#broken-dweebs

[halodwolf]

i hope this person dies actually

[cantankerouscatfish]

can you imagine not seeing your own blood every day? haha wild

[getgcne]

🤨 Sit down across from my muse -frank

Brody STILL didn't know how all of this worked; he was still trying to wrap his head around being where he'd been one second and wherever this was the next. There'd been fog and...thinking about it too long made his head hurt.

There were others, he'd gleamed that much. Otherwise besides the ones Brody was meant to hurt. Others that did the hurting. Brody hadn't encountered many of them up close and he wanted to keep it that way.

Brody had a home that wasn't his home. It wasn't REAL, it was like some strange copy. It was where he ran most of his trials, where he was left to wander in his downtime. It was familiar and yet it wasn't; he didn't like it and would often find himself roaming its edges like some caged animal.

In some instances, he'd made it into some forest. It would go on and on for what seemed like and eternity and often he'd turn back. Lately though, he hadn't and he'd eventually found himself in other places. He never lingered long (the threat of unknown danger often urged him back home), but he at least enjoyed the different scenery. Some junkyard of cars, a quiet neighborhood, a farm with crops so tall he could just hide in them with ease.

This place he'd found himself at wasn't one he enjoyed much at all. Cold, snowing, windy. He stuck out against the white-coated ground like a sore thumb. The disgruntled thing had sauntered into shelter, had found some comfort from the elements by a large fireplace.

His peace didn't last long. Movement caught his gaze and his head jerked towards it, ghastly and sharpened teeth already bared and a low growl rumbling in his throat. Brody wasn't hard to sneak up on if you caught him distracted.

Almost like a cat of sorts, Brody tensed but ultimately did not move. His eyes trained on the other, near unblinking.

[pluviacuratio-a]

@timescaping whispered: 🍍  ❝ If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple. ❞ (from kasumi bc ….. yeah)

MEME

{ ♪ } -- She'd blushed initially, but it only took seconds for her to burst into loud laughter at the silly pick-up line. Tears welled in her eyes and she used her finger to swipe them away, joy still evident on her face. Time to fire back!

"And if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber!"

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : I wrote 2 chapters worth of material today … but imma make y’all wait for tomorrow 🤠👹

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Moderate Cursing

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 3 | Next >

*message sent

Notification : You received a message from Oscar

*Incoming Call from Oscar

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hi Osc”

“Hi to you too. You sound so sleepy”

“Yeah, I didn’t get that much sleep on the plane.”

“I told you to limit your coffee intake. I’m not there to stop you , you gremlin control yourself”

“I know I knowww”

“So why’d you wanna call? You should sleep”

“Its just weird that I’ve gotten to see your face practically everyday since last month and now I wont see you for like 2 weeks”

“Well we both work very hectic jobs, so that would be expected. But yeah ~ i’ve gotten used to your presence”

“ Hey Osc… Is it weird to say that I already miss your voice? “

“Only my voice?”

“Well your voice is like Jake Sully y’know.”

“You and your Avatar obsession . And I do not sound like Sam Worthington”

“Who??”

“The guy who voices Jake Sully”

“Ok but how do you know that?? I don’t even know that at the top of my head. I just like Jake cause he’s hot”

“I know that because you forced me to watch blue people run and swim for 10 freaking times!”

“Well you made me watch Cars with you on repeat!”

“You also loved Cars! what do you mean?”

“Ok, I do but that’s besides the point”

“What is your point dweeb?”

“ My point is that I miss you already”

“Well I miss you too”

- Hey Osc, is that Lily? -

“Hey I’ll be back. Lando’s talking to me. Don’t hang up, alright?”

- What? No. We’ve broken up , I’ve told you that -

- I thought I heard a girl’s voice. Is she your new fling? -

- I dont do flings Lando -

- Whatever you say mate -

“Hello? are you still there?”

“Helloooo?”

“You’ve dozed off huh. Sleep well dearest”

Y/N.

liked by oscarpiastri, y/bf, logansargeant, and others

Y/N. Florida I love you but you’re too hot. Rehearsals are brutal! 🤠 send jake sully thirst traps pls

Y/N. Whaaaaa who said that?

oscarpiastri Youre so weird.

Y/N. Because having a crush on a blue car isnt??

logansargeant Its not weird to have a crush on Sally tho

charles_leclerc I support my son’s tastes. Crushing on Sally is valid.

Y/N. But me having a crush on a giant blue man is not???

oscarpiastri nope. thats weird Y/N

logansargeant nope. thats weird Y/N (1)

charles_leclerc nope, thats weird Y/N (2)

Y/N. ugh i h8 the patriarchy

Y/bf Y/N your glowing babeeee!! So excited for Floridaaa. Im catching myself a cowboy 🤠. (and ur Jake Sully crush is so Valid!!)

Y/N Babe give me a call, your pass is still with me! ( RIGHT? The blue man is hot)

Y/bf That he is, but I think orange suits you better 😘 liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri you are so right @Y/bf but its actually papaya 🤓

Y/bf stfu Oscar, im making u a case here 😤

user1 I dont know what to freak out about??!! Y/N adding another day to her concert sched or Oscar being in Y/N’s comment section and CLEARLY being flirty.

user2 Sir that is your teammate’s ex 😮‍💨

user3 Well lando did cheat … so eff the bro code or smth like that— i dunno im not a guy

user4 we can freak out about both!!! YES MY SHIP IS FREAKING FLOATING (it aint sailing till oscar confirms his breakup)

user5 Y/N becoming more unhinged by the second

user6 Y/N looks like she’s becoming better and happier 🤍 we love to see it.

user7 Enjoy your time Queen!

User7 Y/N in American soil is built different

User8 We see that like Oscar 👀.

oscarpiastri 3mins close friends

story replies

charles_leclerc do you like Americans now? well its very plausible since Logan’s American.

oscarpiastri Are you insinuating that I like Americans because of Logan?

charles_leclerc Yes, exactly that.

oscarpiastri NO.

logansargeant I knew it! Western always winssss 🤠🦅

oscarpiastri Why am I not surprised.

Y/N. Ohhhh whos the hot chick? 🤭🫣

oscarpiastri 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

oscarpiastri I dunno you tell me

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

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Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn : closed for now

[queenlua]

okay, not to be Game Mechanics Dweeb On Main,

but i still think sometimes about how viscerally spooky (yet non-graphic and non-horrifying!) the torture mechanic is in this one "witch hunt" themed LARP that i've never had a chance to play:

To torture the witch, the Accuser takes a stick from the bundle on the floor and breaks it. This represents the Witch undergoing torture. Do not describe the details of the torture in any way. The Witch must not scream, groan, or describe his reaction in any way. The Accuser must look directly at the Witch while breaking the stick. After the stick is broken, the Witch must answer in the affirmative to the next question that they are asked. In their answer, the Witch must Inquisitor exactly what he thinks the Inquisitor wants to hear. The Witch should be florid and profuse with their explanation, and should go into vivid detail. In the first two rounds, only three sticks may be broken per round. In the final round, there is no limit to the number of sticks that may be broken. If all five are broken, the Witch dies, and the game ends.

[misseviehyde]

HEARTLESS - PART 2

Time flies when you're having fun.

It certainly had for Pippa. She could barely believe it had been a year since she had claimed the power of the heart necklace and taken control of the school. Since then her life had been amazing.

Pippa found it hard to remember the pathetic weakling she used to be. Hard and also disgusting. When she looked in a mirror to see her perfect body and massive tits, it felt like she had always been this way, not some pathetic dweeb.

She tried to visualise the dorky features of her past life. She tried to imagine glasses on her face, a flat chest, a nerdy haircut... but she couldn't. It made her want to retch.

So pathetic... such a loser. Pippa was MUCH better now.

Since she had claimed the necklace Pippa had become a name synonymous with bitchiness. She was a baddie who took what she wanted and no one got in her way. She loved being the most evil bitch around.

