#i have so many i want to do for that campaign

[technofeudalism]

see, this type of comment comes from a common misunderstanding that i can easily clear up for you.

in the past, "elections" (the only political thing you probably do) have typically been won by the "political party" who get the most "votes." despite common belief, "votes" are not some ephemeral concept that you secure like Mario coins. "votes" are typically cast by what we call "people" who have things called "opinions," "thoughts," and "feelings."

historically, the best way to get more of these so called "people" to cast their "votes" for your political party, the chosen "nominee," which in this case is referring to the person at the very top of the paper you fill out every 4 years with a (D) next to their name, is to come up with the best "suggestions" and "policies" that align with the interests of the "people" (aka "voters") you want to convince to like you! where the Democratic party went wrong is that they sadly did not do a good job at convincing more "voters" to like them!

even though there were a lot of these "policies" that they could have adopted to make people like them more, they chose instead to call Dick Cheney a hero (I see you were 0 years old when he was elected vice president, you should google him), campaign with his daughter (just go ahead and google her too), offered Black people lots of awesome cryptocurrency and offered small businesses tax credits!

TL;DR:

the Democrats have what we call "bad policies" that no one want!

i think that the Democrats should have "good policies" that many people want!

i think that's the best way to get more people to vote for you!

Gotta admit the headline is a banger.

[sreegs]

adding a tw for suicide mention

pessimism is going to kill you. earlier in my life, i came extremely close to killing myself because of an obsessive spiral about how bad things are. before that i didnt think i'd make it to 33

pessimism is a defense mechanism. if you feel like you know how bad it is and how bad it's going to be, then you know better. you feel like you're right. it doesn't work that way though, because even if you end up being right, you don't feel better when that happens

it feels impossible to be an optimist, but it's better to try. you don't have to imagine everything will turn out perfect, you just don't have to give in to obsessions over what might go wrong.

shit's bad right now. i cannot say what will happen. i cannot say everything will be ok. but i can tell you that if you hold on you will make it through. i can tell you that no time in the past did everyone give up and roll over and let the world end

people find ways to carve out joy in the worst of times. people find ways to survive. we always do. if the people who came before you did it, so can you.

there's no shortcut to pushing back against pessimism, it took me years of work. lots of little things. finding things you love and things that make you happy to push out the thoughts that lead to obsessive spirals. i'm almost 40 now.

i love my wife, and my friends. i love my little cats. i love to go on walks around the city. i love to cook much more now, i even stopped presuming i'd fuck up a dish that i'm learning. i love to play games with my friends. i love to write my tabletop campaigns. i love to share stupid internet garbage with this guy i worked with briefly and cause psychic damage to him daily for years, so long and so consistently that he forgot to tell me he got married. because that's funny

when i first talked about killing myself to my wife, the first thing she could tell me was "i love you. i want you here". i've had to say that in so many words to some friends recently. so i'm going to sincerely say it to you too:

i love you, and i want you here

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

WILD CHILD KISSES

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem! Summary: Eddie's finally told he'll be graduating, but his spotlight is soon shadowed after a certain event is coming up. Warnings: mentions of drinking, flirting, tears, kissing. A/N: this is also kind of a warning, I am not American/ do not live there, therefore I do not know how your schooling day works, I have searched it up but there is no clear answer that will help me, so I shall continue to set it up the way my school does here in Australia, which is 2 periods, then 20 minute recess, then 1-2 periods, 40 minute lunch, then 1-2 periods.

buckle up, this is a long one. sorry. 7.3k

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Series Masterlist

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Eddie Munson had spent the better part of the last three years sitting in this very chair, staring at the principal’s desk like it was some medieval execution block. He’d been here so many times he had the wood grain of the desk practically memorized. Detentions, lectures, warnings- all of it leading up to the same crushing reality year after year.

But this time? This time was different.

Principal Higgins let out a sigh, rubbing his temple like the news physically pained him to deliver. “Against all odds, Munson, it appears you’ve finally done enough to graduate.”

Eddie blinked. He was sure he’d heard wrong. “What?”

Higgins folded his hands atop his desk. “You passed, Munson. By the skin of your teeth, but you did it. You’ll be getting your diploma with the rest of your class.”

A slow grin spread across Eddie’s face. He slumped forward, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d just been shot. "you're fuckin' with me, right?"

Higgins cut him off with a dry look. “Language, Mister Munson, and no, it mostly came down to us wanting you out, but you passed, so"

Eddie placed a hand over his chest, right where his heart was and faked a tear, wiping it away with his free hand

"I'm flattered, Higgs, really-" he started before the older man huffed, rolling his eyes at the nickname the teen gave him.

"Yes, yes, now go to recess, boy"

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.

He shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over, practically sprinting out the door.

The lady at the front desk of the office looked up at the sound of the door slamming but she visibly relaxed when she saw Eddie's wide smile across his face as he almost skipped through the office.

"Farewell, Linda, you lovely old bat!"

The older woman gasped in offense as Eddie rushed past her, practically spinning her in her chair as he runs down the hall to the cafeteria.

He didn’t care that his boots squeaked against the linoleum, that a couple of freshmen nearly flattened themselves against the lockers to avoid being bulldozed. He had only one thought in his mind:

Tell Hellfire.

By the time he burst into the cafeteria, he was breathless, heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon. Quickly spotting his lost sheep at the Hellfire table, he smiled. The guys were mid-conversation, probably about their next campaign, when Eddie slammed his hands down on the table.

“Guess who's graduating"

For a second, silence.

Then, absolute chaos.

Dustin practically fell out of his chair, Jeff and Gareth erupted into cheers, and Mike started laughing like it was the greatest plot twist in history. Gareth, always the most dramatic, actually leaped onto his seat and threw his hands in the air. “WHAT? NO WAY!”

“I know!” Eddie cackled, throwing his arms up, “I thought I was doomed to haunt this hellhole forever, but lo and behold, miracles do exist!”

The guys pounded on the table, throwing their arms around him, shaking him with excitement. It was loud, ridiculous, everything Eddie could’ve hoped for.

And then, you.

You were smiling at him from across the table, bright-eyed, genuine. Like you were actually proud of him. Not just amused, not just surprised- but really, truly happy.

And without thinking, Eddie turned and hugged you.

It wasn’t like the one-armed, casual side-hugs he’d given other people. No, this was different. He wrapped his arms around you fully, pulling you against his chest, his heart still hammering in exhilaration. You smelled like something sweet- maybe it as your shampoo, maybe something you put on that morning. Either way, it was dizzying.

You were taken back at the hug, not sure where all this came from seen as though everything had been awkward between you today until now.

Your mind was tracing back to the almost-kiss yesterday, it made you nervous and weak in the knees every time you thought about it.

And believe me, you tried so hard to not think about it.

Arms wrapping slowly around his torso, you hugged him back.

For a second, it was just nice. Warm. Familiar in a way that made no sense.

But then it must have hit him. The tension.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, it wasn’t just excitement burning under his skin- it was something else. Something more dangerous.

Reality crashed down, and his arms stiffened. He pulled back, just slightly, just enough to put space between you both- but it was too late. The moment had already stretched just a second too long, crossed into something else.

You blinked up at him, still caught in that moment of pure joy, but it was already shifting. Already becoming something awkward.

