t have to sound so skeptical.”

“This is my normal voice.”

“Is it?”

“It is.  What is your choice?” asked Clockwork.   

“Eager to get rid of me?”

“I am merely curious.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  “Sure you are.”

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, with a faint air of exasperation.  

“I want to visit the third person,” said Danny.  “I figure I might as well be symmetrical.”

“It’s as good a system as any.  Do you want to leave now, or later?”

“Now,” said Danny.  He did not say, ‘before I change my mind again.’

“Very well.”  

Clockwork raised his staff, a spark of blue swirling off the tip.  The portal would form in just a split second.  

“I’ll miss you,” blurted Danny, impulsively.  

Clockwork’s eyes widened slightly, but he did not respond before the portal swept Danny away.  

The first thing Danny noticed about the new place was how cold it was.  He wrapped his arms around himself, and cursed himself for not realizing that someone named Frostbite of the Far Frozen would live somewhere cold.  

“Oh, dear,” said a deep voice.  “Great one, my apologies.  I did not realize your core would be inactivated.”

Danny was bundled into a pair of furry arms and swept away to a much warmer area.  That wasn’t to say it was warm.  Just.  Warmer.  

“Oh, wow, that was cold,” said Danny.  He rubbed his arms and wrapped his tail around his knees.  

“Yes,” said Frostbite.  “Usually that’s not an issue for you.”

“I can’t imagine why not.”  Danny shot a look at his latest temporary guardian.  

Frostbite was a huge, tall, white-furred ghost.  He had a long muzzle and horns, along with ears that had more than a passing resemblance to Danny’s.  Danny ran a hand over his own ears, wondering.  Were they related somehow?  

“Generally,” said Frostbite, “in the normal course of things, that is, you are quite cold-resistant.  You have a cold core, like myself, although that aspect of your core seems to have been rendered dormant.”

“Vlad mentioned cores,” said Danny.  

Frostbite's furry eyebrows went up.  “You have already met Plasmius?”

“Um, yeah.  Just before you, actually.”

“What?!”  Frostbite patted Danny over with his large, paw-like hands.  “Did he harm you?  Are you injured?  Did he do anything to you?”

“Um,” said Danny, stepping back.  “No.  He was pretty chill actually.”

“Chill.”

“I mean, like.  He didn’t do anything bad to me.  He was pretty nice, even though he didn’t tell me we’d been enemies.  The Dairy King did.”

Frostbite got a sort of pinched look on his face.  “The Dairy King was assisting him?  How unusual.”

“I don’t know about assisting,” said Danny.  “He did tell me about how Vlad and I used to fight and all.”

“Even so,” said Frostbite.  His eyes were still roving over Danny, apparently worried.  “I would like to give you a full medical checkup.  I was unable to do so… before.”

“Before the trial?” asked Danny, tilting his head to one side.  He felt one of his ears flick.  

“Yes,” said Frostbite, heavily.

He seemed to be struggling with whether or not to say anything else, so Danny took the opportunity to look around.  

The room he was in was… strange.  There was really no other way to put it.  It was small.  Only about the size of Danny’s bedroom at home with Clockwork.  The walls, where they were visible, looked like ice-covered stone, but they mostly weren’t visible.  They were covered with layers of fur and strange tapestries.  Some of the tapestries looked more or less like Danny imagined tapestries to look: lengths of tightly-woven and embroidered fabric.  Others looked more like carpets.  Still others were embroidered furs.  The floors, too, were covered in layered furs and carpets.  Illumination was provided by globs of floating blue fire.  

Other than that, the room was empty.

“I was your doctor before, Great One.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.  Danny imagined that Frostbite was facing the same dilemma he was.  He couldn’t decide what to ask next.  He couldn’t decide what was safe to ask.  

“So, you’re a doctor?”  That seemed like a safe question.

“I am,” said Frostbite.  “Medicine for cold core ghosts is one of the specialties of my tribe.  When you have been ill or injured in the past, we have taken care of you.”

Danny hadn’t really thought all that much about the social structures of ghosts.  He remembered the Observants, and he had a vague recollection of kingdoms and tribes being a thing, but he was far more familiar with the workings of a republic, his human life taking precedence in this case.  He made a mental note to ask Frostbite more about how tribes worked later.  

“And I have a cold core like you?  That’s why you’re my doctor?”

“Yes,” said Frostbite.  

“Are we related?” asked Danny.  Frostbite’s tail - what Danny could see of it, anyway - wasn’t quite like Danny’s, but he did have white fur and pointed ears, so…

This question surprised a laugh out of Frostbite.  “It would be my honor, but, no, Great One.  Although we share some similarities, that is not one of them.”

“And you’re calling me Great One because…?”

“Because you saved my people, and, indeed, all the Infinite Realms, from a terrible fate when Plasmius released Pariah Dark, the old king of ghosts, from his prison.”

“The superhero thing?” asked Danny.  

Frostbite chuckled.  “I believe you referred to your tendencies as that a few times in my hearing.  You, and your friends.  But, truly, it would give me a great deal of peace if you let me make sure that you are, indeed, healthy, and that whatever technique they used to remove your memory has not damaged you unduly.”

“You could tell if it did?” asked Danny, suddenly a lot less reluctant.  

Frostbite nodded, gravely.  

“Okay,” said Danny.  “But I’m not sure if I can really handle it if the way there is as cold as the way here.”

“I will carry you,” said Frostbite.  “The medical bay itself is heated, to accommodate your human half, as are many of the rooms.”

Danny sighed in relief.  This would have been a very short visit if they hadn’t been.  This room was fine, but he didn’t like the idea of being confined to such a small space indefinitely.  

“And perhaps we could take one of these,” said Frostbite, pulling a thick, fluffy-looking fur from one of the walls.  “Just to add another layer between you and the cold.”

“Right,” said Danny, feeling nervous again as he contemplated being bundled up like that.  It was fine.  Clockwork was watching.  Monitoring.  Whatever.  He had the pocketwatch.  

It took a bit of maneuvering for Danny to get into a comfortable position, but once he did, Frostbite wasted no time pushing aside the thick, curtain-like door of the room and walking back out into the cold.  Danny drew in on himself, shivering, despite their precautions.  

(In a slightly less frigid environment, being held in Frostbite’s arms would have been downright cozy.  He made a note to experiment later.  If Frostbite was trustworthy enough for cuddles.)

“S-so,” said Danny, trying to take his mind off the cold.  “Wh-what did I do with Pariah D-Dark?”  Vlad had told him a version of the story, but he doubted it was complete, especially given that he’d failed to mention anything about who released Pariah Dark in the first place.  

“You rallied the ghosts of the Wastes,” said Frostbite.  “a veritable and largely lawless rabble.  You convinced them to fight, even convincing Walker and Dorathea of Mattingly to lend their power.  You led them against Pariah Dark’s thrall armies, and stormed his keep using a suit of armor that sapped your life even as it increased your power.  You fought the mad king one-on-one, and forced him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, whereupon Plasmius was able to lock him in again.  You very nearly died, you very nearly ended, and were willing to do so, in order to stop Pariah Dark.”

“H-huh,” said Danny.  He couldn’t really imagine doing something like that.  But it did more or less line up with what Vlad said… except that in Vlad’s story, Danny’s role had been less… prominent.  

They reached the medical bay, a large cave full of mysterious machinery, shortly after that, and Danny was again happy to find himself in relative warmth.  Frostbite started explaining the medical exams he wanted to carry out, and Danny listened half-heartedly.  

“Hey,” he said, during a lull between explanations.  “Do you think you could fix my amnesia?”

“It is not impossible,” said Frostbite, slowly, turning away from the thing he’d been fiddling with .  “But it would depend heavily on what method they used to give you that amnesia in the first place.  For example, Lethean waters are very effective and entirely irreversible.  On the other hand, they could have removed and stored your memories via a memory jar, in which case you would need to have that jar to recover your memories.  Alternatively, there are several ways by which your memories could be bound in place, or obscured.  However… attempting to restore your memories would be a blatant violation of the rules of this trial.”

“But would you try?”

“If you asked me to, Great One.”

Danny frowned and looked away.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Giving you a medical checkup?” asked Frostbite.  “Because I am concerned for your health.”

Danny waved that answer away, and forced himself to look back at Frostbite.  “No, I mean, why are you participating in this trial?  Why do you want custody of me?  I mean, if you’re just my doctor, that’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

Frostbite huffed.  “I do like to think of myself as more than ‘just’ your doctor.  I mentored you extensively after your ice powers developed.  I daresay you are one of my more successful students, at that, even if your, ah… first attempts at control were rough.”

“You know what I mean.  You call me ‘Great One,’ and that’s flattering and all, but it isn’t really a parental kind of thing, is it?”

“I suppose not,” said Frostbite.  “It would bring me nothing but joy if you did choose me, Great One, and I would do my utmost to live up to the task and dedicate myself to parenting you, but I do have something of an ulterior motive in joining this trial.”

“What is it?” asked Danny.  

“I came to warn you.”  Frostbite squared his shoulders.  “I never met your birth parents, only your sisters, but from your words and theirs…  I believe they harmed you, Great One.  Intentionally and repeatedly.  And I believe that it is their actions that necessitated this custody trial.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Danny.  “Why?  Why do you think that?”

“First,” said Frostbite, “you mentioned to me on several occasions that your parents were ghost hunters.”

“Oh.  Ow,” said Danny.  

“Secondly, a few times - only a few, but they stand out sharply in my memory -  you visited me for help after being affected by one of your parents’ weapons.  I have the records of those visits here.  You brushed aside my concerns regarding your parents then, saying that they did not know you would be harmed, or that the incidents were mere accidents.”

That… certainly sounded bad.  

“Thirdly, and finally, the existence of this custody trial in and of itself.  These are beyond uncommon, even considering the Observants’ interest in you.”  Frostbite’s snout wrinkled.  Speaking of which, you should be wary of them as well.”

“Already ahead of you on that one,” said Danny, thoughts racing.  “But I thought the reason for the custody hearing was that they were dead.”

Frostbite’s eyes widened slightly.  “Who told you that?  I know that at least one of them is participating.”

“What?” said Danny.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes.  My spy wasn’t able to be more specific than that, curse the Observants, but I have full confidence in them as a member of my tribe.”

“Do you know their names?  What they’re called, what they look like?” asked Danny.  

Frostbite shook his head.  “As I said, I never met them.”

“Maybe we can work it out by elimination, though,” said Danny.  “I could tell you the names of the other people on my list of candidates–”

Frostbite’s head-shaking became more frantic.  “Goodness, no.  I’m limited in how specific I can be about the…”  He sighed.  “Competition.”

“Right,” said Danny.  “But you just came to warn me?  That’s all?”

“And to give you some measure of safety.  I knew your parents were participating, I knew Plasmius would not miss the chance, and I haven’t a clue about who else might be involved.  I wanted you to have at least one safe option.”

That was nice and all, but Danny couldn’t help but feel a little put out.  He didn’t want to be an obligation that someone was picking up because they felt like they had to.  

He was probably just being ungrateful, though.  

“Great One?” asked Frostbite.  

“Hm?”

“I asked if you would like me to try to get your memories back.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  He thought about it for a while.  “No.  I don’t want you to get in trouble.  But maybe… could you find out what’s going on with my core?  And help me remember how to use those ice powers you mentioned?”

