#Content Warning Abuse

[originalleftist]

Yeah.

Women cutting ties with these men isn't just (justified) anger, it's self-preservation.

A nation-wide abortion ban is coming.

The end of no-fault divorce might not be too far off.

They're preserving their liberty and safety while they can.

I just hope if you're leaving a MAGA man you exercise caution. Abusers may get most violent and dangerous when their prey tries to leave. A LOT of women have been murdered by exes.

Women are getting rid of their Trump supporting partners while they still legally can since they clearly don't give a shit about them or any other woman.

If you're thinking about getting a divorce, you should do it while you still can.

[originalleftist]

Just a reminder any time a celebrity or creator you like turns out to be a vile bigot and/or criminal, and you're tempted to say that that could not possibly be true of them.

Anyone who is a successful writer or actor or celebrity is, pretty much by definition, professionally skilled at crafting illusions.

That doesn't mean that they are always lying or a bad person, but it means that they know how to influence peoples' perceptions, and do it well.

And the more successful they are, the more you admire their work, the better they are at it.

[go-fornicate-yourself]

Every day I am in the trenches fighting for my life defending this poor man. He was going through so much and people online demonize him and say he's as bad as his abuser

(I've got a lot of thoughts about this so I'll make sure to separate things to make it easier to look at lol)

Curly is a victim of abuse. Jimmy is his abuser. This is something that I feel a lot of people tend to brush over or don't acknowledge it often.

And I'm not just talking about post-crash. Jimmy's abuse of Curly is there pre-crash too. The party scene where the crew learns about the company going under is a huge example of this. Jimmy verbally abuses him, he gaslights him, he blames him for their (his) misfortune. Jimmy accuses Curly of thinking he's better than everyone (better than him), that he doesn't care about them (about him). That he's going leave them (leave him). Which is not true. Curly tries to explain himself but Jimmy shuts him down and he just takes it.

The fact that he just allows this to happen makes it seem like he's used to this... That this kind of behavior is a recurring thing with Jimmy. And the fact that nobody else tries to defend him or stands up to Jimmy just normalizes it for him. When Anya tells Curly what Jimmy did it catches him off guard. Bc he genuinely didn't think that his friend was capable of that. It wasn't something that was obvious to him. There were absolutely many red flags in the past but they were subtle enough for him to not see them bc he cares for Jimmy, he trusts him. Jimmy's the only one he feels he can open up to, who he can let his guard down with. Jimmy's his home. That's how close they are.

Because of this deep love for his friend and the subtlety of Jimmy's cruelty, he doesn't see the constant verbal and emotional abuse as what it is: abuse. Which is why he finds Jimmy's abuse towards Anya so shocking and jarring.

He isn't a man covering for his rapist friend bc of the 'bro code'. It does look like that from a certain angle and it's understandable why people see it that way but that's not what his character is really about as much as it makes sense otherwise.

He's essentially a battered housewife who's still in love with her husband but is realizing for the first time that the man she loves is a monster. That the man she loves and devoted her life to has been hurting her this whole time and she didn't even realize it. That the man she loves and spent so much of her life caring for has gone and hurt someone else. That he's most likely hurt others before and she's been utterly unaware of it the entire time she defended him and made excuses for him when he wasn't the best or the fairest or the most responsible or when he screwed up yet again solely bc of how much she loved and cared for him.

And Curly barely had any time to process ANY of that before Jimmy decided to try and kill them all to avoid the consequences of his actions. It was ultimately a selfish act even if he thought he wasn't just doing it for himself. Jimmy is selfish and needs to be in control or he loses it. He cares for Curly. He loves him. Curly's done so much for him. Curly's the only one who understands him, who doesn't hate him. Curly's his home. He resents how 'successful' he is but that's only bc he thinks so highly of him. He constantly puts himself down and put Curly on a pedestal and worships him while simultaneously mistreating him.

He treats his best friend like shit, he's awful to him. But he's not aware that this is the case or maybe he's in denial about it. He can't or just refuses to see how he's doing all of what he does for himself in the end. He justifies his attempt to kill them all (to himself and to Curly) by claiming he's doing this for them both. That if they were to get back to earth it would all be Curly's fault, that it'll ruin his life and career... despite the fact he had basically nothing to do with Anya's abuse. Jimmy's shifting the blame on him while acting like he cares for him. Well, he does genuinely care for him but clearly not nearly enough to not mistreat him or use him as a scapegoat for his own guilt.

Jimmy is the rapist, Jimmy is the one who does all of these horrible things. And yet it's highly likely that Curly would just blame all of it on himself bc that's exactly what Jimmy did to him. He's in so deep he can't see the facts of the situation.

It takes abuse victims so long to come to terms with their abuse. It takes time and reflection to see things with an unbiased and healthy perspective. Abuse (especially years of it) isn't just something you can just escape. It consumes you and can twist your reality. Curly had about a week or less to process all of it and then take action in a way that protected his crew and abided by Pony Express' guidelines. Dealing with something this serious in a setting that makes resolving it extremely difficult in a practical sense is already hard.

There were no locks on any of the doors except for medical and the cockpit. They couldn't just kill him. There was nowhere they could detain Jimmy that wouldn't involve corporate potentially penalizing the entire group. They could have used the cryopods but then there'd only be three available for any actual emergency and there were already five crew members and four pods in total. Also, I doubt corporate would be 'okay' with them using the cryopods for anything other than their intended purpose. Hell, even if they were able to make it back to earth without any incidents there's a good chance that corporate would consider the situation 'poor team synergy' and collectively punish the entire crew for Jimmy's actions.

