#Sorry I just had to say something because that was rancid

[marsnolias]

Probably the worst take on earthspark s2 I've ever seen is that they "erased the queer representation from s1 with Robby's weird forced crush" and that "Dot and Alex being straight takes away from said queer rep" and boy do I have some things to say to that.

Namely, 1: Nightshade is still there! They didn't get a spotlight in the 10 eps that came out, no, but it's not like they got killed off. They don't get referred to by pronouns either, but...

2: what WOULD be queer erasure is if Nightshade went "You know, I just went by they/them because I was confused, but now that I've come to know myself, I'm actually cis". THAT would have catastrophic queer erasure.

3: a straight relationship existing doesn't mean the showrunners are queerphobic??? Like there's nothing problematic about Dot and Alex? Never mind they fact that they seem to be a loving couple and an interracial one.

4: speaking of interracial couples, I feel people do not realize how important interracial rep is, and how little mainstream rep seems to be? There are only two (2) interracial Disney royal couples I'm aware of: Pocahontas and John Smith (which has a boatload of problems in and of itself) and Milo Thatch and Kida from Atlantis — a movie barely recognized by Disney and, might I add, a couple that has never kissed on-screen.

5: still on the subject, Robby and Izzy's mutual crush shows up in one (1) episode. And guess what else —

Im 90% sure this is also an interracial relationship? I don't know what race Izzy is, but I kind of doubt she's either black or Filipino.

5: queer rep is important, but again, I gotta reiterate that interracial rep is also important, and just because you don't have one doesn't mean you have to completely ignore the other. "Love is love" was historically used by both interracial and gay couples, and interracial marriage wasn't legal in every U.S state until 1967, so it's kind of important!

To get personal, my white mother nearly got disowned by her family after she announced she was marrying a black man. This was in America, in the 90s, too! Her sister never spoke to her again after she (my mom) got married. When I was younger and more white-passing, most people didn't believe my dad was my bio dad, or that we were even related.

[yournightmary]

Vi HCs

content warning:: i guess there’s some angst? but it’s arcane so it’s nothing new

AN:: just a mix of different headcannons to get me through season 2.

pitfighter!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’m sorry but she smells so bad. I’m not talking about a little stink- she smells fucking rancid. It’s a mix of sweat, alcohol, blood, hair dye and sometimes even puke. I don’t think she even showers properly, she just runs a wet towel over her body and calls it a day.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She dyes her hair with the cheapest hair dye in front of her cracked mirror- that’s why it’s so shitty. Doesn’t buy enough and ends up not covering her ends every single time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Barely has any clothes. Owns 3 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts, all of them ragged and stained. Doesn’t even wear the shirts most of the time, she just wraps her chest with bandages.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ At first she didn’t want to do the eyeliner thing but a few fellow fighters told her it’s something to be recognized and remember for. For the first few times she actually payed attention to how she’s applying it, but after that she said fuck it and just slapped it on. Also she doesn’t use proper eyeliner, maybe something like water-activated face paint.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Really craves touch. She’ll glue herself to random girls (bonus points if they have dark blue hair) at bars and blame it on being drunk. Nothing sexual, just plain affections.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Her every day looks the same. Wake up in the middle of the day, sulk on the shitty mattress that she calls her bed, work out, put on her make up, head to the pit, drink till the morning. There’s literally no difference in them.

young!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I don’t know where i’ve read it I think it was like an interview or something but she’s literally just a girl. She didn’t want to be the strong fighter that everyone knows not to mess with, but that’s who she has to be to survive in the Undercity.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Definitely gave music a try. Like be so fr, she has a saxophone on her bed. Maybe she found it on a job and thought it was too cool to sell. Always wanted to play guitar but it was out of her price range.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She knew she liked girls from very early on and so did everyone around her. She didn’t hide it from anyone, there was literally no reason to. In season 1 you can even see she has a poster of a half-naked woman next to her bed, like come on now.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’ve seen people saying that she doesn’t know how to make food but hear me out. I think she’s actually a pretty good cook due to her being the ‘caretaker’ when Vander couldn’t do it. Definitely cooked for Powder when she woke her up in the middle of the night because she was so hungry it was bordering on being painful.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She cuts her own hair. One time she fucked up so bad she had to shave her whole side and it just kind of stayed with her.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Never does anything for herself. Whenever she finds something- like clothes or food- she gives it to someone else. Always makes sure the others have enough before she takes something for herself.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She feels so guilty after stealing stuff from other people. She’s not stupid and she knows how hard life in the underground is, and that it justifies her actions but still- she’ll roll from side to side instead of sleeping, thinking about how much of a shitty person she is.

dating!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Literally the best girlfriend out there and I will die on this hill.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She’s so touch-starved it’s unbelievable. When she was a teen she didn’t really experience anything relationship-like and then she got locked up for a few years. She’ll always have her arm around you, her hand on your hip or waist.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Oh my god her hugs are so good ahhhh. It’s just like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. Really likes to give hugs from behind too.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves cuddling, especially if it involves her lying on top of you. She doesn’t need any pillows if she has you and your lap, stomach or chest.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She is such an acts of service girl. And it goes both ways! If you make her dinner or plan a whole date by yourself she’ll feel so loved.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She stares so much it’s borderline creepy. She’ll just look at you in silence for a few minutes before turning her head away with a smile, thinking about how lucky she is to have you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You’ll be cuddling with her before sleep, scratching her back or scalp for the whole time. Once you think she’s asleep you stop and she immediately looks up at you with furrowed brows, asking why you stopped.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ While she is proud of her physique and stuff she does feel self conscious about her hands. Mostly because of all the scars and bruises, maybe a little because of how manly they look.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She was a victim of being treated like a guy because she’s more masculine presenting than feminine. Pay for her food at a restaurant, do her makeup, tell her she looks pretty not handsome.

[all2angels]

BURIED MYSELF ALIVE | basement!gerard x reader

warnings: this is kinda intense don't read if sensitive, NSFW!!, exaggerated writing, kinda cringe but it's meant to be like that, gerard is sooo gross and pathetic, i've never written a bj scene before please be kind 🙏 probably a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes because i could not bring myself to proofread im sorry

this was the last place you wanted to be in, like, this was genuinely a fucking hellhole.

when you walked in, the smell was almost rancid. his room was filled with trash, half-eaten chips, mountains of unwashed laundry, socks that had something in it that you didn't want to think about.

he offered for you to sit on his bed, you didn't want to, but it seemed like a better option than the floor, so you sat on the edge of bed.

you hated yourself for having the slightest bit of empathy, then maybe you wouldn't be in this place. gerard had asked you if you wanted to watch a horror movie at his place after you bonded over the topic one day, and you said yes, but have been putting it off for about three weeks.

all of your friends told you to cancel on it, they said that gerard wss a gross pervert freak and that you wouldn't want anything to do with him, but whenever he'd asked you if you still wanted to watch a movie with him he'd look so pathetic and desperate, you didn't have the heart to say no. but you wished you declined it.

gerard was walking all over the place, with a panicked look and rummaging through his stuff. you thought he was probably looking for the cd that had the movie. you wondered how he could find anything in this place. while he was looking, you looked over at his bedside table, seeing dirty magazines. you let out a scoff. couldn't he have at least hidden those before i came over?

