#fucking help me not think about anything

[bluehairmisfit]

Look okay yall are allowed, expected, even encouraged to ignore everything below the upcoming readmore. I'm only posting this here because I need to rant somewhere that isn't a brick wall, and I don't feel like dumping this in a vent channel for a school club.

(cw friendships and endings, anger, irritation, the things that come along with being autistic around people, etc. Abuse/trauma mentions. Talk of being a shitty friend/shitty person. All that good stuff. Lots of self-deprecation.)

I'm pissed off. I'm not showing it externally because there's just no fucking point to that but I want to do SOMETHING about it at this point and journaling it isn't enough anymore okay. I'm fucking irritated.

Like lemme start off with my high school crush. I have a friend who rants about his high school crush and I'm happy to listen, don't get me wrong, but I so badly want to rant back about mine because I thought we were friends and this person just kinda faded out of my life. And I'm irritated because I reached out and I tried to ask what I did wrong because I'm still very sure it was something I did. I have no clue what. The message containing the plea for information got no response, so I still don't know what I did, but it warranted whispering and pointing and I know that realistically I don't want to be friends or partners with someone like that but it still hurts in my chest when I think about it too hard, so I just have to try really fucking hard not to think of that person, as if I get a fucking choice in it.

And then there's my up-til-recently best friend. Like. There was a lot of shit that went wrong there on both fucking sides. I know this. Painfully-fucking-aware of the role I played. Because admittedly, I did something pretty similar to what my ex-crush did. We had an argument, and neither of us reached out. The thing is that we were both fucking HORRIBLE for each other and I could not do the things this friend wanted me to do without changing a lot of who I am as a person and how I naturally relate to people. I thought for the past two years that I was just an overall bad friend, and in hindsight, I was a bad friend to this specific person. But I have different friends that really like how I perform friendship.

So why the fuck would I sit there breaking someone else and being broken when I could just accept that things would not work out? It's not like I fully withdrew; I didn't break the DM silence, no, but I still liked and shared posts that this friend posted. I still tried in my own way because I was holding out hope that maybe we'd shift to acquaintances for a while and be able to try again later once we both had grown.

IT IS FULLY ON ME FOR NOT COMMUNICATING THIS DESIRE. I'm not saying it's not. But I talked about it in therapy, and I built the skills I would need to have this conversation, and every time I thought I was ready, I saw, vividly, intrusively, how it was likely to end.

And it's definitively, exceptionally selfish of me to say this.

But I decided I'd rather take advantage of the moot point we were at and just let shit happen, for better or worse.

Than to have to speak how I was feeling. And have it out in the open. And hear for the thousandth time what a terrible, shitty friend and person I am.

BUT MORE THAN THAT, the fucking CORE of why I'm pissed off has less to do with either of them (FUCK MICROSOFT FOR JUST GIVING ME A POPUP ABOUT PICTURES SAVED THAT SHOW ME AND MY HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH BTW. FUCK YOU).

The core of why I'm pissed off goes back to my fucking abuser, as everything seems to. Because that's the bitch that got me masking so hard in the first place for the sake of safety and survival and I'm pissed off that I ever fucking had to do that at all. Bullying contributed, yes, but she played such a major role in taking what was already stress-fracturing and just smashed it in finally.

Like I've changed so much about myself over the years, to the point that for a good chuck of late-middle to early-high school, I was a shell of a person. At some point I felt like I was waking up and seeing the people around me in a completely different way. I interacted with my siblings and learned about them as if I'd been away for years and just came back to fully-fledged tweens and teens.

I suppressed and changed and fucking. Ignored the idea of boundaries. To the point that honestly, now-ex-bestie was screwed over by all of this. Because when we became friends I was still so much more broken than I am today and he helped a lot but when shit went wrong it went SO wrong. And I never got the hang of boundaries or communication with him and I don't know why exactly I didn't feel safe but I didn't and I don't think that's entirely his fault.

But like. She fucked me up. I don't know a better way to say it.

And what actually pisses me off, the core thought that led to this entire, rambling, pain-in-the-ass blog post is the idea that I've changed myself so many times and I tried so hard to be what I thought people wanted me to be and I can't do that. I can't continue to do that because I'm fucking miserable, and aside from my partner and the remaining QPP that I haven't pushed away yet somehow, I have maybe three other friends who see me being myself, even as terrified as I was when that started, and embraced that person.

