#genuinely this is a hellscape what is happening

[highlyincorrect]

Tonight on “why is supernatural trending again” I find out that Deans rebound fuckbuddy has now in real life shacked up with a werewolf. Many congratulations to the happy couple, tune in at six to find out how Misha Collin’s plans to rate Destiel porn by levels of realism in his next Con appearance

[falinscloaca]

one of the most important aspects to be learnt of being a political thinker online, a passive or active viewer of sociopolitical discourses and marginalization, is that just because you find someone to be “wrong” on a subject, have a bad take on a words definition or have shitty political/strategic takes, or just be fucking annoying to you personally, doesn’t make them stop being from the same marginalized group or group-of-groups as yourself. tragically sometimes a comrade-in-arms also just fucking sucks without it being a cishetero bourgeois psyop or a more-particularly-advantaged-yet-still-marginalized-group punching down. like there can be “self-hating” people from demographics actively trying to oppress said demographics but 9 times out of 10 Kaleb from My Discourses isn’t a Dennis Prager rubbing elbows with literal nazis he’s just that dipshit who thinks Judaism as a social category necessitates matrilineal affiliation (even though the people that actively hate Judaism as a social category don’t conceive of it as such). For example I mean.

this should really go without saying but good fucking god my own time in the ‘strangers with a word or two in common trying to kill each other online’ trenches neeeeded

[bowtiepastabitch]

Oh by the way don't go on twitter rn

[homiro]

It was okay before. It was okay when Bush was elected twice. Yes, more people will die again but when has that stopped happening especially in Muslim countries? It will be okay. It won't be good but it will be okay. Humanity has been fighting and killing each other for millennia. There was I think maybe less than month of peace since 1945.

Remember all the times it was hard and it was okay. Not good, the word really is 'okay'. Remember boarding schools and assimilation. Remember slavery. Remember segregation. Remember Emmett Till. Remember the Civil Rights Movements. Remember that the Native-American Self-determination Act only dates back to 1975. It will be okay. Take this time to reconnect with nature and spirituality. I'm not saying 'go to church' but by all means if that's your creed, go for it. It helps. Even if you're a minority or marginalised and that creed says you're going to hell, I know there are ways to see the original intentions of love and kindness. "Fazer o bem sem olhar a quem" (do good without caring to whom). But now more than ever it's a time to connect with nature and see that there's more than money and greed and the 1% that keep the 99% looking down. Fuck, find strength for an uprising in the power of connecting with nature and your ancestral roots. Even if you're white. White people were indigenous once and that's still in the genes and people forget that. It feels like most people are so removed from the natural ways of human existence that they don't remember anything anymore. Maybe that's why people are so tired and lost and the energy of the world feels so gloom and heavy.

Just some thoughts and more in the tags because I'm a goofy kinda weird tree hugger.

Take care of yourselves. Take care of others. Remember your ancestors. Read about history. Read about spirituality and how good it can be. Don't take my word for it, check Durkheim's theories on the importance of belief in well-being. It doesn't have to be Jesus. It can be that one tree you like to look at. It can be a rainy day or a sunny day. It can be the smell of coffee or something like that. I guess what I'm on about is that for it to be okay you need to find what makes it worthwhile for you.

It will be okay.

it will be okay.

[fuiru]

A 44 year old man goes to a K-Pop Concert

I promised you a report on the K-pop concert that I, a 44-year-old accountant, went to a couple of weeks ago with my wife and daughter in Toronto. So here it is.

The band we saw were Ateez. They're my daughter's favourite band and my wife's second favourite. I know most of my mutuals are similarly aged like me and may not be familiar with them so let me give you a brief primer on Ateez.

Imagine the most attractive eight men you can think of, just unfathomably beautiful specimens of aesthetic perfection, and make them sing songs that somehow combine the subjects of 'dancing like nobody is watching' with 'we live in a dystopian hellscape that we must all work together to overthrow'. Give them an ongoing music video story lore that literally nobody - not even the band themselves - understand, so that online discussion of their visual motifs looks more like the fevered rantings of a conspiracy theorist, complete with speculation about alternate realities and time being a Moebius strip. There is also a giant sand timer, for some reason.

That's Ateez. That's what you need to know.

Now, K-pop concerts are very different to the gigs I've been going to for the last 28 (!) years. There's no support act, for a start. Also the band perform for like, three hours, with breaks for costume changes and interpretive dance. Furthermore, hanging above everything is the constant looming threat of mandatory military service.

So this being my first such concert, I wasn't sure what to expect. What happened was difficult to explain, but I will try as I am already six paragraphs into this write-up and I'm too invested to stop now. Here goes:

In his Wicked + Divine comics series, Kieron Gillen places modern pop icons as deities, feeding upon and gaining strength from the worship of their fans at the altar of musical performance. I thought I understood that metaphor. I thought I understood it AS a metaphor. I was wrong, because that night Ateez WERE Gods with a capital G and we were their worshippers, a crowd emanating adoration (in the religious and non-religious senses), bestowing strength upon them and gaining their strength in return.

If that sounds weird, it probably is. But as pointed out above, I have lived over four decades and never yet experienced anything like the overwhelming passion of that crowd, the utter abandon with which they conveyed their love for the band.

"But Fuiru, what of the actual music?" you ask. Thinking back, there was a moment in one of their songs - I can't remember which - where I watched the stage, and the people around me, taking it in, and I thought, "Man, I just love Music". But that doesn't answer your question, sorry.

Ateez's music is bloody great. As a tiresome indie/rock/metal kid I'm resisting the urge to add the usual tiresome indie/rock/metal caveat of "...for pop music" because honestly that does it a disservice. They have some genuinely amazing songs. Halazia is an absolute fucking masterpiece that descends into furious hardcore breakbeat. Bouncy is a big, brash racket that somehow is also a perfect pop song. Utopia, Wonderland, and Guerrilla are similarly superb. The obligatory boy band slow number is represented by Dancing Like Butterfly Wings which will make you cry because you will forever associate it with your twelve year old daughter being pointed to and waved at by her favourite Ateez member (Seonghwa) because of her Seonghwa-branded lightstick.

That might just be me, though.

So in summary: being a 44 year old dad at his first K-pop concert rules and you should endeavour to partake in the experience if the opportunity arises.

Finally, for any Atiny reading this: my bias would be San or Seonghwa but my wife and daughter said they were taken so it’s Mingi. My concert outfit (designed and created by my offspring) reflects this.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion & Scratch: Compromising for Tav Affection

This idea is entirely from @nairil-daeris and it's so cute!

~

Despite what some may have believed, Astarion wasn't that against associating with animals. He was actually a fan of a few of them, cats mainly considering their penance for cleanliness and independence. Not to mention they were admittedly adorable. And stood as the one type of beast that Astarion never feasted upon.

So no, he didn't hate animals in principle. He only hated a select few, with reason. Like the type that could rip him apart with their claws and fangs. Or the ones that thought that rolling around in their own filth was a worthwhile pastime. All and all, creatures that Astarion didn't have to deal with on the regular. Or at least not until now.

But here he was, stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, with his ragtag group of merry weirdos. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his own acceptance into your little group. He did, immensely. By the look of things out here in this hellscape, he probably would have been murdered ten times over if he had remained alone. Or gods forbid, become a goblin's chew toy.

So while he had no intentions of leaving, he was still frustrated. Especially with the pretty little druid that quickly became their de facto leader. Astarion had been vaguely aware that druids had an intense love for nature and all of its creatures. But that hadn't prepared him for how unreasonable that love could be. It felt as though you would take literally every opportunity you had to speak to any lowly pest on the side of the road.

Not to mention your insistence on taking care of a damned owlbear cub, which was an objectively stupid thing to do. Something that he should have fought you on harder but... he wasn't made of stone. The thing was objectively adorable. Even if it was almost certainly destined to grow up and try to kill you all, Astarion kept his mouth mostly shut.

But then came the dog. That god-damned dog. How a singular mutt could make his life so damn difficult, Astarion wasn't sure. But he did know that he was trying to enact a well-thought out plan. Seduce you, foster a protective affection that was strong enough for you to always want him alive, perhaps use you to defeat Cazador if the parasites proved strong enough, and then effectively abandon you for a new life of freedom.

It was all very simple, and he had gotten a great head start. You had spent the last few weeks flirting with each other, always staying close. You gravitated towards each other, a fact that felt more natural than Astarion would have liked. But... he had found himself enjoying his time with you, genuinely. Not that it mattered, but it was definitely a plus for his plan. Being with you was far from unbearable. You were attractive, sweet, a little angel just begging to be corrupted. A job that Astarion was growing excited to start.

