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cooliestghouliest · 10 months ago

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LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. one

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: absent dads and mean moms. brief mention of self-destructive tendencies (way more about that later). your brother's a total cockblock. long-winded parental background information. this is really just some stage setting before we get into the nitty gritty.

A/N: this is my favorite fic i've ever written, and now it's coming at you re-edited. it's my verbose word child, sprinkled with a few What The Fuck and Holy Shit moments, dolled up with some silly humor and a dose of hot (and often borderline depraved) smut. a lot's already planned for this, so i hope you enjoy. :-)

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chapter title: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

You weren’t expecting the high pitch of the doorbell that sounded throughout your colonial-style home, and proof of that was now spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Tiny green buds were sprinkled across the white-and-black linoleum tile, some scattered in the blonde mess of curls that belonged to the boy kneeling before you, his mouth busy between your legs.

You’d been attempting to multitask, rolling a joint while twisted awkwardly at the dining table, the quarterback’s head shrouded by your bare thighs, lapping noisily at your wet center.

You huffed out a frustrated sigh at the spillage, but it quickly turned into a moan when goldilocks gave a particularly harsh suck on your clit.

“You needa get that?” he mumbled against your folds, tongue halting its assault only to speak before diving back in, showing no intention of stopping.

You shook your head, one hand moving to tangle in the his hair, the other crumbling up the now empty and useless rolling paper. “Uh-uh… prob’ly just some Mormons,” you answer, beginning to rock your hips up into the warm mouth covering your cunt. “I don’t wanna be saved.”

Chris… or Carl… or Craig… whatever his name was, laughed, the sound vibrating nicely against your heat. Your toes curled at the sensation, thighs wrapping tight around his ears.

He moaned appreciatively at your movement, running his tongue flat against the length of your opening. Maybe you could keep this one around. He liked New Kids on the Block unironically, but holy shit, he knew what to do with his mouth.

The bell rang again.

And then again, and again, and again.

“Oh, little seeeee-eeee-ster!” came a familiar male voice from the other side of the front door. “I know you’re in there, Bean. I can see your shadow in the kitchen!”

You shot up straight, aligning your posture and pulling Chris Carl Craig from between your legs by the grip you had in his hair. He gave an unappealing whine, his fingers moving up to console his scalp.

Standing quickly, you adjusted your pleated skirt so it fell normal again, just above your knees. “Up, up, up,” you impatiently urged the jock still kneeling on the ground, smoothing your clothing and hair to make sure nothing looked too out of place.

“Who is that?” the blonde asked, finally following you into a standing position, large hand still cradling his head. “Still the Mormons?”

“It was never Mormons, Chet,” you said, hoping your shot-in-the-dark guess at his name was right.

It wasn’t.

“It’s Chad,” he said, eyes beginning to narrow. Whether it was in suspicion, confusion, annoyance, or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. You needed to get him out of here without your new visitor catching sight of him, or else you knew you’d never hear the end of it. Chad was still intent on conversing, though. “We’ve literally been in the same school district since, like, kindergarten.”

You bit your lower lip, offering a sheepish smile. “Right,” you said. “I know that.” You didn’t. “Sorry. Head’s a little loopy right now. Your tongue could win awards.”

With Chad’s newfound cocky grin, you knew the flattery angle had worked out. It usually did. Boys were such suckers for some ego stroking.

“Oh, fuckin’ right!” you heard from the front door, the visitor’s voice now cheerful. The door handle began to jangle, and you heard the sound of a key in the lock.

He must have found the spare. Of course he had. He’d only lived here his entire childhood, just like you.

The key had been in the same place it always had been since moving to Fresno -- under the coir doormat that read Definitely Not a Trap Door, courtesy of your father. He’d made it for the family after moving from Chicago to California for his new teaching position at CSU in ‘70. Your mom still hadn't gotten around to throwing it out, even though she’d managed to get rid of almost everything else inside the home that reminded her of her ex-husband.

