#grab your pitchforks

[lafamilledelioncourt]

BURN IT WITH FIRE. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I DON'T WIKE IT. I DON'T WIKE IT.

[finnicks-elbow]

katniss shoulda just let prim be reaped. she dies anyway, may as well have got to that conclusion sooner

[theatregaymer]

While I'm "on a roll" Let's talk about minors a bit more. ACTUAL minors like the ones so many seem keen on championing and protecting even if they are the ones in the wrong. These folks seem to think minors, regardless of maturity, regardless of experiencing puberty, regardless of upbringing or education, are ALL unable to think, make decisions, act under their own authority. "They're too young to know better." "They can't make this decision." Shut the hell up you idiot. Are you a child behavior psychologist? No? I didn't think so.

As a teenager I was SO curious about sexual activities. My family was religious and I NEVER got a talk about sex, how it was done, what kinks or fetishes were, none of that. The only reason I knew what gay people were was talking with people who were older on forums and yahoo messenger (Yes that existed at the time) My sex ed class in school didn't cover gay sex at all. And as such I didn't realize that my constant thoughts about feet, tickling and boys were because I was gay with a set of fetishes. Learning to control urges and whatnot is part of being a teen approaching adulthood! Let me be clear. I don't talk to minors. The greatest reason for this is not because "Oh no I have to protect them" It's cause I don't trust people these days. I don't trust a kid to not ask me for advice then turn around and call me a fucking groomer or something. Cause of course the cavalry would pile on, just like they are doing to others on this site right now. If a minor approached me for sexual advice, be it about kinks, sex itself, etc. I would likely find some helpful resources and encourage them to read about it. If someone is confident in their knowledge and is informed enough about the subject that they can actually explain things then yeah, I see no problem with them giving someone who trusts them advice. It's not the same thing as roleplaying with them. It's not the same thing as asking for personal information with unsavory expectations. It's someone reaching out for help because they likely don't feel they can get it anywhere else. NOW, I do not mean to diminish the experiences of those who HAVE been taken advantage of by the horrible people who DO exist out there. It's wrong to purposefully seek out actual minors (there's a difference between fiction and reality remember?) for sexual purposes. However I do not believe it gives you the right to judge everyone at the same standard. You have blinders on and you won't see or listen to logic or facts, you only see another person responsible for hurting you. It's unfortunate and sad that you were hurt in such a manner, but don't take that out on people who aren't that kind of person.

At the risk of ranting too long I'll just end with this. If you are a minor and somehow able to read this. Do your research where you can. Ask your parents if you can, it's every bit as awkward for them as it is for you. Don't get your sexual knowledge from fanfics and hentai, though some rare ones are rather informative. Be careful who you talk to, don't just trust anybody and if someone makes you feel uncomfortable, block/report them. And if you're reading this and you think I'm wrong. That's fine, you're allowed to think that. But don't try to come at me swinging, especially behind a cowardly anon picture. I don't have the time in my life to educate you when you clearly don't want to be educated, you just want to be right...when you aren't. So sit down, have a sandwich and a juice box and do YOUR research.

[skrytch]

Well... I'd say the increase from 5 days to 30 is an improvement

Except it Doesn't seem to be working

It’s been months and I’m still fighting this fight

[lex-feldz]

Yall tomorrow is gonna be A DAY. The swiftness have been waiting since midnights dropped, then it was the Eras tour, then it was Ticketmaster, now it’s December 13th. It never stops. I love Taylor Swift— dont get me wrong. I just cannot stand how some of her fans can get. (That goes for all fans of all things as well but her fans have this very special toxicity and hostility to their bites)

[ghostenik]

something something muffins or handrails or whatever

[epickiya722]

I haven't even read the ending and I won't have a full opinion on it until the actual chapter comes out, but from I have seen about "loose ends"... I could imagine that Gege actually wanted to explore more but there are certain reasons that kind of halted that. Similarly, like with MHA's ending.

(I'm sorry but I'm not deciding on just leaks on whether a chapter is good or bad.)

It just feels odd to me. I don't know, it just does.

I think about the overall scheduling and that Gege can't and can do certain things because he does work with other people he has answer to. I wouldn't be surprised if after this, Gege comes out with a statement saying there was a lot he wanted to continue to explore but couldn't due to reasons. There's also Gege's health to consider.

Whether the ending got fumbled or not, again, I don't know. I'm not here defending Gege or making excuses, but putting insight and why the ending possibly became what it is.

