#see i wrote a thing
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ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????
#ramble#my first thought was like: how is this even a debate what about blind people. not every book comes in braille but MOST have an audiobook#or dyslexic people#you still enjoyed the book!! you still absorbed it!!! you got EXACTLY the same thing as people who read the words!!!#how does it not count????#i guess you miss out on the 'learning new vocab' you get through seeing the words but also#i don't really do audiobooks but i do a lot of podcasts esp fiction podcasts#and i have ABSOLUTELY picked up new stuff from there that helps with my writing#someone please explain how this is even an argument of COURSE it counts????#idk in my opinion finishing a book means 'i put the words in my brain and i thought about them and i enjoyed a story'#not 'i held a stack of paper in my hands for a bit'#i'm v lucky that i do have time to sit and read. and whenever i commute anywhere it's public transport so i CAN bring a book with me#but if i didn't have the free time or had to drive for hours everywhere i would be STOKED to still get to enjoy books#it's been REALLY bothering me lmao idk why i feel so strongly#for some reason it's giving the same energy as like. being told you can't take a comic or manga from the library bc it's not a 'real' book#of course it's a real book it's a story somebody wrote down#i can see this spiralling into 'if you have a kindle you aren't reading'. you have to sniff the paper. feel the papercuts
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pick your battles
#my art#my stuff#art#comic#original art#pride 2024#pride month#trans allegory..... or not even allegory. just trans .... ^_^#i technically cannot come out yet but i don't think the people who i need to not see this stalk my tumblr#i know they stalk everything else like my twitter and my instagram but this might be safe#so fuck it we yap. this is a comic about picking your battles#this is a comic about how for almost a year now everyone at home in singapore has been crying about my sore throat#my terrible fucked up voice. my you know. etc#i came out as not cis and using they/them pronouns in 2015 when i was 14#but no one ever used my pronouns. none of my classmates or friends even up until i left for college in 2020#from 2020 onwards every year i wrote an angry vulnreable essay about how much it hurts that they dont remember#and people would dm me apologizing on their hands and knees and commending my bravery#and then forget about it all over again. id ont mean 'they misgender me and then catch it and apologize and correct themselves'#i mean they dont even get that far#and so you might ask yourself: why have you kept them around all this time?#and i would have to explain that by pure bad luck i grew up in the most conservative close minded community#that all of my ex classmates that stayed in singapore are cishet and upper middle class and chinese singaporean#that i Am the trans person. that they were able to ignore me for a decade partially because there was no one else#so this is a comic about how there is dignity and grace in staying in the closet sometimes#about how not everyone deserves to see you at your happiest. about how some people can go fuck themselves#you know your truth and THATS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS!!! YEAH!!! i love you
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My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?
#writing#writeblr#writer things#writing humour#textpost#writing humor#relatable#funny#I genuinely am writing for the first time in a long while#but it’s uh it’s for an angst fanfic for a fandom one wouldn’t expect fic for necessarily#and I’m embarrassed but I’m not because it’s good but you’re never seeing it it’s between me and my ao3 when I finally do finish it#it’s at 6000 words but fr that’s the most I’ve written on a single thing in a long time and it’s still going!#last time I wrote/finished anything in forever was also for this fandom back in November <3 nature is healing#it’s slow going but I’m hoping to finish it before June 😭
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Begging swifties to understand that Taylor didn’t write reputation and Lover with the knowledge of how the relationship was going to end and that trying to “excavate” those albums for evidence to prove a specific theory as to why it ended is not how they should be viewed. Taylor wrote those songs feeling a very specific way because that’s what she was experiencing and she is now reflecting on them with hindsight and relates to them differently than when she first created them. These conflicting emotions can exist; how she views it now doesn’t diminish how she felt about it when she first released it.
#taylor swift#don’t know if I’m expressing myself as properly and as articulate as I’d like#but both of the emotions she’s feeling about the songs can coexist#like little lover can still be a love song that’s what it was for her for a while#but she can also look back and say ‘oh maybe this wasn’t the best’ but it doesn’t void what it was originally#like I keep seeing things like oh she wrote this lyric in lover about him not showing up and it’s like no that’s not right#like yes you can see her underlying anxieties and fears in those songs because she was open about them#it doesn’t mean she predicted how it would end#there was a point in time where she thought this man was the one and would write about feeling that way
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am I the only one who was stuck watching those eggshell peeling livestreams on tiktok that they NEVER peeled all the way
#I lied one time I watched one for hours just to see if they would ever finish it#they finally did and it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life#they wrote ‘d-boy’ on it then gave it a crown and put it on a throne THEN a started role playing the egg with taxidermied cats??#actually never recovered from that and I never watched another one again#kyle broflovski#south park#sp#sp fanart#south park fanart#ike broflovski#fish art#is this too niche
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Fop redesigns for funsies but also bcs I saw some star heel boots and had to put Dale in them immediately.
