#Am I kicked out of the fandom?

[giselles-dumping-hat]

Doodle of the little guy ever as this game takes over my waking thought

[narwhalcasserole]

This is late but I got hit by the plague during the holidays, so anyways future Leo says Merry Christmas

[aroaceleovaldez]

i think the thing i'm most disappointed about with riordanverse fandom now versus like 2014 is not only has the fandom not gotten any less racist or queerphobic or ableist (in fact in some regards its gotten worse!) but now it's just boring too. like there's no fandom infrastructure anymore - the community these days is almost entirely source material-driven - and you deviate from canon even slightly people get weird about it. whatever happened to the post-HoO fanon boom. the fandom needs to get weirder again. and self-sufficient. and less offensive.

[penumbra-mayhem]

Do You Want to Leave? - Darlin’/Sam fic

“If there was any color left in Darlin’s face, it dissipated at the soft question. They’d fucked up. This was it. Time to go. Grab the bag and run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Ru—”

(I hc that Tank has a stutter; there's more on that here if you'd like. This takes place a couple months after Darlin’ moves into Sam’s place.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam hadn’t meant to find it. He wasn’t snooping, he’d just been cleaning. Between him and Darlin’, they didn’t own that much stuff, so stumbling across a black backpack shoved to the back of their closet peaked his curiosity.

He pulled it out, scanning over its nondescript exterior before unzipping the largest pocket. His brow furrowed. Clothes. Money. A knife.

A quiet, sharp inhale—Sam’s head shot up at the noise. Darlin’ stood frozen in the doorway, eyes fixed on the open bag in Sam’s hands.

“Darlin’,” Sam spoke, his voice low and laced with hesitation, “What’s this?”

They didn’t say anything. They couldn’t. Sam waited for a reply. When it appeared he wasn’t going to get one, he asked again,

“What is this?”

Darlin’s hands began to tingle. The doorway began to shrink around them. What could they say, besides the truth? Anything but the truth.

Sam looked back down at the bag. Clothes. Money. A knife. He didn’t want to ask. He already knew the answer.

“Is this a go-bag?”

If there was any color left in Darlin’s face, it dissipated at the soft question. They’d fucked up. This was it. Time to go. Grab the bag and run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Ru—

“—are you leavin’ me?”

Darlin’ finally resurfaced from the whirlpool of their thoughts. Sam’s countenance toed the line between despair and disbelief. He began to tremble. The distance between them was unfathomable, the bedroom stretching before their eyes.

“N-n-no,” Darlin’ replied, before weakly adding, “n-n-n-not unless y-y-y-you w-w-want me t-to.”

Sam shook his head, “What do you mean? Why would you think I’d want you to leave?”

Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. R—

“—baby,” Sam pleaded, trying to pull Darlin’ out of the spiral he could see them sinking into, “talk to me…please.”

Darlin’ knew they couldn’t avoid this. Couldn’t avoid him, with his damned loving gaze and soft downturned lips. Yet they tried all the same, shaking their head and biting the inside of their cheek to keep from talking.

Sam set the bag down on their bed and slowly moved towards Darlin’. They resisted the instinct to flinch as he raised his hand towards their face. He wasn’t Quinn. He wouldn’t hurt them. Right? Run. Run. Run. Run.

His fingers brushed softly against their cheek—a motion like he was brushing away a tear. Were they crying? They were, fuck. They felt his other hand grasp one of theirs as he spoke again, “Darlin’, please. What’s goin’ on?”

They stared at his chest, unable to meet his gaze as they finally whispered, “It’s j-j-just in c-c-case.”

“In case what, love? In case…in case I hurt you?”

Darlin’ felt sick at the question. They gripped Sam’s hand tighter as they met his teary gaze and tried to quell his fear, “N-no! N-n-no, I kn-kn-know you’d n-n-never….you’re n-n-not….”

Not Quinn.

“It’s j-j-just….in case y-you w-w-w-want me t-t-to leave. In c-c-c-case I-I f-f-fuck this up.”

Sam’s jaw set. Something flashed in his eyes before he let go of Darlin’s hand and turned around, heading towards their bed. Darlin’ watched as he grabbed something from the bag. Clothes.

“W-w-what’re y-you d-d-doing?”

Sam didn’t reply as he opened their shared dresser, placing each article of clothing inside. He walked back to the bag. Money.

He grabbed Darlin’s wallet on their bedside table, stuffing the money inside before returning to the bag.

“Sam!” Darlin’ exclaimed, taking a step into their bedroom, “Wh-what are y-you d-doing?”

Sam turned to face them, his gaze firm, his voice resolute.

“This is your house. Your home. You’re not leavin' unless you want to leave. Do you want to leave?”

Stunned by the blunt question, Darlin’ didn’t respond. The silence carved anguish into Sam’s face, causing panic to rise again within Darlin’. Run. Run. Run.

After a moment, they whispered, “N-n-no.”

The answer covered the floor between them like a varnish and slowly dried as they stared at each other. Sam reached back into the bag, murmuring, “C’mere.”