"please don't be mad.." he says, his voice filled with guilt, "i know you've- we've waited for weeks, but i can't find my CDs." he takes a seat next to you, and you hold your breath. he stared at you, you didn't know what to do or say, he was just staring awkwardly.

"it's... fine? i guess..." you said, unsettled by the way he looked at you. you swear that he almost leaned in, and you were trying to prevent anything like that from happening. his eyes was filled with infatuation, and yours was filled with absolute disgust. the way he looked at you made you feel dirty. he was so fucking pathetic, but it was kinda hot how much he seemed to like you, how much he seemed like he wanted to please you.

you turned away from him out of pure embarrassment that you thought in the slightest bit that gerard 'pervert' way was attractive or hot, but you couldn't help it. you decided that the only way to stop these thoughts was to get the fuck away from here.

"hey, i should go..." you spoke up, standing up from the spot in his bed you were sitting in. you waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you and frowned. he looked like he was about to cry. jesus fucking christ you could throw up right now.

"gerard...? are you okay?" you sigh, sitting back down. you couldn't leave him like this. you hesitate, but you put your hand on his back, comforting him. you didn't want to ask, you wanted to get out, "what's wrong?" you say through gritted teeth.

"i'm really lonely, y/n, please don't go." he rests his head on your shoulder. he starts to ramble on about something, and you tune out his voice. the more he talked, the more you started to be impatient.

"you're so fucking pathetic..." you said. out loud. fuck. your eyes widened, realizing that he had heard it. he lifted his head, but the had his gross hand on your thigh. you were going to apologize, but the way that he looked shocked made you want to rage.

"are you serious?" you snap, he looks confused and hurt. "you couldn't possibly think you had a chance, c'mon dude. you're so- i mean, you're a freak."

"i jus', uhm, i-i like you—" before he could even finish his sentence you laughed at him. no fucking way. you turned to him again, and seeing his eyes, you knew he was genuine. his eyes were red from crying, and his cheeks flushed.

"you're so fucking pathetic, gerard. shouldn't come across as a surprise, i don't like you back." you say, standing up to leave, but before you can he reaches for your hand. his hand was calloused, it was rough.

"please-" he begs, "please, listen— i promise you..." he doesn't know what to say, but he wants you to stay so bad. "I'll do anything for you. I'll do anything."

"no! stop it, okay? i. don't. like. you. get that shit through your head. i don't even want to be your friend, okay, you-" he cuts you off this time with a kiss. he tastes horrible, but you don't stop it. fuck it, you think. you liked the kiss.

he breaks the kiss, and you could feel his hard dick on your thigh, his face is close to yours. "give me a chance, please..." he says.

you sighed and pushed him onto his messy bed, making him sit on the end of the bed and going on your knees in front of him. you start to unbuckle his belt, then you undo his zipper. you could hear him whimper. you take out his dick, a little part of you at least expected him to have a big dick, but he doesn't. the size was fine, not like it was too small. it wasn't trimmed, and the smell was somehow stronger than other dude's dicks. you try not to think about it too much and hold your breath.

you tease the tip, licking off the precum which tastes sweet and bitter. you swirled your tongue around his tip, and feel him twitch. "fuck..." he moans. you feel his hands on your hair, petting you softly, it felt awkward though, you just brushed past it.

you give his dick a few pumps, hearing him beg for you hurry up. you spit on your hand, messily spreading it on his shaft before you part your lips to take him into your mouth. you look up at him, see his eyes closed, and head back. you kept on moving up and down, he let out a loud groan.

you continued bobbing your head up and down, you teased his balls. he made such pretty noises when you did that.

you kept your pace steady until you started to feel his dick twitch in your mouth, you began to quicken your speed until he eventually released his load in your mouth, it spread to your face and chest, and whatever was left in your mouth you swallowed.

he dropped onto his bed, panting heavily. you cleaned yourself up with a cloth you hoped was clean on his bed. it was probably filled with cum anyway.

you sat next to him. his dick was still out.

"c-can we do that again?" he tiredly asked, looking over to you.you sighed heavily. "i guess so, whatever. just don't tell anyone." you warned, rolling your eyes. welp

[hatoheart]

hey so I’ve said before I prefer to keep my blog a drama free place but

Oh well. It’s my blog and I can break my own rules as I see fit lol.

My background with Lily Orchard: I had been a fan since about summer 2019 (20 years old, I was born December 12, 1998) and had heard her talk about the various abuse she claims to have gone through throughout her life. With no reason to believe otherwise, I just accepted this. I bought into everything she said when allegations came out against her because I had already anchored my beliefs to things she’d said. It’s hard to dismantle beliefs that are so ingrained in you.

In June 2024 I made a tumblr post asking for actual evidence, and to be fair, I had plenty of people come to me in good faith. Unfortunately, I was unwilling to believe a lot of what I was sent, parroting the same excuses for them I’d heard Lily use. I like to think of myself as someone who’s objective and looks at things from every side, and yeah, I’ll fully admit I was not doing that at all here. I got dunked on a bit, rightfully so.

I was a member of Lily’s Patreon server from June-September 2024 (I only just joined Patreon itself in June 2024). I started as a $1 Patron before bumping up to a $5 Patron for access to the Patron chat. I wouldn’t say I was especially close to Lily, I certainly wasn’t part of her “inner circle”, and got reprimanded by her a few times for various minor things, but ultimately she trusted me enough to let me into the private “server regulars” chat she implemented a week or so before I left.

The first major crack came when she used me venting in her stream chat about my beef with KP as an excuse to drop her and Sai’s full names. I did not at all endorse that and was actually quite pissed at her for doing that. I value my privacy a lot, and I try to extend that courtesy to everyone else I come across online. I’ve got plenty of good friends online and I couldn’t tell you the real-life names of about 90% of them.

Ultimately, the incest game folder was the major incident that got me thinking. She did her best to debunk it, but it was just… such a flimsy excuse? It seemed like she was desperate to cover it up. I don’t know, I’d bought into plenty of things she’d said in the past, but this seemed… unbelievable. So after spending a few days conflicted, I looked back into the evidence I’d been given months prior. And it was… a lot. I lashed out at some people trying to help me during this time, and blocked someone who’d been very cordial to me in DMs. I was stuck. I didn’t know what to believe. I suppose you could say this was my breaking point.

Ultimately the evidence did prove overwhelming, so on September 13th, 2024, I quietly left Lily’s community. No big statement, no fuss, just quietly retracted my Patreon sub, unfollowed on tumblr, and unsubscribed on YouTube. I’ve been quiet for the past month, give or take.

And man, has hindsight been 20/20.

She frames everything as “my boundaries tho” so that she can excuse being rude to her fans. She consistently denies Tara Callie/Stockholm and other wrongdoings without any proof to back up her claims.

I’ve watched KP and Courtney’s videos. I’ve looked at Britt’s evidence. I’ve privately made amends with all three of them.

I had already planned on watching Joon the King’s video when it released. I was a fan of his prior and figured if he was covering Lily… then there must be something I was ignoring.

Part of the reason it can be so difficult to look into Lily’s past is because the resources aren’t neatly gathered in one place. Joon’s video does just that. An easily digestible resource for people to get the gist of who she is.

