#see you tomorrow or whatever.

[juney-blues]

there is, famously, a huge amount of social pressure on gnc cis people to transition. society just wants more trans people, trans women especially. this is a real and serious problem. there are just too many trans women making egg jokes. we have to protect the poor cis people from being compared to us (which is clearly and self evidently a horrible thing to do clearly)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

pov: you are charles xavier and you have been invited onto asteroid m

bonus:

[bluuscreen]

on being a hero and the irrational guilt that comes with being imperfect — part 1/2

part 2 | headcanon/au being referenced

[rouge-fauna]

Normally, I wouldn't really say anything about the drama and stuff, because that's not what I'm here for and honestly I feel like a lot of it is just none of my business. But, it just feels so close to home for me that I can't help but say something. Because here's the thing people aren't going to talk about and probably don't even realize, but I think so much of this drama actually has to do with Dream being autistic.

Just notice the themes of what Tubbo said about Dream being weird, inappropriate, not considering the social boundaries, not communicating, coming across wrong… etc these are all things that can be attributed to Dream literally not knowing better because of neurodivergence. That’s not an excuse but an explanation to know the difference between Dream texting Tommy’s mom out of being manipulative versus not understanding how that breaks a social boundary. That’s not to say Dream should get a free pass to do whatever but I think in the same way we take into consideration other people’s ages and their naivety and obliviousness and inexperience into consideration, Dream’s neurodivergence should be considered too. It is valid. It makes a difference between manipulative and malicious intent versus simply not seeing it the same way.

And really the sad thing is, that I think people will always dislike Dream. At the end of the day, I think that will never change, because even if he was the most perfect person people would still dislike him because of an underlying subconscious response to him not being like the rest. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he is made the villain in real life and in the dsmp, because it is simply a psychological fact that people inherently dislike autistic people. It’s not because they are ableist it’s just we don’t act like they do so that makes us weird and therefore unlikeable. And it’s hard to understand us because our brains our literally different and as has been said throughout history what we don’t understand we hate, we fear, we see as evil, we attack. Why does Dream get canceled and attacked over and over again? Not because they are true and it proves a pattern that he’s shitty, but because society is so desperate to find a more tangible reason to hate him other than the fact that they just do. Because his behavior breaks social rules he didn’t realize existed. Because he’s easy pickings. Because in my opinion it all comes down to autism and honestly until that piece is actually taken into consideration nothing will probably resolve.

[housecow]

im getting so many seemingly normie followers… im torn between faithfully keeping y’all’s secret and being incredibly suspicious some of y’all are using my blog to further ur own self hate

in either case, hmmm!!!!

[petrichorium]

also on my hands and knees dying to know about ur divorce (and perhaps reconciliation maybe…) with sir croc

Firstly I wanna say croc is THE reason for the divorced tier I had everyone in the husband/fiance/bf (and cusp + complicated) tiers I had the list downloaded and then I looked at croc in the husband tier and I was like no. Divorced………

Anyway I think you’re a marriage of convenience at first. Crocodile needs a wife to look more like An Upstanding Citizen Ready To Settle Down for his plans in Alabasta, you need the stability and rapport for your own reasons. A deal was struck (including a nice shiny prenup and an easy way out for both of you), the wedding goes off without a hitch, and now you’re cohabitating.

You’re all but a stranger, truthfully, though he’ll admit you were one of the most beautiful brides he’s seen walking down the aisle. And he finds your presence in his home less distracting than expected—you stay out of his way mostly, though the pair of you eat meals together and sleep in the same bed and you are always expected to be on his arm for formal occasions. You’re more than decent company, slowly warming to him and growing more open; willing to give advice on occasion, even, and it’s good advice he’s prone to heeding.

Which is why he’s blindsided when you drop the papers on his desk. There’s little he can do—they were practically already signed before the wedding, and in the surprise he can’t compose himself enough to think up a proper protest. All he can do is fold his hands together as you turn to leave, clear his throat, and call out, “Might I ask why?”