Hell, just last year people were upset because how some of the episodes of the anime looked but then it's turns out how the workers literally had to crunch for time and apologized (which I think was just so sad to do because the animation and pacing was fine for me and I know that has to be hard to do with little time to perfect it but some of you couldn't relate but I digress) as if they are actually to blame when they're just employees.

Maybe it is just me but it just seems odd to me.

And I know some people are upset about Gojo. If you are, I'm not holding it against you. I like him, too and yeah, I'm shedding a tear or two.

However, how this fandom acts now compared to before is such major whiplash for me.

Some of you want to throw around "Gege hates Gojo" so much but Gege is the same creator who gave the audience Gojo and a story to understand and yet a lot of people still mischaracterize him and only see him as "a hot character" or "the powerhouse that should come back because how dare he be happy in the afterlife" or "the blue eyed twink".

Actually, I find that some of you probably hate canon Gojo more than Gege supposedly does because of all these different versions that the fandom have conjured up.

The most Gojo did deserve is a funeral after he died and I get being upset if he didn't get that in the story, I would be upset for sure.

But given how much I have seen the fandom act when it comes to Satoru Gojo's character, I'm taking a lot of opinions on "Gege mistreated Gojo's character", the ending and everything else with a very teeny grain of salt. Yeah, be "critical" all you want but it just seems for anything nowadays that's all people want to do without considering other factors.

You can still hate or like something and acknowledge other things that play into why that something is the way it is.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Okay time to get all of tumblr mad at me:

I can't get into the Lucifer love from Hazbin hotel.

That's literally the dude who hates humans enough to start a war in heaven over it. He's hubris and corruption personified. His goal is to prove how trash all of humanity is.

The irony of being portrayed as a 'widdle guy/wet cat' and getting scada of sympathy from fans for it is... Strong.

I think I could buy in more in a setting where they weren't being quite so explicit in their 'canonical' references, but as is?

No, that dude is literally the personification of evil. He's not that messy divorced dad you secretly had the hots for in high school.

“No one on earth has ever been more wrong.”| “You are incorrect.” | “You are mistaken, but I get why.”| “That opinion is Common consensus” | “you are not wrong.” | “You are right and You should say it.” | “F*** the crowd, you are 100% Right.”

It reads like a middle schooler’s revisionist fanfic of Paradise lost.

Though it’s not the first media to inaccurately portray the devil. And it will not be the last.

You could almost argue that it’s a deception crafted by the devil himself.

Religious trauma is a hell of a thing (pun intended)

It’s almost funny how tumblr coded the show is. That people will say anything is good if you put catchy songs on it and make Tumblr sexy men characters.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Why are pitchforks the go-to symbol of mob justice and not scythes? I would imagine a scythe would be a much more effective weapon if all you have at your disposal are peasant farm tools.

[knownangels]

stupid

wc: 2.5k

Xavier follows him out the blast-open door into the courtyard. The hospital was abandoned when the frontline was pushed back, and evacuations spread over this side of the continent. Like the vine-locked graveyard of a picnic space, the land is battle-torn and desolate.

Perfect place for them to meet. Perfect sort of circumstances; upcoming leave for Benji, a longer period of time to spare. Lovely day, really — blue sky, lack of clouds, cool breeze. 

Was perfect. Until one of them had rustled Xavier’s gear wrong, and something unexpected had rolled out.

“Benji—”

He walks faster.

“Benji!” 

When he whirls, Xavier is closer than he thought. They nearly collide. For some reason, the possibility is worse than what reality has just offered. 

Betrayal, says the back of Benji’s skull, his gut instinct, his bitterness. You were right to worry. It was too good to be true.

Xavier stands before him, eyebrows pulled but not much else. Benji realizes that, maybe for the first time they’ve been around one another, Xavier is trying to control his expression. 

He tries not to be hurt by that. There’s so much more to be hurt about. 

That’s what all this was, anyway. A larger plan with a gullible mark. Theft — of a worse sort than Benji previously thought possible.

“It’s not—“

“What it looks like?” Benji finishes.

Xavier’s whole face puckers with the force of his wince. 

“Oh fuck,” Benji barrels on, ignoring him. “I’m so bloody stupid.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Benji snaps. His heart clenches painfully. He winds a shaking hand up into his hair, pets it back until it lays flat. “Fuckin’ hell, you made it so fun.”

Xavier lifts a hand, eyes searching Benji’s face. The hand drops. 

