#covering all my bases here

[snowwdecahedron]

I don’t think you want me to make that for you

[estrellami-1]

Writer prompt: TW (you don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable) sleepy Steve telling the older teens (Jon, Nancy, Robin, Argyle, & Eddie) about being touched without consent while drunk during his King Steve days & they realize that that's why he doesn't really drink anymore.

Okay this sat in my inbox for SO FUCKING LONG (I’m so sorry babe) before I finally felt like I could do this justice. Here goes nothing! Content warning for discussions of past rape. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Okay? (Okay)

After everything—a small, unassuming word that means so much, especially to this ragtag group—most Friday nights can find the six of them in Steve’s house, a few beers and a few more sodas on the coffee table, slow, quiet conversations with a few long, comfortable breaks.

It’s during one such break that Steve nods off.

He hadn’t been sleeping—not that any of them had been—so the general consensus was to let him sleep. Robin covers him with a blanket, and the conversation moves on.

Eventually the night comes to a close, and Robin looks at Steve’s sleeping form before turning her gaze to the rest of them. “I can’t lift him,” she says. “But I don’t want him stay on the couch all night.”

Eddie smiles softly at her. “Want me to take him upstairs?” She nods, and his smile grows as he stands and ruffles her hair, snorting at the glare she sends his way.

He gets an arm around his shoulders, but as soon as his other hand touches Steve’s knee, he’s awake and across the couch. “No, don’t!” He pleads, eyes wide and unseeing. “I don’t- I don’t want-”

“Steve,” Robin says quietly, putting a hand on his arm.

Steve goes still, eyes squeezed shut, only his ragged breathing marking and trembling limbs marking the panic he’s feeling.

“Robin,” Eddie murmurs, “hands off. Now.”

She lifts her hand like she’s been burned, looking at Eddie with wide eyes, turning back to Steve when he gasps.

“Steve,” she murmurs. “You’re okay. You gotta take a breath, babe, all the way in and all the way out. Slow and deep, just like swimming.”

“Don’t- don’ wanna-” he manages, shaking his head.

Eddie puts a hand on Robin’s shoulder to keep her quiet. “Steve,” he says, “can you look at me? Follow the sound of my voice, I’ll keep talking until you can look at me. Just a little bit more, you’re doing good, there you go. Hey, recognize me? Eddie? I need you to take a deep breath, okay? It’s gonna be okay. Breathe with me, ready? In… and out. Good, one more. In… and out. You comin’ back a little?”

“Ed- Eddie?”

“That’s me,” Eddie nods. “Take a couple more deep breaths, Steve, come back a little more, ‘kay? Want me to breathe with you?”

Steve nods jerkily, and Eddie smiles. “I can do that. Just a couple more deep breaths, and we’re gonna hold our breath in between, okay? Just like smoking, remember how you hold the smoke in?” He waits for Steve’s nod. “Good. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. Think you can do that?” Steve doesn’t respond, so Eddie says, “Let’s try together, alright? In… hold… out… hold. Two more times, okay?”

By the end of the second time, Steve’s breathing comes easier, and he drops his forehead onto his knees with a groan. “Sorry,” he mumbles, muffled by denim.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Robin says quietly, practically vibrating from her position on the floor next to him. “But we’d like to know what happened. If you wanna tell us.”

He glances at her and extends a hand, smiling at her eagerness when she all but trips over herself—still sitting—to hold it.

He shakes his head, squeezes her fingers, looks away. “Just… stupid, y’know? I was… it was during a party, and I was drunk ‘cause I was an idiot back then, even more so than I am now, and this girl, uh. Well. I thought we were just making out, y’know? Just like… having some fun? But then she started kinda… pushing? And I didn’t really want to, and I said so, but.” He shrugs and huffs a hollow laugh. “And it’s not like she was ugly or anything, so I didn’t really know why I didn’t want to, but. Didn’t matter, in the end, I kinda just… let her lead.” The room is silent until he clears his throat. “And, well. I was King Steve for a reason, right?”

“Steve,” Robin whispers, a heartbroken sob of a thing. “Babe. That’s-”

“Rape,” Argyle finishes, nodding. “Very not-cool.”

“No,” Steve says immediately, shaking his head. “Guys can’t be raped.”