And I’m sorry to anyone I may have hurt on her behalf. I am not claiming to be innocent here, I knowingly dug my heels in while claiming to want evidence, and then refused to look at it. I’m sorry for the rancid shit I’ve said and done to people in defense of Lily.

But I’ve opened my eyes. I’ve stopped hiding from the truth.

I’m not going to discuss this further, as I’ve said I prefer to keep my blog a fairly lighthearted place for me to hyperfixate and shitpost. I’m not interested in dunking on Lily or harassing her (please don’t harass her), but just being transparent and letting everyone know where I stand as of right now. This needed to be said eventually.

[natalievoncatte]

CW: discussion of death and dying.

The gun was still on her hip when Lena walked into her penthouse. She probably should have gotten rid of it, just for the sake of disposing of evidence. It was far from the only one she owned, and she wouldn’t miss it. Then again, one does not discard lightly the weapon of fratricide. She’d decide what to do with the murder weapon later; right now, there was only one thought screaming in her head.

I killed Lex. I killed my brother.

It kept repeating in her brain on an endless loop.

I killed my brother for a liar. A betrayer. He was right and I was wrong. She only-

Lena was not alone. There was a figure seated on her sofa, staring straight ahead. Lena knew those blond curls, falling in a dark river like warm honey. Supergirl.

Supergirl, not Kara. Kara was good. Kara loved her, trusted her, watched out for her, had her back. Kara kept her secrets and gave her a shoulder to cry on always had her back. Kara was good, and Kara was a lie.

Lena walked around the couch, eyes wide and lips trembling, her features pulled into a mask of morose fury. How dare she just break in here and… sit there.

“I died.”

Lena froze.

“I died,” Supergirl said, again. “The clone of me that Lex had, she was a duplicate created by Harun-El somehow. She killed me. I died.”

Supergirl’s brilliant blue eyes flashed in the twilight of Lena’s dark apartment and locked on her.

“There was nothing. No warm light of Rao welcoming me home to live in peace with my people forever. No tunnel of light. There was just nothing. I was gone and then I wasn’t. Alex said the grass brought me back.”

Lena licked her lips. She was fixed to the spot.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m Kara.”

Those two little words, those treacherous words, hit Lena like a freight train. Her knees buckled and she sagged, catching herself by an end table.

Kara met her gaze.

“There were a million reasons why I never told you. They’re all stupid and pointless. When I woke up that was the first thing I thought of. I died and I never told you.”

Lena tried to speak, but her throat had gone so dry that it was like trying to breath through a mournful of sand. She sagged further, barely able to fall into a side chair.

“At first I just didn’t know you well enough. Then I screwed everything up by being a complete ass to you, and I never even said I was sorry. But I was sorry. So I was too scared to tell you because I didn’t want you to hate me. Then by the time I wanted to tell you again, all of this had happened and I was still afraid you’d hate me.”

Kara looked down at the floor.

“But then I was dead and none of it mattered anymore. None of the things that had been important to me mattered when I was dying. You know what I was thinking as she crushed the life out of me?”

“No,” Lena choked out.

“This is it?” said Kara. “All that… and this is it? Just like that? This is all I get?”

Silence ruled the dark apartment. The back edge of Lena’s gun dug uncomfortably into her flank. Kara just sat there, looking through the floor. Perhaps literally.

“Kara,” Lena said, without quite knowing why. “I’m sure… you weren’t…”

“No, Lena, I died. It wasn’t like when Reign beat me to a pulp and threw me off a building. That was different. This was different. I can’t even say how. I just know.”

When Reign…

Lena had been there that night. Reign had beaten Supergirl into a coma, thrown her off a building and left her broken and bloodied in the street. Lena thought she’d died that night.

Wait.

That was Kara, too.

Sharp, rancid bile, harsh and acidic, burned the back of Lena’s throat. She choked it down, trembling.

Kara looked at her again.

“I have something else I have to tell you.”

Lena needed a drink. Now. She wobbled across the room to the kitchen and grabbed the nearest wine bottle, pouring herself a glass and downing half of it in one go. It was a dry red, harsh and sharp on her tongue.

“Kara,” Lena began. “Before you say anything else-“

“I’m in love with you.”

Lena wasn’t sure what she expected Kara to say, but not that. Not just… say it. She couldn’t say it. Not when Lena has been grasping that secret so hard that it always threatened to slip from her fingers, reedy to leap from her grip from being held so tight. The words simultaneously made her feel as if her heels would float from the floor and nearly drove her down to it. She leaned on the white marble countertop, trembling.

“None of the reasons I kept that secret matter anymore, either. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’ll leave if you want me to. I just… I died,” Kara’s voice crumbled into a sob, barely intelligible, “and I didn’t tell you.”

Lena said nothing. She downed the rest of the wine.

“What do you want from me?” She finally choked out.

“I want to tell you about Krypton. I want movie nights and game nights and big belly burgers and brunches. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad I don’t know how I never did. If you want that.”

Again, Lena went silent.

“I want to make up for the shit I’ve put you through. I want to show you how much I care for you, as often and as thoroughly as I can. Dying without you fucking sucked. I want to live with you instead.”

Lena’s breath quickened. Kara’s boots creaked as she stood up, her cape billowing slightly behind her as she crossed the room, keeping a respectful distance.

“I’ll go, if you want. I just had to say it.”

Lena pressed her fingers against the countertop until they went white and her palms trembled. She felt the weight of the gun on her hip.

“Stay,” she whispered.

There is no prompt for this one. The idea just came to me and I had to write it out.

[ckret2]

What your thoughts on other bill ships? Like Kryptos/Bill or Stanley/Bill. I love your Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone fic on ao3 and this is my first time using Tubmlr, so I’m not sure how it works here, so sorry if I sent this wrong place 💔

u found the right place

I don't ship him with any of the Henchmaniacs (except for saying an eye-bat is his ex because it's the funniest possible option), but I think he's hooked up with half of them. I'd say "casually hooked up" but I don't think there's anything casual about it, the Henchmaniacs are fueled by petty drama and rancid vibes.

I acknowledge Kryptos is easy for ships because he looks like he could conceivably be the same species as Bill and we know so little about him you could give him almost any personality, but i'm not interested in it myself. Especially since it feels like a lot of what I've seen with Kryptos/Bill goes for "Kryptos is the one nice guy in the gang and Bill is tsundere for him" and that doesn't do anything for me.

I occasionally contemplate "wouldn't it be fucked up if Bill hooked up with Stan so he could pretend he's with Ford and Stan knew but still went with it for some reason (idk why, maybe Stan's super lonely, maybe Bill's currently wearing a smoking hot human body, the point is we want DRAMA so any excuse will work)" but outside that, nah. I think Stan and Bill would be VERY fun partners in crime and they're GREAT to bounce off each other, but I prefer them platonically, I don't feel a romantic or sexual spark between them.

You wanna know what Bill ships I'm fascinated with?

Bill/Trembley. it's GOTTA be one sided though, Bill's gotta be head over heels for this weirdo like a teenage girl for her first celebrity crush while Trembley never even notices

Bill/the howling void he totally lied about not dating in TBOB. Here I am 15,000 words deep into writing their entire relationship start to finish... I was literally already writing about Bill dating a black hole, who happens to howl, prior to TBOB; so the book just took my OC and made her canon??? yeah sure fine I'll take it, damn.

