#because it HURTS

[thats-h0w-th3-light-g3ts-in]

I can‘t say good bye to her! It‘s not possible. Ever!

Full Stevie Rolling Stone Article

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

i will never forgive the writers for how much they hurt these two in season 11/how sad both of their endings were

[tenrose]

Yes I've been screaming, crying, throwing up, raging, for ages about ten, tentoo and now fourteen not saying the words "I love you" to Rose Tyler out loud for the world to witness.

But also, no I don't want to hear them onscreen because indeed it doesn't need saying.

And YES I make total sense.

[wtfuckevenknows]

A little pride treat ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[citriosis]

not to vent on main but this is definitely not a void moment. i had this talk with my mom a little while ago (i have complex feelings about and a hard relationship with her but it was important).

it's weird being a black person that doesn't fit in either way. because i was raised mostly in predominantly white neighborhoods (living where i do now is my first time living in a predominantly black neighborhood actually) and, aside from things i had to learn to survive in said white neighborhoods, was given a pretty "white" childhood, i don't feel like i belong as a part of black culture at all.

but i'm also...not white. lol. but despite this, other black people tell me i ACT whit. i've been accused of BEING white in the past and accused of racefaking (once over stupid kinnie shit on vent dot co and once on twitter over Mental Illness) because i don't act "black enough", but my mutuals who have been in video calls with me and have seen pictures of me know i'm not white. and not only am i not white, i'm VERY clearly black. white people will be surprised by how i speak, and they say "you speak so well!", but leave off "for a black person". they don't see me as one of them, but they probably subconsciously see me as a whiter black person, which makes my fucking skin crawl.

i'm not black enough to feel like i'm not a fucking poser when i call myself black, but i'm not white enough to completely deny my heritage. i look black, but i have a white mouth. i feel passionately about Black issues, but i feel like i can't talk about them because i'll sound too white.

i feel like i'm some secret third thing in the worst fucking possible way. i'm not having a black experience, i'm not having a white experience, i'm just kinda...void. and it fucks with my self-image in ways that i'm not fully comfortable talking about on main.

as i was on this train of thought, i said something like "i guess this IS a black experience in and of itself, though" and she was like...yeah. and she said it confidently, even though it hadn't been HER black experience. but honestly it hasn't made me feel better because of ✨ internalized racism ✨ in many, many fucking colors.

she also said i'm not alone in this experience, and that i might find other people in my generation who relate to this because of how we were raised. but honestly that doesn't make me feel better either tbh, at least not rn. maybe i will feel better if i end up finding some level of solidarity, but idek if i'm gonna post this. i feel like i'm gonna get "not black enough"ed or accused of being fucking white! which hurts when i've NOT BEEN BLACK ENOUGH my whole life! it's EXHAUSTING. too white to be black (despite having no white immediate family and being black), too black to be white (because i'm black).

anyway idek how to tag this. maybe i just won't. i said this wouldn't be a void post but i almost don't wanna post this lol. but oh well. off to tumblr it goes.

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

jake probably loves chocolate milk

[geisterland]

I can’t take people misunderstanding the alliance between the ussr and nazi germany anymore help me

[theonewithallthefixations]

My Rant on Acceptance Because I am SO FREAKING DONE

It's so weird when people compliment my apron. Like, sir, you're not fooling anyone. I know you think it's the weirdest thing in the history of the entire universe. But do you think I have the time to take it off every time I need to go out in the hall and print something or go to the bathroom? No! You're not boosting my self confidence by complimenting it. You're not protecting me from some unspeakable danger by letting me know I'm wearing an apron with freaking musical instruments and paint splatters all over it, or I have a wet rag hanging from my pocket. I know, I just don't have time to care. The preschoolers take top priority. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate it. I think it’s rather sweet that people are thoughtful enough to tell me that I’m being weird, at least to their standards. I just don’t understand it. Why is wearing an apron in the hall, something that you need to wear for your sort of job, considered weird? Why is it considered weird to be a nerd? To like writing essays? To be straight, or bi, or gay, or any sexual orientation? To be religious. To be not religious. To be happy all the time, to be down all the time. Liking singing, drama, art? What’s the matter with that? Don’t judge people just for wearing their cat ears to school. Don’t meow at them, or bark at them, or treat them like anything less than their own person who likes cats. If they’re asking questions, they aren’t attention seeking. They are trying to learn. Or maybe they are! Maybe they’ve been neglected their whole life! Maybe they need the attention! Whatever reason they’re doing something, it’s not any reason to judge. Accept everyone for who they are! Because while you may think it’s weird that I wear an apron around, I think it’s weird that you can’t have a singular conversation with a child and be able to identify if not exactly, pretty close, what they need to work on and how to help them. Or rather, I don’t think it’s weird, but I don’t understand it. I’m not judging you in my head. I’m not thinking “hey, this person can’t do what I can do so I’m gonna be rude,” I’m thinking, “wow, this person can cook! Culinary is so cool!” I may be different than you. I KNOW my brain works differently, I’ve been reminded of that all my life! But I can teach you something new, just as you can teach me something new. Do you see that person sitting all alone over there? Maybe they’re crying, maybe they’re just reading, maybe they look like they need a friend. Say hi! Or if that’s extremely nerve wracking, then share a smile! If someone “weird” comes up to you, you can actually talk to them rather than avoiding them altogether. Strike up a conversation. Maybe you both know all the names of the Mayan deities in order of importance! (If you do let me know because I need a Mayan nerd friend) Maybe you like the same books, or the same movies, or there’s nothing similar about you. But you have just made this person feel important. They feel like they have a place in this world. You have no clue what’s going on. What’s weird about them? What’s weird about you? Thank you.

[quoththemaiden]

#AGH it's BEAUTIFUL#heartbreaking but beautiful#oh the unrestrained way in which crowley hugs that future aziraphale back#even though he doesn't know what's happening to himself or why this person cares so much about him#and aziraphale clearly wishing so desperately that there was something he could actually do#it's beautiful

SHOOTING STAR

[afterplaidshirtdays]

he’s trying to connect and I am shutting him out

[valtsv]

writhing in agony but i'm getting a little hot with it like arching my back and moaning and baring the smooth, vulnerable curve of my throat and white knuckle gripping the sheets beneath me

[akanemnon]

I don't like this place. It's turning everyone edgy and sad.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[erinwantstowrite]

hey guys here's a little reminder to take care of your wrist while you're writing or drawing otherwise you're going to develop carpal tunnel 😭

[wasyago]

tango doodles

first you make up a guy and then you struggle to draw him correctly

[captainkirkk]

I want to see characters being taken care of in an explicit and worshipful way. Home-cooked meals. Hair brushed and braided by gentle hands. Little gifts just because.

I want to read about characters who are not used to kindness being bombarded by acts of service. This trope works romantically and platonically. Give me found family and acts of service - all the ways a character is wrapped up in wordless, explicit care after years of cruelty and having no idea how to handle. I need it.

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.