Darlin’ hesitated, then closed the distance. Sam held out his hand. The knife.

“Go on,” he urged quietly.

Darlin’ took the knife from Sam’s shaking hand. They placed it in the drawer of their bedside table before glancing at him and whispering, “I’m s-sorry.”

Sam shook his head slightly. His fingers trailed up Darlin’s arms and caressed their cheeks.

“Oh sweet thing…” He placed a gentle kiss on their forehead. “It’s ok…” A kiss on their nose. “I understand….” A kiss on their lips.

“You want to leave?”

“N-no. N-n-never.”

[tashatoons]

Part 2: Hisoka meets Halford.

[acowardinmordor]

Wayne Munson never graduated high school. Neither did his piece of shit brother, but unlike Al, Wayne had the good sense to keep his nose out of trouble. That wasn’t to say he’d let something bad happen in front of him, but he didn’t grab a flashlight and go looking if he heard something strange in the trees.

He tried to teach Eddie any of that common sense, but his kid loved the idea of adventure too much for it to stick. Since there wasn’t any stopping the kid going looking, best Wayne could do was teach him how to handle himself.

Simple stuff like rewiring a lamp and how to patch and sew. More complex stuff like repairing his van and how to play the guitar. And since the kid always wanted fodder for those games he played, Wayne taught him bits and pieces that he learned in the war. Some first aid, basics of camping and getting yourself un-lost. Taught him the start of morse code, but the kid liked learning that elf language more.

Wayne knew there was something strange about Hawkins, and would have worried about Eddie snooping around it, but his eyes were on the highway, ready to get gone. Soon as the kid got his diploma, Wayne would hand him the money he’d been saving all these years, and he could stop worrying about Ed’s being too damn curious.

There was never a second where Wayne thought his nephew hurt that girl. Even if it had looked like something a human being could do, Eddie never would. And it certainly didn’t look like anything human. Wayne wasn’t one to go looking in the woods when he heard something. He spent his days trying to find his kid, and hoping that some grain of good sense had stuck, and Eddie wasn’t getting involved in it.

By the time that Henderson kid talked to him, Wayne had already thought it. Didn’t like it. Didn’t acknowledge it. But Wayne had had the thought. The earthquake wasn’t too bad, some feds had announced a copy cat killer and the not as dead as they thought chief of police cleared Eddie’s name.

Eddie would have shown back up by now.

So the kid handed over that guitar pick and told him a story, and Wayne couldn’t say it was a shock. Hearing that his boy was a hero wasn’t a shock either. Eddie always wanted to be the kind of person that protected others.

The feds brought Wayne some paperwork and an offer of compensation. They wanted the trailer, the whole damn thing. Wayne politely told them they could have it when he had the cash in hand. Compensation and restitution. He’d been lied to by the United States government before, and he wouldn’t trust them again.

They said it would take a few days. Wayne didn’t budge.

Now, Wayne knew what a broken heart could do. He knew that it wasn’t just romance and sweethearts that could break a man’s heart. He’d seen his buddies come back haunted, hearing whispers no one else could, jumping at shadows.

The first time the phone rang, Wayne reminded himself of those buddies, and that he was imagining what he wanted to hear.

The second time. Well.

Wayne knew that the Henderson kid was telling what he thought was truth, so he wasn’t going to go yell at him about it. He wasn’t going to go to the damn feds since they would hide his body before they gave him an answer. Henderson wasn’t the only name he heard on the phone though, and Wayne had not a single damn problem yelling at Richard Harrington’s kid. Eddie’s told some gossip the last few years, so maybe Steve wasn’t as much an asshole as his daddy, but that wasn’t going to matter.

Wayne wanted answers.

He didn’t expect the Harrington kid to listen, definitely didn’t expect him to grab a walkie talkie and a go-bag and a weapon as soon as Wayne finished speaking.

Wayne didn’t chase after the weird noises he heard coming from between the trees. Too much sense for that. He wasn’t the curious sort, needing an explanation for everything. Heartbreak did odd things to a man. He knew that lots of folk imagined a bit of hope when they were desperate. Wayne wasn’t one of those.

He was a simple, sensible man, kept his head down and lived his life. He didn’t go chasing adventures and mysteries. He wasn’t like his nephew in almost any measure or mark.

But for Eddie, he would do much stupider things than put aside his common sense.

[marshmallowwitharubberband]

I'm in the middle of watching the new season of Daddy Issues: The Mystery of Zaddy (a.k.a. Aaravos) and I've got an opinion that will get me kicked out of the fandom, but it's kinda spoilery, so it'll be under the cut.

While I'm loving the new season (at least the few chapters I've seen) it seems very hypocritical of the show —from my humble meta POV— to have Rayla doing a whole moralist speech to that moon elf about how continuing the cycle of violence and pain will not bring your dead loved ones back (kinda like Callum tried to do with Ezran) and how he should just let it go, while SHE *JUST* BROUGHT HER LOVED ONE BACK FROM THE DEAD. It's the entire reason she can even face that trial in the first place!! She is lecturing people for being bitter about something SHE got the privilege to revert and they didn't! And the narrative rewarded her for it?!