Eddie swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands, what to do with himself. His voice came out rough, unsteady. “Uh… sorry.”

And then, before he could look at you again, before he could see whatever expression you were making, he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck like it never happened.

The Hellfire guys were still talking, still cheering, still high on the energy of the moment. None of them had noticed the weird shift between Eddie and you. But you noticed. He knew you did.

You were still standing there, arms now folded over your chest, watching him like you were trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Eddie didn’t want to figure it out. Not right now.

So, he did what he did best.

He played it off.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, forcing a cocky smirk. “Who’s throwing me a graduation party?”

Dustin immediately started rambling about how they had to do something legendary, and just like that, the conversation shifted. The guys took the bait, launching into plans, joking about how Eddie had to go out with a bang.

But across the table, you were still watching him, your gaze unreadable.

And Eddie? He felt like his stomach was in knots.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t just trying to ignore the tension.

He was afraid of what it might mean. 

It made you wonder if he really meant what he said- what he admitted to, last night.

Did he like you? did he really like you?

The bell rang, cutting through the chaos of the cafeteria. Eddie glanced around, the guys still animatedly discussing plans for his "legendary" graduation party, but the noise felt distant now. He glanced back at you, still standing there, arms crossed over your chest, looking like you didn’t know whether to stay or go.

"Guess we better get to class," Eddie muttered, his words a little too casual, though his heart was pounding in his chest. He tried to act like nothing had shifted, but he could feel it. You felt it too. Didn’t you?

You nodded, but the hesitation in your step matched his, like neither of you was quite ready for what came next. You pushed your chair back, and Eddie mirrored your movements, both of you standing awkwardly, not sure if you should say anything else.

The silence stretched between you as you both started walking toward the door. Eddie’s boots clicked on the linoleum, his pace a little faster than normal. He didn’t want to rush, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t keep the anxious energy from bubbling up inside him. Every now and then, he’d glance at you- just a quick look, but long enough to see the way you quickly turned your gaze elsewhere.

And then, he’d steal another glance, the second one always a little longer, like he was trying to figure out if you felt the same tightness in your chest, the same unease that was gnawing at him.

"So… you're finally graduating, huh?" You finally said, your voice a little quieter than usual, like you were trying to convince yourself it wasn’t all just some dream.

“Yeah…” Eddie said with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers trembling slightly. “I still don’t know if I believe it, honestly. It’s like someone’s pulling a prank on me, but… here we are.”

He was trying to make light of it, but the truth was, his chest was full of nerves. What if this- what if everything- was just him imagining it all? His mind kept cycling back to the moment you hugged him. That warmth, that connection, that feeling of having you pressed against him—it wasn’t like anything else.

But what did it mean? Was it just excitement, or was it something more? Was it possible that you felt the same way?

Eddie couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at you again, and this time, when his eyes met yours, his breath caught. For just a fraction of a second, everything in him wanted to step closer, to close the gap, but he held back. He couldn’t push it. He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was yet.

You weren’t looking at him anymore. Instead, your eyes were fixed straight ahead, but Eddie could see the subtle way your lips pressed together, like you were thinking about something, something important. He felt a pang in his chest, the realization that you might not be as sure about all of this as he was.

Your voice broke through his thoughts again. “I’m glad you are, though, took you long enough”

Eddie blinked, surprised. The way you said it, your tone so genuine, it made his heartbeat even faster. It felt like you were saying more than just what you meant, like there was something else there, something he had to pull out of you, but he didn’t know how.

He offered a small, sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah… I’m glad too.”

There it was. That moment when everything felt like it was about to tip over the edge. Eddie didn’t know what to do with the way his pulse was racing, the way his thoughts kept spiraling back to you, to what had happened at the table, to everything that might happen next. What was he supposed to say? What if you didn’t feel the same way?

The hallway felt strangely smaller now, like the space between you both had been shrinking with every step, and Eddie had no idea how to fix it.

You were still walking beside him, your steps so quiet compared to his, but every time he glanced over, your eyes seemed to flick back to him before you quickly turned away. He could tell you were nervous, just as unsure as he was. And that made it worse, because if you were thinking the same things he was, then what?

He couldn’t just keep pretending like it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t keep pretending that every time you looked at him, his heart didn’t race.

The classroom door loomed ahead, and you both hesitated before stepping through, but Eddie didn’t want to stop walking. He didn’t want the moment to end. He didn’t want to face the reality that he might be the only one who felt this strange, burning thing between you two.

He followed you into the classroom, taking his seat beside you. There was still too much space between you both. It wasn’t enough to feel close, but it was too much to ignore. Every glance, every shift in position made his stomach twist in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And every time his eyes met yours, all he could think was: Does she know? Does she feel it too? Or am I just reading too much into this?

You met his gaze once more, and for a split second, everything seemed to pause- his heart in his throat, your eyes wide with something unreadable. And then the moment passed, just like that, leaving Eddie both relieved and disappointed all at once.

He smiled awkwardly, looking away, trying to focus on anything but how badly he wanted to say something, anything, that could break the silence that was threatening to crush him.

But for now, neither of you spoke. And Eddie wondered if maybe he was the only one who was brave enough to admit it.

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Third period zoomed past, you and Eddie making a few comments on the work here and there, but it was mostly laid back as the end of school was only a week away, teachers slacking off and letting the kids do whatever.

The hallway erupted with noise as students spilled into the corridors. You and Eddie stepped out together, moving in the same direction toward the cafeteria. Neither of you spoke at first. You had walked with Eddie plenty of times before, but today, it felt different- charged with something unspoken.

The walls were lined with prom posters, bright colors and glitter catching the fluorescent light as you passed. PROM: A NIGHT TO REMEMBER! in bold letters, surrounded by stars and hearts.

You frowned at first, knowing that all these decorations were not up an hour when you entered this class. So, there had to be a handful of people to decorate every hall and corridor in an hour.

Prom, yes, everyone was already talking about, for at least 2 months now, but these decorations make everyone's eyes light up and smile-

But your stomach twisted. You could feel Eddie glance at you, but by the time you turned to meet his eyes, he was already looking away.

He was acting weird. But so were you.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. Would he ask you? He had confessed yesterday, hadn’t he? It wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some drunken mistake. He liked you. So why hadn’t he said anything about prom?

You stole another glance at him, catching the way he ran a hand through his curls, looking everywhere but at you. The usual easy-going, over-the-top Eddie Munson was nowhere to be found. Instead, the boy walking next to you was fidgety, lost in thought.

And truthfully? So were you.

Maybe he doesn’t like me after all.

The idea had been creeping into your mind all morning. If he really wanted to go with you, wouldn’t he have asked by now? Maybe the almost-kiss yesterday didn’t mean anything to him. Maybe he regretted telling you how he felt. Maybe he just said it because he thought you needed to hear it.

You felt something heavy settle in your chest.

Eddie, meanwhile, was caught in his own storm of thoughts. He wanted to ask you. Hell, he’d spent all morning thinking about it, trying to work up the nerve. But the words never made it past his lips.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.

She wouldn’t want to go with me.

You were you, and he was him. The town freak. The guy everyone whispered about in the halls, the one teachers sighed over, the one the jocks mocked for sport. What would it look like if you showed up at prom with him? What would people say about you?