Her parents and her friends had struggled at first to accept the new her. Luckily the necklace gave her the power to force her will onto others. It had been fun, bending and breaking the wills of others. Making them forget the original her.

She'd brainwashed and corrupted her parents, turning her kind hearted Mom into a ruthless gold digger and her Dad from a quiet accountant nto a ruthless business man.

Now they lived in the biggest house in town. Pippa had a room three times the size of her old room. She had hundreds of clothes, everything she could ever want. It was heavenly. It was what she deserved.

Power and wealth was SO addictive.

She played with her necklace as she often did, a long manicured nail idly stroking the chain as she purred with the sheer joy of just being completely evil.

The sex was the best thing. Pippa had been a virgin before wearing the necklace. She certainly wasn't anymore...

Big hard throbbing cock, tight wet pussy, lingerie, dildos, anal... cum... she loved it all. She was a nasty little slut, just like every hot busty rich girl should be.

Now after a year of fucking, bullying and dominating - it was almost graduation. Almost time to take her evil out further into the world. Unlike that loser Beckie, she wouldn't get drunk and lose the necklace. She would leave this town and live as an all powerful bitch forever. The thought made her wet.

She was so gonna be a bitch... forever.

Pippa's finger tightened on the chain of her necklace, her sharp nail brushed her skin. She moaned pleasurably.

She still remembered how good it had felt to transform that first time. To feel her body change from weak to strong, her mind from pure to evil.

She remembered how glorious her tits had felt, swelling up bigger and bigger in her hands. She remembered the intoxicating feel of power, of growing taller, stronger, more dominant. Best of all had been Kathryn's jealous haunted face.

It had felt amazing to outgrow her friend. To transform into everything Kathryn secretly wanted to be. To become a bitch.

Her pussy dripped as her nipples became harder. She felt so fucking hot right now.

"Fucckkkkkkkkk," moaned Pippa, her eyes rolling up into her head. Her fingers twitched and she clutched the chain, her lips open and her mouth a lustful leer of ecsatsy. She just felt sooooo fucking good.

"Mistress?" suddenly whimpered a pathetic broken voice.

Pippa's cruel mouth automatically twitched into a smirk of amusement. She opened her eyes and gazed down in satisfaction.

She'd always wanted a cat and now she had one.

Kathryn had entered the room. She sat obediently in the corner, dressed only in a pair of stupid cat ears and a pair of thigh boots. Other than that she was naked... well except for the butt plug in her ass with the cat tail attached.

Pippa was pleased with her work on Kathryn. Her former friend was nicely broken, an obedient puppet ready to serve. She'd been resistant to the programming... but a year was a long time and Kathryn was a good girl now. Pippa had enjoyed shaping her.

Cat-maid Kathryn was shared between Pippa and Kathryn's own mother Beckie. Since reminding the older woman of the joys of bitchdom, Pippa had enjoyed watching her become increasingly evil again. Beckie certainly was creative.

Kathryn was now just the way Pippa and Beckie liked her now and there was no going back. She spent her time cleaning and serving the other women. She even seemed to be enjoying it a little.

Pippa groaned wetly and clutched her silver heart. Kathryn was never getting her life back. Never ever...

***

Kathryn gazed up with a mix of fear, obedience and hatred at her Mistress. She hated the feel of the air on her naked body, she felt constantly humiliated and weak this way. Forced to dress as a cat girl, to lick milk from a bowl, to serve Pippa's perverted desires... she was a broken girl these days.

She whimpered and kissed Pippa's high heeled feet knowing the effect it should have. She watched slyly as Pippa tugged at the chain at her neck... a habit that was becoming more pronounced every day.

Pippa seemed to not realise how often she touched the chain around her neck. At first it had been an occasional thing, a little tug here and there. Then it had begun to increase.

Kathryn had noticed Pippa would do it more often when she was aroused or emotional. It was like an unconscious tick

She had set out to try and deliberately put her friend in either state. She knew her only hope was to somehow get Pippa to take off the necklace.

"Mistress, shall I eat you out?" whimpered Kathryn.

"Mmmmmh, why not? I feel horny," groaned Pippa hiking up her short skirt and pulling down her expensive panties. She grabbed Kathryn's head, her sharp sexy nails sliding into the other girls hair and scratching her scalp. Roughly, Pippa pushed Kathryn's face into her crotch.

"That's it you little bitch. You know what to do." One hand still unconsciously clutching the necklace, the other in her former friends hair - Pippa began to moan and groan.

Kathryn meanwhile knew that she had to try and make Pippa cum. She had to eat this pussy better than she ever had before.

She went enthusiastically to work, moaning and licking. Gasping as wet pussy juices flooded her mouth and chin. It didn't hurt that Pippa's pussy did smell and taste amazing. Kathryn hated to admit it, but she was turned on and attracted to Pippa just like everyone else. She felt a thrill of being able to eat such a Goddesses tight pussy out.

"Fuckkkk yessssss, mmmmmh I LOVE IT. Ohhhh fuckkkk I'm going to cum all over your loser face. YESSSSSSSSS!"

Pippa's hand tightened on the chain. She tugged and pulled harder than she ever had before, a toe curling orgasm blasting through her body as she began to squirt in Kathryn's face.

"Fucckkkkkkkkkkkk!"

*PING*

The sound of the necklace snapping was shockingly loud, even over the sound of Pippa's orgasm.

Kathryn leapt up with snarl her hands extended. The necklace tumbled down between them, the chain flailing. Pippa's eyes were a mask of shocked horror.

Both girls grabbed at the heart. Each now held a length of the chain, the silver heart dangling between them.

"Get off you fucking loser, it's mine!" screamed Pippa lashing out with a high heeled foot. Kathryn dodged to the side and pulled with all her might, but Pippa's grip was iron strong.

But something was already happening. Pippa was shrinking. Her sexy halter top hung baggy on her frame and her massive tits seemed smaller. Brown streaks had appeared in her hair and her beautiful face looked a bit less mean and cruel. Her power was bleeding away.

Desperation gave Pippa strength and focus. She barrelled into Kathryn and they crashed around the room, knocking over chairs. Pippa swung wildly with her free arm, forcing Kathryn to protect her face.

"You fucking loser," laughed Pippa her eyes wild with glee. "You're too weak to take it from me."

With a snarl of pleasure she kicked Kathryn hard in the stomach causing the other girl to lose her grip on the necklace and stagger back.

Grinning triumphantly Pippa held the loose ends of the heart necklace together. They fused instantly and turning to the mirror she lifted the necklace over her head and back to its rightful place.

Kathryn crashed into her back sending Pippa tumbling forward against the wall. Strong hands grabbed the necklace, but rather than trying to remove it, they pulled back. Pippa gagged and choked, gasping for breath.

Her tit's were swelling up again and her strength returning. In moments she would be powerful enough to hurl this insect from her back.

But before her transformation back into a Goddess could be fully completed, her vision began to blur.

Yanking desperately at the chain of the necklace Kathryn heard Pippa make a choking noise, then she collapsed limp to the floor.

Kathryn let go immediately, horrified by what she'd done. Leaning down she listened by Pippa's mouth and to her relief heard slow and steady breathing. Pippa was just unconscious.

Reaching down Kathryn easily lifted the necklace from Pippa. It came off shockingly fast, almost as if it were eager to be removed.

Pippa's unconscious body began to change. She reverted back to her old self... with a dorky hair cut and brown hair. A kind gentle face instead of a bitchy one.

Kathryn sobbed to see her old friend again. She had been freed of the necklaces evil.

And now it's your turn.

Kathryn looked down at the necklace in her hand. She remembered the voice, that evil voice in her mind. How many times had she lay weeping wishing she'd listened to it?

That's it. You've suffered, but that just made you stronger. Now it's your turn to wear me. Pippa has shown you how good being an evil bitch really is. It's your turn to experience the power.