“Of course, Great One!  It would be my pleasure.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #fic

[loserharrington]

i’d like to preface this by saying i am not an expert on religion (or non-religion) this is simply information i’ve learned over the years of research and talking to those who do practice satanism. if i’ve got anything wrong feel free to correct me

with that being said, i’ve always had this idea that The Munson Doctrine followed the rules of the church of satan. be it the 9 satanic statements or the eleven satanic rules

eddie has a laveyan cross patch on his vest so he must practice satanism to some extent. Especially since it’s a pretty large patch in an obvious place.

it’s sort of complicated because it’s not really a religion but it’s still a practice. (one of personal freedom and rationalism.) it’s basically things he lives by to better himself and the way he interacts with others. the “rules” don’t need the approval of any deity because satanism rejects the idea of all gods. (it goes hand in hand with atheism) it simply encourages individuality, skepticism and living your life the way you want to no matter how “sinful” it may seem to others.

i think it’s safe to say eddie resonates with this. he’s seen blatantly rejecting and criticizing societal norms and questioning why he and his friends are seen as freaks and targeted because of their interests

now here’s where i start inferring things about how he practices

i’m sure he’s added to these rules (hence the name Munson Doctrine instead of a direct reference to the rules of the church of satan) but i think it still loosely follows those rules. eddie just seems like the sort of person who’d take something like this and make it his own, which is essentially what satanism is. (again, it’s not a religion so it doesn’t require specific rituals to be done)

or, he misunderstood or interpreted some of the rules given to him differently than others might’ve, which lead to the quote that started this whole rabbit hole i’ve fallen down.

Quote: “I just couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. … No way man, NO WAY, that like, flies in the face of the laws of the universe, and my own personal Munson Doctrine.”

i’m leaning toward the idea that he added his own rules and beliefs to the list because satanism encourages freedom and self expression, so he can essentially do whatever he’d like with his practice as long as he’s not infringing on the rights of others. (again, this would explain the name Munson Doctrine)

he might have added things (such as bullies/bystanders never changing. i.e: steve harrington now being a good dude when, in eddie’s eyes, he wasn’t before) because of his own experiences with people like that. [read here for more on that]

regardless of what he might’ve added or why, i do think that the Munson Doctrine is something he actively lives by. (ignoring the fact it could have just been a joke he threw in there to express his shock on how much his perception of steve had changed)

now here’s the fun part. my head canon i built off of this head canon.

i like to think that eddie didn’t come up with the munson doctrine on his own. his mother might’ve been a big influence in why he practices laveyan satanism.

now here’s why i think that:

1. it’s obvious eddie has some sort of ill feelings about his father, going as far as to say he told himself he didn’t want to “wind up like he did”.

this could just be him referencing the fact his father has been incarcerated for various crimes or it could be him referring to his character as a whole including his religion

this ties into fact that we see Wayne (who we assume is Eddie’s father’s brother due to their last names) is actively religious — at least enough to have religious decor around the trailer so it’s safe to say the munson brothers grew up religious

2. we know absolutely nothing about eddie’s mother which means i can make it all up !

eddie referring to his personal beliefs as his “Munson Doctrine” could imply that he’s not the only munson who follows these rules. he does say it’s his “personal” doctrine so i will choose to believe that is in reference to the new things he’s added as he’s grown up and experienced more things in his life

but before then, his mother could have instilled rules into him that he still follows to this day. rules such as these:

i just love the idea that eddie still has some connection to his mother and this is just one of the ways he honors her, but the idea of eddie finding comfort in satanism later in his life due to feeling alienated by the people of Hawkins because he’s different is just as good

in conclusion:

i choose to believe the munson doctrine wasn’t just a silly throw away line, and it ties into the religion he seems to practice

#stranger things #eddie munson #character analysis #eddie munson character analysis #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things 4 #the munsons #the munson doctrine #steve/eddie #steve x eddie #☕️

[cinna-bunnie]

here's my scattered, ranty, kind of shitty take on “vote blue no matter who”: i have been painfully aware of how fucked up our country is since Trayvon Martin was killed and the country just came together and said it was fine and deserved even.

We were the same age, he was a month older than me and they justified that boy's death through the media for doing mundane shit any of my friends would've been doing too.

And i have seen year after year, death after death, this country let's people get murdered by police or people who want to play police and they get away with it almost every time.

Most of white America doesn't give a single fuck about this issue because it doesn't affect them, they would prefer if we didn't have to see or talk about it at all because talking about race (or anything outside the “norm” for white people) at all is uncomfortable.

Now as shitty as he was, the silver lining I saw in Trump is that white people were no longer able to escape how evil this country can be. Like hey!! When the state sees YOU as undesirable TOO it really has a way of bringing people together - in resistance, solidarity, support etc. Trump was a trash ass president, but as A Country we were FINALLY having some real, honest open discussions about the way this shit works and what better options could look like - even tried implementing some changes so we're less reliant on cops in some places. Ironically, it's when leadership is at its worst that we choose to move forward collectively.

But then in the run-up to the presidential election all the vote blue no matter who liberals, the back to brunch liberals, all of them hounded anybody with even the slightest skepticism or dislike of our candidates and even now make it impossible to have any critical conversation without coming in like “do u want trump/ron/[whatever republican that applies] to win?? we HAVE to vote it's our ONLY choice the world is going to END”

THIS IS HOW IT IS LITERALLY EVERY ELECTION, IF THE STAKES ARE REGULARLY THIS HIGH SOMETHING IS FUNDAMENTALLY BROKEN HERE.

Vote blue no matter who and back to brunch liberals have fucking brain worms and are the most useless helpless political group. I remember them saying we HAVE to get Joe Biden in then pull him to the left, just this one time bro just this one vote bro I promise. All of the solidarity we've had and all the support we've shown won't instantly vanish the second we're safe we promise we won't leave you behind again just one more vote bro-

maybe go to hell?? maybe we should fucking LOSE and have fear and suffering inflicted on us to make that solidarity an actual, real persistent thing that transcends presidencies. My shitty take is sometimes it IS helpful to have horrific leadership so the privileged class can see how it feels to be ANYONE ELSE for a change. And you would hope they fucking learn something but all the back to brunch liberals are hijacking posts speaking frankly about israel's ongoing genocide and the US's complicity in it, and making the conversation about having to vote for Biden or whatever Democrat anyways.

We don't even have elections coming up right now!! Read the fucking room!! Biden is greenlighting genocide and so are a bunch of other politicians on both sides of the aisle, but back to brunch liberals can't be bothered with ANYTHING. Any sort of valid criticism at all is shut down with "well, choices suck but you HAVE to vote” actually in my heart I think you have to suffer until we get some better fucking choices and you actually help advocate for them, instead of being this useless recurring presence that only shows up to shut down conversation instead of wanting to actually fix anything.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Call me out if I’m wrong here, but I feel like sometimes, when you’re in this fandom, there’s a lot of contradictory?

I feel like not that long ago people were upset that others were saying they didn’t like something, so wording changed.

I do believe that we should be honest on whether or not we like something (while being kind/gracious about it), but that might be the reason why some people are more nervous to just come out and say it?

Again I may be so incredibly wrong; I’ve been dipping my toes in and out of the fandom for a while now.

I think you have a valid point. There's a lot of people in the fandom, and we have different opinions, some of which contradict each other. Sometimes one view dominates, then the other. We vacillate and change, which is only natural.

Regarding the recent wording change, I'm not sure what specific thing that was in response to--there was some conversation in the vein of "if you don't like it, why are you here?" Which was more in response to the overwhelming negativity the series has started to accrue with the long interims, its current direction, and fans getting older. The sort of "people don't want to hear about how much you hate the thing they love." Even if you've established yourself as a fan of it previously.

Which I think can coexist alongside simply saying you don't like something. I can say the new cover isn't really hitting for me without tearing it apart and making those who really enjoy it feel bad, you know? I don't mind it, understand why it's like that, and appreciate Jason Chan's artistic prowess, but that doesn't make it interesting to look at.

But you're right, there's been this push to justify why you dislike things, at least in online spaces. So it's harder/makes people nervous to say "I just don't like this." Myself included. Instead it's "this was rushed" "this was last minute" "Shannon's publishers are pressuring her" "her editor's are pressuring her" etc.

Which, again, is entirely possible. Writing and publishing is hard; it takes a lot of work and pleasing the industry isn't easy. But there are points where--I think--people approach it with bad faith.

To use the cover as an example again, a lot of people are saying it's rushed. Possible. But is there a history of rushing covers? Not that we've seen, all the others have been spectacular, detailed, and thorough. What would they gain by rushing it? They could meet deadlines sooner, have something to share with the audience since we're in a weird period. But they could also damage their marketing with a subpar product, especially given the series' popularity. Why do we think the cover looks rushed? Its simplicity, its different mood. But, again, Shannon said that was intentional. There's Keefe's appearance, which is really hit or miss for people. I don't think Keefe not looking as attractive as people imagine/want is a result of rushing, but because there's an impossible standard for him as The Boy of the series. And so on and so forth.

The point of that being we've come to this conclusion, I think, hastily. While book 9.5 wasn't the original plan so of course timelines change, I don't think S&S has a history or motive to rush. There's already an established precedent for delays when necessary, the cover came out later than others, and there's (i think) a solid, purposeful reason the mood is different.

Could I be wrong? Absolutely. But the rapidity of the conclusion and with how much it feels we've been outsourcing our dislike the past few years I'm started to feel a little skeptical. Boy who cried wolf kinda thing. Was it rushed again, or do we just not like it? Feels like a slapstick explanation without further examination

And of course you don't have to analyze everything, but some things are a bit more complex, you know?

Point is: I think we're overusing these explanations (pressured, rushed) and at this point if we don't delve further into it it starts to lose its meaning. There is an argument for being rushed and pressured! But without getting into it, I can't tell if we're thinking it through or just avoiding saying we don't like something for fear of judgment/reprisal.

#kotlc #long post #quil's queries #nonsie #I hope this makes sense #i haven't fully articulated this before because I became most aware of it with the new cover #i'd seen it but brushed it off prior #especially with the graphic novel because i DO think that one was rushed #but with this it just reached a point where I'm like. okay. IS it rushed or are we just saying that #as a genuine invitation to think about it #i'm not saying i'm right and everyone's wrong or that it's impossible there's pressure and rushing #just like a. have we considered everything before continuing with this conclusion or are we defaulting to it #does that make sense? #i was to be very clear this is a non-judgement post and not intended to antagonize anyone or make anyone feel bad

[thebroccolination]

Hey, just wanted to say that I'm really thankful to you for all the posts you've made about Krist so far

I didn't know him at all before BMF and only slowly "learned" about him through some people making snide comments about him before the show aired and people in the tags/comments then reiterating all the reasons why he's awful and should be cancelled with links to those standard "proof" compilation videos + posts and it's terrifyingly easy to get caught up in the hate spiral and the image it paints when that's all you hear about a person who at that point in time merely existed in the periphery of the fandoms you hung out in, especially if the people constantly spreading and reinforcing that image were people you used to really enjoy having on your dash. It made me apprehensive of the show before it even aired, which did both the show and Krist a terrible disservice

Your posts gave me a much more nuanced picture of him and the context within which the hatred got started and has kept persisting even now and it's really been a bit of an eye-opener regarding Fandom Discourse™️ and how it can influence your opinion of people you know nothing about even as you try to just mind your own business, possibly even thinking yourself somewhat immune to that sort of mindless cancel culture

I've made some adjustments to my dash and it has become a much kinder place for it now

I'm glad other people I follow also actively loved the show and posted about it and I'm glad you've been so vocal in talking about Krist as a person, it acted like an antidote to all of the vitriol that had one-sidedly poisoned my perception of him

Should it have been necessary? Probably not but that's not what this is about. Sometimes all it takes is one person speaking up and telling you to fact-check your blind bias and it really matters, especially when things have been taken out of context and twisted and amplified as much as was done with him. Thank you for unknowingly being that person for me, I truly appreciate it

Oh, Anon. :')

Thank you so much. I've teared up reading this, and it just makes me so happy to know I've done something small to change hearts.