Bill-possessing-Silas/the 100-something wives he stole from his cultists according to thisisnotawebsitedotcom. weeks after that reveal this is still the funniest & most fascinating thing to me simply because Bill had ABSOLUTELY NO REASON to do that, truly enthralled by his potential motives, I cannot believe this triangle is married

Bill/the shaman. I just think something was going on there. I can feel it. The shaman taught him a bit of magic, how often do you think that happens to Mr. Trillion-Year-Old All-Seeing Eye? Probably not much!

[chapel-of-rizztual]

cw: mentions of vomiting, mentions of past abuse (nothing graphic)

Dew was brought to Phantoms room by a rancid smell. It was strong and acidic, reminding Dew of the smell of sulphur from the pits. He pushed the door open and nearly gagged as the smell only got stronger and more intense. The room was dark, the curtains pulled tightly closed to block the early morning sun from streaming in. He flicked the light on, immediately noticing a puddle of vomit on the floor by Phantom’s bed. That explains the smell. 

“Phant?” Dew enters the room, kicking the door closed with his foot. “You in here?” 

The lump under the covers on the bed whimpers and Phantom’s very tearful face pops out from under them. He spots Dew his face crumples, more tears spill down his cheeks and he lets out a shuddering gasping breath. 

“I- I’m sorry.” He gasps out. 

Dew frowns, looking at Phantom with confusion.  “Sorry? What are you sorry for, bug?”

Phantom doesn’t say anything just points to the vomit on the floor with a pitiful sniff, more tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Just for that? For not making it to the bin? Bug, you don’t have to be sorry for that, we’ve done that before.” Dew laughs. 

Phantom shakes his head and another sob shudders through him. 

“S-sorry for being sick.” He sobs again and Dew can see him begin to visibly shake. “Please don’t punish me.” 

“Punish you? Babybug, why would I punish you?” Dew asks softly moving closer to the bed, carefully stepping over the vomit puddle. He hope the grimace on his face isn’t visible but with the way Phantom whimper and cowers back, he’d noticed. 

Dew sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches out to pat at Phantom’s knee through the covers. 

“Why would I punish you, baby?” 

Phantom chews on his lip.  “Was sick. Was bad.” 

“Baby, that’s not bad. Everyone gets sick, it’s okay.” 

Phantom shakes his head with a whimper.  “No. No, it’s bad. I was bad.” Phantom tugs on his hair, thrilling in distress. “Now I’ll punished because of it.” He tugs even harder on his hair.

Dew grabs his hands gently pulling them away from his hair.  “Don’t do that, darling, you’ll hurt yourself.” He places a kiss to each of his knuckles. “Why do you think you’ll get punished? Because you were sick?” 

Phantom nods.  “I always did when I was back at home. Back in the pit.” He lets out a pitiful sniff. “We always got Locked in a room and forgotten about until we weren’t sick anymore. I was sick a lot as a kit.” 

“Oh you poor little puppy.” Dew brushes the hair from Phantom’s face, feeling his forehead as he does. He had a little fever but nothing that Dew is too concerned about. “You not feeling too good, pup?” 

Phantom pouts leaning into Dew’s touch and shakes his head. Dew pouts back at him before moving so he’s sat against the headboard, pulling Phantom into his lap and wrapping the covers around him. Phantom winces as he’s moved and runs at the lower part of his belly. 

Once he’s settles into Dew’s lap he buries his head into his neck, nosing along his scent gland with a purr. Dew brushes Phantom’s hand out of the way, replacing it with the overly warm hand of his own. 

“You got a poorly tummy, baby?” Dew rubs at his belly where Phantom’s hand had been. 

Phantom nods into his neck with a sad little thrill.  “Hurts.” He whispers. 

“Oh baby, I’m sorry.” Dew continues to rub at his belly. “Do you think you’ll be sick again?” 

Phantom sits up in a panic and shakes his head rapidly.  “No! No, I promise I won’t. I’ll be good.” 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay if you do, baby.” Dew runs his spare hand through Phantom’s hair. “Just tell me, okay? So I can get a bin or something so you don’t throw up on the floor again.” 

Phantom looks a little unsure but he nods as he settles back into Dew’s neck.  “You promise I won’t get in trouble?”

“I promise, darling.” Dew presses a kiss to the side of Phantom’s head. “It’s not your fault you’re sick and you’ll never get in trouble for something like that.” 

Phantom lets out a little rumbly purr as the warmth from Dew’s hand helps soothe the pain on his belly. 

“You wanna take a nap? Hopefully you’ll feel better after a nap and if you don’t we can get you some medicine from the infirmary.” Dew kisses his head again. 

Phantom nods and buries his face deeper into Dew’s neck. Dew pulls the covers up higher so just his and Phantom’s heads can be seen from over the top.  “Get some sleep, little bug.” 

Phantom lets out a very sleepy chirp as his eyes begin to slip closed, the warmth from Dew killing him into a comfortable sleep. 

[utilitycaster]

In the end, it is misogyny but in the form of that Imogen (and most of the female cast, if we are being fair) gets reduced to just being a woman to the point that criticizing any real flaw, wrong doing, or "hey i personally maybe perhaps don't like that she did this" is turned into an attack on her because she is a woman, because after all, all women are perfect and so so dainty they must be protected (sarcasm)

Without mentioning the attacking real women in the name of the fictional one

It really is the "God forbid a woman do anything" but in it's worst form

Sorry for venting, been having thoughts about the fandom for the past 5 years

YUP. I do recommend Unlikeable Female Characters by Anna Bogutskaya which I devoured in like, one sitting over my winter break and posted a bunch of excerpts from but this discourse is extremely not limited to the CR fandom. I mean, think about all of the endlessly churning nonsense about the women of Gone Girl and Midsommar. I am going to see Love Lies Bleeding tomorrow and have steered well clear of really any discussion because I simply would like to see buff lesbians in a crime drama but apparently the discourse is rancid.

Of course there are people who assume ill of female characters while excusing men. That is absolutely a big problem. But again, we can barely talk about that. I recently made a post about how Laura is not a particularly chaotic player, and indeed is one of the most cautious players in actual play, and again I think there is a serious and important conversation to be had about how there's probably a reason why, say, Travis and Taliesin are more likely to make extremely bold moves, because they didn't get raked over the coals during C1 for stealing a cool broom from a guest character! I actually think Marisha has managed to hang on to some of her boldness and it makes her a stronger player but I would not have been surprised if she retreated after the hate she got from Keyleth. But yeah, in actual play, bold moves are pretty important. We can't even talk about how real-world misogyny holds back the actual actors without some moronic wretch being like "FIGURES THAT A MISOGYNIST CUNT LIKE YOU LIKES A MALE ACTOR."

When a character who is a man - or in some cases, characters who are not men but are played by men - does something people don't like we can say "wow, I didn't like this, but it was an interesting choice by the actor!" but we aren't allowed to either talk about the reasons why a real world woman might hesitate to play a character who does ugly things - because of the misogynistic backlash that will land specifically on her as a real person - nor can we compliment her for going for it and playing a complex flawed character, because how DARE you say a woman is anything less than some kind of Divine Feminine ideal. At best you're allowed a two-dimensional caricature of She's So Sweet And Good But Sometimes Gets Angry (this also happened to my friend Keyleth).