Besides, if you did like him- if you really liked him- you would’ve said something by now. Right? You would have said so yesterday, when he told you. You wouldn’t just sit there, waiting. You would’ve told him.

Which meant you didn’t.

And that was that.

So he stayed quiet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as the two of you pushed through the cafeteria doors.

The Hellfire table was already buzzing with conversation. The usual chaos of lunch was in full swing- trays clattering, voices overlapping- but today, there was one subject dominating the table: prom.

"Okay, but hear me out," Dustin was saying, practically bouncing in his seat. "I think prom could actually be cool if they had, like, a real band instead of some cheesy DJ."

"You can’t even go, Henderson," Gareth pointed out, rolling his eyes. "You’re a freshman. None of us are seniors except Eddie and Jeff"

That was when Dustin’s eyes landed on the two of you. A slow, knowing grin stretched across his face. "Speaking of which-" he turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did Eddie ask you to prom?"

The words hit you like a slap.

Your heart leaped into your throat, cheeks flushing with heat. It was such a sudden question, so blunt, that for half a second, you couldn’t even react. Your eyes darted to Eddie on instinct, searching for something- some sign of an answer, some confirmation that, yes, of course he was going to ask you-

But Eddie wasn’t looking at you.

He was staring at Dustin like the kid had just lit a stick of dynamite and tossed it onto the table. His face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.

"No!" he blurted, voice cracking slightly. "No, I-uh-no, I didn’t-"

He was stammering.

The breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipped out in a quiet exhale, and something cold settled in your stomach.

Oh.

The disappointment hit you harder than expected, like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Dustin, completely oblivious, laughed. "Dude, why not? You like her, right?"

You froze.

Eddie froze.

The table went quiet.

Eddie let out a strangled laugh, running a hand down his face. "Henderson-shut up." His voice was strained, panicked.

Dustin blinked, confused for half a second before realization dawned on his face. "Oh." His eyes widened slightly. "Wait, she doesn’t know?"

You felt your breath hitch.

Oh, you know, you just didn't know anyone else- the whole of Hellfire- knew.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath before turning to you, finally meeting your gaze.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His confession from yesterday flashed in your mind. You knew he liked you. He had told you. So why was he acting like this? Why was he shutting it down like it wasn’t even an option?

The way he was looking at you- like he knew he just messed up, like he knew you were hurt but didn’t know how to fix it- made your stomach twist even more.

You swallowed hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you pushed your chair back. "I’m gonna grab some lunch."

Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

You didn’t wait for a response. You just stood up and walked away.

You heard Eddie shift beside you, like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

Because what could he say?

The noise of the cafeteria faded into background static as you moved toward the lunch line, your mind racing.

You had thought- hoped- maybe he would ask. Maybe last night meant something. Maybe he meant it when he said he liked you.

But now? Now you weren’t sure anymore.

And Eddie- Eddie just sat there, staring after you, hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

He wanted to go with you. God, he wanted to.

But he had a feeling he just ruined everything.

And the worst part?

He had no idea how to fix it.

By the time you returned to the Hellfire table, tray in hand, the conversation had fizzled out. The guys had sensed the shift in energy- how the excitement over prom had suddenly turned into something way more awkward-

And one by one, they had made their exits. Even Dustin, who normally lacked any kind of social awareness, had mumbled something about needing to grab a book from his locker before practically running off.

So now, it was just you and Eddie.

Alone.

He was still sitting in the same spot, hunched forward with his arms resting on the table, fingers tapping restlessly against the wood. You sat down across from him, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at the sight of him- how his usual confidence had been drained from his posture, how his brows were slightly furrowed like he was deep in thought.

For a minute, neither of you spoke.

You focused on your tray, picking at your food without really eating. You could feel Eddie watching you, could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he struggled for the right words.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Uh- so- " He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a sharp breath. "That was… a whole thing, huh?"

You didn’t look up. "Yep."

Eddie winced at your clipped tone. He hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Look, Dustin’s just- he’s an idiot, alright? He doesn’t know when to shut up."

You shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "I don’t care."

Eddie blinked, caught off guard by how casual you sounded. He had expected you to be mad, or embarrassed, or something- but not this. Not this calm, unaffected brush-off.

"You don’t care?" He repeated slowly, testing the words like they didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," you said simply, finally looking up. "I mean, it’s not like I wanted to go with you anyway."

That was a lie.

But the words came out so easily. So effortlessly. Like they were true.

Eddie barely had time to mask his reaction.

It was quick- just a flicker of something in his expression, something unguarded and sharp, like your words had landed right where it hurt.

He covered it up almost instantly, forcing a chuckle as he leaned back in his seat. "Right," he said, nodding. "Of course. Why would you, right?"

You could tell he was trying to play it off, trying to act like it didn’t matter.

But you knew Eddie well enough to know when something did matter.

And this?

This did.

But you didn’t take it back.

You just smiled, small and polite, before returning your attention to your tray.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, his fingers still tapping anxiously against the table.

Then, with a barely audible sigh, he slumped back against his chair, staring up at the ceiling like he had just royally screwed up.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had.

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The parking lot was loud with the usual after-school chaos- cars starting up, doors slamming, groups of students lingering to chat before heading home.

Eddie stood by his van, hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. His stomach was a mess of nerves, though he’d never admit it. He had been waiting—hoping—you’d show up.

And then, finally, you did.

You were walking towards the buses, books hugged to your chest, brows slightly furrowed like your mind was somewhere else entirely.

He hesitated for half a second, then pushed off the side of his van, striding over to you.

“Hey,” he called, trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t been waiting for you.

You glanced up, a little surprised. “Hey.”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, uh, the guys are heading to my place. Y’know, to celebrate my miraculous academic achievement.” He smirked, tilting his head. “Figured I’d give you a ride.”

Your grip on your books tightened. “Oh- I, um- I actually have something to do.”

Eddie frowned. “What?”

You shifted your weight, glancing toward your car like you were in a hurry. “Yeah, I just- I can’t make it. Sorry.”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard. He had been so sure you’d come.

He forced a chuckle. “C’mon, what could possibly be more important than celebrating me finally getting out of that godforsaken school?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I just-”

“Please?” Eddie’s voice softened, and something about it made you freeze.

He wasn’t just asking. He was really asking.

Like he needed you there.

You looked up at him, at the hopeful, almost nervous glint in his eyes.

And just like that, your excuse- your whole plan to put some distance between you two- crumbled.

You sighed. “Fine.”

Eddie’s face lit up. “Really?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Munson. You win.”

Eddie grinned, stepping back and gesturing toward the van with a dramatic bow. “Then hop in, sweetheart.”

And God help you.

Your stomach flipped, your breath hitched, and for a second, the world tilted just slightly.

That stupid nickname.

He said it like it was nothing, like it didn’t curl around you, warm and teasing, making your heart stutter in your chest.

Like it didn’t make you feel dizzy in the worst- and best- way.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to play it off, to act like that one word didn’t shake you to your core.

And despite everything- the tension, the confusion, the ache in your chest from earlier- you found yourself smiling as you followed him.

Because, really, how could you ever say no to Eddie Munson?

The guy that's been driving you crazy as of late, the guy you can't get out of your head. It was nothing but unfair, really.