“Makes sense, don’t it?” Benji asks monotonously, gaze locked to a spot just left of Xavier’s ear. He likes the cowlick just there, more curled than the rest of his choppy red. “I mean, me. Didn’t put up much of a fight.” 

Xavier stares at him, face still flush. His anger-locked jaw begins to soften with something; but seeing it, that tiny fragment of — of pity, fuck, if it’s pity he’ll —

Seeing it makes Benji steam hotter. Abnormally so. Suddenly, he hasn’t felt as out of control of his emotions as he had as a teenager. And with that realization comes shame, which makes the anger burn bright, which forces his mouth open. 

“And you? Probably you specifically, wasn’t it?” Benji’s laugh is as far from humor as it could possibly be. “Oh, fuck. I knew.” 

“Knew what? Benji.”

Benji takes a step back. He starts to unravel inside. “I thought you were laying it on thick, yeah? Direct right from the beginning, weren’t you. You’re a shit spy, Xavier, now that I think about it.”

And he was. He was thinking about it, and spiraling, and thinking about it, and—

He swallows hard. What must have been a manic, awful mask of humor slips from him entirely. He is very cold, all of a sudden. 

Iced, Benji takes another step, arms crossing over his chest. Try as he is, suddenly ducking with surrendered hands and worried brow, Xavier cannot pull his eyes from the ground. 

“Fuck away from me.” Benji whispers. Xavier flinches, then freezes in place. He won’t look at that face any longer. 

(can’t)

His eyes burn. He swallows again.

“When I was wounded, probably mortally, just lucky to run into somebody merciful. It’s so stereotypical. Enemy soldier in an alley, Benji? Yeah? Just happens find you, just happens to have the last of his supplies, isn’t that generous, and just happens to need to touch you to save you, what an angel. And smiles like that, because of course he does, mate, and flirts with you, asks about you, just wants you to like him, Benji, you fucking stupid —”

There’s a muffled thud, pain shoots up his hand and wrist and arm and shoulder. Paint that quite nearly wakes him out of it. 

He drops his arm, hand throbbing, heart pumping blood to new bruises. His lungs push the air from his chest to leave his mouth.

His eyes unfocus.

 Benji  stares a particular section of pavement at his feet; about one millimeter from where it begins, it arches in a strange pattern. 

He floats a bit away, then. Or maybe he already had, the second he pulled a cool, familiar sphere of material from Xavier’s pack. 

He feels rather than experiences himself move. His body move, anyway. Lungs push air in and out. Spine bends to lift, bicep contracts to adjust weight. Arm reaches for pack, for gun and holster and (most embarrassing of all) helmet. 

In training, Benji had been a record-breaker for equipment up and off. Something about the routine of all those buckles and belts did a funny thing to his brain, made the time move quicker. He’s training-efficient now; he turns to Xavier within fifteen seconds, to his estimation. Unlike training, he hadn’t been timing himself.

They don’t announce themselves. We sit here and wait for a new hole to be torn in the world. So if you want to be a sitting duck, take your time with the laces. If not, if you want to be a bastard served in a confit, then learn to move your arse quicker. 

Lieutenant, permission to inquire?

Palanivel, don’t make me regret this. 

Thank you LT. Respectfully, sir, you think any of these these ones are cultured enough to get what you mean by a fuckin’ confit?

Benji. Private. 

Sir.

You’re going to get yourself in shit someone won’t let slip, someday.

Benji laughs again. Dull, as he stares Xavier straight-on. He hasn’t got any dignity left, which means he hasn’t enough ego for shame, which means eye contact is as easy as breathing. 

Xavier’s irises look even greener wet at the edges. Such a pretty color that Benji can’t help but admire it, even now. 

“I killed for you,” Benji whispers. He feels his face curls into something ugly.

Xavier makes a breathy noise. He stumbles forward, fingers patting up Benji’s arm to cup his elbow. 

“Benji!“

And Benji does what he hasn’t done this whole time. What he should have done to begin with. 

He moves out of reach. He hopes one day his brain will let go of this particular memory. For now, the expression that falls across Xavier’s face is one that will stick — guilty and glue-like in the pit of his stomach — for awhile. 

Worse, he sticks to the act: he tries. 

“Will you listen to me for a second?” Xavier hisses. His breathing is deep and slow. Benji’s isn’t; even that makes him angry.

“I think I have been, right?” Benji hisses. “Hope you get paid overtime. Or was that all of that punched in?”