He had been so, so close to fully propositioning you, completely confident that you would agree. And then Scratch happened. He hadn't thought much of it when you came across the little mutt. Maybe it would stay with the corpse of its owner or it would be another hanger-on like the owl bear. He hadn't had a horse in the race either way.

But then he did show up to the camp, looking so sad and dejected that even Astarion couldn't be bothered that his arrival completely interrupted his first attempt at asking you to bed. He had watched you pet and whisper to him for the rest of the night, providing a comfort that only a druid could.

Which was fine. Or at least it had been for that one night. That one night that kept repeating. Because suddenly, that damned dog was everywhere. The quiet nights the two of you had together by the fire, talking about anything and everything with your thighs pressed together now included Scratch squeezing himself into the middle.

The orchestrated moves he would do to make you blush, like removing a non-existent speck from your cheek with his thumb or leaning in close to remove a leaf from your hair, were getting harder and harder to pull off. The damned mongrel was always there, and any attempts Astarion took to get close to you Scratch used as an invitation to jump all over him. If he had it to wash his face of dog slobber one more time from the crime of trying to hold your hand, he was going to go ballistic.

And there was zero reprieve. The thing went with you everywhere, even in the most perilous of situations. Worst of all, it actually proved to be useful. Astarion had no idea where the thing was trained, but it was incredibly smart. Smart enough to serve as a perfect distraction when needed, while being clever and fast enough to never get himself killed. He could even function as a spy, considering how you could make sense of all of his whining and barking. And worst of all, the little beast was amazing at thievery, with nothing more than his mouth. No one suspected the adorable dog to be the one stealing your coin purse right off of your belt. He was completely inconspicuous, perhaps even more so than Astarion. A fact that... was not sitting well.

How on earth was he being outclassed by a fucking dog? One that he had no valid arguments to leave behind at camp.

And to top it all off, you even slept with it. You slept with both animals, usually huddled up in a pile beneath the stars. How you managed to not stink of dog breath and owlbear saliva in the morning, Astarion would never know.

How was he supposed to make you fall for him like this? In the past two weeks since you'd attached yourself completely to the thing, doting on him constantly. He had only managed to sleep with you once. The night of the celebration over the goblin slaughter, and what a lovely night it had been. But that was only because Scratch and the cub had been sufficiently distracted by all of the enamored tiefling children. The next night it was back to the same.

And Astarion was not willing to let the night you had together go as a one night stand. Maybe it wasn't necessary. It had become clear that you cared for him, you cared for all of them. Enough to put yourself in danger for every party member's protection. A strong friendship would probably do him just as good as a romance. But... that didn't feel like enough. He didn't want it to be enough. For reasons that he was not going to start examining now.

No, for now he was just focused on getting past your slobbery bodyguard. But he knew better than to bring it up to you directly. You were far too infatuated with the pup to see his side of things.

Gale had made a singular comment on a slight frustration over having to wait around for Scratch to sniff nearly everything he came into contact with, and that had ended in you giving him a half-hour lecture on the importance of understanding one's surroundings. Shadowheart had mentioned, once, just once, that perhaps it was time to start looking for a more appropriate family for the dog, and that had led to you giving her the cold shoulder for days.

No, if he was going to get more time alone with you Astarion would have to try other means. Which had led him here, swinging back a Potion of Animal Speaking with a grimace. It tasted oddly grassy, like he had just swallowed blended up lawn shavings. But he didn't have time to grouse over the taste, not when you were thoroughly distracted with talking about druid mythology with Halsin, Scratch left conveniently alone to dig holes in the back of camp.

And that was where Astarion was going. Because if he couldn't reason with you, perhaps he could reason with the mutt itself.

Part of him could not quite believe that he had to resort to speaking with a dog to further this relationship, but here he was.

Astarion stopped in front of him, swallowing back a grimace at how the thing was digging dirt directly on his shoes. Instead, he smiled down at it, his voice only slightly strained when he asked, "Can you understand me?"

Scratch stopped his digging, opting to sit and stare up at him, an oddly humanoid voice answering, "Yes."

Huh, so that's how this spell worked. It was a little disconcerting to hear a human voice from a dog's mouth, but he would make do. Astarion cautiously sat next to him, perching on a nearby log as he tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face, "Good. How are you?"

Scratch stared at him, his head cocked, "The dirt tastes good here. I like that."

That was... Astarion didn't know. It was his own fault for trying to make small talk with an animal. He cut straight to the point, "That's great to hear. Now, would you mind doing me a favor tonight?"

Astarion had never had a dog narrow its eyes at him before, but that's exactly what Scratch did, "What is it?"

"Nothing serious," Astarion tried to reassure, "I was just hoping that perhaps you and the cub could sneak off for a night so Tav and I could spend some time together-"

"No," Scratch interrupted circling the ground three times before laying down, his eyes still on Astarion.

"Excuse me?" Astarion shot back, his true annoyance shining straight through his voice, "It's not exactly much to ask for! It's one night-"

"I don't trust you around them," The dog said simply, "I think you're going to hurt them."

Well that was just offensive. Ever since this little brat's arrival Astarion had barely had a chance to drink from you. And the times he did he was perfectly in control. Not including the first time of course.

"I'll have you know that not every vampire is some hellish demon with no self-control," Astarion bit out, only the slightest bit amused at himself for being reduced to defending his own disgusting kind, "And why pray tell, would I hurt one of the only reasons I'm still alive."

Scratch shook his head, one eye closed like this conversation was boring him, "Not that kind of hurt. The inside kind, that makes people cry. I don't want them to cry."

That was-Astarion didn't-how in the hells could a dog see through him that easily?

"I have no intention of hurting them," Astarion lied. Or at least he thought it was a lie. It felt... uncomfortably true when spoken allowed, "I just want to have a little fun, that's all. Don't you think they've earned that?"

"Not with you. You don't like them enough," Scratch sighed, "I like Gale more. Or Wyll. Karlach too. They can have fun with them instead."

That was it. Astarion was going to wring this little shit's neck. But before he could give into his more violent impulses, he could hear your voice, calling out to the current root of all of his problems.

Scratch bounded up, his tail already wagging as he started to trot over. But before he fully did he turned around, giving Astarion a once over, "If you can prove you like them, then I'll consider it."

And just like that he was off, running to your side while leaving a stunned Astarion in his wake. Did... did he just get verbally annihilated by a damn dog? How was he supposed to go on after this? Not to mention he was actually thinking about what the creature said. It sounded like a challenge, one that Astarion was suddenly pissed enough to take up.

If the little shithead wanted sincerity, then he would get it. And that's how Astarion found himself willingly opening up more. Even if it had to be in front of the damn dog. He told you more about Cazador, the horrors and tribulations he had endured through centuries. He told you of his regrets, the things he missed the most about being a mortal. He even told you the truth about that first night that you let him drink from your neck. That... that you were the first. How good it had felt to have what he had been denied for so long. And he was rewarded with his honesty. He got to learn more and more about you in turn. Your family, your home, where you incessant love for nature derived from. He was starting to slowly become a Tav-expert, suddenly hungry for every bit of information that he could procure.

They were long conversations, long enough to last well into the night. And for Astarion to be exhausted enough to just... fall asleep in the first available location. Which just so happened to always be in the pile of creatures you liked to sleep with. Though, Astarion had to admit after experiencing it himself, it was oddly pleasant to be surrounded by the warm, furry little headaches.

As for the two of you, things were slowly progressing in regards to his plan. A plan that he continually kept conveniently forgetting about. You were together now at the least, even if Scratch hardly ever let you have a night alone. But you cuddled and kissed, called each other pet names and the like. And... it was nice. Perhaps even too nice. Because Astarion was starting to... feel things that he'd prefer to not.

He was getting too attached, too close. The idea of sex didn't even seem to matter anymore, let alone the idiocy of trying to convince a dog to help him in that department. He was knowing too much of you, and the fact that he seemed to adore everything he saw only made it worse. And then the two of you managed to kill that demon, getting more and more information about Cazador. You risked so much for him, and were willing to risk so much more. He couldn't take it anymore.

He had told you the next night, everything. His plan, his past, how easy it was to revert back into new tricks. But he didn't want that with you. Maybe he never did. He wanted something real, and by the gods above you wanted the same thing. He had half expected you to dump him completely after that little speech. But... you didn't. Instead you hugged him, comforted him for trying and failing to betray your trust. It was a kindness he didn't deserve, but one that he would gladly accept.

Everything felt easier after that. Yes there were still countless horrors hanging over your heads but... he had you. And with you he was starting to think he could get through anything.