I'm rediscovering things about myself that I hadn't seen or remembered in years, and I'm becoming closer to my core self over time, and I value that greatly, but it should not have taken this much pain and suffering, whether that I've given or received, to get to this point. And I hate it and I regret the shit I've done but I just want to grow from this and move on and my stupid fucking brain sees tiny things and overreacts to them.

So I should be doing homework but instead I'm sitting on Tumblr, writing some fucking blog post trying to excuse everything I've done, to myself and others, to get to this point as if the ends could ever justify the means.

And I said I didn't really want people to read it but that's a lie. I'm just scared that people will finally tell me how terrible of a person I've been for the past 24 years. And confirm every bad thought I've ever had about myself. Because for every part of me that believes I've never deserved it, there's at least one part that believes I earned every single scar that exists on my body and mind.

[shouyuus]

18+, yet more vi-shaped brainrot, mndi

yes so we have all considered rugby/college roommate!vi but have we considered waterpolo/childhood bff!vi.

waterpolo!vi who's constantly at the pool, so much so that her sweat even on her gym days smell like chlorine. who will stand in the lockers with nothing but a towel around her waist, water still dripping down her body, tits out, just texting, grinning down at her phone bc she totally doesn't have post notifs on for your instagram... like who does that, right? but damn, you look cute in the little sundress you wore to brunch last sunday with your friends -- she wonders if you'll tell her about it at lunch later today.

waterpolo!vi who's been friends with you since childhood, and you were the one who go her into swimming because that one summer when you were both eight and your mom signed you up for swim-class, you cried for half and hour bc you said you weren't gonna know anyone there. and vi, being the amazing bff and neighbor that she is, of course, volunteered as tribute. she'd never forgotten how much fun it was to play in the shallows with you after the class had ended, splashing at each other, pretending to have a tea-party, sitting criss-cross at the bottom of the sun-soaked water, how you'd pulled your hair out of the swim-cap and let it halo around you in soft, wispy waves.

waterpolo!vi who definitely hasn't told you that she only applied to this uni (on a sports scholarship bc she knew that'd get her in) bc you said it was your top choice. thankfully, it has one of the better waterpolo teams, so you were ecstatic when you found out. who, by then, has definitely figured out that her affection for you is just a bit more than straight up bff status, but she also don't wanna fuck things up with you so she keeps her mouth shut. and really, she asks herself, what's the difference anyway? i mean, you hadn't even blinked when she brought up wanting to sign up for the same freshman dorms. ("of course we are! what, did you think i'd let anyone else be my roommate? gosh, it's like you don't know me at all!")

waterpolo!vi who tries to give you your own space (having practice every single day helps with that tbh), but can't help when her heart skips a lil every time you text her, or every time you post something on social media. she tells herself that it's okay to text back immediately, you've been friends for so long after all, right? that doesn't make her look weird or desperate? right? right.

waterpolo!vi who honestly still gets off to the memory of the one time the pair of you made out drunkenly at a party in high school -- it had been one of those backyard parties where everyone was drinking fucked up jungle juice and things were already a mess when you got there. but you were always down for a good time, and so was she, but somehow, it'd ended up with the pair of you curled up in a dark corner, your legs slung over her lap, her fingers inching up the hem of your spaghetti strap top, all eager, clumsy lips and needy little moans and the taste of your strawberry-mint glitter lipgloss.

waterpolo!vi who definitely tries a bit harder to show off whenever you come to her games, always checking the stands, her face lighting up whenever she spots you in the crowd, waving at her, cheering whenever she makes a goal. afterwards, she'd find flowers tucked into her locker and the rest of the team snickering at how red she's gotten staring at them before she towel-whips the nearest one and tells them all to shut up.

waterpolo!vi who asks you to come to the gym with her, promises it'll be chill and that she won't work you too hard, but nearly short-circuits when you show up in a pair of lululemon shorts and a sports bra, your hair tugged up into a high ponytail, telling her that you got these super cute stickers from a cafe you went to last week and have been meaning to give one of them to her so your water bottles can match. who makes good on her word of not working you too hard, but she definitely suffers in her own workout that day cause she's too busy watching you do squats (she tells herself its to make sure ur form is good but we all know the truth).

waterpolo!vi who freaks out when, on her birthday, the water polo team texts her and tells her to come to the pool house, alone. she thinks it's just another one of their weird pranks, but when the lights click on and you're standing there behind a massive cake with her name hung up behind you in lurid, bright pink blow up balloons, she freezes. and then a there's champagne popping and spraying at her, completely soaking her tanktop, sticking to her skin. you squeal, laughing as you shake a bottle towards her, grinning so wide she thinks her heart might burst.