Kathryn shivered. She reached behind her and wincing pulled out the silver butt plug that Pippa had made her wear.

Taking off the cat ears, she paced the room arguing with herself. She had originally intended to bury this evil necklace before Pippa stole it - now it was tempting her again.

On the floor Pippa groaned, stirring...

Pippa will find a way to take it back. Or if she doesn't Beckie will. Put me on and feel the power for yourself.

Kathryn lifted the necklace. It would look so fucking pretty round her neck. It would feel so good to be a bitch.

That's it Kathryn... you're almost there... and this time no one is going to stop me corrupting you.

Kathryn lowered the necklace. She fully expected her hands to stop, or someone to walk into the room and stop her like before... but almost to her surprise the necklace was suddenly around her neck and nestled on her chest.

"Ohhhh fuckkkkkk," she groaned as her skin shifted and her body thrummed. So THIS was how it felt to become a Goddess.

Long sexy nails shot out of Kathryn's fingers and her skin tanned and smoothed. Her hair took on volume and length, becoming blonde as her flat chest swelled out and two bitchy boobs pushed out.

Yessss that's it. Let yourself become the vessel of evil. Filled with toxic femininity. All you care about is yourself. Give into your worst impulses.

Kathryn groaned and giggled in ecstasy... "Yessss I want it. Fucking give it to me. Fill me with your evil! Make me a BITCH!"

She screamed as her ass inflated and she grew taller and slimmer. Her once plain features became hot spoiled and bitchy. She laughed as she stretched her beautiful new body.

That's it. Beautiful outside, evil inside. You are a cold, heartless bitch. You live to be mean.

On the floor Pippa weakly opened her eyes and slowly sat up. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the transforming bitch in the centre of the room and realised what was happening.

"Oh nooooo."

"Ohhh YESSSSS!" hissed Kathryn as she ran her hands over her delicious new body. Her clothing transformed becoming a stunning pink dress as thick makeup coated her features and she became a mean spoiled Diva.

In moments the power transfer was completed. Pippa was now totally normal again whereas Kathryn was gone and only Kat remained.

"You dumb fucking bitch," laughed Kat as she reached down and picked up the silver butt plug from where she had dropped it. "You thought you had broken me, but you just made me easier for the necklace to corrupt. There isn't one molecule of pity or mercy inside me now. I AM the ultimate bitch."

"Wh... what are you going to do?" whimpered Pippa in fear.

"All the things you did and worse," purred Kat.

She advanced on Pippa and grinned as she spat on the butt plug.

"But first we need to get you into your new uniform... cat maid. Bend over for Mistress."

Pippa moaned as she spread her butt cheeks wide and felt the plug slide deep inside. She knew better than to try and resist.

She would serve. It was pointless to fight.

For now...

THE END

[weebsinstash]

I didn't think about this before until I saw some tasty poly 3v art on r34 but like: Valentino and/or Vox forcing a tech/TV/computer Reader to play porn on their screen face for them to not only watch the porn but also get off on humiliating/objectifying you

Like could you even imagine you're just this. Little fucking TV DWEEB and Valentino hires you as some kinda manual labor goon after literally scouting you off the street because you kinda remind him of Vox and, maybe he'd fuck you if you got fixed up a little more, and one day Val's phone is broken and he makes you use your face/body to help him do a thing, check his email or something, and Valentino just pauses, quirks his mouth, "can you get porn on this thing?"

and because not only is he Your Fucking Boss but also an Overlord and Scary As Fuck, you cave; he only has to get a little growly and impatient and you fold like a lawn chair, pulling up whatever he told you to look up. In a future event where you were to "misbehave" and draw his ire, I can see him forcing you to play something of Angel to psychologically fuck with both of you if the two of you were friends

First, it starts with just Valentino, but then he invites Vox to come and watch you, and the tech CEO is immediately interested in your physical body/appearance but most importantly curious about your hardware/software capabilities (and maybe feeling vaguely threatened/insecure Val is going to replace him with you)

Have I ever mentioned "computer/smartphone/laptop Reader who can be used as a computer by other people and you have an actual track pad your 'user' has to touch to click and move the mouse" before, because I keep thinking of a Reader who either has a track pad on the palm of one of your hands, or, it being a specific square/rectangular shape on your upper chest/clavicle sort of area (which you would be extremely embarrassed if someone was using your trackpad by force because you have to wear lower cut shirts or they're all but holding your hand and tickling your palm)

Velvette who doesn't want to fuck you or anything but if you're going to constantly be in her house you might as well look presentable and you quickly become her new favorite dress-up dolly/tablet. fml you're basically gonna be like her equivalent of a customized phone case except she's styling you and maybe even changing any coats of paint you have to different glosses or textures if need be. She's using you like a PDA, logging notes she needs to remember, putting appointments in a personal digital calendar, making you take photos of her and her models and send them to her

Yandere Vees who customize your tech body by force??? 😳 Vox who thinks you're a cool cute little computer but you're literally like an OG big ass dial up computer and he just, forces you under the knife or whatever and you wake up with completely modern parts? Vox who forces you to be the hardware he PLAYS VIDEO GAMES ON? Vox who forces you to watch his favorite shows with him by streaming them through your body, maybe even installing a projector on you (or you already have one) so you sit beside him while streaming? The Vees forcing you to be like an assistant that follows them around taking pictures of them and they decide your photos are too shitty and pixelated and they forcibly update your camera and video capabilities? The Vees who force you to change not only because they think you would look better but because they are literally actually LITERALLY USING YOU to perform different tasks? Literally using you like a toy and object?

You're internally hoping maybe one day you can rise up and escape (potentially to a certain audiophile demon who actually likes your original, almost vintage sound quality once he helps revert you back, perhaps?) and meanwhile Valentino is asking Vox if they can start installing some sort of Go Go Gadget Gorilla Grip Pussy equipment inside of you or "did you figure out if they can vibrate anything yet--"

[superiorsturgeon]

Focus

Pyrrha: *preparing for a big 1v1 match*

Pyrrha’s opponent: *glaring and flexing* 😠

????: Go get ‘im, babe! We believe in you!

Pyrrha/Opponent: *look up in the stands*

Jaune: *waving an “Invincible Girl” flag in one hand while holding up Arkos baby with his other arm* 😘

Arkos kid: *waving at his mother* 👋😀

Pyrrha: Oh, look! My husband and son came to watch! 😊

Opponent: That dweeb is your husband? Pathetic. The kid’s not too cute, either.

Pyrrha:

Pyrrha: …this mustn’t register on an emotional level.

Pyrrha: First, distract target. Then, block his blind jab.

Pyrrha: Counter with cross to left cheek. Discombobulate.

Pyrrha: Dazed, he’ll attempt a wild haymaker. Elbow block, and body shot.

Pyrrha: Block feral left. Weaken right jaw, now fracture.

Pyrrha: Break cracked ribs. Traumatize solar plexus.

Pyrrha: Dislocate jaw entirely. Heel kick to diaphragm.

Pyrrha: In summary, ears ringing, jaw fractured, three ribs cracked, four broken, diaphragm hemorrhaging. Physical recovery: six weeks. Full psychological recovery: six months.

Pyrrha: Capacity to be rude to my wonderful husband and baby: neutralized!

Pyrrha: *zones back in and turns to her opponent*

Opponent: Hey, you in there Invincible Girl? It’s time to get ready for-*interrupted by savage beating*

[ladyloveandjustice]

So the reason I was rewatching ATLA in the thros of my sickness was because I watched Big Joel's breakdown of the live action series and areas where it failed and didn't make sense and it made me want to rewatch the cartoon again.

I went ahead and watched the Big Joel video because I figured I wasn't going to watch the rest of the live action series at this point--(it's fun to yell at it with friends but also it's probably better to take those opportunities to watch something we actually like. 3 episodes is enough of a chance, and the only scene I liked out of that was the stupid little fight where Aang threw plates at Zuko)....and man, now I'm definitely not going to watch the series.

