#WHY DO I LIKE SAD STUFF SO MUH

[beevean]

I've been kinda following the reaction to recent IDW, Frontiers and now Prime's story stuff and after reading enough threads and comments I started wondering: is the mainstream fandom really this easily emotionally manipulated?

I mean it like, you have IDW, you got Surge being painted as this badass and a portion of fandom claiming her as the new girlboss, but suddenly one panel of her looking sad and scared and people go "o no poor babby she has the feelies 🥺". Or the Prime clip with Sonic and Tails that's making rounds right now. Apparently the pretty standard parallel/alternate universe plot of "a character meets a slightly different version of a character they are familiar with so interaction is going to be a little awkward" is enough to make some go into crying all over the keyboard mode because muh feels and muh angst.

Concepts like these sound emotional on paper and they can be executed well, of course, but like, is the bare minimum drama really enough to illicit this strong of a reaction from people these days? Or do fans just... imagine this high intensity of feelings because there are none in the actual source material and then run purely on that?

I don't know. I really don't. I've been feeling so alienated, and I don't want to think that everyone else is stupid and I'm the smart one to not fall for these obvious emotional manipulations.

It's like I'm seeing something different. I don't see Surge having a panic attack: I see her behaving in a wildly OOC way, because this behavior comes out of nowhere - since when does Surge, whose personality has been since page 1 "fuck yeah I wanna fight!", care about "being hurt"?. I don't see Sonic being horrified at the discovery about the true origins of Surge and Kit: I see an asshole who immediately brushed it aside and went to fight a traumatized girl with a grin on his face.

Do you seriously interpret this as HORROR? He doesn't care! He doesn't! What are you guys seeing?!

I've already talked about Frontiers in length. I see the game as empty. There is nothing there. I can't feel bad for Sonic if he gets better 1 minute later. I can't feel bad for Sage's death if she spent most of her time on screen being stubborn (for sensible in-game reasons, but still). I can't feel bad for Eggman being all sad because THAT IS OUT OF CHARACTER. "oh but bowser can be evil and a dad" "oh but muh humanization" it's out of character, sorry. 31 years, and Eggman not once displayed any characteristic that would lead him to feel genuine affection for anyone, let alone an AI. No, Eggman saving Sonic from lava to preserve a Chaos Emerald doesn't count as a good action of his. Sure, Eggman saving Tails from Orbot in Colors was uncharacterisically nice... but you're not going to use an example from a game written by Pontaff, the people you consider on par with the 11th plague of Egypt, as source of good writing, right? You would be consistent, right? :)

I don't even care about Prime. I really don't. It slides off my brain. Oh, Tails became edgy because Sonic wasn't there, okay, sure, there are at least a dozen fanfictions like that.

(the fact that I watched Netflixvania right before Frontiers, and I went through a similar feeling of "why can I only feel rage at this poorly written mess?", doesn't help my mood. I genuinely felt like I lost all my ability to enjoy things)

But I know what's going on with Sonic. The idea that everything from 2010 to 2019 was horrible, flat, OOC and nothing but Cringe permeated the fanbase. So now, any kind of emotional moment, no matter how shallow and try hard, gets praised to high heavens. Add a good dose of Adventure nostalgia (because muh Meta Era if the games reference the Classics, but thank you Lord Flynn for saving the franchise if the games reference the Adventure era), and there you go. (meanwhile I'm still here getting my heartstrings pulled by that one scene of Sonic realizing that he's all alone on Lost Hex and it's all his fault...)

I'm being bitter. I also realize that I'm sounding like an arrogant cock, and I don't like it. I wish I could see what everyone else is seeing. I wish I could love Surge and think of her as the best villain the franchise has to offer. I wish I could gush about how deep Frontiers is. I wish I could be interested in Prime and have something to look forward to. This is not fun. I don't feel oh so smart bitching about stuff that others like, I feel like a thief of joy and not a nice person to be around.

And yet, something as simple as hearing Maria say to Shadow "you used to run so quickly on these slopes", implying that edgy anti hero Shadow used to play on the ARK like a normal child with her best friend before tragedy struck, makes me feel more awful than anything else I've mentioned. So it's not that there is something wrong with me.

[xiv-amphis-apartments]

[Apartment] Mountain Rain Aether / Gilgamesh / Lavender Beds / Ward 23 / Lily Hills Main / Room 64 twt: link

A cozy little room overlooking a spring torrential downpour.

This room was sitting empty for like a year and it was driving me MAD. I kept being so wishy washy about what I wanted in here and finally I decided to just mess with the mountain views that I saw people doing on twitter with the nursery canopy. Mountains!! Real, big, proper mountains!!! FINALLY

I don't know really why I went with rain, other than just the inherent gradient light. The way the nursery canopies sit, you can't really have a "light" rain unless it's behind the mountains and MUH IMMERSION. The new GC trophies with the cherry blossoms were actually the perfect height to slap on the floor, and the last little bit of base was hidden with the pine bonsai. I added the ixion trophy for lighting bc i had through the fire and the flames stuck in my head while building this and i regret nothing

I really like the woodstove, though initially it was much simpler. It might be better with less stuff, but it's just a cathedral lecturn turned around, log rack, a couple iron torches, and the pipe is part of the hingan ovens. The masonwork stove stone backing wasn't originally there but I felt like the place would burn down without it. muh immersion

I wanted to use all the stupid shower stands I had in my storage, so I actually tried to make an okay ceiling (overly okay, one might say). You can see some of the rain coming through so hopefully it looks like a glass window with rain on the roof? (I cannot remember where I first saw this done, but I know Peach did it in a build a while ago!) The "wet spots" are the bane of my existence but if I squint, it kind of looks like storm clouds. There's two starry sky phasmas above it for some collision+godray action and some other ambient lighting with crystal ornamental arrays. I still feel kind of iffy on it but... I think it looks okay?

I did have to make this veeeery small as far as my apartments usually go, and there wasn't a lot of slot space left for furnishings/clutter either. So in that regard, I'm a little sad that it's so bare, but I focused a little more on architectural stuff, so that's an inevitable tradeoff. At the very least, I really liked trying out new stuff!

also green+brown god tier color palette no i am not taking criticism at this time

[plumeriafairy14]

One-Shot: “Faithful”

Whenever Lance fought with his boyfriend, Lotor, he would storm off and drive several miles south to visit his ex.

Inspired by an anonymous confession in my college's anonymous confession FB page.

A gift fic to buttplug of marmora (@taosalikod122) from Twitter

Pairings: Lancelot, Shance, a little Hunay

TW: Main character death, alcohol, toxic relationship

Fairy’s other Voltron drabbles: Pieces of the Sky

The peaceful concerto of birds was violently interrupted by the sound of dishes shattering on the floor. It was not the best way to begin the day but it was how Lance’s mornings had been starting the past year and a half.

“I keep telling you that there isn’t anyone!” Lotor yelled from across the room at Lance who stood his ground on the opposite side, his fists clenched and his breathing erratic. “I’m not cheating on you!”

“That was not your cologne, Lotor!” the other spat out in retaliation and he chucked his boyfriend’s dress shirt back at him. “And guess what? It wasn’t the one I gave you last Christmas either!”

“I bought some new cologne, so what?” Frustrated, Lotor raked his long fingers through his long platinum blonde hair that appeared almost white underneath the morning sun that flooded from the living room window.

“Did you buy new underwear too, huh?” Lance challenged and he took a bold step towards Lotor who, this time, gritted his teeth in anger. Tears streaked Lance’s face and his eyes were red and puffy from the lack of sleep he had last night. “Because the one I found in your travel bag sure wasn’t your fucking size nor do you have that brand!”

“Lance, it’s not---!”

“What’s that supposed to be? A sick souvenir of your escapades?!” Lance demanded and his voice cracked now. “You’re merrily fucking around while I sit here like an idiot duck waiting for you to come home?” Lance shook his head. “I don’t need to see your inbox, I know. Look me in the goddamn eyes and fucking tell me that I’m the only one.”

Lotor stood there, fuming, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I knew it.” Lance’s voice fell into a broken whisper. “I fucking knew it.” He paused and took a quivering breath; Lance had prepared for this and for the record, it didn’t really matter anymore and it’s been that way since the signs started popping up.

“I’ll come back for my stuff later.” Lance turned around and pushed past Lotor as he headed to the living room. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Lance, hold on!” Lotor pleaded and Lance rolled his eyes while he grabbed his keys from the ashtray beside the couch. Without looking back, Lance stormed out of the house and got into his car. When Lotor rushed out of the house and strode to his vehicle to knock on the driver’s window, Lance flipped him the middle finger then pulled out of the driveway. He didn’t even bother glancing at the rearview mirror at his dickbag of a boyfriend.

Lance swallowed the lump in his throat, ignored the vile in his mouth, blinked past the tears, and he just…drove.

The joke was actually on Lotor because whenever they fought to the point of toxic insanity, Lance always walked out to prevent the situation from getting worse and he would drive miles two cities south to see his ex-boyfriend.

But this time, Lance decided that what transpired will be the last fight he will ever have with Lotor. He couldn’t take it anymore and Lance knew that he deserved better because his ex didn’t love him unconditionally just so some shitfaced asshole can ruin him.

Unfortunately, he and Shiro never worked out but Lance still came to see him as much as he could.

Not being able to take the deafening silence of the car, Lance turned the radio on and the station was playing Katy Perry’s song, Thinking of You. Lance laughed bitterly; it fit his fucking situation so well but he didn’t say anything besides that.

Two hours of non-stop driving in the freeway, Lance took an exit to the city where Shiro was and just like always when Lance visited him, he brought flowers and a cold six pack from the local 7/11 for them to share. So Lance went to the first flower shop he found, got a small bouquet then found a store, brought the beer and in a heartbeat, he was on the road again.

When Lance arrived to his destination, he took the flowers and the beer and got out of the car. His sneakers crushed the freshly fallen autumn leaves that carpeted the ground as Lance made his way through a cobblestone path before he stepped off and walked on the spacious manicured field of Bermuda grass.

And just as always, Shiro was there, waiting for him.

“Hey, baby.” Lance smiled, his tears having dried already hours ago. “How are you?”

The black marble headstone did not give an answer but the cool breeze that blew made it clear that his greeting did not go unheard. Lance approached the grave and sat on the grass.

“Here, these are for you!” Lance said cheerfully while he laid the flowers on the base of the marble. Taking his time, he traced the tips of his fingers gently on the engraved silver letters that were a stark contrast against the black stone.

Takashi Shirogane

Sighing contently for being reunited after many long weeks, Lance pulled out a can of beer from the holder and cracked the top of the tin open.

“And I got your favorite too!” Lance placed the can beside the flowers before he opened another one for himself. “It’s actually the last on in the store; it was like it’s meant for us. Pretty cool, huh?”

Silence.

“Oh, Keith called me the other night.” Lance continued and he paused to take a drink from his beer. He closed his eyes as he savored the malty taste and the cool liquid soothed his parched throat that was scratchy from yelling at Lotor. “We went out with Pidge and Hunk to celebrate because Hunk’s finally a dad!” he chuckled. “Twins, babe. Twins. Sometimes, I think Shay is Wonder Woman in disguise.”

Still, more silence. Lance was the only one in that part of the cemetery that day which was something he was fine with because he’d be able to talk openly to Shiro as if he was there.

Well, Shiro really is there; he’s just never going to wake up again.

“I’m breaking up with Lotor. He cheated on me.” Lance pierced the silence and he placed his beer beside him. “God, what was I thinking? I’m such an idiot; I should’ve broken up with him the moment I noticed what he’s doing but I just… I don’t know, Shiro. I deserve someone better. You never treated me like that and I’m not about to let someone ruin me like this; not after all the love you’ve given me---“ his voice trailed off at the end and the sobs finally broke out.

“Fuck, Shiro, I miss you.” Lowering his head, Lance saw the image of the grass beneath him blur with the tears that fell. “I miss you, baby, I miss you so much. I’m sorry I let it get this far.”

No one was going to hold him, kiss him, make love to him, or love him the way Shiro had. And with that fact, Lance knew that Shiro would always be the missing part of him that he can never again have. Back then, Shiro had prepared him for the possibility that he might come home in a box wrapped with a flag.

And to Lance’s heartbreak, Shiro did.

“No one will ever match up to you, baby.” Lance said quietly. “But if I ever fall in love again somewhere along the way, I will make sure that they’ll be worth what you’ve made me realize about myself; that I, myself, am worth it.”

When Lance’s phone vibrated, he wiped his tears and calmed himself before he pulled out the device from his pocket to see that Pidge had sent a message asking where he was because Lotor called them and they were suspicious because his stories were inconsistent.

‘Douchebag Prince smells like a fucking liar, Lance. Did something happen? Come to my place.’

Lance ignored the text for that moment because the moment belonged to him and Shiro. The rest of the afternoon passed in comfortable silence with Lance consuming three cans of beer before leaving the other three popped open at the base of Shiro’s grave. It was just like old times with the two of them sharing everything: food, clothes, the bed, beer, laughter, sadness, smiles, tears, love…

The hardest part came when Lance knew that he had to go.

“The others are probably worried.” Lance said to Shiro. “I need to head back before Keith launches a search party for me.” He chuckled and gave a small but sad smile. “Your little brother’s doing great, babe. You don’t have to worry about him.”

Lance finally stood up and dusted himself off.

“I’m heading off now,” he said. “I’ll see you on Memorial Day, captain.” A pause and Lance felt his heart swell in the silence of the peaceful cemetery.

“I love you, Shiro.”

Those four words echoed deeply in him and he knew that a part of him will always remain faithful to Shiro just like how he would always love him. Blowing a kiss into the wind for his beloved, Lance walked off, got in the car, and drove off.