"surprise! happy birthday!"

"holy shit -- oh yeah! it's my birthday!"

you roll your eyes, dabbing at some champagne that had gotten on your cheek, glancing at a few of the other girls.

"yeah, that's the thing with birthday's vi, they happen every year. and yet somehow every year, i'm the one that remembers its your birthday."

vi just grins, pulling you in to press a fat, wet kiss to your cheek, making you squirm bc she's literally soaked with champagne still, and a few of the girls on the team smirk in her direction when they make eye contact with her, but she only glares at them before going back to watching you fuss about the cake and how many slices to cut it into.

an idea slithers into her head, a truly insidious idea. but fuck it, it's her birthday, and she deserves to have a little fun (and she doesn't think you'll be too mad at her afterwards), so she inches her hand up till it's cradling the back of your head, then shoves your face into the top layer of the cake. you yelp, jerking back with your mouth wide open, icing smeared across your skin. everyone laughs, but vi only grins and wipes a bit of the sweet cream from your cheek, sucking her thumb into her mouth.

"mm delicious, princess. thanks."

you blink at her for a few seconds before sighing, attempting to wipe a bit more of the cake from your face, and falling into a fit of giggles as well.

"whatever, i guess if it makes you that happy," you say, accepting a few napkins from one of the girls on the team. someone else takes over cutting the cake, and a few un-spilled bottles of champagne are already being poured into red solo cups. "i'm gonna go clean up -- be right back."

vi watches you make for the lockers, but someone shoves her towards you. she turns to find several of her teammates motioning furiously in your direction, mouthing go, you fucker, go!

she teeters for a few seconds before jogging after you.

"hey! i'll -- uh -- i'll come with you. since it's my mess too." she laughs, nudging you with her shoulder as she catches up to you.

waterpolo!vi who has to hold her breath when she's helping you wipe cake icing from your face, running a damp towel down your neck, you tilting your head back to give her better access.

"so, how long've you been planning this?" she asks, if only to say something to break the silence.

"not that long -- like a week or so. the cake took the longest -- i wanted to get it from your favorite place on the edge of town, but they don't do deliveries, so i had to go and get it without you knowing, and then figure out where to hide it --"

"oh is that was the 'emergency study sesh' was that you had to run off to this morning was?"

you grin, sheepish as she pulls back to look you over.

"yeah... but i mean -- as long as you liked it! it was worth it, right?"

"oh i loved it, cupcake," she says, casually bopping your nose as she tosses the towel into the big laundry cart for cleaning. she takes a breath, "you're the best friend a girl could ask for, princess."

and she sees it the, the something flicker across your face, a shadow that darkens your eyes for just a second before you look back up at her.

"uhm... about that --"

"hm?" vi turns so fast her neck almost cricks. fuck.

you're staring at her, and she's staring back. there's a moment, like the held-breath between twirling fan-blades.

"i -- uhm -- damn," you look down at your hands, your cheeks suddenly flooding with color, "i had this whole speech prepped and everything --"

vi plops down on locker bench in front of you, tugging your chin back up.

"c'mon, princess. what is it?"

your eyes catch, and vi feels her stomach flip, her heart crawling up the length of her chest to beat, bleating and desperate, at the back of her throat. she can almost taste the metallic thump of it on her tongue.

"i just -- it's --" you twist your fingers in your lap, "i've been meaning to... to tell you for a while but uhm --"

"tell me what?" fuck, her voice comes out so raspy, so needy. she swallows, trying for her usual nonchalance. "you can tell me anything, y'know that right, cupcake?"

you purse your lips, her words seemingly setting you more and more on edge. she leans forward, mesmerized by the pink plumpness caught beneath your teeth. she swipes her thumb along the corner.