There really did just drain away Katara's entire personality and her agency. I honestly don't understand why adaptations are so afraid of letting her be the angry, stubborn, opinionated person she is in the show. I mean I know why, sexism. It's like writers cannot fathom a girl being nurturing and kind while also having a hot temper and being passionate and outspoken. She's not a hard character to get! But they cannot hold those two concepts in their brain at the same time! It's really sad!

But there are two points that really get me

--they...they seriously have Aang agree with Paaku's sexism towards Katara. When she tells him about it he's like "well maybe you shouldn't fight" It's apparently there for in plot reasons like blabla the spirit just told him the avatar should work alone and he's scared his friends will get hurt but I don't care. no. I don't want to see Aang being a tool like that. I don''t think in the original series there's actually any situation where he'd diminish her ability to fight or side with the systemic oppression of women, and there definitely isn't any situation where Katara would silently take it lying down. She'd have kicked Aangs ass (verbally) (perhaps accidentally physically considering what her waterbending does when she's angry) and honestly, I think her trust towards him would have broken so badly it would have been really hard to repair. But that didn't happen, because like Joel said, Aang isn't a dweeb and he respects Katara, and Katara is his equal who wouldn't take that shit.

--They have Iroh excuse his actions at Ba Sing Se (to a guy who's brother was murdered in the battle) with "it was war, we were soldiers". This is played straight, like Iroh is in the right, not as a character flaw to be explored- we're supposed to think Iroh is right to say that. Like he wasn't the GENERAL of the army trying to invade and colonize a city? It wasn't war, it was violent imperialism and people defending their home. How the hell do you misunderstand that. The original show never had Iroh make excuses. The original show wasn't afraid to demonstrate Iroh was a pretty monstrous person when he was leading the invasion- his casual joke about burning Ba Sing Se to the ground in that flashback is so jarring coming from Iroh, supposed to make us see how even he was unbelievably cruel at one point, even he was part of the system of imperialism, but it took his son's death for him to change. And he did change, he started questioning and working against the system he once upheld, and dedicate himself to taking care of Zuko.

But he was a war criminal, and he knows that! I think that's in part why he wanted Zuko to take the throne, he knows someone who did what he did shouldn't be in charge. I think the Iroh we know in the show would have understood if someone who's family member died in that battle was angry at him for starting it. I think he's equally angry at himself, holds himself responsible for his son's death in a battle he commanded and could have refused to fight, and that his son's death is what made him realize what he was inflicting on others.

It's such a stupid decision and shows the writer doesn't have a single thought in their head about imperialism or Iroh's character, that they don't even understand it. incredible.

So yeah, those things alone are enough to not make me want to watch this show. The thing with Iroh shows a disdain for the core themes of the show, and Katara and Aang being stripped of what made them good characters, but even just active characters....nah not for me. I will continue watching reaction videos and breakdowns though, love that stuff.

[smokescreenimusprime]

For your ask game:

I can take the suffering from you

(yes i am an EPIC the musical dweeb, what of it)

Smokescreen remembered what Alpha Trion had told him about each and every one of the relics held in the Archive's vaults

The Forge of Solus Prime, he had introduced, the gleaming gold of the hammer shining bright even in the low lighting of the room. Wielded by Solus herself, in the hands of a Prime it can turn raw material into anything the user desires, even if they themselves do not know how to make it

He'd always looked strangely somber when talking about the Forge in particular. With relics like the Phaser Shifter he would always look amused, or the Star Saber pensive.

Now, it was as though that somber expression and words were haunting him as his past expectations were flipped.

How many times had he spent wondering what he would make with the Forge if he could? How many times had he found old scraps of broken metal and wondered what they could become? Of examining empty energon cubes, or broken data pads, or unused shelves

How many times had he lamented the lack of a Prime's hand

Now...

Now he had the Prime's hand no problem. Even with Optimus's eyes dim and his plating fading to gray, the Forge still worked, still lit up with unknown mechanisms spinning and sparking and itching to create

But now he had no materials.

It would take time to go up and drag down the scrap metal from the base, time that Optimus did not have any of

The only metal here was…

Was Smokescreen himself

He meant it when he said he would do anything for Team Prime. He was a guard, it was his job to protect and safe keep even at the cost of himself. He might not be expendable per say, but he was rarely the priority

You didn’t get much more priority than the life of Optimus Prime

But now that it was here and looking him dead on……

It was scarier than he thought it would be

-----

the Forge of Solus Prime needs raw materials to work. There isn't any time to scavenge, so Smokescreen does the only thing he can

[crappymixtape]

come back to me • part two

PART ONE HERE • PART THREE HERE // after steve gets his heart broken by nancy, tommy dares him to try something different as a rebound, someone who isn’t his type at all, and at first he’s doing it to prove a point, but when the upside down gets involved he realizes just how he really feels • 18+ | ( 6k – violence / upside down, lots of angst, some fluff, enemies to lovers-ish, steve x reader, king!steve x reader ) REQUEST @carinacassiopeiae → king!steve, reformed!king steve x reader

C O M E B A C K T O M E • P T . 2 🎶 i don't mind falling in love with you - milk.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Steve said, lips firmed in a line as the curly haired boy in the passenger seat gave him a look.

“What? It’s not my fault!” Dustin protested, a hand clasped to his chest.

“Oh, it’s absolutely your fault. In fact, all of you little shitheads are guilty,” glancing at himself in the rearview mirror Steve tried to get his hair to lay flat, but the cowlick in the back kept flipping out like a middle finger at 7:43am. He swore under his breath before turning back to Dustin, “I’m gonna be late for class. So Thursday? You better be at your place by 4 or your ass can start walking to the arcade.”

The younger boy’s mouth fell open, scoffing, so offended, “Uncalled for. And mean.”

“S’what you get for not being able to drive,” Steve shoved his door open and piled out, Dustin following close behind.

“Yeah, well. Once I can you’re gonna miss me!”

“Hah! Not a chance. 4 o’clock, Henderson. Not a minute later or you can get cozy with your stupid bike,” Steve shot, pointing a finger at Dustin as they parted ways, and the younger boy replied by flipping him off. Both hands. “Oh, real mature!”

“Kiss my ass!”

Grumbling, Steve let the boy have the last word and half-jogged across the quad toward the side entrance to the school where Tommy was waiting for him.

Carol was tucked in against the freckle-faced boy, mouth twisted in a grimace and Steve felt his stomach drop. The last people he wanted to see.

“The hell are you doing with that dweeb?” Tommy snarked, jerking his head back at where Dustin had gone into the computer lab.

“Just gave him a ride,” Steve lied because no one would believe him about Dart, hell sometimes even he didn’t believe himself, “His mom gave me twenty bucks.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you can just give that to me now,” Tommy shouldered into Steve, reaching a hand out and mock-grabbing at his wallet, “Its Wednesday! I don’t see you makin’ any moves yet.”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Steve shoved him off and Tommy just started laughing. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue at him.

“What? Where’s your cute little sign, Stevie boy? Tick tock!”

“I said shut up!” Steve turned and got in Tommy’s face, eyes flickering with a challenge. King Steve shit and Tommy’s grin pulled up wickedly.

“Whoa, touchy this morning. You on your period?”

“I’m gonna ask tonight.”

“Whatever you say, Harrington. You got two days left,” Tommy murmured, giving Carol a squeeze at his side and she giggled as he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

“Two days, King Steve,” Carol purred, a more subtle taunt, but somehow worse than Tommy and Steve jammed his tongue into his cheek, staring them both down.

