#anyways... this is why I don't like having many friends I'm too particular about things and it makes me feel exposed to ask to be-

[yvesbuprofen]

I have the object permanence with people, so if I don't see people I kinda forget about them, but there's this friend I used to spend everyday on uni, and I have many gifts from her, so I'm reminded of her from them like , the undershirt I always use is a gift from them, my favorite totebag was made by her, she crochet me a little jellyfish as a key ring, her most listened song always comes up randomly when I'm listening 80s music, so she's always on my mind and I miss her a lot, she was always conscious of what bothered me, and I felt very safe around her, I didn't even have to talk too much around her, if I didn't feel like it, because she always has something to talk about,,, idk I just miss my friend, she came back to a place she feels the most comfortable, so I'm happy for her, but I would like to see her again, and listen to her talk about her ex boyfriends lol

#all my friends who are still here don't get my weirdness that much #but I feel like I'm just being lazy for not wanting to talk about my boundaries with new people #my boundaries are like please tell me if someone new is going to be going with us #don't jokingly laugh at me because I never know if your joking #I don't do sarcasm unless we have been talking for years and I know your body language #that's why I don't like most people irl I never get when they are joking #because their body language is so ???? . #emm what else... maybe I should do a list so it makes easier to check everything out #I give up my eyes are closing #anyways... this is why I don't like having many friends I'm too particular about things and it makes me feel exposed to ask to be- #accomodated all the time

[asleepinawell]

sorry if this seems a bit out of the blue, but ever since youve been posting about fallen london, im a bit curious about it! What is the game about and where can I get it?

oh no worries! I'm happy to ramble about it

fallen london is a free to play browser game you can find here. the basic premise is that sometime in the 1800's the entire city of london is engulfed in a swarm of bats and then falls through the earth into a cavern a mile below. this is the neath, a huge underground cavern where london sits on the shore of a vast ocean. queen victoria is still around locked in her palace being a typical shitty british monarch, who, amongst other things, decided that 1900 was cancelled and we were just going to have 1899 for a second time

things are a little...different down there. humans are far from the only ones running around. there's devils, rubbery men (think mind flayer vibes), clay men, and the shadowy cloaked figures running the bazaar (and the city) called the masters. death mostly isn't permanent and the dream world is a little too real. also, most importantly, cats can talk! and there are tons of them! and tigers too

it's got victorian, gothic horror, dark humor, lovecraftian vibes. also it's extremely queer as is everything the dev, failbetter games, makes. something I especially appreciate is that you don't have to give your character any particular gender (though you can) and some of the little avatars are very gender neutral:

since it's free to play it comes with the normal things that type of game has such as real money transactions (completely optional and unnecessary for enjoyment (though some of the bonus side stories you can buy are extremely cool)), limited number of actions you can take (max of 20 at a time and refills 1 per 10 minutes). it is definitely grindy too though there's so many things to do (cannot emphasize the insane amount of content enough) I will usually just switch things up every so often

it's single player for the most part but you can ask friends to assist you in certain actions and there are some specific items that can be sent to other players

(if you like the setting but not the free to play part you can check out mask of the rose which is a visual novel they just released set right after london fell. it's a romance but with full aro and ace options (which I actually preferred) and a murder mystery. that one is a normal just buy the whole game deal and I think it's on most platforms. there's also sunless seas and sunless skies which take place in the same world but are a very different type of game and would require their own post. all of these have great writing in them)

but back to fallen london. it works based off of 'storylets', or little short stories when you usually do a skill check to accomplish something in return for advancing the story, levelling your skills, and reward items. you unlock more and more things as you go and get access to new stories and areas. here's an example of one of the little activities and its resolution

since it's a game designed to be able to play endlessly there isn't really a way to lose or game over. you can die but dying is just a minigame of its own and sometimes even a thing to do purposefully. (the only actual way to die is the notorious story called seeking mr eaten's name which you may have seen me post about, which is a very unique story that will permanently erase your character at the end. why you'd ever want to do that would also be its own post. it's pretty hard to stumble on accidentally I think and extremely well-marked as a thing with severe consequences that you probably shouldn't do. or should you...)

anyway I'd definitely recommend giving fallen london a try if you're interested in the premise and aesthetic

#fallen london #flmp #mp #asks

[wc-m0ch4]

Shadow the Hedgehog x gn! Reader Headcanons

I watched all the Sonic Prime episodes in one day LMAO I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Anyways,

PROLOGUE HCS

As most hcs with this mf starts, it took forever for him to finally trust you, let alone get into a relationship with you

I mean, can you blame him really? He's lost a lot, he's gone through a ton of shit, it's kinda to be expected

He talked to Rouge one day about how he felt more comfortable around you than others and she teased him relentlessly

"Shadoooow, you like them?"

"I prefer them over others, if that answers your question. Why are you making that face?"

Lowkey funny thing, when it finally hits him that he liked you he tries to figure out why he likes you.

At first he thinks maybe it's your looks so he stares at you a lot trying to pinpoint what part of you he likes, but he's got a rbf so it concerns you gravely

"Shadow are you angry at Y/n?"

"No, of course not. Why?"

"You're kinda... glaring... at them..."

"Oh."

Then he theorizes that it must be something from your personality. So he starts asking you a ton of questions randomly, but like, theoretical questions

'What would you do if two of your best friends were drowning and you only had enough strength to save one?' Type questions y'know

Then he tries to see if it's something you do, like if you're 'useful'. So he keeps a mental tally of how many times you do something for him or others. When you pay for yours and Amy's lunch, when you give Sonic the rest of your bag of chips, when you hold the door open for Rogue, etc.

Finally he realizes that it's not something in particular, he just likes you

He reveals this revelation to Rouge and she snorts lmao

She sets up a whole date-confession-thing without either of your knowledge to get Shadow to confess

REAL TIME HCS

He's very quiet with his affection

He'll pat you on the head or back, give you a small smile, make you lunch, help you with some work, small things y'know

If you're a human and a lot taller than him he uses this to his advantage and climbs you so he can see more

^Some of the few times he will allow you to carry him

He'll text you updates about what he's doing and when he'll be home and expects you do the same

If you forget he'll scold you like a toddler lmao

Don't forget the skin-care routine and ironing the sheets every night according to the Twitter takeover LMAO (it should have been me)

He's not one for going out on dates but he does enjoy going to the library or the park with you, somewhere quiet with not a lot of people

Shadow would enjoy theatre all the way (I don't say this cuz I'm a theatre kid nope def not)

Also not a fan of PDA but he'll hold your hand or have a hand on your shoulder

He gets jealous easily lol

Like if someone starts talking or, God forbid, flirting with you he'll be standing right behind you glaring at them

His pet names are demeaning LMAO

Like how he calls Sonic 'hedgehog' it's the same for you

He'll call you more typical terms of endearment if it's laced with sarcasm

"Well, dear, if you had done like I said earlier this wouldn't have happened."

"I'm sorry, I should've known making toast was too difficult for you, darling."

Shadow has a phone and social media and the only reason is so you can send him memes you find funny to him

I like to imagine showing him a funny video and he just sits there staring at it for a bit before turning to you and going "This is hilarious."

If you're in college or work from home he'll help you with some of your work

Okay but imagine he's standing behind you helping you with homework and he leans over to grab a pencil or something and then you're pressed between him and the desk JAGFHEBAUWVDHJ– ANYWAYS

He likes keeping his space clean so if you're mentally ill like me (LMAOOO) or just messy in general he's willing to help you clean up

Just enough to keep him satisfied :)

Okay but imagine stay-at-home dates with him like:

Cooking dinner together

Laying your head on his lap while you two watch a movie

Playing games or doing puzzles

Speaking of games, game nights are a regular thing with the group and Rogue drags Shadow along so in turn he drags you along

I ask you to imagine a huge game of Uno between Sonic, Knuckles, Tails, Amy, Cream, Big, Team Chaotix, Rogue, Shadow, and you.

Yeah, fucking insanity.

If there's any game where you have to pair up Shadow immediately grabs you

Absolutely NO chance he's pairing with Sonic lol

Moving on, he likes playing with your hair

If you need help doing a complex or a protective hairstyle he's got you fr

If you wear makeup, whether it's natural or more bold, he will compliment it

He'd probably help you with your makeup too if you asked lol

On a more sad note, he has times where he gets upset about his past so just give him space or comfort, whatever he needs at the time

If he gets upset about Maria ask him about her. It helps talking about her in a positive light when she was alive than replaying her death on repeat

So if you have your own bouts of depression (*cough cough* me *cough*) he'll understand and try to help in any way he can

On a more happier note, he likes getting you gifts

Homie is a very gift giving/ acts of service type of lover fr fr

Btw dating Shadow means being friends with Rogue and Omega, no exceptions

Ugh sorry this took forever to make I'm really lazy lmao

Did you guys notice that Jacksepticeye voices a character in one of the later Sonic Prime episodes cuz I did and I almost SCREAMED–

Anyways, send in requests if you want :)

#fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic headcanons #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow headcanons

[tamelee]

pls bottom naruto is disgusting stop drawing this ooc cringe

Eh? And it hadn't even been a full day.

Anyway, do you know what this means?:

It means… that I don’t give a damn about your whiny gibberish about this top/bottom bullshit, because it sounds incredibly silly. (And wrong because I draw both?)

It’s fine to have a preference, good for you (I have one too!), but if all you care about between a character-dynamic is the single notion which establishes a rule within a fandom that demands only this particular dick in only that particular booty and nothing else, while dividing yourselves between "us and them" while seeing the people who like the same exact characters as your "enemy" and treating them as such— well, 

I have nothing to say to you, I couldn’t care less what you think about me and I don’t know you. 

But for the sake of other creators who are often a target also, some which I know quit because of this… there is a little something I'd like to say about these servers:

You don’t think I (we) know what is said in there and by who? 👀 That your rules of "what is said on here stays here" with a bunch of people online that you don't know, is actually respected? Why do you think I never join any. And bet your ass that I'm not the only one. This constant fighting between NS/SN is such an embarrassment for this fandom, seriously. I hope you realize that.

Because, instead of encouraging a (new) creator to share something about the characters you claim to love (for fucking free) you go off chastise them for not “doing it right”/“your way”, pretending it's some unspoken commission no one knew of or was paid for. Instead of being happy there’s still so much creative contribution for characters from a story that ended years ago, you go complain under fanfics and dishearten writers, often grinning away with your little server-“friends” and make fun of work someone poured their heart in. Or, you huff, puff and breathe fire as you make plans to cancel them out of pure bitterness, to the point (especially new) creators are too scared and dispirited to ever share anything again. It's easy to do anonymously, aye? And if you think that doesn’t affect their lives and sends them right back into a crestfallen pit of dark hell because it prevents them to do/share the single thing in life that gave them a bit of joy, then...

Congratulations; you’re a heartless bastard.

And you, as a fan, did yourself dirty too.

Do you know how many people don’t want to share anything at all for this fandom because you people leave comments, tags, asks, tweets constantly complaining about an incorrect portrayal of the (in your opinion) only acceptable dynamic, like a bunch a brats? Do you? Because I’ve talked to quite a few of these discouraged creators, they have to hope for the best and pray they’re spared from your scrutiny. I receive it from both sides every now and then.

Again, congratulations: you’re the reason there’s less chance of you getting what you want in the first place. 

Do you... really not realize?

The more you squabble with "your enemy" (lol) the more it affects the "us" you care about while the rest of us just bask in the glory that is SNS/NSN and couldn't care less about what you think/have to say. So, keep everyone else out of it and go mope elsewhere.

But, between you and me? There are better ways to share what you think is right. Make something yourself, because what's stopping you?

You’re perfectly capable, it doesn’t have to be art or a fic, maybe there’s just something in the story that you really enjoyed— write about it. Make a meta. Post the panel, show the moment that determined your undying love for this single dynamic and why— whatever.  Because, wouldn't it be nice having someone encourage you to create something you like? 😬 Especially because you and your server feel so strongly about it? And then you don't have to depend on others either?

Wouldn't it be nice?

Well?

Hm!?

Try it, ffs.

#asktamelee #fandom talk

[drdemonprince]

I've noticed a pattern in anticapitalist books I read (specifically I'm talking abt Mark Fisher here, in Capitalist Realism). They do this great anticapitalist analysis etc and then go on to critique their students? and sometimes it's a bit ableist? it's like all the critical thought goes out of the window and they cannot understand the situation because for once suddenly they are in the authoritative position. It always gives me this "I don't understand these kids, back in my day-" vibe, and I see this with lecturers at university too. like Mark Fisher maybe we can think outside the box about your student who "needs" headphones to focus in class "even though no music is playing". and maybe it's not to do with the "Matrix"(????) I'm well aware this was written in 2008 but it's weird that I see this pattern continue today. Not to mention Mark Fisher took part in some ableist studies, and was a guy with questionable intentions on occasion.

it's like you Just said that reducing labour is good why are you calling your students lazy, that's so unprofessional and privileged. I wonder of coincidence that he is anti-meds when his right wing, pro-eugenics, accelerationist friend was addicted to amphetamines.

Or even just the amount of people who have written books about laziness and anticapitalism (excluding you) and just saying the most contradictory shit ever?? or not following their own ideology???

Anyway, I wonder if, when writing Laziness Does Not Exist, you came across any of this and were equally as baffled.

Materialism is just *so* true that high-status academics don't have a vested class interest in seeing their student struggles as legitimate or in recognizing the struggles of disabled people in general. For many edgy academic leftists having the correct opinions is just a way to flex one's intellectual status, not a lived experience they give a shit about. I'm not shitting Fisher in particular in saying this, it's more that it's a really widespread problem in the culture of these kinds of (very white, very academic, very cishet) leftists communities. You see the same kind of thing among some of the Chapo stan types, too, you don't have to be specifically an academic to do it -- lots of people throwing around the r-slur and flexing on how much they have read and doing fuck all for the oppressed people around them. I tend to find it especially common among people who inherited leftism from their (often academic) parents? Whereas leftist communities populated by Black & brown anarchists and working class people tend to fare a lot better in this particular respect.

Note that I'm not saying a person's identities are a guarantee of them being any more radical -- there's lots of liberals lurking in our midsts of all identities for instance -- more that someone's orientation toward power tells you a lot. and unfortunately there is an approach to leftism that puts a lot of stock in either institutional power via the academy, or in a kind of soft power of intellectual authoritativeness that tends to punish anyone who is supposedly less well read, less intelligent, lazy, needs disability accommodations, has trauma triggers, or what have you.