Even Halsin's insistent flirting. He was watching you both now as you helped him nurse a dying sapling to health, his eyes tracking Halsin's every move as he pretended to read. While he trusted you more than anything, fully aware that you would never stray, it didn't stop the paranoia. Just one other aspect of being in a real relationship that he hadn't seen coming. Turns out, it involved being terrified of losing it all. Especially to handsome, bulky elf druids.

But before he could fret over it any longer, he felt a tugging on his pant leg. He glanced down, his brow furrowing when he saw Scratch there, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out.

"What the hell do you want?" Astarion asked, his words completely unmatching his actions as he scratched him behind the ears. Don't get him wrong, he still at least semi-loathed the creature but... he's also not quite sure he would have gotten to this point without his intervention. So a reluctant appreciation for his existence it was.

Scratch continued to paw at his leg, a low whine in his throat as he cocked his head to the right. Astarion followed the motion, only getting more confused when he realized he was trying to point to another potion.

Astarion sighed as he picked it up, “What? You want me to understand a new dressing down speech?”

Scratch continued to wag his tail, letting out a happy bark as a confirmation. As much as Astarion would prefer to not spend an evening getting lectured by a dog, he was more than a little curious to see what he had to say. 

He swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste as he wiped his mouth, “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

"I like you now," Scratch said excitedly, prancing back and forth in front of him, "And they like you too. Do you like them?"

In moments like this, Astarion really did wish he had the heart of stone that he pretended to carry. Because the unexpected approval from a random pup was suddenly making him feel almost teary eyed. Or it was the bitter taste of the potion, but either way the innocent words were making his heart ache pleasantly. 

Astarion swallowed, smiling down at him, “I like them very much. More than anyone before. And I’m starting to think you might not be so bad either.”

Scratch sat in front of him, resting his head in his lap as his tail wagged, a goofy smile on his adorable face, “It’s because I’m a good boy. They tell me so all the time. Are we friends now? We are right?”

“Yeah,” Astarion smiled as he ran a hand through his white coat, his eyes drifting over to you. You were watching them, grinning ear to ear with a hand over your heart, nearly moments away from swooning. He looked back down at the dog, his smile only widening, “We’re going to be great friends.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

A continuation of Bad News First, Eddie. I am absolutely floored by the responses I received, and I will try my best to tag everyone who asked. I know it's not Eddie's part, but chronologically, Wayne's part felt right.

-

Of all the things Wayne’s been called, unobservant isn’t one of them. He’s lived in Hawkins his entire life. He knows who is who, what is what, and to keep his head down and believe there’s a cougar in the woods when he’s told.

So, when Nancy Wheeler shows up, asking questions, Wayne has answers. Is willing to give those answers because he remembers when little Will Byers went missing, and how Nancy and her friends had done more to try and find him than the entire police force of Hawkins. Nancy and her friends always seemed to be in the orbit of whatever terrible thing was happening in Hawkins these last few years.

So, foolishly, terribly, he doesn’t intervene. He thought they were like that Scooby Doo cartoon Eddie used to love; kids solving mysteries. If he’d known the true extent of the horror, he wouldn’t have let those kids go it alone. But he didn’t know then.

-

Still didn’t know the day he pretends to not know who Dustin Henderson is while swapping out Eddie’s missing poster. It’s easier than having to face someone who knows Eddie, someone who had been looking for him but failed to find him.

Until Dustin calls after him. Until Dustin speaks to him. Hands him Eddie’s necklace. Wayne can’t stand anymore, this breaks him. Dustin says he was with him, in the end. Calls Eddie a hero, said people would have loved him had they known him. It’s nothing Wayne doesn’t already know.

Eddie is his hero. He loves Eddie. And if he��d stepped in sooner, chased down these kids and asked just what the fuck was happening, maybe he could have changed the ending of this story.

-

Hawkins explodes into a hellscape days later and Wayne sets out to find Nancy Wheeler. If Eddie gave his life to protect these kids, then Wayne must strive to do no less.

Nancy’s got a good head on her shoulders, willing to accept any help offered. He can see how she’s survived this long. She gets in in touch with Hopper, who introduces him to Doctor Sam Owens and Lt Colonel Jack Sullivan.

-

He doesn’t think it’s fair that the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-old girl.

-

It’s Dustin who tells him the whole story, the night before the end. Either Eleven will win tomorrow, or she won’t, but the outcome gets decided then.

“I’m s-so sorry, Mr. M-Munson. We just… just left him there!” Dustin breaks down crying and Wayne reaches out to him, an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. If Wayne sheds a few tears, too, well. Who can blame him?

“Doctor Owens, a word,” Wayne pulls the man aside after the kids have gone to bed. “Dustin said… my boy is just yards away from our trailer. He didn’t even get out of the park. I understand it’s an all hands on deck situation, but can anyone be spared? Can anyone bring my boy back? I’ll go myself if I have to.”

Doctor Owens, a genuinely kind man, Wayne can tell, has tears filling his eyes just at the request. “Mr. Munson, we will do everything in our power to bring your boy home.”

-

Doctor Owens pays for the headstone. Said it was the least he could do since his team failed. Wayne tries not to be bitter about it.

The graffiti starts up almost immediately. Wayne doesn’t understand why.

-

He thinks he’s caught someone in the act, grabs roughly at the perpetrator and yanks. The Harrington boy stumbles up and back, a little bit of fear in his eyes but no paint in hand. He’s holding a rag and small container of paint thinner. A quick look between Harrington and the grave, he can see the half-cleaned headstone.

He’s never spoken much with Harrington, but Dustin has nothing bad to say.

“You know my boy?” because he can’t bring himself to say ‘knew’ just yet.

Harrington looks just about as haunted as Wayne feels when he says, so quietly, “Not as well as I would have liked, sir.”

-

Wayne is observant, but even he can admit it takes longer than he thought to figure out Steve Harrington. That boy had put himself between those kids and danger again, and again, and again, and lived. Eddie did it once and… well, Wayne reckons Steve thinks it should have been him. He won’t say so out loud, but Wayne sees a lot of his younger self in Steve, knows him in much the same way he knows himself.

Steve lives with a guilt he shouldn’t; this was Eddie’s choice. His reckless, dangerous, courageous choice. And they’ve got to learn to live with it. Steve’s parents are absent, and Wayne’s nephew is gone. Without any conscious decision about it, they’ve adopted each other.

Steve wants to know everything about Eddie. Every little story Wayne can come up with. And he, well, he loves that someone wants to know. Wants to remember Eddie with him.

“Bad news. I regret not knowing him sooner,” Steve confesses to him one day as they scrub the headstone clean again.

“Good news. You know him now,” Wayne replies.

“Do I?”

Wayne can’t answer that. Not honestly one way or another. How well can you know someone from secondhand information? Steve spent a total of five days in his nephew’s company but he helps keep his memory alive. “I don’t know. What I do know is that Eddie Munson won’t be forgotten when I die. And that matters.”

-

He gets in an accident at the plant. He doesn’t remember what happened, not fully, but he knows that Steve never left his side. Demanded his come stay in his big empty house. Easier to move around in, with all the open space.

Wayne wasn’t really attached to his apartment anyway. If he was going to live the rest of his life in a home that had never known Eddie’s presence, it could at least be with someone who had known Eddie’s presence, however briefly.

-

Wayne wonders if he’s done the right thing sometimes. Indulging Steve’s need to know Eddie. At first, he thought it was fine, because learning about Eddie seemed to alleviate Steve’s guilt. But now.

He’s watching the boy fall in love with a ghost.

Helping it happen, even.

Robin and Steve aren’t nearly as quiet or subtle as they think, and Wayne’s observant. They seem to forget that Wayne’s just old, and not deaf and blind.

Or maybe, they’re comfortable enough that they don’t truly hide from him.

And it hurts his heart to think this (because he’s thinking it about his Eddie, wonderful, loving Eddie) but Steve deserves to love more than a ghost.

-

And then the kids graduate. Start to go to college. Steve acts fine, but he’s not. Wayne knows. It’s like he’s losing his purpose, but Wayne’s just as broken. Not strong enough to push Steve away. To make Steve go, too.

Honestly, he’s a little afraid that if he tried, then Steve would follow right after Eddie.

So, he doesn't. He decides he needs Steve, and perhaps even more so, Steve needs him.

-

Then, five years after Eddie’s death, the call happens. It’s about his piece of shit little brother, Wyatt. He’s gotta go, though. Because this is one last strand of Eddie. Eddie’s mother has been gone longer than Eddie, and fuck, Wyatt deserves to know. Wayne doesn’t claim to be a saint; if his brother wasn’t being released, he’d probably never tell him. He’d let him die in that prison believing his son is alive.

He doesn’t even know if Wyatt will care that Eddie’s gone. But he’s got to find out.