And this might reveal my own biases but like. I as a woman don't love being called self-centered, but that, personally, would probably lead me to some reflection. If you call me a girlfailure, even jokingly, I am going to break your nose. It's really telling that like...one of the absolute no-brainer "hey stop calling grown women girls" feminist tenets has gone by the wayside particularly with the set of people who think that meta that fails to put women on so high a pedestal they are untouchable is misogynist. They are awful towards women, fictional and real.

A line that always stuck with me from, bizarrely, a book about wordplay, was that Victorian men would treat women of their same classes as their superiors, but never their equals - they would coddle them and protect them but they wouldn't actually engage with their thoughts and foibles. (This happened to my friend Jester).

Anyway my personal solution is to keep going. On some level, as my previous post indicates, while I don't want the harassment it also only underscores my point, that a lot of these people are way more invested in being a dick to women on the internet than writing meta about the pretend women they think they like. I have to imagine they're doing this because either think they're entitled to meta they like from people who can actually fucking write it because god knows most of the people making this complaint have the most "if you can't dazzle them with brillance, blind them with the most purple-prose bullshit you can muster" attitude; or because they literally are just champing at the bit to attack women online with the ostensible veneer of "but it's FEMINIST to call THESE women cunts because they said my blorbo wasn't saintly and flawless." However, again, I know that I'm pretty bullheaded and forcibly unlearned the uh, patriarchal idea that women should not be confrontational. I do not blame people who look at this whole situation and say "I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself because this is so unpleasant."

[plusvanity]

Sorry but Jan being seen as a non rat by Varg and getting overall along is crazy work to me 😵‍💫I am inclined to belive that he shares his ideology and iirc Varg questioned his ancestry to which Jan gets defensive and says he is indeed norwegian and I know for a fact that Varg does not belive at all lmaooo

I don't see it was crazy, but rather expected considering some of the similarities between the two, but I get it that it's weird when Varg's ideologies and the people who he seemingly 'approves' (for the lack of a better term) collide in an obviously contradictory way.

Jan is Norwegian for being born and raised in Norway. His citizenship is practically Norwegian. All I am aware of is that there are speculations that he might be half-Moroccan. I don't know if it's a fact or not, so don't quote me on this.

If he gets defensive, it's probably because he doesn't like to be teased about it. I don't know if it has something to do with his political ideology and how he himself wouldn't 'check his own box' so to speak, but it might as well be just that.

Why I believe that Varg 'protects' Jan's image is (to a certain degree) the same reason why he protects Fenriz's image.

If anymore ever happened to agree with Varg on something, to get along due to their similarities even for a short period of time, he will remember that and use this to his advantage in a way to make him seem like he was 'part of the group' and that people had the same opinions as him for all of this time.

What he insinuated in his videos about Jan was 'oh, but Jan hated Øystein too. (It wasn't just me!)'. And he uses this to create this pseudo-scenario in which he normalizes his rancid hatred. 'Everyone hated Øystein, this was nothing new (It wasn't just me!)'.

He knows Jan is not fond of Øystein, nor bothered to make any elaborate public declaration about what he stands for politically or whatever, so he takes advantage of this 'lazy silence' to push his own narrative.

[thegreatimpersonator]

Ok, I have not paid much attention to the whole tayvis relationship because I just don’t care about her personal life. But seeing your master post…holy shit. I mean we are at a time and place where most people of his stature and wealth are guilty of at least a handful of those things and it’s gotten to the point where it has turned me off from paying attention to anyone above a certain wealth bracket. You get to a certain point and you are so successful, so famous, so far removed from reality, you don’t care about things like bigotry, sexism, racism, etc. because it doesn’t affect you. You only care about what affects your bottom line. So the morals of your friends (or boyfriends for that matter) are also of no consequence. The only thing that matters is if those morals affect your bottom line. Hence people ok with Weinstein until it got them in trouble. All this to say, until we make the right people wealthy, the people who actually have a need to improve the world with their wealth and not just be complacent, I will be leaving my interest in them behind. The argument is that you can find something wrong with everyone and every celebrity so why care. Perhaps. But the truth is there are still some people out there, if you look hard enough, that want to do good with their money and understand how lucky and privileged they are and aren’t ok with how the world treats those less fortunate. So why spend time stanning those whose only remaining purpose in life is to center the earth’s gravitational pull around themselves? People say love is blind. That certain things don’t matter when you truly love someone and you are talking out of your ass when you say you’d dump a friend, family member, boyfriend over morals or ethics. But I’m not. For the first time in a long time I really connected with someone. And anyone who has tried the dating scene in the past decade can tell you it’s fucking hard out there. I thought I had finally found “it”. Till that “it” revealed he had been accused of rape in college but it was just a “misunderstanding”. I don’t regret dumping that hot red flag for a second, even if I remain single forever. I would never be able to live with myself knowing I was against that behavior for everyone except this one guy whose special just cause he gets me. But unfortunately humans can make excuses for just about anything or anyone. You are who you love or keep in your circle. When you excuse it you endorse it. I’m sorry to be so simplistic but that how I feel. I just wish we had more celebrities with actual guts.

Sorry, long winded and rambling but that Travis mega post was truly WILD.

absolutely agree with everything you said, but now imagine you have a problem with people like travis and so you talk about it but then get absolutely relentlessly harassed by a brainwashed, apathetic, hypocritical fandom for months and, simply for having issues with travis and not blindly adoring the ground he walks on, get called things like a 'vibe vampire', 'soul sucking', 'pathetic' 'draining', 'rotten' 'annoying weirdo' and they say things like 'you're not being an activist you're just chronically angry online', 'you just complain about everything, it must be exhausting' and just the constant belittling of your emotions, having to take multiple hiatuses bc the harassment becomes too much, and having to watch as everything that travis gets exposed to is excused, watered down and somehow turned into a positive on why he's such a good person, having crazed fans make whole blogs defending him from any 'hate', and watch people say taylor and him are the perfect couple, and say anyone who doesnt like them must just be miserable and stupid.

that fandom is truly so far from any saving and perfectly encapsulates why celebrity culture has become so rancid. It's also the perfect example of why we're at this point with our politics. normalizing trump supporters, racists, misogynists, etc and making excuses for those who endorse/befriend them. celebrities don't care about you, only your money and the power you have to make them famous. they may be thankful for you but that's not worth throwing any semblance of your morals out the window.

[nekropsii]

okay.

cronus hot anon back at it again.

i read your stuff and checked out as much of openbound as i could, and id like to formally retract my statement.

I fucking Dunning–Kruger effected myself. I didnt know he was that bad. I am so sorry for just coming to your house and being rancid on your furniture.

cronus is fucking horrible, jesus christ.

This is so funny. Here’s to hoping you feel better soon, lmao.

But also, this goes to help prove the long-running pet theory that most people who thinks Cronus is hot or are Into Him don’t actually know anything about him. If it makes you feel better, what just happened with you here is relatively common, I see people (especially younger people, like early-mid teens) get super into this guy, only to realize later through actually reading the Openbounds or something that he’s so fucking bad it’s triggering for them or something.