When I became a fan in June of 2020, I barely knew him. I'd binge-watched SOTUS in May, and the hate went supernova shortly thereafter. I'd just been so moved by his empathetic portrayal of Arthit, I was skeptical that he could be this Deeply Homophobic Bigot that people were painting him as. And honestly, when I saw the IG story the first time, I just thought it had been a half-joking exaggeration to a question that annoyed him and it landed poorly. It wasn't enough to convince me of anything.

Fortunately, because I'd done a watch thread for SOTUS, I'd made a bunch of friends in the Peraya fandom, and a good number of them were queer like me. So I went to them and asked what they knew. They explained the whole thing: that it was from years before, that because KristSingto were the ones who started the "First Wave" they'd put up with a whole higher and wilder level of scrutiny and obsession and homophobia. They told me Krist had had a relationship with a girl at the time, that she and her family, his family, his friends, everyone close to him was being spied on or investigated by people who Needed to Know if Krist was secretly dating Singto. (Later, I found out about the whole KristGun thing, that their friendship had been tested by similar prying and accusations and homophobia and possessiveness by the more unhinged fans of the Real Branded Pairs.)

With that much background, and knowing Krist couldn't have been more than 19 or 20 at the time, I said, "Oh," and figured most people would have the same reaction when they looked into it.

But instead, it got worse.

It was surreal to experience as a new fan. Krist's Thai fans were exhausted by these interfans showing up and baying for his blood in languages they couldn't communicate in, and Krist's interfans were protective of him and impatient with the interfans on Twitter who'd just clap back with "LMAO NOT YOU DEFENDING A HOMOPHOBE?????" and racking up hundreds of likes and retweets for dunking on Krist fans. Any time Krist posted, they'd flood him with cruel replies and QRTs, and I have to reiterate that, like, to get that amount of hatred in foreign languages must have been such a horrible feeling. People demanded he apologize, but he already had. Multiple times. He'd just done it in Thai.

Worse than that, I've been told by an older Peraya that when the IG story was first posted, Thai fans knew he wasn't homophobic, so it didn't blow up with them. It was interfans even back then who misinterpreted him. He did apologize, though, and unfortunately, the fandom was small enough that the only person who translated it was neither fluent in English nor Thai. Apparently he said something like, "I was raised in the genre of Y series, and it's my home, and one I'm deeply proud of, so I'd never harbor any kind of bigotry like that," but the person's language ability limited what they were able to understand and translate, so they posted something like, "I'm a BL actor so of course I'm not homophobic," and of course interfans at the time only redoubled their attacks on him. "He thinks he can't be homophobic just because he was in BL!?" That kind of thing.

And when people have pushed back on the IG story, I've seen people just make bad faith interpretations of Krist's intentions in other scenarios. Like when he and Gawin were watching their sweet scenes in Be My Favorite, Krist hid behind Gawin's shoulder during their kiss scene, and there was a brief but enthusiastic wave of, "SEE HE CAN'T WATCH TWO MEN KISS." Even though…he was one of them?

The people who say, "He was jobless so he came back to BL," when he rarely has a day off, the people who say, "He was poor so he came back to BL," when BL doesn't pay well and Krist bought a house and supports his entire family off the money he makes doing other work. The music shows he co-hosts have higher ratings than literally any GMMTV BL series. They get something like 2.0 where the average GMMTV BL series gets 0.2.

I know it takes time and patience and resources to learn all of this, and I don't expect everyone to do the amount of research I have. I love him, so it's a pleasure and not a pain to spend time learning who Krist Perawat is. All I've ever wanted by talking about him and sharing more about him is to help lessen the hate he gets. He truly, truly doesn't deserve it, and he never has.

Like, Aof recently posted a GMMTV job listing to Facebook and one of the requirements was that you be a woman or LGBTQ+. I think the only way you'd remain employed in GMMTV with that level of community support if you were homophobic is if your family is well-connected or wealthy. Krist famously cleared his family's debt with the meteoric popularity of SOTUS, so he does not come from money, privilege, or connections. Arguably the one thing he had going for him when he was auditioning for SOTUS apart from his acting talent was his ability to Be Pale if he avoided the sun long enough. (Colorism, alive and thriving.)

So, so many of his friends are queer. His close friends. Not just random people he posts in his stories for clout or to Clear His Name or whatever. These are people who cuddle him and call him their son and speak of him with true knowledge of his faults and his virtues and love him deeply. People dismiss this as, "OH SO HE 'HAS QUEER FRIENDS' LOL OKAY SOUNDS LEGIT," but again, you have to look at the depth of these friendships. Oat has been with Krist since SOTUS. He "adopted" Gawin on the strength of how close Gawin got to Krist over the past year.

As far as I know, Krist has never made his sexuality public knowledge. What he has said (apart from the IG story, which, y'know, wasn't super nuanced) is that he doesn't care how people perceive his sexuality, and that if he ever dates someone of the same gender, he'll be open with the relationship because he wants his fans to know that side of his life and the person he loves—no matter their gender.

I see a lot of people saying, "Oh, he was homophobic, but he's better now," but from everything I've ever seen, I just don't believe it. At best, he was clumsy with how he expressed himself, which is understandable because he was nineteen or twenty and I'm sorry to be Like This but it is rare that you find an Overnight Famous Twenty-Year-Old Guy Without Media Training who's going to know how to communicate his feelings about being constantly harassed to the point where his girlfriend breaks up with him and he's bombarded with questions in multiple languages by fans around the world about his sex life with his senior and costar.

(I got to this point and was like, "I should add some photos so this isn't just a block of text.)

He's not homophobic, he never was. He's just a dude who loves his cats, is really good at acting and drumming and singing and causing chaos, is the beloved baby brother of PeBaCa, and wants more than anything to take care of his family.

Okay, I'm done.

Thank you again, Anon. The more I learn about him, the fonder I get of him, and it's harder and harder to stay quiet about how frustrating it is to see him get so much vitriol. I'm so happy you told me. Thank you, really. <3

……………

Okay.

I have to end this tangent on a positive note.

GMMTV, give me a KristGun series I'm so serious or I'll throw durians through every single one of your windows.

#kiranokira answers #krist perawat #kristgun #kidding #or am i

[smoments]

(part 2) memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

❝ let's meet again, for the first time. ❞

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.

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╰┈➤ in which 19-year-old gojo satoru happens upon a supposed stranger on a rare coffee shop trip who feels like anything but that, and who makes him question everything he's ever known about soulmates.

➽ chapter 2: the return visit

“So, you called me all the way here to tell me that you had an epiphany about some guy you saw at a coffee shop?”

Shoko is seated across from Satoru, sipping a latte and perfecting the art of exuding energy that is equally skeptical and unbothered. He could point out that they’re a breath away from campus and she usually walks in this direction anyways, but instead he sighs dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He wasn’t ‘some guy’! I knew him!” He protests, his voice laced with indignace. Shoko stares into the slot of the lid on her paper cup, shutting one eye and holding it up to her face like a telescope, and then shakes her head as though she just caught a glimpse into Satoru’s potentially troubling future and not at the last dregs of her coffee.

“Satoru, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I felt it, Shoko! It was, like, a soul connection!” He insists, his palm flat against his heart for emphasis that she appears to miss- if her derisive snort is anything to go by.

“Oh, really? What, you think you knew him in another life? That you were reincarnated just so you could see him again?”

Satoru doesn’t like the way this sounds, nor the way it resonates deep in his chest, and he contorts his face into one of mild disgust.

“No way, i’m not some loser.” A tense silence hangs in the air between them as they maintain eye contact, Shoko’s gaze steady and almost unnervingly impassive- as though she’s used to staring people down. Unfortunately for Satoru, not only is he less experienced with such matters, but his objectively gorgeous eyes are sensitive to the sun; which is why he relents after a few beats, breathing a sigh of exasperation.

“Yes.”

Shoko’s face softens ever so slightly, but in the way that one’s might upon realizing they are face to face with a mentally ill psychiatric patient. Satoru had been hoping for something a little more compassionate.

“You really have lost it.” She murmurs almost to herself, her tone sympathetic.

“What?!” Satoru’s head snaps towards her, and with the slight narrow of his eyes and the way his lips are clearly seconds away from a pout, she thinks that he looks vaguely like a petulant toddler and has to stifle her laughter.

“Nothing. Anyways, Satoru, I don’t see what the big deal is. Why don’t you just go back there and talk to him?” She suggests with a casual flick of her hand, which absolutely baffles Satoru.

Despite the apparent ease with which he approaches most things- people, school, work- he is not above caring, and, contrary to popular belief, never has been. However, he has learned throughout the course of his 19 years that the excess of emotional vulnerability with which most people happily traipse around is not for him, and so he chooses to embrace the fact that his life is out of his control rather than objecting to it and getting hurt in the process. Some might call it frivolous, but he thinks they’re just jealous. 

Either way, given that Shoko has grown rather accustomed to his behavior, it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise to him that she expects him to remain loyal to his tried-and-true ways in the case of this mysterious stranger- but for Satoru, it feels like a different realm entirely; something that he’ll have to reshape his mind around. 

Shoko notices that his expression is unusually thoughtful and lifts an quizzical eyebrow, waiting for some sort of explanation, so he lifts his hands to the back of his head in a languid stretch, trying to summon some of his usual cockiness.

“Hm… yeah, I think I will.” he says, forcing confidence into his voice in an attempt to alleviate his uncharacteristic worry.

Shoko nods approvingly. “You do that.” She glances down at the empty cup in her hand, her expression somewhat absent, and Satoru finally notices the dark half-circles carved out beneath her eyes. Blinking in surprise, he traces her movements inconspicuously and picks out a touch of sluggishness in the way she lifts a hand to her bangs to brush them out of her face- but he thinks better of commenting on either for lack of anything he can do to help. Even if he’d been going solely off of the size of the medical textbooks Shoko carried around, or from the sleepless nights she’d spend studying for her exams, he could have preached to any unfortunate soul he knew about how draining the path to becoming a doctor was. 

“I’ve got a research paper to write for bio, so i’ll talk to you later.” Shoko eases herself into a standing position, swinging her bag over her shoulder, and turns on her heel to leave before hesitating briefly. Her fingers tighten around the paper cup in her hand, and the thin walls give ever so slightly.

“Good luck, Satoru.” Her tone holds an undercurrent of sincerity, and Satoru can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips as he waves her off.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.” He replies in his breezy fashion, leaning back in his seat and watching as she visibly resists the urge to roll her eyes before striding towards her dorm. Once Shoko is out of sight, Satoru stands, briefly stretching against the table to hype himself up, and attempts to gather his thoughts.