The simple answer is that power and privilege obscures other people's challenges from you, and the desire to preserve one's power (be it actually institutional academic authority or just the status of the person who supposedly knows the most in the room) leads to a lot of oppressive behavior. a lot of these guys that you're talking about believe in communism sincerely but they don't have humility, they believe themselves to be superior to most everyone else. and they tend to be white guys from wealthy families who either do not have any disabilities of their own, or they have the undiagnosed intj mastermind rational flavor of autism that makes you feel incredibly alienated from others but interpret that alienation as a sign of your intellectual superiority. (i had this type but i got better. a little)

[cherrysweather]

can i rq edgeworth who has liiike a huge crush on fem reader :3 but reader is like super oblivious to it and she keeps accidentally doing things to fluster him 😭😭

Hellu anoon! I hope you're doing fine and that you take care of yourself! This is so cute, so I hope I wrote it well enough for you to like it ;v; Have a good day and remember the water! <3 -----------------------------------------

Miles Edgeworth x an oblivious crush:

We all know that Miles becomes emotionally incapacitated when it comes to handling feelings different from discomfort, anger or simply his neutral state of mind;

So you can perfectly imagine how many times he stumbles over his words and blushes per se when he's with her;

To start a conversation he has to think about what to talk about, at least two possibilities of her responses, and how to continue it afterwards;

That's the exact motive why her behavior DOES NOT help him, at all;

He doesn't understand if she does it on purpose or if she's that unaware of his own behavior in her regard;

But, from many points of view, Miles doesn't dislike it completely, since it allows him to be somewhat more free without necessarily embarrassing himself, since she doesn't suspect anything;

He often buys her small gifts or takes her to eat after work, but even if he tries with all his strength (which he never can fully use), she always sees it as a "date" between friends;

She probably starts to doubt after Miles' continuous kind gestures, but it's also the last thing she wants to illude herself of, so that's the main reason why she believes anything Miles does for her is just form a friend to another;

So she just tries to reciprocate his affection;

When she finds some particular tea leaves, he's the first one that comes to her mind, so she buys them for him;

Whenever they're together, she likes to hold onto his arm or when they're in very crowded spaces, she holds his hand nonchalantly and just drags him;

She sends some photos of her days and always makes sure to wish him a good morning and a good night;

When she can, she comes to his office to keep him company if she knows that he has to work for many hours (and sometimes even falls asleep on his sofa);

U s e l e s s to say that Miles is even more confused and flustered with each of her actions;

Mostly when she proposes to help him choose the outfits of the day and, once together, she fixes every inch of his, from the shirt collar, that irregular fold on his jacket and her beloved hair;

Oh dear, she has to only skim his scalp to make his temperature rise suddenly, his hands trembling in his pockets when he feels his locks being gently pulled to be styled;

And, of course, the nonexistent distance between their faces (a thing that Miles tries to ignore by keeping his eyes closed);

And at this point, even a whole poster on which is written "I LOVE YOU" will leave her doubting.

"Miles look!" She tugged his sleeve and dragged him near the lakeside "There are little ducklings" She knelt immediately and tried to have a closer look at them "Maybe we should leave them alone; if the mother's around I don't know how she would take two strangers" He lowered himself and made sure she wouldn't fall into the water "I'm not doing anything, yet" She grinned and looked around to see if there was something to feed them "Don't- They probably aren't even developed yet to digest something that isn't water-like textured" He held her still when she tried to get up to take whatever she saw "But I wanted to hold one" She got up anyway and waved to the babies when they started to go away "We should adopt some ducks" She went behind him and hugged his neck, slightly putting her weight on his back "Some? I think one is more than enough, and I'm sorry to say but you'll be the one to keep it" He tried his total best to control the trembling of his voice and put his hands in the water to stop them too, from trembling and to at least try calming the hot wave that started from his face and went everywhere "But why! They're cute, maybe noisy and not exactly calm in the house, but they are soft" "Dogs are also soft, and are way more manageable than a duck" He stood up, attempting to get her to break away from him, but she remained hugged to his neck, on her toes "Just becaaause, you already had one and blah blah, we'll see who's truly right" She moved her arms from the neck to his chest, squeezing him to bother him and prove her point. The laugh that came from her mouth made Miles melt for a second, breathing to calm himself down and -HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW AND WHY- placing his trembling hands on hers, taking the courage to turn around and seeking to clarify whether something could actually exist, between those two.

#ace attorney #ace attorney x reader #miles edgeworth #ace attorney headcanon #ace attorney headcanons #miles edgeworth x reader #miles edgeworth headcanons

[desideriumwriter]

hi! i saw you opened your requests and i have one :) i love fred, and i love angst even more. however, most of the angsty fred fics rotate around his death, which yes, it definitely hurts, but i'm looking for something else. i'm a sucker for unrequited love, maybe the reader could be pining after fred and he doesn't reciprocate the feelings or something along those lines. the only particular i'd like is hufflepuff!reader, other than that it's all up to you.

i love love love your writing, thank you in advance 💖💖💖

YES god yes, we all know i'll be on my hands and knees for any sort of angst, plus i've been thinking of writing one of these for awhile now. anyways, i hope you enjoy this lil blurb <3

wc: 682

“Something on your mind?” Fred’s voice ripped you from your daze as he began to walk beside you.

“Nope, nothing.” You shook your head reassuringly. Hoping he wouldn’t be able to see through your facade.

He did.

“Come on, you’ve been staring off into space.” He nudged you playfully, a small smile appeared on your face.

“Just thinking.” You shrugged and shook your head.

“Just thinking about what?” You mimicked your mumbled tone.

“It’s nothing!” You let out a breathy laugh, Fred stopped and stood in front of you.

“It’s something.” He grabbed your shoulders, his touch made it feel like there were fireworks bursting in your stomach.

“And you’re going to tell me.” He squeezed, tilting his chin down slightly to look you in the eyes. 

You sighed as you tried to decide if you should tell him the truth or come up with a lie he wouldn’t believe. It was a shitty shot in the dark, and you were going to take it.

“You.” The word came out muttered, yet Fred was still able to catch it.

“Me? Why me?” He smirked, removing his hands from your shoulders and crossing them over his chest.

"Because you're funny, and you know how to get me out of a mood." You fiddled with your yellow tie, not knowing what to do with your hands. “And you’re super smart and talented, you know how to make all these insane potions, you don’t care how others see you or if you get in trouble,” Your eyes darted around, looking everywhere but his face. You didn’t know where you were trying to go with this, but you continued on. 

“You’re charismatic and super handsome.” You sighed, you should quit talking now and cut this conversation short.

“And I just really like you Fred…I’m in love with you.” You scoffed in disbelief at yourself, by the time you were able to finally look at him, the smile had ranaway from his face. 

He said your name softly, pitfully. You both knew what was coming next.

“Look, I like you too. You’re a really great friend, you’re brilliant even.” He began, your gaze fell to the floor. 

You felt like an idiot, you felt humiliated.

You’ve been pining after him for so long, and now it feels like a moment of confidence has just ruined it all. You wanted to do so many things at this moment, you wanted to run, you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to slap yourself, you wanted to burst into tears.

Fred bit down on his bottom lip as his brows knit together, he was searching for the words.

“You’re talented and smart. And it’s kind of you to think of me like that, but...” He let out an awkward sigh, it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath your feet. 

 "I'm sorry, I just..I don't see you that way. I can’t say that I feel the same.” He gave you a tucked in smile.

A small, barely audible “oh” escaped past your lips. You nodded and tried to blink away the tears that were building up in your eyes.

It was quiet. So quiet and the look of sympathy on his face only made you feel worse.

“Well, uh, I better get going.” Your voice wavered, you tried your best to collect yourself. “I’ve got some papers to finish.” You sniffled and pushed past Fred, your steps speeding up as you walked down the corridor.

Fred called out your name once more, causing you to stop, you took a deep breath before you turned to face him.

“I really am. Sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have misinterpreted our friendship.” You gave a weak smile through watery eyes, turning away and continuing down the corridor.

Fred stood there, rubbing the back of his neck in guilt as he watched you quickly escape. George came out of his hiding spot from behind one of the stone pillars, giving his brother a rough pat on the back.

“Congrats mate, you’ve broken her heart.”

tell me what you thought!

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley angst #blurb #fred weasley blurb #request

[olderthannetfic]

I found myself rereading an old discussion about AO3 commenting culture (ye olde "Authors aren't owed comments" vs. "Readers aren't owed fic either" wank). And you know, it strikes me that a lot of the drama in such discussions is rooted in the fact that people only ever seem to engage with the worst things the opposite side says. And of course that leads to miscommunication, because the extremes are not generally applicable to most people.

Like, for instance. Someone going "I comment so regularly I practically gave myself burn-out commenting". Authors complaining about people who act entitled to stories aren't talking about you, I promise. They're talking about people who genuinely can't be bothered or go on flippant "Why don't you just write for yourself?" rants, while still enjoying other people's work. Ditto on the other side: people get offended at being called entitled authors, but odds are good the person isn't referring to you, who would simply like to not shout into the void, odds are good they're referring to the asshole authors they've met who'd throw hissy hits over comments that weren't phrased exactly to their liking, because yes, people like that do exist so it's simply flat out wrong to say "Just comment, authors are always happy to see comments, no matter how short! :)"

Also, a particular comment jumped out at me:

"It's not a consumer's job to compliment a promote an artist's work"

I generally agree that acting like people are owed comments is useless and stupid, but if I had to pick a phrasing that sums up my misgivings about common commenting culture, it's this. So many people seem to act like authors are getting a paycheck for this and don't need any additional motivator.

The other thing that bugs me is when people talk about all the reasons they don't comment (low spoons, anxiety, tired, etc.), but ignore the fact that authors have to deal with all of the above, too. And not just in fanfic. It seems any time there's any kind of social conflict being discussed (like, say, replying to a friend's messages in a vaguely timely manner) a ton of people will trot out excuses for why they can't do [insert what's generally seen as the vaguely courteous thing to do], but inadvertently act like that makes them special and like they're the only ones who have these legitimately valid excuses.

This started in one place and led to another, sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated with the Tumblr mental health culture of "I have a semi-specific reason I struggle with this so I'm not even going to try". I think people overcompensate too much for "Just don't be disabled!"-style ableism and swing too hard in the embraced helplessness direction.

Back to fanfic, every time I see the "I can't do it because of X" thing in the context of commenting, I can't help but think of how many authors also deal with depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, low spoons, etc. and how easy it would have been for them to give up, but they got through it and posted the fanfic anyway, and how often they're then met with silence because the prevailing attitude among their audience is e.g. "I read this before bed and was too sleepy to comment, and too forgetful to comment the next day". I think about some of the fic I've written, often fic written when I maybe should have been doing something else, or fic written at the cost of sleep, or hyperfixating at my keyboard for six hours instead of going for a nice hike with my family, and it's hard not to get a little bitter, you know? Talking about legitimate reasons for why commenting is hard just so often comes across as "You're free to make sacrifices to write the stuff I read, but I won't make any"

I also feel a bit bitter that it's impossible to even discuss these things in a vacuum without someone going "Discussions like this are why I've stopped commenting", as someone inevitably will in the notes of this post. "Just shut up and make your Content(TM) and don't complain about anything", is what it feels like.

--

The entire phrasing of reward and owing is stupid.

The reality is that lots of people won't produce work unless they feel like someone cares. No amount of moralizing or excuses will change that.

It's also the reality that posting to the masses on AO3 or tumblr will result in maybe one like or other interaction per hundred hits if you're really, really lucky. The rate has never been much better than that, and it never will be. It's often very much worse.

If one personally wants to encourage people, sure, go out and do that, but any call to action that ignores the above two realities is like fighting the tide.

I do think "It's not my job to promote you" typically comes up in the context of meltdowns about letting artists "languish in your likes" instead of being reblogged onto your actual blog and/or contexts where the artist/author/etc. is selling their work.

Here's the thing: people who never comment do not count.

They think they're part of a community. They're not. If you don't participate, you're a ghost.

When some author moves to a more enclosed space, a lot of people who saw themselves as part of something are suddenly left out in the cold, wondering why. But the fact is, if you don't pay the entry fee of socializing with others, you're nobody to them.

The entitled randos don't matter. If they bug you enough, take your toys and retreat to a discord with your friends.

[777-maple]

How I manifest everything

From someone who has been doing this for 3 years.

Table of context

1. EXCESS POTENTIAL

2. DO NOT GIVE A FUCK

3. FIND THE METHOD THAT WORKS BEST FOR YOU

4. DISCIPLINE

5. YOU DO NOT NEED TO DO MORE

6. 4V1

7. HOW NEGATIVES ARE ACTUALLY HUGE SIGNS

8. AFFIRMATION TAPES

EXCESS POTENTIAL:

Every time I've been overly fixated on manifesting something, it never quite works out. I've come to realize that relying solely on a manifestation for happiness creates a sense of lack. So, when the manifestation seems elusive, and I start feeling hopeless, I remind myself that I can find happiness independent of that specific outcome. I can be content right now and for the rest of my life, even if this thing never materializes.

Take the scenario of people manifesting their significant others. Relying entirely on that person for happiness isn't healthy. Even outside the realm of manifestation, your partner shouldn't be your sole source of joy. If the idea of not having them makes you believe you'll never be happy again, it's time to shift focus. Instead of obsessing over manifesting them back, it's about working on your self-concept and having a healthier perspective on relationships. I love my boyfriend, but if he left suddenly, I'd be sad, not thinking my life is over. It's about having a mindset that even if this particular thing doesn't work out, I'm still deserving of happiness and that happiness will come to me one way or another. And this may seem counterintuitive, however this is not me saying that you won’t manifest your desire and that you should be okay with that. I am saying that you need to be happy with or without because the 3d should never dictate your happiness.

DO NOT GIVE A FUCK:

Mastering manifesting requires not caring about the drama in the 3D world. Imagine unwanted things happening, and you just shrug it off, saying, "I don’t give a fuck." Add a bonus of "This will work out anyway." If your specific person hasn't replied, don't panic. Embrace the "IDGAF" mindset. "I don't give a fuck that they haven't texted back; they love me, and they'll reach out any minute now." After dropping this wisdom, distract yourself from the negativity. Watch a show, dance, listen to music—anything to divert attention. It's about cutting the drama and letting the universe do its thing. Repeat this as many times as necessary.

I applied this recently when two friends were dating, and I believed they weren't right for each other and I hated the way she treated him. Despite seeing them be all couplely in the 3d, I persisted in imagining their breakup. I would affirm occasionally “They are in the process of breaking up, I know that they’re about to break up”. After a week, they stopped hanging out, and eventually, they unfollowed each other. It took about two weeks.

FIND THE METHOD THAT WORKS BEST FOR YOU:

Honestly, none of the typical manifestation methods clicked with me. Affirmations gave me a headache, visualization overwhelmed me, meditation wasn't my go-to, and scripting bored me. So why don’t I like the holy grail of robotic affirmations? I appreciate affirmations, but I can't do them robotically 24/7; it's too stressful. I tried robotic affirming for two years without success. The key is finding a method you enjoy, not just focusing on its efficiency. If you don't enjoy your chosen method, find one that brings you joy. I have seen probably hundreds of robotic affirmation success stories, but since I never enjoyed affirming 24/7 it never worked for me. Ill get into my preferred method in a bit. But find one you enjoy.

DISCIPLINE:

Discipline used to be a challenge, but I realized it's crucial for manifesting. I stay disciplined by choosing a method, setting a 90-day goal, and eliminating distractions. I unsubscribed from manifestation coaches, delete twitter, tumblr, fb, and block tarot readers. Manifestation shouldn't become a distraction. Don’t let manifestation become your new Netflix. I no longer follow my favorite manifestation coaches, not because I dislike them, but because they served their purpose. I honestly do believe this step is crucial but a lot of people may not want to do it.

YOU DO NOT NEED TO DO MORE:

One day, it hit me that I rarely entertain opposing thoughts like “This won't work.” Instead, I find myself thinking, “I need to do more for this to work.” Identifying your specific limiting belief is crucial. In my case, I fell into a cycle of trying new methods because I believed I needed to do more. The pattern went like this: new method -> progress -> less progress/opposite results -> need to add a new method -> progress -> burnout -> giving up. Manifesting operates effortlessly 24/7, so consciously manifesting should be the same. Pick one method, stick to it, and trust it.