Half the time those kids’ll say they got into him because some older fans in their circle were batting hard for him and that just feels… Frightening…? Like a niche version of those older fans back in the day that would bat hard for Bro Strider to kids Dave’s age. Like, get the fuck out of there!!

Anyway- Glad you were willing to hear me out, anon. I sincerely hope you have a good day, despite this horrible little revelation you just had, lol.

[ghxstlly]

have Becker and Poole ever broken up then got back together?

The short answer? No!

The long answer...

---

Staring at Poole from across the room, Becker was almost stunned by how quickly the energy surrounding them had turned to ice, the words he’d carelessly spat out only moments earlier hanging in the air like rancid smoke.

Between them, it was almost as though time itself had stopped, the pair frozen on two sides of an invisible divide, their fight and the things they had said to each other suddenly feeling so pointless, so unimportant that Becker could barely remember what they’d been arguing about in the first place.

In that same instant, what had been frustration and indignance on Poole’s face had shattered into an almost childlike look of hurt, his posture visibly deflating as the fight bled out of him, and Becker knew, right then, that the argument was over.

“...You… What?” Poole’s voice, when he finally managed to speak, was barely above a timid whisper, fragile and choked with emotion. “You think… You think we should… s—separate?”

It was a painful, sobering feeling that struck Becker at that— a cold splash of guilt beyond comparison. Setting his jaw, he cursed under his breath, struggling to face the pain in his husband’s eyes, in that moment feeling like the absolute scum of the earth.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that,” He tried, unable to keep from sounding frustrated, defensive, even as his gut twisted into a hard knot. “I just— look, I’m fed up, Fred, I’m fed up with you not listening to a damn word I say, with us fighting all the time, and I want for us to stop and figure out how to get along again because otherwise we’re just gonna keep doing this over and over and over again. That’s all I was trying to say.”

Staring at him, his arms folded around himself almost protectively, Poole looked small, wounded, like he wanted to disappear into the floor. And for a long, fragile moment, he was completely silent, his gaze searching Becker’s face, before he suddenly sniffled, his eyes welling with tears.

“But… You said… Ira, is that really what you want?...” Swallowing thickly, Poole tried to blink back the tears, only for them to start to spill down his cheeks anyway. “D—Do you want us to split up?”

“No— damn it, come on—” Becker sighed, crossing the room and attempting to reach out, only for his husband to take a small step back, twisting away from his touch.

“It’s okay if you do,” Poole insisted, his voice wavering as he fought his hardest to keep his composure.  “I mean— I—I don’t want you to be unhappy, so… I don’t mind… I don’t m—mind leaving—”

“Stop it—” Becker snapped, and quickly caught himself, running a hand over his face in an attempt to calm down, to find the right words, before he continued. “Don’t… say things like that. I’m not unhappy, and I sure as Hell don’t want a divorce. I just want you to listen, to meet me halfway for once, before this marriage ends up in the fucking ground and we start hating each other. Understand?”

Pausing, then, he found himself holding his breath, thrown by the confusing mix of painful emotions welling up inside of him as he watched Poole process his words, watched his lip quiver, his eyes glitter with fear, and, with an awkward, rough sigh, reached out again, this time succeeding in pulling his husband into his arms.

“...Alright, look, I’m… I’m s—… sorry.” He forced the word out, his voice sounding strained, the unfamiliarity of the apology making him feel awkward and uncomfortably vulnerable. “I lost my temper, okay? I lost it and said something stupid— some idiotic, asinine shit that I don’t mean. I don’t want to split up, not even for a night, much less forever, because even when you piss me off, I still… love you. You know that, and you know I wouldn’t have married you if I thought I could be happier without you. You’re my husband— my fucking everything. And I’m not about to let that change.”

Poole stayed silent. 

In the long, tortuous moment that followed the apology, as though stunned, he was tense and still in Becker’s embrace, standing there taking in those words, as rare as they were from his husband, for a short eternity, a long period of agonizing nothing until at last he abruptly crumpled like a paper doll, sinking against Becker with a soft sob. 

Wincing, Becker immediately lowered them both to the floor, gathering him against his chest in a tight, protective hold.

It had been a long time since he’d last heard Poole cry, and the sound of it now, small and pitiful, made his throat feel tight knowing that he had been the one to cause it.

“Ira, I—I… I don’t want to lose you…” He heard Poole weep into his shoulder, his hands trembling lightly where they clung onto the back of his shirt. “Please, I’m s—so scared of losing you…”

“You’re not going to. We’ll figure this out. We will.” Becker muttered almost bitterly, the words gruff and half-swallowed as he took a deep breath in a bid to extinguish another swell of frustrated guilt. “...Christ, Freddie— I hate seeing you like this.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, then, he tightened his hold and simply sat there, feeling sick to his stomach.

 “You shouldn’t be crying over a fucking jackass like me.”

[somethingsomethingwords]

Ok so, here is another one. This is a little bit different from what I usually write or even like reading, but alas, sometimes an idea just enters your brain and just doesn't leave. Also this one has a title ig. So here it is. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy 💜

Of course I wanted you to stay

(but you didn't, no you didn't, no you didn't)

Lance was so full of adrenaline he almost dropped the mic. He was shaking from head to toe, but there was a huge grin on his face.

There was no sadness, because even if this was the last concert of the tour, it had been one of his best ones like, ever.

Also he was home, so he knew that after all the crazy partying he would do tonight, tomorrow he'd meet his sister, he'd go to that bakery that sells the best cupcakes, and he'd be able to roam the streets with his thick glasses and ugly beanie and scarf combos, and no one would recognise him.

But still, that's tomorrow. In that moment, there was the encore.

It was always different, so it was always special, but that day even more so. It was composed of three of his older songs, about pain and heartache and moving on despite the past, maybe in spite of it. He loved it very much. Because he was home, singing his first hits and he was ending one of the happiest and saddest tours of his life.

It had started great, new album, in love and energetic. Then he was left behind, alone and with nothing to show for it. Because it had to stay a secret. He had to keep his love secret. He had had no one to complain to, because the only people who knew would have been put in an uncomfortable situation, and he didn't want that. So he hid his hurt and did what he always did. He put it in his music. He sang his pain until the only hurt he could feel was the one in his throat.

It really had been a rollercoaster. But now it was the end, everything was better, and he wanted to send a last fuck you. He may have matured, but nothing would make him lose his pettiness.

So he sang.

Are you sorry like you weren't at the time?

Loving you was easy,

that's why it hurts now

The worst way to love somebody

is to watch them love somebody else

and it works out now

And sang.

Cause someone loved me,

someone fucking loved me

Someone fucking loved me,

I loved him too

Goddamn it, I was worth something,

I fuckin' earned something

I have a right to die, a right to live,

a right to choose, too. And God, no!

Of course I don't wanna feel better!

Can you fucking imagine?!

And sang.

Because, in the end,

you can see how much I loved you

from the fact that I'm fine now

It's a lie, but I say it anyhow

He put every single emotion into these songs, and finally let them go.

When the crowd roared, it all exploded.

He felt a solitary tear wet his face, but nothing could have stolen his smile. He waited for his band, then bowed and left the stage.

The night was young and he was feeling free and wild. And quite hungry, actually.

So he took his band to his favourite pub. They ate, and drank, and ate some more.