So on top of having to deal with an already difficult situation, Curly has to grapple with the realization that Jimmy a: abused Anya, b: has been abusing him as well (for a very long time too), and c: has probably abused others before Anya and he had no idea about it. He needed to act but he didn't and it doomed all of them.

But it's so unrealistic (maybe even cruel) to put that much pressure on someone, force them through an utterly earth-shattering realization, and then expect them to do the correct/right/responsible thing in that moment. It's a little ironic how people vilify him for that when other characters do the same thing that nobody blames for it.

Anya is the ship's nurse. Curly is the ship's captain. They both have duties and responsibilities on board the Tulpar. She has to keep the crew healthy and safe and is the only one with enough medical knowledge to do so. He has to make sure that everything goes well and goes according to procedure. He's responsible for the crew, the cargo, and even the ship itself. Both positions are integral and require a lot of responsibility to do properly

They're both put through distressing and traumatic situations where due to them being human people with emotions and fears that make them essentially avoid their responsibility/doing what's required of them.

Curly has a freeze response and doesn't act when he should have when it was crucial to have done so. Anya has a fawn response and essentially puts her patient in danger and harm's way. She knew full well what Jimmy was capable of. She experienced it herself and she witnessed it happening to Curly as well. And yet she allows Jimmy to be alone with Curly while being fully aware of how dangerous he is. Which she shouldn't have, that wasn't the 'right' thing to do. Keeping him safe was her responsibility.

But Anya's human. She's going through a lot at the moment. She's terrified of Jimmy and she's trying to appease him so he doesn't hurt her again. It's a natural very understandable thing to do even if it's not the 'right' or 'responsible' thing. They failed each other when they needed each other most and I think that's the most tragic part of it. If anything, all of them failed each other in some way, shape, or form.

So it's incredibly frustrating to see people give Anya so much sympathy and grace for doing something so human yet still 'wrong' but then turn around and give Curly none of that for doing essentially the same thing she does.

I don't know for sure if it's actually because Curly is a man or if it's only part of it or maybe some people just lack that sense of awareness but it's depressing and frustrating as fuck as a male victim of sexual violence and abuse to see this kind of behavior and this much victim blaming towards a character who is undeniably a victim of abuse like I am.

[u3pxx]

thinking about my gavin parents earlier. specifically, karsten gavin and the way he loves klavier.

HI SORRY. and sorry for any mistakes on the german, google translate can only take me so far DFGHDJFDGHD this was my original thought earlier that i typed into my pc during class DSFGHD

Karsten shows affection the only way he knows how (buying expensive lavish gifts) Karsten, being an absent father in many ways, doesn't pay much attention to his children's interests. Klavier becomes interested in music and wants a guitar for Christmas, he mentions this several times to Karsten as he works, over dinner, every moment he can get, really. Karsten and Karen have a fight 2 weeks before Christmas that leaves them very cold towards each other, Karin throws herself into social events/parties while Karsten flies to another place to focus on his work. The fight and their absence affect Klavier deeply, more than Kristoph who is growing more used to this. Karsten gifts Klavier an expensive piano, Klavier is disappointed and his face starts to show it. Karsten grows frustrated at this and starts to ramble “Music, right, liebchen? Didn’t you say you wanted to play?” “Well, ja, but… I wanted a…” Karsten starts frowning. “Klavier, do you have any idea how expensive this is? You don’t like it? Fine then, fine. Do you want me to throw my gift away for you, is that it?” “Of course not, papa. Klavier, what do we say?” Kristoph chimes in and nudges Klavier, whose eyes are starting to water. “[Thank you, father.]” “Oh there he is. Come, come.”

i just. thinking about piece of shit extraordinaire karsten gavin who only knows how to make problems go away with material things

i love drawing bc it compensates for the fact that i can't write DFGHDJ

[originalleftist]

Hot Take:

Amber Heard did absolutely nothing wrong by hitting Johnny Depp, and you would think that a country know for its frankly weird fetish for self-defence, vigilantism, and "standing your ground" (to the point that we're willing to accept guns as the leading cause of death for kids under 18) would understand this.

But, you know, patriarchy. And worship of superior wealth/fame/power as proof of superior merit/moral character.

[toffeebrews]

Dog coded cross, but like it's sad.

not sure what this genre of art I'm doing is, but I like it.

[neon-candies]

Happy Halloween!

Warnings for: Child abuse, emotional abuse, unhealthy relationship

Angel probably has this nightmare frequently after Annie was "born". And he probably tried to avoid talking about it at first. But it gets to a point where he can't even hide his fears and concerns. However that's a conversation for another time.

[originalleftist]

Of all the utterly evil things that Musk has done, actively supporting a hate campaign of genocidal intent against his own child is, I think, the very lowest.

“He was cold,” she said. “He’s very quick to anger. He is uncaring and narcissistic.” 

Wilson said that, when she was a child, Musk would harass her for exhibiting feminine traits and pressure her to appear more masculine, including by pushing her to deepen her voice as early as elementary school. 

[aphidclan-clangen]

part 2 out of 3

[raviniaraven]

Hey just a heads up if you're going to Minneapolis Pride this weekend, if you pass a booth with people asking you to watch a video and they'll pay you a dollar, don't do it. They're a group like PETA that's trying to trick you into watching a graphic video about animal slaughter. It's a ten minute video of animal gore that they're trying to play off as activism. If you are any type of sensitive to gore, don't watch the video.

This isn't any sort of criticism of vegans or vegetarians, this is just a friendly warning about groups that want to show you animals dying and covered in blood. Regardless of your opinions on animal welfare, that's not okay to show to people with no warning.