Steve drives him to the airport and no matter how many times Wayne says he’s coming back, Steve doesn’t seem to believe him.

-

But it’s not his shitty little brother waiting to greet him in Tennessee. It’s Eleven.

“Sorry for the lie, Mr. Munson,” she says. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I learned but Doctor Owens said that, this one time, we needed to be right before we could be honest.”

It’s Eddie. It’s Eddie Wyatt Munson, who looks at him shyly, almost as if afraid, from the apartment doorway Eleven takes him to. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

It’s five fucking years too late but he pulls Eddie in a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

-

Wayne learns.

They had found him, barely alive. It was better, they said, to take him away. Let the town cool down while Eddie healed, but he was catatonic for the better part of these last five years.

“Eddie woke up empty,” Eleven says softly, apropos nothing sitting next to Wayne as they watch Eddie discuss next steps with Owens. “He could be told to do things. Drink this. Eat that. His eyes never focused on anything. Doctor Owens called him a shell. I asked what that means. He said that Eddie’s body worked, but his mind did not because Eddie was not in his own mind anymore. But I knew he was in there. I had to get him back.” She reaches a hand out, waving in the general direction of Eddie’s head.

This surprises Wayne. “You brought him back?”

“Memory by memory,” Eleven says, picking at her pants leg. “Even the painful ones. Doctor Owens says every memory shapes who we are, even tough ones.”

Wayne looks at Eleven, a young woman of nineteen now, but remembers how scared and brave she’d been at fourteen.  “Words cannot express how thankful I am for you.”

“I did it for you. And maybe a little bit for me.”

Wayne makes a humming noise. Not truly questioning, but an acknowledgment of what she said. If she wants to share her reasons, he won’t stop her. He’s just not going to pry.

“I chose my friend. I chose Max.”

He knows. “You made the right choice.”

“I know. I am not guilty about it,” she frowns as she thinks about her words. “But Dustin is my friend, too, and I knew Eddie was his friend. But I cared more about Max. I had to do all I could to make it right. For you. For Dustin. For me.”

Wayne doesn’t have words, so he just pulls Eleven into a hug. It must convey all he needs because when she pulls back, she beams at him.

-

Wayne fills Eddie in on what has happened as best he can. It’s such a jarring difference, speaking to Eddie about Steve than it had been speaking to Steve about Eddie. Eddie just looks confused for most of it and doesn’t really ask followup questions, but Wayne understands. Eddie had known Steve for five days and he’s got time to really get to know Steve now. Steve thought all he’d ever have of Eddie is someone else’s memories.

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie breaths out, all wonder and awe and- Well, maybe Wayne isn’t as observant as he had always thought. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie stutters over his words, eyes wide and wild. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles and lies, as if he hadn’t just watched all the pieces slot together in this moment.

“So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington?” Eddie is blushing but he blows past Wayne’s question. “Will he… be okay with me being there?”

Steve’s been loving a ghost, is what Wayne thinks. Steve’s been in love with a ghost and this. This is a ghost story that can have a better ending. But he’s not going to make those declarations for Steve, so what he says is, “yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all.”

Eddie smiles to himself, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind.

If he hadn’t just figured it out two minutes ago, that would have been a dead giveaway that his boy might be a little bit in love with Steve.

-

He calls Steve. Tells him he’s coming home and bringing a guest. Steve says that’s fine, he’ll fix up Robin’s old room into a guest room.

-

“This isn’t the way to the Harrington house,” Eddie observes from the passenger seat of the rental car Doctor Owens had paid for, to get them from Indianapolis back to Hawkins.

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed.”

“The cemetery?”

Wayne shrugs, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once. Ah. See, there he is.” Wayne points and Eddie’s eyes follow.

Something akin to wonder passes over Eddie’s face and he all but falls out of the car before it’s even stopped.

Wayne thinks he’ll give them five or so minutes before following.

[pseudophan]

i just wanted to say i've really enjoyed reading everyone's asks about whether they got tickets or not and i'm sorry i havent replied to more of you i just feel like if i post 80 asks in a row about it people might get a little bit fed up. but i love this for you! or sorry that happened! no genuinely for those who didn't get the tickets they want, don't give up just yet i had a friend get the vip ticket they wanted literally two days before the show during ii like it might not happen but it's still possible i assure you. also if your show isn't fully sold out, keep checking it now and then, you never know what might show up

be careful about resell scammers though! make sure you have proof of a ticket existing before buying one. that being said there are a LOT of phannies selling tickets rn so don't just assume everyone is a scammer either. also i know twitter is a hellscape but it's a really good place to find resale tickets, for example twitter user ticketsdan is retweeting a ton of both tickets for sale and people looking for specific tickets, so if you're really desperate for a specific kind you might as well turn on their notifs and hope for the best. the twickets app is also good, several people are already selling tickets on there and more will be eventually

not to pray on anyone's downfall but sometimes people aren't able to go to the show they wanna go to and you can get insanely good tickets like, the day before it's happening. you never know. keep looking!

i actually just wanted to make a post saying sorry for not replying to most people today but unfortunately i'm tipsy so you got all of this instead. it's all good advice though trust me i'm a seasoned professional in the dan and phil tickets game

[xxresi-rotxx]

Harsher ending- pt 2

I did not get a chance to proof read this as I realized the weekend is ending in one hour 😭 I wanted to write the whole thing in one go but had a rough day and this was all I could muster posting ❤️

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since Leon's little outburst, you were barely keeping it together. There were so many emotions swirling around your head it was hard to make sense of them. However, the most recent emotion was anger and it lingered with you longer than the rest.

Who the fuck made Leon Kennedy so high and mighty?

You were sure you were giving Leon the ugliest of looks everytime we glanced back at you & Luis.

Him and Ashley were walking about 10 feet ahead of you and Luis, and he kept glancing back at you every five minutes.

Was he truly that convinced you couldn't handle yourself?

It wasn't until Luis said your name for a second time that you realized you had zoned out again.

"He really got under your skin, eh Señorita?"

You finally tore your eyes away from Leon long enough to glance at the man next you, who was grinning like the Chesire cat.

"I just don't understand-"

"What gives him the right. I know, I know mi amor we've been over this." Luis finished for you.

You felt kind of bad, realizing you had been bothering Luis with it for the past hour. You turned your attention on your feet now; watching them as they trudged through the mud.

"I think he's just concerned for you mi amor." Luis nudged his shoulder into yours, easing the tension.

"Yeah, well he has a funny way of showing it if that's the case."

Luis had been calling you 'Mi Amor' ever since you saved his life, and honestly? You didn't mind it.

"The way I see it," Luis began, "he's kind of like a calabaza."

You just stared at Luis, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't remember my high school Spanish Luis." You teased when you realized he wasn't going to elaborate.

"A calabaza is a pumpkin mi amor."

A pumpkin?

"You lost me Luis."

Luis rolled his eyes at you, scoffing a little to emphasize what a hassle it was for to him to explain it to you.

"Hard skin, soft inside."

You let out a harsh laugh but quickly covered your mouth. You were sure Luis was trying to make a point, but it sounded ridiculous to you.

"Kind of nasty Luis." You nudged him with your shoulder this time.

"You get the point Señorita."

Was Leon genuinely concerned for you? Ever the optimist, you wanted so badly to believe Luis, but you just...didn't.

You'd been gripping the pistol Leon shoved at you so hard your knuckles were turning white. Almost as if you were trying to take your anger out on the gun.

Meanwhile, Leon hadn't stopped dwelling on the interaction ever since it happened. Replaying it over and over in his mind. He couldn't help but keep glancing back at you.

You hadn't said a single word to him in almost a day, avoiding him at all costs; and that bothered him.

The sooner he was out of his hellscape, the sooner he could actually speak to you without fear of your impending death, the better.

Every now and then he would hear Luis call you his love and it irritated the hell out of him. It irritated him just as much that you went along with it.

"MI AMOR," Luis's shouts had Leon turning on a dime, "WAIT!"

He turned just in time to see Luis run off the muddy path and straight towards your sprinting figure.

"Ashley." Leon said locking eyes with the blonde.

She understood immediately, moving to hide out of sight as Leon took off.

Why the fuck would you run away?

Leon caught up to Luis in a matter of minutes. You, however, were no where in sight.

"What the fuck happened Luis?!" Leon bit out, unstrapping his knife from its sheath.

"Are you infected?" Luis asked you, panic in his voice.

"No." Leon answered, the gears already turning in his head. "Y/n?" he asked.

"I saw the veins." Luis responded, out of breath. "My old lab could remove the parasite from her though, she didn't have to run."

"Go back and watch over Ashley, I'll find Y/n."

The tone of Leon's voice told Luis there would be no arguing this, so he did as he was told.