The door swung open and there stood your older brother in all his punk rock, Fuck-the-Bourgeoisie glory. Short bleached blonde hair, numerous facial piercings, ripped Dead Kennedys t-shirt, tight red tartan pants, muddy black Doc Martens. He was smiling wide, dopey.

Fuckin' Rick.

You started to match his expression, unable to resist your brother’s effortless and childlike charm, but your smile fell flat when Rick’s now disapproving gaze landed on the blonde still standing at your side.

“A Letterman, Bean? Really?” Rick asked you incredulously, having spotted Chad’s football jacket as the jock in question slid it from its place on the kitchen chair to rest over his broad shoulder.

“What?” you asked Rick coyly, quickly eyeing Chad. “You know I don’t discriminate. I’m a true equal opportunist.”

Chad seemed oblivious to the underlying context of the conversation between the pair of siblings. He was watching the two of you interact with seemingly nothing behind his eyes.

God, so cute but so totally stupid.

You closed the distance between the two of you, Chad looking hopeful he was going to be kissed or something, but you instead reached your hand out to pluck a few pieces of weed from his hair. “You can go now,” you told him, finger tapping his nose lightly.

Chad’s face scrunched at your touch but he then shrugged it off, picking his backpack up off the kitchen floor before making his way to the front door. “See ya at school,” he said to you over his shoulder. Stopping briefly next to your brother, Chad assessed him before saying, “Um, bye, whoever you are.”

Rick pulled his lips into a tight line, raising his brows in amusement. He clapped his hand hard on Chad’s back a few times before pushing the footballer out the door. “Later, loverboy.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour and a half later, you and Rick were seated on opposite ends of the tufted tuxedo sofa in the living room. A box of half-eaten extra cheese pizza laid open in between the two of you.

Some low budget horror VHS was playing on the TV across from the couch, the volume low. You thought it was called Ghoulies. You kept catching glances of tiny, ugly wet looking monsters scurrying on the screen out of your peripheral.

You’d been talking to Rick about senior year at Fresno Central High (you said you were doing great, straight A’s across the board, but in reality, you were failing everything but English and Music).

You'd been talking about work at Spins and Needles, the record store you’d been employed at for a little over two years now (you told him you’d gotten promoted to Assistant Manager, which was true, but you left out the fact that you were on Strike Two of Three for blowing off shifts to get high with some goth kids that routinely came in a few hours before closing).

And you'd been talking about your mom (this you were honest about – “She’s still a huge bitch, Rick, that hasn’t changed”).

But then he tried to bring up your dad, asking in an obnoxiously forced nonchalant tone if you’d heard from him lately.

That’s where you stopped him.

You were not going to talk about your dad.

Flipping the pizza box lid shut harshly, you sat up straight and faced him.

“Why are you really here?” you demanded.

Rick sighed, defeated.

He knew you’d catch on soon enough that this supposed innocent visit was actually a planned mission. He’d just been hoping maybe you’d be the one to breach the topic of going back to Indiana with him. Maybe you wanted out of this Californian hellhole. A chance at a fresh start, hundreds of miles away.

But he knew you recently had developed a penchant for self-destruction and self-catastrophizing, which meant getting you to see the bright side and the positives of his request was going to be near impossible.

Still, he had to try.

“Mom called me,” he admitted, which earned him a dramatic eye roll from you. “I know you’re failing your classes. I know your boss has been blowing up the landline wondering why you keep closing up shop so early. And I know mom’s a bitch. I’m trying to save you from her. She said she’s thinking of enrolling you into St. Mary’s.” Rick wasn’t surprised at the bewildered scoff you gave to that, St. Mary’s being Indiana’s notorious Catholic boarding school for wayward girls. He’d finally gotten to the point, the real reason he was there: “Come stay with me in Hawkins, Bean.”

“Wow, Rick, so noble. It only took you, what, ten years to come back for me?”

Rick couldn’t help but flinch, your wounding words accusing. And accurate.

It was true.

Rick, at twenty, had left Fresno in an old RV he’d bought for dirt cheap, with plans to travel the country and get the fuck away from his parents, Ronald and Maureen Lipton.