Eventually, the van rattled to a stop in front of the trailer, the familiar sight of Forest Hills mobile homes stretching out under the dimming afternoon sky. The drive had been… mostly quiet, filled with a comfortable kind of tension that neither of you had tried to break. The radio had been the only real sound between you, some old rock ballad playing low through the speakers, but even then, neither of you had been really listening.

Eddie pulled the keys from the ignition, glancing at you before shoving the door open.

You followed him up the steps, the screen door creaking as he pushed it open. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of coffee and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke.

And there he was, sprawled out on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand, his other resting on his stomach. He barely glanced up from the newspaper at first.

Then he saw you.

And the absolute shit-eating grin that took over his face was so immediate, so smug, you almost took a step back.

“Well, well,” Wayne drawled, folding the paper and setting it aside. His eyes flicked between you and Eddie, like he already knew something neither of you were saying. “Second day in a row, huh? Should I be expectin’ you tomorrow too?”

Your face burned instantly.

“Oh- uh-” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Eddie groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “Jesus Christ, Wayne.”

Wayne smirked, sipping his coffee like he wasn’t watching you both squirm. “I’m just sayin’- you never bring anyone over, and now suddenly I got a guest two days in a row? Feels like I should be puttin’ out another dinner plate.”

Eddie huffed. “She’s not- ” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Forget it. Can we not make this weird?”

Wayne just chuckled, but the teasing gleam in his eyes never faded.

Eddie sighed and flopped into the recliner, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I brought her here so we can celebrate, old man.”

Wayne raised a brow. “Celebrate?”

Eddie leaned forward, his grin almost boyish. “I’m graduating.”

For a second, Wayne didn’t react. Just blinked.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted, the teasing melting away into something softer.

“Say that again?”

Eddie’s grin widened. “I’m graduating, Wayne. Like, officially. No more repeating senior year, no more Higgins breathing down my neck. I’m done.”

Wayne set his coffee down, staring at Eddie like he had just grown a second head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

And then, before Eddie could react, Wayne was up- clapping him on the shoulder, gripping the back of his neck in one of those rough, affectionate gestures only Wayne Munson could pull off.

“Goddamn, Ed,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “You really did it.”

Eddie laughed, leaning into the touch like he was twelve again and just scored a home run at some little league game. “Told ya I would.”

Wayne huffed. “You told me that two years ago, and I stopped believin’ ya after the second time.” But his voice was warm, proud.

Your heart clenched a little, watching the moment unfold.

Eddie was trying to play it cool, but you could see it—the way his shoulders relaxed, the way he ducked his head slightly, like that small bit of approval from Wayne meant the world to him.

Which, knowing Eddie, it probably did.

Wayne turned to you suddenly, pointing a finger. “And you- you keepin’ him outta trouble, or are you the one gettin’ him into it?”

Eddie cackled. “Oh, definitely the second one.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Wayne smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, he clapped Eddie on the back one last time before heading for the kitchen. “I got a couple beers in the fridge. You want one?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yes, I—”

Wayne shot him a look before looking at you, to which you nodded slowly.

Wayne snorted but grabbed a couple of drinks anyway, muttering something about damn kids under his breath.

You just shook your head, sitting down on the couch while Eddie kicked his boots off and sprawled out beside you.

And for the first time all day, it felt like maybe- just maybe- things didn’t have to be so complicated.

Wayne handed each of you a beer, the cold condensation dripping onto your fingers. He patted Eddie on the back, a proud smile creasing his weathered face.

"Well, I gotta get ready for work in about an hour, so we can celebrate tomorrow, ay?" He glanced over at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I assume you'll be there too?"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked down at your feet, suddenly finding your worn-out shoes incredibly fascinating.

"Wayne—" Eddie began, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

But his uncle cut him off with a chuckle. "—so that's a yes?"

You couldn't help but feel the flutter in your chest at the idea of being invited to another hangout, but it left you a little nervous, too.

Eddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll see, Wayne. Don't scare her off before then."

Wayne laughed, clearly enjoying the moment. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you kids to it."

As he walked away, you dared to glance at Eddie. He met your eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. The air between you both felt thick with the unspoken.

"Sorry about him," Eddie muttered, his tone more sheepish than usual.

You shook your head, offering him a soft smile. "It’s alright. He’s... nice."

Eddie returned your smile, and for a brief moment, the world outside the trailer seemed to blur. There was something warm in the way he looked at you, like you mattered to him. But before it could linger too long, he cleared his throat.

"Wanna go to my room?"

You nodded. "Sure."

Eddie led the way, his boots echoing in the narrow hallway. His room came into view, posters of bands covering the walls, and an old guitar standing proudly in the corner. You stepped inside, your eyes scanning the space. It was exactly how you'd imagined-

Chaotic and full of character.

You stopped just inside the door as Eddie turned to face you, but before either of you could speak, Wayne's voice cut through the air from the kitchen.

"Better keep that door open!"

You and Eddie exchanged confused glances.

"Why?" Eddie asked, his tone laced with annoyance.

Wayne leaned against the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Don’t pretend what I walked in on you two doing yesterday didn’t happen. I don’t wanna be a grandpa just yet, boy."

Your heart jumped in your chest, your face burning with embarrassment. "We didn’t-"

Eddie’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he cut you off. "Jesus, Wayne! Nothing happened!"

Wayne laughed, enjoying the discomfort he’d caused. "Just messing with ya. But seriously, door stays open."

Eddie rolled his eyes and led you into his room, leaving the door ajar as Wayne insisted. As soon as you were inside, Eddie dropped his backpack onto the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry about that," Eddie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still think he's nice?"

You laughed, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "Yeah, He's alright"

Eddie collapsed onto his bed, stretching out with a groan as he kicked off his Reeboks. You hesitated for a second, standing in the middle of his room.

The silence between you was comfortable at first, but soon, you felt it shift. The questions you both had about each other lingered in the air.

Eddie finally broke the quiet, his voice low and thoughtful. "so...about yesterday."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you turned to look at him, a little nervous. "What do you mean?"

Eddie rolled over onto his side, propping himself up with one arm. His eyes flicked to you, and his gaze softened. “I mean... I’ve never really been good at this whole ‘being honest’ thing. But with you? I don’t know, it’s different. I keep thinking about it—about what happened between us, what it means. And it’s weird, but in a good way."

Your heart beat faster, the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. Could he really be saying what you thought he was saying?

Eddie laughed softly, rubbing his face in frustration. "I’m not good at this. But I don’t want you to think I’m just..." He stopped himself, looking over your frame from where you stood

"do you wanna sit?" he patted the spot on his bed beside him, shuffling over.

You looked around before slowly stepping to his bed, shuffling to the wall beside him, when you look up to come face to face, you shuffle away, not realising how close you became.

Clearing your throat, you mumble an apology, but he only stares at you, his eyes soft and warm as he smiles, his dimples on display as he fiddles with his rings.

Your gaze followed down to beside him, where a fluffy brown bear sat lopsided on his pillow.

You smiled and leaned over him.

His breath hitched when he followed over every curve of your body the way your ass stuck in the air and the way your shirt revealed cleavage so dangerous that he had to close his eyes, a cold sweat breaking out as you leaned away to sit back down

"Is this Ozzy?" you beamed brightly when Eddie opened his eyes.

He frowned for a second "how do you know that?"

Eddie never tells anything that personal to anyone- especially you, why would he tell you he still sleeps with a stuffed teddy bear and has a name for him?