[measlyfurball13]

Saw a post that pissed me off saying essentially "why do fanworks get so much more attention than original works? Fan stuff is shitty and low effort, but even I was tempted to degrade myself just to get attention." As if creating fan work automatically nets you thousands of likes just in and of itself.

I'm brought back to 2016 Deviantart. I had just started writing. Nobody was paying attention to me. I was sending my writing out into a void even worse than the normal fan content websites because I was on the wrong site for my content. Much like OP I was heartbroken. I had the search algorithms against me, my writing still had a long way to go. So you know what I did?

I built myself an audience. I started interacting with fan artists in the fandom who weren't the godly people with thousands of likes. I paid attention to other people's works-in-progress, their drawings with amazing ideas that they could build off of, technique that was still learning to grow like mine. I liked their work, paid it a comment, and you know what? That caused them to check my own works out, and lead to them returning the favor! And with those likes, the search engine began picking me up, finally drawing in others whom I hadn't reached out to first.

But you want to know what the kicker is? My works still "only" got twelve or fifteen likes a piece. If this happened, OP would have probably still whined and kicked and pouted "but I did muh fan work!1!!! Where likes???"

It doesn't work that way. It never does. It's almost like only the most talented of the supreme echelons of artists ever get more than a smidgen of attention. It's almost like talented artists are talented artists regardless of what art they're doing. Fandoms provide an advantage only in the sense that people have a general interest in what your art contains and a tag they can search it with, but that's it.

Moreover, if you're only creating art to get attention, you're never going to be satisfied. My stuff, at its best here on tumblr, a more text-based website, for the most popular fandoms, gets about sixty likes on average and way fewer reblogs. But I cherish every single one of those. Those are enough. That's sixty whole people who read my work and liked it enough to let me know, even if they didn't always save it to read later. Think of how many people that is in real life. Regain the perspective of how fantastic that is! It's incredible, it really is.

If OP wants their original work to get attention, they need to interact with the community to build their audience, just like I had to do. How often do you think they like and reblog original art? How less often do you think they spare a comment for someone's original writing? How even less often do you think they commission someone like how they probably wish people commissioned them? I'm willing to bet hardly at all.

In the end, I just feel sad. Being motivated by attention, being jealous of the attention other people's art gets, is an awful place to be. It's toxic. Creating should be primarily for the pleasure of the creator- any outside attention should be an added bonus. If you don't like what you're creating, what's the point?

[magic-number-3]

Thirty Questions (that aren’t really questions)

Thank you so muh for tagging me @aralisj !! ❤️✨😘This was so fun!!

Name/Nickname: Ellie

Gender: cis female (but like,, cause its convenient. its really more like john mulaney’s “whos to say?”)

Star sign: Gemini (lol)

Height: 5’4”

Time: 12:24 / 6:53 (i did this halfway through and then finished days later, lol)

Birthday: June 2nd

Favorite Bands: AJR, 5SOS, OneRepublic (I’ve also recently discovered Jukebox the Ghost!! but idk much of their stuff)

Favorite Solo Artists: Hozier, Taylor Swift, Harry Styles

I feel like my music tastes are so basic lol but I usually listen to the same 5 songs anyway

Song stuck in my head: Don’t Throw Out My Legos. I’ve been listening to this song SO much lately and its one of my favorite songs, definitely fave song on Neotheater. I think its because it just really applies to where I’m at in life right now. Also Treat People With Kindness has been on repeat for me lately as well!! It just puts in me in a good headspace which is vital during the everything rn

Last film: The Nice Guys (2016) I loved it! It was such a FUN movie like it really goes for just being wild and fun with only a thin facade of realism and yet it really works. And the cinematography is just! *chef’s kiss* Glad my boyfriend talked me into watching it. 100% reccommend to every human!

Last series: The Queen’s Gambit (so good!)

When did I create this blog: 2014(?) im too lazy to figure out if theres a way to check rn lol

What do I post: uhhh idk i dont really have a ‘theme’ or whatever. You tell me!! Mostly fandom stuff (a lot of spn since the finale lol the Brainrot is bad)

Last thing I googled: “Phoebe Tonkin”. I never realized that Hayley Marshall and Cleo(H20) are the same person??? Never watched TVD/Originals tho so that’s on me. But I’ve seen gifsets and it never clicked until today!!

Other blogs: none lmao rip my followers for my bananas content!

Why I chose my url: ‘3 is a magic number’ from school house rock. Why? I am the youngest of triplets so 3 is my lucky number.

Following: 2226... i just like... dont unfollow ppl lmao and probably DO follow a new person like at least once a day

Followers: 624

Average hours of sleep: I swear my body really needs like 10 but i usually get between 4-7 😬 or like 12 if i have time to sleep in. No inbetween. Rip my sleep cycle

Lucky number: 3

Instruments: I did flute in middle/high school (and I sucked!!! But like in a Fun Way lol)

What I’m wearing: leggings and a hoodie thats my sororitys merch lol

Dream job: Film Director (which I am currently pursuing! Fingers crossed!) hopefully screenwriting as well but directing is my main focus

Dream trip: Greece!

Nationality: American

Favorite song: Love Song by Sara Bareilles has been My Song since I was like 8, so I gotta go with that one.

Last book I read: Cinder by Marissa Meyer!! Its also the only book I’ve finished in at least 4 years so go me! It was so good and Im also v proud of myself for finishing it. Got the next one for christmas and I can’t wait to read!

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in:

Okay i feel like im just copying @aralisj ‘s answers but they were so good!! And I’m really indecisive. Doctor Who. Sense8 after the happy ending not like, when sensates are being actively tracked down and murdered. Winx Club but mostly because the reboot has had that universe on my mind lately!!! And to clarify I mean the cartoon universe NOT that sad excuse for a reboot lol

I’m tagging @goldenmaknaes @izloveshorses @liamisthesun @isthisanything @blerghfish !! 😊

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 512

Looking for a way to spend Mother’s Day? Well, we here at Outlander have the perfect idea! Celebrate with the women you love by watching us gang rape grannie!

This episode is like the perfect storm of everything that is wrong with Outlander. The cast and crew saying it’s their strongest episode yet when it’s basically artsy gang rape. The CYA trigger warnings when the story would have worked perfectly well without including yet another rape. The kool aid-drinking fans yelling at and acting holier than thou at the fans who rightfully call out the massive problem this show has with rape and assault. The fans yelling at other fans because It’S iN tHe BoOk so it has to be included. The fans yelling at other fans for wanting to follow the books but not wanting rape every 0.5 seconds. The fans yelling at other fans to fuck off if they don’t like the show. The women in the cast throwing out trigger warnings while the men are radio silent or wanting the gladiators to face the plague and fight for their own amusement. It literally has everything.

And I am tired.

I’ve been in this fandom for six years and have had quite a journey. From first discovering the show and immediately devouring the books. The honeymoon period where I could headcanon out all the problematic bits. The getting deep into the fandom nonsense. The getting out of the fandom nonsense. The judging the fandom nonsense because it’s funny and they’re all idiots. The getting sick of the fandom nonsense because it’s not even fun to judge the dummies anymore. The becoming more and more aware that it’s impossible to whistle past the problems in the books and the show. The sticking around, holding out hope things might turn around and the initial magic could be recaptured. And finally, the giving up.

The books are trash. The show is trash. There are a handful of good scenes in each which can be enjoyed on their own, but as a whole, holy shit this stuff is not good. (Seriously, I tried to do a Fiery Cross reread before the season started. I started like a year ago and am still only at Jocasta’s wedding because I just don’t care enough to actually get through it.)

Which brings us here. I am tired. I have already ranted and raged and yelled and swore and wrote far too many words about the gratuitous overuse of rape in the Outlanderverse. It fucking has its own tag for fuck’s sake.

So here’s a recap. And then I think I’m done looking at this show in detail. Not because the idiot fans insist on coming to my notes to tell me to fuck off if I don’t like the show. Not because the crew are condescending douchecanoes. Not because the author is a misogynist garbage heap. But because spending an hour of my time for a few weeks out of the year to write these things isn’t worth it. I did it for as long as I did because it took so little time. So why not? But yeah, it’s not even worth that tiny commitment anymore.

And to the people who I know will @ me about how no one was forcing me to stick around and I could have quit any time, yeah, no shit captain obvious, I know that. Fuck off already. I stuck around because I really liked the little corner of the fandom that I’d found. I made some awesome friends. Most of those friends have since quit the fandom. I’m really glad to have them in my life outside of this little corner of the internet. And it was a fun writing exercise. I don’t really like the show anymore, but I enjoyed building an argument about why I don’t like it and think it’s bad that has valid points behind it. Especially considering how blindly overly adoring a bunch of the fandom is about it. But now I think I’d rather consume Outlander content as pretty people in pretty period costumes in gifsets. Or like, on in the background but not really paying close attention. Why not quit altogether? Because to quote the great Ron Swanson (I’m halfway through a Parks rewatch and I just love that show a lot ok.), I can do what I want. And besides, there’s like a fucking library’s worth of fics that I haven’t read and have been meaning to. And I like the characters enough to want to keep reading about them in stories that are better than the canon. (Bless you fic writers, blesssss.)

So. Was this whole ramble self-indulgent and overly serious for a fucking TV show? Absofuckinglutely. But please see the aforementioned Swansonism.

Alright, fuckos. Let’s do this.

This is a Roberts brainchild, isn’t it. *checks credits* Yup. Knew it. This feels very much like a Roberts special. In that he is probs quite pleased with himself but like, it’s crap.

Yes, we ARE doing ANOTHER rape story! But look! It’s a disassociation montage! It’s the ‘60s, get it?! There are callbacks! An orange from the king in season 2! A vase from season 1! A rabbit from season 3! An amber-looking dragonfly! Jamie with the young hair spouting off book lines! ApPrEcIaTe MuH aRt! We are so good at finding new and creative ways to rape our characters! Fuck off, twatwaffle. You are the worst.

Like, does Roger feel left out at this point? He’s only been hanged. Literally everyone else has either been raped, been sexually assaulted, or been threatened with rape and/or sexual assault.

“But it’s not gratuitous! Look! They’re all so different! Jamie’s was overly graphic and he got a half a season to brood about! We manged to not show much of Fergus’ (but still showed a thrust) because he’s a child and it was just a plot device for Jamie and not actually about him! Mary’s was about Fred! Claire’s with the king was about Jamie! Jamie’s with Geneva was shot like p0rn! Marsali being threatened by the sailors was to motivate Fergus! Bree’s was about the other people in the room and Roger! Claire’s really has no purpose because she’s already been kidnapped and beaten, and that is super traumatic, and we’re gonna wrap it up with a bow by the end of the episode!”

This fucking show, guys. This fucking show.

Bonus points* for the Black character spouting off the superstitious stuff.

*By bonus points I mean this show, and the books are absolute shit on matters of race. The books especially.

The cast and crew have 100% heard everyone’s thoughts on the overuse of rape in the Outlanderverse. And their response has been to include more and more of it. We had a whole season of one character’s arc being about her rape and literally as soon as that was resolved, they gang rape another character. It really does tell you as much as you need to know about them. Lazy. Fucking. Cowards.

Kidnapping not enough trauma? Let’s add some gang rape! Gang rape not enough trauma? Let’s add visualizing that your daughter and grandchild are dead! Just like Fred died! This show really brings trauma p0rn to a whole new level.

Called the Bree and Roger shit.

This scene with the men rallying to go save Claire is like another layer of fuck you. Bree, you stay home, men, give your hero lines and let’s have a getting ready montage. Because your hero moment is what this is really all about. And your manpain about killing someone. *screams into a pillow*

The petty side of me is happy that it was Fergus and Young Ian who are with Claire when they find her and not Roger. Her two sons...

Why yes, I am judging all of the fans who like get their panties all wet over Jamie being like “It is I who kills for her.” Like “yeah go ahead and rape and beat Claire within an inch of her life if it means the big strong man gets to come in and save her and say something intense.” Fuck off and go take a hard look at yourself and what that says about you.

“Was there an Indian there?” “Nope, he wouldn’t help you because LiOnEl but somehow was able to peace out when it was in his interest. Because he is as bad as the ones who actually raped you.”

The Bree and Claire hug makes me both sad and angry. I want to hug them both and take them out of this fucking place and tell them that they’ve been done dirty and deserved fucking better from the writers.

Glad Marsali gets in on the hug. Claire’s two remaining daughters.

Claire’s “I have fucking survived” speech is like the one time she she actually talks about herself not in relation to a man. It’s about her. Claire. HOWEVER! It is epically fucked up that a woman needs to check off all the trauma she’s endured to show she’s a strong character.

So. Fucked. Up.

The fact that we’re spending time on Roger’s manpain about killing someone also really tells us a lot about the show’s feelings toward women. Yeah, killing someone is a big deal. It’s normal and expected to have feelings about it. But the juxtaposition of Claire’s speech about all of her traumas with Roger being like yeah, I killed a guy who had kidnapped, beaten and raped your mom is like, read the room, bro/writers.

The fact that the men put Claire’s rapist in her surgery, her space, her place of healing, where she is able to be most herself, makes me want to punch each and every one of them in the throat. Like seriously. Fuck each and every one of them.

Also Lionel is like cartoonishly terrible. Not that nuance has ever been this show’s strong suit. But like come the fuck on.

Marsali killing Lionel is the one thing about this episode that I didn’t hate. The men are all like “We kill for Claire! Let’s all rally in this montage and go do the manly thing of defending the woman!” Marsali is just like, yeah, that’s my Ma you fucked with. She shows some agency. She doesn’t do it in a performative way for the other men or for Claire like the guys do. She just knows this fuck needs to die, knows it’s gonna be hard for her and might damn her soul (don’t worry Marsali, all that religion crap is bullshit), and does it anyway.