#No Dev in this lineup simply bcs I cannot imagine him wearing anything but his cannon outfit#he has no sense of fashion or personal identity to pull an outfit from LOL#fop#fairly oddparents#fop a new wish#fairly oddparents a new wish#hazel wells#dale dimmadome#fop peri#fop cosmo#fop wanda#redesigns#outfit redesign#art#digital art#fanart#Im not gonna be using Dale or Peris redesigns bcs those arent things I see them wearing regularly they were more just fun explorations#Hazel Cosmo and Wanda im def using tho#I know I didnt change Wanda much but#I have a small but insane pet peeve where I cannot stand a characters pants and shirt being the same color.#So I made Hazels sweater more purple and changed her pants to a different and darker blue#Gave cosmo a more relaxed dad vibe while keeping it a button up#Wandas mostly the same I just mostly used her human outfit and changed her sneakers to boots#Peri has less visible fairy features than his parents because hes more insistent about hiding them#Also if Peri looks uncomfortable in his outfit it is because he is ♥#I wrote like an entire paragraph about Peris relationship with gender identity and how fairy society biology/gender binary comes in conflic#and then I pussied out of posting it so now all you get is peri looking kinda uncomfy in a skirt#The long story short of it tho is that Peri identifies as the human version of male#while the closest he can get to that in fairy society is kind of transfem#So dressing like that around other fairies is closer to making him feel himself but still not entirely right
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one piece had an active fanbase before I was born which is kinda crazy to me. sanji's been getting dicked down for longer than I've been alive. incredible
#inspired by me reading some of the older zs doujins and seeing like#“originally written in 2001” in the translators notes#shoutout to sanji for taking it like a champ for like 25 slutty slutty years#to think people wrote zosan fics when i was an infant and now twenty years later im doing the same thing...#kinda makes me emotional tbh#one piece#vinsmoke sanji#black leg sanji#roronoa zoro#zosan#sanji#sanzo
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@steddieangstyaugust 04/08 // angst with a happy ending
wc: 2.3k // rating: G // cw: language // tags: post-s4, eddie lives, eddie in WITSEC, mutual pining, phone calls
divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics
“So, where are you now?”
Steve knew he wasn’t going to get a real answer to this question—given that Eddie wasn’t allowed to say—but it was basically tradition at this point to ask.
Eddie chuckled through the receiver. “Hmm… it’s windy. And cold as balls. Will probably start snowing soon.”
Steve raised his brows. “Snow? This early?”
Dustin, from Steve’s kitchen island, mirrored his look of interested surprise, and immediately started looking over the map laid out on the countertop. It was dotted with little red and yellow stickers and various scribblings.
“Yep,” Eddie responded, popping the P. “Pretty shit going out for a smoke, but lots of trees around, so the view is decent at least.”
“Lots of trees,” Steve repeats, with a pointed glance at Dustin, who hurriedly starts marking different spots on the map.
“How’s Henderson’s map going?” Eddie asked, knowing by the tone what they were doing.
“It’s… going?” Steve responded with a shrug. “He thinks he’s worked out the movement system.”
“I have worked out the movement system, thank you very much,” Dustin snarked, not looking up at Steve. “We can track their movement from the West Coast back up North, hence the snow.”
Eddie laughs again. “Kid’s too smart for his own good.”
“You’re telling me,” Steve grumbles, moving away from the kitchen, as far as the cord allowed him to. He drops his voice low. “How you holding up?”
“I dunno,” Eddie sighs. “Same shit, different place… Same shitty government officials with the same shitty requirements.”
Steve wants to say so much, to reassure and comfort him, but holds back. Keeps it in. “How’s Wayne doing?”
“He’s alright, doesn’t love the cold…” Steve can picture Eddie looking over at where Wayne is probably sitting nearby. “Hopefully they’ll move us somewhere warmer next.”