You shrug. It almost seems sad. “I want something more. You’re a very busy man, I don’t think you can give that to me.”

And those words haunt him, all the more because every trace of you is gone in the span of a few days. He lays in his bed, alone, pondering how much you truly lived in his home and how much he truly had to give you. He thought he made sure you wanted for nothing—but, clearly, that wasn’t the case. And if he’d known you’d be gone in the span of a few years…

In hindsight perhaps he’d been a bit distant. His work took up the vast majority of his time. All those meals were more often than not spent in silence, with Crocodile leaving long before you finished your food; you were often asleep before he came to bed, still slumbering when he woke; he’d arrive to those formal events with you on his arm and part ways almost immediately, drawn to meet with some politician or another and leaving you on your own.

The bed feels empty.

And then he gets a report about Nefertari Vivi. It all goes downhill from there. The empire he spent years building crumbles beneath his feet, toppled by that godforsaken princess and the upstart pirate with a straw hat. And as he’s carted off to Impel Down… he still thinks of you.

It’s perhaps a good thing that you left when you did. In a certain sense it saved you, severing ties with him when you did. But foolishly he wonders about the timing—wonders if it would have happened at all if you’d stayed. Logically he knows the rationale is anything but sound.

Instinctively… whenever he gets out, whatever he intends to do next, he thinks he needs you at his side again.

So when the break-out happens, and Crocodile is given a freedom he’d nearly given up on, the first thing he does is begin to track you down.

It takes more than he thought it would. His web of informants isn’t half of what it once was, and his name no longer pulls as much weight, forced to remain in the shadows as he now is. You, meanwhile, catch onto the mystery person trying to keep tabs on you far too quickly for his liking—flighty thing, never quite setting down roots, quick to flee at the first sign of danger. A trait that has only seemed to worsen in his absence, it seems.

But it’s only a matter of time. He’s Sir Crocodile after all, back from banishment to the depths of the ocean, sure to see the sun again. His men close in on you within a year as he builds up his numbers again, but Crocodile ensures he’s the first to make contact.

He intends to show you immediately how things will be different this time.

You’ve made temporary home on a quaint little island, sharing a house with a little old granny who lets him in eagerly when he presents a bouquet and says it’s for you. There he waits, served tea and biscuits that he doesn’t taste.

And then the door opens. You pause when you see him, eyes wide—donning a breezy sundress you’d never have worn for him in Alabasta, your hair wind-tousled so unlike the meticulous updos he always saw you in, with a basket of produce under arm—and the sight of you has his chest unwinding. It’s like he can breathe again.

Not that he had any intentions to before, but the smell of your familiar perfume steels his resolve to never let you disappear again.

[duskerot]

i disappear inside myself / my friends don't know it can't be helped

[Pure You - Nothing But Thieves]

[ash-and-starlight]

I see the fandom’s “Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe” Sokka and raise y’all “Emerging Technologies Advisor, Sokka of the Water Tribe.” Working with all the nations as a emissary for scientists and engineers, introducing these new techs to world leaders and brainstorming ways to integrate them helpfully into society — really, he just gets to travel a lot and mess around with machines and I think these are two things that Sokka would excel so so very much at

thiiiisss this so much this his ass would Not settle in the fire nation permanently!!! he travels all over the world!! he sees and learns all the things he couldn’t experience while ending the war!! he fixes things everywhere he goes as easy as breathing. he’s the one behind the southern water tribe cultural center in republic city and behind this huge ass ‘fuck you zuko try to destroy this now’ watchtower/lighthouse in the swt capital.

he has a traveling food critic column and a published haiku collection and fifteen new inventions patents and is just as fundamental for bringing on an age of peace and prosperity as anyone else. so yeah emerging technologies advisor, poet, swordsman, inventor, councilor, storyteller, warrior, artist, white lotus member, food blogger, pai sho champion, trendsetter sokka of the southern water tribe ftw forever amen

[arrow-v-flash-polls]

At this point this has become the only way I settle creative conversations (disagreements) regarding the Arrowverse. A recent one I was having was which name for Leonard Snart was more popular within the fandom. I argue he's addressed more as Snart while they disagree. So which name pops into your heard first when thinking of the icy anti hero?