He hadn’t exactly planned on jumping the question on you today, in fact he didn’t have a plan at all, but studying had gone well the last two nights. Much better than he’d expected it to and you told him he could come by again after school if he needed it, but now he was feeling nervous. Anxious. Unsure. You were being so nice to him, helping him and not asking for anything in return and here he was playing some game. Like all the assholes you said you hated and he couldn’t help the pang of guilt that squeezed tight in his chest.

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” Steve muttered, shoving past them and into the school. Class couldn’t be over soon enough.

“Scoot over.”

“What? I’m not even that close to you, there’s plenty of–”

“You’re on my side, just–” you reached a hand out to shove at Steve’s thigh, trying but failing to move him off the edge of your cushion and he only settled in further. “Seriously, Harrington?”

“Just ask the next question. C’mon, I got it,” he waved a hand at you and the notecards stacked in a pile on the side table. It earned him an eye roll and a sigh.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, tucking yourself as far away from him as you could and grabbed one of the flash cards, fixing him with a glare.

It was now the third day he’d come over after school to study and even though you’d told him on Monday that you needed to stop at seven he somehow managed to hang around. Weaseled his way into your room as you picked out notes on your guitar, lounging lazily on your bed while you sat in the window playing.

You almost told him you wanted to be alone, almost made him go home, but it was nice. Playing with someone else around. Nice to have someone to talk to, to laugh with, and god. The way he looked at you, eyes all brown sugar and honey, you couldn’t say no.

Especially when he told you how he liked the sound. How well you played and it didn’t seem like a ploy, wasn’t a ruse, he meant it. He actually sat and listened quietly and smiled, tapping his fingers along with the notes and it made your stomach flip over. Made you feel silly.

Because he was a jock. An asshole. King Steve. He wasn’t supposed to be all sweet and encouraging and teasing you and giving you looks like he did. Right? Right?

And now it was Wednesday and Steve Harrington sitting in your living room felt kind of normal and he was funny. Smug, but kept up with your banter and actually answered a few questions correctly for once and you wondered when it would all end. When would it all come crashing down around you? King Steve jumping out from behind the curtain with some shitty comment loaded and at the ready.

You felt your guard still up, not letting him in completely, but he was wearing you down and it scared you. What you wanted. What the feelings stirring in your chest meant. Especially when he was sitting so close and…

“When did the Revolutionary War start?” your eyes flicked up to look over at him as he picked at a loose thread on the arm of the couch.

“Uh–” he tilted his head back against the cushion and screwed his face up in thought, tongue flicking out across his lips, working through it. “April something? 1774?” he turned to you, brows lifted in hopes he got it right, but your smirk told him no and he groaned, “Jesus, can we take a break?”

“Oh, now you want a break? C’mon, 1775! That’s so easy!”

“Yeah, for you maybe! Not everyone’s a genius, genius,” he teased and you huffed a laugh. Damn him.

“Poor baby,” you snarked, nudging his knee with yours and he grumbled under his breath enough that you took pity on him. “Fine, break. I need to play a little bit anyway,” tossing the notecards back onto the table you stood from the couch and stretched, cut-off sweater lifting just high enough that the dip of your lower back peeked out and Steve couldn’t help looking.

You were right there and shit, you were cute, and his cheeks grew warm, flushed and pink, and for once in his life he didn’t know what to do.

Usually he’d reach over and grab Nancy, pulling her down into the couch with him or dig his fingers into her waist, reaching and wanting more, but this was different. You weren’t Nancy or Tammy Thompson or Allie Parker. You were different, but then he heard Tommy. Taunting. Laughing. Smirking.

I got a proposition for you. Little game, huh? I dare you to get a freak to catch feelings for you. You’re losing your grip on shit, King Steve.

He had to ask. Tonight. No, he hadn’t planned on it, but he could already see Tommy waiting for him in the quad. Arms crossed and a stupid smirk on his face. Ready to dig into him and give him shit and tell him he was a pussy. That he’d lost it over a bet and Steve already felt fed up. Anxious. Frustrated. But then he looked at you again and the anger in his chest stuttered. Would he hurt you just for the clout?

“Uh, can I stay? If it’s okay with you?” he choked out realizing he was still staring. Clearing his throat he dragged his eyes away from you and stood from his spot on the couch.

“Again?” fell out in surprise and your cheeks turned pink as his face shifted, apologetic and a little startled, and it made your stomach flip over.

“S-sorry, I can go–”

“No! No, it’s okay. I just–” you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to pick your words, “–its just funny. Steve Harrington wanting to hang out.”

His lips tugged up into a lopsided smile, brows pinched together in mild confusion, “Why is that funny?”

“Are you joking?”

“No?”

Standing just a few steps apart you laughed. You couldn’t help it. It was incredulous and amused and bewildered and he tried to laugh with you, but clearly wasn’t getting it.

“Steve, look at us. Carol throws fries at me at lunch,” it might’ve been a little too deadpan, but you didn’t shy away from it and he just stood there for a minute letting your words settle in the space between you before looking down at his feet.

Steve.

The first time you’d said his actual name. Not Harrington. Not dingus. Not genius. Not idiot. How was he supposed to do this? Make you fall for something that wasn’t real? It was easier when you were at school and not sat close on the couch. Easier when he didn’t know you. Easier when he hadn’t been in your room, but now…

“Yeah, she sucks.”

You snorted and covered your mouth, waiting for him to take it back, but he didn’t and you let your hand fall away. “She sucks so much,” you said, braver, and he looked over at you with a grin.

“A real piece of work.”

“Oh my god, Harrington. I’m telling,” you teased and the air grew lighter as you traced the steps to the stairs, Steve following behind you still grinning and laughing.

“Okay, but you’re gonna have to avenge me after Tommy kicks my ass.”

“Kicks your ass?”

“Yeah, you know, come to find out I’m actually shit at a fist fight. Everyone else: 2. Steve: 0.”

“Did you just talk about yourself in the third person?” you half-laughed, crinkling up your nose and looking over your shoulder at him as you reached the landing and he played it off so easy.

“Yeah and?”

“You’re a weirdo Steve Harrington.”

“Been called worse, princess.”

“Shut up.”

It was dark in your room when you reached the doorway, Steve hovering over your shoulder waiting for you to go in. As you clicked on the lamp everything was washed in gold, warm and hazy, and things fell together like they had the last two nights.

You went in first to grab your guitar. Steve followed suit and kicked his shoes off before taking up his now usual spot. Flat on his back in the middle of your bed, eyes wandering the band posters on your ceiling while you perched yourself on the window seat.

The silence between the notes you played had been uncomfortable at first and you’d felt the need to fill it with stupid conversation, but now only two days later it was easy. Or easier. Especially as Steve kicked his feet off the end of your mattress while he read one of your Thrasher magazines and you smiled a little at the thought of it.

Were you friends?

Plucking out a few chords you hummed along with it and scribbled a few more lyrics down in your tattered notebook. Steve looked up over the edge of his magazine, but didn’t say anything and you tried to ignore it, tried to keep playing, but you could feel him. Still looking.

“Can I help you?” you glanced up at him through your lashes and quirked a brow, a bit unimpressed but tolerant and he grinned.

“No, just sounds nice,” he replied, voice all sugary sweet and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“It’s hard to focus when you’re staring,” you pushed, setting your pen down and he raised his brows in mock surprise.

“Sorry, I’ll just–” Steve held up his magazine and tucked back into it and you shook your head, taking up your pen, but a few minutes later he was looking. Again.

This time you put your guitar aside and tilted your head, lips twisted half in thought and half in a scowl. “What?” you prodded, but this time he softened and you felt your stomach flip over. You wished you hadn’t asked.

“So listen,” he started, setting the magazine down and you instinctively tucked your knees into your chest, his tone making you feel all kinds of things. Anxious, anticipation, excitement? Worry. “You don’t seem like the type to go to football games or dances and all that, but–”

“Oh no. No,” you cut him off, feet hitting the floor as you abruptly stood from the window seat, “Absolutely not. Don’t finish that question.”