Or, away from his mother, really.

Ron Lipton was generally fine -- until a certain point in his life. To outsiders, the man seemed to be very happy and very put-together, successfully established in both his home life and his career.

Ron and Maureen had gotten married just a few short months following their high school graduation, after finding out Maureen was pregnant with Rick.

With the draft ever present, Ron enlisted in the army, while Maureen enlisted the help of her mother-in-law to take care of Rick (and eventually you, once you were born, conceived on one of Ron’s short stints back home), so she could work on her doctorate in psychiatry.

After being honorably discharged a handful of years later, Ron had gotten his Master’s degree in education and creative writing.

To the public, Ronald and Maureen Lipton were fantastic at keeping up the facade of Perfect Suburban Family.

In private, however, the Lipton household was like living in a layer of Hell.

Where Ron was imaginative and endlessly inquisitive, instilling a love of storytelling and curiosity in his children, Maureen was passive aggressive and judgemental, harboring jealousy for the relationship her children had with her husband. This eventually festered a spiteful dynamic between her and Ron, and between her and her offspring as well.

When the two of you were younger, Rick in his late teens and you in your last years of elementary school, one of your favorite backyard games was to wonder aloud to each other how and why your parents had ever even gotten together in the first place.

You were both sure that it must have been an arranged marriage of some sorts.

Rick thought maybe your grandparents had made a deal with the devil, and to ensure the safety of the family, Ronald and Maureen were forced to be betrothed for life.

You thought maybe Maureen was an evil sorceress who had cast a spell on your father, trapping him in a loveless marriage that he was an unsuspecting victim in.

The truth was not stranger than fiction.

The reason behind their nuptials was simple, really: Ronald was raised to believe he needed to provide for his family, and after having knocked Maureen up not only once but twice, he was resigned to the fact that this was his path in life.

Devoted father, loving husband.

While he couldn’t stand his wife, her harshness and indignation usurping any positive characteristics she may have once had, Ron did love his children. Dearly.

Rick was his wild child; his rebellious, rambunctious trouble maker.

Ron would sit on the front porch late at night, waiting for Rick to get home and tell him all about his latest escapades. What parties he’d gone to, what girls he’d kissed, whether he preferred the high from acid or mushrooms more. Ron lived vicariously through his son, encouraging the boy to play hard, but to play hard responsibly.

You were Ron’s Little Leia of Alderaan; his opinionated, open-minded warrior, brave enough to stand up to any bully who’d dare to make fun of you or your friends. You were Ron’s daydreamer, his whimsical muse, his daily reminder that there was still innocent softness in this cruel world.

You would have Daddy Daughter Dates twice a week, where you’d do things like go to the roller rink or have picnics in the park, and they always ended with a two scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone shared between the both of you.

But Ron’s love for his life dwindled the second he stepped foot inside his house -- where he was forced to occupy space with his resentful excuse of a wife, a woman who would never miss a beat to berate him for every choice he’d ever made in his life.

With your older brother gone, the squabbles between Ron and Maureen got worse.

Rick had been able to placate his father and put himself in the line of Maureen’s fire, taking her verbal hits so his father didn’t have to. You, being only ten when Rick had left, didn’t have much ground to stand on with your parents arguing, and trying to step in as Rick had would usually only make things escalate.

Ron fantasized about leaving, starting over anew. The immediate and resounding “no” that his subconscious always answered himself with, thinking of the kids, dwindled down over time, until all of his fantasizing led him to making actual plans of departure.

Last year, right before summer break was set to start, Ron finally left.

Having taken PTO from the campus, he’d waited that morning for Maureen to leave for work and for you to be on the bus to school. Alone, he took the time to pack all of his belongings, leaving only a few things behind, all with you in mind -- things to remind you of him in his absence. He’d intended on coming back for you as soon as possible, wanting to settle in somewhere before dragging his daughter into his uprooted life.

But it was over a year now that Ron had been gone, and you could count on one hand the amount of times he’d reached out to you.