“I’m not getting—“ Xavier grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut. “I mean, like. I am, okay, not like that?”

“Right.” Benji laughs. “Right, sorry, you just get paid to kill. Not to lie and — and —”

For a second, fury splits over Xavier’s face. He burns to his hairline, eyes flashing, fists clenched at his side. Still, he doesn’t move into Benji’s created space. 

Then it all drains out.

Benji watches how a hundred little movements point to the sort of…deflating Xavier does then. He wonders how he ever could have believed him in the first place, when he wears everything on his sleeve like that.

“You believe that?” 

Benji turns away. “Mate,” — hates himself for hanging onto that — “stop, alright? You got me. Don’t be a sore winner.” 

“I’m not,” Xavier insists weakly. Throat dry like that, he sounds injured. His mouth twitches into a ghoulish line. It is not, but is trying desperately to be, a smile. 

“This…this is just a massive miscommunication.” 

Benji pushes him aside to go for the discarded pack. He tears through it and then finds Xavier’s tiny heist. 

“A miscommunication. Fuckin’ likely. What’s this? I mean, for all I know this isn’t the first. You’ve been taking. Stealing! The very fuckin’ thing that started this whole shit—”

“You think it’s great back home?” Xavier snarls. “You think you’re the only sad asshole worrying about his family?” His palms slap to his chest. “Fine, if you don’t want to believe me about — about that, believe me when I say I’m not taking it for some higher up.” 

“Oh, you’re bein’ altruistic?” Benji scoffs. “Gonna give it away so somebody can power something they really need, or sell it for cash?” 

“My sister wants to go to school.” Xavier shouts. He gets animated it about it, hands thrown to the sky. “Alright? Fuck you.”

“No, Xavier, fuck you.” Benji brings them nearly chest to chest. “You got all you need, don’t you. That,” he gestures with the sphere. “Intel, I’m sure.” He resists the urge to eave a hand at himself, too. You got that, he thinks, and this.

“I couldn’t be an intel officer if I wanted,” Xavier says heatedly. “I’m not—”

He falls silent. It lingers. 

“What do you do for them?” Benji finally whispers. They’re still close, but they don’t touch. 

Xavier’s head tips forward. His skull knocks dully against Benji’s helmet. 

“Entry and Extraction.” Xavier replies, just as quiet. “I’m a corporal.”

Benji huffs. “Aw, fuck. You’re not helping. That’s either a coincidence, or —”

“Or I was assigned this,” Xavier’s hand closes around the fist Benji makes. They squeeze the sphere together. “To what, fuck with you?”

“I told you troop movements. I talked about people in my company by name.” Benji sways a bit, and Xavier’s lean becomes heavier. His forehead slips to Benji’s shoulder. The strap of his pack can’t be comfortable, but Xavier brushes his face there like a pillow. Stop, Benji wants to tell him, but is unable. 

“You could have been wired this whole time. We know your radios work.” Benji slips a hand up his curved spine, feeling for a wire bulge beneath his shirt. “It’s probably more advanced than that, huh? You wearing a mic, handsome? You been wearing one this whole fuckin’ time?” 

Xavier’s shoulders shake with a dead laugh, too. “Yes.”

Benji smiles despite himself, despite the situation, feeling absolutely mad. “But?” 

“I turn it off when I’m with you.” Xavier still doesn’t touch him, hands limp at his sides. His chin tilts, their noses almost brushing. “Which I get is what somebody would say—”

Benji snorts loudly. Bastard has him going even now. 

“I really, really want to believe you. Fuck, Xavier. You’ve no idea.”

“It’s the truth,” Xavier insists. He sounds so, so sincere. He’s sounded so sincere this whole time. 

Benji swallows. It’s a pit in his throat, now. He pulls his hand free of Xavier’s and then unfurls each pale digit one at a time. Benji puts the radianite into his palm. Pushes it away, into Xavier’s own chest.

“What’s she want to go to school for?”

Xavier blinks at him. “Literature. Total collapse of our fucking world, and Em’s content to read Jane Austen right to the end.”

Benji smiles a little sadly. “Funny she exists over on your end, too. My sister loved Wuthering Heights.” 

“That’s Brontë, Benji. Jesus, get it together.” 

Benji has to escape then. He squirms out of Xavier’s orbit before he crashes to the surface. Xavier lets him go, but it takes the mercenary a moment to stand up straight.  