“Oh, c’mon princess! You don’t even know what I’m gonna–”

“And god I hate that. Don’t call me princess.”

Steve was standing now too, socked feet almost toe to toe with your bare ones as he crowded into you and you could smell fresh laundry. Mint gum. Cedar like the tree outside your window and boy. Your head felt hazy and you swallowed thick, kept your eyes on his, chin tilted up in defiance as he grinned down at you just a little.

“Why? Just go with me. To homecoming,” there, it was out now and as he looked down at you, you made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

“No, I hate that shit. It’s just a bunch of jocks parading around and slapping each other on the ass for a couple of hours before everyone crams into the gym to grind on each other,” you muttered, still a touch defensive, but softening the longer he looked at you.

“Okay, so maybe we watch a little of the game and then we can ditch. Do whatever you want,” he offered, still so close to you and you felt yourself giving in.

“Do you really want to take me?” you asked and his grin cracked, thoughts of Tommy and the bet swept out the window with the look in your eyes and he stuttered over his words.

“Y-yeah, course. W-why would I ask you if I didn’t?”

“Because. You’ve lived right there your whole life and you’ve never once said hi to me,” you pointed a finger through your curtains over to his room next door, “C’mon, Harrington. Why are you here?”

Steve’s heart was racing. He knew why he was here originally. Knew he wanted to shut Tommy up. Knew he didn’t want to admit he was losing his grip on shit. Didn’t want to be perceived as weak or whipped. Like the break up with Nancy didn’t matter, but it did. And he was hurt and he was losing his grip, but when he was with you it didn’t suck so bad and he could be himself and you laughed at his dumb jokes. Held him to his to shit and didn’t shy away and god, he liked you.

“Okay, fine. I’ve been an asshole, but can’t I change? Can’t I want to hang out with you? What’s so wrong with that?” and with those words he knew he was done playing the game, he meant what he’d said and the sudden confession felt freeing. Terrifying, but like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he felt his heart thudding hard against his chest. Waiting for you.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, eyes searching his, looking for the punch line and waiting for the gotcha! moment, but it didn’t come and you bit the inside of your cheek. Trying to ground yourself. Trying to be realistic, but he was making it so damn hard.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you finally said, voice soft and low, reluctantly letting your chin dip back down. “I just–”

“You just what? C’mon. Come with me. Please?”

A no bubbled up in your chest almost immediately for preservation, survivor’s instinct, and it was like he sensed it. Lifting his hand to your cheek he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and as his fingers brushed against your skin you felt the embers in your chest flicker, cracking and snapping into flames. Breath hitching in your throat you took a small step back, enough to gather yourself, and looked back up at him with a small scowl.

“Fine, but I’m not staying past kickoff. And I want pizza. And ice cream. Two scoops,” you demanded and it pulled a grin from him, all smug and shit and you shook your head trying to fight off a smile of your own. “Wipe that stupid thing off your face,” you grumbled and he laughed.

“No, don’t think I will. Think I’ll keep it. People tell me I’ve got a nice smile.”

“That’s not a smile, Harrington. That’s a certified shit-eating grin and it doesn’t become you.”

“Oh yeah? Well you should try it more often, I like when you smile,” he shot back and it caught you off guard and your lips parted, trying to find words but at a loss.

I like it when you smile. I like it.

Taking another step back you curled back up on the window bench, Steve looking at you like he could do it all day, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks,” came out soft, tentative, and he smiled. One that pulled up at the corner of his lips ever so gently, crinkled in the corners of his eyes, so fucking fond and sweet and he shook his head.

“You’re welcome.”

Steve had stayed late and somewhere around eleven you forgot about your guitar and instead took up a spot next to him on your mattress. Thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. Talking about school. About college. About how neither of you wanted to go because what a waste of money and maybe working at Family Video or the mall wasn’t that bad.

You told him your parents were gone a lot and it was mostly just you and your sister. Fighting over clothes and eating cereal for dinner and he’d laughed. Commiserated with you because his parents were never home and it had its perks. Staying up as late as he wanted, eating pizza all the time, no one bugging him about his grades. He’d told you to come swim in his heated pool sometime because it was like a giant hot tub this time of year and you’d blushed at the thought of him in swim trunks.

Finally he left a little after midnight, eyes heavy and reluctant, and you wondered what it would be like to fall asleep next to him. What it would be like to wake up next to him. And when you opened your eyes the next morning you saw the Thrasher magazine he’d thumbed through sitting just under your pillow.

Most nights you didn’t dream, but last night. Oh last night. You’d dreamt of Steve. And that smile. The one that made your stomach flip over. The one that made you feel dizzy. Wrapped itself around you soft and warm like summer and oh my god he’d asked you to Homecoming.

Well. To kickoff and then pizza and ice cream and you’d agreed, but what was happening? You couldn’t deny the feelings that were flickering under the surface. The ones that only happened when you had a stupid crush, and they were made even worse by the fact that it was Steve.

Steve Harrington.

King Steve.

It all felt like a joke, but he’d been so sincere standing there in your room, glowing in the soft light from your lamp and maybe you’d been too hasty. Too caught up in how it made you feel and as you rolled over to look out the window you thought maybe you should cancel. Tell him you weren’t feeling well. Find Eddie on Friday instead and go smoke out under the bleachers and make fun of all the cheerleaders, but as you turned your cheek into your pillow you caught fresh laundry. Spearmint. Cedar and Steve and dammit. Who were you kidding, you couldn’t cancel.

You left the house way earlier than usual to avoid having to see him, the maroon BMW still sitting in his driveway. It wasn’t like you to shy away from anyone, but this was all so new. Uncharted. Untouched and unknown and maybe if you saw him again alone something bad would happen. He’d realize he’d fucked up and take it all back. So you’d wait until first period science and it’d be better. Right?

“Tommy,” Carol was practically whining, sitting in Tommy’s lap with his head tucked into her neck and he huffed a laugh against her skin pulling a breathless giggle from her.

Wrong. Not better.

Paired up into groups of four you were all crowded around the square desks with beakers and vials of liquids and materials for an experiment and of course your group had landed you with Steve. And Tommy and Carol.

“Seriously?” you muttered under your breath, putting a hand up to your face between you and the disgusting display of PDA happening across the table.

“Sorry,” Steve had muttered under his breath to you, sheepish and shying away from it just as much as you were. He knew he’d been just as bad with Nancy and watching it now made him feel like an idiot.

He’d tried to help a little, but Tommy kept distracting him and surprise. You were carrying the majority of the work. Taking all the notes, prepping everything Mr. Nelson had set out for the experiment, even wrote down the stupid equation used to find the correct amounts of elements, but no one cared.

You felt yourself growing irritated. At tweedle dee and tweedle dum for sucking face in class. At Steve for not helping you and as the bunson burner flickered under your beaker full of liquid, you watched Steve’s friends through the glass.

“You like that? Huh, babe? Wanna skip seventh period? Meet me in the bathroom?” Tommy grinned into Carol’s mouth and you make an overly noisy gagging sound.

Turning to look at you, Tommy caught your gaze through the beaker and smirked. His freckled cheeks pulling up with it as he chewed on his gum.

“What? You jealous?” he teased, voice edging on mean, “Bet you’d be a wild one if you loosened up.”

“C’mon, man,” Steve’s tone was short, clipped and irritated. He’d been sitting quiet the whole time, tolerating and ignoring it all, but when Tommy turned to you something in him snapped. Cheeks flushed and embarrassed at his friends he threw a pencil across the table and it only made Tommy grin wider.

“In your fucking dreams, Hagan. What, is Carol too boring for you?” you shot, wanting to slap the look off his face as heat crept up your chest and the shock on Carol’s face was worth it.

Tommy’s smirk fell a bit as he watched you, eyes narrowing as he considered what he wanted to say. No one challenged him like that, not even Steve who was grinning down at the table. You were quick and shit. He loved it, but Tommy didn’t.