With a raised eyebrow you laughed softly "on our da- at the fair... I told you I had a few teddys and you told me you had one"

You played with the worn-out bear in your hands and Eddie felt his heart explode in his chest. He remembers it, and he curses himself for forgetting

"right, yeah" he nodded slowly

"S'pretty worn down" you mumbled, examining the bear

The teddy bear looks like it's been loved for years, its once soft fur is now matted and thin in some places, with patches of faded color. The edges of its ears are frayed, the stitching barely holding on in places where it’s been hugged too tightly over the years.

The eyes are scratched, losing some of its glossy shine. The bear’s nose, once a neat little button, has worn down into a faded stitch, barely visible. Its limbs, though still stuffed, are soft and floppy, having lost the firm structure they once had. the bow around its neck stained and ripped. There’s a small tear on its side, the fabric worn thin, but it’s been lovingly stitched back together- a sign of years of comfort, care, and maybe a few bumps along the way.

Despite the wear, it still carries that comforting, familiar scent of childhood- a mix of dust, warmth, and a little bit of home.

Eddie chuckled lowly "yeah...well, s'about fifteen years old so..."

"Mm. Ozzy hasn't been making music for that long, though" you pointed out

"Yeahhh. I only named him when I was...thirteen?" he smiled, looking and loving the way you handled him with care "don't know... Mum tried to think of names but...none of them really felt like him..."

You looked over at him, finding his gaze stuck on the teddy, eyes hung low, rested.

"So, your mum gave him to you?" You spoke, handing it to him.

He smiled, nodding, letting the bear sit in his lap as he brought his knees up.

"yeah...she saved up for months to afford him...she tried to make that birthday so special...I remember dad getting mad when I opened it, he didn't want her spending so much money of a stupid gift for 'girls'" he laughed humourlessly.

"but it was one of the best gifts I've gotten ever...mum always treated us like brothers because that's what I wanted her to do...dad thought it was stupid though; he hid him for about 2 months before mum found him and gave him back..."

When the first tear fell you rushed to brush it away gently. He shook his head, putting the bear beside him as he cleared his throat.

With a sip of his beer, he sighed, leaning his head on the wall as he looked forward.

The room was silent for a few moments. You take the time to look around the room, really look.

The Corroded Coffin banner above your head and the pictures that look like they have been ripped out of a magazine scattered on the walls. Clothes piled in the corner of the room, random trinkets all over the floor, it was so Eddie.

He sat up with a groan, going to his CD collection in his desk, right below his guitar that's hung up against his mirror "music?"

With a quick nod, you looked at the options he handed you. finding a bunch of covers that look straight out of a horror film, but your eyes wandered to the orange and yellow CD, one that looks familiar and frowned

"I know Metal freaks you out" he chuckled lightly "but it's the only music I have"

You remember, the music store where you had been caught looking at that exact album.

He saw your gaze on W.A.S.P the last command and smiled "still fascinated by it?"

Before you could respond, he placed the disc in the player and the blasting of music came on.

The first notes hit, and your chest tightened instantly. It was loud- the kind of loud that filled every inch of space, that crawled under your skin and took over your heartbeat.

The guitar riff tore through the air, sharp and reckless, and when the drums kicked in, you swore you felt them in your ribs. The sheer force of it had you frozen, your hands gripping the edge of Eddie’s bed as if the sound alone might knock you back.

Then the voice came in.

"I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain…"

Your breath caught, pulse stuttering. The way he sang- gritty, hungry, like every word was bitten off with sharp teeth. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you listened.

Eddie was watching you.

You felt it before you even turned your head. He was leaning back, one arm draped over his knee, the other lazily tapping a rhythm against his thigh. His rings caught the dim light of the room, glinting as his fingers moved.

But his eyes?

His eyes were on you.

"A creature of love and I can’t be tamed…"

Heat crept up your neck, a flood of goosebumps creeping their way onto your skin.

You weren’t sure if it was the song or the way Eddie looked at you, but something in your stomach flipped, twisting tighter with every second.

The chorus hit, bursting through the speakers like a wildfire.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me…"

Your hands clenched into fists.

It was so blatant, so bold, like the song wasn’t even trying to hide what it was about. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t careful- it was raw, unashamed, hungry.

And Eddie was still watching you.

His gaze flickered, his lips twitching into something almost knowing. Like he could see the way your fingers curled in your lap, like he knew exactly what kind of effect the music was having on you.

You tore your eyes away, staring at the stereo instead.

"I need you to touch me… ‘Cause I want what you do to me…"

You exhaled shakily.

It wasn’t just the lyrics. It was the way the guitars screamed, the way the drums crashed like a thunderstorm, the way every single note was laced with something untamed and electric. It sent shivers down your spine.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

Eddie leaned in slightly, voice barely loud enough to hear over the music.

"Not so bad, huh?"

You swallowed, your throat dry.

He was close- closer than before. You could feel the warmth of him, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne and something else uniquely Eddie.

Your heart pounded.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze again. He was grinning now, lazy and pleased, like he could feel your nervous energy crackling in the air between you.

You had no idea if he was thinking about the song’s lyrics. If he was thinking about how they fit.

But you were.

As the song swelled, the raw, electric energy filled the small room, pressing in on you from all sides. The words pulsed in your veins, the heavy beat vibrating through your bones.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me… I want you…"

Eddie was still watching you.

Your heart was racing. Not just from the music. Not just from the way it shook the walls and the floor beneath you. But from him. From the way he was looking at you- eyes half-lidded, like he was memorizing every part of this moment.

You could barely breathe.

And then, as the chorus hit again, as the song begged and burned, you turned your head just as he did.

Your noses brushed.

For a split second, neither of you moved. Just hovered there, inches apart, the music crashing around you, your breaths uneven.

Then Eddie whispered, "Sweetheart..."

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Your lips met his- tentative, hesitant- But as soon as you felt the warmth of his mouth, the way he sucked in a sharp breath, you knew there was no stopping it.

Eddie made a noise in the back of his throat- something between a groan and a sigh, relief and desperation tangled together. His hand lifted, fingers tangling in the back of your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening it.

The song roared around you.

"A naked heat machine, I want your love!"

Your stomach flipped as his lips moved against yours, slow but sure, like he’d been waiting for this. And God, maybe you had too. Maybe that’s why it felt so dizzying, so right.

You kissed each other like you were both afraid it wasn't real.

When you finally broke apart, you opened your eyes.

And you found that you weren't kissing him.

Instead, you were in his van, music blaring in your ears as he drove you to his trailer, talking about his graduation party, and you? you were imagining kissing him for the 100th time this evening.

God, you're so hooked screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ha. you really thought? sorry.

Taglist:

Taglist:

@exploding-bonbon  @xlostitx  @pupwrites  @carolineesnell  @foreveranexpatsposts  @itsmadamehydra  @thedoubleexposurephotography  @g3n3zshack  @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable  @emxxblog  @nubedeoctubreval  @bimboshaggy  @sheneedsrocknroll92  @callmytherapistplease-blog  @ifeelbadbutimhot  @littlemissholy  @sammybrrr  @alastorssimp @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[laurel-dreams]

I had to turn my asks off because I was getting so many Donation requests it was becoming overwhelming and affecting my mental health.