1v4:

Here's the affirming method I swear by (shoutout to GOATEDMANIFESTING on YouTube and TikTok– the only coach I actually care about and relate to 100%). I maintain a mental diet by monitoring my thoughts throughout the day. If a negative thought contradicts what I'm manifesting, I stop myself and affirm the positive opposite four times. For instance, if I think "He's getting bored of me," I counter it with affirmations like "No, he loves spending time with me; he's always excited to be around me." Repeat that four times, let go, and continue with what you were doing, all while keeping an eye on your thoughts. It's like facing four opponents in a fight – depending on the strength of the limiting belief, it might take some hits. If four people keep beating you up, even if you survive the first round, you would eventually give up.

HOW NEGATIVES ARE ACTUALLY HUGE SIGNS:

Everything only has meaning if you give it meaning. After observing the process of manifesting something new multiple times, I've noticed I often hit a sort of rock bottom. In the beginning, it involved a few days of confidence followed by uncertainty and worry. But persisting through it always led to improvement and successful manifestation. I've learned to assign a new meaning to these tough days – they're a massive sign that what I'm doing is imprinting on my subconscious. It's like my subconscious is "fighting back" against this foreign idea, but if I persist, it'll absorb and manifest. The resistance might show up as opposing dreams, intrusive thoughts, or even the opposite appearing in the 3D. Take it as a sign that after persisting, your subconscious will be impressed and manifest. Just stand firm during this time. Stand on business.

AFFIRMATION TAPES

This is my preferred method but imma just link a video that explains it better than I ever could plus I am tired of writing.

CONCLUSION

There is so so much more I have learned like how I don’t listen to depressing music anymore just shit that makes me feel confident, motivated or happy.

I have been obsessed with law of assumption for 3 whole years now and I know I still got a lot more to learn however this shit got me movement with my sp in 9 days after 2 years of hot and cold. It got me an A in my college algebra class even though it should be a B. It got my friend to end it with his toxic girlfriend. It got my other friend to end shit with her toxic best friend. I change my appearance and my confidence is through the roof and this is the first time in a while where I am completely content with my life.

There is a lot more I could talk about but thats for another day, these are just the main 7 points.

#law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #affirmations #manifesation #loassumption

[grandwretch]

only i must wander

[chapter one] [on AO3]

In the months before Steve's graduation, he and Dustin had something of a routine going on. Every Friday afternoon, Steve would pick Dustin up from Hawkins Middle School and they would drive out to the McDonald's one exit over. They even ordered the same thing every week: A Big Mac for Steve, nuggets for Dustin, two Cokes, and a supersized fry. After driving slowly back to Hawkins they would eat in the arcade parking lot, and when they were done they would either spend the rest of the afternoon trying to kill each other over air hockey or renting shitty science fiction movies. Whichever Dustin wanted, really. 

It wasn't anything like Steve's life had been just six months ago, but he loved every second of it. Even when Dustin was getting mud all over his upholstery and asking too many questions. 

On that particular Friday night, Steve had been late picking Dustin up because Mrs. O'Donnell had stopped him in the hallway on the way out, for the third time this month. Some bullshit about him not "applying" himself, or whatever, and how she didn't "feel it was right" that Steve had passed her class when he'd obviously learned so little. Which was bullshit, Steve thought, because she taught fucking English, which he already spoke, and he'd been pulling solid C's in her class all semester. 

So most of the conversation had been about that, really, with Steve complaining about how every teacher he'd ever had hated him, and Dustin scolding him just as fiercely as any teacher ever had. A typical Friday night. 

Tonight, however, Dustin paused, mid-sentence.

"Are you ever going to tell me why your eyes do that when you're mad?" 

Steve paused, a french fry halfway to his mouth. He looked over at Dustin, who was staring at him from the passenger seat. He was almost used to it, a kid spending every day in the seat next to him instead of Nancy or Tommy, but big, curious eyes still threw him off from time to time. Especially when they came paired with off the wall questions like this. 

"Why do my eyes do what, Dustin?" 

"You know," Dustin said, gesturing to Steve's face with his burger. "When you get mad they go all black and stuff. Kinda like El's do when she uses her powers, but you don't--" Steve had never seen Eleven actually fight, but he had seen her do small tricks now and again for the boys. Her eyes were more like pits, her entire face wrinkling around the deep depths. Steve felt his stomach churn just thinking about the same in his own face. 

The reflection in the rearview mirror was the same as it had always been. Hazel eyes, smooth skin marred only by a few moles. Steve made himself breathe. 

"I think I would know," Steve said, keeping his voice carefully steady. He was trying to be less bitchy around the kids, but sometimes they made it so goddamn hard. "--if my face looked like that. It probably-- It probably hurts, right?" 

"Not really," Dustin said, with enough conviction that it tore Steve's gaze away from his own reflection. "Anyway, it's not your face. It's just your eyes. Look, I don't know what kind of Wesen you are, man, but you can talk to me about it, whatever it is. You know I'm one, too, right?"

"A-- a what?" If this was another one of those weird fantasy novel things, he was going to finally strangle the little shit, he really was. 

"A Wesen," Dustin repeated, looking as confused as Steve felt. "Like-- like me and El."

'Like me and El,' Steve thought, turning the sentence around in his head. He was not equipped for this, Jesus. It had to be hard, growing up fighting monsters and stuff, and having one of your best friends be a weird ass superhero, but Steve hadn't expected Dustin to deal with it by playing pretend. He'd always been the most grounded in reality of the kids. It was why Steve could put up with him for more than a couple hours. 

"Buddy, maybe you should talk to your mom about this stuff," Steve said, slowly. "Or like Mrs. Byers or somebody." 

Dustin rolled his eyes, which Steve thought was pretty rich coming from someone sitting in his car and talking about made up words. "Oh my god, Steve. Look."

And then-- And then. 

Steve didn't know how to explain it. One moment, he was looking at Dustin, the kid he'd become absurdly attached to over the past semester, and then something shifted. In the next breath, Dustin was... different. Light brown hair had sprouted all over his face, smooth and straight and so unlike the curly mop still on top of his head. His nose had changed, the bridge gone flatter and wider, the end still hairless but now a deep dark brown, like a dog's. Underneath his nose, his lip was cleft, opened wide so Steve could see even more clearly the gap where Dustin's teeth should be. On either side of the cleft, whiskers sprouted, white and long. 

His eyes were the same, though. Dustin's eyes, staring out of a beaver's face. 

Two years ago, Steve would have screamed. He would have thrown things. He would have been out of the car in two seconds flat. His flight reflex had been recently shattered, though, and now all he could do was stare and try not to choose the other option-- fight. 

This was Dustin, Steve told every dark instinct swelling up in the back of his mind. This was his best friend. Not something that crawled out of the Upside Down, not something stalking through the night. His kid. 

Dustin blinked at him, with a silly smile on his inhuman face. "See?" 

Steve's hands gripped the steering wheel, fingernails digging into the leather. "Dustin, what the fuck is happening right now?" 

The smile faded on Dustin's face slowly. "Do you not-- Steve, come on. You've seen El do this like a thousand times." 

"She's El!" Steve said, his voice going higher with stress. He could feel his muscles start to shake with the effort of keeping himself in place. "She's got, like, powers and shit! She was born in a lab and experimented on! You're-- You're just Dustin!" 

"Okay, ouch," Dustin said. A pout began to form on his face. "Okay, yeah, El is special, but there are people who like her who are, like, normal Wesen you know?" 

"You keep saying that word." 

"You know, like--" Dustin gestured between them with-- Jesus fucking Christ, with a fucking paw. "You and me." 

Steve had to get out of the car. His heart was going so fast he could feel it in his ear drums, in the roof of his mouth. It took too long for his shaking hands to open the door, and by the time his feet hit the dirt, he could feel adrenaline churning his stomach. Behind him, he could hear Dustin calling his name, the passenger door opening, but it only spurred on Steve's desire to get away. 

He stumbled a few feet, his legs too weak to carry him far, until hands grabbed at his jacket. Steve whirled around, ready to fight-- Your kid! A smaller part of his brain screamed at him. --but Dustin was... Human again. 

"What the fuck, Dustin," Steve couldn't stop repeating. "What the fuck." 

"Steve," Dustin said, deadly serious. "Are you seriously telling me you've never met another Wesen before?" 

"Stop saying that." 

"What?" 

"Stop saying that I'm one of you! I'm not. I don't-- I'm normal. Stop saying that." 

Dustin's eyes were too understanding. Steve fucking hated it when he did shit like this, when he could just look at Steve and got him, because Steve barely understood why he did what he did, sometimes. How did this fucking kid always seem to know him? And if he could, why didn't anyone else ever manage? 

"Steve," Dustin said again, pitched low and calm like he was trying to soothe a rabid dog. Like Steve was a monster, crawling the junkyard, looking for blood. "Look at your eyes right now."

There was a compulsion in Steve's blood that would not let him look away any longer. He had to look, had to face his own reflection already knowing it would ruin him. Steve raised his eyes to the car window, and its distorted mirror image of his face. 

For a moment, Steve almost had hope. His face was not marked or pitted like El's, nor was it covered in fur like Dustin's. It was his nose, his skin, his moles, his mouth. The scars that littered his face in the last two years were faint, but still visible. Steve could still feel one of them in the corner of his upper lip. It was almost easy to miss, almost easy to chalk it all up to a bad joke. But then Steve met his own gaze, and all illusion was shattered. 

It was like a trick of the light; They were the same size and shape as Steve's own, lined with the same delicate eyelashes, but there was no mistaking the change. His eyes were black. Not the deep void that stared out of El's other face, no. At first they seemed dead and glassy, like a shark's, but the longer he stared, the more Steve became aware of something moving inside them, like smoke behind glass. 

Steve didn't feel his knees grow weak or his legs buckle underneath him. He barely felt it when he landed on the ground. One moment he was standing, and the next he was on the asphalt, staring up at Dustin. Dustin, who looked down at him with such a mixture of confusion and sorrow that Steve felt, bizarrely, like his change was more inhuman than all the fur and torn flesh in the world. 

"What the fuck," Steve said, his voice croaking in his throat. "What's happening to me? Dustin, what the fuck is happening to me?" 

"I don't know," Dustin said, and-- Embarassingly, Steve let out a thin noise of panic, because he was absolutely fucked if Dustin was admitting he didn't know something. "I mean, I have a theory, but..." Dustin cut himself off and looked around the parking lot. They were alone here, had chosen it specifically so they could laugh and play Dustin's tapes as loud as they wanted to, but he still scanned the area with more suspicion than Steve had seen out of him in months. It made Steve's instincts kick in, had him scrambling to his feet to put himself in between whatever danger Dustin suspected of the world around them. "We really shouldn't do this here." 

"Is this..." Steve swallowed, his hands shaking. "Is this Upside Down shit? Is it because of the tunnels? Did I-- Did I breathe too many spores in or something?" 

Dustin considered the idea for only half a moment before dismissing it with a shake of his head. "No, if this was a symptom, Will would have displayed the same ones while he was in the hospital last year. No, this has to be... Come on, Steve, let's go home. I promise, I'll tell you everything I know. Just not where people can hear us." 

"This is fucking insane," Steve muttered to himself, but he climbed back in the car, hands shaking. 

The ride to Steve's house was tense, neither of them speaking, although Steve could sense Dustin throwing him concerned looks the entire way. He usually hated when the kid did that, mostly because he didn't need a thirteen year old's concern, thank you so much, Dustin, but today it rankled Steve's nerves worse than ever. Everything in his body wanted to fight something, but the only enemy he could identify was inside his own head. Dustin's gaze on him only made it worse, made Steve so jumpy he imagined, several times, jumping from the moving car. 

Whatever was wrong with him, it didn't stop at his eyes. 

Steve stormed down his driveway and threw open his front door. Dustin scurried in after him as if afraid to be left behind, and Steve had a brief pang of guilt, but then he caught sight of himself in the long mirror that hung along the foyer and-- He turned away, swallowing bile. "Alright, kitchen," he said. "I need a fucking beer." 

They sat on either side of his mother's breakfast nook, the only place Steve ever ate alone. Steve had a beer, one of the last few he'd been nursing since his party days ran out. Dustin had a root beer in front of him, untouched. They stared at each other, unsure. 

It was time to be a fucking adult, Steve decided, and unstuck his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth. 

"What was that word you kept using?" he asked. 

"Wesen," Dustin answered, his mouth a grim line. "That's what I am. That's what El is. Or was? It's not really clear." 

"But it's what she was supposed to be," Steve said, and when Dustin nodded, he sucked in a breath. "And what I am." 

Dustin squirmed on his stool. "I think so." 

"So... So what the fuck is it?" Steve shook his head, confused by the very words coming out of his mouth. "Am I going to start growing fur? Or-- Or get all wrinkly or whatever, like El when she uses her powers?" 

"No, it's not--" Dustin paused, his face creased with the uncomfortable feeling of having no idea how to explain something. "I only know what my mom has told me, which isn't, like, a lot. But we're not like humans." 

"Yeah," Steve scoffed. "I got that." 

"What I mean is, we're part of the same community but we're not all the same. We probably have some stuff in common, but I don't know how much. I can't exactly go to the library to figure this stuff out." Dustin's voice held the long-suffering frustration of a child who'd been asking the same questions for a very long time, with no adult willing to answer. Steve was usually all for it, being the first to encourage the kids to say fuck adults and do it themselves, but he was still lost in a sea of information that made no fucking sense to him. 

"Can we just-- Explain it to me like I'm really stupid." 

"I want you to know that I'm not making a joke right now because I can tell you're in a really vulnerable place." 

"Thank you so much, Dustin." 

"You remember Star Wars, right?" Dustin asked. 

Steve's head tilted. "The movie you made me watch over Christmas break? With the laser swords? Yeah, I remember them." 

"Alright, so, everyone in that movie is an alien, right? Some of them look like humans, but they're not from Earth. And some of them don't look like humans at all. They're all from separate planets, some of them entirely separate species, but they're all aliens." 

Steve blinked at Dustin for a long moment before his face collapsed into disbelief. "We are not fucking aliens." 

Dustin's glare was legendary. "No, you idiot. But we're not human, either." 

"Then what am I?" Steve raised a hand to stop the answer he could already see coming. "And don't say Wes… That word. I can't just be not human. People aren't… whatever they're not. I have to be something." 

"I don't know," Dustin said. "I don't know a lot of the names. My mom is kinda…" 

Steve nodded. Mrs. Henderson's brand of flighty overprotectiveness was well known to the entire group, and probably most of Hawkins by now. Dustin was allowed to spend whatever time he wanted with Steve, even staying over at his house when Steve's parents were out of town, but Steve had also been horrified to find that Mrs. Henderson had woefully unprepared the kid for things like puberty or high school. Dustin said his mom didn't like to talk about things that upset her, and Steve guessed that other Wesen was one of those subjects, much like Dustin growing up or rock music. 

Steve felt himself begin to calm. Whatever happened, it was bound to be easier than the time he had to explain to Dustin what a pube was. 

"Do you think she might know?" 

"Probably, but we can't ask her." Dustin was beginning to look actually distressed. "There's no way she would let us hang out again." 

Steve's stomach sank. "Really?"

"When she found out the founder of the D&D club at Hawkins High was a Blutbad, she made me promise I would never join," Dustin said. Brightening, he continued, "Oh, wait, duh! Your parents have to know; They must be Wesen, too! Just ask them." 