Marsali’s arc has been my favorite of this whole fucking series. The one bright spot I was hanging on to all of this season especially.

Her quick scene with Jamie doesn’t bother me like Roger’s does. Because Roger is like oh no, I killed a guy! Can you forgive me? For killing a rapist? Like fuck off, bro. And Marsali is like yeah, I killed a guy. I hope I’m not damned for it, but the guy needed to die so I did it.

Also like, Richard had potential to not be cartoonishly bad. But like nope. “He reaped what he sowed, but cLeArLy I’m gonna need to escalate this further. Because manly men can’t let shit go.”

Fuck all men, tbh.

*googles how to emigrate to Themyscira*

Jamie’s speech that’s like supposed to parallel Claire’s can fuck all the way off. Giving him the last voice over just underscores how this was all about men. Not Claire. But the men. Fuuuuck everything.

Look! Everything’s fine again! Back to normal! Peaceful for a bit! With a cheesy af on the nose storm coming! So you know something bad’s coming! In case you forgot!

And Jamie got a book line. So it’s all good now.

And don’t worry about Claire, y’all. She feels safe now. Her and Jamie fucked it out.

It’s amazing, in retrospect, that I ever let this story suck me in so much.

Happy Mother’s Day! See you on the other side of the hiatus.

[dolphin-enthusiast]

Can I request ”I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes…” with muh boi Joot?