It honestly feels like an upper-class guy lecturing a waiter on how "if you are so fixated on earning more money all the time, you'll never get to enjoy the simple pleasures of life! The best moments are free!" or a neurotypical person telling their neurospicy friend that "it's all in your head! you just need to buckle up and learn discipline!"

And I feel like the show is treating it like she is right and it honestly feels too close to Miraculous' levels of hypocritical MarySue-ing. Which is odd, since so far the show has been great about presenting morally complicated stances and situations in a very tactful way, for the most part, so this felt extra jarring.

And let's not even get started on how some characters are talking about the importance of family bonds while literally minutes earlier Callum just left behind his own brother, a child, to deal with the rebuilding of an entire kingdom and reliving the grief of the death of their father. All to chase tail, basically.

It may have been morally correct to avoid Runan's incarceration and help him go back home, yes, but, again from a meta point of view, praising certain values in the dialogue then having the main characters go against said values and frame it as a good thing is...confusing.

Idk. It all left a bitter taste in my mouth that didn't let me enjoy the rest of the episode.

I'll continue the series tomorrow and hopefully future chapters will shed some light on those bizarre writing decisions. Please don't spoil anything.

[pondhue]

i love reading people's replies and tags and comments but not in a "obsessed with numbers/placing my value on interactions" way. i mean it in a, "wow. i love this thing so much. and people also love this thing. and they love the thing i made out of love and appreciation i have for said thing and we can love and appreciate it together" way.

[atlantis-just-drowned]

I just finished chapter 15 of 'Love, Death and Rollerskates' and Oh Damn

This post will contain slight spoilers so beware

Guys we already know that Sun also has his memories wiped by Afton but has anyone picked up on the fact that Afton also manipulates both Sun and Moon to hate each other?

I mean listen.

They are both so deeply convinced that the other is a monster. It's not just some manipulative tactic to keep the reader for themselves (as I thought for Sun in the beginning tbh). They really do think it's the truth. But how did they end up thinking this way, and why?

Welp those are very interesting questions but they're not exactly the right ones. What we have to ask here is who does this hatred profit to?

And here we have an answer, and this answer is William Afton.

Why? Because as long as they hate each other, they 1) forget that he's the one controlling them because they both have a scapegoat to blame for their situation and 2) can't team up to beat him, leaving them isolated and powerless.

Which is so damn clever to be honest.

So yes Afton erases their memories, but I also believe he takes this opportunity to fill in the blanks with some made up stories and/or manipulate the truth to nourish their hatred.

The worst part is the fact that he doesn't have to participate that much in it: all he has to do is twist the facts just enough for them to drift apart and stop communicating, and the rest is only a vicious circle of misunderstandings, negative emotions and lack of communication, that will never stop unless they actively seek to break that pattern and communicate.

For now I think Moon is the one who would recognise this pattern the most easily, because he's the most logical one of the two, and he already knows that Sun is being manipulated as well and experiences memory losses, he just doesn't know to what extent this affects his counterpart. Whereas Sun is in complete denial of it all, covering it with some sort of toxic positivity, and the narrative he gives is incredibly self-centred and based on his feelings rather than the facts, making it impossible for him to see the whole picture.

Reader have a crucial role in this dynamic, because both Sun and Moon care about them deeply, making them more keen on listening to y/n and taking their words into account. This is both a disadvantage and a good news: reader can aggravate this circle if they start picking sides and talking negatively about one of them to the other, but on the other hand, they could be able to push through the mutual hatred and get them to talk together again, with a common goal for the two of them: keeping y/n safe, and maybe, break free from Afton's emprise.

Anyway thank you for listening to my rants, I had to type this WHOLE SHIT twice because Tumblr didn't save my first draft lmao

[lustrecannon]

hella/adaire/adelaide retail workers au. they're all employed at a fancy department store and adaire keeps the receipts from really weird purchases so she can smack-talk them later with her girlfriends

secret samol piece for @theunacceptablepylades !!!!! this was so much fun - it's the first secret samol i've ever been in, and drawing these three was a delight :]

[yourlowkeyidiot3]

Why are people blaming the fact that Stan got kicked out on Ford and not on Filbrick

[chryseiswriting-blog]

“The Ravens are dropping like flies!”

Neil ‘oops, I killed that one’ Josten: “oh noo” ☹️

[narwhalcasserole]

Hi Happy Holidays almost a month late. :)

[dcbutinamrev]

Does anyone in the Outsiders fandom 18+ want to rp with me on discord? If so, please feel free to dm me or ask me. I’m always down to rp with someone in this fandom. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

[paradisepoisoned]

I also drew Near and Mello’s grandmothers for no reason other than I am seriously ill.

Cookie to whoever can guess which country Near’s grandma is from

[babyboywilson]

happiness is having someone comment that your writing is beautiful when you’ve been insecure to get back to writing again