[steviewashere]

Welcome Home

Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (Not Graphic But Prevalent), Referenced Period Typical Homophobic Slur(s), Referenced Drug Use (Recreational Use of Marijuana) Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Wayne Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Wayne Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Steve Harrington has Bad Parents, Coming Out, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Gets a Hug, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Al Munson is a Bad Person

Read the content warning!!

🫂—————🫂 He knows the person he wants isn’t home. But Steve can’t afford to stall any longer. If he continues to wait out in his car, it’ll probably be towed, and he’ll be arrested, and he won’t have the person he needs to bail him out. It’s not like he can just turn the car around, though; make his way back home.

Home doesn’t even exist anymore. It took one night where he thought he was alone, because he was always alone, for them to come back and see him. See him with another boy. Not experimenting, because he knows damn well who he is. But making semblance of love, because he’s been desperate enough for it his entire like. Now that he had it, or something as close to it as he can get from a late night cruising pull, it’s even farther away.

Yeah, maybe he should’ve rain checked. Maybe he should’ve bought out a motel room for the night. Maybe he should’ve just entertained himself with his own hand and the wrinkled magazines that Eddie smuggled for him.

Speaking of Eddie, he’s not here. His government replaced van isn’t parked outside the new Munson’s trailer. Only Wayne’s is. And he’s not sure if he’s ready to face another adult. He is an adult, he knows this, but sitting behind the big wheel of his car—his hands look like they belong to a child and looking at himself in the rearview mirror, it’s like matching gazes with ten year old him; wide-eyed, afraid, and forced against his will.

He is afraid. And maybe he should just let himself feel that. But he doesn’t have the time or the energy or the gall. So he shuts his engine off, hauls an old duffel bag over his shoulder, and makes the arduous journey that is the thirty second walk up the front steps.

Knocking, he swallows his pride. Every part of him is lost and disorganized. He didn’t style his hair. And he couldn’t grab his belt from where it had been kicked under his bed in panic. His shoes are untied. There’s also a large hickey at the base of his neck, unhidden by the stretched collar of some ratty maroon t-shirt he thought he tossed years ago. It’s stark against him in the reflection of the nearest window. He can also catch the dark bruises left on his biceps—grabbed by his dad when he tried to make an initial escape. Maybe he should’ve risked the arrest.

The doors open rather quickly, though. And through the screen, a plume of smoke pools over him from—what smells like—a stale joint. Wayne Munson stands on the other side with tired eyes and a pinched mouth. He’s dressed down in flannel pajamas and has that joint between his fingers. All his movements are slow as he takes Steve in.

“Eddie’s not home right now,” he states instead of offering a greeting. “Is there something I can do you for?” His eyes dip low from Steve’s. Following down the stretch of his neck, where it’s tense and rigid, over that hickey. Pauses momentarily. And then continues to look around, over, down—right up until he notes the bruises on Steve’s arms. “You…Uh…You making a runaway from a bad date, kid?”

Steve swallows. It stings a bit, though not from the hickey. When he closes his eyes to gather his words, he can almost feel the hand around his throat—the wedding ring cold over his wanted bruise, but the red hot spray of spit over his forehead. All as he cowered against his bedroom wall, tense to the floor he stood on, praying that his dad would make it quick.

He’s shaking, he knows. Trembling something minute that, hopefully, Wayne won’t pick up on. “Good evening, Mr. Munson,” Steve greets quietly, voice quaking. “I—I’m sorry to intrude, but I don’t know…There’s nowhere else I can go right now.” He peels his eyes open and peeks up through the screen door. Wayne’s eyes are the size of saucers when they lock stares. He hefts the bag over his shoulder higher, there’s a warm ache through his upper back. Slammed against the wall; remember, he reminds himself.

The screen opens wide and Wayne gestures over to the couch. “Leave your stuff by the door, kid.”

He steps through, plops his bag by the small breakfast nook, and chucks his sneakers to mingle with the pile. Then, he just stands in the doorway. Wayne’s off of his right shoulder. Towering over him a bit, but warm and solid. Steve knows he doesn’t have to be afraid, yet something in him skitters when Wayne’s left hand rests gently on his lower back. “Have a seat,” Wayne murmurs, “you’re shaking like a leaf.”

Acknowledging, without words to say, Steve nods. He shuffles over to the sofa and sits on the farthest cushion on the right, where he tends to settle when he comes over.

“You eat?” Wayne asks.

“No,” Steve mutters, “my dad didn’t give me enough time.”

“You like pepperoni on your pizza?”

Steve nods. “Anything except mushrooms, sir.”

“Wayne,” he says softly over his shoulder, “that’s my name and you wear it out all you like. I ain’t your daddy.” Steve just grunts in response, watching warily as Wayne orders them some food.

When he’s done, Wayne faces him again, leaning against the edge of the dining table. His joint has long since been put out, resting warm in the ashtray on the same table. Steve leans forward on his cushion, hands dropped between his knees. His hair falls limp in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Nothing matters now, does it?

“I’ll only be here a night, promise.” His shoulders hunch inwards. That ache back and persistent. And he knows wherever he sleeps, be it on the floor or the sofa or even in the grass outside, he’ll just wake up hurt. More than just physically. “I know that there really isn’t space for me here and I…I don’t know. I’m not expecting you to take me in just because I get myself in messes.”

For a moment, the room stretches with silence. Going diagonal with the former words.

Then, Wayne takes a deep breath. Shuffles over to a dining chair. And plops down, watching. “You mind telling me what happened?” He asks gruffly, though not pessimistically. “If you’re in trouble, I can only let you stay here a night.”

“Depends on what you view as trouble, Wayne.”

