#i cannot spell ^^

[pokedolls-mizuki-43ds]

i would.... no. i already dress like her.

Pastel alien 🌈⭐️

Kofi

[lycandrophile]

if a trans man talks about the discrimination and violence he faces because he’s a trans man and you say “that’s not because you’re a man, it’s just because you’re trans! you can’t be oppressed for being a man!” you owe him and every other trans man a minimum of $100 each.

you cannot treat our transness and our manhood as two completely separate things. we’re trans because we’re men and men because we’re trans. when we’re oppressed for our transness, we’re being oppressed on the basis of a transition to manhood. our transness and our manhood are inseparably linked. you don’t get to ignore the existence of trans manhood as a unique cohesive position in the hierarchy of gendered oppression just because the concept of a gender-oppressed man doesn’t fit into your current understanding of how those hierarchies work. you don’t get to pick and choose whether you want to address us as trans people or as men based on what you find the most convenient for your worldview in a given situation because we’re always both and there’s nothing contradictory about that.

if a trans man says he’s oppressed on the basis of being a man and the conclusion you take away from that is that trans men can’t be trusted to talk about our own oppression and his intentions must be malicious, you’re just a transphobe. the correct conclusion to take away from that would be that it’s time to update your understanding of gendered oppression because your current way of thinking about it doesn’t apply to an entire group of people. if you immediately get defensive and paint an entire group of trans people as unreliable narrators of their own lives instead, you’re just being transphobic.

if you believe that an oppressed group should get to lead discussions on their own oppression and be believed by default when they talk about how it works, you have to apply that principle to trans men too. we’re not an exception to the rule, you’re just a hypocrite making excuses.

[katsukikitten]

Katsuki who gets so overwhelmed when you sit on his lap while you're making out with him, rocking your hips gently just to readjust before suddenly he has an iron grip on your waist. Rocking you back and forth against his clothed cock because he can feel your burning heat through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Each moan a reward like sugar on his tongue but he knows nothing is sweeter than the taste of your dripping cunt. Faster and faster he moves you until he throws his head back is a gasping groan, a string of hissing curses as he over stimulates himself lap soaked from you and his own spilled seed. It makes his cock sticky and wet, squelching even as he slows you down chasing after your mouth even as you try to hide your face in embarrassment from how easily you came yourself.

And he keeps doing it, over and over making the two of you ruin his expensive jeans because he cannot help how you sound and feel. When he's finally had his fill only then will he take out his throbbing abused cock, sticky with his cum and pin you into the couch to fuck every last thought you have out of that pretty little head

[fuusart]

THE BRAIN ✨

[badangle]

2023: brothers po and mathieu joseph with matching high sticking penalties against each other

2024: mathieu joseph gets into a fight with his younger brother's billet dad kris letang

bonus: "oh yeah? well, your little brother calls me daddy"

also. bonus bonus:

[gampix]

Some class sketches

I swear the way I draw GF changes every few business days

[egophiliac]

starting off with an amuse-bouche of some of my initial favorite bits! y'all, this update was WILD.

[tunemyart]

Other things that make me insane about Agatha/Rio:

the fact that Rio has spent the last three centuries watching Agatha age and change from a teenager to a fully middle-aged woman

the fact that they've spent so much of Agatha's limited lifespan being angry at each other

Rio being so in love with Agatha - perhaps more in love with her the more Agatha tries to run away from her and all she encapsulates (mortality, aging, and death) - that she refuses to let go despite the inevitable end that, as the natural order of all things, she's known is coming from day one

the general metaphor they are about not only self-destructiveness (Agatha being in love with Death), but also fear of aging and death (Death being in love with Agatha and impossible to escape)

the incredible humanity of both of them in such different ways, and what it means for Death in particular to present as a woman, practice as a witch, and be susceptible to something as human as love

Are we still insane about them, y'all? I'm still feeling insane. Just wanting to do a vibe check.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[saturnyukaa]

s4 amalia redesign. as a treat

[fragglez]

what a wonderful day!!!

[shmobugsbrainrot]

klavier would have themed calendars I think

[miss-americanbi]

shout out to all the demons (dyslexic people) who are having the time of their lives trying to spell “ineffable” or “bureaucracy” correctly post good omens 2

[an-spideog]

"it's pronounced kah-HEER" no, it's pronounced cathaoir

"It's pronounced cheer" no, it's pronounced tír

"It's pronounced sow-roo", no it's pronounced samhradh

"it's pronounced BAW-shtock" no, it's pronounced báisteach

"It's pronounced dee-ah gwit, it's pronounced jee-ah gwitch, it's pronounced jee-ah ditch, it's proonunced jee-ah gwit, it's pronounced dee-ah dit it's it's it's", it's pronounced dia duit or dia dhuit

"it's pronounced cul-la saw-v", do you even know what the hyphens are for??

"It's pronounced fram-a drap-a-door-ackta", god help us all

"It's pronounced uvvaka", someone commented this under a video of a child native to the Gaeltacht I'm losing my mind (the child said uibheachaí I think, I would say uibhe)

Irish and English have different sounds, so it's not possible to accurately represent the sounds of Irish using English spelling. This is obvious for what people call "guttural" sounds, like broad ch, you often see some variation of "chock" or "chokh" or "choh" for teach, but obviously english has no way of spelling that sound. It's not just a few sounds though, Irish has like 30 different consonants. Broad b, slender b, broad d, slender d etc.

PLUS, Irish spelling usually tells you how to pronounce words pretty accurately if you understand the rules, so this kind of respelling isn't necessary.

DOUBLE PLUS, different dialects will pronounce words differently, but the spelling will often accurately represent that for all of them. I say samhradh as samhra with a neutral vowel at the end, because that's how -adh is read in munster*, whereas in ulster they would read it as samhrú because that's how -adh is read there.

*for nouns

[emil1863]

you should totally draw masked deuce!! (ace's first mate if you don't know!) i think he'd look good in your style!! :) not forcing ofc!!

I've draw Deuce maybe.. Once? Before... But I've never posted him! He's such an awesome character.

Bonus Ace because I couldn't help myself.

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3