On the taxi towards his house, Lance realised that, no matter how much it had hurt, he didn't regret having what he had with Fernando.

Even the tears, even the heartbreak, they all shaped the person he was today.

He liked to think he was loyal, and dependable and kind. But most importantly, he liked to think he was better than the person he was yesterday.

His house appeared, and after paying and tipping the taxi driver, he opened the door.

Yeah, it was big and a little bit empty and a little bit cold. A little bit like his heart. But it was something to be proud of, because it was his, and he was working on it.

---

The next day he really started to rethink all of this rock star thing.

His head pounded with his heartbeat and his mouth tasted rancid.

He got up and drank some water, downing a couple of aspirins for his headache.

After the shower he felt somewhat normal, and decided to go out for breakfast.

He reached his favourite bakery and ordered two pastries to go. He wanted to retreat and lay warmly in front of the fireplace.

Lance noticed him as soon as he stepped out, but he decided to ignore him. His house wasn't that far, he could reach it quickly and without having to talk to him. For once, he wanted to thank whoever made him with long legs.

But even if he could go fast without running, so could the other.

They walked in silence, side by side, for a few minutes.

When the silence and the presence were getting to him, he abruptly stopped and turned towards the other man.

"What do you want?"

Fernando didn't deserve kindness nor gentleness. He forfeited those when he left Lance. Via text. Without explanation and blocking him immediately after.

Lance had spent too many days crying; now he wanted nothing to do with the man.

"Hello Lance. Was just around" he said, as if it explained why he was in Canada and not in England, in Monaco, hell even at home in Spain.

Lance huffed and started moving again, having had more than enough, but stopped when he felt a firm grip on his wrist.

He stared at the hand on his arm with wide eyes, before raising them to Nando's face.

"You have three seconds to either take your hand off or have it broken" he said shakily.

There must have been something in his voice that made the threat a real one, because suddenly he was free again.

"Lance, am sor..." Nando started.

"Shut up before I make you. We can't discuss here, someone could recognise you. Come to my house" surely not his finest moment, but all Lance could feel was fury. Still, he wasn't raising his voice, so he could consider it a win.

you are still protecting him, Este's voice said in his mind.

shut up, of course I am, but what else could he do?

They arrived at his house. He quickly opened the door and closed it when Fernando got in.

"You have no right to come here with your flimsy excuse and expect me to be ok with it. Now, tell me what you want and get the hell out of my house" there, simple and direct.

For a moment, Fernando seemed seriously sorry. But Lance didn't care. He was the one left behind, the one who had to pick up his pieces when he fell apart. He healed as best as he could, and he would not apologise for building up his defences.

"Lance, I am really sorry, for what's worth. I want to explain"

"You are a few months too late. At this point, I don't even know if I care. I only ever asked one thing, Alonso. One. I was ok with being kept a secret, and avoiding being seen together, and the distance. I only asked you to openly communicate and shit like that. You just left without a word" now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop.

"You knew, I told you why I wanted that. Why I needed you to be honest and open, yet you just disappeared. I had to ask Este, who had to ask Mick. And for what. To be told that you had a new model girlfriend? So no, Alonso, I don't care anymore. It would just reopen old wounds. Now go, I'm sure you have somewhere else to be"

and someone else to be with, it wasn't said but both could hear it.

"That's not right. I have nowhere to go. Am alone, Lance" he said, something hurt and teary in his voice.

Lance was about to replicate, sharp words already on the tip of his tongue, when something in Nando's expression made him stop. His eyes showed how open he was being, how vulnerable.

Lance sighed, and led the man into the living room, making him sit on the couch, while he went into the kitchen and brought back two glasses of water. He would have preferred something stronger, but this felt too important of a moment to have it tainted by alcohol and not being in the right mind.

He sat on the opposite side of the couch, and waited for the other to start talking.

"First of all, am sorry, really. I knew it would hurt you, how I left you, but I did it anyway. And I know you have no reason to believe me or care. Am here because I believe you deserve the truth about everything"

He seemed honest, but Lance wouldn't trust him so easily, not again.

"What are you hoping for with your confession months later, mh? I'm not going to obediently come back to you, waiting to be heartbroken again. You're not gonna fuck me and leave, either. So, what do you want?" he was probably being unfair to the other man, but anger and confusion had never been a good mix of emotions for him.

"Lance, I would never..."

"Like you would never leave, Alonso? Don't make promises you can't keep and don't say things you don't mean" he interrupted, harsh and stubborn.

"You are right. I made promises and then I broke them and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know I had reasons. Not perfect, not good, but I had them" and goddamnit, Lance could feel himself beginning to soften.

just listen to him, said his conscience, suspiciously sounding like Mick.

"Would you care to explain them?" Was he being sarcastic or curious? He himself didn't know.

"Of course. Someone was starting to notice some...changes in me. I was happier, nicer, smiled more. Someone I don't like said something in a way I didn't like. Made me understand that he knew something was up, and would ruin me. So I decided that I needed to protect myself, to protect you. Left you because I couldn't see you. I knew I'm not strong enough to leave you if I saw you"

It all sounded logical, from a certain point of view, but Lance knew there was more, so he waited for the other to continue.

After a few seconds, Fernando raised his eyes, looking at Lance, before turning them down again.

"I didn't like the weakness. All the time, I was thinking about you, wanted you near. It was too much. So I thought I could just stay away, and forget about it"

about you, was left unsaid.

"And can you? Forget about it?" Lance not only wanted to know. He needed to, before going on with the conversation. He could feel his hands beginning to shake and his eyes starting to water, but he had to be sure.

Fernando immediately raised his eyes, and spoke with a tone determined and something like hope in his eyes.

"Of course I can't. I'm here right now, begging for a second chance" he said pleadingly.

"Then beg" Lance said, not meanly, but he also wasn't feeling particularly charitable, and it was better to make some things clear from the beginning: he wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes. He wasn't the young man staring at his teen crush, starry eyed and in love and grateful for every scrap of attention and affection. He was older, maybe a little bit more bitter, a little bit wiser. Fernando left some marks onto his heart, and he wasn't going to refresh them for nothing less than certainty.

"Lance, please give me another chance. I know I fucked up, was so wrong. I'm begging you, let me fix this. However long it takes, is ok. Just, tell me you'll think about forgiving me, and starting again" he was being so earnest, how could Lance resist?

"Even if I forgive you, and it's a big if, I'm not going to forget anytime soon, ok? I'll need time and space and for you to make an effort" he really was weak for this man, but who could blame him, he spent half his childhood idolizing him and then he met him and fell in love.

"Will do whatever it takes. But let me, please"

Realising all the air stuck in his lungs, Lance sighed.

"Ok"

He didn't even finish the word that Fernando picked him up and spun Lance around, making him laugh despite himself.

Fernando finally put him down, and took his hand to kiss it, maintaining the eye contact for a few seconds.

Lance could feel himself blushing, and quickly shook his head, still smiling.

After a few seconds of just getting reacquainted with one another, Fernando broke the silence.

"I liked the show yesterday. Especially the encore"

And now Lance was definitely blushing. His encore had been designed as a way of finally letting go, one last screw you to the man now in front of him. But he couldn't say that to him, even if it was pretty clear.

It would have been childish to throw shades at Fernando in one of his concerts, no?

