Can I vent????
Defending Megumi from Twitter's accusations of being useless and a "potentialman" is taking five years off my life.
I avoid arguing with people on twt because I want peace in my life, but I get so angry when they spout unrealistic facts about Megumi, saying that he is uninteresting and useless and has no personality.
And I just feel like crying in frustration.
Because Megumi is constantly being played for shit and having his victories diminished. As if people are saying he's better off staying dead, but not in the sense of "because it would be worse for him to live with the guilt" but rather in the sense of "he's boring and a horrible character".
I hate when they say that about my child who just wanted to save the people he loves. And I hate that they all need to diminish Megs' importance just to praise their favorites. Like, I know Yuta is amazing and Choso had a great development, but why do you have to state in any post I make about Megumi about how "horrible her character is"???? I don't need to hear Mahoraga's joke for the fiftieth time or be bombarded by Megumi's panel into the abyss when I just want to comment on how much I like your sea urchin hair. T-T
I accept these things harmlessly because most of my moots don't like Megumi, and I can even joke with them a little about it, but it's getting unbearable.
I'm not one to break friends because of ships or fictional characters, but it's annoying that I can't comment/reblog anything about my favorite ship without some moot coming up to comment on how I'm "sick for shipping this" or "I have bad taste in characters".
One of my moots just started telling everyone that I ship sanegiyuu after I started following a girl who talks about them.
This made me uncomfortable.
These people are my friends, I want to talk about the things I like with them. Why can't I follow and comment on the things I like on my profile??? It would be like stopping writing about itafushi here on tumblr just because some idiots told me it's horrible!
I've never forced ships on anyone or used them to judge my knowledge about jjk, I've always tried to be polite when I try to correct someone about something (some people argued with me about stsg just because I defended a girl's thread about them), so I would like to have the same respect.
Am I going to be such an asshole to block this moot???
I don't want them to think I'm arrogant.
Or maybe I should just create a new account focused on just my ships and forget about it for a while????
I think this would be the best solution.
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The year is 2030.
At the Cincinnati stop of her "world tour", Taylor Swift ends her set. As she walks off the stage, she leans into a nearby mic and says "oh by the way, I'm lesbian".
She's still milking a public relationship with a man named Chett Whitesman, so this is met with a combination of cheers and confusion. Immediately, the media mobilizes. They have to intercept her before she gets onto her private jet, and ambush her for an interview. Luckily, this has become much easier these days. Since the release of her 2027 album, "The Carbon Emissions of my Heart", T Swizzle has performed a ritual sacrifice of an endangered species on live camera every time she boards her jet, a #girlboss way of saying that her emotional pain can only be healed by the tortured screams of drowning polar bears.
(Since this practice started, a devoted faction of Swifties have started a carbon negative algae farming commune, with the express intent of negating taytay sweezie's contributions to climate change. Apparently "her tortured soul deserves to pollute without guilt". They haven't even come close to their goals.)
Taytor Twift is intercepted after this ritual, as she's walking up the steps of her plane. When asked what the lesbian statement was about, she nonchalantly says "oh, I thought it was clear that was a joke. Anyways, G T G!" , before biting into the still beating heart of an emperor penguin.
During her flight, discourse on the newly renamed twitter-X-ElonIsExtremelyVirile Corp goes nuclear like it never has been before.
There's a camp of swifties thoroughly convinced that her relationship with Chett is all a beard so that she can still keep touring in the New Christian Republic of Florida, and the interview at the plane was deepfaked.
A different camp of Swifties feels insulted and betrayed that she would be anything less than a paragon of allyship. To them, this is the worst slight the queer community has ever experienced.
A third camp of Swifties insists that she *is* dating Chett, and is also a lesbian. They get insulted that anyone would police Taylor's labels. Comparisons to the Boulder, Colorado shooter are made.