Leon wasn't sure whether he was more concerned for your health right now or pissed that you thought running was the best option.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Smut in part 3😘

[luvyurself]

hate you

for @fishsticksloser dity :D I went a little overboard with it but I hope you like it <3

story chosen: there for my final breath

c/w: she/her pronouns, major character death, bad future timeline, babies first angst story, donnie battles with emotions, he’s coping hardcore, kind of rushed (aka I just saw their post about it and got to writing LMAOO)

to set the vibe listen to this teehee:

———

what was a “successful mission” anymore?

was it really successful when a person you loved was killed in battle?

was it really successful when you wake up screaming from nightmares retelling the events of that day? the universe mocking you in its sick and twisted way, in a way that said, “this is your reality, your world.”

“this is your future.”

death was a concept he had to get used to, as unfortunate as it was, it quickly became a common thing he would have to face when the krang invaded new york city.

from when he was a teen, donnie would swear up and down that he emotions were a wast of time, it being the only thing that he genuinely didn’t get. why do we feel random things that change sporadically with no rhyme or reason? a concept so foreign, yet can be so….how to say….comforting.

like that giddy feeling when he completed an invention, the heart pounding in his chest when he rambled on and on to his brothers about a topic for an hour.

the heart melting and wavy smile he would get when she would kiss his cheek every morning.

she was practically his ray of sunshine in the hellscape of the world he came to know. when he would be planning new inventions to take down the krang, she would be massaging his shoulders with her slightly rough hands, a faint reminder of the change she went through.

they would be in the battle field, back to back as they fight against the enemy, then together in the med bay with stupid smiles on their faces as they sloppily put bandaids on their injuries.

she was there to hold him when raph died, humming a soft song as he silently cried into her shoulder, his hand gripping hers in a tight grip. a silent way he expressed it without sobbing out loud. he never cried out loud, her never sobbed so hard until he physically couldn’t cry anymore.

donnie liked it like that.

no matter how unhealthy it was to bottle up the need to let out his emotions, it was always how he moved on, how he could move on.

but not anymore.

not even now.

it wasn’t supposed to happen, he had it all mapped out. even with her on the mission without him, he had eyes on her from inside his lab. the hologram figure of her stared at him as he banged his fist on the table.

“damn it…” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration. her voice spoke up, a little bit out of breath, “what? what happened?”

his eyes turned to her, a sharp breath escaping his nose, “there’s practically no way to destroy the place, we can’t do nothing.” he looked over disarray sketches of the technodrome, gritting his teeth in anger, “there’s no way of shutting it down without one of those freaks catching you, I’m calling it off.”

tapping on his arm band to send the information to leo, he heard her soft breathing as she spoke up once more. “what about that?”

he looked up once more, seeing where she was located at. he takes a sharp intake of air once he realizes what it was. “the core! ha! of course the kraang have a core on their ship, that will knock them down a leg greatly!”

he turned his back away from the hologram, “once you come back, we can discuss what we found with the others, that way we can be more prepared.”

“donnie.”

“this will help us gain some sort of advantage with that ship gone.”

“don-“

“have I ever tell you about that keen eye, my love? oh I can practically kiss you through the-“

“DONATELLO!” he nearly flinched at his full name, turning back around to face her, a confused look on his face. “what? you can’t blame me for being excited!”

she was quiet for a moment, clearing her voice to speak. “we can’t wait until another time.” her voice was quieter then usual, her eyes staring down at the floor.

an uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach, “what do you mean? we don’t have any available resources right now, we can try again tomorrow-“

“tomorrow isn’t promised, donnie.” she said, looking back at the core, and back at him. “we have an opportunity right now, we have to take it.”

he’s quiet for a moment, before he finally got what she was implying. “no. you’re not doing anything.” his voice was serious, brown furrowed as he pointed at her hologram form.

“you will come back right now. that’s an order, that you will follow.” he couldn’t help his heart racing, the horrible feeling coming over him as she gave him a small smile.

she was always stubborn. selfless. an emotion he never understood from her.

“I am forever grateful that I met you in this life, donatello.” she whispered, her hand slipping the communicator off her wrist, “I love you, so much.”

he felt the world fall silent, watching as she muted and dropped the communicator on the floor. his screams falling on deaf ears as he saw her run to the core of the technodrome.

his chest was hurting, his heart was pounding as he quickly grabbed his battle shell. he hated it. he hated it so much. he wanted it to stop.

he transfer the call with her to his wrist tech, at the same time calling for any available assistance on the front lines to stop her.

“I need all available support to the technodrome’s core room, I repeat-“ he quickly flew to where the technodrome is located.

“I need all available support to the-“

BOOM

he’s quickly knocked down from the sky, landing on the ground as he felt the air knocked out of him. he takes a moment to recover before he looked up at the sky, his breath stopping for a moment.

it’s all gone. the technodrome. she had done it. she had destroyed the whole thing. he looked down at his tech, hearing nothing but static from her end.

then he feels nothing. the sounds of the troops unknowingly celebrating become white noise to him as he felt the unwelcome feeling return.

the tears were silent, teeth gritting as his hands dug into his palms. he felt a hand on his shoulder, and jerked violently away from the touch.

“don?” the voice of leo asked quietly, staring at his face. he looked down at his wrist tech, before speaking up once more, “where’s…what happened?”

donnie couldn’t speak. he couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t do anything.

the only thing that came from his lips was a strangled sob. his hand slapping over his lips as he sobbed violently into his hands.

leo held onto him, not saying anything.

and once more, he was stuck with the feeling that he hated. but this time it was worse. way worse.

he wanted to hate her, he wanted to scold her for making him feel this way. she knew he hated to feel this, but yet, she caused him to feel that and more.

it might hurt less, to hate her for what she did.

but he still loved her for everything she ever did.

and he hated to love her for that.

[eve-was-framed]

okay this is gonna be a bit of a long rant (with some SA and CSA mentions so pls don’t read if that will be too much for you rn) but I’ve been thinking a lot about the “male loneliness epidemic” lately and I have some Thoughts ™

we live in very isolating, depressing and scary times. we live in a hyper-individualistic capitalist hellscape that seems to punish people who need community support. and I truly believe that we as humans should try to help each other out in the ways that we are able to.

but I lose 100% of my empathy for lonely depressed men when they start using their own personal issues as an excuse to peddle ideologies that advocate for rape, pedophilia, child marriage, sexual slavery, and even murder of women and girls. I don’t fucking care how sad you are, if you advocate for other humans beings to be subjected to the cruelest treatment possible then you either need to get serious help or die (and not take anyone with you when you do).

you do not have a fucking paramount on suffering. you are not the only ones who experience loneliness. I know you think women get to just pick and choose whichever romantic partner/friends we want, but that is false, and also being seen as nothing but a sex object by men is so incredibly isolating too. that’s not real love and connection, that’s only being valued for what we can provide for men. so many people feel so alone and it genuinely is a big problem.

I was raised in an extremely misogynistic cult that preaches that grown men are not responsible for anything they do to little girls bc “they’re wired that way.” I had very bad things happen to me before I was even old enough to realize what it meant. and you know what the excuse always is? “well it happened to him when he was younger too so he can’t help that he does it to you.” I learned very early that male suffering is viewed as more important than the suffering they inflict on innocent people. and despite going through this, despite seeing nearly every woman in my life go through something similar, despite all of this, I still would never ever sympathize with any ideology that preaches rape, slavery, sex trafficking, pedophilia, white supremacy, etc. and that doesn’t make me some super hero, it makes me a mildly normal person.

so no, nobody “pushed” you into your evil ideologies, nobody made you do that. if true suffering at the hands of the opposite sex is really the root cause of inceldom then almost every single woman I know would be the most insane incel you’d ever meet in your entire life. but they’re not, even though many of them are lonely and long for true companionship, none of them feel so angry and entitled to it that they want to murder and rape men or little boys. not a single one. the root cause of inceldom is, and always has been, male entitlement. men who were raised to believe the world and every woman in it exists to serve them in some way, but then grew up and realized that actually nobody is owed sex and you don’t get to force women to marry you and have kids, because we are human beings who deserve to be happy too. and this makes them so mad that they start thinking it’s okay to do whatever they want to whoever they want, because after all, nobody on planet earth could ever suffer as much as incels do when a woman tells them no.

I’m fucking sick of it. stop saying “they pushed me to this” and start taking even an ounce of accountability for your deranged, entitled mindset.

