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can you tell who is my fav? ( extra hard challenge )

starscream eyes headcanons

actually seen as the least visually shocking pair of optic rims but that makes him more able to stand out among the trine , tiny details matter to him more then just a bold look

Optics are in fact just mods , they see just fine with the plane red that fills out the rims . The target icon in his left is meant to lock onto autoboots better and aim precisely with missiles or whatever weapons he has on him , the star in his right is act like slits in normal eyes for light and extra detection but the ridges on his eye frame are coloured as a vos tradition to match trine mates and palette

Tiny stars are a simple add on , personal subtle flare.

The blue shade in his eye that clashes with his plain red is just what i put there to show how his usual plans often opposes Megs ( the red) and how Starscream's coming defect to the autobots was always inevitable from the start..

Skywarp eye headcanons

Wants to actually be the most flashy among his trine mates but is second to being the most visually shocking of the three , so he had put alot of time into choosing his optic rims and customizing it .

Optics are in fact warped or glitchy in right due to haphazard use of his ability leaving a triple center of vision and he refuses to get it changed because it 'looks cool' and mostly because resources are limited and the last thing anyone wants is to lose another flyer while out shopping. Left optic is fine but the swirl acts as a pupil to take in more light in as well as project where he is going to teleport to.

Coloured ridges for traditions and stars for himself ( likes to copy star alot)

Puts on a sort of Cybertroian makeup to make his ridges darker and sharper , he has a shade of purple and hot red to represent his cunning , silly personality and loyalty to the cause and Megatron no matter how rambunctious he acts.

Thundercracker eye headcanons

thinks he is the least visually shocking compared to skywarp's try hardness when he IS actually the most stunning one , chose his optic rims to match his designation sometimes thinks he may have gotten too bold in his youth when he did..

Optic on his left was shot during his first air raid for the decepticons , said he was going to get it replaced but never worked around to it so he wears his visor to correct his vision and partially modded his right optic to more enhance his accuracy like skywarp but more purposely .

Again , Coloured ridges are tradition but got roped into the tiny stars by Warp.. now everyone thinks that's tradition too..

Has a red/orange sort of scheme to his planes to represent his often questioning part of the cause , like he wants to do this but doesn't want everyone to get so brutally scarred as he did but keeps fighting anyway because his trine is here too..

EXtra: sometimes the optics can get damaged and even though they are meant to enhance their vision on planes they sometimes can harm it too , plain mods have very little chance of damaging the planes like the correct prescription of glasses but upgraded ones can better or worsen it depending who adds them on to the mech but it typically it is recommended for bots who work mines , air or in this case war..

So thundercracker optics basically shattering in his planes did infact make him a little blind in that eye , skywarp is lucky that he got a free upgrade with the only consequences being helmaches or opticstrain , star's only consequence for his mods are the fact his target eyes drift awkwardly sometimes like a subtle version of lazy eye only it may cost a mech it's life..

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It is 2025, we can admit that Billy Hargrove was a racist piece of shit who tried to kill Lucas.

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During the holocaust some estimates say that over 50% of the entire European population of Roma people were murdered.

They were also forced to be identified in camps with the brown upside down triangle

They were considered racially impure, much like the Jews. In many nations they were hunted by their fellow countrymen, who had an existing bias against them that was fuelled by war propaganda. The Einsatzgruppen (basically a moving, mobile killing squad) had Roma as a target. And, yes, there was a "Gypsy Question".

Their population was absolutely decimated. But worse.

August 2 is a date that some acknowledge this genocide. Some other dates....some not any dates at all. This date was chosen because of the huge killings on that night of those in the Zigeunerfamilienlager. Roma families were kept together in a camp in Auschwitz.

The Nazis decided to "clear" most of the camp that night, killing many children and elderly on purpose. There was a lot of fighting, they fought back with improvised weapons. Let no one ever say that they walked wearily to their deaths. They fought for themselves and their families with every ounce of strength they had.

Thousands were killed in gas chambers that night, the women, children, elderly and infirm. The rest were sent to work camps.

Germany only officially acknowledged this aspect of the holocaust in the early 80s. In the Former Czechoslovakia and Czech Republic Roma women were forced into sterilisation through a number of means, in the 70s, the 90s and into the 00's, with some reports that this is still ongoing.

The Roma are not a footnote in history. Their suffering was immeasurable, like so many others. In ways that some places will still not acknowledge or account for.

May the memories of those gone be a blessing, and the future of those that remain be a brighter and more hopeful one.