"sorry -- missed a spot..." she pulls back, showing you the tiny smear of icing on her finger.

"i like you," you blurt out, the momentum of the words carrying you forward just a bit, and you're gasping when you jerk back, eyes wide, as if you can't believe you'd just said that out loud.

vi freezes.

"oh."

"sorry that was -- i was gonna tell you later tonight -- i had this whole thing planned but -- ugh, there's even a really nice bottle of wine chilling in the fridge --"

but vi's kissing you, and holy shit -- vi's kissing you. her hand at the back of your neck, her other hand cupping your cheek, and she's pressing you back so hard you almost stumble off the bench, squeaking in surprise when she nearly hauls you to your feet to press you up against one of the lockers, cushioning your head with a palm.

"v-vi? mmngh --" you gasp, lashes fluttering as she licks her way down your neck, sucking a hard hickey into the skin there, her teeth biting down as she fists her fingers in your hair.

"holy shit -- sorry -- just -- you have no idea how long i've wanted this --"

she pulls back, her pupils blown, and for a second, you wonder if she's drunk -- you wonder if you're drunk because what is happening right now -- but then you remember that neither of you have had anything to drink yet.

"y-you have?"

vi groans, pushing back in to mouth at your lips, "yeah -- sh-shoulda told you earlier but --" she tugs at the strap of your dress, reveling in the tiny little gasping sound you make as she nips at your collarbone.

waterpolo!vi who can't believe this is happening right now -- really, she might be dreaming, but even if she is, whatever. it's the best dream she's had in ages, having you whimpering against her in this empty locker, your fingers digging into her back as she rucks up your skirt.

"fuck princess, if you're joking about this you better tell me now because --"

"i -- i'm not violet, i swear if you stop --"

she keens when she tugs aside your panties and feels your wetness collect on her fingers. she grins, pulling back just far enough to catch your eyes -- they're glazed over with want, and so, so soft. it almost makes her pause, almost.

she pushes forward, sinking a finger into you, groaning at the tightness. your head lolls back against the closed lockers and vi takes the chance to admire you -- the soft sweep of your lashes as your eyes flutter closed, the round o of your mouth as you moan, the tiny crease between your eyebrows as pleasure paints itself by strokes across the delicate features of your face.

"yeah? that feel good, princess?"

"mm -- mhm --" you nod, fervently, looking back down with half-lidded eyes, reaching down to pull vi back towards you for a long kiss. you lick into her mouth, rocking your hips down against her hand. she hisses against you, her mind nearly fizzing out at the way you drop your face into her shoulder, hanging onto her for dear life as she fucks you on her fingers.

waterpolo!vi who misses nearly her entire birthday party for fucking her new girlfriend to pieces in the lockers. not like her teammates didn't know -- sound really carries in that locker room. she knows. they know. you only find out later when the pair of you come back to the party, red-faced and way too disheveled, vi looking way too smug.

"have a good time in there?" one of the girls asks.

vi shrugs, "yeah y'know. just had to make sure she was cleaned up properly."

another girl rolls her eyes, "yeah right. and im sure all the screaming was because you were just doing such a thorough job, right."

vi smirks, "i try."

waterpolo!vi who makes a point of coming back from swim practice with her hair still wet, a towel draped around her shoulders, baggy shorts around her hips, a tight white tank, and nothing else, just because she knows it makes you pause, knows it sets you off. grins when she comes home to drop a kiss to your cheek and you look up, only to swallow, eyes raking down her body.

"gonna jump in the shower, wanna join me?"

you crinkle your nose, glancing back at the group project you were trying to finish with some classmates on zoom.

"uhm -- sorry guys -- i gotta go."

"wait what -- we're supposed to finish this tonight --"

"sorry, there's uh --" you glance back at vi, who's smirking, leaning in your doorway, an eyebrow hitched, "i think my girlfriend burnt the toast in the kitchen -- sorry, bye!"

you hang up the zoom call even as vi scoffs.

"really? i burnt the toast one time."

she tugs you to her for a kiss as you try to walk by her towards the bathroom. you grin against her lips.

"yeah, and it set off the fire alarm for the entire building, remember?"

"mm. yeah, whatever," she mumbles, busying herself with tugging off your sweatshirt as the pair of you stumble into the bathroom.