I really want to help but I just can't. Im a disabled person i dont mangae my own finances, trust me if i could help I WOULD.

People are following me on my bluesky JUST asking for donations instead of interacting with my posts and art and it's very discouraging because I can't do anything to help.

I Made a masterpost there for peope to advertise their campaigns and they just keep following me in silicence and @ ing me asking for help. I CANT HELP. IF I COULD I DO. I ALREADY TRY TO SHARE THE POSTS I SEE AND IT MAKES ME FEEL MISERABLE KNOWING THERES NOTHING I CAN DO.

I know you need help, i know youre living in hell right now, i know this sounds like im a jerk for asking for my boundaries to be respected, but I feel like im being harrassed by grown adults private messaging me and I can't catch a break. Again IM PRO PALESTINE. and if i could help I WOULD HAVE ALREADY DON IT.

Please stop, it causes me major anxiety. Is my anxiety worse than your situation? No, of course not. But I'm still a human being and deserve to live without feeling like shit for not being able to help, its guilt-trippy, it feels guilt trippy.

I can't do anymore, please, leave me alone.

Please do not send me asks for donations

Here's why:

I have NO money to give you

I'm not a popular enough blog that I will give you any reach

I am a minor, and most of my followers are too

It makes me feel extremely guilty

Seeing pictures of injuries or hospitals etc are triggering for me (which are in most intro posts for this sort of thing)

They are always worded in a way that makes me feel like I am a murderer if I don't donate

It makes me feel uncomfortable

I said I don't want them, and my boundaries should be respected

I can't tell what is a bot and what isn't (although I know a large portion of them are NOT bots)

I get a lot of spam from this. It is disappointing to see 10 new asks in my inbox just to be the same ask for donations over and over

Please, just respect the fact that I have said this.

If you want this in your pinned post, please don't credit me. You can copy the words or take a screenshot with my username cropped out. You can reblog this but please don't go on about how awful you find it. I get it, but also if you spiral two much you might end up accidentally saying something bad. This post has led to a lot of hate anons and harassment, so I would rather not have too much attention. Thanks...

Edits, boundaries and facts below (probably for the best if you read them too- especially if you are considering sending me hate)

Edit: To all the people reblogging this, I'm sorry you have had to deal with this too. And yes, you can put this in your pinned post! Stay safe <3

Edit 2: I am pro Palestine and want to do everything I can to help but I'm not financially or mentally well enough to do much. I'm not in support of these people dying. Also, this post isn't just about Palestine. It's about ALL asks for donations. I'm not doing favouritism or racism. I just can't deal with it. Don't harass me for expressing boundaries.

Edit 3: Yes, this post might seem controversial. But I did literally make this for my own personal experience and didn't expect it to get more than 12 notes or so. You can agree with this post, pin this post, reblog this post, I don't care really. But don't add opposing views because quite frankly, it's none of your business. It's not my problem and I didn't mean for this post to get so many notes. Edit 2 mostly covered what I'm trying to say here, but don't use the number of notes as an excuse to fight me. I just want a peaceful Tumblr experience. Also, if you are reblogging this, don't trauma dump. I keep notifications on for this post so that I can block people harassing me before shit escalates, so I can see every reblog. You can screenshot and repost if you want to talk about your problems, but honestly its no better seeing people saying "I'm bankrupt and I just got kicked out by my family. I also have a history of abuse and those images are so triggering that I want to die". That doesn't help me. Make your own post to say that. Please

[thatdisasterauthor]

There's a lot of advice out there about how to run a Kickstarter, as an author or otherwise, and a lot of it is sort of...shock and awe? It's full of the kind of pressure marketing that I HATE. Lots of "this is exclusive and your only chance get it right now you'll miss out it's never happening again buy buy buy get it early for extra special stuff we're doing a bonus deal just for today look at everything look at everything look at everything right now don't think just buy."

I think this creates a bad experience for both fans and creators. How many of those backers are actually buying something they WANT vs. something they were told they had to have?

I want people to WANT my books. And yeah, the special editions are exclusive to the KS, as is the swag. But that's it. I don't do early bird deals, I don't do complicated single day deals, I don't do overly complicated tiers, I don't change things up mid campaign to create more pressure. I just. Keep it as simple as I can. Here's the book, you have 30ish days to grab one, but it's up to you! Regular versions will always come out via other distributors later, so it's up to you.

And, yeah, maybe I don't make as much money as I otherwise could. But I also end up with much simpler campaigns that are easier to understand for backers, and easier for me to manage (especially when it comes to shipping). I've also noticed, based on the various Kickstarter groups I'm in, I tend to get A LOT less cancellations and pledge adjustments and dropped pledges than the people who do the high pressure marketing.

Anyways, if you want to check out my latest one, it's up now! It's about a bunch of queer kids trying to survive a wildfire.

[utilitycaster]

The reason those C3 fans shit the bricks over the Charity stream was because they viewed the charity stream as a win for them and bells hells. Not like you know, an actual good thing to help people in need. Because when it was announced they were in the qrts and on twt yelling that the cast closing to play as Bells Hells was cause they loved them above all. That BH were "winning" because MN didn't get one shots while airing. No1 expected anyone BUT BH to be played so they were fighting air tbh.

[Cont. So when Laudna got yeeted and Beau joined it, it's like they suddenly hit with the fact that the cast like all the times. All character sheets were available and BH was being played by default of the one shot happening during c3. But they hung their entire world view on BH being extra special that they broke. Saw them also being PISSED at Ashley and Liam for getting MN members to the top before everyone else and especially the gate was "showing up BH".]

Here is what gets me, as a person who does not follow sports in any form: The Mighty Nein are a juggernaut of popularity within the fandom. I think this is for the most part deserved and I also think a lot of fans of C1 who never vibed with any later campaigns are simply not active in fandom any more since it's been 7 years, and Critical Role had more recognition with Campaign 2, so like, numbers within active social media fandom are not a perfect indicator of quality, itself a subjective measure.

HOWEVER. If you want your team to win, the most efficient way to do that is to start rooting for the winning team. I get that this is considered treasonous to genuine fans of sports. But like, if your biggest priority is Number Is Bigger then there is an obvious solution and it's called jumping on the bandwagon. Otherwise, perhaps you should consider a different metric, such as "did I have fun at this game? Were the snacks good? Were there some cool plays?" (from this you can see my priorities re: live sports namely are my friends here and did I get some nachos and a beer but you get my point). Honestly, this is how I and a lot of other people have been approaching Bells Hells week to week for some time now: were there some cool scenes? Did the character they liked most at the time say something funny? Did NPCs do anything? Were the fight mechanics interesting?

I have a post that I am saving for next week about specific elements of C3 that goes into more depth but I feel like Campaign 3's fandom in particular fell to a certain attitude that feels very specific to a younger (to me, an ancient crone, so like, mid-20s) crowd, of obsessing over numbers: how many fics. how many notes. how much screentime. can you believe that Episode 100 didn't even have Bells Hells in it????? And it's like. who the fuck cares. Is it good? Is it satisfying? Because right now we're watching you guys all admit it hasn't been and 120 episodes in you were waiting for the campaign to REALLY begin.