Bradley Harrington's eyes had never gone black, Steve was pretty sure, though they had definitely been angry enough a time or two. He couldn't imagine his mother, Sophia, as anything less than human, either. They were both so… normal, although sometimes so damn keen on being completely on-trend that Steve suffocated with it. Half of the trouble Steve had gotten himself into over the years was more about calling too much attention to himself than legitimately bad behavior. Steve was sure they would be just as annoyed by having a genius like Dustin as a son as they were having an idiot like him. 

He tried to imagine what his father would say if Steve called just to tell them his eyes had changed color, and winced. 

"If they wanted me to know, they would have told me," Steve said, grimly. 

"Well, fuck," Dustin said, which Steve thought pretty much summed it up, yeah. 

After a moment of stewing in his own misery, Steve remembered to ask, "So what are you, then?" 

Dustin's chest puffed up with pride, and a ripple of fur sped across his face. "I'm an Eisbiber!"

"That means absolutely nothing to me, you gotta know that." 

"We're like beaver people, basically. Mom says it's impolite to compare people to animals but–" Dustin shrugged. "I call it like I see it. I'm a beaver. Lots of Wesen have animal attributes." 

"What, like a werewolf or something?" Steve asked, incredulous. 

"Those are Blutbads," Dustin confirmed. His voice dropped to a whisper. "But Mom says if you call a Blutbad a werewolf to their face, they'll eat you." 

Suddenly, Steve could only think of demodogs, their faces peeled open and saliva shining in the moonlight. All those fucking teeth. 

He nodded slowly. "I'll… keep that in mind." Shifting in his chair, Steve thought about the tight, inner group of the Party, and the way he hadn't really been a part of it before last fall. Even within their small group, there had always been an air of mystery about El and her origins. Even Nancy hadn't had many ideas, when Steve had gotten the courage to approach her about everything post-breakup, but if Dustin had known the whole time... "So how many people know about this stuff, then? Are Lucas and Mike like you? Is that why everything happened with Will that first time?" 

"I don't think Wesen are that common," Dustin said, "though that might just be a Hawkins thing? Like I said, it's hard to do research. Lucas and Mike don't know. I'm not sure how much Will knows, honestly." 

"But they know about El," Steve said, frowning. 

Dustin paused, looking guilty. "I know. That's the problem. Mike treats El like a superhero, and I'm not... Eisbibers aren't like Hexenbiests, especially superpowered ones made in labs. We mostly make things. I don't want him to think I'm... I mean. You know. It's bad enough, already, with the human shit." 

"Look, Mike and I have never gotten along, but I don't think he would do that. Whatever Wheeler is, a bully isn't one of them." Steve knew what a bully looked like. Scrawny, angry twelve years olds didn't make the list.

"Alright, so you tell them you're a--" Dustin paused. "A whatever, then." 

"I will," Steve said, "the second we can figure out what the fuck it is I'm supposed to be. What about Hop? I mean, how much would El have told him?" 

"Nothing about you." Dustin shrugged. "El was raised in a lab by humans, presumably. She didn't even know what she was. My mom had to tell Hop everything, and then made him promise me and El would never be allowed to hang out alone." 

Steve thought of angry little El, eyes painted to match her second face, who wanted to be with her friends so badly that she ran away to find her past. "I bet that Kali girl could have helped us." 

"Good luck finding her. I'm pretty sure she was half Musai," Dustin said. Steve wished he'd just stop saying shit like Steve was supposed to understand it. Being stupid about human stuff may be embarrassing, but he refused to be bullied for not knowing the names of every single race of a species he'd just realized he was a part of. 

"This is insane," Steve said. He slumped in his chair, and looked around his kitchen. It looked just like he'd left it this morning, the kind of half-cluttered that houses inevitably got when they were lived in by people who desperately didn't want to be there. Filled up with the necessities of life but abandoned just as quickly. Clean dishes haphazardly placed around the room and junk mail months old still piled on the counter. His bread box was empty, half a loaf of bread still sitting in its wrapper on top. 

It should be different, he decided. Not just his kitchen, but his entire world. That's how things had been when he'd seen the demogorgon in the Byers' house-- He'd realized things about the world in that moment that had changed everything. It was fast and violent, and the next morning he had looked at himself in the mirror and not recognized the kid looking back at him. It was the same for everything he'd ever loved, even the people, and while Steve had spent a lot of time looking back, he'd always known there was no resetting time before that moment. 

He was starting to think he'd preferred the violent realization to this slow roll of information. Now Steve was left with the knowledge that the world had already been just as it was, and Steve had just been unable to see it. Right under his nose. His parents, his best friend, his fucking kitchen... the same as it had always been. He'd just been looking at it the wrong way. 

That was a much harder pill to swallow. The demogorgon hadn't left Steve with much choice-- swallow or choke. Get it over with. Fight until you win. But how the fuck was Steve supposed to fight this? He felt helpless in a way he didn't often let himself be, disconnected from his body and vulnerable in the haze of his own thoughts. Like his soul was hanging raw and open in the space around him, and this part of him that was a living, breathing thing was left with no one home. 

"We're gonna figure it out," Dustin said. Steve blinked slowly and pulled his gaze back to the kid who'd just blown his worldview to smithereens. Dustin's face was pulled tight with determination, leftover baby fat bunching adorably in his cheeks. He looked like an angry chipmunk, Steve thought hysterically, and then corrected himself: An angry beaver. 

God, what the fuck had happened to his life? 

"I'm serious, Steve," Dustin said, when it became clear that Steve wasn't going to react outside of a foggy gaze. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? Me and you." 

"Yeah?" Steve said, the edge of a laugh in his voice. "We're gonna, what, hunt down what I am, what my parents are, completely on our own? You literally just said this shit was impossible to research." 

"We don't need that shit," Dustin said, scoffing. "When have we ever needed evidence? Or, like, adults?" 

Steve really wanted to protest that; As the older party and a practical adult himself, it was probably his job to insist on both evidence and adults for pretty much everything Dustin wanted to do, whether or not it involved fictional creatures that Steve may or may not be. The problem was, though, Dustin wasn't exactly... wrong. Hop and Joyce were the only adults that had ever been any help to either of them, and that was on a good day. Half the time they kinda just got in the way. Steve was pretty sure that if cops and doctors just listened to Nancy as much as they listened to the adults, they could have figured out most of this shit back in junior year. 

"Fuck, okay," Steve said, pushing his hands through his hair. "Sure. Goddamn it." 

"You are literally never allowed to tell me off for cussing again," Dustin said. He sounded unimpressed. 

"Sorry, is my breakdown upsetting you?" Steve shot back, but he felt his muscles unclench enough that it no longer felt painful to breathe. Dustin's snark was honestly calming, though Steve would rather die than ever admit it. Still, it was a good reminder that no matter how scared Steve was, things hadn't gotten so bad that Dustin had lost his particular brand of sarcastic zen. As much as the little shit loved to dig into the most dangerous curiosities he could find, he wasn't exactly the sort to smile calmly into the face of death, so... So whatever Steve was, he could deal with it. 

Probably. 

"I'm going to go home," Dustin said, jumping out of his seat. Ignoring Steve's small sound of protest, he continued, "and you're going to take a shower and then a nap. Tomorrow, once you've calmed down, we can do some tests." 

"Tests?" Steve repeated, his nose wrinkling. El had never really divulged what had gone on in the lab with him, but he knew just enough for his imagination to take over. He knew Dustin wasn't exactly the government experiment type, but he still hated the concept being applied to him. "See, this is exactly the kind of shit I didn't want to happen." 

"Tough shit," Dustin said, stomping his way out of the kitchen. Rolling his eyes, Steve followed. 

"Do you want a ride?" he asked, because he always did and, well... Whatever Dustin thought, Steve didn't exactly want to be alone right now. Also, he just found out there was a whole new kind of monster in this town, and every protective instinct in his body wasn't exactly jazzed about Dustin riding all the way home on his bike. "What about the B-- the Bad werewolves or whatever, you were talking about? You said one lived in Hawkins--" 

"Blutbad," Dustin corrected as he wedged his feet back into the shoes he'd previously abandoned next to Steve's front door. "And I think I'll be okay. I've existed in the same town as them for thirteen years and I haven't gotten eaten even once." 

"Not for lack of trying," Steve muttered under his breath, and then helped Dustin put his backpack on. Dustin let him, not complaining about being able to do it himself for once, and not for the first time Steve felt a small rush of affection for the kid. He knew not a lot of people understood why he and Dustin spent so much time together. Sure, sometimes the other kids were involved, Max and Lucas especially, but usually it was just Steve and Dustin. The other kids didn't really get it, and no matter what Dustin said, Steve wasn't sure they saw him as more than Dustin's big brother. As for Steve's old friends, well, Nancy had long stopped being impressed by Steve's ability to keep a kid alive for more than forty five minutes; She probably just thought it was pathetic now. Tommy sure gave him enough shit for it when Steve bothered to give him the time of day. God knew what Jonathan thought, outside of the stern nods they traded when Steve picked Will up for an arcade trip. 

They just didn't understand the warmth in Steve's chest when Dustin let him help with something stupid and small. It didn't matter if Dustin could do it on his own. That had never been the point. Helping the kid put on backpacks and jackets, fixing his hair, making sure his grilled cheeses were evenly toasted on both sides so the texture didn't turn his stomach-- No matter how much Steve bitched, he loved doing every little thing no one had ever done for him. 

"Listen, Steve," Dustin said, standing nervously in his doorway. "I want you to know that it doesn't matter." 

Steve dragged himself out of his sentimental reverie. "What?"

Dustin squirmed, face pinched with thought. "What kind of Wesen you are, it doesn't matter. I'm gonna help you because you want to know, and that's-- That's cool. You've got a right to know, just like El. But knowing didn't change El, and it's not going to change you. You'll still be Steve, and Steve's pretty great." 

Blinking, Steve couldn't respond for a moment. Finally, he managed to say, "Are you trying to pep talk me right now, Henderson?" 

Embarrassment flooded Dustin's face, creasing his brown and throwing blush across his cheeks. "Okay, fuck you, see you in the morning, douchebag." 

Laughing, Steve followed Dustin out the door and onto his front steps. "Hey, Dustin?" he called as he watched Dustin clamber onto his bicycle. Dustin looked up, eyes squinted in suspicion. "Thanks, man," Steve said, a blush rising in his own face. 

Dustin grinned. "Welcome to the club, asshole," he said, and then sped out of the Harringtons' driveway as fast as his little Gumby legs could carry him. God, Steve loved that kid.

Dustin kept his promise. He was there the next morning, before Steve's neighbors had even left for church, with a list of potential 'tests' to try out. None of them were the weird science experiments that Steve had been dreading. Most of them, in fact, were just Steve trying to flex muscles he shouldn't have. 

"Acid spit?" Steve read, incredulous. 

"That one's a far reach," Dustin admitted. Shifting through his backpack, Dustin pulled out item after item, and Steve lowered the list to look doubtfully at the large slingshot that now sat on his kitchen table. "But I didn't want to leave anything out." It wasn't a long list, Steve noted, and most of it was ridiculous. No matter what Dustin said, he was pretty sure he'd have noticed something like kisses that drugged people or the ability to lead rats around. 

Probably. 

"Fine," Steve said, giving up. "But we're not doing this shit outside where the neighbors can see. The last thing I need is another rumor going around about King Steve." 

"It's your house," Dustin said, shrugging, and threw the water balloon launcher over his shoulder.

To Steve's complete and utter lack of surprise, he did not have acid spit or any other set of superpowers. At Dustin's insistence, Steve ran across his backyard a few times, picked up some heavy things, caught a few launched tennis balls-- 

"I'm not playing anymore fetch," Steve decided, dropping the last of the tennis balls at Dustin's feet. 

Dustin glared up at him with all the tiny rage of a scientist disrespected in his field. At least, Steve imagined. He hadn't known too many non-evil scientists in his life. "I'm trying to determine if you have super strength or improved reflexes." 

"Oh, good," Steve said, and then flopped into his usual lawn chair. "I don't." 

"You picked up a grill," Dustin protested, but even he didn't sound convinced. 

"I was on three different sports teams for all four years of high school," Steve said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Dustin was only trying to help, and Steve knew he should be grateful. But once the panic had faded, all Steve was left with was this... irritation. Wasn't it enough that everything he'd ever known about his life had turned out to be a lie? One more lie on top of everything else turned out to be just one more pea under the princess' mattresses, and Steve was sick to death of vegetables in his bedding. "And I've been prepping to murder interdimensional monsters for the last two of 'em. Of fucking course I run fast and pick up heavy shit. It's, like, literally all I'm good at." 

"I give up," Dustin said, throwing his arms up. Paper floated down around them, escaping from Dustin's clipboard. "You're the most useless Wesen in the world! If I hadn't seen you woge myself, I'd think you were an Eisbiber!" 

"Jesus Christ, kid," Steve said, "Cool it on the beaver hate. Your mom's pretty cool." 

Dustin's glare was intense enough that even Steve knew it was time to shut up. They sat in silence for a moment, Steve placidly watching as Dustin squinted into the reflective light of the pool. Steve had no idea what Dustin was thinking, and didn't have enough context to guess. At this point, Steve was ready to chalk the whole thing up to a trick of the light and move on with his life. Eventually, though, Dustin shook himself out of it and sat on the other end of the lounger, close enough their knees bumped together. 

"Woge for me," Dustin demanded. Steve had learned enough that wogeing meant the change, the other 'face' that El and Dustin possessed. Dustin had talked about it at length that morning, talking about the difference reasons for it and how it might point to the truth of Steve's identity. None of the tests had worked, though, and Steve's eyes had stayed human. 

"I don't think it's the same thing for me, man," Steve said. When he saw Dustin about to protest, he rushed to continue. The last thing he needed was another Henderson rant about the scientific method or some other bullshit Steve wouldn't bother to remember. "I tried for hours to make it happen last night, just so I could make sure that it had actually happened. Besides, it's only my eyes-- And your thing is literally everything but your eyes. Those stay human."

"But El's don't." 

"El also looks like a literal diseased corpse when she changes," Steve said, tired. "Like we've said a million times, it's stupid to compare either of us to the girl literally created and then raised in a lab." 

Even Dustin couldn't argue with that logic, but it didn't phase him for long. "Fine, then we just need to replicate the last time you woged, so I can take notes of all the characteristics I may have missed the last time," he said, slipping back into the overly professional voice that Steve was almost certain he'd stolen from one of his doctors. 

Resisting the urge to groan, Steve frowned. "So, what, we have to go get in the car?" 

"Maybe, if it doesn't work here, but I don't think the place is really the important variable here," Dustin said, and Steve supposed it was a sign of how seriously Dustin was taking this if he didn't even pause to ruthlessly bully Steve for getting it wrong. "How did you feel the last time your eyes changed? What caused the feelings?" 

"Dustin, you were literally there," Steve sighed, but Dustin was already speaking over him before he could finish the sentence. 

"Yeah, but I'm not you! I don't know what instincts were happening in that big head of yours!" 

"I don't know, I was... upset?" Steve asked, and when Dustin rolled his eyes, he kicked at the kid's legs. "Hey! You're the one sounding like a fucking Hollywood therapist! What am I supposed to say? I just watched my best friend turn into a fucking beaver!" 

Dustin's eyes narrowed. "You think my woge triggered yours?" 

"I don't... know?" Steve leaned back in the chair, brow creasing as he tried to remember what had been going through his head before the panic of not recognizing his own reflection. The primal fear hung over every second of the memory now, but he knew that wasn't true. There had been adrenaline, yes, but Steve hadn't been scared of Dustin. His instincts had been more violent, almost angry. That had been what scared him, in the beginning. It hadn't been Dustin that sent him scrambling out of the car, but his own impulses. "When you changed, it made me... I thought I had to fight you." 