Eddie takes a deep, steadying breath. “Steve.” His voice is controlled, even. “Who told you men can’t be raped?”

Steve blinks a few times, then looks down. “Oh,” he says, his voice so small he’s not sure any sound actually came out. “My dad. I… I was raped?”

Robin sniffles. “Think so, babe.”

He blinks heavily at the couch. Curls his toes. Thinks the fabric is oddly rough. “Oh.”

“Steve,” Nancy whispers. “Is that why you don’t drink?”

He gives her a tight, tired smile. “That, and Tina’s Halloween party.”

Nancy swallows a sob, eyes glassy.

“Steve,” Jonathan says, not continuing until Steve looks at him. “How can we help?”

Steve huffs out a broken almost-laugh. It’s too tearful to be anything close. “I don’t know.”

Robin’s vibrating so much Steve’s almost surprised she hasn’t exploded due to pure kinetic energy yet. He briefly wonders if that’s how it works, and makes an even briefer mental note to ask Dustin about it later. “Robin,” he says instead, and inclines his head, inviting her up.

She’s on his lap practically before he can blink. “I’m so sorry,” she’s saying, face tucked into his neck. “I didn’t know- I asked someone to help get you upstairs, I didn’t think-”

“Robin,” he says, then pauses. “Well. I was gonna say it’s okay, but it’s not. It’ll be okay, maybe. I’ll be okay.” He tugs her closer, hooks his chin over her shoulder. Shifts a little. “How the fuck is your ass bony?”

She giggles, which really is what he’d been going for, and pulls back enough to look at him. “I’m really sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“But I asked-”

“Still not your fault.” He tugs her closer until their foreheads are touching. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go home. Get some sleep. Go to the library tomorrow and do some research. Let me know what you find.”

“Okay.” She burrows back into his neck for a quick hug, and his eyes find Nancy’s over her head.

“Can you take her home?”

Because Nancy is Nancy—that is to say, brilliant—she glances at Eddie for half a second before nodding. “C’mon,” she murmurs, nudging Jonathan, because she came with him and Argyle.

“I’ll head out too,” Eddie says softly, but Steve pins him with a look. After a second, he nods ever-so-slightly and begins slowly cleaning up.

Steve sees them out. “Thanks for coming,” he says. “Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, brochacho,” Argyle says. Steve idly wonders if he’s always half-baked, and how often he smokes to stay that way.

Steve nods in thanks and shuts the door, and then it’s just him and Eddie, who’s given up on pretending to clean and is sitting on the couch.

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs. He collapses onto the other end of the couch, tucks a leg up so he can loop his arms around it and rest his chin on his knee. Eddie copies his position. “And I’m sorry for freaking out on you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Argyle’s right. You don’t need to be sorry. That- what you went through was trauma, same as anything else this shitshow of a town’s thrown at you in the past four years. You don’t need to- you shouldn’t apologize for any of it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, hoping to get a laugh out of Eddie, “I’m not sorry, then.” He gets a barely-there chuckle and resolves to try harder next time.

“Nothing you can think of that’ll help?”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Nah. Already know I’mma have nightmares tonight. ‘S long as I can call someone-”

“You can.”

“Then that’s pretty much it.”

“Pretty much?” Eddie asks, fidgeting after a second. He’s looking Steve’s direction, but won’t quite meet his eye. But he’s smart, so it only takes a second before- “Would it help if I stayed the night?”

Steve’s stomach twists. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Eddie promises. “If it’ll help. I want to.”

Steve takes a breath. Another. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats, and it feels like the first step to healing.

[aroaceleovaldez]

well now seems like a good of a time as any to start preparing

[dorkfruit]

ending off the year with ummmmmm...style practice?

[hollow-grave-diggs]

Did you know roaches can and will eat anything? And that they have multiple eyes? Did you know that roaches have been around for almost 280 billion years? That many roaches are cannibals? Isn’t it all fascinating?

[snowangeldotmp3]

with great power...

(or, the spider-nance au);

Nancy aches. Everywhere, all over, it all aches. There are cuts on her face, her hair is wet from sweat. Dirt and blood—which she’s not a hundred percent sure is hers—streak her cheek, her hair. Her bones ache.

The only thing keeping her from quitting is the rage that burns in her chest. White hot rage that blisters.