I don't think the cast dislikes Bells Hells! I think they all like all of their characters, and frankly when the cast gets asked directly a lot of them go with a "you never forget your first" and give their VM character anyway so like, the vitriol at the Mighty Nein really is a petty popularity contest in the end. But Bells Hells are the party that the cast happened to be playing during the Moon Plot Campaign and the party that the cast happened to be playing at the time of the livestream. None of the three main parties are uniquely special. They are special to their individual fans.

I made the Elon Musk comparison for C3 fans earlier this week and I don't want to go too hard since like, he is truly horrible, and I do think that a lot of C3 fans, while currently shitty self-absorbed people, are also quite young and it is my hope that a sharp but ultimately harmless disappointment like this campaign might shock them into fixing their hearts, but the final lines of this post came to mind while writing up a lot of my responses: "And in fact I would argue that seeking to put yourself above other people is inherently going to leave you empty, because egotistical as you may be, you've adopted a values system where your sense of self worth intrinsically depends on other people. Congratulations, you played yourself."

If your day can be ruined because your blorbo wasn't present for 100% of a live stream for charity and the cast likes all of their characters? You should work on that! I'm not saying it's easy or fun but it really is a thing you should work on because right now, the worst thing that's going to happen to you is people laughing at your misfortune on social media. But if you keep up this behavior, you're going to be bitter and miserable forever, and it will be your own fault because you're getting mad that something that was never about you continues to not be about you. Learn to accept that you had a good time (if you had a good time, anyway) and it's over and that's okay.

[crow-caller]

been binging your videos lately and i've gotta say, if there's one thing that is keeping me going it's the knowledge that with so many bad ya fallen angel romances, maybe my d&d campaign that heavily involves angels (specifically the watchers and the angels who created the nephilim) is going to be an actually fun take on the whole concept. love your videos a ton and i hope you're in good health!

the kind of comment I get all the time is this. 'maybe this means my ideas/book/fanfic aren't so bad!'

And they aren't! The thing is, just having ideas of your own and wanting to experiment with them and do something with them is always a good idea. And with shit YA in your heart, you can always remember the bar is surprisingly low- try to soar far above it, but really, don't sweat.

Especially with bad angel books my beloved, the majority of people who tell me about their interest in angels and feeling inspired/hurt by like, Hush Hush... are already on a pathway to do much better than Hush Hush. Because the people who wrote these 2010s para-ro books were a lot less interested in angels than they were in writing unpleasant romances. Just having any sort of consistent worldbuilding is a huge step up in comparison.

[plaidos]

tl;dr: Velvet has said that she is going to keep engaging in all the same harassing & abusive behaviours she already has been for literally months, and that her harassing me isn't harassment because (checks notes) she has less followers than me, so apparently definitionally no way she treats me or speaks about me can be in any way negative or constitute a harassment campaign. i'm not going to post screenshots, you all know where her blog is and you can check how openly she is committing to how she literally HAS to talk about me, she HAS to criticize me, she HAS to harass me, and it is not in any way her responsibility when her doing this leads to her followers sending me anon hate (because she has less followers than me. apparently 15x more. which is something she can't possibly know and, based on how many followers i have, is almost certainly not true)

i'm going to keep my half of the deal anyway, because i'm done with her childish nonsense. she can keep screaming at the wind if she wants, it's not like i can make her stop harassing me, badjacketing me & smearing me publicly in close company of terfs (how many of her mutuals are redlit now?). but i wish she would, and i've asked now, somewhere where everybody can confirm that i did that and can likewise confirm that she has publicly professed no intention to stop harassing me literally ever unless i leave the site (which won't be happening lol).

this is the last time i'm ever going to talk about her. i hope that she can find the remaining kindness and compassion within herself to extend the same to somebody who has asked her several times across a year to stop & leave me alone. but i doubt it.

[andarans]

a love letter to dragon age.

i’ve been trying to cope with the news that all the dragon age devs have been laid off or reassigned these past two days, and i just…. it’s hard. it might sound silly to say but i’ve barely been able to do anything because i feel as if i’ve lost a family member. took today to have a good cry. dragon age was such a formative series for me. i joke all the time i got into it for the romances and stayed for the lore but really everything about it i love, dearly. i love that each companion and side character had stories that moved me and made me cry, stories i could relate to even in a world with magic and dragons. i love how the lore is presented, including the brilliance that is the codex—that you’re never quite sure who to believe, that discovering the truth requires you to be an archaeologist. i love how my choices always mattered, that decision i made in origins affected my playthrough in inquisition. i loved the message dragon age as a series sent, about corruption, about power, about propaganda. dragon age influenced so much of my fantasy tastes and own writing and art. it left such a huge mark on my artistic inspirations and work. hell, my first ever dnd character was a tiefling that pretty much looks like a qunari with having a backstory that affected the world she was in, reminiscent of the depiction of elves in dragon age (still one of my favorite and nuanced takes on elves in fantasy, btw). even with the dnd campaign and world i’m writing now, i see dragon age in nooks and crannies. i wrote so much fanfic and drew so much fanart and made so many theories and anxiously followed every bit of news for the development cycle of veilguard. i’d watch the game awards every year with my friend hoping for dragon age news. speaking of friends, god i made so many friends because of dragon age. that common interest sparked so many fun conversations and ideas. i even was a writer for an anders focused dragon age charity zine.

above all i loved the community around dragon age. sure, fandoms all have its moments and toxicity, but by and large my experience with the DA community was wonderful. i love getting to see people’s OCs and world states because i also obsess over my DA OCs and world states. i love getting to see people write theses about dragon age’s themes and masters worthy character studies. the communal love for this world and its characters is so, so profoundly inspiring.

i’ve spent so much time moping but i do want to highlight what i loved about each game and my favorite characters.

DAO: my first intro to the series. by god the gameplay was so slow but the story and characters and lore and writing made it SO worth it. made me appreciate CRPGs too. alistair ended up becoming my favorite character, i remember actually gasping and blushing at the rose moment in his romance. the landsmeet is still one of my favorite quests, i love fantasy political intrigue. morrigan also was my best friend, when she called my warden a sister i cried.

DA2: one of the most underrated games by far. i loved the smaller scale, i loved how personal hawke’s story felt, i loved every single companion and this found family. fenris was my first romance and one of my favorites, he is so complex and misunderstood and secretly has the best sense of humor. i think anders ended up becoming my favorite though—god, anders. i could speak about him for hours but i appreciate the DA devs for what they did for him and letting us romance him. anders made me appreciate his character archetype so much; he is such a tragic man transformed by bitterness and vengeance and rage. “ten years from now, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no templars to tear them apart.” i love you anders.

DAI: i love the inquisitor. i love how tragic of a character the inquisitor is, ripped from their life and forced to become an idol for a movement they might not even believe in. a lot of people criticize DAI for being “the chosen one” cliché, but it’s not. it’s a critique of that very trope and how it destroys a person. the inquisitor is forced to become an idea, and it does not matter who they actually are; they have all autonomy taken from them, and that is horrifying. cullen ended up ruining my life for a good amount of time, his romance is my favorite in all the series and god he got such a good redemption and ending. (i even bought cullen themed soap from a local convention, lol. i’m telling you i was obsessed). and in my replay solas’ romance absolutely destroyed me, turning him from my dearly detested to my dearly beloved. god trick weekes i will miss you so much, thank you for writing solas.