Hell yeah you can and once again I apologize that this is SUPER late oof jjsfj

~~~ 

Whilst you loved that your boyfriend was hardworking and determined, you had to admit that his constant business trips were often making you feel lonely and even sad sometimes. You didn’t bring it up too much of course since you didn’t want to make it seem like you were guilt tripping him or worse, make him feel as if you were annoying or a burden. Whenever you would bring it up though he would simply sigh or just give you a sad “I know”.

Jotaro had been gone for one week now and you were already feeling as lonely as ever. On many occasions you tried preoccupying your mind in order to not overthink things too much, hence why you were currently ordering stuff around the house. On top of that you were also bored out of your mind. You were probably going to order some takeout later and maybe have another movie marathon.

Just as you were digging inside the closet in an attempt to rearrange your clothes, you suddenly stumbled across one of Jotaro’s t shirts. You quickly grabbed it in order to take a closer look at it. It was one of his plain ol’ entirely black t shirts, but you always loved all of them since they showed off his collarbone and even pectorals.

You quickly put the article of clothing on and grabbed a fistful of it then brought it to your nose and inhaled a little. It smelled just like him with a faint hint of cologne. Was this a weird thing to do? Maybe. But you didn’t care in the slightest since it brought you comfort and security.

After doing a little bit of cleaning you started feeling tired and decided that it would be best if you took a quick nap. It was around 3 pm and you had lots of time to waste anyway. You lazily plopped down onto the couch and closed your eyes, your boyfriend’s t shirt still on you. Just the fact that you were wearing his clothes made you feel more at ease for some reason and it actually managed to lull you to sleep fairly quickly.

What you didn’t know though was that not even one hour later Jotaro was making his way down the hallway towards the living room where you were currently sleeping. He was meaning to tell you that he was returning earlier than usual but got caught up in other things and forgot, so it looked like you were going to wake up to one hell of a surprise. 

Speaking of surprises, his eyes widened once he entered the living room and spotted you contently asleep wearing his very own t shirt. The sight made his heart melt and he almost wanted to wake you up but chose not to since the sight was simply adorable. He had one of the fondest and most softest of smiles ever on his face in that moment.

“I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes...” He whispered to himself with a light chuckle as he slowly leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. Oh how bad he couldn’t wait for you to wake up and greet him with one of your warm and welcoming hugs that he loved so much.

[s-oulpunk]

Vendetta (1/3) - Stenbrough

Summary: All Bill really wants is a shoulder to cry on.  All he really wants is for someone to tell him it’s going to be alright.  Robert has never let him down in that regard.

-

Bill hasn't been the same since his brother's disappearance, and the only man that seems to understand him is Robert "Bob" Gray. It doesn't matter that he's three times his age, Bill craves that understanding. He craves for someone to look him in the eye and tell him that everything's going to be okay. Unfortunately, there's always a price to pay, and Georgie was only the beginning.

TW: Violence, Manipulation, Non-Con, Kidnapping

Notes: This is a lot darker than my other fics, and, basically, I am so sorry.  The non-con stuff isn’t super graphic, but it is there so please be careful.

There are three parts to this fic.  I promise I will post them all, but updates will be slow.  All the chapters are really long and I’m busy with a lot of other things, so it takes me awhile to finish.

Also while this is technically a Stenbrough fanfic, their relationship isn’t the main focus of the fic.  It carries a lot of the plot but, overall, the fic is about Bill’s journey.

Read on AO3

Part One:

The Disappearance Of Georgie Denbrough:

Georgie Denbrough has been missing for half a year when Robert Gray shows up.  He just waltzes into Bill’s life, with a charming smile and sympathetic eyes that tell stories Bill can’t quite understand yet.  If Bill stares into them long enough, he thinks he can start to see pieces of some of those stories.  And they chill him to the bone.

He doesn’t know why.  He doesn’t know what exactly the stories are (and a part of him doesn’t know if he will ever want to), but Bill doesn’t need to know to feel the chill that runs down his back.

Robert Gray’s eyes are haunting.

And yet the rest of him is friendly enough, so Bill tries to not let himself worry over his eyes too much.  Instead he focuses on the warmth of Robert’s hand on his shoulder, on the way he smiles so wide it nearly splits his face in half, on the kind words he utters when Bill comes to him sobbing at odd hours of the day.

His friends don’t see it that way.

They see Robert and they see, to put it plainly, a creep who jumped at the opportunity to spend time with a bunch of fifteen year olds.  And they have no qualms about letting Bill know about their true feelings.

“You’re gonna get fucking murdered, Bill,” Eddie had said a few days after Robert’s first appearance. “You’re gonna get kidnapped and raped and then you’re gonna get murdered, is that what you want?  They’re gonna find your body in the basement of some creepy old house or, or, or deep in the woods or, like, in his bedroom.  And your skin’s gonna be all gross and decaying.  Or, fuck, what if he’s like some crazy cannibal?  They’re gonna find you with chunks of flesh missing and an eyeball in a martini glass and he’ll be making some kind of crazy, fucked up, dinner using your insides - Fuck, Bill!  Is that what you want?”

Bill thinks Eddie has quite the imagination.

All Bill really wants is a shoulder to cry on.  All he really wants is for someone to tell him it’s going to be alright.  Robert has never let him down in that regard.

“He’s a guh-good guy,” Bill had told Eddie. “You jj-juh-just have to give him a chance.”

Eddie had merely scoffed and told Bill he would never, ever let Robert Gray get close enough to do that.

Bill thinks that’s a tad bit unfair, but Eddie refuses to budge.

Sometimes, when Bill looks into Robert’s eyes, he can see why.  But those moments are fleeting.  They’re only a few seconds of gut twisting, vomit inducing anxiety before he remembers who he’s talking to and he’s overrun with unshakeable guilt.

In the weeks since, his friends still haven’t come around.  But they will eventually, Bill’s sure of it.

As of currently, they’re crowded into the clubhouse.  Richie and Eddie are curled up together in the hammock, lost in their own little world.  Bev is smoking by the open trapdoor.  Ben and Mike have combined efforts to put various posters and photos on the walls.  And Bill is sitting in the far corner, softly murmuring his latest story and trying very hard not to think about the fact that Stan is sitting so close he might as well be on his lap.

Stan doesn’t say a word throughout the story.  Instead he listens attentively, like Bill’s thoughts are worth paying attention to.  It makes Bill’s heart melt just a little bit.

When he finishes, he puts the notebook down gently, and turns to stare curiously at Stan. “So?”

“I didn’t like the ending,” is all Stan says.

“That’s ww-wh-what you said about my last one!” Bill exclaims.

“It’s too sad,” Stan says. “Sean never gets to go back home.  All his friends and family are looking for him, and he’s stuck trapped in his own head forever.”

“Robert luh-luh-liked it.”

Stan scoffs loudly. “Do I look like Robert to you?”

This, admittedly, does earn a chuckle from Bill.

“Just because it’s ss-suh-sad doesn’t mean that it’s not good.”

“But Sean deserves to be happy, don’t you think?”

Bill considers this for a moment.  Then, “Nope!” he says, popping the P.

“Why not?” Stan asks, lurching backwards to stare at him incredulously.

“Because I mmm-muh-made him,” Bill says. “And, therefore, I can dd-do whatever I want with him.”

Stan hums softly because, technically, this is true, but, “Why don’t you use your power for good?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“That rr-ruh-rarely happens in real life,” Bill murmurs.

It’s so much sadder than their previous conversation, and much more serious.  Bill almost feels bad saying it.  But it’s true.  People are rarely happy in real life, and if there is someone in the sky looking out for them, they sure as hell aren’t changing their ending to please their friend.  Even if said friend is cute as a button.

“I guess so,” whispers Stan. “But don’t you wish it did?”

“Yeah.” Bill does.  All the time. “Sometimes.”

Stan shuffles closer, tucking his head between Bill’s shoulder and neck.  Bill tries to ignore the heat that sprouts there, spilling through his veins and out to the rest of his body, making him tingly all over.  But he can’t.  As soon as it gets his attention, he’s gone.  The clubhouse disappears, replaced by Stan and the warmth that fills his veins.

“I think you’re gonna be alright,” Stan says. “Whoever’s writing your ending is looking out for you.”

Bill fiddles nervously with the corner of his notebook. “Robert thinks we mmm-muh-might still be able to find jj-juh-juh-Georgie.”

“I...Yeah.  Maybe.”

Stan looks so defeated.  Like he knows Bill won’t listen to whatever he has to say.  Which, in all honesty, he probably wouldn’t.  But that doesn’t make Bill feel any less guilty.

“Are you still looking for him?” Stan asks.  But he knows the answer.

“Yeah,” Bill says. “Robert usually huh-helps me.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Mhm.  We’re supposed to go ll-luh-look down by the barrens later today.”

“Oh.”

Bill can feel Stan stiffen beside him.  He’s got his legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped securely around his knees, and Bill’s sure that, if he were wearing shorts, his fingernails would be digging into his skin, judging by how tightly he’s gripping his knees.

“Robert?” The intrusion, while Bill loves all his friends, is unwelcomed.  These moments with Stan feel intimate.  Special.  Richie doesn’t get to interrupt just because he overhears something he doesn’t like. “You’re still talking to that freak?” He’s swinging slowly in the hammock, a worn out comic in one hand, Eddie wrapped securely in the other.  But he’s not paying attention to either.  Instead he’s got his gaze fixed on Bill, his glasses making his infuriated eyes seem 12x bigger.

Bill rolls his eyes. “He’s not that bad, Rich.”

“Not that bad?” Richie says. “Eds, did you hear that?  Robert’s not that bad!  Not at all!  We better shout this from the rooftops.  Hey, Losers!  Robert’s not that bad!”

“Sh-Sh-Shut up, Richie,” Bill groans.

“We’re just worried,” Bev says.  She flicks some of the cigarette ash onto the ground. “You can’t blame us for that.”

It’s true, he can’t, but, “Yuh-You don’t have anything to be worried about.”

Bev hums softly.  She clearly doesn’t believe him.  It infuriates Bill a little bit, but he wills those emotions away.  These are his friends, of course they would be worried.

Stan must sense another quarrell coming on, he’s got a fifth sense for that kind of stuff, because he gently taps Bill’s knee and murmurs, “Write me another story.”

And who is Bill to argue?

-

Bill doesn’t like the barrens.  He had been so hopeful when he first started searching here, so sure he would find clues.  Subconsciously he had hoped he would find Georgie just sitting there, patiently waiting for his big brother to find him.

But he never did.

And now the barrens represent that failure, that loss.  He doesn't know if he’ll ever be able to step foot in them again without remembering the brother who didn’t come home.  And yet he’s still down here constantly, still searching for possible clues.  He still never finds any.

“This is useless,” Bill hisses. “Hh-huh-he’s not down here.  He’s not-” He sniffs harshly.  He can already feel the tears stinging at his eyes. “This is sss-stuh-stupid.  Dad’s ruh-ruh-right, he’s-” Bill grits his teeth.  He can’t afford to think like that. “We need to look somewhere else.  If he ww-wuh-was here, he’s not anymore.”

Robert glances at him curiously. “Where do you want to look?”

“I-” Bill doesn’t have an answer.  Because he’s looked, quite literally, everywhere.  He’s searched every inch of this god forsaken town, then searched it again, and again, and again.  There’s nowhere else to look. “Maybe he got ll-luh-lost.  In the woods.  Maybe we jj-juh-just have to look harder.”

It’s pathetic, really.

On some level, Bill knows Georgie isn’t in the woods.  He knows he isn’t anywhere.  No seven year old can survive for half a year on their own.  And yet he can’t admit it, even to himself.

“We’ve checked the woods, kid,” Robert says with a heavy sigh.

“But - But -” Oh, nononono, Robert’s giving up on him too.  The one person who didn’t judge him, and now he thinks he’s gone crazy as well.  Not that Bill can really blame him.  Sometimes he wonders about his own sanity. “We haven’t looked that dd-deep.” Bill knows he sounds desperate, but he can’t stop it. “Maybe - Maybe we’ll ff-fuh-find something.” Before Robert can respond, because Bill knows that look in his eye, knows he won’t be getting the answer he wants, he hurriedly adds, “I can do something for you.”

That catches Robert’s attention.  It always does.

He hesitates, and for a moment Bill worries his answer isn’t going to change.  But then he says, “Alright, get in the truck,” and Bill doesn’t think he’s heard a better suggestion in all of his life.

He practically runs to the truck.  Not that it matters.  He still has to wait for Robert to open it, because he has, like, a million locks on the damned thing.

Robert unlocks it with a chuckle, like Bill’s a child who just asked the sugariest cereal at the grocery store.

“Okay,” Bill says, as soon as they’re both seated. “I think we sh-sh-should check past the town limits.  We huh-haven’t looked-”

“Bill.” Robert chuckles again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Bill’s heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. “Nn-Nuh-Now?”

Robert looks at him pointedly. “There won’t be time afterwards.”

Which, Bill supposes is true.  Once he starts looking, he doesn’t stop until he can’t see two feet in front of him.  Even then, oftentimes he has to be dragged away.

But he hates this part.  It makes him feel weird, like there’s dirt trapped under his skin that he can’t dig out.  Being able to wait a few more hours would be nice.  Nevertheless, a deal’s a deal.

“Alright,” he murmurs. “Yuh-Yeah, okay.  Just-” Maneuvering himself into the right position is, admittedly, harder than it looks.  The truck is cramped and by the time Bill manages to find a semi-comfortable position, Robert’s already growing impatient.

Bill’s barely managed to get Robert’s belt open before calloused fingers are grasping at his hair, pushing him down, down, down until air has become a precious resource.  Luckily, Bill doesn’t have to do too much work this time.  This happens sometimes, if Robert gets too rowdy too fast.  He’ll take control of Bill’s actions, ignoring if he gags or if his face turns purple, forcing him to go as fast or as slow as he wants.

As much as Bill hates having to work hard at something that is, admittedly, disgusting - not that he’d ever dare say that to Robert’s face - having Robert control him is always so much worse.  Bill’s sure Robert wouldn’t ever hurt him, but it’s clear in moments like these who has the control.  If something went wrong, Bill wouldn’t be able to get away.  He can’t move an inch.

But he shouldn’t be worrying about that.  Because nothing’s going to go wrong.  Besides, Robert’s doing so much for him, this is the least he could do.

It seems to take forever before Robert’s finished.  But once he is, Bill jumps back, cheeks still puffed wide like a hamster.  This is the worst part, he thinks.  And the longer he waits, the worse it is, but he can’t get himself to take that last fucking step.

“Good?” Robert purrs.  Bill nods, even though he wishes the ground would swallow him whole, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do? “You look so pretty like this.” Bill wants to cry.  Which is a stupid fucking reaction.  Who cries after - after - after that? “C’mon.” Robert’s got a hand on his cheek, thumb gently brushing the bone. “I know you can do it.” And, God, Bill just wants him to stop talking.  So he does it.  He swallows as quickly as he can, fighting his instinct to gag it all back up. “Good boy.”

Bill turns quickly, forcing Robert’s hand to slip off his face. “Can ww-wuh-we go nuh-now?” he asks.  He stares straight ahead as Robert starts the car.  It doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t mean anything.  He’s still fine.  He’s still good.  He’s still redeemable.

-

The next day, things are not better.

They didn’t find anything relating to Georgie, the Losers still think Robert’s a creep, and, to make it all worse, Bill’s throat feels like it’s on fire.

“You don’t sound too good, Billy,” Eddie says. “You might be getting sick.”

Bill hums softly.  “Mm-Maybe-” he winces at how rough his voice sounds. “-Maybe I sh-sh-should go home.”

“Just rest here,” Stan suggests. “You can stay in my bed.”

“I - I don’t wanna get you ss-suh-sick.”

Stan shrugs. “It’s fine, I can change the sheets.  I know how to do laundry.” Richie wolf whistles from across the room. “Oh, fuck off!”

“We can make you soup,” Eddie says.  He’s already gathering the ingredients, so Bill supposes there’s no point in arguing.

He drags his feet up to Stan’s room, ignoring the growing pit in his stomach.  He should just tell them the truth.  It’s not that big of a deal, right?

It’s not until he’s curled up in bed that he notices Bev standing in the doorway.

“I know you’re not sick,” she says.

“I am,” Bill insists. “Doctor E-Eddie said suh-so.”

Bev gently shuts the door behind her. “Doctor Eddie’s also never had his throat fucked before.”

Bill winces. “That’s nuh-not what happened.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she hisses. “I’m not an idiot.  You have to stop doing this.”

“I’m not doing ah-anything wrong!”

“You protected me from my dad, you think I’m not gonna do the same for you?”

“It’s not th-th-the same.  Wuh-We’re just friends, Bevvy.”

“He is not your friend, William.” Bev regards him warily. “I won’t tell the others.  But I think you should really think about your so-called friendship with Robert.” Bev turns to re-open the door.  At the last minute, she turns back to face Bill. “Stan wants to know if you’re staying over.  Ya know, parents out of town.  Losers sleepover.”