Dustin hummed under his breath. "Once, when we were in the city, Mom and I ran into this lizard guy in the hospital. He turned out to be really nice, but when Mom first saw him, she woged out of fear and he woged back-- I think it was probably some kind of predator-prey instinct. Maybe it's like that?" 

Steve felt a pit grow in his stomach. He didn't like the sound of that. "So, I'm like... A hunter?" 

"Unless you think you're the only natural prey of the North American beaver, yeah," Dustin said. 

Great, Steve thought, what a way to have every fucking bad thing anyone had ever thought about him confirmed in one fell swoop. Crossing his arms across his chest, he tried not to settle into a sulk. Pouting in front of the kid you were supposed to be a good influence for was embarrassing as hell, and probably even worse than being an instinct-driven murder machine. "Does that at least narrow it down?" 

Dustin made an unsure noise in the back of his throat, kicking his feet back and forth as he thought. "I mean, kinda. It means you're definitely not anything my mother will let me within five feet of, but we pretty much already knew that. The problem is that, as far as I know, most of the Wesen world is pretty dangerous. Even some of the prey animals are killers." 

"According to your mom," Steve said. He loved Claudia Henderson, he really did, but she thought her neighbor's Yorkie was two seconds from killing them all on a good day.

"According to my mom," Dustin agreed. "Look, let's just woge right now, and it'll confirm it." 

"You don't think that triggering my 'predator instincts' on purpose will be a bad idea?" Steve asked, shrinking in on himself. If he hurt Dustin over some stupid science experiment, he'd have to go ahead and drown himself in the pool. And he genuinely didn't think Dustin could take the extra trauma on top of everything else. 

"You'll be ready for it this time," Dustin said, and twisted around so they were face to face. 

'Ready' turned out to be mostly erroneous. There was no countdown, no time to prepare-- Their eyes met and then Dustin was changing. The fur, the nose, the cleft lip. It was all as Steve remembered it, all exactly as he'd played over and over again in his mind. Steve braced himself, waiting for the same rush of adrenaline, for the same muscle-clenching urge to fight. 

It never came. 

One moment passed, then another. Steve forced himself to breathe. "I'm not feeling any rodent murdering tendencies," he admitted, although he couldn't quite convince his shoulders to relax.

"Well," Dustin said, his tiny beaver face peering into Steve's. "Your eyes definitely changed. They're... Huh." 

"What?" Steve wanted to squirm under Dustin's gaze, uncomfortable with the very intense eye contact going on right now. Even though Dustin was looking at him, in his eyes, Steve didn't feel like he was being included in the interaction. If anything, it felt more like Dustin was watching something through him, and after all the multidimensional shit they'd been through, the last thing Steve wanted to think about was his eyes being a portal. "Come on, man, you're freaking me out." 

"They're reflective," Dustin said, his voice faraway with thought. 

"Yeah?" Steve said, confused. "So are everybody's."

"No, they're like mirrors. I can see myself completely. Every detail." Dustin's voice still sounded lost, and Steve swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. 

"That's weird," he said, eventually, when Dustin had proven that he had forgotten to even blink. "Um, can this part be over now? I'm not great at eye contact on a good day." 

After a moment, Dustin shook himself, looking just as confused as Steve felt. "Yeah, sorry, man," he said, frowning down at his notepad. "I don't know what happened. Maybe your species is good at hypnosis? Some kind of snake, maybe?" 

"Do I look like a fucking snake to you, Dustin?" Steve said, gesturing to his smooth skin and fluffy hair. 

"No," Dustin admitted, "but we don't really have any proof your species has an animal counterpart, either. El doesn't. And before you say it--" Steve closed his mouth. "-- I'm not comparing you to El. I'm saying that whatever a Hexenbiest is supposed to be, I don't think it was originally like me. Maybe they're not the only ones." 

Honestly, Steve hated the idea of his powers being anything like El's. To put it mildly, El's powers were fucking terrifying. Not the girl herself; It had been impossible to be afraid of El after Steve had gotten to know the sweet little girl that hid behind all that trauma. He adored her, really. But her powers? Steve genuinely didn't know how El slept at night, because if it were him with all that responsibility, he'd probably just have a heart attack. The more power someone had, the more opportunities they had to fuck up. Steve was proof of that. Having as much power as El was his worst nightmare. And if Dustin was right, that Steve might be something like her... 

"We should tell Hop about this," Steve decided. Immediately, Dustin groaned. 

"Come on, Steve! Hopper isn't going to let us dig into this and you know it!" 

"Yeah, and maybe we shouldn't," Steve said. "I don't know anything about this shit, and my parents aren't talking. But if you're right, and I have the ability to hurt someone, then Hop needs to know about it." 

Dustin's face softened. "You-- It's not like that, Steve. You wouldn't--" 

"You don't know that." Steve was on his feet again, pacing the concrete that surrounded his pool. "We don't know anything, and you've seen what happens when El gets angry. And what happened to Will last year?" 

"That wasn't Wesen related," Dustin tried to reason, but Steve was already shaking his head. 

"That we know of," Steve said, "and I think we've proven that neither of us actually know a goddamn thing about this."

"... Fine. But I want it on the record that I think this is stupid, and you would never hurt anybody, Wesen or not." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Your complaint has been recorded, and will be going directly into the trash. Do you have your walkie on you?" 

They went inside to collect Dustin's abandoned bag, his walkie still packed safely inside. They had given Hopper a Party-approved walkie the year before, when he decided that in case of emergency, relying on phones wasn't enough. Steve was pretty sure he'd given up on the Upside Down being a one-time thing, and making sure the kids weren't being eaten by monsters in the woods made everyone sleep better at night. They had a separate channel, though, for adult-included emergencies, because Hopper had threatened to arrest Mike for calling in a Code Orange over being out of toilet paper. 

Steve hesitated over the dial, for a moment, and wondered if discovering you weren't human was a Code Yellow or Orange. 

"It's not going to call itself," Dustin said, and Steve-- 

His eyes shut, all usual irritation at Dustin's annoyances drowned out by fear. Because he was so fucking afraid. Afraid of himself, yeah, but also a million other things. Like, how was he supposed to look Hopper in the eyes and admit what he was? Sure, Hop was okay with El, but El was a kid. His kid. Steve wasn't sure if he'd have taken the beaver thing half as well from anyone but Dustin. Wasn't sure he would now, even, and he was fucking one of them. Would Hop think he was a monster? 

Even worse, would Hop believe him when Steve said he was something to be feared? Steve wasn't sure if he hoped Hop would, or if he dreaded it. 

"Can you wait outside?" Steve asked, his voice shaking. He could already see Dustin gearing up for an epic bitch fit, so he quickly continued, "Just for a second. I swear, you can come with me. I can't do this shit without you, man." 

The admission made Dustin quiet. With shock or with mollification, Steve didn't know, but whatever it inspired in Dustin was enough to have him nodding and walking out the door. 

Steve turned the walkie to Hop's channel, and held the button down. "Chief, are you there?" 

There was a moment of quiet, and Steve thought- hoped? -that Hopper didn't hear him, that he might be busy or at work or maybe he'd thrown the stupid thing in a drawer somewhere, but eventually the speaker crackled to life. The chief's voice poured out, "That you, Harrington?" 

"Yeah," Steve said, the vowels coming out reedy in the tightness of his throat. "Yeah, it's me. Um... I got a... A Code Orange? Or maybe a Yellow." 

"I can never remember that stupid fucking system," Hopper said, and on any other day, Steve would have laughed. "You okay, kid?" 

Kid, Steve thought, his brain buzzing, when was the last time he'd been a kid? 

"No," Steve said, answering the question truthfully for the first time in years. "No, I'm not." 

There was a moment of static, and then, "You need me there?" 

Steve wanted to say yes. Steve wanted to sit on the floor and wait for an adult to come by and take care of it. Steve wanted a dad who would come home and make everything go away. But that wasn't the truth, and it would scare Dustin, so Steve took a deep breath and acted like a fucking grown up for once. "I was thinking that Dustin and I could come by the cabin tonight, actually. There's something there I think we might need." 

Hopper made a small, considering noise. "This about all that nastiness this fall?" 

"Dustin doesn't think so," Steve said, glad to be able to report some good news for once. "It's more… personal. But, you know, you have a lot in the cabin that might have answers, so…" 

There was a moment of dead air, and Steve wondered if Hop was weighing his affection for El against his need to protect Steve. Hopper was obviously more of a protective dad than Steve's dad had ever been, putting even Claudia Henderson to shame with his hovering abilities, and Steve… didn't begrudge El that. Really, he didn't. But there was a lump in his throat when he thought about Hopper leaving him to deal with this on his own. And he would, if it meant keeping his daughter out of trouble. Steve knew that without a moment's thought. 

He wondered what it said about him that the knowledge made his chest ache. Nothing good, probably. 

"Come on down," he said eventually, and something in Steve's chest unclenched. "You'll both stay for dinner." 

"Sounds good," Steve said, although they both knew it hadn't been a question. "We should be there in about ten minutes." 

"Yeah, I know where you live, boy," Hopper said with a snort, and then the line went quiet. 

Despite himself, Steve smiled down at the walkie as he threw it haphazardly back into Dustin's bag. No matter what changed, at least Hop would always be the same. He was the same as a father figure as he was when he had been a stranger breaking up all Steve's best parties. It was a small comfort, to see someone strong enough to not let all the craziness of their lives change him– A comfort that Steve let wash over him in the silence of his kitchen, breathing deep. 

Okay, game face on, he told himself. Keeping how badly this affected him from Dustin was hard enough, and he knew it would be near impossible in the face of El's observant gaze. He wasn't entirely sure how this would affect her, but keeping as calm as possible would stop her from freaking out, and that was always good for Steve's health. 

He loved the kid but, Jesus, she was scary sometimes. 

"So what's the game plan?" Dustin asked as they both climbed into the Beemer. "I mean, what are we going to tell him?"

"Stop trying to game the Chief," Steve said, with the air of an older troublemaker who had long since learned better. "It literally never works." 

"So, what, we just go in there and tell the truth?" Dustin said. He sounded uncomfortable at the idea, which Steve kind of understood. He'd been the same at Dustin's age, always lying and keeping problems to himself for genuinely no good reason. He was still working hard to break the habit, obviously. He didn't know why he did it, though, and Dustin probably wasn't even aware of it yet– It was just a knee-jerk reaction, something Steve had learned after years of proof that telling the truth rarely got you anything but grounded. 

"If we want Hop to help, he's gotta know what's going on," Steve said, with more confidence than he felt. Dustin argued for the entire drive, less because he disagreed, Steve was pretty sure, and more because it was easier than dwelling on the mystery. Sometimes your brain needed a break from the panic spiral of the unknown, and bugging the shit out of your best friend was the perfect solution, apparently. 

Steve sighed in relief when he rounded the last corner and the cabin slid into view. 

Hidden away in the depths of the same woods that abutted Steve's yard, Hopper's cabin was small and plain, unnoticeable from the main roads that cut through the town mere feet away. Steve wasn't sure how many people knew about the place, but those in the know rarely came by except by appointment. Even Joyce knew better than to roll up to Hopper's unannounced. If anything, such a bold move would be a sign that something had gone truly, terribly wrong. 

There was always a bit of nerves just before Steve knocked on the cabin door. Every time, something in him was convinced he would be turned away. The confirmation beforehand didn't help the anxiety, and Steve was never sure why– Maybe it was the feeling of constantly intruding on El and Hopper's new family, or maybe it was just the fact that they both could kick Steve's ass, but the initial frisson of nerves never faded even after Steve had grown comfortable in their presence. 

Hopper opened the door before he could knock, leaving Steve's hand hanging awkwardly in the air. 

"This doesn't look like an emergency," Hopper said, voice gruff– But his gaze swept carefully over the both of them. 

Steve opened his mouth to explain, or at least offer some kind of vague reassurance that would get them in the door, but Dustin beat him to the punch, as usual. "It's not really a human-type emergency." 

Hopper's eyes snapped to Steve, surprise and suspicion mixing together in equal measure. "You said this wasn't about the lab." 

Steve swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry under Hopper's gaze. 

"Most Wesen aren't man-made," Dustin said, suddenly huffy with offense. Steve would probably be offended, too, if he'd had a lifetime to adjust to not being human. Seemed kind of rude to start assuming people were created in a lab. "Look, can we come in? If I have to re-explain my entire society to you, I at least want to do it sitting down." 

To Steve's surprise, Hopper smiled down at Dustin and took a step back, shrugging. It wasn't exactly a grin, but it was there plain as day, small and fond. "Sure, come on in. El," Hopper said, raising his voice to shout across the cabin to his daughter. "Company's here!" 

El's door swung open on cue, all the proof Steve needed that she'd known they were coming the whole time. The girl all but sprinted into the main room, nearly tackling Dustin in a hug. They looked almost like siblings, all brown curls and wide smiles, and El's delight at seeing Dustin was effusive. Despite the stress of the last two days, Steve found himself sharing Hopper's smile. 

The kids chattered to each other, voices soft with delight, and Hopper made eye contact over their heads. "You hanging in there, Harrington?" It was the kindest way to say that he'd heard the panic in Steve's voice earlier, and embarrassment flooded through his veins. Steve appreciated the concern. Really, he did. But suddenly the shame of his own need to be cared for was overwhelming, and Steve had to fight the urge to back out of the house with a mumbled excuse. 

He couldn't figure this out on his own. This wasn't going away. 

Luckily, Hopper's voice had reminded El of their second guest, and she saved Steve from having to reply by pulling away from Dustin. "Steve!" she cooed, her voice still pure childhood. 

She went in for a hug, her face tilting up to beam at him, and– As their eyes met, El's face shifted. The rapidly familiar ripple of a woge, leaving behind the twisted, pitted skin of her second face. 

The black of her eyes burned like coals, and the intensity of them sung in Steve's veins as adrenaline shot through his blood. His hand, which had raised to pull El into a hug, shot towards Dustin, instead– 

Every cell in his body thrummed with instinct. He needed to get the kid out of here, away from the danger. He needed to put himself in between, needed to fight.

Before his hand could even land on Dustin's back, his feet were off the floor. 

Steve hit the cabin wall, the entire room rattling with the weight of El's power. He could hear Hopper and Dustin's voices, surprised and panicked, but their voices were lost in the ringing in his ears. He struggled in vain against El's invisible hold, rage mounting with every futile second. 

The part of him that still held on to rationality, the part that made him Steve, struggled to calm his pounding heart. He knew El wouldn't hurt Dustin, knew El wasn't the threat his body said she was, but it took everything he had just to bite down on the feral scream building in his throat. 

The strings of El's power were cut just as quickly as they were woven, and Steve slumped to the floor. There were hands on him, but he recognized them as Dustin's, and he let them hold him down. 

"I'm… I'm sorry," El said, her voice small. Steve wanted to cry at the fear there, even as the furious parts of him settled in smugness. 

He didn't look at her. He couldn't. Instead, Steve looked up at Hopper, pleading. 

"Something's wrong with me," Steve said, voice shaking. "You have to help." 

Hopper's face was grim, his mouth a flat line as he looked down at them. "You feel the Mindflayer on him?" he asked El, his eyes never leaving Steve. 

El was quick to shake her head. "No, it's not like Will. It was… I think it was me." 