“Nah, we’re good here, but I bet Harrington’d show you a good time. Maybe after Homecoming, you’re going together right?” Tommy snarked, licking along his lips, waiting for Steve to take the bait.

Your eyes pulled away from Tommy to look at Steve, quick wit and sharp words stolen away from you by the way your stomach lurched.

The punchline you’d been waiting for.

“Christ,” Steve hissed, face flushed like you’d never seen before and he nearly jumped across the table to smack a hand over the other boy’s mouth. He gave Tommy a look. A warning. Shut up. But it only pushed the other boy to go further.

“Seriously, I got a twenty in my wallet. C’mon Stevie boy, show her how it’s done–“

“Can you tell Nelson I went to the nurse? M’not feeling very good all of a sudden,” you didn’t let Tommy finish and glared at Steve, throat tightening as you tried to push down the emotion welling up in your chest.

You shoved yourself away from the table a little too harshly and the glass beaker clattered against its metal stand as you grabbed your things and headed for the door.

“Awh, c’mon! I’m only teasing, sweetheart!” Tommy mock-pleaded, snickering between his words as Carol watched amused and smug from the safety of his lap.

Steve opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, defend you even, but it didn’t matter anymore. You were already gone.

“God, Tommy. You’re such an asshole,” Steve snatched his binder from the table and hurried out the door after you.

You could hear Steve’s shoes slapping against the hallway tile behind you, trying to catch up, but you didn’t slow down. Heart hammering in your chest you tried to suck in deep breaths, tried to calm yourself down, but god you were angry.

“Hey! Just wait!” and Steve’s hand caught yours, hitching your steps and spinning you around to look up at him.

“What?” you hissed, flinging his hand off of yours and hurt flickered in his eyes for a second.

“I just–”

“You just what?” you said again, just as firm, just as plain, waiting for him to cook up some excuse and his lips parted but nothing came out. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. You’re just as bad as he is,” you pointed back down the hall to Tommy. To Carol. All cut from the same fucking cloth. You turned to walk away and Steve grabbed your hand again.

“Please,” he said voice edging on pleading and you spun around, walking right up to him so that your shoes were almost toe-to-toe.

“Twenty bucks? This was all a joke, right? Is that what I am to you? A joke?”

“No! No, I like hanging out with you now that–” but Steve caught his slip up and swallowed the rest of his words, watching as your cheeks burned bright under the bad florescent lighting.

“Now? What the hell does that mean?”

“Well–I just mean that, y-you know, we weren’t really friends before and–”

“God,” you choked out, willing the tears away that were stinging at the corners of your eyes, “Save it, Harrington. Good luck on your stupid test.”

And you didn’t wait, didn’t give him another chance to defend himself, so damn frustrated with yourself for trusting him. For letting him into your room. Letting him listen to you play your guitar and oh my god. For helping him.

Slamming your hands into the cold metal push bar of the exit door you ran out through the quad and slipped in the gravel between the gym and computer lab. Sweater catching on the brick as you slid down the wall to the floor, you buried your head in your hands. Hiding. Trying your best to undo all the delusions you’d dreamed up about Steve being different.

Because no. Steve Harrington was an asshole. Nothing had changed and you were a fool for believing it could.

Somehow you made it through the rest of the day. Passed a pop quiz in math and ate your lunch alone the bathroom. Steve wasn’t in any of your other classes until seventh period, Click’s class, and when you slammed your locker shut you looked down the hallway to see him walking up from the opposite direction.

He looked wrecked. Like he’d been punched and when his eyes met yours you scowled. A deep pinch between your brows, hoping he felt just how angry you were and he couldn’t hold your gaze. Glancing away for a minute confirmed that he was a coward and you took some solace in it, but decided you didn’t want to go to class. You hadn’t missed one yet this year and Click could deal.

You didn’t have a car and as you walked across the parking lot a rumble of thunder growled in the distance. Fantastic. A walk home in the rain sounded great.

Tugging your coat around your frame you felt the air shift, a drop in temperature, and it was slow at first. Little drops here and there. Pattering soft against the pavement as you hurried between the cars, but they got bigger and bigger until another clap of thunder cracked the sky in two and then it poured.

Almost halfway home and you were soaked. Shoes squelching with each step you took. Rain dripping off the hood of your coat and onto your face where it mingled with the tears streaming down your cheeks. Cars sped by you on the road, tires kicking up water as they went loud and wet and you almost didn’t hear one slowing down over the rain until a horn honked.

“Hey! Are you crazy? Get in!”

Squeezing your eyes shut you stopped, rain still dumping down on you and the voice called again.

“C’mon! Please?”

It wasn’t too much further, but it was so damn cold. The rain didn’t show any sign of stopping and you weren’t an idiot, so against your better judgement you turned and hurried back the short distance to the maroon BMW idling on the side of the road and climbed into the passenger seat.

The loud smack of rain on the road was sliced in two as you shut your door, leaving you and the boy in the driver’s seat in silence.

You didn’t look at Steve, instead tangling your hands in your hair to wring out the water onto your lap, but you could see him stealing glances out of the corner of your eye. If you opened your mouth you knew you’d say things you’d regret, knew you’d be too mean with it, so you bit your lips in between your teeth and stared at the tiny grooves and patterns on the dash.

“Silent treatment? Seriously?” Steve finally asked, voice low. Miserable and unsure and it pulled your eyes up to look at him.

He was a sight. Hair stuck wet and messy across his forehead, probably from running out after you into the rain. Drips of water beading along his lashes, the tip of his nose, the line of his jaw. Still so damn pretty even when he was a wreck and the anger in your chest flickered at the how your thoughts betrayed you.

“Yeah. Seriously,” you said matter-of-factly, holding his gaze, making sure he saw just how hurt you were and he loosed a heavy sigh.

“I’m really sorry,” he tried, turning so he could see you a little better and god he did look sorry. You’d honestly never seen anyone look more sorry in your life, but Tommy’s stupid laugh echoed in your head and you screwed your eyes shut.

“That doesn’t fix it, Harrington,” came out wobbly and you swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing yourself forward, he needed to hear it. “You think you’re untouchable, like you run shit, and maybe you do right now, but tell me its worth it. Is it worth it?”

His face shifted, pained, his eyes dropping to the center console as he ran a hand through his wet hair. It wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t as soon as he saw Tommy that morning. Knew it wasn’t when you’d said yes to going out with him. He thought maybe he knew it all along, but couldn't admit it.

“No,” he finally managed, shaking his head, “No. It’s not and I’m really sorry.” When he looked back up at you, you felt like he sucker punched you. Either he was a fantastic actor or he’d meant what he’d just said. No doubt about it and you roughed your hands over your face.

“Please just drive me home,” you said quietly, leaning your head against the window all fogged up from the moisture and wet clinging to your bodies.

“Yeah. Okay,” he agreed and pulled back onto the main road, still stealing glances at you. Checking to see if you were alright. If you needed anything. If you’d listened to him.

He weaved through the puddles in the road, lightening rippling across the sky ahead of you through the windshield and he didn’t push. Didn’t make you talk. Didn’t want answers right away and instead settled into the quiet.

You wished you could go back to how it was before. Go back to seeing Steve in his room across the side yard from yours throwing a tennis ball against he wall. Back to him floating in his pool while you read your book, safely tucked away in your room. Back to walking past him in the hallway at school and saying nothing, but you knew you couldn’t now. Knew things had changed and you wondered at it. What would it be now?

Looking out the window you realized you’d missed the turn at the hospital down your road and were off toward the Steel Mill now.

“Harrington, this isn’t our street,” you grumbled, fixing him with a look as he pulled off into a driveway you didn’t recognize and threw the BMW into park.