Wayne narrows his eyes, twisting his mouth. His left hand rests on the surface of the table, fingers stretched towards the ashtray and the discarded lighter next to it. “Illegal shit. Anything that gets you in trouble with that Powell bastard. Not including weed. That’d make me a hypocrite, and that’s one thing I ain’t.”

Again, Steve nods his agreement, the acknowledgement. He fidgets with the tips of his fingers. Nails digging into the fatty parts, turning them white with pressure. “I didn’t do anything illegal, swear. Just did something stupid.” Warily once more, he eyes Wayne. “How do you feel about Reagan?”

“That man can rot in hell for all I care.”

He chuckles, despite everything. Then, he takes a sobering breath. “I had a…I picked up a boy tonight. Because I wanted to have—We were going to have sex, to put it simply, Mr. Munson. And I took him to my room, thinking I’d be alone for the rest of the night…”

“And you weren’t,” Wayne states, not asking. What questions need to be asked to an admittance like that? Steve nods, mouth pinched and eyes shiny. “I’m guessing your folks came home.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers just loud enough to be heard. “I must’ve made a…noise loud enough to be heard downstairs. And my dad had just come home. And he…maybe the boy also made a noise, I don’t know. But one thing came after the other, and the next thing I knew my dad had gripped me on my arms and threw me against the wall and I thought he was going to kill me dead right in my own room and he was spitting about…he called me a-a fag and a fairy and I…

“I didn’t fight back. I didn’t speak. I was so scared. I am scared, Wayne,” Steve admits, voice trembling and his nose burning. “All I could do was take it.”

Carefully, Wayne extracts himself from his seat and situates himself on the coffee table. Right in front of Steve. “Where all did he hurt you, Steve?”

He swallows, remembering. “My arms,” he mutters, pointing, “and my neck and…he dropped me down on the ground and while I was reaching for my shirt, he got me on the ribs.” Narrowly, he misses Wayne’s furious gaze. Instead, he finds a shiny blank spot between mugs on the far wall. “He was so furious he didn’t even take his dress shoes off by the door,” he meekly states, “and he didn’t stop until my mom screamed at him to at least let me grab some of my stuff. She told him it wouldn’t be worth it, and I quote, ‘to murder our son.’ He told her that I wasn’t his, but he let me leave.” 

He’ll never thank his mom for that, but at least she granted him grace. Though, she didn’t look pleased either. Her face set and jaw clenched. He knows that if she had the chance, when he wasn’t in earshot, she would’ve said the exact same thing as his dad. Steve withers further at the thought, if that’s even possible.

“I’m just lucky that I’m not dead, right?” He adds a moment later, face wet with tears and throat thick with grief.

Wayne sharply inhales. “You’re safe here,” he says lowly, “just as Eddie is. You’ll forever be safe here, I promise you that.”

Steve’s eyes cut back to him. That ferocity in his gaze like a warm blanket over Steve’s shoulders, something he can cling onto and believe. “You know about him?”

“You’re not the first kid to run here from their daddy,” Wayne utters.

Something in Steve’s stomach twists slowly. His chest crackling with those words. Remembers when Eddie Munson was out of school for a week in eighth grade. When he came back: long sleeves in late May, hair shaved close to his scalp, heavy eyes, and new silver scars over his knuckles.

“I’m not…”

“Eddie would never cut his hair voluntarily,” Wayne states, voice grim.

Steve looks down at his lap, fingers picking nervously at each other. He murmurs, “I’m safe here,” but more of a reminder to himself. He’s not sure if he’s had a promised safety in years. All the stuff with Vecna and the Upside Down and now his dad—which never started with tonight; it had been growing to that, always something small like a slap to the wrist or a dull smack to the back of his head, but his life had never been almost choked out of him. He never feared, just always worried.

God, he always worried. And now here he is, trembling with his tail between his legs.

The silence stretches between them after that. Wayne gets up at some point to pay for the pizza, gather a couple plates, even relight his half-gone joint. And in the time it takes him to sit back down on the sofa with the food, Eddie comes back.

He tumbles through the door, a thousand words spilling out of him, coat hanging off of his elbows, and one shoe already stepped out of. He’s a whirlwind of movement and thing after another after another. But then he spots them on the couch; Wayne eating slowly and Steve curled nervously, face turned away from the door. “Aw man,” Eddie drawls. “Sharing pizza and weed without me? You guys always have all the fun when I’m not here.”

“Ed,” Wayne mutters, “we need to have a conversation, alright?”

Steve peers over, just as Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Did I…Is it something I did?” Eddie murmurs, voice falling meek. “Is everything okay?”

He can’t help but try to hide further. Flinching into himself, eyes closing on their own accord, cheeks flushed, and lips trembling. Tries to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he’s already opened the waterworks once tonight—they’re not going to close up again just from this. He looks to Wayne, eyes pleading for him to explain. He’s so tired of having to digest this, let alone regurgitate it.

“Come sit in my chair, Ed,” Wayne says, gesturing to the brown chair near the window. He waits until Eddie does what he’s told, sitting slowly and looking at them with his too big, concerned eyes. His eyebrows raise, even Steve can make that out through his blurry vision, waiting for some sort of explanation. “Okay, I need you to listen and not ask questions. No interruptions unless I ask you to respond, you got that?”

“Wh—Yeah, Wayne. I’m all ears; you’re freaking me out.”

Wayne nods gently, his left hand out in a placating manner. “You remember, I mean you most definitely do, but do you remember when you had to come here all those years ago?” He asks softly. Eddie acknowledges by nodding, nothing more. “Steve is going through something similar,” he explains gently, “and I’m letting him stay. If you want to know the specifics, that’s something that you’ll have to hear when Steve’s ready, got it?”