[honoviadakai]

Rating the Hazbin crew based on how much I trust them to drive me places 🚗 😈

(This idea comes from @not-just-another-hazbin don’t think I didn’t see your reblog my friend, it’s been making me cackle for a week now 🤣)

Charlie 🏨🎶:

8/10

Oh this is the SAFEST person you could get in a car with

Although

9 times out of 10, she’s probably not the one driving

It would be Razzle and Dazzle

That being said

When she DOES drive, you’re guaranteed to get from point A to point B in one piece

She’s a little too safe though….

She follows all traffic laws to the letter

And that wouldn’t borne a problem…if you guys weren’t in hell

Traffic laws in hell are a suggestion more than anything else

So more often then not, people are yelling slurs and insults at you two

Also, she’s lowkey a s low driver

She refuses to go above 30mph unless absolutely necessary

And that’s usually never with her

So if you have an appointment at 4pm and she’s the one driving you

No you don’t

It’s at 2pm

3pm at latest

She honestly gives off massive “trying to be the cool mom” vibes when driving

But her some slack, it’s the daddy issues that make her give that vibe

Vaggie 🦋🗡️:

8/10

She’s pretty ok at driving tbh

She’s gonna keep you safe and she’s more than capable of navigating you through the hellscape of hell’s roads

But her road rage is insane

Like you’d think someone like Husk has horrible road rage right?

Nah

It’s Vaggie

She genuinely might actually start ramming into people if they’re being truly unreasonably unhinged and threaten your safety

She truly just wants to keep you safe so that’s exactly what she’s gonna do

Just keep your seatbelt on…please

She’s also just not gonna let anyone eat in her car

No exceptions

Alastor🦌📻:

-100/10

Why…oh why in the ever loving FUCK would you get in a car where the RADIO DEMON was behind the wheel!?!

Get out of the car!

NOW!

He’s gonna cause an accident on the freeway on purpose!

And god help you if you say you’re in a hurry!

He’s gonna grove even slower than Charlie!

Like 5MPH kind of slow!

DO. NOT. LET. ALASTOR. DRIVE!

Angel Dust🕷️💕:

6/10

He’s an average driver tbh

Well…

When he’s being chill/sober

He’s pretty good at staying out of trouble and getting you from point A to B in the time you need

Now if he’s having a manic episode or had too much coke….

Please for the love of god buckle up

He’s speeding so fast it makes Sonic the Hedgehog look like a tortoise

He’s there for a good time, not a long time and he wants to see some shit get wrecked

But tbh he might not let you in the car if he’s doing this

He doesn’t care what happens to him

But you?

Your safety matters so much to him…

Thankfully he hasn’t done stuff like that in a long time so for the most part, he’s a good person to go to if you need a ride

Husk🐈‍⬛🥃:

9/10

He’s got the soul of a grumpy old man and he drives like one too

First of all

He’s gonna complain when you ask him to take you anywhere

He’s gonna drive you ofc

But he’s gonna act like you took him away from something important

It was booze

You took him away from his quiet drinking time

How dare you

He’s gonna get you from point A to B as quickly and as safely as he can

Nothing crazy, he just wants to hurry back home with as little chaos happening as possible

Low key I feel like he plays country, blues and/or rock music from around the time he was alive

It’s mostly sad music if you really listen to the lyrics

He honestly doesn’t care if you eat in the car but if you make a mess, he’s making you clean it

It’s honestly like getting a ride from you’re very tired and jaded uncle

Niffty🐞🪡:

-90/19

No

Absolutely not

First of all

Look at her

She’s like 3 ft tall

How is she supposed to reach the pedals or look over the steering wheel????

Second

Even if she was tall enough to drive properly….would you honestly get in the car with her???

The best way I can explain her driving….

And even then…I think she’s 1000 times worse than this guy

She’d tumble it hard enough to make it explode while you’re both still inside

And she’s laugh gleefully….

Just get a cab…it’s much safer

Sir Pentious🐍🥚:

-60/10

Ok

I know he’s capable of piloting his war machine

But piloting a ship and driving a car and very different for him

Ships are easy for him

But cars????

It’s like reading a foreign language to him

You’ll eventually reach your destination sure

But the town you just passed through is somehow on fire

And so is the car

And it’s only being held together by duct tape and prayers…

Just walk

Your chances of coming home in once piece is much higher that way

[thatfilthyanimal]

tw: stalking, grooming, pedophilia, sexual abuse, past suicidal thoughts

I've recently been made aware that Dupsy is still talking about me and is now going to random Megamind fans that don't know me and telling them to avoid me. I'm also aware that they're doing this in the Ruby Gillman fandom. I have no words to really describe the level of discomfort this brings me, but I will attempt.

First of all, all the "grooming" allegations were thoroughly debunked and proven to be bullshit. I can't believe I have to even say this. I'm a victim of grooming and sexual abuse myself. It's extremely traumatic and life-altering shit, and never something I would want to inflict on someone else. I feel like it should be obvious, with the measures I took in the server to ensure no child is exposed to such things. I was recently diagnosed with PTSD due to the shit that happened to me when I was growing up, and between processing that in therapy sessions and stomaching transitioning in a near-constant hostile-to-trans-people online social media hellscape, I am tired.

I love Megamind, more than anything, and this is known and obvious to anyone who's met me. This movie saved my life when I was extremely suicidal and planning to end my life back in 2010. Watching the movie when I did gave me something to focus on, a distraction, and a responsibility as a fandom member that helped distract me long enough to get out of the planning mindset I was in. Had I not seen the movie, I do not think I would have stuck around. I will leave it at that.

And moderating fandom spaces for Megamind has been lovely! I adore this fandom. The people in it are extremely talented and sweet, and just so damn nice, like by default. I say this all the time but I've never experienced another fandom space quite like it. There are usually bad eggs in fandoms, and perhaps -I- am said "bad egg" to some, but genuinely this one is special. I have always felt that way, even when the bad eggs show up and make a stink. It has always felt worth being here for, to me.

And while I hate to give Dupsy the satisfaction of knowing they hurt me, I need to be honest-- it's been rough. I stopped talking in my server, I locked up on most of my friends and stopped talking even in DMs. I still struggle with severe anxiety in the server and have talked to Dal on various occasions about transferring the server ownership to him. He's been very patient with my freakouts and super understanding, but it's still hard. This WAS a place I felt safe, for over ten years! And now it feels like any minor can just say I'm a groomer or a pedo or whatever with ZERO consequences, just because they're mad, just because these are words that make people go "oh shit" and listen, and man! It's not ok! And this coupled with the fact that trans people are often called groomers just for existing, just… man! I'm tired. I'm so tired.

There are real, severe, damaging effects to these claims being thrown around so casually. It's hurtful to me, as a victim of sexual abuse, because when I came forward to people about what happened when -I- was a minor, I was told I "wanted it" and "asked for it". It was made to be my fault that I was abused, and I internalized it for years. It nearly killed me. I cannot stress enough how important it is to not use claims like pedophilia and grooming so lightly-- these are VERY damning terms to use on people and should be reserved for people ACTUALLY HARMING OTHERS. Being mad I banned you from the server is not "abuse" and using my Customer Service Voice to be nice to you and then being obviously tired of you when you were banned is not "emotional grooming". What the actual fuck. ALSO. This was well over a year ago! Why am I still having to post about this? Why are you still TALKING about me? And yet again I ask, where the HELL are your parents?

Anyway, if you've been wondering why I've been so quiet these days and struggling to socialize… honestly? It's this. I hate that this is what did it. I know people trust and believe me, I know the fandom backs me up regularly and I appreciate them all so much for it. I see it, but I never know how to respond. You guys continue to make this fandom feel safe for me even when my entire brain is screaming to run, and I appreciate you so much for it.

Kids deserve to be trusted when they tell people they've been hurt and I hate that the recent proshipping discourse or whatever you want to call it, this culty all-or-nothing shit, has a bunch of minors growing up feeling like EVERYTHING is something to call rapey or predatory, with apparently little room to distinguish when REAL abuse is happening to them. I don't blame anyone for believing Dupsy, and it's honestly better they DO believe all unproven claims of abuse by default, just to stay safe-- but man, it has consequences that follow people, and really should not be a thing to just throw around because you're mad at someone. I just can't believe they're STILL going around and reaching out to strangers telling them to avoid me… like, what the fuck.

I will be ok, I always am eventually, but I needed to say something, because it's honestly been a while since I've said much of anything.

Keep being kind. <3

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 7 - "What happened?"

| Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

Characters: Lawrence, Marshall

For once, I decided to make Lawrence the super emotionally vulnerable one lol.

CW: Parental whumper, stockholm syndrome, nightmares, death (in nightmare), yandere whumper

...

Lawrence woke up with a jolt. He'd been in the middle of a nightmare, but then realized his blankets were tossed onto the floor. His hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face.

He clutched his own beating heart and tried to slow his breaths, which turned to pants as the anxiety gripped his lungs.