Bill nods. “Pp-Pruh-Probably.”

Bev smiles softly. “Cool.  And think about it, Bill.  Alright?  We really do want to help.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Bill alone with his thoughts.

The worst part of the conversation is that Bill remembers having the same talk with Bev a little less than a year ago.  Their places had been reversed then.  Bill had dragged her away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Losers and begged and begged until she broke.  She told him everything that night.  And he held her through all of it, clutching her to his chest as Beverly Marsh, perhaps the strongest of them all, sobbed into his shoulder.

The memory is still raw, and not one he’s willing to share with anyone.  She told the rest of the Losers the next day, but that night had been something private.  Something that wasn’t meant to be shared.

It had been one of the most terrifying nights of Bill’s life.  Second only to realizing Georgie wasn’t coming home.

The thought almost makes him chase after her, almost makes him tell her everything.

Except it’s not the same.  Because nothing’s wrong.

Robert’s not his father.  Robert’s his friend.  He holds him when he cries, and listens to him when he needs to talk about Georgie again and again and again, and takes him wherever he wants to look for his baby brother, even if he knows they won’t find anything.

He’s sure if he explained that, she would understand.  He didn’t understand either at first.  But, “It’s just like a trade,” Robert had told him. “Remember how I drove you to town limits?  I even bought you lunch afterwards.  I do so much for you.”  Which, admittedly, is true.

It’s not like Robert’s holding him down or ripping his clothes off.  Bill goes willingly, even if he cries afterwards sometimes.  But Robert says that’s normal.

“Knock, knock.” Stan’s standing in the doorway now, a piping hot bowl of chicken noodle soup in his hands. “Eddie’s insistent that this will cure you.”

“Mmm.  Doctor’s oh-orders,” Bill says, making grabby hands at the bowl.

“Doctor’s orders,” Stan repeats, a fond smile on his face.

He closes the door gingerly behind him before crossing to sit on the edge of the bed, soup balanced carefully on his lap.

Bill looks forward to these moments with Stan.  These quiet, intimate moments where it feels like anything is possible.  It’s these moments that make him think maybe this godforsaken town is wrong, and the way he feels about his friend is okay.  It’s these moments that make him think maybe Stan feels it too.

“Are you gg-guh-gonna spoon feed me soup?” Bill asks as he fumbles to sit upright.

Stan just shrugs. “I mean, you’re sick.”

Bill nods gravely. “Deathly ill.”

That makes Stan crack a smile, but he quickly ducks his head in an attempt to hide it from Bill’s prying eyes.  Bill sees it though, and it warms his heart far more than the soup ever could.

“Alright,” Stan murmurs. “Open wide.”

The soup, to put it lightly, is not good.

Out of all the Losers, Mike and Ben are probably the best cooks.  But judging by how anal retentive Eddie is, Bill has no doubt that he refused their help.  He can practically see him, in his head, shooing away his friends as Ben desperately tries to salt the slowly warming broth.

He doesn’t say a word, but Stan must notice the way Bill’s face contorts as he tries to force the soup down because he murmurs a quiet, “Sorry.  Eddie thought adding anything else would take away from its quote unquote healing properties.”

Stan’s always been able to read him like a book.  All the Losers are close, but something’s special about his friendship with Stan.  Bill’s never had to say a word for him to know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Ff-Fuh-Figures,” Bill says.

“He just worries about you,” Stan says.

“He sh-shouldn’t have to. That’s not his jj-juh-job.”

Stan shrugs. “You would do the same for him.”

Bill doesn’t answer, because he knows it’s true.

-

At around 1 in the morning, Bill decides he can’t stay over any longer.

He’s got the bed to himself, on account of him being “sick,” but the rest of the Losers are spread unceremoniously across the floor.  He has to tiptoe over their sleeping bodies, nearly tripping over Mike’s legs, to get to the door.  And, of course, Richie and Eddie are cuddled up directly against it.  He nudges them away with the top of his foot until there’s enough distance for him to slip out, which he does as quickly as possible.

He grabs the phone in the kitchen, which he’s sure is far enough away that it won’t wake the others, and quickly punches in the numbers swimming through his head.

The phone rings once, twice, three times.  Enough that he thinks maybe he won’t pick up.  But right as he’s about to hang up, a quiet voice rumbles through his ear, “Hello?”

“Robert!” he chirps.

“Billy?  What the hell are you doing up at this hour?”

Bill gnaws nervously on his lower lip.  Of course Robert’s asleep, he should’ve remembered that tiny detail.

“Sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t huh-have woken you.”

“It’s alright, kid,” Robert says. “I’m up now.  What do you need?”

“Can you pick me up?” Bill asks, before he can talk himself out of it.

“Sure,” Robert says through a yawn. “You at your house?”

“I’m at mm-muh-my friend’s house,” Bill says. “Hang on, I’ll guh-get you the address.”

Once he’s sure Robert’s going to come, he sets about writing a note for the Losers.  He knows there’s pen and paper back in Stan’s room, but it’s too risky going back there, so he settles for digging through the office until he finds what he needs.

He’s halfway through said note when a soft noise startles him.  He whips around, half expecting to come face to face with a knife-wielding murderer.  But it’s just Stan.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

He’s blinking sleepily, obviously barely staying awake, and his hair is sticking up in all directions.  His pajamas are a little too big on him, which is a sudden change from the Stanley that refuses to wear anything unless it fits just right.  It’s suddenly too difficult to not imagine Stan in one of Bill’s oversized flannels.

It’s all so overwhelming that Bill nearly forgets to respond.

“What’s that?” Stan asks again, gesturing weakly to the pen in Bill’s hand.

“I - Uh - I’m guh-gonna go,” Bill says. “I just - I dd-duh-didn’t want you to freak out in the morning.”

Stan cocks his head curiously, and it’s so cute that Bill nearly calls Robert to tell him he’s changed his mind. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Bill murmurs. “I’m ss-sorry.  I don’t wanna get you guys sick.”

A more honest man would have told Stan that he’s terrified of facing Bev’s wrath again tomorrow.  But Bill never claimed to be an honest man.

“Is your dad picking you up?” Stan asks.

“I - Um - I called Robert.”

That makes Stan pause. “You gave Robert my address?”

“How else is he gonna puh-pick me up?” It’s a lame argument, but it’s all Bill’s got.

Stan seems to be at a loss for words too, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “But - But - Why - I don’t want-”

“It’s ff-fuh-fine, Stan,” Bill assures him. “He’s not even gonna come inside.”

“I don’t know if that defines fine,” Stan grumbles.

Robert pulls up less than a minute later.

Bill scrambles to give Stan a hug before rushing outside to meet him.  The summer air keeps most of the cold at bay, but it’s still fairly chilly, so Bill throws himself into the car as quickly as he can.

“Th-Thanks,” Bill says.

“Don’t mention it,” Robert says.  He sounds much more awake now than over the phone. “You alright?”

“Mhm,” Bill says. “Jj-Juh-Just had to get out of there.” It’s then that Bill realizes the street they’re on doesn’t go to his house. “Wh-Where are we going?”

“Back to my place,” Robert says. “Figured we might as well just rest there.  That alright?”

Bill figures that sounds reasonable enough. “Yeah.  Th-That’s alright.”

In all honesty, it is fine.  What’s Bill gonna do at home?  Sit and stare at his ceiling all night and then not talk to his parents the next morning because they don’t care what happens to him?  Sounds fun, but he’ll have to pass.

Bill’s never been to Robert’s apartment before.  It’s smaller than he expected, but nice nonetheless.  It has a cute little kitchen, a big, comfy couch directly across from an old TV, and huge, open windows.  It’s normal.  Almost overwhelmingly normal.

Bill almost wants to call his friends and tell them as much. “He’s not a psychopath,” he would say. “What kind of psychopath lives in a normal apartment?”

Psychopaths live in old, run down, abandoned houses in the middle of nowhere.  Friendly people who are absolutely nothing like Beverly’s father live in normal apartments.

“You have a nuh-nice apartment,” Bill says, politely.

Robert chuckles lowly. “Thank you.”

Then a hand is being placed on the small of Bill’s back and he’s being pushed farther and farther into the apartment until he collapses into the big, comfy couch.  Robert sits next to him, a single casual hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bill shrugs. “It’s not a bb-big deal.  They just...They don’t understand.  Ss-Suh-Sometimes it’s hard to be around them.”

It’s not completely true.  They’ve lost people before.  Eddie lost his father.  Mike lost his parents.  Stan lost his grandmother just a month or two ago.

But it’s not the same.  Because none of them were responsible for that loss.

Robert nods and pulls Bill closer to him, tucking him against his side.

“People who haven’t been through what you have, they’ll never understand,” Robert says. “They don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that.  The bond between siblings is something special, and tearing it apart is one of the most painful things one could do.”

Bill sniffles quietly and shuffles closer to Robert’s side, burying his face in his shoulder. “I muh-muh-miss hh-him.”

“I know,” Robert coos.  A gentle hand cards through Bill’s hair. “I know you do.”

“Duh-Does it even get easier?” Bill asks, voice muffled through the fabric of Robert’s T-Shirt.

Robert sighs heavily. “I’m gonna be honest with you kid, not really.” He chuckles softly at the whine Bill lets out. “I know, I know.  But you learn to live with it.  I miss my brother every day, it’s just a part of my life now.”

Bill twists around to stare up at Robert with wide, starry eyes. “Wh-What was your brother like?”

“Maturin was the sweetest soul I’ve ever known.  He always put others before himself, always made sure everyone else was happy.  He would give up everything if it just meant I would crack a smile.” He offers Bill perhaps the saddest smile he’s ever seen. “The best of us are truly the ones we lose too soon.”

Bill nods mutely.  Georgie was truly the best of the Denbrough family.  He was always willing to help out however he could, even as young as he was, and was always happiest whenever everyone else was happy.  It almost pains Bill to hear someone else described as the “sweetest soul.”

“I’m - I might guh-go to bed,” Bill mutters. “I’m - I’m pp-pruh-pretty tired.”

“Great idea,” Robert says.  As if on cue, he lets out a loud yawn.

“Do you huh-have some blankets I could borrow?”

“Yeah, sure,” Robert says.  He makes a show of walking towards the linen cabinet before stopping and turning back towards Bill. “Ya know, why don’t you just sleep in my bed tonight.”

Bev’s words ring out through Bill’s head.  He forces himself to keep eye contact. “Why?”

Robert shrugs. “I’m tired, you’re tired, and it’ll take awhile to make up the couch.  The bed’s big enough” When Bill still hesitates, he sighs heavily. “Billy, have I ever hurt you before?” Bill shakes his head. “Then what’s the big deal?”

Bill pauses for only a split-second.

“No big deal.”

He follows Robert into the bedroom.

-

The next time Bill sees Stan, it’s just the two of them.

They’re lounging on Bill’s bed, Bill furiously scribbling into a notebook as Stan watches over the top of his book.  It’s peaceful, just being with Stan like this.  Something as simple as his presence has always done wonders for Bill’s nerves.

“What are you writing?” Stan asks.

“Re-writing th-the ending,” Bill says.  His voice is slow and distracted, but Stan doesn’t seem to mind.  He puts down his current book and shuffles closer, peering curiously over Bill’s shoulder.

“The one you let me read at the clubhouse?”

“Mhm.”

Stan lets out a little huff. “How are you torturing poor Sean now?”

Bill finally tears his gaze away from the notebook, instead fixing Stan with an affronted stare.

“I’m nuh-not torturing him!” he insists. “I’m trying to write a hh-happier ending.”

Bill doesn’t know why, but it’s embarrassing to admit.  He feels like he’s just revealed some deep, dark secret.  But Stan’s smiling, grinning almost infectiously wide, so Bill can’t be too hard on himself.�� He’s always liked making Stan smile.

“Really?”

He sounds so excited.  Bill thinks it’s kind of dumb.  He’s half tempted to remind him that, hey, Sean isn’t actually real.  He’s just a clump of words on a piece of paper.  But Stan looks so unbelievably happy, Bill can’t possibly take that away from him.

“Jj-Juh-Just for you,” Bill says.

It makes Stan smile softly, like he can’t really believe it. “For me?” Bill nods. “I wrote it ff-for you, I can’t give it an eh-ending you don’t like.”

Stan scrunches up his nose, a key sign that he’s deep in thought.  It’s cute, and it kind of makes Bill want to kiss him.

“I want Sean to kiss Suzie,” he says finally.

Bill groans loudly. “That’s so mm-muh-much extra work!  Now I have to ah-add in a whole romance-”

“What about Jacob?” Stan says the words so quickly that Bill’s almost positive he’d imagined them.  But Stan is red-faced and rigid, and that’s all it takes for Bill to know that the words he heard were very much real. “Would that - Would that be okay?”

Bill blinks slowly.  Would that be okay?  He thinks so.  But how would he explain that to his mother if, God forbid, she ever stumbled upon this story?

“Bill?” Stan sounds so small, and when Bill snaps out of his thoughts he can see a sense of terror in Stan’s eyes that he’s never seen before.

“Yeah,” Bill murmurs. “Yeah, that’d be okay.”

Stan doesn’t say anything as Bill continues to write, but he watches him like a hawk.  It’s like he’s afraid Bill will change his mind the moment he turns his back.  Like he’s scared Bill will retaliate, and that it won’t be unlike the insults Bowers and his goons usually throw at him.  The fact that Stan even thinks that makes Bill hot with shame.

“Sean’s buh-better with Jacob, anyway,” he says, just to quell Stan’s worries.

Stan still doesn’t answer, but he does shuffle a bit closer.

By the time Bill finishes the story, Stan looks like he’s ready to implode.  It’s about five pages longer than it was originally supposed to be, he still needed to add basically a whole other storyline to make the romance work, but Stan still reads it diligently.

“It’s cute,” he says softly, once he’s finished.

“You like it?”

Stan nods. “Better than the old ending.”

That makes Bill beam, because all he ever really wants is Stan’s approval.

“Look,” Stan murmurs, setting the notebook down gently beside him.  He handles it with care, like it’s something worth worrying about. “I’m really sorry I made you do that.  I didn’t - I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I ww-wuh-wasn’t uncomfortable!” Bill insists. “It was a guh-good idea, it was cute!  I jj-just didn’t know-”

“I’m gay.” And Bill has so many things to say, so many questions, but Stan barrels on before he can get even one of them out. “You probably figured that out, though.  Fuck - I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean - I didn't mean to make things weird.  Really.  Can we just pretend like this never happened?  I’m - I’m sorry.  You can write the Suzie ending.  You can just - just burn that one I guess.  Fuck.  I’m sorry-”

Bill grabs him by the front of his perfectly ironed polo and pulls him closer, closer, closer until their mouths are clashing together.  It’s everything Bill’s been dreaming of.  His lips are soft, softer than Bill could have even imagined, and it fills every dark, broken, crevice that haunts Bill’s heart with a warm, sunshiny feeling.

Bill pulls away to find Stan wide-eyed and pink-faced.  He desperately wants to know what Stan’s thinking, but he’s shocked into a silence that speaks one too many volumes.

“Ss-Suh-Sorry,” Bill mutters.  He forces his hands to unclench from around Stan’s shirt.  The material is still wrinkled, but Bill figures that’s the least of their worries at the moment.  Because, fuck, Stan didn’t mean him. “I sh-shouldn’t have assumed.”

“I mean,” Stan’s fingers lift up to ghost over his lips, “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

Bill’s heart stutters in his chest. “Wh-What’s that muh-mean?”

Stan shakes his head, like he isn’t really sure himself. “You could’ve asked.”

Bill swallows the lump in his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

Rather than answering, Stan lurches forward and presses their lips together in a bruising kiss.  And, fuck, this is even better.  Stan’s got one hand in his hair, the other gripping his shoulder like he’s steadying himself.  The way his lips move against Bill’s leave him lightheaded, and he has to grip Stan’s hips to remind himself that he isn’t, in fact, dreaming.

“Huh-Holy shit,” he says, the words muffled by Stan’s lips.

“Shut up, shut up,” Stan chants.  Bill can feel Stan’s lips fumble against his own as he speaks.  It makes him just a little bit crazy.

Bill does, in fact, shut up.  He drags his hands up to cup Stan’s face, holding his cheeks like he’s precious cargo.  The kiss slows but doesn’t stop, turning into something so sweet it makes Bill’s teeth rot.

He pulls away slowly, because it’s just about the last thing he wants to do, but his lungs are starting to ache.  Seeing Stan with puffy lips and glassy eyes is enough to convince Bill to duck back in for one last peck before pulling away for good.

“You’re beautiful,” Bill blurts out.

“Oh.”

“And I think I’m in love with you.”

“Oh!”

“I think I’ve always been in love with you.  Ever since we were kids.  Ever ss-since you waddled into my life as a cute little preschooler and demanded I use the hand sanitizer before shaking your hand.”

“You were covered in dirt,” Stan says weakly.

Bill laughs.  A real laugh, from deep in his stomach.  He hasn’t laughed like that in a long time.

He tries to go in for another kiss but Stan stops him, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