“D’you know when that’ll be?” A small pit of anxiety swirls in Steve’s gut. As it did any time they spoke of Eddie needing to move.
“Nah, last time was six months, but time before was only three. Hopefully this is just another quick one.” Steve can hear Eddie chewing on his lip, can picture him playing with his hair.
“Steve!” Dustin calls from behind the wall. “Ask Eddie what kind of trees are around him!”
Steve snorts. “Did you get that one?”
“Tell him I have no idea,” Eddie deadpans.
Lowering the receiver, Steve calls over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know, buddy.”
“What kind of trees…” Eddie grumbles, only slightly mocking. “I guess I can’t blame him for trying.”
“It’s how he deals.” Steve keeps his voice low. “He misses you. I miss you.” His brain scolds him—too much—and he quickly adds, “We all do.”
“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, and Steve’s almost sure he hears him hit his head on the wall. “I miss you too. All of you.”
It was a thing that happened often, for how infrequently Eddie was able to call. A kind of vulnerability that Steve supposed came from the fact that they couldn’t see each other, and wouldn’t for a long time yet. They’d skirt around it, but it was there, pulled taut between them, ready to break with one wrong move.
“How much longer?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t already know, like he hasn’t been counting down the days since Eddie got taken away.
Eddie exhales heavily, the sound muffling through the receiver. “Bit under three years.” Steve can hear the sad smile in his voice.
“Right.” Steve leans back against the wall, head tilted back as longing shoots through his gut. They were almost at the halfway point. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just… couldn’t. Steve would wait.
Steve’s kicking snow off his boots at his front door when he hears the phone ring from inside. He bolts in, slipping on the floor slightly in his haste.
“Hello?” he answers breathlessly.
“Hey.”
A wave of relief washes over him. “Eddie,” he breathes.
“You okay? Did I wake you up?” His tone immediately switches to one of concern.
“No, no, I just got back from the Henderson’s,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, willing his heart to calm down now that he’s answered the call. “We wanted to call you, but… y’know.”
“Yeah…” Eddie sighs. “I wish you could.”
The silence settles, and they just listen to each other breathe for several long moments. Steve knows that Eddie is holding back, the same way he is. Saying things that are only close to what they mean. Their quiet filled with unanswered questions and things they wish they could say. Finally, Eddie breaks it.
“Are you by yourself?”
“Yeah, just me tonight,” Steve says, shrugging his jacket off. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. Steve didn’t really think it was that funny. Their constant need to skirt around the thing developing between them led to him saying some dumb stuff. He rolls his eyes at himself.
“I don’t think I could handle talking to anyone else tonight,” Eddie says, voice growing soft. “It’d be, I dunno, too much. With you, I can just… be, y’know?”
Steve is surprised—as he often is—at the honesty. He tries to make his next words sound casual, but he’s sure he fails miserably. “I’m glad I caught you then.”
“Yeah… me too.” Eddie doesn’t let the silence linger for too long this time. “So, any new Henderson theories to update me on?”
Steve snorts. “Of course.”
Letting him talk about his day at the Henderson’s, Eddie hums in the right moments, asks a few follow up questions, makes little jokes, but is otherwise quiet, seemingly content to just let Steve ramble. Happy to hear his voice. He lets Steve talk until he’s yawning too much to complete a full sentence.
“Sorry, I should let you go to sleep, it’s late.” Eddie’s tone is gentle, but like he’d rather be saying anything else.
“Nah, it’s cool, man,” Steve argues sleepily. “Don’t wanna waste your call.”
“It’s never wasted with you.”
“Eddie…” Steve doesn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but doesn’t know if he should. If he even could. He yawns again.
“Come on, bed time,” Eddie’s voice teases.
Steve feels the pull of his eyelids, begging for sleep. “Yeah, alright… Talk to you soon?” He tries to ask it casually, but again, can’t seem to manage it. Something like pleading coming through in his words.
“As soon as I can,” Eddie promises, voice tight with sincerity. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Eddie.” Steve pauses. “Merry Christmas.”
He can hear the sad smile in Eddie’s voice. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”
“How much longer now?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer.
“Two and a bit years,” Eddie sighs. “Past halfway, at least.”
Even Steve can tell he’s trying to convince himself it’s a good thing, but neither of them feel any happiness about it.