It took a few minutes for him to finally calm down. He ran his fingers over his wet cheeks. It had been a while since he had such an awful dream.

He didn't even remember what it was about until he thought of Marshall.

Those green eyes that normally shone so bright were dull in his hellscape of a dream. The light in them was snuffed out, and Lawrence screamed so loud in his dream, his throat felt sore in real life. He scrambled out of bed and hurried into Marshall's bedroom, slamming open the door.

He was expecting to see his boy there, sleeping as restlessly as he usually did, but his bed was empty.

Lawrence froze for just a moment, and then felt back on the verge of a panic attack.

"MARSHALL?!" he cried, racing out of the room and stumbling down the hall so fast he nearly slipped and fell. There was no way, he wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. His nightmare wasn't reality.

He frantically opened the doors, ignoring how loud they slammed into the walls. It didn't matter to him in this moment.

He continued screaming his name, but was interrupted by the sound of the toilet flushing and a door opening. He let out a strangled sound and bolted for the bathroom.

Marshall emerged, rubbing his eyes blearily.

He was just as Lawrence had left him hours earlier: in a loose pajama shirt and sweats, with his thick brown hair tangled from sleep.

Lawrence ignored the puzzled look on Marshall's face as he tackled him into a hug, letting out a choked sob. Marshall tensed, but relaxed in the embrace, patting his back awkwardly. He let Lawrence fuss over him, looking him over for injuries.

"What happened? Am I in trouble? I was just using the bathroom," Marshall anxiously explained. His eyebrows shot up. "Woah, are you crying?"

Lawrence sniffled and pulled away, pressing his palms against Marshall's shoulders. "You're okay. You're okay," he repeated. Marshall was sure he had completely lost his mind. He ran his fingers through Marshall's hair. "God, don't scare me like that ever again, do you hear me? Please, please, never do that again."

"Uhh, okay... sorry." Marshall learnt the best way to avoid getting scolded or worse was to just go along with it. Even if he had no clue what he did. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Yeah... wanna sit on the couch, watch a movie?"

"It's two in the morning."

Lawrence put his arm over his shoulder and led him out of the bathroom. "So? We can make hot cocoa, you love that stuff. And what ever movie you want!" Marshall looked hesitant. "Please, kiddo? I don't want to be alone right now. We can sleep in extra late tomorrow, and I can even bake you those madeleines. And I can even make--"

"Okay, okay! No need to bribe me." Marshall gave him a lopsided smile.

Lawrence returned the smile. He had been so terrified to go to sleep ever again after that. The thought of losing Marshall drove him mad. He couldn't stand the thought of losing his child to anything.

They settled on the couch with their cups of hot cocoa, a warm blanket, and one of Marshall's favorite movies.

Marshall hated to admit it, but he was genuinely worried over his captor. He scooted closer, to lean his head on his shoulder. "Do you wanna talk about it? The nightmare?"

The blond turned his head towards him. He pondered it for a moment. "It was about you." His grip on the mug tightened. "You don't need to hear about it, Marshie. I don't wanna traumatize you."

Marshall resisted the urge to tell him he didn't do a good job at that. "No, I want to. If, um, you're willing to tell me."

"I..." Lawrence trailed off. Marshall didn't know if it was a good idea to press him further or not, but Lawrence then went on, "I don't know the details, but you were hurt. You were crying, and there was a lot of blood. And I couldn't do anything to help you. I just had to watch you--" His voice cracked and he cut himself off. Marshall's eyebrows knitted together. "But then I woke up and you weren't in your room, and I thought maybe that was it, that it had all happened in real life."

"Oh." Marshall stared at the TV screen, not knowing where else to look. It hurt to look at the pain in Lawrence's eyes.

Lawrence wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be listening to this, I'm supposed to be the one comforting you." He laughed, but it came out as more of a strangled sob.

Marshall didn't know what to do. He put his mug down on the coffee table and turned so he could hug him properly, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"I'm okay. See? I'm here with you. Nothing's gonna happen to me. Not if you're watching over me," he reassured. He cringed internally at the words, but he knew that would make Lawrence feel better. And that's what he needed.

"Oh, Marshall." Lawrence embraced him back. He pressed his lips against his temple. "I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that, right? You know how much I love you, don't you?"

He swallowed nervously. "Yeah, I do."

"You're all I have," he murmured. His nails dug into the back of Marshall's neck. "I'm never, ever, going to lose you. You belong here. Right here, in my arms, where you're safe." Lawrence's possessive behavior was no longer scary, it was just plain annoying. It made Marshall's stomach churn. "Where I can protect you. From the bad people out there."

Marshall didn't view Lawrence as a bad person, but misunderstood. He was delusional.

Marshall knew he could be cruel and controlling, but he wasn't some villain from a superhero movie. He was a man with problems and needs, like everyone else.

He didn't believe he had stockholm syndrome... he was just an empathetic person. That's what he kept telling himself.

Lawrence's grip tightened. "You know that, right? And--and if anyone tried to hurt you, I'd kill them. I would. I'd do anything to protect you."

"Yeah, I know. But no one is coming after me, and if they did, then you'd be there to keep me safe." Marshall yawned. He hoped Lawrence would get the hint, and thankfully, he did.

He released Marshall from the crushing hug and sat back again. "Right. I would. Don't forget that. Ever."

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Do I Wanna Know? - Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller x f!reader

Content : smut, minors DNI, loneliness, anxiety/depression, sex, fingering, piv intercourse

Summary : When Joel finds you freshly bandaged and upset, you end up comforting each other in more ways than one.

Word Count : 2.2k

A/N : Gosh I took this and just ran with it. Like and reblogs are always appreciated, and I really hope you enjoy this fic.

You looked at yourself in the mirror of your dingy bathroom. Tears pricked your eyes, and you slammed back the rest of the little bit of alcohol you had left in your glass. You look down at your arm, bandage wrapped tightly. You were so tired. Tired of the end of the world, tired of the constant bandages, tired of the not knowing. And most of all, you were tired of being lonely. 

Not that you didn’t have a few friends and partners, of course you did. But you longed for a deeper connection. You missed having someone to wake up next to, to hold and leave sweet kisses all over their face as a sweet wake-up routine. There was one person that you felt like this about in this hellscape, but he was a friend and you didn’t want to lose him entirely with your ridiculous fantasies about him. You were too busy being his to even think about anyone else, even if you knew it would never happen. 

You trudge to your kitchen, uncorking a bottle of wine and taking a swig from the bottle directly. It was sweet, and stained your lips the faintest bit of red. You press the back of your hand to your forehead, letting out a mirthless laugh at how pathetic you must look right now. At least that was the benefit of solitude. No one to see you in your lowest, most embarrassing moments. You weren’t even sure why you were so upset. You look down at your bandaged arm again, knowing that you got hurt all the time in your business, but this time…this time it felt like something more. Who was there to worry over you when you were hurt? To tell you it would be okay, to kiss you softly and promise to protect you? 

No one was. 

So you sat at your small, recycled kitchen table and drank your wine, humming to yourself. Until there’s a knock at your door. You hesitate slightly. You were already pretty tipsy, and opening the door as a woman who lives alone wasn’t really in your routine. 

You hear the person on the other side of the door call your name. “It’s Joel. Open this damn door, mama.” You swallow at his sometimes-nickname for you, and you stand up slowly, crossing to the door and trying to hide the clear upset on your face. 

The door swings open and Joel says “Hey, there you-” He stops in his tracks, looking at you in disbelief. He’d never seen you like this, and his eyes catch the fresh bandage on your arm. Immediately he’s concerned and he walks in, grabbing your elbow gently and pulling you to the table, right as you swing the door shut again. 

“What happened?” He says, his voice tight, holding your bandaged forearm gently. Your eyes were slightly glassy from the wine and you glance at your bandage. He seemed genuinely upset that you were hurt, but you couldn’t tell if the wine had you imagining things. 

“Some men got me in a skirmish.” You say simply, hand reaching out immediately to grab his arm as he stood up. He stops, looking at you with his brow knit. “Don’t.” 

Your defeated demeanor was starting to worry Joel, and he looked at the half empty wine bottle and then your face. Really looked at your face. He sat slowly down on his cracked pleather dining chair again and moved in so that one of your legs was between his legs. He leaned in towards your face, searching for something. You weren’t sure exactly what. 

“What?” You say, somewhat defensively, trying to look away from him. Joel’s brows have been furrowed this whole time, and to take his intense gaze off of you, you say, “Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

Joel shakes his head. “It’s the middle of the afternoon, mama. Why are you sittin’ here drinkin’ wine with the only light comin’ from the kitchen window?” You duck your head and he leans in further, gently taking your face in his hands and turning you to face him. “You’re really startin’ to get me worryin’. What. Happened?” he punctuated the last phrase, forcing you to look at his face. 