A group of non Swifties tries to point out that everyone is fucking insane and that 'ole taytay regularly tear gases pride rallies to make way for her promenade to stadium venues, and who the fuck cares about this shit and point out that what a billionaire celebrity does for five minutes of PR is not worth your attention or discourse, nor does it warrant harassing other people for the labels *they* use, and isn't it really fucked up that Taylor is making a joke of how people describe their identities? They are promptly doxxed, harassed, and banned.
Bi lesbian discourse is off the charts. Nothing Taylor said has anything to do with it, but it happens anyways.
A lone transsexual who actually goes outside once in a while tweets "hey guys isn't it kinda fucked up that 2.4 billion people have been displaced by mega storms this year that her jet contributes to and is also specifically designed to fly over" and is promptly doxxed and harassed off the platform.
After an exhausting 9 minute plane ride, Tailing Swiffer lands in Columbus for the next performance of her world tour. She unveils a new single that contains the line "ride my horse after dumping him, stepping up onto my SAD dle".
All is forgotten. All is quiet. The Swifties continue as usual, moving on to the next discourse about these lyrics.
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So you'll see tomorrow
A/N: Seeing a beautiful piece of artwork by @velnna and listening to Half life by Livingston I got a very angsty idea for a drabble (so be warned, it's sad). This idea came to me first a while back listening to Just a Man (you know from *that* BG3 edit). @velnna as always thanks for letting me play with your son - and sorry I hurt him... Also thank you to Dad on Maf's discord server for the inspo for the final line.
Warnings: implied character death (but this is just an alternate timeline ok??), self sacrifice
~~~
So this was it.
This is how they would all die.
There was no way they would defeat the Netherbrain. All their endeavours that led them here, all for naught. Unless…
Staeve saw it in his eyes first. How their expression changed from swimming and hopeless to hardened and determined. Astarion’s brows drew together - the crease they created between them as sharp as his daggers he lifted up once more.
“Staeve.”
He had never heard his voice like this. The tone as sharp as a knife and hard as rock.
It scared him.
“I’m going to create an opening for you. Be ready.”
Fear dug its claws into Staeve’s throat, choking him, as he began to realise what was about to happen.
“No,” the half-drow whispered, weakly grabbing for his lover’s wrists with all of his remaining strength.
“Astarion, no! You can’t do this!”
Panic gave Staeve new power. Helped him to forcefully turn Astarion around to him. Helped him make his love stare into his eyes as he screamed at him again. And again.
He shook him, even making the daggers drop from his pale, blood-speckled fingers.
Staeve kept screaming, feeling his voice become hoarse, hot streams of tears washing away the grime and gore as they made their way down his face.
But as he kept throwing everything at Astarion he noticed ruby eyes remaining hard and unfaltering. The decision had been made.
The last of his strength went with his last drop of hope as Staeve’s hands fell weakly from Astarion’s. His legs gave up, knees hit the ground hard.
And only then did Astarion shift, taking a final step back before making the run-up.
He dropped down in front of Staeve who could only stare up at him anymore.
“Let me do this one thing right, Staeve,” he whispered solemnly, cupping his love’s face. “Just this once let me make things right.”
Staeve’s vision was blurred, his head swimming. But he still clearly saw the warmth in Astarion’s eyes as he leaned his forehead to Staeve’s.
Astarion’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck as he pressed his eyes closed. “Promise me, you’ll live for me, Staeve. To the fullest.” When the vampire opened his eyes again, Staeve was sure there were tears in Astarion’s eyes as well.
There was nothing in Staeve to do or say. He wasn’t in control of anything anymore it felt like. Not even his own body as he solely kept listening to Astarion’s final words.
“And promise me,” the vampire continued, voice breaking, “sometimes - when you sit in the sun - you’ll think of me, Staeve. Promise me.”
Astarion only waited only long enough for Staeve to weakly nod, seemingly the only thing he was still capable of.
Then he crushed his mouth to his lover’s, the motion so forceful their teeth crashed together.
Desperation had them kiss so hard it hurt, that it felt like perishing already. Astarion’s hand on Staeve’s neck pressed down so hard it felt like bones might crush. A single last breath was passed between them as their lips moved against each other as they tried to make this the most vivid moment they had ever experienced.