It’s been almost six months since Steve heard from Eddie, much longer than any gap between calls before. Anxiety gnaws away at him, a constant presence whispering in the back of his mind and sitting like a stone in his stomach. The kids—barely even kids now, having graduated high school—were starting to show their worry. He begged and pleaded with invisible entities that they’d hear something soon.
The phone finally rings.
“Hello?” Steve answers with urgency, as he did every time it rang these days.
“Steve?” the voice croaks.
“Eddie!” Bringing a hand to his face, Steve’s eyes welled with tears. “Eddie, are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures him, sounding anything but. “They just had us somewhere remote. We didn't have a phone.”
“What the fuck? Can they do that?” Quiet rage slips through Steve’s chest.
“Evidently, they can do whatever they want,” Eddie seethes. “Didn’t stop me from bringing hell at every check up until they moved us again.”
Steve winces at the pain in Eddie’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. It’s fucking awful, what they’re doing to you.”
“It’s bullshit!” Eddie snaps. “I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t believe this was their solution. Like, I’m the one demonised and hunted down in Hawkins and somehow I’m the one that ends up punished for it! It’s not even a solution. All it’s doing is fucking me around.” He takes a breath. “It’s hurting me. It’s hurting us.”
To anyone else, it would sound like Eddie meant him-and-Wayne-us, or even him-and-the-entire-party-us. But Steve knew. Heard it in the way he almost whispered it. Steve wanted to match his anger, throw something, hit something. Instead, he willed it down.
“It fucking sucks,” Steve says, keeping his tone soft. “But we’re so close to the end now. It’ll be over soon.”
“I just…” Eddie’s voice lowers. Steve can picture the way the air deflates out of him. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish… you could’ve come with me.”
“Me too.” Steve lets the back of his head hit the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I miss you. So much.”
“I miss you, too.” Eddie says it like it’s painful. Like it gets caught in his throat halfway up. Like he was saying something else entirely.
“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I called when I don’t really have anything to say.” It’d been close to silent for more than five minutes before Eddie says it, voice soft. Almost timid.
The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice at all. To know you’re alive.”
The silence settles between them again. Comfortable, somehow. Eddie’s voice is smaller when he speaks again. “Only six months left.”
“Only six months,” Steve repeats, slightly more optimistic.
“We can… we can do it, right?” Eddie sounds so unsure. Steve can picture him playing with his hair. “It’ll be okay? When you visit?”
Steve knows what he means. He’s felt the same way for a long time. Scared that once they’re reunited, whatever this thing was—this delicate bubble of vulnerability—between them would burst. Each phone call found it wound tighter and tighter, pulled like a rubber band that would eventually reach its limit and snap, hurting both of them in the process.
“It’ll be more than okay,” Steve says, sounding more sure than he feels. He wants more than anything to be able to hold him. To reach through the phone and wrap his arms tightly around him, feel the rise and fall of his breath and listen to his heartbeat.
“Promise?” Eddie asks, and Steve can picture him chewing on his nails.
“Promise.”
“One month left,” Steve whispers in the dead of night. No one else is there, but something about the late hour makes him quiet. Or maybe it’s what he’s saying. Like a wish that needs to be kept secret, or it won’t come true.
“One month,” Eddie repeats, just as soft. “You’ll be here?”
“Wherever you are, I’ll be there,” Steve assures him.
He’s sure Eddie can feel it too. The thing between them growing more palpable, more solid, more real. The less time they have left, the stronger it becomes. It terrifies both of them.
The car stops in an urban area of Chicago. Steve glances around as he gets out of the backseat, giving a quick thanks to the government official who drove him. His heart races. This is it. Double checking the address on the small piece of paper, he looks up to the block of apartment buildings, scanning the numbers.
Steve doesn’t need to look for long. At the next building, standing in the entryway, with his curly hair pulled into a messy bun, shadow of facial hair around his jaw, face more angular than Steve remembers, is—
“Eddie…” The name comes out in a soft breath, like a prayer. His eyes well up and he quickly blinks, as though the man might disappear if Steve couldn’t see him.
