#FUCK EVERYBODY!

[cyarskj1899]

she was right and you punished her unjustly for it.

unforgivable

The most disgusting thing about this documentary was Megan saying that Tory had the balls to text her and say she looked sad, and then not too long after make a whole album and release a video of him cutting up horse legs.. that is sick asf!!!! Deport HIM

[everwalldigan]

Bruce: *waking up in a hospital that he drove himself to after having a heart attack and telling absolutely nobody* hey…

The entirety of the batclan looking over him with Dick in the centre, an absolute terrifying grin on his face:

Dick: hello Bruce, nice evening isn’t it? Got something to share with us?

Edit: the fic is now out on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57780508

[nando161mando]

Everybody's a Republican now

[heartorbit]

and so love has come to an end

[spyres-moved]

like idk maybe this is just me but i'd genuinely rather throw my loose change into something that could possibly be but is very unlikely to be a scam and just be like "oh well" if it does actually turn out to be a scam than try to denounce every single palaestinian that just wants to live in safety. tripling down on that behaviour is just fucking embarrassing. "it's not racist to be skeptical of donations asks" that's true but saying that a group of brown people are all hustlers running a mass scam ring is undoubtedly extremely racist you fucking clowns.

[nova-rpv]

4 month old sa2 redraw of gay

dont forget ur daily clicks!!

[rocketbirdie]

face value

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[teddybeartoji]

gojo feels like he's gonna DIE if he doesn't get to kiss you after you've just swallowed his cum. he's instantly tugging you up or he's dropping down to his knees beside you (whichever is the fastest yk) and he's just on you. lips locked, heavy breathing; his hands are just fucking all over you. he's sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth at his own taste. he's such a freak<333333333333

and i think he gets even more turned on if you make fun of him for it a bit. call him disgusting or call him a perv and he's popping another boner<333333333333

[zeezu-ix]

HI I MADE A JERMA CARDBOARD CUTOUT FOR THE SIMS.

HERE IT IS INCASE ANYONE WANTS TO PUT JERMA IN THEIR HOUSE.

[steddie-as-they-come]

everybody talks

i could not tell you what this is. i wrote it all in one sitting. enjoy or whatever

It starts with the graffiti.

Scribbled in thick, permanent marker across the boys' gym lockers.

STEVE HARRINGTON FUCKS EDDIE MUNSON

The custodian tries half-heartedly to scrub it off, but he only manages to get about a letter and a half off the locker before his shift is over. It's back up by the next day anyway.

Half the school is walking on tiptoes around Steve, waiting for him to blow up and demand a manhunt for the culprit.

The other half is snickering and laughing as he walks by in the halls.

Steve doesn't give two shits. He holds his head up high and walks onwards, ignoring the laughs and the kissy noises. He needs to graduate. He needs to not get eaten by a terrifying monster from an alternate reality. More pressing things happen to Steve Harrington than grade school graffiti.

Until he turns the corner and sees Eddie Munson glaring furiously at his closed locker.

He doesn't speak to him. Even if the graffiti isn't a big deal, there's no need to add any fuel to the fire.

Eddie finally steps forward and wrenches open his locker door. The crowd milling in the halls begins to laugh.

Papers spill out, dozens of them, cascading over the floor and burying Eddie's shoes. One slides all the way to Steve's feet.

He looks down automatically.

There's an atrocious drawing of two stick figures bent over each other. The one on the bottom has two lines of curly hair, while the one on the top has a singular swooping line of graphite.

Great.

Steve swiftly scoops it up and crumples it in his fist, shoving it in his pocket. He'll toss it out later.

As he hustles past Eddie, steadfastly not looking in his direction, he thinks he hears Eddie mutter, "Every class period."

Steve turns a corner, and the train wreck that is Eddie's locker is gone.

He slides into his seat, knowing the band girls who sit in the back corner of the classroom are whispering about him, but finding he couldn't care less.

The teacher starts class.

He reaches into his pocket and slides the crumpled paper between his fingers, over and over.

Steve raises his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher nods and waves him away, and Steve scrambles out the door, rounding the corner.

Eddie's still there, kneeling by his locker, trying to scoop up papers.

Steve kneels next to him. "Hey."

Eddie jumps like an alley cat that's been spooked. Steve could swear his hair starts bristling, puffing up.

"Your majesty," Eddie finally says, glaring back at the pile of paper like Steve'll disappear if he doesn't look at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

It's not really a question.

Steve answers it anyway. "Came to help," he says simply, picking up a piece of paper that has EDDIE MUNSON X STEVE HARRINGTON written on it in bold letters, surrounded by stupid little hearts. "After all, my name's on half this stuff."

"How kind," Eddie said. "Keeping me distracted while your buddies key my van or something?"

Steve reels back. "Huh?"

"I'm not dumb, Harrington," Eddie says, crumpling up another sheet of paper. Steve can barely catch EDDIE HARRINGTON on it before it's balled in Eddie's fist. "I get this is a prank or whatever. I just can't understand why you'd involve yourself with me. The King and the Freak."

"'Cause I'm not the King anymore." Steve says, standing to drag a nearby garbage can closer. It's already half-full of papers. "You sure don't listen to gossip, Munson. Billy beat my ass and I lost every friend I had. So. I think it's a prank on both of us."

"Oh."

Eddie, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, shuts the fuck up. Steve had seen people lose their meals to his impassioned school cafeteria rants, but it only takes Steve Harrington to shut Munson's infamous mouth.