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thinking about a steddie au fic where eddie munson is a big-time actor, the talented, temperamental kind with a reputation for being hard to work with. he’s intense, he’s serious about his craft and he’s spent years clawing his way up from nothing. now he’s starring in a huge movie, but the studio doesn’t think his name alone will sell it so they bring in steve harrington, golden boy of the music scene, nepo baby with the headlines, the perfect hair and now he’s crossing into acting. he’s charming, absurdly handsome, the media loves him and it drives eddie INSANE.

from the second they meet, they hate each other. eddie thinks he’s a walking billboard, a studio cash-grab, someone who hasn’t had to bleed for the career eddie’s spent years building from scratch, he’s all teeth and interviews and flashing lights and absolutely no work ethic. and worse, the second they meet, he’s nice. too nice. steve thinks eddie’s a pretentious jerk who’s too busy brooding to even be likable. their bickering on set is driving the entire crew insane, so the director does the unthinkable; he forces them to live together for the duration of the shoot. it’s meant to help them bond, but obviously, it backfires……at first. eventually something shifts, they start talking, about their lives, their childhoods, what it’s like to be wanted for the wrong reasons, about fame, fears, feeling like they’re performing even when the cameras aren’t rolling.

eddie starts noticing how hard steve is trying, how scared he looks when he thinks no one’s watching. steve starts seeing past the bravado, the way eddie talks with his hands when he’s passionate, the way he disappears into a role like it’s the only place he feels safe & they become each other’s kinda soft place to land. and obviously when things start to get good & the sexual tension starts being too much to handle, the movie wraps. they both go their separate ways, steve starts prepping for a tour, eddie takes another role overseas. they don’t talk much or at all, they’re both busy pretending none of it meant anything, not to mention steve starts dating someone. eddie keeps up the same front he always has, but it doesn’t go away, that feeling.

months pass and then one night, eddie shows up to steve’s concert, backstage pass in hand, steve sees him after his show and he doesn’t even think twice before he crosses the room to kiss him on sight. kinda enemies to friends to lovers, slowburn au that i cannot stop thinking about. SOMEONE WRITE IT PLEASE.

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star wars fans really just make anything up

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if you’re a white creator and your brown/black characters are always sassy, reckless, aggressive or cold and your white characters are always soft, demure, shy and introverted you should think about maybe why you did that

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The Crash-Bang Incident - Part One

Or: on the way to the tunnels with a concussed Steve Harrington passed out in the back seat, Max crashes into Eddie's van.

Let the record show that Max Mayfield never claimed she was a good driver. She said she could drive. Those are two separate things. Besides, the only seemingly competent adults in this shithole of a town had fucked off to some secret lab, and the next closest thing they had to a competent adult is passed out in the back seat of Billy’s car.

She can still hear the shattering of the plate against Steve’s head, see the way he’d crumpled like one of the ragdolls her Mom had finally given up on getting her to like. Max glances into the rearview mirror, eyes seeking out Steve’s face. She just needs to make sure he’s still breathing. Make sure Billy didn’t do something she’ll have to live with.

She doesn’t hear Lucas’s scream quick enough. There’s just the sound of metal on metal, the car twisting and lurching, steering wheel bucking beneath her fingers like a horse still untamed, and her neck twists sideways. Whiplash. Pain.

She opens her eyes to a car full of boys screaming and a looming black figure pounding its fist against the glass of her window. She shrieks, vaulting backward into Lucas’s spot, bumping her hip painfully into the stick shift,  seatbelt stretched to its limit.

“Are you okay? Fuck!” The figure shouts, wrenching the door open. He shoves his head into the car and looks over at her, eyes wide in his manic face. His hair’s wrecked – it’s a wild curly curtain clouding his face. “Shit, you’re a fucking toddler!”

Max, having finally decided that this weirdo is not at all a threat, lurches forward, slams her hands against his chest, and shoves the man out of the open car door. “I’m thirteen!” she replies, sneering. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, we’re kind of in a hurry!”

She pointedly doesn’t look at Steve still crumpled in the back seat, but it doesn’t seem to matter; the man turns his head, pupils turning into pinpricks as he takes in the limp form sprawled across Mike and Dustin’s laps. 

“Is that Steve fucking Harrington?”

“What’s it to you?” Mike asks snottily. Max turns toward him, already snarling in protection, but Wheeler’s got Steve’s head cradled in his lap, and he’s got his arms raised like he can shield him from this nameless threat.

“What’d you do to his face?” Eddie demands, almost whining, like Steve Harrington having his face bashed in is an affront to him personally. 

Max lunges through the still-open window in an attempt to stop him, but it’s too late. The weird guy’s already opened the back door and has pushed his way in past Dustin to peer down into Steve’s face.

“Don’t touch him,” Max hisses just as the guy reaches out to press his fingertips gently against Steve’s cheek.  