Whatever was holding Eddie to the stoop of his building breaks. He jumps down, skipping the stairs completely and landing with a thud of his boots. He runs, as quick as his legs allow him, until he crashes into Steve, almost knocking them both to the ground. With his arms around Steve’s neck, Eddie whispers his name over and over. Steve pulls him tight, arms wrapped around his waist. Steve can feel Eddie’s heartbeat matching his—racing, pounding, about to jump out of his chest. They hold each other like they’ll never let go, afraid that all of it could be taken away again.
Finally, Eddie pulls back, one hand softly entangled in Steve’s hair, and looks at him, huge eyes filled with tears. “You look different,” Eddie says with a wet laugh.
Steve can’t help but smile. “In a good way?”
Eddie nods with enthusiasm, grinning despite the tears. “In a really good way.”
Their eyes are locked on each other, and Steve can’t hold back anymore. He leans in, cautiously at first, before Eddie gives him a tiny nod, leaning in to meet him halfway. Their lips finally meet, crashing together, and Steve gasps at the feeling. It’s messy and desperate and shy. It’s everything they wished they could say, given to each other in their kiss. Steve brings his hands up to hold Eddie’s face, feeling the tears spill over and wiping them away with his thumbs.
They pull back, laughing and crying. Steve kisses him again and again and again, on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, before finally just looking, taking in every detail of Eddie’s face. The deep brown of his eyes, the thick lashes, the faint dusting of freckles across his nose. “I’m never letting you go. Never again.”
Eddie laughs again. It sounds like a sob. “Never again. You promise?”
“I promise,” Steve says reverently. “I love you, Eddie.”
Eddie’s smile grows wider, a fresh lot of tears spilling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”
#BETTER LATE THAN NEVER LMAO#i wrote most of this while sleep deprived and hungover so like. if you see a typo. no you didn't <3#saying everything except the things they want to say my beloved#cira writes#cira writes steddieangstyaugust#steddieangstyaugust#sobbing sunday#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things fic
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Peri was very upset about a lot of things that happened. Within a span of a week, he felt like his entire life has changed for the worst!! He had a dumb bulb on his wand, Timmy was still moving away, and he had to go to a school far from everyone he knew!!!
Of course, the cause and trigger of those emotions was Timmy. But Peri can’t blame his older brother for any of that. So the next logical conclusion for a small child to reach was to blame his parents instead!!! And boy did he blame a lot on his parents.
Many of Peri’s actions in his childhood stems from misplaced grief and anger. By the time he was old enough to know better, Peri got a mixture of stubbornness and a bruised ego to admit he was wrong for how he reacted.
Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]
Instability: [Start] > [Previous] > [END]
#fairly oddparents#fop#fop a new wish#fop peri#peri#fop irep#irep#asks#itty bitties fop au#one of peri and timmy's many shared promises was that peri ONLY wrote to timmy. CosWan were NOT allowed to see them or call him or talk or-#anyways if ur wondering why timmy was peri's primary guardian this is why#peri /had/ a lot of low contact form his parents. which just made them even MORE clingy when they did get to see him.#timmy worked hard to keep his promises to his little brother#even if it meant letting Peri spend the summers with AC and Irep instead of at CosWan's place#(timmy was the one who urged his parents to go on their honeymoon as a result. to help. yknow. distract them from it all)#also yaaayyy yipiee!!#11 whole parts!!! just for. just for 6 or so asks.#OTL#god i hope i can speed things up now#there shouldnt be any more mini stories until i reach the end of the inbox#so we can finally FINALLY get back to the present with chimmy moving and timmy dealing with HazDev
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you call the baby growing in your belly a multitude of things, like lovebug and gum drop and sprout. cute things, that remind you of how tiny it is and how full of joy you are, and the names don't stop even after you find out what you're having.
katsuki doesn't follow along—at first. every silly little term out of your mouth is only met with an arched brow and a small shake of his head, the occasional roll of his eyes and the even rarer uplift of the corner of his lips.
"he," katsuki always continues. "he ain't gonna care what color his room is, do whatever y'want."
there aren't many appointments he's able to make, something you think eats at him more than you. being involved with a pro hero requires all kinds of sacrifices and you both knew that before your relationship started—but facing the realities isn't always easy; it bothers him, in some deep, dark way he's not able to talk about. even with you.
it's hard to tell how he feels at the first one he comes along for: he stands, quietly, eyes glazed over and lingering on the grainy image of your ultrasound, unmoving. when two little feeties are made clear in the picture, he silently crosses his arms and raises a hand to pick at the skin of his bottom lip—a nervous habit, one that gives him something to do and that hides his face just a bit.
he doesn't say anything for a long time. not until you're out in the car with your pictures in hand, going over them in the passenger seat.