Eddie inhales slowly. His face gaining that same furious ferocity that Wayne’s had. But then he looks to Steve and all the hard features of his face soften. Back to something familiar and warm and homely. “Stevie?” He ventures. “You okay?”

He shrugs. Answers thickly, “I don’t know.” His cheeks wet with more tears and he roughly wipes them away with a shaking hand. “I don’t…I thought they loved me? Even just a little bit.���

Warmth crowds him as Wayne lays a firm arm over his upper back, hand wrapping around his right shoulder, just missing his bicep. “Eddie? Why don’t you clean up a bit in your room for his stuff? Get some new sheets on your mattress, too. Think he could use a sleepover, that alright?”

“Course,” Eddie answers almost instantly, voice soft and calm. “I’ll set out some pajamas, too, Stevie. You want a sweatshirt or a t-shirt?”

Steve sniffs and swallows heavily. “Sweatshirt, please.” 

Slowly and carefully, Eddie comes over towards the couch. He places a gentle hand on the back of Steve’s head. Thumb running up and down at the base of his skull. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “we’ve got you now, though.” And with that, Eddie retreats to his bedroom, the door clicking softly behind him. The rustle of things being moved around ever apparent through the thin wood.

Wayne clears his throat and pulls Steve in a little closer, tighter. He says close to Steve’s ear, “We love you here, you got that? You have no reason to hide yourself or sneak around or try and fit yourself in a box.”

He nods minutely. “M’kay,” he mutters, “I’ll try and find another place soon, I promise. I just don’t have the money—“

“Nonsense,” Wayne states steadfast, “this is your home now. And I won’t have it any other way.” He pulls back just enough to make them lock eyes again. The air smells of grease and weed and Irish Spring. Amber light flooding around them and dim enough to not hurt his head. Everything around him is soft, gentle. It feels like home. Wayne holds him by the shoulders, firm but not suffocating. “Don’t tell Eddie I said this,” he whispers, “but he doesn’t shut up about you. He’d kill me if I didn’t let you stay and I’d beat myself up about it. As long as you stay true and playful with my boy, then you’re my boy, too. You hear me?”

Steve’s eyes blur again and his nose stings and he wishes that he could stop crying, but this is nice. The warmth and the love and the tenderness. He could burn alive from it and still be grateful. It’s so much better than the lonely, cold sprawl of his parents’ house. A house he never thought he’d leave.

“I hear you,” he musters.

“Good,” Wayne murmurs. “Why don’t you go use up some of the hot water and take as long of a shower as you want? I’ll get your things into Eddie’s room and—don’t tell that Powell bastard at the station—but I’ll roll something for you, if you want it.”

Despite everything, Steve finds himself laughing from his belly and smiling enough to ache his cheeks. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “Warning, though, I’m really annoying when I’m high.”

“Then annoying you’ll be,” Wayne gets out around a chuckle. “And keep smiling, boy. You ain’t got a thing to worry or fear here. Even if your daddy comes running on over, I’ll make him leave just as fast with his tail between his legs, swear it.”

His smile relaxes to something soft, a ghost of a thing. He leans forward and hesitantly wraps his arms around Wayne, relishing in the hug that he gets in return. “Thank you,” he says, muffled into Wayne’s pajama shirt, “think you literally saved my life tonight.”

“You’re a good kid, Steve,” Wayne murmurs, “you’re always welcome in my home.”

He knows he’s crying again, a gentle and silent thing into Wayne’s shoulder. And yet, despite everything, he’s lighter.

Later, he tells Eddie all that happened and is held close, a hand in his hair and fingers tracing over his trembling shoulders. Later, Wayne will make a grand breakfast spread to celebrate new family. And even later, Wayne’ll crack a joke about no funny business while he’s sleeping. But Steve will know, through the tired and playful glint in Wayne’s eyes, he’s all too happy that Steve and Eddie figured themselves out.

For now, though, Wayne hands him a clean, soft towel. It’s dark green and well loved. And he knows, too, that his soul will eventually look just like that. And just like the towel, he soaks it all up. Including the warm, “Welcome home, son,” Wayne says before he closes the bathroom door.

🫂—————🫂

[erinwantstowrite]

the sneak pics have me wondering why peter feel the need to keep apologizing all the time ? is it because adults used to get mad at him all the time ?

yeah he has a LOTTT of unpacking to do with that. he still thinks that because he did things like this, it gave the adults around him the excuse to yell at/say nasty things to him. peter goes into a lot of detail with Dick about his previous foster homes in chapter 15, and this time Dick knows he has to ask because Peter's response to Dick and Wally realizing he knew about the "glitches" in some way and didn't tell Dick is absolutely heartbreaking

[originalleftist]

I looked at these nice photos... And then I remembered that of these seven people, to my knowledge:

At least one (Jeremy Renner) is an alleged domestic abuser.

At least one (Robert Downey Jr.) is a serial apologist for abusers (Depp, Armie Hammer, Mel Gibson), therefore likely one himself, and is now cast to play a whitewashed character (the Romani Doctor Doom).

At least one (Mark Ruffalo) is a Hamas apologist/Anti-semite who blamed the murder of Israeli hostages entirely on the government of Israel, and not the terrorists who actually abducted them and pulled the triggers.

And the director (Joss Whedon) is also an abuser, serial adulterer, and racist misogynist hypocrite.

Sigh. Why can't the world not suck? Why can't the people who play heroes actually be heroes?