“Wait, wait,” he says. “I need to tell you something.” Bill hums softly against his palm.  Stan’s eyes wander slowly over Bill, taking him all in.  He looks flustered, but Bill doesn’t think he’s stalling.  Taking a mental picture, more like.  Bill understands.  If there’s one moment he never wants to forget, it’s this one.  Then, “I love you too.”

Bill’s spent his entire life trying to perfect the english language.  He’s spent years hunched over a notebook, writing and re-writing and writing and re-writing until he’s gotten it as close to perfect as he possibly could.  But nothing he’ll ever write will even get close to the perfect poetry that just flowed from Stan’s lips.

Bill grabs Stan’s hand between his own, leaving millions of tiny kisses along the palm.

“Please luh-let me kiss you again,” Bill practically begs. “Please, pp-please, please.”

Stan grants his wish, leaping forward to press their lips together again.

Distantly, Bill thinks this is better than breathing.  If there’s one way he wants to die, it’s suffocating with Stanley Uris’ lips against his.

-

Two days later, no one has seen Stanley in a full 24 hours.  A familiar panic has settled in Bill’s stomach.  He’s gone through every other possible scenario in his head, gone through every excuse.  But on some level he knows, Stan met the same fate as Georgie.

The Losers have spent the whole day wandering around town, hoping against hope they’ll find him somewhere.  That it’s all just one, big misunderstanding.  Bill keeps half expecting to see him around every corner, waiting for them with an eye roll and a dry joke that lets them know just know silly they were for thinking he had gone missing.  He’s never there.

They’re all uncharacteristically quiet that day.  Even Richie doesn’t say a word.  He just clings to Eddie’s hand and searches with an uncharacteristic amount of diligence.

Bill wants to fucking scream.

He wants to tell Richie it’s okay to talk, it’s okay to joke, it’s okay to be fucking normal.  Because nothing’s wrong.  Stan’s fine and he’s going to be back any minute.

But, at the end of the day, Bill still finds himself in front of Robert’s door with enough tears to fill the Derry city pool streaming down his face.

“Huh-He’s guh-guh-gone,” Bill sobs.

Robert ushers him inside without another word.  He lets Bill bundle up in his bed, pulling the covers up his chin and burying his face in the pillows.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognizes some form of guilt for letting Robert’s pillows get so wet, but that’s the least of his worries at the moment.

“Billy.” Robert kneels by the edge of the bed.  Through blurry eyes, Bill can see his eyebrows furrow in concern. “What happened?” Bill shakes his head.  He can’t.  He can’t say it.  Saying it makes it too real. “C’mon, you can do it.  I know you can.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

“St-Stanley.  He - He’s-” Bill doesn’t get to finish before a fresh wave of tears wash over him.  Fuck.  Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Robert scoops him up in his arms, cuddling him close to his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re going to be okay.  I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

And Bill can do nothing but believe him.

-

Bill wakes up about an hour later to Robert gently mouthing at his neck, his hand gripping Bill’s hip hard enough to leave bruises.  Bill grumbles softly and tries to roll away, but Robert tugs him back.  He moves the hand on his hip to wrap tightly around Bill’s waist, effectively pinning him against him.

“‘M tt-tired,” Bill whines, voice still sore from crying.

“Had a dream,” Robert mumbles.  His breath against his neck makes Bill’s skin prickle, but not in the same way Stan’s lips had. “A good dream.  Need your help.”

“Ruh-Robert,” Bill huffs.

Not now, he wants to say.  Not after he just got his heart stolen from his body.

“I’ll help you look for Stanley tomorrow,” Robert says.  He’s moved on to mouthing at Bill’s jaw. “I always help you.”

Bill’s resolve crumbles.  How is he supposed to argue with that? “Ff-Fine.”

He reaches down for Robert’s belt, but Robert catches his wrist in one, big hand and pins it above his head.  It has Bill’s heart pounding in his ears and ice filling his veins.

“I have a better idea.”

Bill squirms, hoping it’ll convince Robert to let him go, but all it does is egg him on.  He squeezes his wrists tighter, until Bill has to grit his teeth to stop himself from flinching.

“I’ve nuh-never - Wuh-We’ve never-”

“We can look all day tomorrow.”

“I - I don’t know.”

Robert sighs heavily. “A man will only be so satisfied with blow jobs, Billy.”

And, God, Bill just wants to go home.  He hasn’t wanted to go there in so long but right now it’s the only place he can think of.  He wants to fucking go home.  He wants his mom to hold him and tell him he’s going to be alright.  He wants his dad to hug him tight and promise to keep him safe.

He just wants to be okay.

“All day?” he asks weakly.

Robert nods. “All day.”

“Oh-Okay.”

-

The first thing Stan notices when he wakes up is that he’s cold.

The second thing is that it’s dark.  Too dark to see anything.

The third is that he can’t fucking move.

His hands are behind his back, rope biting into his wrists.  His legs are curled underneath him.  He doesn’t think he could stand if he wanted to (which he does, he really, really does) but his ankles are tied together anyway.  And his back aches from being hunched over for God knows how long.  He tries to sit up straight, but something yanks him back down.

And then he stays there like that for what feels like at least a thousand years.

When a door is finally opened, it’s almost too much to bare.  The light is dim, barely there, but Stan still has to squint to get used to it.

And in the doorway is a man.  A very familiar man, in fact.  A man who knows his exact address after picking up his dumbass friend at 1 in the morning.

“Good morning,” says Robert.

He’s grinning wildly and Stan wants to fucking cry.  He wants to sob until his lungs give out, and then he wants to cry some more.

He can feel the beginning of pinprick tears forming behind his eyes, and he bites the inside of his cheek harshly to stop them from spilling out.  He may be a coward but he’ll be damned if he lets Robert know that.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Robert says cheerily.

Stan doesn’t answer.  He’s too focused on other things, like not crying in front of a psycho kidnapper.

“Awe, Stanny, that’s not very polite.”

He crosses the last few steps to ruffle Stan’s hair and Stan fucking breaks.  A sob wrenches its way out of his throat, making his shoulders shake and eyes burn.  Tears dribble pathetically down his cheeks, landing in tiny puddles on the floor.

“I’m suh-sorry,” Stan manages to choke out. “Wh-Wh-Whatever - Whatever I dd-duh-did.  I’m sorry.” He flinches as Robert cards his fingers through his hair, wrenching his head back when his fingers catch on the curls. “Please.”

Stan doesn’t know what he’s begging for, all he knows is that it doesn’t work.  Because Robert fucking laughs, all loud and boisterous, as if Stan’s told him one of Richie’s shitty jokes.

“Oh, Stanny,” he murmurs.  He moves to grasp Stan’s chin with one hand, squeezing his cheeks and pressing dirty nails into his skin. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had just kept your hands off of what’s mine.”

[greengay]

ray, i love how you don’t let all your haters get you down. keep doing your thing 🥳

i think it’s just like......2 people....3 at most.....

and it’s like.......i am hot and funny and talented and have an actual career and friends that they wish they did and they’re arguing on the internet and sending anons abt muh luh muh fetishizatopn (not an actual problem) and how are pee eff is a sin (again, not a real problem) and i also know that they have never actually met any gay people without internet brain rot (aka normal gay ppl)

like......actual ppl in bands Like Me and those anons don’t understand that Caring about stuff like that makes it so that the very ppl they’re trying to “protect” would dislike them irl if they ever met them 😬

imagine some sweaty pale teen eagerly going up to billie joe or gerard and being like, heh isn’t fetishizatipn THE WORST? and any of these ppl that they idolize would laugh uncomfortably and try to excuse themselves asap LOL bc i can guarantee u this is problem that 99.9% exists on the internet, and people who are Actually Successful........don’t care

like! i can see an alternate universe where i don’t get therapy and i never made friends and still lived at my mom’s house and had so little real world experience that i had to fill my time with useless discourse so my life had some sort of meaning and it makes me so sad? so......i can’t get angry, i just feel a lot of pity for them

when i was 17 i was reeeeeally deep into sherlock fandom and stupid shit meant so much to me because i was so lonely? i didn’t know i was lonely because i thought, oh i have so many fandom friends! and if i agree with them on the right issues they won’t “ex-communicate” me! but.....and this is sad, and probably a little ableist but.........online communities can’t replace real life communities. i’m still friends with all my past fandom friends, but we’ve all grown and matured and have to worry about Real Stuff!

and like........i was a camp counselor for awhile and i’m genuinely worried about the Youth™ and their dependence on technology and their ability to think for themselves..........i had this one camper who was.....mm......an “indoor kid” and i could tell she was a tumblr user and she wrote fic about me and other counselors (LOL) and i told her it was good even tho it was slightly uncomfortable cos she was being creative!! off the computer! and she was able to unplug all summer and make Real Life Friends and she slowly became more confident bc of that! and that’s only bc no phones were allowed at our camp! and most kids don’t get to unplug ever in their lives! and that’s why we have ppl with anime icons on twitter fighting over stuff that has no real world impact!!!

SORRY, I LOVE TO RANT........i’m just very fortunate that i’m getting Offline and i want everyone to be able to have an Online/Offline balance

[kob131]

https://rwdestuffs.tumblr.com/post/185752839399/carmines-design-flaws

Wow the bullshit just keeps coming today.

Okay, putting aside the very blatant oversexualization of yet another female character-

Sorry Dudeblade, I can’t hear you over all the oversexualized MEN.

All I see is gender equality considering these buckos.

and the fact that she’s clearly Latina-Coded which makes it all the more awful

You know the rules: ‘coded’ means ‘I’m projecting.’

How racist Dudeblade.

there are so many design flaws that even a guy who isn’t a design expert (like myself) can point out.

Spoiler alert: he’s bitching about practicality in a show that takes inspiration from Gurren Lagann and Blazblue.

For starters: The chain-mail. As everyone in the rwde tag has pointed out: That’s impractical in a desert setting. Even if we have to have the chain-mail, why have it only over the breasts?- How about the midriff?- The stomach is also a vulnerable point on the body, and could use added protection as well. These writers have access to google, so couldn’t they have looked up what combat wear is worn in the desert? Tunics are a thing. Those are typically made to be airy enough to let sweat out to avoid overheating. could have added some chain-mail to a tunic. Alternatively, another idea could be a combat vest. Hell, if there absolutely has to be sexualization, they could make said vest form-fitting and they wouldn’t have to overdo it.

Weiss goes into battle in high heels and fucking dance dresses.

Blake is dressed as a genderbent Seto Kaiba.

Ruby’s current design is like old fashioned bar wenches.

And Yang’s is an adventure’s outfit.

And each of these are MORE practical and LESS sexual than their Volume 1-3 designs (except Ruby) were Blake’s chest area was designed by a white top, which with the black bottom and black hair, means your eyes are drawn to the chest area. Not to mention how hard it has to be to wear something like that. Weiss wore a dress that had a red undershirt near her breasts, which with the white draws your attention there, And Yang’s-

...speaks for itself.

Seriously, this shit of impracticality to look good has been around since the very beginning. You want to bitch? Either get a time machine or a shovel.

Next up: The goggles on top of her head. Good choice. I like it. Keeps sand out of her eyes, very practical. 

That’s it? Really?

I thought you could explain stuff Dudeblade.

Next: The hair. I like redheads, and they are aesthetically pleasing. But all that sand around her can’t be good for her hair. It would easily be filled with sand (Though her semblance could make quick work of it). But that doesn’t change the fact that having that much hair in the desert would cause someone to overheat.

And long hair would make it easier to grap something and hold an opponent in place.

Yet two of main heroines have long hair.

Next: Skin tone. “Dark skin.” If that’s dark skin, then Yang’s hair is orange. This isn’t how this works. If she had a shawl or some other covering, then the skin would make sense. But from what is being seen here, she just looks like someone with a tan.

Yeah the fact that it looks like a tan comes into play later.

I’ll give props for a unique design, but this just screams “This is sexy! ADMIRE IT!” There’s no practicality in this, and I’m flat-out convinced that this was made to get your women and girls to cosplay this. Whatever perv decided this was okay to put on what can be assumed to be a woman in her early twenties at most should be fired.

This woman is FAR more sexualized (and in fact, has NUMEROUS fetishes in her design) than the one designed above.

This was designed by a WOMAN, Dudeblade. Her image of a modern day witch with power and control.

Just because it looks sexy doesn’t mean ‘muh male gaze.’ Believe or not, women like men like to look attractive as a whole.

All you basically did was bitch about practicality in a show that never gave a shit about practicality, made by a man who never thought of practicality outside of cosplay and inspired by pieces of media where practicality was the last thing in mind.

And just to prove how much of a failure you are: I’m going to break down Carmie’s design.

First off, her having a tan is not just there because she lives in the desert. It’s meant to convey her confident, sporty attitude. Similar to why Sun has a tan as well. This is because we mentally associate tanned skin with athletic ability and athletic ability with confidence due to how confident athletes are.

Red hair? Meant to denote confidence or assurance, similar to why Yang’s hair is yellow. Both convey to the audience that these people are charsmatic and confident by making them more eye drawing.

Yellow eyes? Good middle ground between the tanned skin and the bright auburn, making the overall face easy to look at.

Red scarf? Compliments her eyes and hair alongside denouting an adventerous side to her.

Blue top? A bit of cool color to make her middle part stand out along with invoking a blue jean top, usually worn by adventurous people.

White Cloak? Probablt to go with the bright metal chainmail as well as give her a bit of a badass edge.

Black tattoo? Draws attention to the hip she’s jutting out, give a fashionable asymmetry to her so it make her stand out more as well as make you notice the scabbard that’s empty, fitting with the drawn dagger,

Blaxk leggings? Basic fanservice detail, used to denote sexual confidence and assurance.

See what the design is getting at now Dudeblade? It’s not just “FAP MATERIAL!”, she’s specifically designed to look like a confident, alluring adventerer/fighter, which makes sense given how openly confident and friendly she is in the book along with Coco’s attraction to her. Yeah she does look sexy but that’s because people are attracted to confident people in general. Fuck, that’s why so many people fell for Coco because her design, voice and personality exuded a sense of fashionable confidence.

You didn’t discuss this at all. Nor how her chainmail makes her top half look cluttered nor how her red shorts just blend into her tanned skin, exasperated by her black leggings. You didn’t understand the design AT ALL.

It’s a sad day when the so called ‘RWBY fanboy’ is doing your job better than you. you Dobson clone reject.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 34

Only For A Moment Master List

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Feels, fluff, cute shit.

A/N: Muh babies. Muh reader (who I call Jude for anyone that cares). Just... I really want them to be happy. Y’all gotta know that. Like I have fucking FEELINGS for these characters. It sucks lol. 

Just a heads up. Y’all may be getting a real beefy chapter 34 next week. I know most of these have been pretty short thus far (clocking in under 2k words) but I’m having a hard time finding the right place to cut it. SO let me know: Do you like that these chapters are shorter? Do you want beefier chapters? I wanna know! 

Love y’all!!!

Tags are open!

The feeling of his lips on your palm sends shivers up your spine. You want those lips, that mouth… everywhere. But it’s far from time for that.

No matter how much you think you can’t pinpoint what may have set him off. Maybe something out on the job today? Too many people?

“Buck…” You can’t seem to form the words, not wanting to pry but your concern sits heavy in your chest.

He smiles, you’re surprised to see it reach his eyes, “The pie,” your brows knit in confusion. “I… my Ma used to make apple pie all the time… the smell just… caught me off guard is all. Lot’s of memories.” Gently he strokes your face with his right fingers, “Good memories.”

You can’t help but smile even though your heart is breaking for him, “Do… do you want some? Made fresh coffee too.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he looks down at his dirty clothes. “Let me change first.” Lowering yourself to the floor you move out of his way.

When the bathroom door closes you stare at it for a second worry eating at you. Even good memories could hurt… especially when they were linked to loss. You knew that all too well. It kills you a little that it hit him so hard.

This just solidifies a thought you had earlier in the day. He needs a phone if he doesn’t have one. If he had one you could have told him you were making a pie. It would have been passing to you but he could have mentally prepared maybe. Not to mention the less innocuous reasons to have a way to contact one another.

You’re moving the tall stack of CDs and the laptop from the table when he comes out. The white tee strains over his chest as his muscles subtly move under the fabric while he dries his hands on a small towel. Its hem skims the top of the loose jeans slung low on his hips. You swallow hard and turn back to your task.