As has become commonplace in the days since he first encountered Suguru, his mind returns to that soft gaze.

To the unnervingly familiar way he’d said his name.

Frustration rising within him, his hand goes to the crown of his head, grazing a stray lock of hair as he tries to figure out just where he could have seen that man before.

And he may be Gojo Satoru, intelligent beyond common understanding and talented beyond belief, but the thought that Shoko’s dismissive words held even a fragment of truth in them does not cross his mind for a second. 

Satoru is back. His hands tucked loosely into the pockets of the tan coat he wore during his last visit, he stares up at the sign in front of the coffee shop, wondering why they chose such large, intimidating letters to represent a drink establishment. The words loom down on him, just foreboding enough to annoy him- to spite him into yanking a hand out of his pocket and clasping it around the silver metal handle of the door, cool against his fingers. He pulls it open and steps inside, realizing a little too late that the chances of Suguru being here are slim; after all, he probably doesn’t work a full-time job if he’s a college student, the way Satoru hopes. 

He silently resigns himself to another hot chocolate and a return trip, simultaneously not wanting to get his hopes up too much and annoyed at the fact that it should affect him at all.

However, when his eyes go to the menu, the familiar and not entirely unpleasant scent of coffee and pastries wafting over him, the glint of a black earring pulls his gaze downwards, and he’s met with the same lovely juxtaposition of features- that sharp face and its impossibly gentle aura- that affected him so greatly the last time he stepped foot into this shop. Suguru is wiping down a display case with a damp cloth, his movements somehow smooth and methodical even in the simple act.

Satoru’s breath catches, but this time, he quickly shakes himself off and advances to the counter, thanking his luck that the shop is considerably quieter at this time of day. He wouldn’t be too bothered at a few dirty looks, but it’s hardly his preference to be glared by hungry customers on their too-short lunch breaks while attempting to strike up a conversation with a barista.

His nails dig into his palm as he clenches his fist, leaving crescent-shaped indents in his skin that are hidden by the lining of his pockets, but he barely notices the pain.

When Satoru stops in front of the counter, the sound of his shoes padding against the hardwood floor alerts Suguru, who turns toward him, tossing the cloth over his aproned shoulder. His eyes light up in pleasant, but not necessarily surprised, recognition.

“Satoru, right?”

He’d thought he was prepared for the smoothness of his voice, but he’s not sure how anybody could be. Satoru swallows, nodding haltingly.

“You remember me?” he asks without thinking, and instantly regrets it when amusement flits across Suguru’s features.

“Well, you have a rather striking appearance.” 

“…Oh.” Satoru disguises his disappointment, wondering briefly what he wanted Suguru to recognize him by. His odd behavior? His glowing personality? In all fairness, he’s not convinced the latter came through in their last interaction, so perhaps his beauty isn’t too bad a place to start. 

“What can I get for you today?” Suguru steadies his hands against the edge of the counter, his thumbs tapping gently against the surface in a slow, soft rhythm that is music to Satoru’s ears. His hands are pretty, too, he thinks, artful in their roughness- almost unfairly so. He forces his gaze to Suguru’s face. The question he’s been wanting to ask finally escapes his parted lips, shattering at his feet like a final wall of security that he has just destroyed with his forthrightness- but then again, he was never one for security.    

“…When do you get off?”

Suguru’s features open up in surprise, his eyebrows lifting and lips parting silently in a way that feels particularly genuine to Satoru, the expression wholly unfiltered.

“Me…? At three.”

“Great. Do you like coffee at all?”

“No, that’s why I work in a cafe.” Suguru’s lips twitch into a semblance of a teasing smile, and Satoru lets out an involuntary laugh, his shoulders relaxing as some of the tension drains from his body. A smirk lingers on his face when he speaks again.

“Well, assuming you remember anything about me besides my face, I came to return a favor.” Words come easier with his newfound calm, and so he informs Suguru of his intentions nonchalantly, opening his palms in an ‘it-can’t-be-helped’ kind of gesture that makes the other smile.

“Favor? …Oh, I see.” Suguru doesn’t acknowledge his snide remark, though the upward tilt of his lips doesn’t correct itself either. He brushes his hands together to dust them off as he speaks, a hint of curiosity on his face. “There’s no need, really, but if you insist.”

“Ha! I do, actually. Ten minutes to three, right? Can I get one hot chocolate and one of whatever your favorite is? Also-“

He’s about to add on two slices of strawberry shortcake, but something gives him pause, an inkling of an idea that jumps out at him from the back of his mind. He can’t quite discern what it’s telling him, but nevertheless, it’s enough that he decides against the dessert.

“Never mind. I’ll be waiting, Suguru.”

#satosugu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen au #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satoru x suguru #crying screaming throwing up #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #alternate universe #coffee shop au #reincarnation

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Friday

Thanks for the tags @spotsandsocks @achillesbuck @alyxmastershipper @ajunerose 🥰

Tagging @elvensorceress @fatedbuddie @buddierights @shortsighted-owl @alysiswriting @this-is-bwr

Earlier this week there was a fantastic post from @rose-buddie on a topic I think about quite a bit. So, for this Fuck it Friday I'm sharing some Eddie & his queer feelings* from my fic Whatever may come (your heart I will choose)

yes it's lengthy, but... context *Adding the usual caveats about this being my take on things. It's incredibly personal and everyone will have their own opinions. Enjoy and be nice to one another 💙

“When will you come to visit, Edmundo?” 

“Maybe when I’m sure you and Mom won’t try to trap me there,” Eddie retorts. He thinks he should feel bad about it, but he really doesn’t. He’s got a great life, with people who love him, right where he is. He’s tired of being made to feel guilty for not staying in El Paso. “You can come here, too.” 

“We’ve been there!” his mother protests.

Almost a year ago when I got my shield.  

“It doesn’t matter, we’re not talking about this now.” Eddie puts his phone on speaker so he can take his frustrations out on the dishes in his sink. Naturally, his parents move on to an equally grating topic.

“So,” Helena begins, “have you met anyone? A nice girlfriend you haven’t told us about?”

“Not really time to do that, Mom. Kinda busy with work and Christopher.” He scrubs at a plate coated with dried eggs and cheese instead of telling them that, yes, he has met someone and, no, they don’t need to know anything else. He knows better. One way or another they’ll break him down until he says more and that will only open the floodgates to an entirely different son they didn’t know they had. 

With hardly any effort on their part, it’s the thing that breaks him anyway. 

The ringing in his ears grows louder, drowning out whatever his mother and father are carrying on about. Maybe a neighbor, or one of his sisters? All he knows is the white noise and the constricting sensation building under his ribcage. It feels like it’s taking up too much room, crushing vital organs, and simultaneously hollowing him out.

Eddie doesn’t remember hanging up the phone, or dropping the plate. He remembers angrily scraping at globs of stuck on cheddar and coming back around on his kitchen floor next to shattered glass, hearing water still flowing from the faucet. 

He tentatively sits up, inspecting his palms and forearms for stray bits of debris and scratches. There’s nothing he can see, just the way his hands shake when he holds them up. His head doesn’t hurt, but his back is stiff. How long was he down and out?

Eddie inhales through his nose, and forcefully exhales through his mouth. Again, and once more before he feels like he’s really come back to himself. His watch tells him only five or so minutes have passed. Only when his phone buzzes on the counter does he finally make himself stand, brushing off his jeans to see it’s his parents calling. They’ve called six times and left three voicemails. He should pick up the phone and call them back, so they don’t worry. He should. He will. Just not yet. He needs a minute – maybe a lifetime – to sort through what the fuck just happened. To identify why continuing to hide what his parents already don’t know made… whatever that was occur. 

His phone buzzes again, only this time it’s his tiá, and he’s at least smart enough not to ignore her.

“Eddito, I just got a call from your Papá. What happened? He said they heard a crash and then nothing.” 

“I’m fine. Really,” he insists. “ Just trying to do too many things at once.”

She hums skeptically, and he’s sure if he could see her face she would be frowning. He probably would, too, if he were her. 

“You know you can tell me. You don’t have to keep it to yourself.”

He knows he could tell her. It’s not as if she and Abuela don’t already know about Buck. Hell, they probably knew before he did. Abuela and Pepa both cried and hugged him and, when they calmed down enough, demanded he bring Buck for dinner. They both understood that they were among the first to find out, other than Lena and Maddie, and vowed to keep quiet until he was ready. 

“I will,” Eddie promises. “I’m just still figuring some stuff out.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. See you for Sunday dinner?”

“Of course. I’ll see you boys then.”

Eddie ends the call and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms like it’ll keep all these too-big feelings from escaping. He tries to dig into them a bit, sort through the fog and overwhelm. It only serves to make him more frustrated that he can’t put a name to what’s bothering him, to the cavernous ache that forms in his chest when he thinks about sharing Buck with the rest of his family. Eventually, defeated and irritable, he sighs, pushing off the counter to find the broom and dustpan. 

❤️❤️❤️

He doesn’t tell Buck about what happened with the phone call and the broken dish. Not at first. It isn’t until nearly two weeks later that he decides to say something. Because it inadvertently ends up being Buck who gives Eddie the push he needs. 

Eddie’s just gotten home from dropping Christopher at school and Buck is spending a few hours with Maddie. He intends to spend the time finalizing the grocery list, catching up on laundry, and changing the oil in the truck. He decides to start with the truck so he goes to the bedroom to put on some rattier clothes. When he tosses his henley to the bed, he spots the greenish-blue cover on Buck’s nightstand. Curious, he walks over to see what Buck’s reading now, expecting to find something on an ancient civilization or a biography on Nikola Tesla. Instead, it’s neither of those. Not even close. Eddie stares, a little dumbfounded, at the cartoonish pink lettering overlaying a drawing of two boys standing side by side, their backs to the viewer, and a scattering of pink leaves. 

He picks up the book – Heartstopper Volume 1 – intending to flip through the first few pages and get a feel for what it’s about. A graphic novel isn’t exactly what he expects, or anything he thinks Buck would be interested in. It looks too mature to be something Buck might have bought for Christopher. Eddie doesn’t think he’s read an actual book since he enlisted, much less anything like this. As a kid he enjoyed the comics in the Sunday newspaper, or borrowing copies of Captain America and X-Men from the library, but that was it. 

Instead of stopping, he continues reading, getting absorbed in Nick and Charlie’s story. Two teenage boys, riddled with insecurities, hiding themselves as much as their affection for each other. He carries it to the kitchen when he makes a sandwich for lunch, and then to the back porch when he’s full. It’s where Buck finds him hours later, sitting quietly on the steps with the closed book on his lap.

“Hey, Eds,” Buck says quietly, sitting next to him and bumping their shoulders together. “What, uh, what’s going on? I texted a few times while I was with Maddie. Guess you didn’t see any of those.”

Eddie wants to tell him that he must have forgotten his phone when he was getting changed, or that he’s sorry and hopes he didn’t miss anything urgent. Instead he stares blankly ahead and says, “I broke one of the salad plates.”

“Uh, okay. That’s- no big deal. It’s not like we have to replace the whole set or anything.”