DAV: i know how contentious veilguard is. believe me i have many of my own criticisms. but i still love it anyway. i love the companions, all of them, i love how act 3 absolutely fucking gutted me and made me cry twice. i loved the amazing visuals and character creator and ost and environments. i love the QOL improvements. i loved seeing the cameos and my inquisitor again. there’s so much to love in veilguard and i’d rather talk about how much i love it than what i didn’t. lucanis was my first romance and while there wasn’t as much content as i was hoping for, i sincerely appreciate what we did get. i love how ride or die he is, how his love language is acts of service, how he’s afraid to hurt rook. i love his facial animations in his romance, i love zach mendez’s performance. i’m hoping to play emmrich and davrin’s next, and i’m sure i’ll love them too.

it’s hard to accept the fact that dragon age is probably over. it makes me sad knowing we’ll never find out about certain lore questions or know what DA5 could’ve looked like. and i’m still so angry for the developers and how they’re so callously treated and thrown away by EA/bioware. sometimes i wonder if the same thing would’ve happened if veilguard sold more. but it’s not helpful to dwell on these what-ifs, because we’ve seen how the industry treats both successful games and what they deem as failures: layoffs and no remorse. i hope the team finds work soon. i hope they realize how loved their work is. i hope someday the game industry is completely, wholly unionized. i’m glad at least we got veilguard to answer the biggest questions we’ve had.

thank you, DA devs, for everything. thank you for answering our silly questions about your characters favorite coffee flavors and perfect date nights. thank you for bringing them to life. i won’t stop playing the games or making art or fic. i won’t stop being inspired. dragon age lives on in my creations, in my dnd characters, in everything. i hope to be back in thedas soon, one day. dareth shiral.

[thealphabard]

Hey there! I was just browsing some tags and came across your Zora OC, and I'm curious what inspired his design? He looks great!

THANK YOU 🥺 both for the ask and kind words! I have a messy bio for him and I've been asked this before but a Koi fish was his main inspiration :) though, the reason for Koi fish I think was entirely to play on the fact he uses fire magic/his patron is Dinraal. It's been a minute! Since he was a dnd character, I don't really remember the full details of everything since a lot of it was back and forth discussions with my DM and I have absolutely atrocious memory. I never expected Akos to really become a character anyone else became fond of 😂 as for the rest of him: he's technically on the smaller side zoras, not nearly as tall or beefy as the rest of the domain. Runt of the family if you will. It was mostly because I didn't want him to be so much taller than his companions, and partially because he was made with the idea that he had to be quick on his feet! Hes not very dressed up because I was incredibly inexperienced designing him, had really no good references at traditional zora gear at the time and because I was basing him loosely on TP zoras, who are literally just naked, I didn't know what to do lol I plan to make a full version of his "dress" attire in the future, to hopefully give that a good reference

[isthatacalzone]

me: *seeing people yell about how they did Glintshore & Percy's death in the show*

also me: ..................anyway

[3cosmicfrogs]

he wants to show you his bird

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of Riz Gukgak from D20 fantasy high from the waist up. He looks like he's holding onto sanity by a thread and is covered in blood as he attempts to sew a finger back onto Biz's hand and says, ha ha, oopsie! End ID]

Damn man being 14 sure is tough... It's all just pimples this, brutally shooting off a classmate's fingers before figuring out he wasn't the mastermind and then immediately regretting it that...

[sophsicle]

Soph I love you but Taylor Swift does not “make herself the victim” there’s so much valid shit that has happened to her for us to feel that way about her, which most of her fans honestly don’t even see her as - granted there as some obnoxious ones but that goes for all fandoms.

Like for example of the experiences I was talking about.

- being sexually assaulted and then being called “greedy” for suing the guy.

- being painted as a “snake” because she didn’t react well to someone writing a misogynistic song about it. Which I feel like is a valid reaction as a woman in entertainment.

- being groomed at 19 by a 30+ something year old.

- getting called a snake worldwide for a narrative that 2 people - who were more famous than her at the time invented.

- being bodyshamed constantly when she had an eating disorder

Yes she’s privileged and has always been, coming from money and having fame, but she does not portray herself as the “victim” and the fact that people think she does just for standing up for herself makes me sad, not because of her but because being a woman myself it just paints the picture that women’s pain or experiences will always be brushed under the rug because we’re classified as “dramatic” and “we should take it with more grace” “be thankful about the good things” like??

I understand that you don’t like her but that assessment just seems wrong.

like i just. you realize you're proving my point right? like this - not just this message, but all of the ones i've gotten where people are waxing poetic about all of the struggles taylor swift has had and how she is absolutely a victim and how dare i suggest otherwise - is exactly what i'm talking about. you feel the need to jump down the throat of anyone who says anything remotely negative about her. this is the whole "victim" narrative, that she is vulnerable and must be protected and defended from all negativity at all times at all costs.

and like. that is on purpose. she has cultivated that narrative for this reason. so that publications are now afraid to post reviews of her albums with bylines because their journalists are getting death threats if they criticize her.

i am not suggesting that taylor swift has never had anything bad ever happen to her. that would be insane. i am trying to say that this culture that has been cultivated within her fanbase of defending and protecting her, is extreme and irrational. and when you don't buy into it, it makes a lot of the content surrounding taylor swift very hard to swallow.

[omgcatboi]

I don't often post my non kink related art but I'm tryna get the attention of someone else in the community and am too shy and cringe to reach out so. Here, have this portrait I did of Hanzo Shimada. With my finger. On ibis paint. This took me four hours. Progress for proof below.

[goldkirk]

Sharing one of the more powerful quotes from this current chapter of The Nazi Seizure of Power: The Experience of a Single German Town, 1922-1945.

The situation, where even heroism was denied the men of the democratic Left, came about in no small part because of the failure of the Social Democrats to understand the nature of Nazism. Just as their basic premise in the years before Hitler came to power was the erroneous assumption that the Nazis were essentially Putsch-ists who could not possibly attract a mass following, so their basic premise after Hitler came to power was the equally erroneous assumption that his would be a government similar to the others of the Weimar period.

The most eloquent document on this was the set of instructions sent out to SPD Locals in District Hanover on March 23, 1933. It was filled with instructions about sending for handbooks on Socialist policy in communal affairs and filling out questionnaires; in short, carrying on business as usual. The only reference to the phenomenon of Nazism was contained in paragraph seven;

Will the election of our village and town representatives be approved? That is a question which is repeatedly being asked. The question is unanswerable because we do not know what this government will do. However, in any case, we must, now as always, select trustworthy comrades as village representatives wherever we have a majority. Should they later not be sworn in, then we will take a position on this. Under no circumstances should we value any of our rights cheaply.

This at a time when SPD leaders were having their houses searched in the middle of the night for weapons! This when the officers of the Reichsbanner were being herded into jail by Storm troopers, beaten in the prisons across Germany, cast into Nazi concentration camps! The SPD, the only defenders of democracy in Germany, the men who should have been gathering guns and calling the general strike, or at least developing an underground with passwords, false names, and other paraphernalia of effective covert resistance, were instead being urged to keep the party files in order, to avoid bookkeeping errors, and above all to purchase the latest pamphlet on parliamentary tactics in village councils.

If the central offices of the SPD did not know “what this government will do,” the local socialist leaders in Northeim soon found out.

(the book goes on to describe the experiences of five Northeim Social Democrats over multiple pages of raids, imprisonment, misery, and persecution)