One so he could never possibly forget this final kiss - how it had felt.
The other so he would go to his end, with the taste of his lover on his lips.
When a small eternity ended and Astarion broke away he grabbed Staeve’s face a final time.
“I know in another life, I would have loved you forever,” Astarion uttered with a smile.
Then he let go, Staeve almost toppling over, suddenly void of anything still lifting him up.
Astarion grabbed his daggers, turned around with a last glance and a smirk - and then he leapt.
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It takes a lot to break a ghost. After all, even death didn’t keep them down for long, not in any way that mattered.
There is, however, a sure fire way to utterly crush a ghost’s core without even touching it.
Find their grave, and defile it.
It is the height of cruelty. It is the ultimate act of disrespect. It is violation, of the deepest kind, an act that can never, ever be allowed to go unpunished.
As Danny stared at the remains of the toppled over rock tower that Tucker and Sam had made for him all those years ago, to honor his death, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this.
——
Please.
Zatanna looked around. The magician knew better than to write off the sound as a trick of her mind.
You have to help him. Please. He’s just a child.
“Who? What’s wrong?” Zatanna asked, heart aching for the grieving whispers of the young voice.
My brother. His grave. It’s been destroyed. Please.
Zatanna’s hair stood on ends. “What’s his name? Where is it?”
Amity Park. His name is Phantom. Please. Hurry.
Her heart skipped a beat. Phantom. The name of the Infinite Realm’s Champion, the future king.
“Shit. I’m on my way. Can you lead me there?”
I can’t. I won’t be here for much longer. Tell him Jazz sent you. Please. Help him. Help him.
“I will.”
When Zatanna portals out of her dressing room, she catches a flash of red hair.
——
“CONSTANTINE!”
“Gah! Zatanna?” John Constantine fell out of his chair, legs slipping from their place propped onto the table.
“Emergency! Infinite Realms level. Someone destroyed Phantom’s grave.”
Constantine scrambled upwards, pulling on his coat as his mind all but bleated like a highland goat at the sound of “Infinite Realms” and “Phantom’s grave.” Destroying a ghost’s grave might destroy the ghost, but if they survive the initial splintering, right before their final death, they’ll explode in a ball of fury. Normally, it would be slightly less of a problem. Normally, it wouldn’t be the most powerful ghost in the Infinite Realms. Normally, this wouldn’t happen. Normally, even if it did, it wouldn’t risk a war none of the universes would win. The Infinite Realms loves prince Phantom. Their grief over this… even if he survives, the consequences would be unimaginable.
“You contact the League. I have to go fix this, right now.”
John doesn’t bother going for his hottle, because he unfortunately needed to do this sober.
“Go, go!”
——
Danny doesn’t turn even as he hears the crunch of grass blades. He sits, staring blankly at what used to be his grave marker.
“Hi, there,” it’s a woman. She sounds sad. Danny understands, because all he feels is a whistling hole where his heart used to be. “Are you Phantom?”
Danny sighs, ice crackling at his lungs. He knows, when this is over, he’ll find it in himself to rage. If he doesn’t shatter from this, he knows he’ll take Amity out. Perhaps he’d spare this one. It’s been a long time since anyone bothered visiting or even knew about his grave.
“Your highness…your sister sent me. Jazz?”
That got Danny’s attention. Glowing green eyes peeked from the curled ball of ghost to stare Zatanna down.
She swallowed.
“She… had red hair?”
“Why are you here?” Why did she send you? He doesn’t say. Zatanna seems to understand anyways.
“To help. Please, will you let me help?”
Danny looks down at the ice freezing her feet to the ground and thinks of the kind set of her eyes, the steel backing her spine, the carefully nonthreatening posture. Yes, Jazz would send this kind of person to help him.
The ice melts.
“Thank you.”
Danny watches as she approaches his destroyed grave. She glances back for his permission. He shrugs. It’s destroyed. Nothing would ever bring it back.