Nancy perches in front of the man who tried to kill everyone. Who tried—and nearly succeeded—to kill Robin. Who’s responsible for all of those little girls gone missing, for Eleven. Who’s responsible for nearly tearing the town apart with his ‘scientific genius.’

He stands here in front of her, with a smug smirk tugging at his lips. Nancy clenches her jaw. He thinks he’s won. He thinks she won’t do it. (Nancy has always liked to prove people wrong.)

“Little spider, you’ve lost. You should’ve known better than to come after me.”

Nancy’s stance changes, one leg stretched out, an attack stance. The white-hot rage inside of her speaks, “I know what I got myself into. You should’ve known better, because now all I want to do is kill you myself.”

[nervous-person]

when it comes to seeing michael afton post-sister location designs it always pains me to see him drawn with hair. no hate to anyone its just if you know about decomposition... he would be bald.

[the-quaking-aspen]

Sometimes, you hurt yourself just so you can feel the relief of when you finally allow yourself to not be hurt.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

Today I told a health professional I'm sad all the time and it was verrrry difficult but also overall positive and she has given me some resources for me to try and get better so as much as I believe all the horror stories about being misunderstood or dismissed it doesn't always work out like that so do give it a go talking to someone if you can cause uh this is crazy and I feel like hopeful for the first time since I was like twelve??? so yeah if your brain's a fucked up little gremlin then tell somebody who can help you!!! It's actually a good idea turns out!!!

[bloodsweatandpotato]

As someone who writes/consumes a lot of dark fic (although not non-con), I feel the need to add on to this. (In agreement with the previous person)

People boil down this issue into very black and white sides. Either you think what fiction you interact with accurately reflects your morality, and that means this fiction is inherently dangerous. Or fiction has no bearing on the real world, and can therefore be created/consumed with no critical thought.

It’s really a mix of the two.

What you read or write does not make you a bad person or mean you condone (or secretly want to do) the acts you are read/writing about. If so, every horror or crime fiction writer/enjoyer would be secretly wishing brutal murder and torture upon people. Which… they aren’t.

However, fiction does influence life, and vice versa. What people see in media will influence their perception of the world, and people will draw on their own thoughts and experiences while creating media. This power that fiction holds does not mean we should stop interacting with any uncomfortable or potentially damaging topics all-together.

It just means that you need to sometimes take a step back and think about why you are creating/consuming this media, and how you are interacting with any uncomfortable topics. For example, many people say not to “romanticize” bad things, but what exactly is the difference between romanticizing and simply portraying?

For creators, how are you describing your topic (be it abuse, assault, murder, or mental illness), and does it make sense in the context of the story? Does your creation acknowledge the different aspects of your topic? You by no means need to make an essay on the morality of it, but just being self aware can make a huge difference.

For readers, it is much the same. Think about how the writer is portraying the topic. Do they show bias? Can you trust what they say? What the character/narrative itself is saying? If they do show bias or unreliability (either on purpose or as a flaw) this doesn’t mean you need to stop consuming the media. Simply being aware as you do so can help keep you safe as you read.

Wow this was a long rant… but in all. I just felt the need to it my two cents in. Tldr: fiction does influence reality and your perception of it, but that downs’t mean you shouldn’t interact with “controversial” or “dark” topics. Just make sure to interact critically and understand what the media is saying about the topic(s).

I really think everyone needs to truly internalize this:

Fictional characters are objects.

They are not people. You cannot "objectify" them, because they have no personhood to be deprived of. They have no humanity to be erased. You cannot "disrespect" them, because they are not real.

[mitwodlemi]

(Spoilers for seasons 1-2 of TMA) HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!!

I got hyperfixated on The Magnus Archives back in November and now I can finally post some fanart for it! Here's my season 1 and 2 dump. I have much more stuff for the later seasons, which I will be posting soon hopefully.

Enjoy my drawings of the Eye's special little boy!!!!!

[sbplus-sketchbook]

who is this man and when did i draw him

[northstarscowboyhat]

Justice Family Cuddles ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[lunacias]

(Silence. CARPENTER tries to rally HAYWARD's spirits. She's afraid she's going to lose him.)

"All three of us - we can all go on living, Hayward. Just like you said."