"I already told you, it's not an Upside-Down thing! He's just a Wesen," Dustin said. His hands were shaking where he had them fisted in Steve's t-shirt. Steve leaned into them, feeling them steady against his ribs. 

"Like us?" Some of the unease faded from El, excitement in her eyes. 

"Not exactly," Steve said, still looking up at Hopper with guilty eyes. 

Dustin turned to El, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of having someone who would entertain his nonsense for once. "You noticed his eyes, right? That's the only aspect of his woge. I've never seen anything like it, have you?" 

El shook her head. "I've had woges forced before, but I–" 

"Forced?" Hopper repeated, and Steve slumped further into himself. 

"Steve didn't, though," El said, and her eyes drifted back to Steve. He didn't like the way her eyes went unfocused when he looked back, the same way Dustin had drifted into a haze earlier that day. "I was… afraid." 

"A prey response," Steve said, glumly repeating what Dustin had theorized before. 

"Not of you," El said gently, to Steve's surprise. "When your eyes went black, I could see myself in them. Not my body, but my…" Her face twisted in thought. "My self." 

"I did, too," Dustin said, frowning. "And Steve said he had the same initial adrenaline response, but I didn't–" 

"I didn't like what I saw," El said, her words clipped in the harsh, stilted way it had been when she was younger. 

All four of them sat in the silence that followed for a moment. Steve wondered if they were also trying to ignore what Steve was: The things El had done that Dustin hadn't, the things she'd had no choice but to become. He wasn't sure what El had seen staring back at her, but Steve couldn't imagine having to actually face the worst of himself. And how did his pathetic little life even compare to the things El had survived? 

Eventually, Hopper broke the silence. "I didn't see anything." The skepticism in his voice was palpable, but there was relief there, too. 

"Humans wouldn't," Steve said, a terrible realization creeping up his spine. "We were wrong, Dustin. It's not a predator thing. I think it's…" He huffed, trying to think of some kind of comparison. "It's like those butterflies that make themselves look like owls. They're trying to fend other Wesen off. Whatever I am, it's afraid of being hunted." 

"Alright, alright. This is–" Hopper rubbed a hand over his face, looking five years older than he had when Steve and Dustin had knocked on his door. "Start from the beginning. What exactly are we dealing with here?" 

Dustin and Steve shared a look. 

'You're the smart one,' Steve said with a shrug. 

'You're the one with the freaky eyes,' Dustin said with an arched brow. 

"Alright, so… It started after I picked Dustin up from school yesterday," Steve began. He ran them both through everything, even the parts that made him cringe. The first intense need to fight or escape in the face of Dustin's woge, the changes in his own reflection he couldn't replicate. 

El listened politely, sending Steve small smiles when she noticed him looking her way. Her obvious happiness when he or Dustin included her in their discussion of Wesen almost made Steve feel guilty for hating this. He knew isolation, both real and metaphorical, was the hardest part of El's slow integration into society, and having more Wesen around was probably a dream come true, but– Steve wasn't that guy. He didn't know a damn thing about being Wesen. He was just… human with a condition. 

Besides, whatever levity El brought to the situation, Hopper was apparently determined to stomp out. His face was that of a man facing down a firing squad, one who was fucking pissed about it, besides. When Dustin mentioned Steve's parents, he practically went apoplectic, turning away as his face went redder and redder. 

Whatever the fuck that was about. 

"So we decided we should come to you," Steve said, gesturing, "because you would know what to do about… me." 

Hopper's face didn't get any less angry. El, who had apparently just noticed her father's countenance, looked between them with wide eyes. 

"What to do about you," Hopper repeated, voice flat. 

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding. "Like you did with Will." 

El and Dustin both flinched, but Hopper was made of stone. Nothing but long, uncomfortable eye contact from him. "I don't think there's anything to be done here, kid," Hopper said. 

Steve couldn't suppress the full-body reaction to that, scrambling to his feet. Adrenaline was hitting him again, sending his already exhausted heart into paroxysms, but now it was true fear. Not of some imagined enemy, but of himself. "I can't just be around people like this, Hop," he said through gritted teeth. 

"You're around people now." 

"That's my fucking point! I have like four fucking friends in the entire world, and two of them turned out to be the exact kind of people that I'm a danger to. The only reason El isn't hurt is because she can kick my ass," Steve pushed a hand through his hair, feeling it stick up at the ends from leftover hairspray. He didn't care. He wanted to pull it out by the fucking roots. "What if I go to the grocery store and meet a Wesen in the fucking dairy aisle, Hop? What about the next time I see Mrs. Henderson?" 

"You didn't want to hurt El," Hopper said, his voice calm but his face still marred by anger. "You were reaching for Dustin. You wanted to protect him." 

"You can't know that for sure. I can't– I can't control myself when I'm like that," Steve said. "It took literally everything I had not to hurt my own fucking kid." 

"Me?" Dustin squeaked.

"You can. I know what someone out of control looks like, Harrington. You aren't it." 

"Why can't you just fucking help me?" Steve said, his voice going reedy with desperation. 

Hopper sneered. "I'm not going to help you punish yourself for something you haven't even done yet." 

"I think maybe we should go outside," El said, and Dustin nodded eagerly. They both scurried outside like they were being chased. 

"Stay where I can see you!" Hopper bellowed after them. Steve blinked back tears, shaking in the silence the kids left behind. Hopper took a deep breath. "Look, kid…" 

"I don't get why you won't help," Steve said, his eyes falling to the floor. "It's not punishment when it's El. Why can't you–" 

"El could control herself," Hopper said. "She just didn't know that she needed to. She's still learning how to be a person, Steve. She's just a kid." 

"Right, right. Sorry," Steve rubbed at his nose, willing his tears away. "I'm sorry I bothered you, I–" 

"That's not…" Hopper sighed, grabbing one of Steve's shoulders in one big hand. "What I'm saying is that you're already a good kid. I don't have to worry about you getting yourself or somebody else hurt." 

"I get myself and other people hurt literally all the time."

Hopper rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. You're not going to hurt the kids, and I don't believe you're going to start attacking randoms in the street. You're still you." 

"But…" Steve swallowed around a dry throat. He didn't know how to make Hopper understand, didn't know how to make him care. He'd never been very good at that. Half of his life, Steve had been begging people to care. None of it had ever worked. "Alright. I get it." 

Hopper nodded, looking relieved. "Just go home, Harrington. Lay low for a little while. Get used to the new instincts." Steve still wanted to protest, but he agreed. "Good. Let's get outside, before those kids start some trouble." 

Steve followed Hopper out the cabin door, head held low. Dustin and El were waiting for them on the porch, sitting on the edge with their knees pulled up to his chest. They weren't talking, just watching the door with their bright, expectant faces. 

"It'll be fine," Hopper told them, voice calmer than it had been inside. The kids deserved that, Steve told himself. "Steve's got this." 

"Yup," Steve said, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. "It's all under control." 

El darted forward, throwing her arms around Steve's chest and clinging. Steve tried not to meet anyone's eyes over her head and hugged her back just as hard. 

"I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered, heart twinging in his chest. Not much scared El, and now he was on the list. What did that say about him? 

Squeezing even harder, El shook her head, rubbing her face against his chest. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault," she said. It sounded like she was mimicking someone, and Steve wondered if Hopper had done that for her. If she'd been held close and told everything would be okay. 

Swallowing around his jealousy, Steve held on until El stepped back and smiled up at him. "You'll have to give me some tips on how to do this Wesen thing," Steve said. "Dustin's terrible at it." 

She smiled up at him. "We'll learn together." 

Dinner was a simple affair. Hopper hadn't let Steve help at all, so he had sat on the couch and watched Dustin and El play card games until spaghetti was on the table. The kids were loud and chaotic, thrilled to be around each other again, and it didn't matter that Steve only talked when someone asked him a question. Somehow, he made it through the meal, even when every bite churned in his stomach. 

Even when Dustin kept sending him little looks of concern, always too perceptive for his own good. 

They said their goodbyes quickly, even when El begged them to stay. Hopper, laughing, had told her they couldn't stay forever, and waved them out of the cabin and into the car. 

When Steve pulled into the Henderson's driveway, Dustin hesitated before opening the door. 

"So, I've been thinking," Dustin said, "and I don't think I should go to Camp Know-Where this year." 

Immediately, Steve knew he had fucked up. Dustin had talked about little else since the spring semester had started. No matter what problem he'd had, whether it was bullies or how boring his classes were, Dustin had changed the subject to how good this summer was going to be. And Steve got it. Really, he did. If he'd grown up in a town where no one cared about sports and bullied him for liking basketball, he'd be fucking stoked to spend some time with people who understood him, too.

But now Steve had ruined that for him, too. 

"Absolutely not." 

"I can't just…" Dustin looked distressed, and Steve was all the more determined to send the little shit to camp himself. "What if something happens while you're away?" 

"What's gonna happen?" Steve said, even as his brain played a horror film of all the things he could do without Dustin as a buffer for the rest of the world. He tried to borrow a little of Hopper's confidence. "I just have to get a handle on my instincts, that's all." 

"I don't think sitting in your house alone all summer–" Dustin started, but Steve cut him off, slicing his hand through the air. 

"You're going to your shitty little nerd camp, Dustin, and that is final." Before Dustin could protest again, Steve continued, "I have to get a job this summer anyway, remember? Official Bradley Harrington decree. Even if you stayed home, we wouldn't be able to hang out all day. You can't, like, come to work with me." 

Dustin didn't look convinced. "What if something happens?" 

Honestly, Steve didn't know, either. "You know, I'll call…" Who? The last thing Steve wanted was to disappoint Hopper, so he and El were out. The kids were too young to help with this shit, anyway, and Steve didn't really know many other people. That only left… "I'll call Jonathan or Nancy, okay?" 

"You're really gonna call your ex-girlfriend and tell her you went insane and beat the shit out of somebody?" 

Steve sighed. "If I say yes, will you go to camp?" 

Dustin nodded. "Honestly, I kind of hope you fuck up, now." 

Closing his eyes, Steve responded: "Get the fuck out of my car, Henderson." 

The rest of the spring went smoothly. Steve kept to himself at school; He had already descended into minor loserdom after everything with Billy, so it was a piece of cake to stop making eye contact with anyone he wasn't completely sure was human. Graduation came and went with little fanfare. He skipped the ceremony, and made up some shitty excuse about a vacation with his parents. 

He and the kids ate pizza and watched movies all night. Steve pretended not to see the pity in Nancy's eyes when she picked up Mike and Will the next morning. He waved politely at Jonathan and closed the door.

A few weeks later, Dustin left for camp. 

He started work that same week, and Steve was grateful for the distraction. Orientation was a quick affair, the manager running him through health and safety protocol and quizzing him on customer service. Steve wore his best mask the whole time, smiling at all the right times, frowning thoughtfully when he was supposed to. 

"Let me introduce you to your coworker," the manager said, and led Steve into the back room. A girl sat at the table there. She was wearing the same awful uniform that Steve currently held in his hands, but Steve could still see the nerdom radiating off her. Something about the hair and the tacky thrift-store jewelry. This wasn't one of 'his' crowd, and Steve breathed a little easier for it. "Steve, this is Robin Buckley. Rob–" 

"I know who he is," Robin said, and raised her head. 

The woge rippled across her face, revealing fur and piercing golden eyes.

[Next Chapter]

#my fic #monster hunting and werewolves and such #but it's slow burn #steddie #steve harrington #super steve centric #also autistic steve imo #uh yeah das it #only I must wander

[relatableblorbopoll]

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 6

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

propaganda under the cut

Jesper Fahey (Six of Crows)

No Propaganda

Crowley (Good Omens)

"He's gender. He's been in love with one guy for literally 6000 years and then royally fucks up his entire confession. He yells at his plants. He drapes himself over every fucking surface he sits on. He walks like *that*. He just fuckin makes sounds sometimes. He's me fr."

Dave Strider (Homestuck)

"everything that can be said about Dave's relatability will probably sound redundant, clichéd, or overdone if you are at all familiar with tumblrs sort of blorbo culture. this is exactly why he should be in this tournament.

stop me if you think that you've heard this one before: he hides his genuine emotions behind a persona, deflects sincerity with jokes, but also has a deep desire for validation and connection, so that his persona has many cracks where little bits of his true self slip through. deeply insecure, compares himself to others. a defeatist streak, avoids responsibility. does not wish to be troubled by The Horrors. he just wants to hang out and do his lil creative hobbies (making music and drawing comics). talks a lot to the point of being pretty awkward, rambling, and accidentally saying stuff he shouldnt.

all these things I think tend to resonate deeply with a lot of people, especially on Tumblr - that "person who is insecure and struggles with emotional openness so copes by making jokes" sort of trope, it's just like kin bait (affectionate). he also has a complicated relationship with gender which I know many find relatable (shout out to the "Dave homestuck was my trans awakening" homies) but whether it's about figuring out gender or sexuality or trauma or the apocalypse or anything else, Dave comes at it with an initial, learned, fear and reluctance that I think a lot of people have experienced, because it's very human and very much a part of many readers experiences (we live in a society). but he's always good, and likeable and that makes for a very important sort of relatable character. very comforting. even if he's a mess and he's an idiot you can believe he can get to something better, and you can watch him develop and grow.

also, I think he's extremely relatable because he never really knows what's going on in the comic either. I mean, that's gonna be relatable to most people Vis a vis homestuck. he's confused and he just wants to vibe and make his friends laugh. WHO AMONG US cannot relate?? I do not believe you if you say no.

I wrote too much and got way too weird about it. I'm sorry it's late I'd edit down but I really don't have the brain capacity.. which is very Dave core of me actually"

Junior (Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race)

"i relate to him a lot because his whole character is being embarrassed of his dad who tries too hard to be cool, but still loves him anyways. that is literally me"

Kim Dokja (Omnicient Reader's Viewpoint)

"kim dokja. oh kim dokja. so, without going into spoilers too much, kim dokja is very much a character you are expected to relate to and it makes the novel DEVASTATING. here's just a few things about him: - he is obsessed with a particular piece of media, and finds comfort in it when real life doesn't give him any. he's constantly thinking about it and defending it and trying to recommend it to other people (even though no one else bothers reading it, because it is an objectively bad 3000-chapter webnovel). even beyond that one novel, he's been using fiction as an escape for just about his entire life, something that rings true for a lot of people, especially in the modern world. - he struggles with socializing with other people. the first chapter alone gave me so much second hand embarrassment. it's so real but god it's So bad. he has zero friends and has that sort of loneliness where you're miserable but you can't really bring yourself to feel anything but resigned to it. in general he is just very Resigned to his unfortunate life and can't fully understand or accept it when it finally does get better - he has a complicated relationship with his mother. it's the kind of relationship where the parent genuinely does love their child, but they fail to give them what they need & have to accept that they hurt their kid and that they cannot be the most important person in their life. it's certainly not a universal experience but those sorts of parent-child relationships are woefully common but scarcely acknowledged -the insecurity. god there is so much insecurity in that man. it's hard to even completely tell it's there at first, because it's so ingrained in how he thinks that you don't question it until you know more about his character and suddenly it's all too apparent. he cannot believe that he can be loved (or, if that he can be, that they certainly would not be able to love all of him, only what he chooses to show them), and is selfless but like. the literal meaning of the word, where he will throw away all of his being for the people he loves. in general there is a lot of sacrifice as a love language which like. while i'm not off around throwing myself in front of magic death beams for people or anything i sure would give up everything i could if it meant helping the people i love - ok enough of that. here's some funny things i can relate to. the guy meets his favorite fictional blorbo and instead of worshipping him instead he bullies him constantly and internally complains about how unbearable he is both in the book and in real life. it's like a "i love my blorbo. i would not last 2 seconds in a room with him." You know. he gets so caught up in his fanon characterizations and biases about characters that he completely mischaracterizes them like constantly. he literally kills a guy half because he was his least favorite character. -this is a poll about blorbo relatability. therefore i must mention that kim dokja too related to his blorbo (or at least attempted to) and what is more relatable than that. anyways. kdj made me realize far too much about myself and is by far the most i have ever related to a character (and i Hate it). and tumblr would definitely relate to him too so :thumbs-up:"

"(SPOILERS) He is literally all of us. Reader. Just some guy. And then insane tragic backstory. But he’s also just some guy. He’s special and also just a guy. He’s also god. He can be shipped w anyone. He has versatility and interests and motivations. He also never tells anyone anything ever. He is so me."