He finally turns to look at Buck, noting the way his eyebrows are raised and he’s biting his bottom lip nervously. Underneath Buck’s anxious exterior, Eddie still sees what he’s always found there. You’re safe. I’ve got your back. You matter. So Eddie tells him about the phone call with his parents, the chasm in his chest when he thinks about telling them he’s not just friends with Buck – that they’re in a romantic, committed relationship.

“I didn’t know how to put words to it – this feeling – to define what it is. I’m not sure I know any better now, either. The thing is,” Eddie continues, “when I’m with you, I’m safe. When we’re out with Chris, holding hands and just… being together, it’s ordinary in the best fucking way. The three of us being a family is easier than breathing. There’s nothing to think about, it makes sense . I don’t feel any different. I’m not any different. I’m still me and yet with my parents I’m… not me? Like I’m continually locking a piece of myself away for their benefit and holding my breath until they’re gone. Does that make sense?”

“More than you know.” Buck doesn’t elaborate and Eddie doesn’t push for an explanation. Eddie knows he’ll say something when he’s ready. 

“It’s kinda why I bought the book,” Buck adds, nodding toward Eddie’s lap. “Maybe it’s not a great reason, but so many people were raving about it online, and talking about how they wished they had something similar as teenagers. It wasn’t, like, FOMO or anything. Just- I knew I had to.”

Christ, what Eddie would give to have had anything like it then. Maybe, reading about someone like Nick — the popular rugby player who struggles with his image and sexuality — would have made it easier to have hope. Instead, it was all stories following the AIDS crisis and celebrities being called “brave” for coming out publicly. Even those positive moments felt more like flickers, sparks lost in an endless night sky. Like Luke. 

After Buck’s accident, reading the letter and reliving memories of Luke was like examining artifacts left over from another time. A moment that happened to a long forgotten, shut away version of himself. Attempting to sift through them now, knowing what he knows, is akin to tiptoeing through a minefield. At the other end there’s a sixteen-year-old edition of Eddie asking – begging – permission to speak. Seeking answers for questions he didn’t know could be posed, and wanting to define feelings using words that didn’t exist yet. At least not in his world. Not in El Paso where, even if someone was some flavor of queer, it was kept in the shadows. There was an unspoken rule that it wasn’t discussed. It wasn’t a thing to be proud of. Or a way of life that Eddie ever saw as attainable for himself, even as coming out became more mainstream. After Shannon got pregnant, after Christopher was born, Eddie had his marching orders so to speak. He had a wife, and a son, and anything he desired before became irrelevant. Wiped away. Erased. 

“Grief again,” Eddie mutters, with a sudden clarity. 

Buck scrunches his eyebrows, understandably confused. “Uh, what did I miss?

Eddie checks his watch, they still have time before they have to get Chris. He quickly stands and holds his hand out to Buck. 

“Can I show you something?”

His hands shake the tiniest bit as he leads Buck back to his – their? – bedroom. “If you, uh, want to sit you can. I just need to get something from the safe.”

Eddie stands in front of the closet, his quivering fingers poised to open it. It shouldn’t be a big deal to pull a door open, but right now it feels damn near impossible. Buck lightly touches Eddie’s sides, alerting him to his presence so Eddie isn’t startled. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and hooks his chin over Eddie’s shoulder, surrounds him. 

“Eds, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Buck’s voice is low and soothing in his ear. “Whatever it is.”

“No, it’s not that. I do want to.” Eddie tries to give himself permission to relax into Buck’s embrace, to let it settle him until the trembling stills and his heart doesn’t feel like it’s trying to escape his chest. “Um, there was an accident. A car accident.”

“You mean Shannon?” Buck asks when Eddie doesn’t say anything more for nearly a minute. 

He sighs and scrubs at his forehead, frustrated that speaking — one of the most basic human skills — is so complicated at times. Eddie wants to keep facing the wall, to stay hidden, but Buck deserves better than that. Buck’s hands land at Eddie’s waist once he’s turned around and they can see each other. 

“Um, not Shannon. Fuck, now that I’ve started talking out loud, this seems like… a terrible idea.” 

Buck‘s hands move to Eddie’s face, carefully cradling him, and sweeping his thumbs back and forth across his cheekbones. “Hey, remember what I said? All your baggage. Anything. Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie nods, taking a deep breath before he continues. “So, obviously Shannon and I were together for a long time. Since we were kids, basically. Like some great first love kinda deal. But she wasn’t that, not really. Not the first anyway.”

Eddie feels the impulse to run, to get as far from this conversation as possible. He knows what they said about having each other’s back, and taking on all their emotional “stuff”. That doesn’t make it any easier to say the words out loud. Even with Buck resting his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, patiently waiting for him to speak again. 

“His name was Luke,” Eddie finally says. “He started at my high school in the beginning of junior year. His family had just moved from Vermont to be closer to his aunt and cousins and all that. Anyway, we started hanging out, became best friends. And then- we were more than that.” Eddie pauses, trying not to get caught in the tangle of memories. If the lump in his throat is any indication, he’s pretty sure his efforts are failing. “It was, um, a very different time. A different place. We hid everything, from everyone. Our parents, friends, people in general.”

“That’s… awful. What happened?” Buck asks quietly. 

“A late 80’s pickup truck happened. Driving home from school and the other driver ran the red light. Died instantly. I never really thought about it before, but I guess that’s probably a big part of why I felt compelled to become an Army medic and always wanted to do something that helped people. I was reading that book today and it all just kinda hit me. I went to his memorial service, like all the other kids. Just another classmate paying their respects.” Eddie lets out an irritated huff, feeling the past resentment bubble up. “Funeral was for family only. I couldn’t mourn or grieve the way I wanted. The way I needed. Fuck, I couldn’t even talk to the stupid guidance counselor at school.”

“That must have been rough. How did you deal with it all?” 

“Same thing as always, I guess. Threw myself into schoolwork, asked for more hours at my job, kept busy. Basically I didn’t deal with it. Just told everyone I was fine and moved on.” 

“But you didn’t,” Buck says, more an observation than an accusation. “Move on, I mean.”

“No, not really.” 

Buck bites his bottom lip and pinches his eyebrows together, like he’s working through something. Gathering fragments of information and trying to stitch them together. “So, this happened to you not once, but twice?”

“Almost three,” Eddie confirms quietly. Buck pulls him closer, burying his face into the curve of Eddie’s neck, like he’s apologizing for nearly dying due to circumstances beyond his control. Eddie holds Buck in return, one hand resting against the small of his back, the other rubbing soothing circles, reassuring Buck he’s grateful they’re here now. 

Buck lifts his head to look at Eddie again. “Tell me what happened next?”

“There wasn’t much after that. Met Shannon and… well, you know the rest of that story. I guess it was more about the phone call with my parents the other week. Mom asked if I had a girlfriend I wasn’t telling them about, and I just got so angry. At first I thought it was just the usual pissed off about them prying where they don’t belong. And because I wanted to tell them about you. To be able to tell them about us. The more I think about it, what you said about how people wished they had something like Heartstopper when they were younger — I think that’s a big part of what’s bothering me. They assumed if I did have someone it would be a woman. I’m a grown man, with a kid, living in LA, and I still don’t feel comfortable telling them I have a boyfriend.” Eddie lets out an exasperated sigh, “I couldn’t do it then and I still can’t now. It’s like I’m sixteen all over again and having to hide who I am. There’s so much resentment built up because I never got to have this as a kid. I can’t go back in time, and I can’t get any do-overs. I just want to be able to have it all now. With you.”

Buck catches his eye again, looking serious. “Eddie, I- I wanna do everything with you. This is a conversation for another time, but, um, I know how it is to have to hide yourself — even as an adult. If you remember just one thing, I need you to know there’s no timeline here. Not with me. You can tell them or not tell them whenever you’re ready. I mean, I assume at some point they might come here and you’ll have some explaining to do.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that,” Eddie mutters. 

“Either way,” Buck says, “I wanted you to know I’ll support whatever choice you make. When they call I can be your boyfriend or just the codependent best friend who’s constantly at your house hanging out with your super cool kid.”

“Thank you.” Eddie kisses him, chaste and soft. “For everything.”

“Anything,” Buck reassures him. They’re silent then, foreheads pressed together, until Eddie feels Buck shift like he’s furrowing his brow. 

“You said you never told anyone,” he says, the implication clearly beginning to register. “Does that mean-“

“It means you’re the first person I’ve ever told any of this to. About any of it.”

“Eds,” Buck’s voice is shaky and Eddie can see tears forming when he pulls back just enough to look at Buck properly. “I- thank you. For trusting me with that.”

I trust you with everything. My life, my heart, my son, my future.

“Anything. Everything,” Eddie says instead. 

“Can you- I mean, would you tell me more about him? About Luke?” 

“What do you want to know?”

“How about just start at the beginning and we’ll go from there?”

“I’d like that,” Eddie says, leading Buck to the bed so they can lay curled up together. 

Eddie tells him about the first day they met, and how he never expected Luke to want to even want to be friends with him. He fondly recalls lazy afternoons reading under the oak tree and how he never returned to the tree after the accident. He chose a new spot on a bench at the other side of the school. It had less shade, and wasn’t nearly as comfortable, but it didn’t hold as many bitter reminders. Not to mention Eddie’s classes and work took more of his time, so he wasn’t reading as much anyway. 

“Hey,” Buck begins, carding his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “You said earlier you wanted to show me something?”

“I mean- it’s not- It’s nothing really.” In the warmth of the sunny afternoon, after hours of being engrossed in something that made him feel so seen, it seemed like a reasonable idea to share a physical piece of his past with Buck. Now that Eddie’s flayed himself open, it seems less so. 

Unsurprisingly, Buck sees right past his flimsy objection, raising an eyebrow at him. “So insignificant you brought me back here, poured out years of grief, and told me things  that you’ve never told anyone else?”

“Maybe?”

“Eds, you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. Ever. You know that. I’m just sensing that maybe this isn’t nothing.” 

“It’s not,” Eddie admits. “I just don’t want you to get freaked out by it. Like, I realize this might be a heavy thing now that we’re talking about it.”

“Heavier than telling me about your dead high school boyfriend?” Buck asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Right,” Eddie gives him a quick kiss on his forehead before sitting up and making his way to the closet. He inputs the safe combination, pulling the door open to retrieve the box. Eddie walks back to the bed where Buck is laying on his side, propped up on his elbow, curiously eyeing the wooden object. 

“This was the last thing he gave me. Well, only thing, really,” Eddie explains, tracing the outline of the puzzle box. “He left it in my truck at school as a surprise. But, it was the afternoon of the accident. So I never got to thank him or tell him what I thought about it. How much it meant to me even though I told him not to get me anything. I guess now I’m glad he didn’t listen.”

“Looks like he knew you pretty well. Have you ever thought of setting it out somewhere?”

“No? I mean it always felt too painful, and I never wanted to explain it. Besides, wouldn’t that be… awkward for you?”

Buck takes his hand, threading their fingers together. “It obviously means something that you held onto it. You don’t have to, but it won’t bother me if you do.”

Eddie leans down to press a kiss to their interwoven fingers, wondering what he did to deserve a partner like Buck. “I’ll think about it.”

Buck doesn’t say any words, but replies with his soft, only-for-Eddie smile, and manages to tell Eddie everything he needs to hear anyway. 

❤️

Talking with Buck helps ease the ache in Eddie’s chest. The one that still makes him feel locked up and like he’s not allowed – or supposed to even want – to have this life he’s living. Buck gives Eddie the freedom to voice his frustrations, listening patiently and holding him or letting Eddie pace like a caged animal if he needs. 