Steve hadn’t woken up as they’d dragged him to the car. It’d taken all four of them pulling his limbs into strange shapes and probably giving him a wicked roadburn. He hadn’t woken up as all three of the idiots around her had screamed unhelpful directions in her ear on the assumption that being louder would make them more intelligible. He hadn’t even woken up when Mike and Dustin started clutching at him as the stranger climbed inside. 

But one touch of this guy’s trembling fingers against his cheek, and Steve’s eyes slit open. 

“Nancy?” he asks, voice slurring around the name.

The guy laughs, all shaky past whatever bravado he’s lightly veneered on. “Guess again, big guy.”

Steve squints, making his barely-open eyes even smaller. She’s not sure how he can see anything at all, but he says, “Munson?” all soft and confused as he looks up at the other guy. “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” he asks, voice slurring alarmingly. 

The guy, Munson, laughs again, and uses his free hand to tuck his wild hair behind his ears. Max can see his face now, and he might’ve just been laughing, but he’s not smiling as he asks, “I could ask you the same thing,” in a tone of voice that doesn’t hide the worry behind all that forced nonchalance. 

She can feel their window of opportunity closing. This guy’s going to commandeer the car, whisk Steve to a hospital, and that’ll be the end of her night. No more quests. No more delay of the inevitable. 

 Her palms are sweaty, and her windpipes shrinking in on itself like it’s one of those milkshake straws that gets stuck together if the shake’s too thick. 

Billy’s going to kill her when he sees her again. There will be no Steve Harrington and no inexplicable bat full of nails between them. He’s going to kill her, and that’s not something she can fight. 

But this? This is a plan with steps they can take to make sure everyone comes out alive. She’s a dead man walking, but Will doesn’t have to be. 

And that girl with superpowers could probably use all the help she can get, no matter how cool she is. 

She steps on the gas pedal, careening past the guy’s van where it’s still blocking the road, and continues on her chosen path even as the backdoor shudders with each turn of the wheel, trying to shut on mystery guy’s legs. 

Everyone’s screaming, and she has no idea where she’s going, so she utilizes the lessons her family’s taught her on being heard and screams, “shut up!” at the top of her lungs until the car’s catching crickets in its silence. 

“Lucas?” she asks, something churning in her stomach as he squeaks with what sounds suspiciously like fear. “Where next?”

Still, he reaches out and puts his hand on her knee, squeezing comfortingly as he says, “turn right here.”

Max turns. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” the guy, Munson, hisses. “The hospital’s back there!”

And the guy must’ve made some sort of gesture that jostled Steve because he makes a small, wounded sound deep in his throat. Max adjusts the rearview mirror just so she can glare at Munson threateningly, barely avoiding careening into a mailbox. 

Munson’s looking down at Steve with sad, worried eyes from where he’s crouched half overtop him, using the hand not holding up his weight to pet Steve’s bloody hair back from his head. “Sorry, Stevie.”

“‘m fine,” Steve slurs out. 

Max rolls her eyes and focuses back on the road, ignoring whatever spectacle’s going on in the back seat. She’s got hours to live, and she’s going to make them count. 

It’s a few short turns, following Lucas’s instructions until she’s careening off the road and bouncing to a stop on a grassy knoll, the boys in the back screaming as she slams on the brakes. 

When she twists the keys and pulls them free, the headlights click off, bathing the clearing in darkness. 

Max is the first one out of the car. The back door’s still open, Munson’s feet sticking out until he slides out, tumbling into an ungainly heap in the grass. He groans, flopping around until he’s on his back, messy curls covering his eyes. 

Dustin’s out of the car next, stepping over Munson like he’s a log in his path, not even glancing down at him as he orders everyone around. “We have to hurry,” he says, squinting down at his watch. He turns back to the car, yelling out “Steve!” in a demanding tone, as if he hadn’t just been cradling Steve’s shoes to his chest like he was a dying baby bird. 

 Steve shuffles out at the sound of his name, much more graceful despite what she expects must be a wicked concussion. There’s a trail of blood starting at his hairline and trailing down his temple. “C’mon, Munson,” he says, holding out his hand to help the other boy up. 

Munson peeks through his fingers up at Steve before flinging himself up on his own steam, eyes wide as he looks around the clearing like he’s never seen one before. “Oh, is this what hospitals look like now?” he asks, feigning shock. “Where’s the doctor?”

“What the hell are you talking about, dude?” Steve sighs, hands on his hips as he glares at Munson. 

Munson screeches deep in his throat, loud enough that the rest of them wince. He gestures at all of Steve’s body which, yeah fair. “You’re fucked, dude!” he yells. “Your brain’s probably bleeding out your ears!”

Steve says, “no hospitals,” just as Dustin replies, “we can check his brain after,” and strides farther into the clearing without a backwards glance, like he expects everyone else to follow him without question. Max resists the urge to get back in the car and leave all these idiots to die. 