“Have you got the extra bandages I gave you?” 

“You know they overstock special boys like me, right?” Xavier says, but he kneels and reaches to the pack Benji discarded and holds it open, shows him the spare kit he tucked inside.  

Benji stares down at him. He wants, very badly, to touch Xavier’s boyishly smiling face. 

Believe me, it says up at him. We can go back to kissing and talking and playing stupid card games. Wasn’t that nice? Wasn’t that fun?

Benji reaches up. He touches two fingers briefly to the corner of Xavier’s frowning mouth. 

“Stay away from mine, and I’ll stay away from yours, alright?” Xavier’s eyes stay locked to him as he backs up, towards the hole in the fence. 

“Stay, Benji? Please? We can talk—” But Xavier doesn’t move. Xavier has stopped following. We can talk about it.

You could, Benji thinks. You could talk me into it. I can’t let that happen. I have to get back. 

He turns his back.

I have to confess.

*

Quinn doesn’t rage. He doesn’t act disappointed. He doesn’t discharge Benji right then there, or hang him for treason, or react, really, whatsoever. 

He watches Benji from the other side of his desk on base. Well. Metal folding table, and with more than a few dents. It squeaks when he stands, spreads his palms. 

Benji has lied again. 

He watches Quinn fiddle with the crushed bit of electronics in his palm. Xavier’s tactical mic; Benji had nicked it, a quick slip of his hand into Xavier’s back pocket. He’d plucked it free of the nylon strap. Kept that. Sentimental, even now. 

“This is…manageable.”  

His stomach drops. He clears his throat, trying not to sound worried. “We can track it, sir?”

Quinn laughs. He meanders around the edge of the table slowly. “Naw,” he drawls. “Crushed to all hell like this, not a chance. At least, no ‘verse tech interns to spare. You want to know something funny? Based on our intel, I think it was Wolffe’s team that planted the device that took that corporate office out.” 

Benji swallows. He feels ill. “Civilians. Quinn. I thought—”

“They’re fucking savage beasts.” Quinn says. He kneels down to put both hands on Benji’s knees. “I know it seems like us. I know they seem — familiar. But you have to understand, Benj, that world’s not ours. They’re different. And Wolffe.”

Benji doesn’t meet his gaze until his chin is tilted up. 

“Benji, you’re lucky, alright? That one is a piece of work. Nearly running into him? The fact you could slip him…the fact you even got in close enough to grab this.” He holds up the crushed mic. 

“I was talking on the radio to Officer Katsidis about rendezvous. About movements.” Benji blurts the lie. He blinks what he hopes are sufficiently sad eyes. “I wasn’t secure with the perimeter. I wasn’t careful. Shouldn’t—“

“No.” Quinn says. His palm flattens over Benji’s shoulder. 

“But I—”

“It’s manageable,” Quinn says. “I can deal with it. We can.”

We. 

Benji stares at him. “I saw him leave.”

“I’m not planning on chasing.” Quinn straightens, hands on his knees. “You know about roaches, Benji?” 

They had roaches briefly, when he was a child. He barely remembers, but Saha’s was nine — old enough to pick up weird cleaning compulsions from the experience. 

“A bit, LT.” 

Quinn rounds his desk. He peers out the flapped tent window, across the yard. “They need such tiny amounts of food and water. But they do need it. And once they know where they can find both, they keep coming back.” He looks over his shoulder at Benji. “They’ll even walk over poison traps, empty-headed bastards, until enough of ‘em die.” 

Benji, not for the first time, begins to regret seeking punishment. “Do we have poison traps on hand?” 

Before Quinn fully turns towards the window, obscuring his face, Benji catches the edge of his smile. 

[cubepusher3000]

@faygob0yfriend is literally the Jeff bezos of tumblr he stole my “she butter on my nut til a squash” post. SMH my head.

[forcebookish]

it will literally take a miracle for me to end up liking arkarm more than any of the other boys/ships. like i'm going to like them but i know they'll be at the bottom of my list

[belltherad]

can we really say they game of thrones'd the umbrella academy when it hasn't been good since the first season

[writergirl2011]

The latest chapter of the Umbrella story has been posted, and all I have to say is...

Chapter Summary: Four years ago, Monday morning came. Jaime and Brienne had to return to the real world, and everything between them was shattered by a lie.

[agendratum]

.

[vesemirsexual]

gaetan fans are superior because we are literally losing 24/7 and yet always having a great time ❤️