I miss them 🥹🥲

[genericpuff]

yeah so let's talk about the scenes between hades and thanatos that went from being goofy "haha a boss being hard on an employee" 'jokes' to child abuse as soon as it was revealed that hades was thanatos' adoptive father

and yes i'm putting a content warning jump for ❗❗❗ child abuse and neglect ❗❗❗

so first off, before we even get into the Thanatos / Hades father son relationship thing, I wanna mention a sequence in Episode 39 and why I think Rachel included the scene of Hades reaming Thanatos for being bad at his job.

And it's simply because of what happens the episode before.

Persephone's ableism aside (seriously, I have legs, that doesn't mean I want to walk everywhere, I also own a car, that doesn't mean I have to drive everywhere, maybe flying is tiring? Maybe he's injured and shouldn't be flying? Maybe he has a disability that results in him having wings that can't fly? Check yourself Persephone 😒) this is one of the earliest signs of LO's "Revenge for Persephone" problem which is CONSTANT throughout the narrative - that anytime Persephone is slighted or inconvenienced in the slightest, then the narrative needs to ensure there's some kind of revenge, either directly for her sake or indirectly for the audience's, and it's often always facilitated through or by Hades.

And that leads us to Episode 39, which is when we get exactly that.

Moving onto the scene itself, this is what we call in the work environment a "dressing down". This is not how legitimate employee reviews are given. Hades is not planning on giving him any sort of formal review or constructive criticism. He's planning on tearing him a new asshole just for the fun of doing so. You can even see it written on his face. He's doing this just for the joy of tearing him down. As someone who's been subject to this kind of behavior in previous work environments, I can assure you that this is not normal behavior that's indicative of a functioning workplace, this is abuse.

Taking that train scene into account, it's a way to indirectly "avenge" Persephone. She was slighted by Thanatos, so now Hades is going to make his life hell. But here's the thing - this not revenge for Persephone's sake. Hades doesn't even know Persephone's in the building, and Persephone doesn't know that Thanatos is being berated by Hades. But the scene is here anyways because of course the audience needs to feel "better" about Persephone getting pushed by a stranger at the train stop.

Now, scenes like this have been done in other stories, often times to explain the behavior of bullies/aggressors/etc. because in many cases, textbook bullies, whether children or adults, are abusing others because they're being abused by a higher authority so they take it out on those "weaker" than them.

But this doesn't work in LO, for several reasons.

First off, it pretty much plays it off like a joke, especially when the scene continues after Persephone has walked into Tower 4.

But beyond that, the higher authority abusing Thanatos is someone we're expected to root for. He's the main love interest. While this could be written as a legitimate character flaw, we all know now, in the year 2023, that Rachel sees Hades' behavior as a feature, not a bug. While most scenes written like this would cast a new perspective on a bully and allow some room for understanding and empathy from the audience, in LO's case, we're still not expected to empathize with Thanatos here, they want us insulting him right alongside Hades.

And of course, that brings us to the big blue elephant in the room - the knowledge of Hades and Thanatos' relationship completely re-contextualizes these scenes in a way that's far too depressing and horrifying for a writer like Rachel to be able to wrap up confidently.

Of course, she tried, but her efforts... can't even really be called efforts. For starters, because a lot of it is played off as a joke, as if Rachel can't handle even a single moment of legitimate emotion, she has to "write off the awkward" by making things "funny".

But when she does try to seriously write these scenes of introspection, reflection, and communication, it just winds up turning into the main protagonists going "woe is me, I was the real victim!" and never actually suffering consequences for their actions as a result as they Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their victims into apologizing to them. It still isn't asking us to empathize with or side with Thanatos, it wants us to end up right back at square one supporting Hades' side of the story.

Literally "well you weren't that bad, at least you were there!" bare minimum accountability, followed by "well I didn't make your life easy so I get it" from someone who was literally a child who was abandoned and left to live with an abusive asshole. It wasn't his fault that he was in the situation he was in, it wasn't his fault that he was a "handful" for Hades because he was a CHILD and Hades was the ADULT, but the comic paints it as Thanatos being at fault anyways for being "ungrateful".

But there are even more subtle signs that point to Thanatos' childhood with Hades that, while not specifically mentioning it, do paint a pretty nasty picture of how Thanatos views Hades and the people around him as a result of his childhood, in a very fridge horror "stop and think about it" kind of way.

First of all, the fact that Thanatos hasn't even been allowed to touch Hades' car. Obviously he's referring to specifically driving it but it makes me wonder what kind of bare minimum accommodations Hades made for his own adopted son. Again, played off for a joke.

And of course we have this one piece of concept art-

Now to be fair, this is concept art from before it was retconned that Thanatos was Hades' son, but it still casts an icky implication in hindsight both because of Hades' treatment towards Thanatos as well as the implication that Thanatos was getting "too close" to Persephone for Hades' liking. This sort of weird dynamic can be found in the actual comic when Hades admits he knows Thanatos was sleeping with Minthe.

And then there was this one scene, which prompted me to write this post in the first place, shared in the ULO Discord.

Thanatos has just met Daphne, so it's not necessarily weird for him to be suspicious of her asking for his phone, but the actual dialogue... doesn't line up with what you'd assume he would be suspicious of.

He doesn't say "you're not going to peek through it, are you?"

He specifically says "You're not going to smash it, are you?"

Now, if this line were intended to be anything more than some throwaway "haha funny" line (which, again, where's the punchline here) then maybe it could point more to something that happened between him and Minthe. But there's nothing that implies she was ever violent towards him, and the one time she IS violent towards anyone, it's implied that's the first and only time she's ever escalated things to that point and that even she's shocked and disgusted at her own behavior.

There is plenty to imply that Thanatos was abused by Hades, though.