After all, Steve and Lucas are still here. The rest of them can burn, for all she cares. 

“I thought I made myself clear,” Steve says, hands on his hips like he’s someone’s beleaguered mother, even though he’s slurring, and Munson’s right: his brain’s probably leaking out his ears. “We’re on the bench!”

Dustin stomps back with a huff, clearly fed up with the delay. “Steve, you’re upset, I get it,” he starts. His flashlight’s on and blinding Steve as it’s shined directly into his eyes. “But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.”

Munson laughs, halfway to hysterical as he pulls a hunk of unruly hair taught in front of his own face and bites it like a dog. Max wrinkles her nose, disgusted, but then the guy says, “what is this a live-action D&D game? And I thought I was a nerd,” and she sort of starts to like him. 

“Henderson,” Steve sighs, rolling his eyes when he’s immediately verbally bowled over.

“I know you promised Nancy you’d keep us safe,” Dustin says, finally pointing the flashlight away from Steve’s eyes, illuminating the ground between them. “So, keep us safe.”

Munson twitches beside Steve, inching closer to him as the silence lingers, showing exactly where his loyalties lie. But in the end, Steve sighs, shoulders slumping, and Max knows the plan’s back on. 

“If we’re doing this, we’re going to do it right,” Steve says, turning back to dig through the contents of Billy’s trunk as if it was his own. 

“Do what?” Munson cried, reaching up to pull his own hair by the root as he stomped his foot like a beleaguered father. 

When Steve turns back, he tosses a bandana at Munson’s chest. He scrambles to grab it, but it falls into the grass, and by the time he stands back up, Steve’s got a red bandana of his own tied around the bottom half of his face, and what looks like a pair of Billy’s old swimming goggles strapped across his eyes. The pressure’s got to be killer on his concussion, but Steve doesn’t complain.

He never seems to when it’s his own well being in question. Max kind of wants to stuff him back in the car and haul ass to the hospital, or better yet, out of this spooky fucking town entirely.

Munson’s just standing there, bandana clutched in his hand as he squints at Steve like he’s an alien. With the goggles making him so bug-eyed, she can’t really blame him.

“Put that on,” Steve says, pointing down at the bandana. “The air in the Upside-Down is like, toxic or something. Hop had to be on some sort of breathing machine.

Munson takes two steps forward and waves his hand in front of Steve’s face rapidly. “Hello? Anyone fucking in there?” When Steve smacks his hand down, Munson takes a quick hop back and throws his hands in the air, letting the bandana flutter back to the grass. “What the fuck is an Upside-Down? Have you cracked?”

“Eddie,” Steve sighs. He sounds tired down to his bones. Probably happens to anyone who has to deal with Dustin for more than twenty minutes at a time, never mind this new guy and whatever his damage is. 

He bends down to retrieve the bandana himself and steps forward. Munson – Eddie – takes a quick step back, eyes wide like he’s afraid he’s going to get his ass kicked. But all Steve does is brush Eddie’s messy curls off his shoulder and out of the way so he can tie the bandana around his face himself.

“Just trust me, okay?” 

Max turns away, feeling suddenly like she’s seeing something she shouldn’t as Eddie shivers and shakes beneath Steve’s gentle hands.

Welcome to the fic that I started writing in (checks notes), 2023???? I had a blast writing from Max's POV, and the rest of the kids are coming! As always, a thank you for @queenie-ofthe-void for the beta editing AND the full-on writing of some parts of this fic, coming soon! I will post the credit when we get to that <3<3<3 But honestly, the fact that I have written absolutely anything at any given time as a MINIMUM of 40% due to you so <3<3<3

Part Two

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i genuinely don't think i'll ever be over robin's coming out scene in stranger things, specifically the way robin says "steve..." and the way steve just goes "oh."

robin saying steve's name sort of fond, sort of exasperated, sort of knowing, and steve saying "oh" in the softest, kindest voice. robin almost holding her breath as she waits for steve's reaction, because as much as she's teased and made fun of him, it is so obvious how much the two of them care about each other.

and you can literally see the gears in steve's head turning as his feelings towards robin change from romantic to Platonic with a Capital P Soulmate, there is not even a question in steve's heart that robin is anything other than his best friend and someone he wants to have in his life forever, it's just that the feelings have shifted.

i just love stobin so insanely much, they are the Platonic soulmates ever, and if either of them dies in the finale i willa ctually never recover.

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i can’t do this anymore

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THIS DIVAAAAAAAAAA

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vintage magazines 🔥

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DJO Lollapalooza — August 1, 2025

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THE MAN OF THE HOUR

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he’s so endearing to me