"sooooo," you prod, "what'd'ya think? he's kinda...blobby, huh?"
he casts you a lazy glance, comes alive with a slow inhale before holding his hand out for the photos. the one with the little feet sticks out to him and he snorts, the corner of his lip raising. "yeah," he murmurs, before turning his attention back to the road. "but he's just a little bean, ain't he?"
#cw children#cw pregnancy#then once yall can see him moving around he starts calling him big foot LMAO#and he takes the lil photos with him 😌#keeps them at work 😌#and then once he's born he calls him all kinds of thing#like little snot LOL#✿ thoughts: bakugou#✿ willow writes#✿ theme: dad bakugou#from drafts i wrote this in feb hehe
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[cw: weight loss, body image issues/body dysmorphia]
Consider: Steve whose migraines become unmanageable for a while, or who falls into a harsh depressive episode after everything with Vecna, or who experiences reduced mobility or chronic pain due to the many varied injuries he's picked up over the years, or any combination of the above
Steve who loses his appetite and who isn't able to keep up with the workout routine he used to have and who loses weight and loses muscle mass and fucking hates it
He's always been on the lean side, but he hasn't been skinny since probably eighth grade, when he was still gawky and growing into his frame. But this is different; this isn't awkward adolescence, something he'll grow out of, this is the sight of his ribs through his skin and his hipbones jutting out and his wrists getting too skinny for his watch. This is feeling cold all the time and struggling to lift things he used to be able to pick up without much trouble
(It's fear, too. Not just a fear that he'll never get back to where he used to be, but fear that something will happen and he'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to help. Too weak to protect anyone the way he should)
There are days he can't quite stand looking at himself; can't stand the sight of baggy clothes that used to fit perfectly, can't stand looking at tired eyes staring out of the sharpened angles of his face. He feels insubstantial this way. Like anyone could look right past him - right through him
Eddie never does, though. He never treats Steve differently, except to worry about his health - but never what he looks like. He hugs Steve as tightly as before, kisses him just as hard as before, whistles at him when he catches Steve in the middle of dressing, just like before. Like he isn't disappointed that Steve doesn't look good anymore, like he isn't even bothered
He'll hold Steve, and pull him close on bad days, and he'll let Steve be upset, but he'll never stand for Steve speaking badly about himself. He'll always push back, sometimes gently, sometimes loudly, always reminding Steve that he loves him, and what he looks like is a part of that. Reminding him that Eddie loves it all
"But you can gain it back, if you want to. When you're doing better," Eddie tells him
"What if I'm never doing better? What if I can never get back to where I was?" Steve demands. "What if this is just my body now?"
"Then it is." Eddie kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. "Then I'll help you learn how to love it as much as you did before. As much as I still do."
And he says it so openly, so honestly, that even on bad days, Steve thinks that maybe - maybe he could be okay
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#I see and love and adore all the chubby!Steve headcanons#but I was interested in going in the other direction this time#it's not something I've seen much of and I wanted to explore it just a bit#sort of the opposite of Steve putting on weight or not keeping up with his workout routine because he feels comfortable and safe now#cw weight loss#cw body image#cw body dysmorphia#sort of implied#eddiesteve#solar wrote
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The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.
#also idk how to tell you this but even if it were true. wealthy children potentially sacrificing their educational careers to protest is#a good thing actually. idk how to tell you that caring about people from other nations is good#personal#“this war has nothing to do with most students cuz nobody's getting drafted” idk how to explain to you that we should be angry#that our tuitions of 10s of thousands of dollars that we pay every year for an education is being used to fund a genocidal campaign#also the implication that if you go to a uni institution you are automatically privileged by participation no matter your bg#i didn't /want/ to go to this school. i was supposed to go to a school with an art/animation program. but i realized my immigrant#parents have been working their whole lives to get me here. and turning the opportunity down would be a disservice to their sacrifice#this is getting into convos of “what 2nd gen kids owe their parents” which is different for everyone but. yeah#i just get pissed off at seeing people misrepresenting student bodies as “wealthy” and “privileged” and “elite” when it's such a blatant li#i remember a year ago a friend told me they can't fly home to hong kong for winter break because the plane tickets are too expensive#so they have to find temporary housing around the area#last quarter for a film doc class my film partner made a doc on a small group of marxist grad students from india discussing praxis#during a rally a few months ago in response to police presence the coalition invited palestinian students to speak about their experiences#and lead songs and read poems they wrote. these are STUDENTS. are they elitist too?#this is not to disregard my own personal privilege either.#this whole narrative's just to rationalize a lack of empathy to me. seeing a 19yo student get shot by a rubber bullet and your first#reaction is “HAW! HAW! bet richy rich didn't see THAT coming when she put on her terrorist hood!”#newsflash. these big uni campuses are HAUNTED by the violence of past protests and revolutions and police brutality. we know.#why do you think these coalitions have been making reinforced barricades at record speed
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So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!