So reading this line in hindsight... really just feels like further proof on a growing pile of evidence that Thanatos was constantly being berated, controlled, and abused by Hades, a guy who he never asked for as a father figure, but was still expected to apologize to anyways.

But there is one last thing I wanna mention before I wrap up. One thing that was mentioned by yet another user in the ULO community that really stood out to me because it just goes to show how horrible Hades has been towards Thanatos, both in the past pre-retcon and in the present well after it was established that they were father and (adopted) son.

And that's Hades' two dream sequences that involve him having children with Persephone.

One of these scenes is from before the retcon. The other is from after.

Neither one features Thanatos as a part of Hades' visions for the future.

Hades has been Thanatos' entire life. But Hades doesn't see Thanatos as even a part of his.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Mayfield pt 1

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 1.9k || cws: check tags || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

~~~

Steve can’t believe he’s willingly knocking on the Hargroves’ door. As if his own anxiety wasn’t problem enough, the shrill sounds of two people arguing over the thrashing volume of metal music sets his teeth on edge. After a few seconds of waiting, he knocks harder. The arguing stops abruptly, and he hears a woman’s voice call out to wait a moment. 

He hopes the woman opens the door, assuming it’s Max’s mom. He doesn’t know her stepdad, but if the man is anything like his son, Steve wants to avoid him at all costs. Since Billy’s Camaro is missing from the driveway, hopefully he can avoid both of them.

To his relief, a woman with bright, copper hair and freckled skin opens the door. Her yellow cleaning gloves are almost dry, but there are still wet spots scattered on her pink t-shirt and jeans, as well as a few bleach stains. Large, blue circles halo her green, bloodshot eyes. Steve pretends not to notice the dried tear tracks striping her splotchy red cheeks.

“What can I help you with?”

“Hi, Mrs. Hargrove, I’m here to talk to you about–”

“Oh no, hun,” she interrupts him, “I’m sorry but we aren’t interested.” 

Steve looks down at himself, wearing a normal blue windbreaker and jeans, and wonders what she thinks he’s selling. Before she can shut the door, Steve catches the edge to hold it open. He sees her flinch at the force of his grip, the flash of fear behind her eyes reminding him of Max’s two weeks ago. He lets go, taking a step back to give her some space.

“No, ma’am, my name’s Steve Harrington and–”

“Susan,” the man screams from inside the house, loud and angry and too similar to the sound of his own father’s voice after a few drinks. They both flinch, Mrs. Hargrove faster to recover. Even though she’s standing straight, seemingly filled with confidence, Steve can still spot anxiety in the thin line of her mouth. “Who the hell is it?”

“It’s no one, Neil, just some boy selling magazine subscriptions,” she shouts, moving back inside. 

Steve turns to leave, hopes dashed, when he feels a hand wrap around his wrist.

She leans close, lowering her voice. “You’re Steve?” He nods. Mrs. Hargrove chances a glance over her shoulder, then looks back to him again, absentmindedly chewing on her bottom lip. “Wait around the side of the house, I shouldn’t be too long, ok?”

The door shuts in his face, almost grazing his nose. Steve wonders if he shouldn’t just leave, if she’s the kind of person to set him up and send Billy or Neil out to greet him instead. Except she seemed genuine, and this might be his only chance to win her approval. 

He waits for almost twenty minutes before she finds him leaned up against the siding underneath what he assumes is Max’s window, since he’s pretty sure Billy isn’t reading last month’s issue of Tiger Beat. She pulls out a pack of smokes from the pocket of her sweater, and he frowns when she doesn’t offer him one.

“So,” she says after a long exhale, “you’re the boy Billy and Max won’t stop talking about?” She ashes her cigarette, giving him enough time to school his stunned expression. “Can’t seem to shut up about you, surprised you’ve never been around before. Smart that you haven’t, though. Don’t blame you at all.”

“What do you mean?” Steve prods.

“Well Billy’s been bitching about you all year, practically. Saying you’re the reason he ain’t captain of the basketball team. Neil didn’t care too much for the excuses, though. Hasn’t let the poor boy forget it.” She takes a step closer to him and he watches as she looks over his split lip, the stitches, and his black eye. “Figured there was more to it than that.”

“He’s got the spot now,” he lets out a self-deprecating scoff, “can’t exactly play with a concussion.”

Her l brow creases as she frowns at him, tilting her head to the side. “You know, Max never really told me what happened that night two weeks ago. She got home almost an hour before Billy did, dropped off by God knows who–”

“The Sinclair’s, ma’am,” Steve interrupts. He second guesses whether or not he should bring up Lucas at all, realizing too late the problems that could cause, when Mrs. Hargrove smiles.

“Is that the young boy she’s been hanging around lately– him and his friends?” She ashes again. There’s a light in her eyes that’s been missing since he first met her, and she shines with it. 

“Yes, ma’am. Lucas Sinclair.”

Genuine concern laces her question when she asks “is he sweet to her?”. But her small smile tells him maybe she already knows the answer, just looking for confirmation.

Images of the worst day of Steve’s life flash through his mind, and in them he can spot the soft moments. Max and Lucas comforting each other, always searching the other out across a crowded room. Lucas’ poorly concealed admiration and Max’s fondness masked under a layer of sarcasm as thin as tissue paper.

“Yeah, he’s sweet to her,” Steve replies, answering her smile with his own. “Lucas is a great kid, Mrs. Hargrove. One of the best.”

Her eyes water and she smiles again, but it’s strained this time, as she looks towards the house where screaming music filters through the walls. Steve sees the weight on her shoulders, the burden of living with someone like Neil Hargrove. He feels sympathy on the fringes of his conscience when he thinks of being married to a man like that, or being raised by one. How that kind of anger could turn a kid into someone like Billy, or scare someone enough to stay in a bad situation.