They rarely discuss Eddie’s time in the military. That’s still a piece of history Eddie’s not ready to poke at. It does come up during one of his venting sessions when Buck asks if Eddie had any similar feelings then. If Eddie ever felt out of place being in the army, or if he felt safe to be who he was even if he never said it out loud. At first, Eddie didn’t think it was an issue and tells Buck as much. It was war and death and trying to survive long enough to get home to his family. There was no room to think about who he was other than a soldier, a son, a father, a husband. 

Not even when you were laid up in Afghanistan? his mind supplies. The thought surprises him until he starts mentally reviewing his time in the medical tent. A memory comes to him, fuzzy and dim at first, until it becomes clearer. He remembers the crackling static of a television and hearing the news: Wedding bells are ringing across the country in places like Texas and Alabama and Georgia. Places that some people thought this day might never come… From the Stonewall Inn in New York to San Francisco’s city hall, celebrations decades in the making. But, perhaps, none as meaningful as these. Same sex marriage ceremonies in states where it was illegal before today… ‘The time has come that Texas has finally caught up with history. Love rules’… ‘You wouldn’t think something so basic could take so long’.

Eddie remembers the way his breath caught as he listened while trying to appear like he wasn’t. At the time, his first thought had been wondering what his life might have looked like if this had only come ten years earlier. Would he have gone through with marrying Shannon? Would it have been okay to be who he was? Would it have been any more acceptable or would people stay stuck in their ignorance? His question was immediately answered when someone turned off the broadcast, mumbling ‘is this what the fuck we’re dying for?’ He remembers the way the light, airy bubble of hope had burst, leaving an acidic trail in its wake. The way he dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand, and bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to contain the tears threatening to spill over. He remembers how fucking alone he felt in that moment, and passed the time until he fell asleep reminding himself he had a wife and a son that needed him to forget who he was and get his shit together as a husband and father. 

Despite all his talks with Buck, there’s a piece Eddie can’t quite put his finger on. Like a speck of dust on his eyelashes that he can’t see, but can’t get rid of either. 

Bobby encourages Eddie to talk to one of the department therapists, but Eddie’s not so sure he’s really a therapy kind of guy. Even if he was more than willing to have Christopher see someone. Is a therapist really going to help with a situation like this when Eddie barely knows what this is? If he’s being honest, it takes so much effort for Eddie to open up to the people he does know — how’s he going to open up to a total stranger?

The universe, however, seems determined to pry Eddie open and make him spill out whatever poison has been left in his system. One morning in November, while he’s out checking off his to-do list, he runs into Michael Grant at the home improvement store. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Michael tries to wave around the armful of lightbulbs he’s carrying. “How are you?” 

“I’m good. Do you need a basket or something?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. I was just about to check out actually. No Buck today?” 

Eddie can’t help his automatic smile at the sound of Buck’s name. “Nah, he was pretty wiped out from our shift. He’s at home, dead to the world.”

“At home, huh? Things are pretty serious then.”

“Well, I-” Eddie feels his cheeks flush, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Yeah, it is.”

Michael gives him a knowing smile, nodding his head slowly. “Good for you. I’m happy for you two.”

“Uh, thanks for that. I am, too. Really happy.” Because Eddie’s never been one to talk about himself he tries switching the focus back to Michael. “What about you? Anything or anyone new?”

“Work is steady, people always want new buildings. Kind of a shame with all the existing architecture, but no one wants to spend the money to renovate those. As for people… just me and the kids for now. Which reminds me, Athena asked if I could take them this weekend.” Michael manages to pull his phone from his pocket, still juggling the lightbulbs, to type a note for himself. 

Eddie realizes he’s never talked to Michael much. Not just in general, but about the dynamic between him and Athena after their divorce. It’s not any of Eddie’s business, he knows that. He still has a nagging feeling that he wants to ask anyway. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“As long as it’s not to help break into a bank vault,” Michael teases. 

“No, I’ll leave that to Bobby. I was just wondering, um, what was it like… telling Athena?” Eddie doesn’t say the rest but he thinks Michael gets it from the way his expression softens.

“I don’t have anywhere to be. Do you have time to grab a coffee?”

There’s a few odds and ends to pick up for new shelving in Christopher’s room, nothing that can’t wait. “Yeah, I do.”

Eddie helps Michael take his armload of merchandise through check out and they agree to meet at a cafe a couple blocks away. They’re able to find a semi-secluded table near the back where they can talk without much interruption. 

“No use sugar coating anything,” Michael says, stirring his hot tea. “It was one of the best and worst days of my life. On one hand I felt so relieved to finally say the words out loud. But it came at an astronomical price. I had to break my best friend’s heart, and I don’t think I will ever get over that.”

“I can imagine. Telling Shannon I thought we should get a divorce was hard enough. That was without realizing any of the feelings I had for Buck. I mean, maybe they were there? I don’t know. It’s not like I feel… wrong about being with him – far from it. The thing is-” What? Eddie cuts himself off, because this is the part that trips him up and makes him feel like he’s fumbling in the dark. 

“You know who you are, but you’re not sure anyone else does anymore?”

“Kind of? I haven’t said anything to my parents or sisters yet. And I only kept it from my sisters so they didn’t accidentally tell our mom and dad. I guess I just know there’s going to be questions about Shannon, and did I always know or is it because I moved to LA? What am I teaching Christopher? Shit like that. It’s none of their business, but they’re not going to give up. Y’know?”

Michael purses his lips, nodding his head in understanding. “Oh, I do. First of all, you’re one hundred percent correct. It’s not any of their business how you conduct your life or raise your son. Christopher is loved, and well cared for, and that’s what matters. As for the other stuff… well, I wish there was a handbook, but, sadly, no one’s written one yet. There’s a whole lot of gray areas. You can plan your conversations, and your answers, to the letter. The truth is it will make you learn your boundaries and when to stand your ground. It’ll change from person to person and not everyone needs to know everything. It might not feel like it sometimes, but you’re the one holding all the cards, Eddie. You are the final decision of who has access to you and your family.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that. Everyone at the 118 has been so amazing – my abuela and tía, too – I guess I just keep holding my breath, waiting for the fallout from my parents. They’ve never given me a reason to think it would be a problem, but they never gave me a reason not to either. Being raised in a Catholic household isn’t very conducive to saying ‘guess what? I’m gay’ or queer or whatever it is I am.”

Michael taps the table to get his attention. “You are Eddie Diaz, first and foremost. Got that? Second, labels are… a very personal thing. I’m a gay man. I feel comfortable labeling myself that way. For you, it might be something different or you might not want to pick a specific word at all. There’s no rule saying you have to choose one. And just because you love Buck now doesn’t mean it invalidates what you had with your wife. It doesn’t make it any less real. When Athena and I got married, I genuinely loved her. I still love her, it just looks different than before.”

Eddie sips at his coffee that could be classified as lukewarm at best, letting Michael’s words sink in. He turns them around in his mind and tries to match them with his own experiences. He did love Shannon, that was real. He loves Buck and he knows it’s not just because Buck is another man. Buck is obviously attractive, but he’s also kind, intelligent, and caring. He treats Eddie and Christopher well, and makes it clear every day how much he loves them both. He loves Buck because he is Buck and everything that includes.

“That all makes sense,” Eddie says. “You said the conversations look different for everyone, but how did you feel about yourself and how people might see you? Specifically what it was like after all those years of being married to a woman, and having kids.”

“Oh boy, that was a reality check. Deep down, for a lot of years, I knew who I was. By the time I was ready to take ownership of that, to share it with others… well, let’s just say I didn’t consider that not everyone had as much time to adjust to the idea as I did. For me, I was done living in the shadows, I wanted to tell the world. For Athena, Harry, May, my friends and in-laws, it was more complicated. Harry and May probably handled it the best, but that was still touch and go at first. I think Athena knew to a point, even before. It was still tough for her not to feel like she was lied to – and I get it. I made a promise to her, a vow. Who wouldn’t be hurt getting blindsided like that? Friends and coworkers’ reactions were all over the map. Some were supportive, others didn’t understand how I’d ever married Athena, and started a family, if I knew I liked men. Some were downright ignorant and we haven’t spoken since. I guess I spent so long knowing, it felt like finally being able to breathe. After I realized not everyone wanted – or needed – to know, I figured the rest would fall into place.”

“So, has it?” 

“Mostly,” Michael says. “It’s an ongoing process. By now the most important people in my life know, and we’ve worked through it. We’ll probably do it again if I ever meet someone new, and again if I want to make him a permanent part of my life.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Eddie says around a chuckle. 

“Uh huh, I wish. You’ll get there in your own time.” Michael gives him a warm smile that feels somewhat reassuring. “Say, have you considered finding any local groups? You can even find something online if you want. Don’t get me wrong, I am always here to talk if you want. In my experience you can never have too many resources. It might even be something for Buck to look into.”

“Maybe, I’ll mention it to him. Speaking of, I should probably get home and try to get a little sleep before it’s time to get Chris. Thanks, Michael, for being so open with me.”

“Of course! Here, let me give you my number if you ever need anything. Even if you want to text, we don’t have to talk.”

They exchange phones, adding their information before handing them back, and saying goodbye. Nothing is new except having a conversation, but Eddie does feel lighter, like he’s not quite so alone in his experience. 

On the drive home he mulls over Michael’s suggestion about finding a group. Eddie knows it isn’t the same, but it still seems an awful lot like therapy and dumping his baggage on strangers. Maybe Buck will be more comfortable with it. If he is, he’ll want Eddie to go, too, but he won’t push if Eddie says no or not yet. 

Any thoughts of therapy, or his parents, dissolve when Eddie gets home and climbs under the covers. Buck barely moves except to automatically snuggle against him to be Eddie’s little spoon. He tucks one arm over Buck’s side, molding them together as much as he can. Eddie manages to whisper I love you, pressing a kiss to Buck’s neck before sleep drags him under. 