"how was practice?" you ask, as vi kicks the door closed behind you, jerking off her tank with one hand, kicking it away on the tiled floor before advancing on you with a predatory glint in her eyes.

"it was fine. we did passing and man-up drills. nothing too bad -- shoulders are sore though."

"yeah? you wanna massage after this?"

"mm that does sound nice," vi says, twisting on the shower, jerking her head for you to step in, climbing in after you with a soft, satisfied groan as the hot water hits her aching muscles.

"but for right now," she says, twisting you around and pressing a quick kiss to your lips, "why don't you get on your knees for me, pretty? there's just one more thing i want you to take care of for me before that massage."

you lick your lips, kiss her back, before dropping to your knees with a sweet smile.

"ready for your post-workout?" you ask, blinking up at her with your big, innocent eyes, even as your fingers inch up her thighs, coaxing them apart. vi groans, leaning back against the cool shower tiles.

"holy fuck yeah."

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.

It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.

Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?

They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.

The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.

Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.

— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks

“Yeah”

“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”

Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —

Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.

After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.

Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.

He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.

Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.

Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.

What the fuck?

[lefthandarm-man]

Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanoff The Avengers (2012)

matching each others freak

[whoviandoodler]

been thinking about pok a lot again and that moment when riz told him sklonda was dating gorthalax (in some capacity or another) and pok just went quiet for a bit before he wished her well and like. he's riz's father to such a degree that it hurts. he died young, got to paradise and then said, ok time to go back to work, chop chop. and he does take breaks to listen to riz at his grave and he works in a beautiful meadow when he's not down in hell and -literally speaking- he does sit down but metaphorically he keeps on going and going.

and i'm just imagining that- obviously he knows that he's dead, right? but the human* brain is weird in that way where you'll know things, and you might even sit with them and think you've processed them, but then something will hit you out of left field and you'll realize there are so many aspects of the situation you hadn't internalized yet, and i think that one of those aspects for pok was sklonda, or rather all the dimensions in which her life branched off after he died. because with riz he'd always been painfully aware that his kid was growing up and changing, but with sklonda it's a bit more complicated, it's a bit easier to process the grief of being apart from her, purely on an unconscious level, as being away for work. he's working, she's working, she probably tells him about her work and about riz and riz includes his mom in his stories and it's like, oh this is horribly painful, that i can't be there, but in a way he and sklonda share a lot of what they used to when he was working abroad, no matter how far apart- they're always connected by their love for each other and the quiet but omnipresent nuptial tie and the state of being riz's parents.

and then he's suddenly hit with the reality of an area of sklonda's life that hadn't been on his mind before, considering they were happily and monogamously married. truly just a matter of like, this is not a space you occupy anymore, you're fucking dead, until death do us part and all that, and she might still love you but she loves you like a dead husband like a source of grief like the man she once knew not a living partner. and it's neither of their faults, it's purely a tragedy, and he genuinely wishes her the best because he loves her, he doesn't want her to be alone nor does he expect her to be faithful past reason and the vow they made to each other. but the grief of it still really fucking stings, doesn't it?

[ivypond11]

it's been a week and i still haven't recovered </3 so i did a little sketch with this scene between normal and scary because it fucked me up and i need more moments of them comforting and caring for each other

[naivety]

So long as the political and economic system remains intact, voter enfranchisement, though perhaps resisted by overt white supremacists, is still welcomed so long as nothing about the overall political arrangement fundamentally changes. The facade of political equality can occur under violent occupation, but liberation cannot be found in the occupier’s ballot box. In the context of settler colonialism voting is the “civic duty” of maintaining our own oppression. It is intrinsically bound to a strategy of extinguishing our cultural identities and autonomy.

[...]