"He reads a trashy, long-ass novel as a coping mechanism and doesn't think he's capable of being loved. Bro dissociates when he's emoting too much."

"I'm a homestuck fan, a Dave Strider fan even Never heard of Omnicient Reader's before Voted for the kim fellow because judging by the propaganda it looks like he himself would be a homestuck reader therefore making him more relatable than the homsetuck character himself"

"This guy’s been my companion since I was 11, I’ve grown up with Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint and I think that’s pretty funny since he grew up with Ways of Survival (the 3149 chapter novel) and therefore I’m straight up mirroring him. I, too, scare everyone off by being too enthusiastic whenever the webnovel is brought up! His insecurities are severe but I do see myself in some parts of him (which is worrying but whatever.) He is absolutely The Guy Ever. Utterly pathetic wet cat of a man. I love him. He represents the crazy fandom tumblrina in all of us."

Donutella (Tokidoki)

"she's made of donuts basically like me at this point"

#tumblr tournament #tumblr polls #character bracket #character tournament #preliminaries #jesper fahey #six of crows #crowley #good omens #dave strider #homestuck #junior total drama #total drama #the ridonculous race #kim dokja #omniscient reader's viewpoint #donutella #tokidoki

[gaslysainz]

Lost (PG10) pt4

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, explicit scenes and languages.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! I present to you the 4th part of my fanfic. I'm overwhelmed by the response ❤️ Really Thanks a lot to everyone who had liked the story so far. Something's have started to cook. Hope you look forward to it. Love You All 😘 Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

This one's a filler chapter, so please bear with me.

Something completely different happened today. A knock at my door woke me up from my 1 hour nap which has unfortunately turned into a 3 hour nap. I stood up from the bed and opened the door only to find my husband standing there and running a hand through his curls. Oh! What a sight! He looks like a Greek God.

"Hey! Did you need something? I'm sorry I fell asleep, also you can come inside"

He thanked me and entered my room, this is completely new. But nonetheless, I had to take a chance. He was looking around the room and the pictures hanging on the walls. His eyes stuck to one picture in particular. A picture captured by Pierre's mom of Isaac, Pierre and myself. It was Halloween and Isaac wanted to be a Vampire and on the other hand Pierre and Me were Romeo and Juliet. He was 6 and I was 4! We did not even know who Romeo and Juliet were! It was because of the elders who had insisted on these costumes! Oh! What I'd give to have those days back.

"You need something?"

"Ah! No, um actually yes, I have to attend an event with the rest of grid tomorrow. And you have to come with me. So be ready by 7pm tomorrow, will you? Wear something nice. I'll send someone with dresses for you to choose today in the evening. Just pick something from there."

There it is! Like I've mentioned before, he only remembers me when he needs something or needs to go somewhere to show off the world our so called amazing married life. *Scoff* But I'm not mad, at least I'll be able to meet HIM after so many days. The only person who happens to care even a little bit for me. Who always greets me with a beautiful smile on his face. A friend? Nope, he's like an angel for me.

I really hope everyone gets a friend like him!

" *Cough* *cough* You there?"

" Oh yea! I'm sorry, I was a bit distracted. Umm, Why don't you take Julia with you? I'm sure she would love to accompany you and also I'm sure she has several dresses in her wardrobe already. Won't even have to buy a dress last minute"

The look Pierre gave me after I mentioned Julia simply yelled 'ARE YOU CRAZY'. I mean I knew why he wouldn't take Julia, but I just find a different kind of satisfaction by reminding it to him.

"Um, I'll be ready tomorrow. Don't worry. By the way, where's Julia?"

"I sent her home, no need for her to stay here for these two days, either way we'd be busy. It'll only distract us."

Oh well! That was odd! Distract us from what exactly? Sometimes this man leaves no tables unturned to confuse me to no end. Anyways. I know better now than to crack my brain over these things. It's actually useless cause I won't get anymore clear answers from him than this.

"Any specific colour that I need to keep in mind while choosing the dress?"

"Not that I'm aware of, just keep it a bit formal. I'll get going. If Julia calls or comes asking for me, just tell her I've been out for a meeting since morning."

And then he rushed out the door, not before checking our childhood photo once again. Okay! That was highly confusing! I mean why was he avoiding Julia? Or am I reading too much between the lines? No one knows. I better go eat something until then.

But still, I'm a bit lost here.

LOST in confusion.

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️

@peachiicherries @crimeshowjunkie @oblomovissad @torossosebs @janeholt3

#pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly #f1 x reader #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #f1 #formula1 #alex albon #daniel ricciardo #angst #arranged marriage #unrequited love #yuki tsunoda #lewis hamilton #lando norris #max verstappen #sergio perez #george russell #mick schumacher #oscar piastri #lance stroll #esteban ocon #fernando alonso #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen #logan sargeant #zhou guanyu #valtteri bottas #marriage

[max1461]

I was asked by @cardassian-artistry:

I don't want to argue or anything, I'm just curious. What are your critiques of Marxist economics?

Ok, so, I want to clarify that I am neither an economist nor a Marx scholar. I am an informed lay person, who has also had the opportunity to spend a lot of time talking to my close friend who is an economist (well, sort of; his work is at the intersection of econ and CS). He's also very left-wing, and we've both read the relevant portions of Marx and have discussed Marx's place in the history of economics quite a lot, so I have, I think, more informed opinions on this particular topic than most people.

Right, ok, so there are a few things to note about Marx's economic theories. The first is that he does not really propose any sort of economic model in the modern sense. Ideally, an economic model should be predictive (probably a lot of Marxists will already disagree at this point, but I think it's not worth arguing with them because I doubt I will convince anyone). That is to say, an economic model should look at measurable quantities about some part of the economy, and relate these quantities to other measurable quantities, so that we can make predictions about how the economy will behave under different conditions.

Many modern day, orthodox economic theories do not meet these criteria. Those theories are also bad. Or, more accurately: they aren't even theories at all, they're just like, vague ideas. We should have higher standards than that for our economic models.

Anyway, predictivity: Marx mostly doesn't attempt to achieve this. He sort of gestures at a specific, predictive model when he talks about "congealed labor time" (I'll get to this) and so on, but he doesn't make it mathematically or measurementally precise enough to actually use it for anything, or to test if it's true. So there's a sense in which, by the epistemic standards I hold at least, Marx's theory of the economy is not actually saying very much to begin with.

Marx does, however, make some qualitative but testable claims. These are mostly sort of divorced from his economic theories as such, it seems to me, but they are claims pertaining to the economy, so they're worth evaluating. Most prominently, he claims that capitalism is bound to undo itself and give way to communism, via proletarian revolution. He very much thought this was going to happen in his lifetime or in the period immediately after. This did not pan out. You can make excuses for why this hasn't happened yet, as the early Christians did when the rapture didn't come, but I don't think any of these excuses are very convincing. He claimed this and he was wrong. As others have pointed out, at least Marx made a claim which could be proved wrong, which is braver than many thinkers—and probably cannot be said of many of his contemporaries in classic economics.

The second big point about Marx's understanding of the economy is that it comes largely from Adam Smith, whose work he studied intensely. Marx's early work is less concerned with the technical details of the economy, and was of course influenced above all else by Hegel. But Marx's later, more economic work draws very heavily from Smith.

Adam Smith's work has all the same problems. Economists like Smith, Marx, and Ricardo set the groundwork for what would come later, but their understanding of how economies actually behave was both far too simplified and far too mathematically unsophisticated to be useful as such.

And, right, this brings us to the labor theory of value, which Marx also gets from Smith. Well, modern economic theories tend not to use a "theory of value" at all, because… what does that even mean? How do you measure "value"?

Is "value" price? That's something you can measure! But Marx seems to say "no", value is not just price. And if value was price, then Marx's theory of value would be straightforwardly false. Marx claims that the value of a good is proportional to the average labor time it takes to produce that good in the given society in which the good is being produced. Well, this is not true of price (in Marxian terms, "exchange value"). So Marx's "value" cannot be price, if his theory is to hold water.

What is it then? Well, Marx and Smith don't really say. And they definitely don't say how to measure it. So their claims about value and labor time and so on don't amount to much, they don't really amount to testable claims about the real world. They amount to claims about this ill-defined idea of "value" that has relevance only internally within the system of Marxian thought. As such, many of Marx's economic claims don't actually say anything about the economy to begin with.

The upshot is that a lot of Marx's specific claims about the economy are either untestable or simply wrong, which is pretty damning. His theories are far too simplistic to model the economy accurately, and his dialectical method—far from remedying this simplicity—simply introduces more vagueness into his claims.

Marx did not know calculus. With a few lucky exceptions, it is generally difficult-to-impossible to model any real world process of significant complexity with any precision without calculus. Basically every modern day economic model makes use of differential equations. Marx, Smith, and Ricardo did not. A priori, therefore, it would be very surprising if their ideas turned out to be correct. And they don't.

So, I've been pretty hard on Marx. Is there any value to Marx's thought?

Well, I think, yes. Quite a lot, in fact.

Marx's work is sometimes split into an "early Marx", for example as represented in the 1844 Manuscripts, and a "mature Marx", as represented in Capital. People debate the degree to which there is continuity between these two periods, or whether the periodization really makes sense at all. But it's undeniable that Marx's thinking evolved significantly over the years. In particular, Marx's early work is much more concerned with the humanistic effects of living under capitalism. This is where Marx's theory of alienation comes from. He is concerned, everywhere but especially in this early writing, with how it feels to be an industrial worker in a capitalist society. And I think his analysis here is absolutely spot on. It has, in fact, been pretty influential on my own thoughts about markets and private property.

Marx also advanced a materialist conception of history, and of society generally. I think Marx's materialism was too teleological, and too wrapped up in nineteenth century ideas of Progress, but I still think that to a first order approximation his assertion that history is driven by the factors of production was basically correct, and was not remotely obvious at the time. For this I think he should be celebrated.

I think Marx was, in a certain sense, a victim of his time. Almost all the critiques that can be made of his economic theorizing per se are found in the writing of all the classical economists. And it is in this domain where I think he makes the most demonstrable errors. That is to say: most of what is bad in Marx is not that new, and (I think) most of what is new in Marx is quite good.

There's another reason to take Marxism seriously, too. I think that a really significant amount of good thinking about history, society, and the nature of wealth and power has been presented under a "Marxist" heading, or assumes fluency with Marxist ideas. From Marxist humanists like E.P. Thomson to the revolutionary leaders of Third-Worldism. Not that any of these people are above critique, to be sure. But anyway, in this regard I think Marx's thought is a lot like Bertrand Russell's work on logic (I love the Marx/Russell comparison, because they both would have hated it): less important for its actual content than for the work of the people it inspired, and for the century+ of ideas they produced.

#society #navel gazing

[desceros]

Hey, if this is too personal totally feel free to disregard this! But I've seen you mention having adhd more than once, and I know a super common symptom is executive dysfunction. The professionals I see aren't sure if I have adhd specifically, but they agree that I definitely have major executive dysfunction issues. Like... it feels like an actual, physical wall between me and the things I need to do, and even want to do. This wall feels... impossible to scale. I think that's just executive dysfunction in general, though, and isn't really unique to me. I just wanted to know if you have any tips that help you do the things you want to do or need to do even when it feels impossible? I've tried so many of the tips I see online, I've done quite a bit of research into the mental illnesses I do have and even the ones I likely have, and... I don't know. I still just feel stuck. Sorry if my thoughts are disorganized or hard to follow, I'm sorta really going through it right now. I'm fine, just... stressing myself out. Any tips you feel comfortable giving would be so, so appreciated. And thank you for taking the time to read this!

yes indeed, i am hashtag officially diagnosed with what i like to affectionately call my dumb bitch disease (not that anyone else is allowed to use that term for it.... well. maybe my very close friends. but yeah. gotta laugh at the awful things so you don't cry, right?)

so the thing with adhd (well. any kind of mental health issue) is that it's all a spectrum. every human person on this planet is somewhere on the euclidean axis of how many neurodivergencies they have. some people have no recognizable symptoms in any of the recognized areas we have. some people may have mild issues with things, and it's a bit fuzzy if they "have adhd or not." when you talk to a professional, there's a particular line of demarcation that happens when someone is looking to diagnose you with something.

do these symptoms interfere with your day to day life? are they severe enough to rise to the level of DISORDER?

it's completely possible for you to struggle with executive function and not have adhd. you may have something else, as executive function disorder is not exclusively in the domain of adhd, or it might just be that those particular neurons are cranky in your brain. what you're doing here—recognizing symptoms and looking for ways to address them—is really good, and basically what adhd therapy does, anyway.

all that being said, honk shoo honk shoo, let's get into a What The Fuck Are You Talking About for people who want more information on the subject, and some advice i have for you. i'll start generally, then talk a little bit about the writing thing specifically since it's a bit of a special beast for me.

what you are describing does indeed sound like issues with executive function to me.

first, for those new to the idea, executive function is the fancy term for the "executive" of your brain. the guy in a fancy suit who makes shit happen. when you walk by a dirty plate, you have the thought "oh i should put that in the dishwasher." executive function is the gap between the thought "oh i should x" and doing x.

a lot of the problems that neurodivergent people have, especially those with adhd, is that this function is impaired. some days, it's just fucking impossible to move that plate.

and it's not consistently, or predictably. some days, you will be perfectly able to do the thing. yesterday you put the plate in the dishwasher. today you put the plate in the dishwasher. tomorrow you will put the plate in the dishwasher. but tuesday comes, and you walk by the dirty plate, think "oh i should put that in the dishwasher," and then you stand there and stare at it without moving it. and you're like, c'mon. it's easy. you did it yesterday. all it takes is moving your hand. picking up the plate. walking into the kitchen. putting it inside the dishwasher. isn't that so easy? why can't you do it? why isn't your hand moving? are you lazy? are you stupid? this is infuriating! you literally just did this yesterday! you've done it a hundred times! what the fuck is wrong with you?! and then wednesday comes. now you have two dirty plates. now the task is twice as hard. maybe you can do it. maybe you can't. it's a harder task now. now you have three plates. now you're guilty because you have all these dirty plates, and it's a mountainous task now, and your roommate is giving you stink eyes for leaving dirty plates out, and you're a fucking adult who should be able to take care of some dirty plates, and you want to, you WANT to take care of the plates, but every time you THINK about them you flop into a cold sweat—

this is executive dysfunction. it's one of the more insidious side effects of adhd in my experience. that said, there are a lot of little tricks i've gotten from therapy specific to addressing this problem, so i'll give you a list here.