#fuck it friday #queer feelings #eddie diaz #evan buckley #michael grant #coming out later in life #hippo writes #whatever may come (your heart i will choose) #💙🦛

[tartt9]

for a large majority of jamie's life, his managers fell under two categories: bad and pep.

in this blog's canon, he got his call up to city's senior side under pelligrini, who i'll be the first to admit i don't know a TON about personally, but he's a manager who moves clubs every 2-3 years so that tells me enough about his coaching style to say that jamie never felt secure or comfortable under him especially coming in as a junior. jamie as a rookie was bullied by the older men in the club for his talent according to phil so i'm running with that and saying that that was all happening under pelligrini (or whatever lassoverse person was at city before pep, there's no mention of city before pep so i'm assuming it adheres to real life staff).

then pep comes in and switches up the wholeeee atmosphere at the club. he's not a manager who would allow bullying of any sort in his dressing room, which is part of the reason that im convinced jamie got his senior call up before pep came. anyways pep is known for being this very affectionate, very loving, very emotional coach - he's everything james denigrated in a man and everything jamie was taught he wasn't allowed to be, but here's a shining example of the fact that he can be emotional and affectionate and still be successful in football so he started to really grow into the premier league under pep's management!

pep constantly rotates his starting xi, he cares deeply for his young players and wants to make sure they shine, will constantly lather praise upon them when he's asked, will wrap his players in hugs after matches. pep has no room for an ego in his dressing room and he will sit players who think they're better than the environment he creates. having pep to support him while he's coming up and growing into these massive, premier league sized boots is something so important for who jamie is as a player and a man.

not to mention he's also a tactical genius and has now won the treble twice (the only manager to ever do that in european football). plus. this is him as a player (that has nothing to do with jamie's experience with him but i think jamie learned a lot from him both about football and as a player, plus as a man. i think a lot of his personality comes from pep). and when jamie was sent on loan it was with a promise from pep that if jamie could develop a little bit more he'd earn his spot in the XI more frequently, he could start for city instead of just being a second teamer. so he goes. (i also think pep knew about jamie's whole thing about roy but that's not the point rn)

pep does not like george cartrick. sending jamie on loan to richmond was probably something he didn't exactly want to do but he knew it was best for jamie as a player. the handshake between cartrick and pep after richmond lost to city 9-0 at the etihad while jamie sat in the vip section bc he couldn't play against his parent club was probably SOOOO passive aggressive. like. this level of passive aggression

and cartrick's a shit manager who cares more about slinging slurs and proving his own masculinity than about managing a successful team, richmond's canonically mediocre pre-s1 and i think that has to do with cartrick not caring if not using the James Tartt Method of "you're failing so you're xyz a little bitch zyx". so from jamie to go from pep to that was probably just. awful for his mental health. he was being driven to the point of insanity due to incompetent coaching, and not to mention he had mannion whispering into his ear about the fact that he could become a star at richmond akin to messi and ronaldo and all those people

and then ted comes and jamie's under his fourth manager in five years and he now knows it's a coin toss but he starts off skeptical bc he's an american. we see jamie lifting weights pre-press conference but as soon as ted starts talking and it cuts back to the gym jamie's actually listening to ted and giving him a chance. but ted keeps proving his own incompetence as a manager and jamie trusts him less and less as he comes up with these mediocre plays and doesn't seem to care when they lose and they fall more and more towards the bottom of the table and jamie knows relegation is a real fear and he wants to do everything in his power to keep richmond from that not just to impress his dad but to impress pep so he keeps fighting and we find out that he's scored 11 goals during his loan (which is in the top 20 of most goals scored all SEASON in 2019-20, not even counting the goals jamie may have scored upon his return to city) so like. obviously jamie cares about richmond, he cares about the club, he wants to see them succeed. and ted's just fucking them all up. that drives jamie more and more towards a full fledged breakdown because no matter how hard he tries he's not the manager, he's not a captain, he feels like he's the only one actually trying for the sake of this team bc at that point roy definitely isn't (even if jamie's being a prick about it the whole time)

and jamie doesn't like ted when he first shows up, but he STILL goes to the sacrifice show and tell, he still TRIES (like sure it's with a nudge from keeley but he still could've just... not gone) and he gets sent back to city anyway. and that starts to solidify ted with the cartrick class of managers he's had. and then ted sees james literally abusing him, jamie looks to him with a look in his eyes that's like. please help me. and ted walks away. and that's that. jamie's firmly of the belief that he's had pep, and then he's had shit managers.

and he wants to thrive at city because pep is a Good Manager and a Good Man. but. james gets to him too much and he has to leave the one Man In A Position Of Authority he's ever trusted just to keep himself safe from a full fledged breakdown bc of his dad (even if going on lust was his full fledged breakdown, his cry for help that no one seemed to hear)

so he goes back to ted bc ted's the only manager who'd agree to have him after lust, and he tries so hard, but it's pretty obvious that beard/nate/roy are the reasons the club's even running a little bit successfully, and it takes jamie (with peace and love) to elevate the club back to the prem

he likes ted as a man, but he's not entirely sure he's a good manager, even after s3. ted's obviously good with the players, with the environment he brings to the club, but he barely knows the offside rule in the finale which.... with peace and love.... it is not that hard to learn

we don't canonically know what roy's like as a manager, but seeing him interact with isaac, seeing him coach... i'd like to think he falls more under the 'pep' category than the 'bad' category but... we don't know ! we don't know <3

#headcanons ! #tagging this even though it's just 1200 words of me rambling about jamie and his managers #this is not a ted hate account btw i just don't think he was good for jamie as a player #he was very good for him as a man but....... i think beard did more for jamie the footballer than ted did

[lilietsblog]

So I'm probably making myself a target for some nasty shit by doing this, but it's just bothering me a lot to scroll through tumblr in the middle of all this, so here it is: my understanding of the whole Gaza/Israel issue.

Based on tumblr's usual noise, but also on Ukrainian news sources, which I p much trust on this because... well, because of the specific things they say that check out, and also because Israel isn't actually supporting Ukraine in this war, and is apparently also trying to suck up to Russia (it's not working, Putin and Co are too antisemitic for that), so no reason for our news to suck up to them. (Especially the independent opposition bloggers I also follow)

Yes, Israel got itself into the whole mess via its own very special ill-thought-out policy. And they're basically stuck this way because of external and internal political reasons. Here's hope they manage to sort it out in a way that doesn't result in ever more deaths, misery and horror -_-

Yes, there was a violent terrorist attack by HAMAS that resulted in... at least several hundred deaths, including torture, rape etc of civilians, including visiting foreigners.

Yes, Gaza inhabitants are often aggressively antisemitic in a "want to kill them all" way. That's where HAMAS recruits its terrorists from.

Yes, again, it's predominantly the fault of the government of Israel and the decisions it's made. No, it's not the fault of each individual citizen of Israel, let alone every Jew, and it's not the fault of every single person who thinks Israel deserves to exist as an independent country, either.

No, Israel did not bomb the hospital. I have yet to see a single relevant photo on tumblr, but I did see relevant photos in Ukrainian sources, and they're of an explosion in the parking lot. The casualty numbers were grossly overexaggerated in the initial reports, and the actual cause for the explosion was a misfired rocket from HAMAS. There've been corrections from some sources, none from others, but overall I believe that the final version is that.

No, Palestinians are by and large not inhuman monsters who deliberately use their own children as human shields then blame Israel. There are, have been and will be a few fanatics who do do that though - even besides specific reports, I'd be very skeptical if someone told me apropos of nothing that after several decades of conflict there wasn't a SINGLE person who was that far gone. It's just how human variance works. I mean, I'd buy it if someone said that a Ukrainian did that, too - have you read Taras Bulba?

Yes, HAMAS absolutely does use Palestinian civilians (including children) as human shields. It's a terrorist organization that thinks they're in the right and the ends justify any and all means. Of course they would.

Yes, Israel is doing some fucked up shit with forcing civilian population to evacuate within 24 hours, shutting off water and gas, etc. I don't think they're enacting deliberate genocide and I do think they're at least trying to avoid casualties (see: telling them to evacuate instead of bombing as is, and shoutout to Russia for absolutely not doing that), but their solutions are still horrifying and lead to misery and deaths.

Pretty sure Egypt is not helping either, I trust the Ukrainian sources on that. Nothing to gain from lying, there.

The whole thing is resulting in an explosion of antisemitic AND islamophobic AND just overall racist violence all over the world, including riots BY the affected populations in response to it. Everyone is in the wrong, and everything sucks. I'll be blocking people for both sentiments should any make their way through tumblr savior, so fair warning here. Have an opinion based on the understanding of both sides as actual human people, or go fuck yourself with a rusty fork. Thanks.

So this one might be the most controversial, but: I think it'll be good for Israel to get US weapons. They don't need them against Gaza, they can handle Gaza. Those are against hostile neighbours that support HAMAS and are currently, right now, attacking the territory of Israel. I do not think they should get to do that, and I think Israel should continue to exist as a country. A country that could very much stand to improve its internal and external policies, but that the world is better off having than not anyway.

(I'm seriously biased in that last one, because weapons for Israel getting bundled with weapons for Ukraine is VERY VERY GOOD for us specifically, including for personally me in my personal interest of not getting personally blown up by a rocket from Russia. Very much biased here)

(And to be clear, I don't think this bias affects the news sources, because those news were posted before the bundle idea came up)

(And yes, I do think US military intervention / aid can be in the right and make the world a better place. Not because US is flawless, colonialism is good, etc, but - broken clock, twice a day, you know the drill. I think these are both the twice a day in question.)

#absolutely not tagging this

[not-poignant]

For the ask game, 4., 9., and .38

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Ohhhh, I don't know! Maybe the good old classic gay realisation 'oh' lol.

Anam Cara did for a little while as well, because Game Theory. As did sweetness.

Also when writing dubcon, the word 'force' goes a long long way. :D

It's not any fancy words really. Like, I love words word like petrichor etc. and pavonate and brontide, but I have to be careful how often I use those.

I'll probably think of a thousand other words later x.x

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

I sort of do and I sort of don't. I'm like... not especially passionate about it, and I'm skeptical about most people's experiences, but I've also had some experiences, and I think it's possible that some kind of energetic residue could be left behind by the dead.

As a kid I was introduced to a belief system where we have multiple souls instead of a single soul (which is actually quite common in many strains of animism), and in that belief system, a ghost is just one of those souls, where 90% of the person's soul/s have departed, and about 10% is left behind. I've been taught exorcism and cleansings of homes and done them, but I'm very 'eh' about it these days!

This is a weird response. It's like, yes, I have learned skills to deal with ghosts and spirits. Yes, I have used those skills for myself and been paid by other people to use them. No, I don't really think most of ghost-hunting is legit. No, I don't even know if they're real, or if the ritual of cleansing and exorcism is what helps more than it proving the existence of the departed. I'm on several fences, lol, I sort of hop on them and off them.

I guess you could say I'm open-minded but also fairly scientifically-minded at the same time, and I'm pragmatic. Like, I was a professional tarot reader for a long time. Are the tarot really connecting to people magically? Or am I just using a psychological tool to tap into their consciousness to help them consider things that have been floating in the background but just need some focus? Probably the latter. And that's okay. :)

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

You know, I used to think a lot of my writing process was really weird!!!

I didn't know anyone else doing it my way. I literally have never met another person who runs a Patreon that's like... moderately successful, releasing original stories chapter by chapter on AO3 of all places, where it's literally against the TOS to mention any kind of paid site like Patreon or Ko-Fi. And for a long time I felt like a fucking idiot for doing it my way, and probably the nice version of that is 'really weird' lol.

I was like, mocked by a few other writers, and the ones who didn't mock me mostly didn't get it, and it was only very few authors who kind of thought what I was doing was a good idea. And by 'very few' I mean 'authors who were already my friends and they're just supportive people by default.'

But then over time, I realised actually it was a great way to do things. AO3 is where all the best people are! I get to still write fanfiction! It's an amazing site and I don't ever have to worry about my works being censored! I can break all the novel-writing conventions and people will still turn up for a 780k story about a guy growing into a better version of a guy! And it also means that the people who find my Patreon generally wanted to find out more about me and my writing, which is great!

These days, I don't know if there's much about my process that is really weird, but I do think parts of my process are different, and they are:

I don't have a daily wordcount, I have a monthly wordcount, and I only count the words of finished chapters. Any unfinished or half-finished chapter doesn't ever count. I also log that monthly wordcount in my Discord status for accountability.

I have to increase the size of the font to 140% in Word when editing. I cannot edit a font in the same size that I write it, and it's made me a much better editor before my chapters flow to Silvia.