No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)
25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim
This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!
OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:
WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3
Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)
I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!
Below the cut:
I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)
On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)
Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)
I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)
I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)
I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)
1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)
2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)
3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)
4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)
5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)
On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)
6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)
7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)
8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)
9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)
10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)
Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)
11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)
12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)
13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)
14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)
15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)
I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)
16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have. If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)
17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)
17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)
18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)
19) In my head he’s the responsible one. (Gotham Knights 10)
I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)
20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)
21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)
22) I trust him. When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)
23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)
24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)
25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)
Final rambling thoughts:
TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.
SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.
And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf
All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.
But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!
Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.
And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --
-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3
#i enjoyed thinking about this so much i wrote a novel with All My Thoughts sorry sdfsdfs#tim drake#dick grayson#somewhat tangential but as i was writing this i was thinking about zahri's post#about how different types of stories offer different kinds of emotional payoffs#and i think for me for dick and tim the main two payoffs are:#1) someone who sees & understands your grief for deaths that will never get fixed or get better#and who will face your ghosts with you EVEN WHEN you're also mad at each other#2) someone who you look at and you see all the ways that you suck & he's better & you're a loser who's failed him etc etc#but it turns out that you're wrong. that you're good enough. not that none of the failures were real or that they were all in your head#but it turns out that it's okay that you didn't always immediately do or feel the right thing#and it's okay that you weren't perfect. you can fuck up six thousand ways & everything you did right will still matter#not because of making excuses or allowances or somebody pityingly trying to make you feel better#but because in the end the things you did right are just Genuinely More Valuable than anything you did wrong#all the times you tried & everything that you tried to give - everything you think wasn't good enough - it was.#IN OTHER WORDS they are both convinced they're not good enough & they are both wrong <3#anyway dick and tim are both INCREDIBLY SIMILAR and also CONSTANTLY misreading each other and i love that for them#and like. they will sometimes totally misread each other & then never figure out the part that they misunderstood#but then they manage to keep going anyway. we love each other on purpose <333#ask tag#dick&tim
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short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !
-
"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"
"I've been banned from the hospital."
"Like, for life?"
"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."
"That's oddly specific."
"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."
"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"
"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."
"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"
"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."
"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"
"Confiscated."
"Ah, right, of course."
A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"
"No, no. You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."
"Alright. Thank–"
"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."
"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."
"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."
"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.
Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.
Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience.
"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."
Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"
"Today's Wednesday."
He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"
"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."
Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.
"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.
"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"
"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”
“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”
“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”
“Maybe??”
“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”
“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.
“Aw shit. You good bro?”
“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”
“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.
“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”
“Ouch.”
“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.
Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”
“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”
“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”
“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”
“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”
“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”
Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.
Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.
“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”
Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.
“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”
“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.
“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”
—
Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.
Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”
“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”
Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”
Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”
“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”
—
Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.
Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.
“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”
Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”
“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”
“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.
“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”
“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”
“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”
“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”
“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.