“I know, I know. I just gotta check something really quick. I promise, like, five minutes and then I’ll take you home. Okay?” he gave you an apologetic look, a real one and you groaned, but relented. Shaking your head and leaning back against the window.

“Whatever, just hurry up,” you muttered and he nodded.

“I promise,” he said again before popping the trunk and hopping out of the car into the rain.

You didn’t know whose house this was, but you’d recognized Barb’s place on the way and there was a bike tossed against the garage that you knew you’d seen before. The curly-haired kid with the walkie talkie?

Catching Steve in the rearview mirror you saw him grab something from the trunk before slamming it shut and as he ran up the walk a flash of lightening caught silver. Lit up what it was he had held tight in his hands.

The bat. Full of nails. And when he wrenched the front door open you caught strings of Christmas lights, but it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. What the hell was going on?

Crawling over into the driver’s seat you unrolled the window, feeling a little braver, a little bolder, and strained your ears to see if you could hear anything. Hear why the hell Steve Harrington needed a bat full of nails or why someone put Christmas lights up this early and for a minute it was quiet. Normal. Not unusual.

Until you saw it.

The colored lights in the windows started to flicker erratically. Flashing and blinking and stuttering against the paned glass and your brow furrowed. Power outage? But then a high pitched screech pierced the air and you jumped in your seat. Not human. Not animal. Something else and goosebumps trailed up your arms. And then a yell, this one human, and your stomach lurched.

“Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit!”

Steve.

“Jesus, gimme the bat! The bat!”

You didn’t know what was going on, but something was horribly wrong and mad him or not, fuck if you were gonna sit around and wait. Fingers wet and slipping against he handle on the car door you flung it open and sprinted through the mud and the rain toward the house.

He might’ve been an asshole, but said it himself, Steve Harrington was shit in a fist fight and lucky for him you had a hell of a swing.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[still-a-morosexual-help]

unnamed gender neutral MC x Mammon Fic:

The Vacancy

What they have always wanted was a place to belong. A place for themselves, full of love and purpose and family. Where people were happy to greet them each morning. Where their existence mattered. Isn't that what everyone wanted? Wouldn't you do anything, everything , to find that place?

Tags: •Alternate Universe •Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting •Horror •Psychological Horror •Body Horror •Fluff •Twisted & Fluffy Feelings •Mild Gore •Unhealthy Relationships •Happy Ending •Cults •Human Sacrifice

Rating: M

Let me know your thoughts! Comments kept me fed and reblogs are the only thing keeping tumblr alive

(This was originally a 11k one shot written and posted on Sept 10 2023. But I have since then added 1k more words to the original one shot, broken it down into 7 chapters and then expanded on this fic with many more completely new chapters

So if the first 7 chapters seem familiar it's because they were posted previously, just with slightly less content. A new chapter will be posted every Saturday/Sunday)

Tag List (if you want to be added like this -> post. If you want to be removed lemme know);

@ashplsstfu

@kadythethief

@aspiring--cryptid

@wanderwelle

@sansarawheelvictim

@nagitokomaeda-the69th

@knight-clover

@butterflywaffle

@believemeimeverywhere

@weareparanoidcynicalpeople

@jolynetodd

@lunaslemons

@silverinnia

@val-monny

@alexeizzo

@obervation-subject-753

@niacks

@naughtybodypillow

@baby-jeonginnie

@ask-angel0

@yourimaginaryfriiendd

@whatamidoing89

@mammonismyfirstman

@kuro-personal

@pandapantslovesyou

@mammoneythegreat

@kawaiiartsstuffowo

@novanight87

@oooowl

@pajamasatepb

@saccharineconcinnity

@yourboyhack

@itzblazekun

@medicinalkiwis

@heavenly-greed

@sidgethegamer

@timetomakeanewwish

@mozzarellatelevision

@stale-cheetos-and-fragile-egos

@obeymeharemowner

@hauntedcatnerd

@darkflowerav

@mxsunnybop @betta-phish @anxiously-sidequesting

@jabesa0

@reikabae17

@dweeb-central

[whimsicalgoose]

ok ok I would like to bust down the sniperscout autism4autism bc its consuming me

sniper's autism: can only talk so much till he's genuinely exhausted (which isn't a lot). he doesn't find reason in emoting a lot unless the situation calls for it. for this reason, people don't really hang out with him except out of pity because he seems "lonely". in other words, ppl have always thought he's sorta boring. sniper got tired of humoring ppl who talked to him to make THEMSELVES feel better, so he just sorta. keeps to himself. its easier that way, and he enjoys it.

scout's autism: he has to talk and talk and talk and talk and be soooo funny so people will actually like him. unfortunately, this just drives people away and makes them think he doesn't know how to shut up. scout used to easily forget what he's said in conversation because he was too focused on keeping the other person's attention, but he's gotten better. after so long of basically getting his spirit broken throughout his childhood, he found it was easier to be loud/dickish on purpose. partially out of spite, partially because he was tired of seeing himself as the dweeb that couldn't make any friends.

even just platonically, they work out perfectly together. scout can talk about whatever the fuck he wants and sniper can just listen. and scout knows sniper doesn't think he's unbearable and that he's actually listening. and sniper knows scout isnt just doing it because he thinks sniper is all alone, its because he likes his company!!! and scout thinks sniper is literally the greatest person on earth for not shutting him out and even inviting him to just sit with him. and sniper thinks scout is the most understanding guy he's come across, ever, for not demanding too much of him.

(sniper feels bad that scout was ever treated like he was stupid just because he was forgetful and talked a lot. scout feels bad that sniper had to protect his peace so hard that he had to separate himself from his peers (scout wouldn't know what to do if he was alone))

anywho yeah I'm normal i love them an average amount. even if by some chance im not any sort of neurodivergent, i undoubtedly came across as an autistic kid when I was very young, considering how I was treated. i projected very hard on scout. i hope I didn't step on any other autistic ppls toes with this!

[toxinoire]

(Because I miss these two dweebs)

(Inspired by and MLB skit)

Kara: So...you're me.

Pirate!Kara: Yep.

Kara: And you're also me.

Dead!Kara: Yes.

Lena: This is so weird...it's like looking at a broken mirror.

Teacher!Lena: Fuck you.

Lawyer!Lena: Eh, well it can't get any worse...I hope.

Lena: Uhm...Kara what the hell is that?

Kara: Huh? Oh fuck...

Red Kryptonite!Kara: I literally want to kill all of you.

Red Kryptonite!Kara: ...Except Lena. She's fine.

All Lenas: What-?

Kara: And who are you?

Villain!Lena: A better version of that. *points at Lena*

Lena: Okay wow-

Red Kryptonite!Kara:

*careless whisper*

Pirate!Lena: Where's the music coming from?

Villain!Lena: ...Why is she looking at me like that?

Red Kryptonite!Kara: So you come here often~

Villain!Lena: ...

Villain!Lena: I have a Supergirl in my universe.

Red Kryptonite!Kara: Really? Cause I don't see her.

Villain!Lena: She's- *looks around* currently not here...

Red Kryptonite!Kara: So what I'm hearing is...single.

Red Kryptonite!Kara: We can totally rule the world together-

Villain!Lena: I'll turn to the good side if she leaves me alone-

Red Kryptonite!Kara: Wait no-

Villain!Kara: She doesn't need to. Get the hell away from her you drug infested bitch-

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

batman comics update!

finally got to #489, and azrael is here!!!!

JEAN-PAUL!!!!!!!!! I love that dweeb.

also batman is insanely utterly mentally ill and tired, Tim please make him have a Panadol rapid and a nap.

some highlights of his unhinged behaviour:

not reset his broken nose for 3-4 days straight and bleed everywhere

collapse on the stairs from utter exhaustion

not sleep properly for 4-5 days straight and run off of 4 hours of sleep

almost die

contemplate sleeping forever aka suicidal thoughts

and get his head bashed in by metal head, (no one cares about metal head don't worry!)