Wait, that sounds wrong.

They keep cleaning in silence - relatively. Steve starts balling up the papers and tossing them at the trash can, unable to stop himself from hissing out a yes! if he makes the throw.

"Impressive," Eddie says dryly. "Can you do this?" He raises one hand in the air like he's about to take a pledge, and in the other he folds and rolls a slip of paper until it's shaped like a joint.

Steve chuckles. "Nope." He takes the fake joint, and it comes undone in his palm, revealing the same crude stick figure couple from earlier.

Right.

Steve had forgotten what they were doing here.

Evidently, Eddie had too. He looks down at the drawing, then snatches the paper from Steve, tossing it in the trash, two spots of pink high on his cheeks.

He scoops the last of the papers into his arms, dumping them in the trash can. "You can go back to class," he tells Steve, settling down with his back against the locker.

"What are you doing?" Steve says, slightly caught off-guard by the dismissal.

"Seeing if those pricks will try to do it again." Eddie says, folding his knees up to his chest. "They do it all the time. I think there's a jungle's worth of trees just being used to make shit for my locker."

"You're just gonna guard it?" Steve asks.

"Sure," Eddie says, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. "What else have I got to do?"

Steve plops himself down next to Eddie. "I'll guard with you," he says stubbornly.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks, like Steve's particularly slow. Steve's gotten that tone of voice a lot in his life.

"Yeah." Steve says. He parrots, "What else have I got to do?"

"You're just gonna fuel the rumors, dude." Eddie says. "My name's mud around here. You know that damn well."

"Sure," Steve shrugs. "But it hasn't been half-bad hanging out with you, and I don't care what these jackasses think of me anymore. Bigger things to worry about."

They settle into a comfortable silence, watching the students pass by, their whispered comments and curious glances bouncing off the duo. Eddie taps his fingers rhythmically on the ground, humming a tune Steve doesn't recognize but finds oddly comforting.

He reaches into his pocket to feel the small paper, then tugs it out. Is it dumb that a stupid drawing is making him think about himself this much?

"Hey, Eddie," Steve starts, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Eddie says idly.

"How do you... I mean, when did you know you were gay?" Steve asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's expression turns to one of suspicion, but he answers anyway. "I guess I always knew, deep down. But I really figured it out in middle school." He looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Steve bites his lip, considering his next words carefully. "I think I might be... different too. I mean, I've only ever dated girls, but lately, I don't know. I feel... something."

Something means he worried for weeks when Billy beat the shit out of him because suddenly all these feelings were tugging at his brain. Feelings for people like Eddie Munson.

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. (What? Steve's not looking at his lips. Huh?) "Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High, might not be straight? Now that's some gossip I'd actually pay attention to."

"Shut up," Steve mutters, but he's smiling too. "I'm serious."

"Well..." Eddie trails off. "We can try it out?"

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Huh?"

"We can try it out." Eddie repeats. "But, uh," he leans close, his breath ghosting over the shell of Steve's ear. "Just so you know, I prefer to be the one on top."

Weeks later, the school is overtaken by a new kind of graffiti. Papers plastered to every surface, a spiky handwriting (usually used to write setlists and D&D character sheets) adorning each and every one of them.

EDDIE MUNSON FUCKS STEVE HARRINGTON

[robotpussy]

apparently riots are have been planned to take place in London this Wednesday. I needed people to stop saying "they can't try that in London 🙄" like 3 years ago. they ALWAYS do shit like this in London. why do people think because a area is diverse, bigots won't attempt their shit in those places? I hate it when people are shocked there bigoted hate crimes can happen in London that doesn't mean shit!!

[antivancathedral]

I don't even know how to word this in a way that makes sense and I think in an overall world building sense this is a major case of "Man I think it depends" but I actually don't think Spite is a "demon".

Spirits and Demons are essentially the same, yes, and I think there's much to be said about this in in parallel to a healthy person vs a deeply traumatized person, but to quote Neve, "one is more likely to manipulate you, or kill you," etc etc.

A demon is a spirit whose purpose has been twisted. And I don't think Spite's purpose has been twisted much at all.

Determination's purpose is "accomplish my goal (whatever that may be)". Spite (the emotion)'s purpose is exactly the same, with the added benefit of "especially against the wishes of others".

I think the demonic version of Determination would be "Ruthlessness", not Spite.

Spite (the guy) is not wholly consumed by his purpose like other "demons" are. He doesn't pursue his goals at the expense of his companions. He has several other interests even if they seem a little silly (learning what tastes good, or even new forms of combat like fire). And he tells us his purpose several times...it's his promise with Lucanis! Escape, kill, and live! This goal is one of determination and it has not changed by his becoming Spite. The goal is not warped in any way even with his joining to Lucanis.

Bellara speculates as to why Spite doesn't just take Lucanis over or turn him into a nasty mound of flesh. I want to argue that this is because Spite is a named spirit, not a demon.

What's more spiteful than not allowing your captors to change you? What says fuck you to people who would use you as a tool than self-determination? What's more spiteful than being determined to be free, to fight who would enslave you, to live?

My working theory is that Spite is not a demon in the same sense as, say, Wisdom being corrupted into Pride, which twists a desire to guide, teach, or navigate situations with care into a desire to be right and unchallenged.

I think Spite is to Determination as Eulogy is to Compassion.

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

hot garbage 👇

[onwardnroyalty]