“What’s all this?” He asks with a smile.

“Your musical education.” You set the laptop and CDs on the counter by the stove before turning to get you both pie and coffee. “Or the beginning of it.”

He laughs a little picking up the top CD, Queen’s greatest hits. “I liked whatever you had on earlier.”

“I should hope so,” you turn back to him smirking, “if not we would be having some serious problems. Queen is non-negotiable.”

“Noted. Here,” he comes over and grabs the plates with a slice each, carrying them to the table.

You follow with the coffee, “I haven’t made pie in years,” you sit across from him, “so don’t judge it too harshly.”

A half smile lifts his lips, “I have no doubt it’ll be amazing.” He reaches across the table, his fingers grazing the back of your hand wrapped around the mug, “Thank you.”

“It’s just pie,” he rolls his eyes playfully, “but you’re welcome.”

He takes a bite, eyes closing as he savors it, and you anxiously wait for feedback. When his eyes open, he catches your stare. He laughs, “Are you gonna watch me eat the whole thing?”

“Just nervous,” you grumble, shoving a bite in your own mouth, mostly for the distraction. Honestly, it’s pretty damn good.

“It’s great just like I knew it would be, and you,” he points with his fork, “are ridiculous.”

“I thought you said ‘amazing’,” you say over a mouth full.

This earns you a laugh, “It’s amazing. Better?”

You shake your head “I suppose.” 

For a bit you sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the treat. You chase a large bit of flaky crust with a gulp of coffee before asking, “Do you have a phone?”

He raises a brow, “That’s out of left field. But… No? Haven’t had a need… Why?”

“Thought it may be good for us to have some way to get in touch. Like if one of us runs late or if there’s pie waiting,” Or if the group of Nazis who tortured us for years shows up. You know you don’t have to say the last bit. It’s implied.

He nods, “Good point.” Taking another bite he looks pensive. “Phones are easy to track though.”

“Not if you set ‘em up right,” you pull yours from your back pocket. “If anyone tracks this it’ll ping them to Africa. Hacked it myself. We can do the same to yours.”

“Sounds good. Should come up with some shorthand too. Make sure we can communicate a lot of info quickly if we need to.”

“Definitely. Tomorrow?”

“I got more stuff to do on the job,” you notice his eyes avoid yours. Interesting.

“Ok, I can grab one, get it set up.” You stand to wake up the laptop, “For now though, it’s time for school.”

By 10pm you’ve made a simple meal, the whole pie is gone, and you’ve given him a thorough history lesson on why Queen is inarguably one of the best bands of the 20th century. He sees the appeal, though some songs, such as Bicycle, give him pause. Now you’ve moved on to Fleetwood. Another non-negotiable.

His head is resting on the arm of the couch, body stretched out, legs dangling off the other end. You’re on the floor, back against the couch. Gently he runs the fingers of his right-hand through the short crop of your hair as the album Fleetwood Mac plays. Rhiannon is wrapping up and you’re half a world away in your mind, spinning on a rooftop with ghosts. His voice, soft and drowsy, pulls you back to this little apartment in Romania.  

“This makes me think of you” Bucky’s fingers pause, and a smile warms his half-closed eyes before he yawns.

Your heart tightens a little. Nix would call you Rhiannon sometimes, he knew what you could do so anything witchy he’d lovingly associate with you. You aren’t at a place to divulge this though, it’s too real, too personal.

“You look tired.” He nods. You were already in a pair of leggings you’d bought earlier and a tee, perfect sleepwear. “Come to bed,” you grab his hand and gently tug him in the direction of the mattress but he doesn’t budge.

“I’m ok here,” you give him a look. He is not a small man and it is a small couch.

“You are not.”

“Really, this is fine.”

You sigh, if he didn’t want to share a bed that was fine but there’s no way you’re letting him sleep like that. If he even can. “Don’t be ridiculous. Sleep on the bed, I can take the couch, I’m shorter.”

“Y/N-” You roll your eyes, cutting him off by wrapping your power around him and lifting him just a touch. His eyes meet yours, awestruck.

“Don’t make me move you. I can,” you smirk.

“I almost want to make you,” he grins mischievously, “just to see if you really can.”

You raise an eyebrow. Without ceremony, you will him up and let him plop hard onto the mattress with a thud. It was always easier when you were doing it for fun. He looks genuinely surprised.

“How do you think I got you in my squat after knocking you out?” His head is on your pillow and you yank it from under him with your power sending it floating to the couch.

He laughs, “I didn’t think about it honestly. It’s pretty damn impressive.”

“I know,” you wink. “You gonna sleep in your jeans?”

“If I say yes are you going to threaten to strip me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He reaches up from his spot on the bed and gently rubs the back of your calf with his left hand, fingers squeezing slightly. For a second you think he is going to tempt you, your mouth practically waters at the thought, but a shadow covers his features.

“I think I can handle that,” he gives you a halfhearted smile before getting up and going to the bathroom.

Disappointment wraps around you. Picking up your copy of Frankenstein from the table you cozy yourself on the couch. You finished it earlier today but had started again, from the beginning immediately. It had been a while since words had brought you a strange sense of comfort like this.

Bucky comes out in just his boxers and you force yourself to not stare, to not want what he so clearly wasn’t offering. He walks over to you and you allow him a warm smile. Something is troubling him, you don’t want to add your worry and disappointment to his shoulders.

When he cups your upturned face in his hands your heart skips a beat. His eyes are more grey, stormy though not cold, and you can’t quite read the emotion in his face. Instead of trying to make sense you cover his hands with your own and just savor the feeling of his touch.

He leans down and you hold your breath, hungry for his lips. But they only press against your forehead tenderly. Now you can read the emotion on his face as easily as the book at your side. Sadness and disappointment.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” His smile is tight, his eyes glistening. As he pulls away it takes every ounce of strength you have to not pull him to you, to not kiss him, hold him, try to calm the sea of hurt in him.

“Sleep well, Buck.” He doesn’t say anything else, just lays down with his back to you.

You flip the light off, no longer in the mood to read, and lay down too. For a few minutes, you watch the steady rise and fall of his breathing, your mind working over everything. 

He had been distant since his flashback. Every touch extra gentle, almost every action thought out. Then, despite all the kindness he’d shown you, he seemed shocked you accepted the key to his place. It’s as if he’s just waiting for you to run screaming… You realize that’s exactly what he’s waiting for.

“Bucky,” your voice is soft, not wanting to startle or wake him if he is asleep.

“Hmm?” Drowsy but still conscious.

“I want you to know, I meant it before. I’m not afraid of you...” Silence thunders in the space. You know he heard you…

“I know,” his tone is measured. Relief floods your system for a second before he follows with, “I’m scared enough for the both of us.”

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @souless-and-sarcastic @saundrasays  @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf  @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets  @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barnes @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius  @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @piensa-bonito @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead  @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter @siriuslycloudy2

[m00nslippers]

So I watched YJ3 episodes 7-9...

Oh, so much to say, let’s just get into it.

So I was discussing with someone how I thought Prince Brion was a convenient character to get naked for fan service and how it would be tragic if they found him clothes that wouldn’t burn and, what-do-ya-know, they gave him clothes that wouldn’t burn, obvs. But on the other hand they revealed a wonderful new potential of getting Conner naked by having Brion burn his clothes. Balance in the universe is restored.

Dick’s whole act and spiel with choosing their codenames was so ridiculous, I was in stitches and just imagined Jason’s voice the whole time shouting, “YOU ARE AN ACTUAL FUCKING IDIOT, AREN’T YOU?” at him. That’s pretty much what I imagine any time Dick does something dumb on screen, tbh. It’s just a rolling litany of Jason MST3K-style shouting insults at everything Dick does or says.

Like can we stop killing Halo? It’s vaguely fetishy the amount of times they’ve done it already, it’s making me uncomfortable. I get that she’s the only one they can get gruesome with to show how edgy the show is without permanently crippling anyone, but have some decency.

Everyone was on-point with suggesting the Goode-Goggles had something to do with Granny Goodness. And this stuff about partnering with the Wayne foundation to get her goggles in meta-youth centers? She’s so planning to mind control the meta-kids.

Helga and Jefferson hooked up. Saw that shit coming a mile away. Kind of makes me sad though, are Jefferson and his wife divorced in the comics? I wish they weren’t here, it would be nicer if they could stay together, IMO.

Okay so why do we have 3 CASSANDRAS now? That’s at least one too many. I was almost horrified for a second there that they were making Cass Vandal Savage’s daughter instead of Shiva’s, and then they showed us the character everyone thought was Cass in the advertisements and they confirmed she was ‘Orphan’ and then Shiva actually showed up in person and I was totes relieved. I don’t know why I used ‘totes’ but I’m keeping it in, I stand by that shit.

We saw Orphan and Spoiler and Tim! (And Arrowette but I don’t actually know who she is honestly). The music they played during their scene was totally funky spy thriller, it was cute. And all I could think of through the whole sequence was that darn meme of Tim with the girls behind him running that says, “Let’s go lesbians!” Goddamn, Tumblr why you do this?!

I was raising my eyebrow a bit with Cass having a sword. Like does she ever use a sword in the comics? I’m sure she probably could but I know she’s really against killing and that’s pretty much all a sword is used for, I just don’t think she would carry one.

Speaking of, when we see a quick flash of two detectives arresting Stagg? That was totally Bullock and Montoya.

That part when they revealed the crazy lady who kept talking about the bear was also one of vandal Savage’s children was really sad for some reason. Like she couldn’t handle being immortal and went crazy and he had to kill her. Like dang, that’s messed up.

Shade is a gay man and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise. That boy be flamin’. Like, did you hear those sex innuendos? Did you see that fancy hat?

We saw Chesire again! I really feel for her. Also I love her voice actress’s smoky voice and her huge mane of lion hair! She’s so cool.

I’m guessing that crazy white light of Halo’s that got Brion out of his shadow pocket is going to be a problem at some point. Like it will make her insane and want to obliterate the world or something.

That fight with Lobo was awesome, everyone got to show off their powers. Clearly Lobo is just a bad guy the show can throw in at any time through an anonymous contract-kill to create an awesome fight scene because no one can actually beat him, and he just leaves when he feels like it.

When Lobo smashed Forager I was like GASP! NO! NOT MUH BABY! I was like, that better have been a giant pumpkin someone switched out at some point! And then it turned out to be his shed skin and I was so relieved. And we got to see him gooey and pink, aw. And Halo and Brion said Goojie for some reason. Accents, I guess.

The whole meeting between Batman, Robin, Nightwing, Oracle, Aquaman/Kaldur, Wonder Woman/Diana and Miss Martian. It was cool to know they are all still working together, just in secret. They said seven teams though? So Young Justice, Outsiders, Batman Inc, Justice League on Earth and maybe Justice League in Space? Which are the other two? Maybe Justice League Dark? I don’t know about the last one.

And WW is all, “Are you prepared to lie on the stand?!” all outraged-like and the Bats are just looking at her like, “Pff, as if they could get us on a stand. But yes, obviously? Also, most of you guys have diplomatic immunity, being from Atlantis, Themyscera and goddamn Mars, so you better not let them even ask you.” Batman chose his conspirators well, he’s only got people who can lie through their teeth or who won’t force their citizens to stand trial if they beg out of it. He knows what he’s doing, Diana.

We saw a grown up Billy Batson! WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS!?

That playdate, though. Someone actually asked Will what the deal was with him and Artemis, and he started stammering and I’m hoping it’s not because he’s actually got anything with her or is interested. Honestly it kind of sounded like he was into whoever was asking the question, but I don’t think that was it either cuz I’m pretty sure she’s still married. Just please let this not be Hamlet-style, get with both siblings. Will, don’t get with both sisters, just don’t do it.

We saw Jon Kent! Future Super Sons is a go! We have Jon and Conner in the same world too, I want to see them be big and little bros so bad! It would be so cute.

THE KID THAT POINTED TO BUMBLEBEE’S STOMACH AND SAID WITH A TOTALLY GROWN MAN’S VOICE, “YOU GOT A BABY IN THERE!”

Like, I know Orm is a bad guy but he’s also kind of an Anti-villain, isn’t he? I’m not sure how in-character it is for him to say he’s going to kill off like thirty kids and their parents just to fuck with Aquaman.

Shiva confirmed. Totally running the League of Shadows. Also, Deathstroke is part of the Light, did we know that before?

So yeah, really looking forward to next set of episodes! I hope we see more of Tim’s team in particular.

[trash-can-enigma]

my random memory of today

Once I had to do this project where we made a google slides and it was supposed to be about southeast asia. put in randomly-chosen groups of 5. So far, it seems okay cause I’m with a friend of mine and 3 random kids who I don’t know super well. So we’re doing our research and this girl - one of the kids I don’t know well - is being super annoying to everyone and I can tell already - heh - tHis is nOt gonna go weLl. we finish research and one of us makes a google slides and puts all the research on it and we go online to download some custom theme. We choose year of the dog cause it’s asia, and we can. And thEn this girl says “hey why don’t we put #yearofthedog on it and i’m like HA - no. But she says we should take a vote so we do and she wins cause apparently my other group members are idiots - if you’re reading this, no, I don’t mean that. you guys were cool. anyway i’m kinda angry about it and I ask the teacher if that’s a good idea and she basically says it’s fine - which I disagreed with. but i’m like ok fine whatever i’ll live and everything will be great - but I was wrong. so this girl - if you haven’t figured it out yet I don’t really like her very much - thinks we should make a thank-you slide, which are unprofessional to begin with, but she doesn’t choose one of the ok-I-guess-that’s-decently-professional ones like one that says thank you in a whole bunch of different languages. instead she chooses one of those supermarket bags that says thank you all over it. of course I object and she wins again. i’m super mad at this point and so is muh friend, so I tell her it’s unfair and she says in what I think was the most snotty voice I have ever heard “Three to two. Majority rules, that’s how it works in real life, trash-can-enigma” and so I just sit there all annoyed and I think of something and I start to say it. “majority rules, that’s how it works in real life hm?” and she nods. “well, school isn’t real life cause-” and i was gonna say “we’re all protected by the teachers and we don’t have to pay bills” - and ya know other stuff about that but she frickin CUTS ME OFF like “hey, hear that, school’s not real life ahahahahahahahhahahahahahaahahhhaHAHAHAHahHAHAHAAHH” and I was just so annoyed cause everyone started laughing at me and she hadn’t let me finish so I just started crying and it was sad

[birdbooksdenbrough]

Ghost!Stan

i talked to @bisexualelioperlman about this a WHILE ago and just now got around to posting it but yknow

he died at 14 about ten years before bill moved into the house in derry

he was a 60s baby

when the denbroughs moved into the house he just fucked around in bills room by making stuff fall before he actually showed himself

bill wasnt a believer until then

at first he thought stan was an intruder then he realized he could vaguely see through him and he flipped him shit

“so you’re th-th-the asshole wh-who-whos buh-been making my stuh-stuh-stuff-ff fall a-all o-o-ov-over the p-place!”

everyday after bill gets home from school him and stan sit on his twin bed and talk about the day

stan wants to haunt the fuck out of patrick and henry

for a while stan only acts like he can do normal human stuff but one night bill wakes up to see stan fucking floating about three feet above him kind of upside down and hes leaning his head down and his curls are EVERYWHERE

bill freaks out because he??? didnt know??? stan could do that??????

he gets used to it eventually but its still really weird

stan isnt tangible unless he has a lot of energy so when he has enough energy to fully materialize he immediately finds bill and just hugs him

if its at night he wakes bill up and then just sits and hugs him

the fact that stan isnt tangible gets harder when him and bill start dating

they cant cuddle or hug or kiss as frequently as they want which gets hard so when stan materializes completely its a fucking wonderful occasion and they just sit there and cuddle on bills teeny lil bed

stans super extra, since bills taller then him he makes himself float in order to kiss bill instead of just getting on his tiptoes