"Yeah, I was inspired, I guess" his smile smaller but still there.

"Fuck the guy who made you suffer, the bastard" and in his jokingly way, Nando was telling him that he wasn't angry, and that they would be ok.

"Yeah, fuck him"

[piccolos-bigtoe]

i love how rancid your sniper design looks, literally 10/10 design

WHAHAHHA THANK YOU here’s a kinda weird kinda spooky doodle thing of (albeit blu) Sniper I had on hand, I am not lying when I say I have literally NEVER been so obsessed over a character before. Like actually. Ofc I have liked characters, but the moment I saw him something inside my brain snapped and changed irreversibly. Like I don’t even know what happened, I knew sort of about TF2 (I knew about half-life and gmod first tho cause YouTubers and prop hunt yk) but like not really. The first time I saw him (and pretty much all the other mercs) was from some sort of meme where all the characters kept popping up shirtless while a song was playing (I’ll put it at the bottom). He’s gross. And he was the first character I’ve seen kind of actively be gross (or maybe I’m just crazy and forgot every other gross character) and I was like “omg,,, he’s literally me,,,” but also I think he made me realize I have a “type” in a way as far as characters go. previous characters I drew quite a bit were also hermits and certified gross girls (my SDV farmer, a seperate OC I have, Brian from monster prom but he’s not like SUPER hermit ig).

Also here’s the video I mentioned I physically can’t watch it again because it hurts, it hurst so bad, so much everytime, my eyeballs literally fall out my skull in horror and I die a little bit because I don’t understand what’s going on. I know above I said it was “love at first sight” but I didn’t mean from this video so now I kind of lied I’m sorry it was at second sight because I didn’t even understand what or who I was looking at.

[macethelaboratoryrat]

I hadn't realized on the previous read how incredibly uncomfortable the Marmeladov death scene is.

Because first, the man gets run over by a HORSE CARRIAGE, which is an incredibly strange thing to have happen, and it's almost comical. But like, the driver is just trying to get off the hook for severely injuring a man, and the police don't care because they also want to make sure the rich people's cab arrives on time and the man gets out of the road.

And then Rodion is Raskolnikov-ing, which is honestly kind of weird because we haven't seen this side of his character anywhere in the book, which is also kind of awkward. The way he spends money in general stresses me out as well, so the "I'll pay for everything" attitude contributes that to my interpretation of the scene.

So a bunch of (ultimately apathetic) cheerful townspeople are carrying an entire man into these people's apartment. And on one hand, there's the beef between Katerina Ivanovna and her landlady, and all of the people who enjoy listening to them fight, and there are all of these spectators, and Rodion is very pleased with himself, and it all has this light-hearted air, even though a man is dying. And even in Marmeladov's introduction, people tend to just laugh at him and make fun of him, and his character and actions are deplorable, so his death doesn't mean much to "us" as the audience. And maybe it even is kind of funny.

But then there is Katerina Ivanovna and their children. And that really turns the scene on its head for me. Because the children are in multiple stages of dress, they're practically helpless, the oldest has to take care of the younger two. Katerina Ivanovna is having smoke poured on her from the apathetic inhabitants in the other apartment, and she's working her ass off trying to maintain some semblance of nobility and her former self, even though she's very sick. People just stand there gawking at her, and at all of them.

Marmeladov's entrance in this scene interrupts a significant and fragile ritual in their lives. They can barely manage as it is, and then they have to take care of him, and the children are afraid. But once again, people are coming out to make some spectacle of this family that is hanging on by a thread and has just had the rug pulled out from under it.

Katerina Ivanovna's and Marmeladov's relationship is really something. And she's an absolute firecracker. And her pride almost dissociates the mood of the scene in my opinion.

Sonia in herself almost brings more to the "spectacle" which degrades the scene more. But then, in spite of what she's wearing and her notoriety she still has a tender moment with her dying father. (I wish I could say more about Sonia, but I'm having trouble describing her well because in Rodion's eyes she's an object of shame and pity. And I think his opinion of her is absolutely rancid and disgusting. But she's described through that lens throughout the whole book.)

I think it's because it makes the personal impersonal. What should be a personal and quiet family scene has open doors and flies on the wall. And Rodion's whole expression just feels really off. He's a stranger, and he offers them money. He feels sorry for them over something a stranger wouldn't normally know about.

yeah...

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

Continuation of an interaction between me and @phoebepheebsphibs’ AUs!

@tmntaucompetition

“I will be taking that, thank you very much!” Donnie says with a smirk and sporting a ninpo made gas mask as he gets his wallet back.

Thief Leo barely holds back gagging from the absolute rancid smell of a genius patented stink bomb.

It was so bad he was on his knees.

“While I admire your tenacity in tricking us all, papa didn’t raise a fool. Unless you count my Leo.”

“I saw him cross his fingers and take your wallet, I just thought it would be funnier if I didn’t say anything.” Leo insists.

Raph clears out the stink bomb smoke with some clones to avoid bothering the other contestants and reaches a hand out to thief Leo.

“We’re gonna let that slide this time because we’re realizin how tough other universes can be, but only one time. Got that, little man?”

Thief Leo begrudgingly nods and takes the help up.

Raph practically lifts him up places him back on his feet.

Both Mikeys arrive back to the scene after spray painting some walls they hope nobody can tie them to.

Con artist Mikey rushes over to thief Leo when he sees his red eyes and how he’s still coughing.

Raph looks over at his Mikey.

“He didn’t try anything, did he?”

Mikey shakes his head.

“He just seemed really happy to have someone new to talk to. He even helped me hold the can up when my arms started shaking.”

“What do we do with them? Just allow the roaming around and general thievery?” Donnie questions.

Mikey looks at the two of them.

“They’re not bad people. He told me how he only had Leo for a long time. We’re pretty lucky we never got separated for long.”

Leo stares for a moment as well before pulling a coin out from his fanny pack and walking closer.

“So, you guys have probably learned a thing or two already about taking stuff without anybody seeing. I think I can teach you something extra! Magic slight of hand!”

Thief Leo beams as he and his Mikey watch Leo toss around a coin before making it disappear completely.

“How did you do that without sleeves!?”

“It’s all in the redirection, alt me.” Leo pulls the coin out from con artist Mikey’s shirt collar.

His jaw drops as he grabs the coin.

“Woah! Amazing!” He quickly puts the coin his pocket.

Leo let’s that slide.

“Hey, guys, permission for a small portal?”

His brothers all nod and Leo opens it up. He reaches his arm inside, fishing around before he pulls out some unicorns.

The portal closes back up immediately after.

Leo hands the unicorns to the both of them.

“Mikey and I got way too many when we were working at Hueso’s that one time. Go grab some pizza on us.”

Thief Leo looks at him in shock.

“You’re just giving us these!? Why!? I stole your brother’s wallet!”

“Well I’m pretty sure you weren’t taking it to buy video games, though even then I think you guys deserve to be able to play some, you need it. There should be enough for two so no skipping out so Mikey can eat more.”

Thief Leo looks away like he got caught in something.

Con artist Mikey stares at his brother, then at Leo who he hugs tightly.

“Thank you!”

Leo smiles softly and pats his shoulder.

“Just don’t go fainting again anytime soon.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Also get your hands out of my fanny pack.”

“Sorry.”