[brodorokihousuke]

I really have to wonder... how did Apollo react to Trucy being held for ransom at the end of Dual Destinies?

I don't think he ever mentions it, and he isn't around when Aura initially informs Phoenix of the fact, meaning he might've not even known that she was one of those held in the space center. However, the news could've mentioned it, or Aura could have told him directly... and it's personally more interesting if he knew, haha. So.

Considering how he acted following Trucy's little fake kidnapping in Turnabout Corner, he had to have been freaking the hell out- though this may have just fed into his at-the-time cold demeanor. The next time we really see him is during his testimony, too, so he could've just channeled all of that into anger at Athena- she's the reason all of this was happening anyways, right..?

Afterwards, though, along with the Phantom, he really only had Aura to blame. And while, yes, it did all technically get the case to go to trial- which was good in the long run-, he feels awful that he worked with someone who then turned around and directly threatened someone he very deeply cared about (Trucy). Just another thing to make him feel alienated from the WAA in general...

[svampira]

it's not like you're going to remember this, anyway

[xxplastic-cubexx]

//LOUD INCOMPREHENSIBLE POINTING//

[shroomerr]

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! here's some of my fave/most popular art I did in 2024 <3

[b4kuch1n]

about ready

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 115

Part 1 Part 114

Will could tell they were coming well before his bedroom door opened, both their presences shining like a beacon, brighter and brighter the closer they came.

It’s still a surprise to see their faces. Eddie looks excited enough to be verging on manic, the same way he does when there’s a particularly juicy twist in a campaign he’s been planning out. In contrast, Steve looks almost grave. Not worried, but something serious in the slant of his mouth as Eddie tugs him inside and shuts the door.

“What’s going on?” Will asks, looking between the pair for clues, and finding none.

“Nothing serious,” Steve replies. He commandeers Will’s desk chair while Eddie flops into the bed beside Will, wriggling around until he’s stollen all the covers and wrapped them around himself like a human burrito.

“We’ve just got something to tell ya,” Eddie continues, beaming up at Will.

Neither of them continues, so Will looks back and forth between them. Eddie’s eyes are downright twinkling, while Steve stares at the side of Eddie’s head, glaring.

“Fine,” Steve grumbles, finally turning to meet Will’s eyes. “Eddie and I are dating.”

Will nods, maintaining eye contact as he waits for Steve to keep talking. He doesn’t. “That’s it?”

Eddie squawks,  slithering up in bed, still so swaddled in blankets that he looks formless. “What do you mean, that’s it?” he demands, elbowing Will in the ribs, but it’s through all the blankets so Will barely feels it.

“Weren’t you guys already dating?”

Eddie’s mouth is hanging open, formless consonants leaking out of him. Steve steeples his fingers and leans forward, elbows on knees.

“It’s just, Eddie said—”

Eddie wriggles his arm free just in time to slap it over Will’s mouth with an awkward laugh. “Shut, up, Baby Byers,” he hisses, a faux smile on his face.

Steve leans back in the chair, lets his hands land loosely on the armrests. He’s smirking like there’s a canary in his mouth, and for the first time, Will can almost see the cool guy everyone acts like Steve is.

Not the real kind of cool that Steve actually is, but the kind who’d throw parties, and sit on a high school throne he hadn’t even built himself.

“What did you say, Eddie?” he asks, still smirking, and oh, is this flirting?

Will contorts his body until he’s free of Eddie’s silencing hand. “He said he was in love with you,” Will says.

Eddie sags into himself with a groan, burying his face into the blanket he’s still wrapped in. He looks like a pill bug, the only flesh visible a little bit of one of his ankles. Will pokes it and Eddie jerks, raising his head just enough to pout at Will.

“Is that so,” Steve says, but it’s not phrased like a question. Will answers it anyway.