I do a lot of editing in my head. That is to say - I have usually played through and 'stress tested' around 2-10 ideas in my head per chapter before I actually sit down and write. I didn't realise that until recently, but that's a fairly crucial part of my writing process and not just 'daydreaming.' I say I don't plan most of my stories and I don't, but you'd better believe I have mentally stress-tested many micro and macro-scenes per chapter before I sit down to write it. That's not weird though.

I don't think actually I have anything that weird now that I think about it. The weirdest thing for me is that I don't really get writer's block anymore. I've kind of come through to the other side of that. Now, if I get writer's block, nearly 100% of the time it's just burnout, or something is broken in the story and I know that and fix it quickly. That's the Really Weird thing. It's a little lonely, because it means I no longer relate to the majority of writing memes lol.

I don't think cats say much about us at all. I think they say a lot to us, and then mostly just do their own thing :D

--

From the Weird Writing Questions meme!

#asks and answers #memey goodness #pia on writing #wow every song on the playlist i'm listening to currently is such a fucking banger #yeah the Really Weird thing is like #no there's nothing really weird like #i have met so many different kinds of writer #and so many different processes #nothing is weird to me anymore #but i do know things that i'm doing #that i don't know if many other authors are doing dsalfkajs

[sophieinwonderland]

I’ve seen a post going around saying you’re racist and promote zoophilia… is this true?

I guess I’m wondering, how do you know “tulpa” isn’t racist, especially when there’s a lot of Buddhist systems online saying it is? After seeing so many others talking about it… I’m not sure what term to use. I’m just using thoughtform until I find something better. Maybe it’s because I’m relatively new to the community, but I don’t see anything wrong with picking a different word that’s more respectful…

And like… do you really think that people dating therians and that furries and therians themselves are zoophiles? And that zoophiles are connected to the plural community? It’s really bizarre to me that you might think that, but I wanted to ask you about it directly instead of taking that post at face value…

Sorry, just trying to get my head around this stuff. I’ve been following you for a while, and I’m interested in making my own thoughtform one day! But I’m not interested in associating with zoophilia and racism apologists…

On the allegations of appropriation, it's hard to tell what's true and isn't.

There are a lot of claims of it being appropriative going around based on the opinions of about a half-dozen Buddhists who aren't Tibetans. Most of whom have been heavily involved in syscourse and influenced by anti-endo rhetoric.

This same thing happened with the term "system hopping" not long ago.

One RAMCOA survivor made a post in 2021 saying that they "system hop" by moving between side systems. Then anti-endos started spreading the rumors everywhere that system hopping was "appropriated" from RAMCOA survivors, and demonizing people for using the term.

System hoppers and people who supported them were branded ableists.

"How dare you steal the terminology of these people who survived the worst sort of trauma???"

Many actual RAMCOA survivors believed the lie.

Some system hoppers were asking about changing the terminology because they felt bad about the RAMCOA survivors they were supposedly hurting.

The system who originally made that post deleted and retracted it. Investigation found system hopping as a term for moving between systems since 2005. No link to the RAMCOA community before then was found.

The entire discourse that anti-endos promoted as an example of "appropriation" from endogenic systems was nothing but a massive lie.

Not everyone knew it was a lie. Many honestly believed it. But they were told it so many times that it was appropriation that it just felt true. If so many people are saying system hopping is appropriation, then surely it must be right...

But it wasn't...

Identify as whatever you feel comfortable with, but I hope you can understand why I'm skeptical.

As for the zoophilia thing, I was given a broad question about if I support zoophilia. What I basically said was that harming animals is wrong, and that I don't believe in thoughtcrimes.

There's a classification of Zoophilia used here (Sci-hub compatible) which I later referenced. It lists 10 classes of Zoophilia. The first is human-on-human animal play, which is something I support. The third is fantasizing, which I also think is fine as long as it doesn't result in action. Both of these, I'm supportive of. The others, I'm not.

As it relates to systems, I completely support innerworld relationships with headmates regardless of form, and attraction to those forms. If a human-identifying headmate thinks a headmate with the form a feral platypus is sexy, good for them! I believe zoophilia is immoral because of the animals having less advanced minds, not because they look like animals.

Similarly, included in "art," I would include things like making realistic VR models and using them to engage in explicitly activities as being fine.

I don't really care about the labels people ascribe to me though. If they want to call me pro-zoophilia for supporting human-bodied individuals engaging in consensual acts, I think it's silly, but they can be my guest. 🤷‍♀️

#syscourse #paraphilia #paraphilias

[mandysxmuses]

😞 can i get sad (or perhaps mildly irritated) warverse bois

Todlich didn't know how to respond to the news of what Jemand had been sending him all this time... all he really knew was that he wanted to react violently. That was the typical plan when he was wronged, and vice versa, so there was no reason not to go for that now.

Homicide would have been the ideal option, but given the anti-magic cuffs, he couldn't guarantee it wouldn't be a complete death sentence... but he had one other idea that would probably teach the same lesson.

He encountered Jemand in the bathroom, having just finished a shower, currently looking with disgust at the clothing he had to wear.

"... It's all black and white, y'know, but it doesn't have any style to it. I want to go back to making my own clothes already. These are so boring, I'm gonna look like some average Joe... I don't do average Joe..." He complained idly, glancing at Todlich before directing his attention at the mirror again.

The taller man stared down at him, inhaled slowly, and then gave a slow and deliberate nod. "Yeah. That sucks. Anyway, I need your help with something."

"Mhm?"

"... You sent me a text earlier, but-- you know, I can't read and I don't really know what it actually says..." He muttered, and couldn't contain himself from scowling when he heard Jemand snicker. "Yeah, that's funny, I know."

"Relax, relaaaaaax... can't read, no biggie." Jemand turned and pretty much laid out the trap for himself before Todd even brought it up. "Did you want me to read it for you? I didn't want to spoil the surprise completely, is all."

Perfectly manicured fingers gestured to the message on the screen.

"I was just saying that things have been going surprisingly well, you were doing most of the work, and I was thinking of getting you a new cat when we got back to the Void to make up for it."

... It was stunning, how easily and shamelessly he could lie. Straight to people's faces, all the time. Straight to his. But there was a satisfying hint of fear in those emerald eyes when he noticed Todd's expression hadn't changed at all.

When he realized he wasn't buying it.

"I'm serious, one of those Sphynx cats you love so much, y'know? Eesh, if you want it to be orange and fluffy instead, that's cool, hip, down with the..."

Nothing was changing. Attempting to sweeten the deal did nothing to lower his skepticism.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He saw Todd's thumb lift over the message, and tap it. ... Then, he heard it read aloud by an automated voice, and felt the color drain from his face.

This was normally around the time Jemand would try thinking of some sort of defenses aside from more lies -- weapons, portals out, escape routes anywhere he could get them... but with no magic on his side to help with that, it was just him and a considerably stronger man who had already been violent countless times before staring him down.

And he just now realized he'd had his other arm behind his back the entire time, likely concealing some form of weapon.

Great.

"O-kay... I... see where you're coming from, you're... probably a little upset." He mumbled, taking a step -- and then two -- back. There was barely any distance made. Where could he actually go, in the bathroom? "I'm serious about the cat thing, though, I just... sent that text when I was a little upset and frustrated and I-I figured you wouldn't read it, so..."

Todlich sighed. Even now, with evidence clearly spelled out, he was doubling down. 'Serious about the cat thing'. Holy shit.

"Yeah. A new friend of mine showed me how to do that. A better friend. But I'm sure you when you sent that you definitely had making a kitty for me in mind. ... Look, even if I did eat that bullshit up, it wouldn't explain some other shit you sent me."

".. You-- you don't want to do anything crazy, here, this isn't the Void, you'd-- you'd get in actual trouble for hurting me. Nobody wants you freaking the fuck out and attacking me. So just... chill, and--"

"When the fuck did I ever care about what would keep me in these cuffs, Jemand? ... I'm not gonna kill you. I won't even cut you, probably, but ..."

Jemand jumped as he heard something click and begin to buzz loudly from behind him.

"I think I'm gonna make you a Sphynx."

#M; The Assassin #M; The Somebody #mortau #violence tw #V; Warlord Verse

[cumaeansibyl]

health and diet (not weight loss) stuff under cut. tl;dr I'm chronically ill now?

around about the time of the panini I started having a lot of fatigue and muscle soreness, and I thought to myself well, I've gotten quite sedentary and I'm stressed the hell out about everything all the time, that's probably what it is

I had a history of mild hypothyroidism but it seemed to have resolved itself around 2013, so I mentioned this to my doctor and she put thyroid testing in all my labs since then, but it was showing up as "subclinical" -- basically one number was normal and the other was high, which is not generally thought to produce symptoms

so I sought allergy testing and shots as another possibility (and learned I'm allergic to cats, lol) and I'm sure that's not not helping, like, I do feel somewhat less stuffy overall, but the fatigue persists

at my last regular blood test I finally hit the hypothyroidism threshold so they prescribed me some medication and also some more detailed followup testing after a month. which found that the medication was working but also that I have incredibly high levels of thyroid enzyme antibodies. which indicates that it's autoimmune (aka Hashimoto's) and also that, even with my thyroid producing the correct amount of things, my immune system is still attacking me. which quite neatly explains the fatigue and muscle soreness that's still persisting! (and also possibly the mild elevation in white blood cells that's been persistent in other tests)

so! Doc says she's seen this in other autoimmune thyroid patients, where the medication gives some relief to the primary symptoms, but there remains this other problem. And her first recommendation is an elimination diet to test the response to three common inflammatory foods: dairy, gluten, and refined sugar. So that's my next 3-6 months spoken for.

now if I'm honest I see a lot of that "inflammatory foods" business from the same kind of people who think the body's full of "toxins" requiring fancy expensive laxative potions to sluice out -- and also I'm sure that like, refined sugar isn't providing any health benefits, but I'm skeptical about the actual chemical differences between that and the "unrefined" stuff (yes I know there are many different sugars but how much difference does it reeeeaaaaallly make once it's in the body)

but as far as I know there's no like. antibody chelation protocols or whatever. so I have to give this a try because if it doesn't do anything then at least we know. I'm not super thrilled about having to go into "good foods vs bad foods" mode, which tends to take me into dark places pretty quickly, but I am hoping to focus more on "these are the good things I can eat lots of" instead of the alternative.

anyway this is requiring some cognitive reframing from "these are real symptoms but it's mainly stress and poor lifestyle choices" to "oh actually I'm sick and have been for some time" which, on the one hand it's incredibly affirming when your doctor says "yes, you do feel terrible and there's a reason!" but on the other hand, whew, that's a lot to take in actually.

(we won't talk about the times when i told myself "this is just how people feel and you're a whiny bastard for not handling it better" because I was mostly sure people don't just feel this bad all the time.)

anyway I only have to go dairy-free first, then take out gluten, and sugar goes last, so that shouldn't be bad -- Charles is lactose intolerant so we've already switched over to some non-dairy options. And I can sort of gradually phase out gluten-containing products as I use up the last of them. Anyone got any pasta recs? That's probably gonna be the heaviest lift for me.

#diet #illness #this is gonna be fun! (through gritted teeth) #it's nice to admit that i feel like shit though #like i could have before but my brain said i wasn't allowed because i didn't have a 'good reason' #screw you brain i'm sick