richie keeps trying to set bill up with people and hes really confused as to why bill isnt compliant and its so frustrating to bill because he doesnt know if he can introduce stan to any of his friends

he tries introducing stan to eddie first since eddie believes in ghosts

eddie passes out

him and stan get along really well but appearing to more than one person at a time is really energy draining so they cant really see each other often because stans mostly confined to bills house

he introduces beverly next since theyre so close

beverly would protect stan with every fiber of her being

they get along well too and she doesnt freak out until she tries to shake his hand and it goes STRAIGHT through

mike was next

him and stan have nice calm conversations even though mike doesnt know whether or not to believe

hes kind of in denial that stans not there and highkey feels like hes just buying into bills delusion

its not until stan materializes that he really believes

bill then introduced ben and ben was so excited!!! because he reads all about these ghosts!!! and being able to see one himself is so exciting!!! but his energy drained stan REAL quick

finally bill introduces richie and richies mad

“WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A CUTE GHOST IN YOUR HOUSE? IS THIS WHY YOU HAVENT BEEN DATING ANYONE?!”

“ri-richie dont call him c-c-c-cu-cute, he still is muh-my b-b-boy-boyfriend.”’stans blushing very bad which confuses bill bc does stan have blood? how does he blush?

the week before bills birthday he doesnt see stan at all and hes like ?? did i do something?? is it because im aging?? wh ??

the other losers had been contacting stan via oujia board (courtesy of mike) and planned a birthday party for bill

stan needed to gather his energy so he refused to even show himself or move anything around the house

he fully materializes at bills birthday party and bills parents are like “lol who dis” but bills SO HAPPY THAT HE WAS THERE!!!

“i th-thought you were muh-m-m-mad at me for guh-getting older...”

“i would never get mad at you for having amazing opportunities like that”

bills so sad that him and stan cant grow up together and both of them desperately search for answers as to what they can do about it

theres really not much they CAN do except kill bill or do some crazy ass ritual with stan

theyre too scared to do either

bill doesnt know how stan died until almost two years of knowing him because stan doesnt like talking about it

stan died when he killed himself after years of intense depression

he still has the scars, even in the afterlife

bill hugs him so so tight and tells him its okay because hes happy now and they have each other

stan starts crying because hes never felt this happy and its completely because bill loves him

because they cant go to any dances together, bill will decorate the guest room with streamers and party shit and when his parents leave he brings his boombox into the room and him and stan will dance around to music looking all spiffy

bill still doesnt understand how stan changes clothes

i dont think he ever understands

after georgie passed away him and stan played in the denbrough house together a lot

when bill sees them running around them running around the house together, all happy and laughing, he starts to cry because he wasnt there for george

now stan bill and george all sit cross legged on bills small twin bed and just talk

bill feels bad for wanting alone time with stan sometimes but georgie entertains himself by floating for hours so it works out

when the remaining denbroughs die in a car crash when bill is 16, their ghosts all return to the house

bill immediately finds stan and tackle hugs him and they fall on the ground and bills so fucking sad because what about his other friends?

hes both happy and sad and hes still trying to figure out how that could be

happy hes with stan but sad he cant go see his friends

bill and stan float around the house frequently and mess around

introducing his parents to stan went better than expected

theyve got a “we’re all dead there isnt much we can do about it” mentality

knowing that people have died in the house and the loss of the denbrough family creates a stigma around the house and no one wants to move in

giving the rest of the losers the ability to see them whenever

they all celebrate their birthdays at the house and keep it up throughout the years

as all of them pass they go back to the denbrough house because thats where they were happiest since it was such a warm and loving place

ghost party

[mirceakitsune]

To those who think they have enslaved me today

Congratulations humanity: Today (20 January 2021) the American circus known as the inauguration of tooootally legit president Joe Biden took place. Behind tanks and military walls, Biden committed the political equivalent of masturbation by inaugurating himself to himself... with a little help from a few "important" people who were also there, but since they all wore Covidist masks my brain could only make out the NPC ID's rather than names and traits distinguishing them as individuals. A bunch of flags were shoved into the ground where millions of people would normally sit: The citizens by and for which he was allegedly elected couldn't be there for his inauguration, partly after it was discovered they're not citizens at all but mobs of insurrectionists who are invading their own selves! The empty streets and barbwire fences holding that pesky population back did a great job portraying the inauguration of a president voted by the majority... you could clearly see how loved by the people and legitimately elected he was! My only regret is that Lady Gaga was involved in this spectacle: They should have brought in 50 Cent or Justin Bieber, which would have done an even better job portraying the seriousness of the event and the lucidity of the people who rule us. Biden himself broke a new record, being able to read a speech from his laptop for 10 minutes straight without ever stopping and asking "wait... where am I, who are you people".

At this point the ones who radicalized society and sparked a silent civil war are close to gaining absolute power and becoming an American CCP. I'm well aware of what their next step is: They will harass and terrorize everyone who doesn't bow to their ideology and way of life, by painting them as racist Nazi extremists or a danger in other ways, inoculating systematic fear toward them to the masses. That's how over the past years the Democrat party turned most Americans against its political opponents: Obsessively associating Trump with hate while creating a cult of social justice worship which infiltrated every fiber of society. People happily bought it, even most beings I know are affected by this without even realizing something is up. The ruling elite now has a system of radicalization that works perfectly, ready to be used to program the remote-controlled masses against anyone on command.

As of 2020 the existing system is backed by an imaginary deadly pandemic, which now has an imaginary vaccine to accompany it. The infamous virus story was used to double down on what was started using social (in)justice over the last 4 years, further radicalizing people through fear using a new excuse via a secondary system. This one's more convenient since while you can't tell who is a Trump or Biden supporter just by looking at their face, those of us who don't dress up in cult uniforms (A.K.A. wear a mask) can be easily identified as ideological enemies and targeted for dissent... obviously under the cover of esoteric microscopic shenanigans used to proclaim invisible danger, it's definitely not an ideological dangers they truly fear. We're now divided between those who worship COVID-19 (or rather fear of it) and those who are fighting against ruthless slavery and savage efforts to take our lives away from us. We're about to be divided between "the plagued" and "the vaccinated" soon; I have no doubt that those of us who won't respond to the advances of the medical rapists chasing us with syringes are in for a new wave of persecution, applied brutally and systematically in hope of making us break, until we choose to let ourselves be injected with whatever poison those psychopaths created in their labs.

Now do you think it's just pro Trump people, or those who refuse to wear the muzzle made of cloth, who they will come after in the end? To every niche community who is reading this... furries, bronies, vore, etc... never forget those words: Their system will turn on you too! Once they're seen as an obstacle, they'll infiltrate those communities to "correct" them next... or if they can't or it's not worth it, they'll use fear to convince the majority they're evil and must be exterminated for the greater good. What the hell do you think I kept trying to prevent!? Do you imagine their "great empire" of obedient and socially responsible workers has any place for those like us in it?! Look at what Furaffinity, a furry art site that was infiltrated by Antifa and has its TOS written by its extremists, is now doing to artists who draw not just "socially unjust porn" but even stuff like political art under the lie of fighting hate! No... it's not "just them", no community or individual is safe from their control I assure you.

Many of us will resist until the end: They can put 100 Bidens in power... they are nothing to me, they ceased impressing me long ago; My mind has been prepared since an early age for dealing with this sort of thing, I'm a veteran when it comes to this shit! I lived the last years of my childhood waiting to be kidnapped and taken to a reeducation clinic by everyone around me, where I expected to be tied up and subjected to electroshock conversion "therapy" to have my identity erased. Especially once I realized in what danger I was for imagining thoughts forbidden to people under the age of 18 from my young age... were society able to read my mind and notice, I would have been locked away in a mental institute and injected with drugs until I'd be a vegetable today. But I was smart enough to stay silent and escape, they couldn't access my thoughts to know who I am. The same people who couldn't "purge" my identity when I was young are now back in a far more hideous and demented form, coming after us even as adults to do the same thing: Reprogram us to be ideal members of the glorious society they have planned.

All humanity had to do was simple: Put an end to all doctrines and create a neutral and disinterested government, leading to a world that would keep its nose to the pavement and not care about any social issues any more. Why do you think I supported Trump... because I have any love for that conservative fool? I sided with him because he was going to maintain a safe ignorance... no morals, no empathy, no more being forcefully "protected" by disgusting strangers who allegedly care for you or know better than you, no laws censoring people under the pretext of fighting harm, everyone kept in ignorance so we could be safe from their feelings and assumptions. That's why I waited for the army to arrest Biden today and hold a military trial instead of that silly inauguration... sadly they received a new order, he was allowed to carry on with his sham inauguration for reasons beyond me. Now I have a new desire: I'd like to see Trump arrested! For failing to contain the moral plague enslaving society and destroying our freedom, after he promised us the deep state and its social justice would be exposed live for the world to see what they did. He failed to contain humanity's stupid values and protect us from morality... he is of no use to me either, he could not bring us true freedom.

Just one question for the actual tyrant lovers, who will soon flock and regroup under Biden in their attempt to amalgamate us into their responsible world: How's living the socially responsible life really going? Do you enjoy your slavery? Your blind dedication to "muh fellow man"? This self-sacrifice bullshit, a life free of any joy in the name of safety and protection? You have what you wanted: A world where any dream of being happy is demonized because it's dangerous, where certain thoughts are carefully restricted to certain people, where you're the slaves of "experts" who will inform you what you think and feel without you even having to bother to checking your own mind! How long until it will be YOU that breaks? How much servitude can you take before you too will have had it? Or maybe you're so dedicated that you'll slave away until the end... never snapping, not stopping to wonder how sad and boring this life is and how pointless any sacrifice. What would happen if you knew the technology to give you a perfect and safe life exists, while all significant issues society still faces today are man made, most of the time intentionally? I see more violence and crime on the news: People are finally going nuts and losing it, from being locked up and having masks forced onto their faces! How much until it's finally enough, how much pain must they accumulate, how much damage must they cause, how much until the mainstream finally admits it drove everyone there by forcing its madness on us?

I know they want to see me suffer for resisting them, all their governments and secret services do. But the fun thing is, their followers are suffering far more in the end! For I am the one still sitting here up on my throne, from which they couldn't take me down and make me "socially responsible adult" like them nor involve me in their scary fantasies. I live in the real world: A world that has no issues other than some poverty, where racism is a thing of the ancient past and a joke to worry about today, where viruses are a microscopic fantasy... a modern life where anyone can do whatever the hell they want! Just what we would all have if only everyone simply minded their own business and didn't make a big deal about anything. Now that's reality... the reality they renounced in order to worship fear, for no reason other than getting sick of being too happy! I'm laughing at their burden and all the efforts they make for nothing, fighting against things that don't exist... a burden they could let go of anytime, if only they refused to keep accepting all them responsibilities and demand it. How does it feel like to be the fools in the end, just when you thought I was your victim forever? Because while you pull that mask tightly on your little face to protect "your fellow man" from something that's all in your mind, I piss on it all and still live life freely and happily, the life you allowed taken away from you for no reason! Do you hate me for outsmarting you? I definitely don't mind if you do: Hate is all I have left to feed on in a world like this. And I enjoy it even more knowing no one will ever know nor even be able to comprehend the true reasons why I do this.

[oriel]

Welcome to the tradition - me talking shit before major patches, because people can’t stop being dramatic and I love to vaguepost.

1. Map Deletion So as stated multiple times, Verteron/Altgard, Eltnen/Morheim, Theobomos/Brusthonin, Iluma/Norsvold, Levinshor and Kaldor get scrapped and to that I’d like to say: good riddance. You zoom through all the <50 maps, spending maybe total of 2 hours on them and never come back, because there’s no reason to. Levinshor and Kaldor are pretty much dead maps since 5.0 with the exception of people sometimes showing up for Kaldor siege. Iluma and Norsvold are just maps with no actual content attached to them - instances can get moved, NA doesn’t even do world bosses because we’ve been spoonfed Provenance boxes from events. It’s just a map on which you can pvp and the new 6.0 map covers that. Pretty much - the maps that they’re deleting are old content no one actually cares about. Sure, I guess it’s kinda sad to see old maps go because muh nostalgia, but personally it’s quite “meh” taken that I don’t visit them ever as a level 75. And NCSoft for sure is aware that only endgame content is active and vast majority of people cares only about endgame, so streamlining and speeding up leveling process is reasonable and long awaited for. Before someone brings up 4.8 - different story. Katalam and Danaria still had relevant content - sieges, BM camps, somewhat fair PvP grounds; even Sarpan and Tiamaranta had stuff to offer (though they were a bit older, but Tia sieges were still a blast and you could’ve gotten lots of juicy skins from that content).

2. Please stop ignoring all the other positive changes just because “m-muh nostalgia”. Honestly, I don’t get why deleting dead content is such a big concern for people here. Sure, we might lose maps no one visits unless for screenshots, but leveling also will get nerfed to the point where rotting in Fissure won’t be a necessity anymore; enchanting above +15 gets dumped; getting rid of Omegas and Temperings in general; you will acquire PvP gear only by PvPing and PvE gear only by PvEing; no more godstones and whatnot; working on class balance (as vague as it is). Aion needs these changes because as my friend stated - the way the game is now, it’s actually at the threat of dying for once in the 5 years of people saying the game is dying. Playerbase is dwindling for numerous reasons - be it the ridiculous leveling grind, needing tons of supplies to enchant and socket your gear which either forces you to spend money on this game or denies you from being a “casual player”, of course there are people leaving simply because there’s less and less people to play with. Every game needs changes to stay fresh, keep the playerbase interested and to attract new people - obviously, not all changes are good, but it is lots of trial and error with stuff like that. From what I see each time a patch is supposed to launch, lots of people in Aion community are either against changes or are very dramatic about them, which leads me to my next point:

3. Overreacting Remember how after 5.0 teaser people were losing their shit over vague teaser, just because it hinted that Asmodians will be losing mane and claws? Some were going as far as to cry that NCSoft is planning to delete Asmos and that it will apparently lead to ruining PvP; how this is ruining the game for oh-so-many-people. Meanwhile all that happened was making the mane a toggle and deleting claws, which weren’t that noticeable anyway. Or maybe the texture upgrade in 5.0 which affected character creation? Somehow everyone figured out the remodels they want to use and it all quieted down fairly fast. Even sinking of Katalam, Danaria, Sarpan and Tiamaranta stopped being this much of an issue. If you wonder what I’m getting at, it’s pretty simple - don’t overreact before the patch even launches. Hell, it didn’t even launch in Korea yet. Give 6.0 a chance once it makes it to NA and EU, don’t judge the patch by it’s vague trailers and articles.