“He said you looked like an angel in the Upside-Down, when we saw all those lights at my house for the first time?” Will feels his own face blushing as he remembers the way the lights had shone down on Steve, painted him in gold like it was his birthright.

Steve’s not smirking anymore, he’s gone all weird and gooey in the face. It only gets worse when Eddie makes a whining noise.

“Is that where the nickname came from?” he mutters quietly enough that it barely carries to Will’s ears. When Steve starts speaking again, it’s at his normal volume. “Wait, where was I for this?”

Eddie sits up at that, uncocooning himself enough to free his arms but keeping it over his head like an extremely unfashionable cloak.

“Uh…” he starts, shifting forward to stare into Steve’s eyes. “You were possessed?”

Steve grimaces, and all Kingly posturing falls away as he slumps back into the chair, crossing his arms in a way that looks more like a hug. Eddie must think so, too, because he latches onto Steve’s pantleg with grabby fingers and pulls until Steve settles onto Will’s bed with them.

“Were there any witnesses to this little declaration?” Steve asks, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Just Mom and Uncle Wayne,” Will replies.

Steve nods, slow as he meets Will’s gaze. “…and your Mom was.”

“She doesn’t care,” Will cuts in. Steve lets out a relieved breath that Will feels in his bones. He’d felt that worry when she’d let out a shocked gasp at Eddie’s declaration, had felt it wither away when he’d seen her hopeful face. “She just wanted you back.”

“We all did,” Eddie cuts in, throwing his stolen blanket over Steve’s shoulders, Will nestled between them both. “And we thought maybe trying to reach you in there would work?”

Steve laughs, but it’s all wet and choked up in itself. “And you said you were in love with me?” Steve asks. He reaches around Will to smooth down Eddie’s mussed bangs, the one cheek Will can see from his angle turning a light pink. “That’s so embarrassing for you.”

Eddie grumbles but leans into Steve’s touch all the time. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” he asks. “We could feel you in there. You must’ve heard us.”

Will cranes himself away to look at Steve’s face, compromising the integrity of their ramshackle blanket fort enough that he tears it off Eddie and Steve entirely.

Steve doesn’t seem to have even noticed. His eyes are distant, glazed over like he’s looking at something else entirely.

Will never wants to see that distance on Steve Harrington’s face ever again, not after black smoke and a Steve that isn’t, so he tugs on their connection, and he comes back alive.

“I think I heard some of it?” he says, holding the palm of his hand to his ear like he’s listening to the ocean. He goes distant again, but Will’s pretty sure he’s just trying to remember, so he resists the temptation to pull him free. “What did everyone else say?”

Eddie reaches out and links his pinkie with Steve’s. “Oh, the same sappy shit we’ve all said to your face,” Eddie replies, but he’s smiling. “Baby Byers acted like it was his job to save you, and fawned over you like you’re some goddamn action hero.”

“Hey!” Will cries, but Steve’s laughing, so he doesn’t mind, especially not when Steve tugs on him this time, beaming at him like he’s a revelation.

“Uncle Wayne, the cantankerous old man that he is, said you were like a son to him.”

“Mom just asked you to come home,” Will cuts in. Steve’s eyes are shining.

“And I declared my undying love to you in front of all and sundry,” Eddie finishes, rearranging their linked pinkies so he can tangle the rest of their fingers together as well.

“You’re all so embarrassing,” Steve says, but he reaches out and bully’s Will into his arms. Eddie, never one to turn down a hug, worms his way into the situation immediately and applies enough pressure to make both their ribs creak.

They stay like that for a long time, until Mom calls, “boys, breakfast!” from somewhere in the house.

Eddie’s the first to let go with a contented sigh, scrabbling up off Will’s. He’s skipped halfway out the door before either of them has even stood up.  

“Has Mama Byers learned to cook since the last time we were here?” Eddie asks, leaning back in to grin cheekily at Will. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for eggs that are somehow rubbery and watery at the same time.”

Part 116

[strawberrycowtime]

doodles!

closeups under the cut