DO I HAVE TIME? this is best used for small, quick tasks like our plate example. you walk by the dirty plate and think "i should put this in the dishwasher." do you have time, right now, to do it? will it interfere with the thing you were doing? for example, if you're on the way out the door because your ride is honking, the answer is no. if you're on the way to get another glass of water while kicking back and watching some youtube, the answer is yes. if you have the time, do it now. now let's say you bring the plate into the kitchen and open the dishwasher. it's clean. you haven't emptied it yet. now the task has changed. but that's okay; do you have the time to empty the dishwasher right now? maybe you only get an hour a week to kick back and watch the youtube, and it's a special time that you need in order to recharge. the answer becomes no. well the plate is in the kitchen now instead of your room. victory.

COIN FLIP GAME. this one i actually got from the anti-planner by dani donovan, which i can Not recommend highly enough. there is a task you have to do, and you want to do it, but you're having a problem getting started. or maybe you have to do it but it feels icky, but you do really need to do it. the important thing for this trick is that it is not time sensitive; if you don't do it right now, it's okay. so you flip a coin. heads, you do it. tails, you get to wait until you have the thought that you need to do it again. if you get tails, then you are allowed, guilt-free, not to do the thing. if you get heads, sorry champ but you're doing the thing. gamifying it in this manner kind of... cheats your brain into approaching things differently, which can help you get around that brick wall.

TASK INITIATION. sometimes, it's not that the task itself is the problem; it's because you're having problem with what's called "task initiation." getting Started doing the thing is really fucking hard. if this is your issue, you can try and approach it a different way, usually by going "backwards" down the order of operations. so say for example, laundry. i have a lot of trouble with laundry. if i think to myself "i need to do my laundry," i have difficulty with the task initiation there. so what i do instead of "starting" at the shoving clothes into the washing machine part, i'll go into my room and make sure i've picked up all the dirty clothes and sorted them out. check my bathroom for towels and washcloths. sort them away. now i'm standing in front of my dirty laundry, and i'm "doing laundry," so it's easier to pick up one of the organizer bags and take it into the laundry room. i went backwards down the line and found a place in the task list where i could begin without the hassle, then i basically tricked myself into continuing past the point where i was having trouble.

BREAK UP THE TASK. this one is good if you feel like you're looking at a mountain and it's so overwhelming you just. don't do the thing. you'll hear it a lot: "just break it up into smaller tasks!" but. what the fuck does that actually mean? what does it look like? it's going to depend on You, but let's look at our plate example. so we just walked by the plate and we know we need to put it into the dishwasher. well. let me start by looking at the plate. can i do that? can i pick it up? let's say the answer is no. well, why? maybe i'm so stressed from work that this is just one too many things on my, haha, plate right now. okay. maybe don't worry about this right now, then. or maybe i'm having trouble because i know that the dishwasher is full of clean dishes, so it's not really as simple as "put the plate in the dishwasher." so, bring the plate into the kitchen. put it on the counter. maybe that's enough for now. or maybe i can open the dishwasher. look inside. it's full, and i don't really have the energy to unload it right now. ...or maybe i do, but i'm just looking at this huge thing that feels too big. maybe i can put away one plate. okay. that wasn't so bad. maybe i can put away all the plates. plates are easy. my trick is i take all the clean dishes OUT of the dishwasher and put them on my kitchen island without worrying about putting them away yet. then i load the dirty things into the dishwasher. well now i turn around and i have all the clean dishes pilled up nicely here. momentum really is everything. one task leads to two leads to five leads to done.

TASK BUNDLING. this is useful if you're trying to be more consistent about something and you already have something else you do consistently. for example, i have dogs. every night around six pm, i feed them supper. now, historically, i've had problems with remembering to eat/feeling like cooking when i wasn't hungry/being hungry but having trouble cooking. i don't need to tell you how unhealthy that is, hahaha. so what i did is i bundled my supper together with their supper. they will eat every night. they will Not forget to remind me that they want to eat. i make their supper every day. so i make their supper, feed it to them, and bam! i'm in the kitchen. preparing food already. so it's really easy for me to keep going and prepare My food. let's say you want to drink more water. every time you open tumblr, bundle together the task of checking to make sure you have a glass of water with you, and take a sip. let's say you want to take a vitamin. keep the bottle by your toothbrush. and get weird with it! don't let social norms hold you back. i have a toothbrush in my shower. i have medicine on the bookshelf next to where i play video games. these aren't the "usual" places for things, but they Work for ME. find the places that work for you, and bundle things together. you'll be a lot more likely to do them if they're tied to something else.

BODY DOUBLING. this one is HUGE. i've actually infected my neurotypical friends in discord with this one, it's so powerful, hehehe. basically, you externalize the executive function. there are a couple of ways to do this. if you want to do something, ask someone to be in the room with you. they don't have to be doing the same thing, or anything, really. but having another Person there (another BODY, if you will) will make it so you can do the thing. you can also do this over discord. for example, my friends and i will open up a voice chat, and we'll be doing things. i'll be writing, khaya will be drawing, yorsh will be writing or drawing, keisha will be writing or drawing... and because we're all there together, we're super productive! it smashes through that brick wall a bit. there is a whole genre of youtube videos i LOVE that target this thing. find "study with me" type videos where you have someone doing homework or something, maybe they have rain, or lofi music, or just the ambient noises of a coffee shop; whatever you find most helpful. i actually body double with a little fox timer i have on my desk. i turn him on for an hour, and since he's "working," it's really easy for me to be like "ok i gotta work too." silly? yes. does it work? yes!

BULLET JOURNAL/APPS. i don't mean the pinterest pretty things where you end up spending way too much time on making a pretty spread. i mean the actual basic bullet journal that the original creator developed because he has adhd and needed something to keep his shit straight. i did this for a while, and i found it somewhat useful? eventually i found more success with the app TickTick, which is so good for me keeping my tasks straight and accounted for, i pay for the premium bc fuck yeah. if you're the kind of person motivated by streaks (think, like, doing something because you don't want to break a streak. i am very much this person.) then i've gotten a lot of good mileage out of the Today app. i don't use it much anymore, but it's very good if that's a motivating thing for you.

WEAPONIZE ANNOYANCE. i do this one a lot. i have certain things that annoy me a lot. like, being wasteful with water really annoys me. so that means i don't like to wash laundry more than once. which means, if i put something in the washing machine, i WILL move it into the dryer. so if i can put my laundry into the washing machine and get it started, i have defeated the demon of moving it into the dryer by weaponizing my own irritation against myself. same thing with gritty bathroom floors. my cat's litterbox is in my bathroom. i Really hate stepping out of the shower and feeling litter under my feet. so i'm pretty meticulous about keeping the bathroom floor clean, even though sometimes i have a moment of executive dysfunction about vacuuming every day, because whenever i hit that brick wall i think. ok. well. we can look at this brick wall that's here. now think about the sensation of stepping out onto cat litter out of the shower. aofjalsfjadlskfjslakfjsalkfj. and that's enough for me to reach for the vacuum. so you can use your preferences against your weaknesses, especially if they're things that you're Very particular about.

RECONTEXTUALIZE. my therapist will sometimes stop me and say "you are should-ing all over yourself." and this is when i'm saying things like "i should x" or "i should y." i should be able to put away this plate in the dishwasher. i did it yesterday! i should be able to do it today! the moment you catch yourself thinking these things, stop. think about it differently. instead of "i should be able to put this plate away," think "i want to be able to put this plate away." now you can say. well. why do i want to put the plate away? because it's dirty, and dirty dishes will attract bugs. i don't want bugs. i want my room to be clean and smell nice. i want to enjoy being in here. now, instead of a chore that needs to be done, you can think about it as a positive thing you're doing. sometimes this is enough to get around that wall.

now. you've asked me about writing specifically, which is. kind of a special beast for me. you said it seems like i have a compulsion to do it—and it really does kind of feel that way. if i go too long without writing, i feel uncomfortable. antsy. like i'm not doing what i need to be doing in order to be Me. as such, it's usually not that difficult for me to convince myself to write. if i start seeing a brick wall about it, i can go "...but... think about the COOL SHIT that's about to happen in symphony!!" and i'll go "OH YEAH" and break right the fuck through that brick wall kool-aid style.

that said. i do experience executive dysfunction with my writing. there are days when i want to write, i have the scene in my head, i have the time, i'm in my special writing place, and i sit down and—and i can't do it. i can't write. i keep clicking into tumblr. i close tumblr on my computer then pick up my phone. i watch youtube videos. it's like no matter what i do, i can Not focus on writing. even though i am screaming and rattling at the cages because i want to!!! i want to write!!! i want to do nothing MORE than write!!!!

often, one of the tricks above will work for me since i've learned how to use them over the years, and i have practice tricking myself. i find particular success with the body doubling in particular for writing. but some days, it just. Doesn't Happen. and here is the ultimate truth that i will bestow upon you:

it's okay if you don't do the thing.

so you don't pick up that plate today, and tomorrow you have two. so you don't do your laundry, so you have to do it tomorrow. so you miss a meal. you go a day without writing. it's okay. as long as you're safe and healthy, it's okay. tomorrow is another day for you to try and do the thing.

stressing out about how much you want to do the thing is counterproductive. you're just going to make yourself ill doing that, and then you'll be less capable of doing things. just... chill. relax. breathe. do what you can. try the tips i gave, look for some more and see if those work, and if they don't... all right. it just isn't meant to happen today. no big deal. do something else today. maybe you don't pick up that plate... but you do fold that laundry that was giving you a brick wall a few days ago. maybe you don't write that fic today... but you do read that book you've been putting off, and now you have a new favorite author you want to pick apart and study. life is short, and precious. don't should on yourself.

#ask tag #adhd tag #holy FUCK this got long. but i hope it helps you a little c:

[raelle-writing]

The reality is that most kids would be either a Fluke or Jin. If nothing else it’s because they don’t also want to be bullied or ostracized by their friends. You can criticize the choices that Jin makes but realize that he is also a child that doesn’t yet have the maturity and wisdom of an adult. I see this group of teens and their treatment of Non as a cautionary tale. Obviously this is ultimately a horror/thriller so everything is heightened to the extreme. Therefore I don’t have an issue with the gore, mayhem and fantastical elements. But this type of bullying could and does happen in real life sometimes with devastating tragedies. So I do wish that people on social media were more careful of the terms they use and directly harassing your character is not a good look. Hurling insults behind a computer screen hurts just as much as doing it in person. (IMO) The fact that they are essentially bullying you is ironic considering what DFF is about.

There is a certain irony to watch the fandom turn into bullies in defense of the bullied character. I understand being defensive of the characters you like (I'm defensive of Jin in case you haven't noticed lol). But I understand why people don't like him. I've never justified all of his actions, but I do genuinely think people are too hard on him a lot of the time.

And I also wish all the Non defenders would have a bit of nuance about his character too because he's a victim, but that doesn't exempt him from hurting others. I'll never say he cheated because I beleive we shouldn't apply that word to a situation involving coercion and power imbalances. But Non does still get his friends arrested. And he does lie to and gaslight Phee. And those are okay things to acknowledge while still having sympathy for him as a character.

I agree with you. I think most people wouldn't even do as much as Jin tbh because while he doesn't do enough arguably, he does a lot as far as defending Non over and over and over (even up until after Non disappears he's still snapping at his friends to address Non by his name). And it's really hard to be that level of defiant to your peers constantly. It's waaaaaaay easier to be Fluke and look the other way and tell yourself that you're not involved then, even if you could stop it.

Everyone online seems to have a hero complex and think they'd do the Absolute Right Thing even when there's no clear right thing in certain situations, and then they demonize these teenagers for not doing those things. (I made a thread on Twitter talking about Jin lying to the police and police corruption in the DFF narrative and in Thailand in general, including linking to a bunch of Thai tweets that talk about that and I got people replying to me saying that they live in countries with police corruption but they still would've told the truth to the police even if they would've disappeared and I got a good laugh out of that. It's so easy to be the hero in your head in a hypothetical situation, but reality is a lot harder than that).

Yeah, I don't know why this particular fandom seems to be so caught up on "if you like a character that I view as morally bad then YOU are a bad person" especially considering the audience crossover to the KPTS fandom like. Were you mad at all of the mafia boys doing mafia things in KPTS becaussssssse that was worse than a lot of what's happening in DFF so far ahahahaha

Anyway, I'm not ever going to demand that everyone likes Jin. I don't particularly care of people like him or not as long as they're not coming after ME about it. I wish people were a little less... vitriolic about the mistakes of teenagers, though I understand why many people are so mad about it. I just can't get past the idea that these people were all kids when they made these mistakes, and it's hard to see even Por die because I have sympathy for them all. Did they fuck up? Duh. Do they deserve to die...? I have a hard time with that, but I'm trying to be mentally prepared ahahahaha

I also hope all the people out there who have decided Jin is the worst person ever and deserves to die are prepared for if that doesn't happen. Because there are a lot of threads in the narrative point pretty strongly to a future redemption for him IMO (tho of course they could go in another direction, anything is possible at this point). And I have a feeling that all those people who are calling me names on Twitter aren't going to handle it well if Jin get redeemed or like... lives in the end. I have a feeling they won't handle that well.

Anyway, thanks for the message 💕

#dead friend forever #dff the series #dff #pheejin #jin dff #phijin

[sitp-recs]

Love ur recs sm so I come here screaming crying begging for eight year/hogwarts era recs... binged the classics and craving more but I swear I've read all of them...please help lovely sitp 🙏🙏

Hello 🙌 I did a couple reclists for 8th year but here are some fics I don’t see recced often:

A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

Good Company by Greenflares (T, 8k)

With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

What Country, Friends, Is This? by khalulu (M, 8.4k)

When Harry and Draco are paired up for a nebulous “capstone project” in 8th year, Draco suggests they use it as an opportunity to take a free Grand Tour of Europe. Harry isn’t interested in being grand, and they soon veer off the beaten path. The journey to find what (and who) you really want can lead to unexpected places.

swallow your words by icarusinflight (E, 9k)

The truth is, not many things are known about the magic that is behind soulmarks. They'll turn up when they want and not before. The truth is, you don't get a choice in your soulmark. The truth is, not everyone is okay with that.

Marginal Notes by @blamebrampton (G, 9k)

When you’re 18, and nothing is as it was meant to be, sometimes it can be hard to let the right people know what you are thinking.

Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries (E, 9.7k)

A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation. In which Draco is lazy, Harry is sweaty, Hermione is drunk, and Ron turns red.

Slow Hands by eleventy7 (T, 10k)

Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.

warmest part of the winter by warmfoothills (T, 11k)

It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.

Find The Balance by lauren3210, Obliviate_Amores (M, 15k)

After Harry gives Draco his wand and goes back to using his own, they both start having trouble making them work. Finding out why is a lot simpler than fixing the problem.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster (M, 16k)

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

On Our Way by dynamic (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

Colloquy by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd (E, 30k)

Harry's not gay, Malfoy just smells good.

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (E, 33k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

Inside Your Mind by lazywonderlvnd (E, 35k)

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (M, 35k)

It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together.

The July Tree by oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

Seeker, Chaser, Keeper by VivacissimoVoce (M, 59k)

Rumor has it that a wealthy investor is starting up a brand new professional Quidditch team and he’s looking for players. Harry and Draco both want to make the team, but there can be only one Seeker. Will competing for the position bring them closer or drive them further apart?

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy.

Reparo by amalin (E, 85k)

Voldemort's final defeat does not mean Harry Potter's troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #8th year