When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”
“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”
“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”
“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”
“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”
“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”
“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”
#writing#op#whery if i realized anything while doing this its that we need 2 get you a custom theme....#1) anyone whos not logged in will be able to see all your posts w/ no limits#2) (and the more important COUGHCOUGH) it'll be so much easier to find shit on your blog#if you want a cool blog layout lmk and i'll hook you up but for now#there are many benefits to a custom tumblr url........ being able to search /tagged for better blog organization is one of them#if there's a switch to writing style i wrote the first half of this in april 2023 so thats why!!#also lmao i jus spent the weekend w/ my brother so if its too mean-spirited thats unintentional n i'm prolly channeling is all#sighhhhhhh i love when they look after each other its so very very good#wittb has been great but i do wanna see them get up to other shenanigans later#after the comic (plot) at large i mean#little one-off side things still in the modern au#enjoy the rest of artfight month for now tho!!!#(< says someone who has been putting off af attacks to write things again)
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“aziraphale makes all the plans so crowley can complain about them” i'm still here honestly. let me know when the plot is over so we can go back to this
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hey guess who’s absolutely losing it over the stan twins again (spoiler alert its me)
so i was innocently scrolling tiktok when i was introduced to this DIABOLICAL au idea: firstly, what if ford really had shot stan with his crossbow when stan first showed up at the shack? and secondly, what if ford tried to bring him back to life frankenstein-style? (full credit to tiktok user @44boora for this idea, go check their account for some gut-wrenching art) (also… full post below the cut this got long)
but like i was thinking about this, ford bringing stan back to life specifically, and how dependent the concept is on this specific time in his life. i just feel like any other time and under any other circumstance, ford would have been able to, eventually, accept stan’s death. we see it at the end of weirdmageddon, where ford is ready to accept that the stan they all know and love is gone now that his memory has been erased. he tells mabel as much, and only realizes there’s hope for him when mabel is determined enough to push back against ford’s logic. ford believes very intensely in his own perception of the world. he believes in science. theoretically, he believes death is death, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.
but then, think of ford after he’s been betrayed by bill. this ford is at his absolute lowest. he can’t trust his own perception of the world anymore. he’s seen the truth of what their relationship was and the horrors he was so close to unleashing on their universe. he is desperate to right his wrongs. he’s losing sleep, his body is abused every time he closes his eyes, and the end of the world as he knows it is iminent if he doesn’t succeed in making the portal as secure and unusable as possible without dismantling it entirely. the only person he believes he can trust after everything that’s happened is stan. so he contacts him for help, and in his time waiting for him to arrive, cannot stop thinking of the worst-case scenario: that bill could still be coming for him. so when he opens the door to stan, his high-strung, paranoid brain doesn’t see stan, and he shoots.
he shoots his own brother with a crossbow and kills him.
ford is not usually one to blatantly ignore a scientific fact. again, death is death, and there’s nothing he can do about that. and yet, in a state of such intense grief, when his entire world is already close to crumbling around him and he’s holding his dead brother in his arms, there’s nothing else he can feasibly do but deny. so he does.
he lives in denial of a lot of things. that stan’s death is final, obviously, but also his reasonings for attempting to do the impossible and revive him. ford likes to believe he operates purely on logic, so he tells himself he’s doing this because he has to. without stan, he can’t prevent bill from entering their universe. he’s still the only person ford can trust, so reviving him is another step in his ultimate goal of stopping bill and saving the world. it doesn’t matter that its never been done before, ford will do it anyway. and he believes that he can, because as much as he thinks he’s moved on from his hubris, he’s still acting off the assumption that he’s special. he’s so far ahead of everybody else, so naturally, if anybody could accomplish the impossible and bring stan back from the dead, its ford.
and so he denies that the real reason he’s trying to save stan is not a logical one. he denies that he’s running entirely on emotions. it would be foolish to try something so risky and impossible and time-consuming if he were only doing it because of his crushing guilt and decade-long yearning, so he tells himself there’s so much more to it than that. he can’t just be doing this because he loves him, right? he’s not that shallow. he’s not that desperate.
and yet, he is. because as much as ford wants to deny it, he can’t live without stan. he can’t live with the knowledge that he was responsible for stan’s death. if he didn’t succeed, his grief would surely kill him.
#this concept is consuming my every waking thought#there’s just something so… cathartic? about their roles being reversed and ford saving stan#i feel like so many people downplay just how much ford loves him#the amount of times ford mentioned stan in his journal? UGH.#and that’s just journal 3!!! and only the things he wrote down!!#imagine how often he must have thought of him… he holds stan and his childhood so dear its devastating#there’s no question in my mind that ford would pull a victor fucking frankenstein just to see his brother again#i’m so devastated about this#ripping my hair out#gravity falls#stanford pines#ford pines#stanford#stanley pines#stan pines#ford and stan#stangst#stanford pines analysis#analysis#gravity falls au#frankenstein au
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