You feel yourself crumple, and you drop your head in your own hands, shoulders shaking violently as you sob. Joel is bewildered. He never wanted to see you like this. Your small frame crying wrenched his heart and all he wanted to do was protect you, hold you. He always thought of you, it was why he had dropped by randomly. Something about your presence comforted him, making his racing mind ease. You were like an anchor for him, and you pulled him back to reality when old, painful memories resurfaced. It was time for him to return the favor. 

You feel his rough, large hands clasp around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. You look up, tears running tracks down your face. You find Joel’s dark eyes on you, and you sniff, something about his expression makes you take pause. 

“I’m so tired, Joel.” You say, and he reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“I know it’s been a lot lately, I know I-”

“No.” You cut him off. “I’m tired of being lonely. Of having no one. Of coming home here and falling asleep with you in my dreams.” You look at him, gauging his reaction. Did you want to know? Did you want to know if he felt the same way about you? 

Joel blinked. He didn’t know what to say to you. Of course, he felt the same way, but his goal was to keep you safe. If he had you, if he held you now, he was afraid that he would become even more overbearing about your safety than he felt like he already was. Fuck it. Just…fuck it. 

He takes your face in his hands again and your breathing picks up, watching his every move. He leans in, his lips connecting to yours. You kiss back at first, but pull back and shove away from him, standing up quickly. Joel follows, stepping close to you again. 

You hold your hand out, and there it is again, his dark brows knitting again. “Don’t. Don’t. I don’t want your pity kiss.” You say vehemently. Joel grabs your hand and pulls you to him, looking down at your face. 

He wipes your tears away gently, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip for a moment. 

“I’ve dreamt about you every day I’ve known you.” He says, as he cradles your face with his hands. You watch his face and you can see he’s being sincere. 

So you do the only thing you can think of, you kiss him. 

Joel kisses back instantly, one hand going to cradle the back of your neck, the other moving to wrap around your waist. You let his tongue enter your mouth, pushing against him slightly to deepen the kiss, and you slide your hands up his chest, gripping lightly at the collar of his shirt. You tug at it, moving backwards towards your couch. Joel follows your lead, laying you gently on the couch, hovering over you so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. 

He finally breaks free of the kiss, looking down at you underneath him. How many times had he dreamt of having you in this exact position? “I never thought you felt the same about me.” He breathes, and you crack a smile since the first time he arrived at your apartment. He continues, “You bring somethin’ out of me. A will…a hope? I guess that would be the word for it.What I’m tryin’ to say is that-” he pauses, uncertain. You run a thumb across his lips and kiss the corner of his mouth encouragingly. “I’m tryin’ to say that I don’t think I can live without you anymore. Every time I convinced myself that you couldn’t feel the same way, I just kept comin’ back to you. I think about you every night and day.”

His eyes settle on you again, and you smile the most genuine smile you’ve managed in weeks. It’s so overwhelmingly beautiful to Joel that he kisses you again, and you feel your breath speeding up. He trails his hands down your body, playing with the waistband of your pants. “Is this okay, darlin’?” He mutters, moving to kiss down your neck. You nod, lifting your ass for him to slide your pants off. The heat at your core was growing, and you hadn’t felt this way, about anybody, for a while. 

Once your pants are off, Joel keeps his lips on you, your neck, shoulders, and finally your lips again. His fingers move your panties aside and he swipes his finger up your sex, finding you slick already. 

“So wet already, mama,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He says, pushing a finger into you, watching your face as you gasp lightly. “That’s right, baby.” He whispers and you whimper slightly as he curls his finger inside you, moving faster and faster as he kisses you, all tongue, sloppy, hungry kisses that you never wanted to end. He lets another of his fingers stroke your bud lightly as he fucks you with his fingers, and you moan loudly. 

“Joel, please, please,” You beg, as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, curling a finger again inside you, and your release happens without your control. Your thighs clench, and you moan his name as he strokes your nub through your high. When you finally come down, legs shaking, you opened your eyes to see Joel looking at you. Your face flushes and you sit up slightly. 

“Joel..” You start, but you stop when Joel moves closer again and wraps his arms around your waist, capturing your lips with his. His fingers toy with your panties and you moan into his mouth slightly, feeling him smile against you. He pulls back, pulling his own pants off. You see the hard bulge in his underwear as he leans over you again, kissing down your neck. You palm his cock, rubbing slightly. He bucks his hips involuntarily and you bite your lips. 

“Joel, I need you.” You moan breathily, and he pulls back to look at your face. He nods slightly, understanding that you meant you needed him in more ways than one. You push his underwear down with your free hand, kissing his neck and shoulder. Having him hold you like this was no longer a distant dream, and you never wanted to let him go. You stroke his cock gently and you hear his breath hitch, and he whispers your name. Your actual name, not a nickname. Somehow, this solidifies for you that he’s yours, and you are his. He reaches down and pulls your hand away, lacing your fingers together. He uses his other hand to grip your waist and slowly push his cock into you, both of you sighing in pleasure as he fills you up and you take all of him. 

“Fuck.” He grunts, starting to move slowly. Agonizingly slowly in and out of your cunt, and you whimper and moan his name. 

“Faster, Joel” you manage, caught in the throes of ecstasy, and he knows exactly what your body needs. He runs a hand up the arm that had your hand holding onto the back of his neck and presses a kiss to your wrist. 

That was all it took for you to come undone again, a shaking, moaning mess. Joel followed suit, whispering affirmations to you all the while. “That’s right mama, I know it feels so good - oh, fuck. Fuck -” He groans, pulling out and letting his seed spill over your stomach. He pants, raising his eyes to meet yours. You smile at him, pulling your shirt off the rest of the way to clean the mess. You toss it across the room, too satiated and cozy to deal with it at the moment. Joel sits up, pulling you with him, and you cross your legs, looking at the handsome man on your couch. 

Joel was intoxicated by your presence, drunk on the noises you made under him. He leans his forehead against yours, his nose rubbing yours slightly. When he pulls back slightly he kisses your bandaged forearm. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m not going to let you feel so alone ever again, okay?” You were still looking down slightly, and you felt him grab your chin and direct you to look at him, thumb running over your cheek gently.  

“Okay?” he says again, and you lean into his touch, nodding. 

“Okay.” You whisper, pulling him in to kiss you again. You did indeed want to know how he felt about you, and feeling his lips against yours had all the pain and loneliness fading away. When Joel pulls back, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and that’s where you sat. Him holding you, both of you finding comfort and solace in the end of the world. 

[blueheronpronouns]

I started making a post with my thoughts about the debate last night, and I'm back to finish it this morning. Here's what I wrote last night:

This really really REALLY showed off the differences between the two of them in so many ways,,,, Harris went for the handshake, he tried to ignore her. Harris looked at him, and he never looked at her or said her name. Harris was mostly clear and concise and rarely interrupted, and he wouldn't SHUT THE FUCK UP. Overall she comes across as much more put together, sane, and articulate than him (mostly because. she is.)

All of the memes that are coming out of it are insane (eating dogs, killing babies, transgender operations on illegal aliens in prison, Trump lusting over Putin/Kim Jong-un, etc.) and I honestly think we need to not ever shut up about them!!! Keep bringing it up!! Keep making fun of all the stupid shit he says!!! Keep highlighting how genuinely crazy he is!! He doesn't get called out on his bullshit enough so we need to!!

I genuinely think he thinks he's still running against Biden,,, yet another thing to add to the "reasons why he's crazy" list.

I strongly disagree with Harris on some points. There were things she said that made me full-body cringe. However, at the end of the day, I'm still voting for her - I'm too scared of what could happen in another Trump term. I think we still need to pressure her on some of her policies, and that we need to break the two party system (but we need to start small with that one; win local elections first!) but I'll still vote for her come November.

Thoughts this morning:

Taylor Swift supporting Harris is actually really huge. I bet voter registration numbers are going to really go up in the next few days.

Can we PLEASE call Harris by her last name or her full name? We refer to every male presidential candidate by their last names, so why do a lot of people still just call her "Kamala"? (it was brought to my attention that this is a branding decision, which honestly makes a lot of sense! Still leaving this point up though as it feels disingenuous to remove it. I'll also continue to call her Harris, but I feel a lot better about people calling her Kamala now)

Damn that debate was insane. Gotta laugh about how insane our politics are or else I'll cry I guess-

it's so funny that he doesn't even want to be associated with vance,,,

Anyways, that's all I wanted to say- shoutout Tumblr for having the funniest memes about that hellscape of a debate!!!