The sympathy fades into a bitter aftertaste when he thinks of Max. He knows all too well what it’s like to live in a home with a scared mother and an angry father. How it feels to have a mother who will rock you in her arms and say everything’s ok, only to stand behind her husband when the belt comes off. 

He looks at Mrs. Hargrove and notices small bruises lining the inside of her right arm. The noise permeating from the house forces its way into Steve’s pores. All he can smell are stale cigarettes and motor oil. There’s empty beer cans sticking out underneath the bushes along the house and he kicks at one, harder than he should. He can’t help picture matching bruises on Max’s small, frail arms, and suddenly it’s all too much.

“Mrs. Hargrove, I came here to tell you I want to be Max’s babysitter.”

She frowns, clearly taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Oh, well it’s usually Billy’s job to–”

“Billy is the one who did this, ma’am.” He gestures to his face and attempts to reel in his frustration. “To be frank with you, Billy almost killed me and one of the kids I was with that night. He’s dangerous, especially to her. And you know that. You have to know that. Right?” 

Mrs. Hargrove sighs, dropping her cigarette into the grass to wipe the tears at the corners of her eyes. She pulls down the sleeves of her sweater, crossing her arms over her chest as she folds in on herself. Makes herself smaller.

She hesitates before saying, “Neil will be upset if Billy isn’t the one bringing her places. Says it gives him responsibility. Accountability.”

“Good thing Billy won’t have time now that he’s captain of the basketball team. And isn’t that what his dad wants?” Steve will counter every argument she has if he has to. He refuses to let another kid grow up in an angry home, scared and alone, even though Max’s is so much louder than his own. Somehow he thinks that might be worse than his own, empty, quiet home.

“We can’t pay you.”

“I’m not asking for any money. I’ll do it for free.”

She shakes her head, frustrated and out of objections. “You think you can keep her safe from them when I can’t, is that it?” Her voice cracks, and it cuts through him.

Steve tries to relax, opening up his stance and softening his voice. Hoping that she just hears him out. “I know you don’t know me, and that you and your family are new around here, but the Harrington’s are a big name in this town. My parents are well connected to lawyers and local politicians. I’m close with Jim Hopper, the police chief–”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” She snaps. He notices she’s shaking and he raises his open hands up higher.

“No, ma’am. It’s not a threat.” Steve looks her in the eyes, tries to convey everything he’s so bad at saying and everything he’s probably missed along the way. “It’s a promise that she’ll be safe with me, no matter what, and I’d do anything to keep that promise. Please, Mrs. Hargrove.”

He thinks it’s the please that gets her. Steve can see the moment she caves, heaves another great, heavy sigh as she wipes her sleeve across her eyes a final time before tucking it back under her arms. The quiet eventually settles between them. She pulls the pack of smokes out again, holding one out to him in offering. He takes it.

“She needs rides to and from school,” she starts, staring at him as she speaks. Steve doesn’t know what she’s hoping to see, but he feels himself light up inside, excitement beaming out through his wide smile and crinkled eyes. “Neil gets home first, usually around five. I work shifts, so sometimes the latest I get home is after nine.”

“Max can stay at my house as long as she wants,” Steve says, not bothering to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. “Even if it has to be overnight, I’ve got a spare bedroom that we never use. I’m also more than happy to bring her home after nine when you work late, so you don’t have to drive across town when you’re done.”

Steve knows his implications are obvious. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep Max out of the house when her mom isn’t home. He can’t help how desperate he feels at the idea of her being alone here anymore than she already has been, and how he’s so close to making sure that it never happens again. 

He can already picture Max’s muddy shoes in the entryway on a Friday afternoon, and hear her bitching about his cereal choices on a Sunday morning. She’ll wrestle with Dustin over the remote for Saturday morning cartoons. Steve’ll even learn how to cook for three, standing in the kitchen over a hot stove while the two kids do homework at the counter, posted up on the barstools that’ve never been used before.

He’s practically choking on the idea that he’s not just giving these kids a place to hang out, but that they’ll be hanging out with him. In his own house. For the first time in almost four years, Steve’s house will have people in it. People who like him and actually want him around. Kids for him to watch out for, and take care of when they need it.

“Alright,” Mrs. Hargrove sighs, “let me go grab a pen and paper, I’ll give you my schedule for the month.”

[originalleftist]

So, I know virtually nothing about Chappell Roan- I gather she's some kind of new popular performer, and she has to deal with a lot of this shit, and she talked some shit about Israel and Kamala Harris, which I'm not happy about, but-

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

Not when its done to her, and not any of the times its been done to other people.

Some people act like celebrities just exist to entertain them 24/7. There is very much an attitude I've seen that celebrities owe it to their "fans" to cater to those fans constantly, to devote their entire life to doing so, and to forfeit all privacy as the price of fame and fortune. And they're not allowed to complain because they're privileged. Which, yeah, in a lot of ways they are- except for those that didn't choose to become celebrities (including child stars), who can be some of the most viciously exploited people in the world.

BUT REGARDLESS, THEY'RE STILL PEOPLE. And shit that would be harassment, stalking, privacy violations, etc when done to anyone else is still those things when it's done to a "celebrity".

This is not being a "fan". If you actually admired or respected these people or their work, you wouldn't behave like this. This isn't how you treat someone you like- this is how you treat someone you think you own.

Unfortunately, as we've seen throughout history, many people do not and refuse to understand the difference.

and then people had the gall to say she was being unreasonable for creating boundaries