And then, he was proven wrong.
Zatanna’s eyes glow, and the stones began melding itself back together- no, it was reversing the damage and zooming back to its proper place.
“Oh.”
The damage to his core was still there. But… he won’t kill this one at all.
Or her friends, who stand at the edge of the clearing with the soul-torn one standing at the helm.
“Is this… alright, your highness?”
Danny stares at Zatanna. His voice is hoarse but… but it’s not on the verge of insanity anymore.
“Do you always come to graves without an offering?”
He knows he’s being rude. He’s past the point of caring. Zatanna’s response is to pull a bouquet of lilies from behind her back.
——
Phantom’s face is so young, and it’s even younger when he smiles.
“Not always,” Zatanna replies, rolling her eyes. But when she settles the flowers down, they’re gently placed.
“Can you magic clovers around it?” Phantom asks, that note of painful hope cracking her own heart. She wonders how old he was when he died.
“Of course.”
A field of clovers surrounds the rock tower, and Zatanna adds four layers of heavy wards around the area when she grows them. Phantom notices, and looks up at her with… trust.
“I am Zatanna. Your sister, Jazz, sent me.”
“Okay. You can call me Phantom.”
——
“I want their heads.” Danny says.
“We don’t kill.”
“Then hand them over to us, for they have hurt the Great One. They will answer for their crimes.” Frostbite settles a hand on Danny’s shoulder.
“Alright.”
“Constantine.”
Constantine somehow manages to drag Batman away to hiss in his ears.
“Shit in a hole, Batsy, I’m not fucking with the Infinite Realms. My demons won’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Destroying a ghost’s grave is an act of war, and an act of complete violation, and we’re lucky Phantom liked Zee enough not to completely bring ruin to our universe. So shut up, and get the bastards that did this.”
“Hm.”
——
Zatanna sits in the visitors chair, Batman’s and Constantine’s disgruntled selves standing behind her.
“How old are you, Phantom?”
“Hm?” The future King looks exhausted, understandably. “Oh, sixteen.”
“You’re… sixteen? That’s how old you look, right?”
She’s hoping that he’s older, that he’s a millennia and a half years old. Because if he wasn’t, whoever broke Phantom’s grave, broke the grave of a child.
“No, I’m sixteen. My body looks fourteen. I died when I was fourteen.”
Constantine swears.
Batman straightens and walks out, fists clenched.
Zatanna eases the hum of hunting magic at her finger tips and smiles at Phantom until he sleeps.
Then, she gets up, and hunts.
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Some of my ex boyfriend Eddie headcanons:
18+ hoes
Ex boyfriend Eddie who purposely leaves his t shirt behind after your ‘hate fucks’ because he knows how much you love them. As soon as he leaves you’ll slip into it, his smell enveloping you, the familiar scent comforting you until you drift off to sleep.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who still randomly leaves flowers on your doorstep. Something he’s done for years now. Never a real bouquet. Random wildflowers he saw that just ‘reminded him of his wild girl’.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who gets so insanely jealous he can’t see straight when he sees you at a party even speaking to another guy. (More than a few fights have ensued, all of them ending with Eddie destroying you in the back of his van, sweaty and bloody).
Ex boyfriend Eddie who continues to call you every pet name in the book. You always act like it annoys you but he knows how much you love it.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who gets drunk and is either ridiculously horny, sending you the most risqué texts or like a sad puppy begging for your attention.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who still slips up saying he loves you almost every single time he’s near you.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who starts a fight with you because he knows how much it turns you on.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who still takes care of things for you. You wake up to see him outside, changing your oil, covered in grease and sweat.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who fucks you like no one else and knows it. He’s a cocky shit as he’s balls deep and you’re clawing at his back, screaming his name and only his name.
Ex boyfriend Eddie who still defends your name to every person who has something bad to say about his girl. ‘Not your girl, Eds.’ ‘Whatever you say, sweetheart.’ As he kisses your forehead gently, wiping away the tears caused by some asshole.
More ex boyfriend Eddie here
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