Since we cannot expect those selected to rule in this system to make decisions that benefit our lands and peoples, we have to do it ourselves. Direct action, or the unmediated expression of individual or collective desire, has always been the most effective means by which we change the conditions of our communities. What do we get out of voting that we cannot directly provide for ourselves and our people? What ways can we organize and make decisions that are in harmony with our diverse lifeways? What ways can the immense amount of material resources and energy focused on persuading people to vote be redirected into services and support that we actually need? What ways can we direct our energy, individually and collectively, into efforts that have immediate impact in our lives and the lives of those around us? This is not only a moral but a practical position and so we embrace our contradictions. We’re not rallying for a perfect prescription for “decolonization” or a multitude of Indigenous Nationalisms, but for a great undoing of the settler colonial project that comprises the United States of America so that we may restore healthy and just relations with Mother Earth and all her beings. Our tendency is towards autonomous anti-colonial struggles that intervene and attack the critical infrastructure that the U.S. and its institutions rest on. Interestingly enough, these are the areas of our homelands under greatest threat by resource colonialism. This is where the system is most prone to rupture, it’s the fragility of colonial power. Our enemies are only as powerful as the infrastructure that sustains them. The brutal result of forced assimilation is that we know our enemies better than they know themselves. What strategies and actions can we devise to make it impossible for this system to govern on stolen land? We aren’t advocating for a state-based solution, redwashed European politic, or some other colonial fantasy of “utopia.” In our rejection of the abstraction of settler colonialism, we don’t aim to seize colonial state power but to abolish it. We seek nothing but total liberation.

Voting Is Not Harm Reduction - An Indigenous Perspective

[hplonesomeart]

Would

(go to one of his theatrical broadway-wannabe concerts or perhaps a late night gameshow comedy hour sketch performance. I’m not too picky I’d be willing to pay money just to see him perform anything period)

Yea I felt like doing something silly in order to break away from the dread of finals week coming up. What can I say? I’m a professional procrastinator. But man oh man it was a good call this time around—I mean just look as this scrumptious masterpiece right here. Time well spent for sure. Genuinely I believe to have cooked with it chat /j

This is a version without the added stars by the way. And the second one is obviously just raw image reference/the original “bereal concert meme” source. I was very tempted to put Puzzles in that same exact outfit—however I decided it would be overly time consuming to make two separate versions. Maybe once finals are over I’ll be able to do that :)

[zours025]

I am not finishing this because im fucking lazy so take this now too okay!!!

Alts and the like under here + One amputee iggy stump (???) warning IDK1!!!11!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[jkriordanverse]

.

[okcoolthanks]

I really liked “I Saw The TV Glow” for a lot of reasons like the lighting and sound design and stuff

But I also really liked it because how similar I felt to it. Like you watch a show you love so much you want to Be In It and all you do is interact with That Show to the point where you start talking like it and you make everything you see like it because you don’t Know anything else

I really liked owens character because of how Stuck he is in his life. He says he doesn’t think about “that stuff” because it makes him feel gross so he doesnt. He takes a job at a place he doesn’t like and when it gets shut down he goes with the manager to the next place also doing a job he hates. When his parents die he lives in the same house he grew up in because he doesn’t want to leave. He had one friend and when she disappeared presumed dead he didn’t do anything but reminiscenced on his time with her and watching the show she helped him watch. You can also see how he starts taking care of himself less after his father died, in the last scenes of the movie he looks like he barely eats or drinks water, he doesn’t do anything but his job. “Years feel like seconds” because he isn’t doing anything of importance he lost everything that he looked forward too

He doesn’t talk above a normal speaking volume until he’s literally DYING and even after he apologizes still out of breath. He’s still dying then. No one responds to his apologies or responded to him when he was screaming

He gets a chance to leave and go with Maddie to The Pink Opaque and he gets scared, he gets a chance to leave with her when he was younger and he gets scared. He’s so unhappy with his life but he doesn’t want to change it because he doesn’t know what else to do

[ibeewashere]

I genuinely cannot describe how deeply DEVASTATED I am about riz being the only one who can take stress tokens for the others. Yes fig is a protector and will fight endlessly for her friends and I love that about her but there is something about the way riz loves his friends. It’s a more subtle kind of love, but just as relentless and passionate and he will take any burden for the people he cares about and bear the weight of it on his shoulders so they don’t have to deal with it without any hesitation. I am ILL.

[remembrancersticky]

So anyway, I really like @moodymisty's custodes oc Valerius Caledon

[stiffyck]

I keep thinking about my scar design and how big the difference between him and tcd scar is.

Tcd scar is a scrawny kid who's clothes are way too big for him and who barely has anything to eat and who's covered in old bandages

Vs current scar who has well fitting clothes and has enough food and isn't malnourished and who's not just surviving but living his life and doing what he wanted

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

couple of mello + near doodles