You could count them on two fingers, actually.

The first time was the night after he’d left, when he’d tried explaining to you his reasoning, which you weren’t at all interested in hearing. You were beside yourself that he’d left you, just like Rick had, except Rick was your brother and that was normal, but Ron was your daddy and he was supposed to always be there.

Your mother, in anger that Ron would attempt to talk to you and not her, had disconnected the call, and while you waited by the phone all night for him to call back, he never did.

The second and last time he reached out was a few months ago, via letter for your 18th birthday. It was postmarked with an address in Fort Worth, Texas. When you’d tried writing back, you'd found the letter you'd sent in your mailbox a week later, marked Return to Sender.

It was mid-November now, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

At least Rick had kept in touch after he’d left.

He’d sent you care packages every month since arriving to Indiana in '81. They were full of sci-fi and horror books he’d found at the local Goodwill or Salvation Army, newspaper clippings for outlandish Classified segments, scribbled notes on stained notebook paper detailing concerts he’d gone to and new bands he thought you should check out.

Remembering this, you softened quickly after accusing Rick of abandoning, your biting comment causing guilt to swirl in your stomach.

Rick had his reasons to leave, you understood that. He was allowed to live his life. And even though he’d done just that, left and lived his life, he still always managed to keep tabs on you. The two of you hadn’t gone more than a few weeks without letters sent or parcels mailed back and forth since he’d first left home.

Never there, but never gone. Not really.

That was more than you could say for your father.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” you admitted, even though the hurt words you spoke did hold some kernel of truth. “It’s just… I don’t wanna have to start all over somewhere else.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Rick promised, choosing to let the accusation of his abandonment slide. He was sure you'd both get into it more later, considering it was a conversation that was long overdue. “The house is too big for just me anyway, and you know I’m fuckin’ shit at decorating. I’ve basically just been using beer cans for bookends and stuff like that – you could make it look way cozier.”

You laughed, sure your brother wasn’t exaggerating.

Rick was about as anti-capitalist as you could get, and that included being a minimalist when it came to possessions. Give the man a hand-me-down couch, a little TV, some weed, his cassettes, and a subscription to Playboy, and he’d be content for the rest of his life.

You were the opposite.

You loved things.

You had many different collections you’d amassed over the years -- your vast assortment of books had spilled from the two bookshelves in your room to several stacks littered throughout the house, much to your mother's annoyance; your vinyls were shoved into four big storage bins stacked under your octagonal bedroom window, which you draped a blanket over and used as a makeshift window seat nook; your cliques of creepy looking dolls you’d collected from estate sales and antique shops crowded your bed, your vanity, the storage shelf in your closet; the bug assemblages you’d been adding to since your childhood had their own corner of your room, little homes full of ladybugs, ants, and deathwatch beetles.

The idea that you could expand your knack for interior embellishing (hoarding, really) further than the confines of one room was one thing that made you start to consider taking Rick’s offer seriously.

That, and the realization that finally getting the fuck out of Fresno might not be such a bad idea.

Because what did you have there anymore, anyway? Shit grades? A handful of mean exes? A dead-end job?

Was any of that worth staying for?

You thought of your dad trying to reach out to you via telephone, imagined your mother answering and telling him you’d moved away and no longer lived there.

If it were only a few months since Ron had left, you didn’t think you would have gone with Rick back to Hawkins. You would have stayed just for the mere possibility that your dad would show up on the doorstep one day, begging for your forgiveness for leaving you alone with your coldhearted mother.

However, it was over a year now that he’d been gone. One year, four months, and fifteen days... if anyone was counting.

You’d never verbally admit it, but you still were.

There was a page hidden in the back of your diary where you kept track.

Your hopefulness was starting to make you sick.

Maybe a change wouldn’t be so bad.

Going back to Hawkins with Rick sure beat being forced to attend an all girls’ reformatory school, one with a reputation that claimed the headmaster performed shock therapy on students in lieu of giving them detentions.

You were sure that was just a rumor, but still. You didn’t want to take any chances.

“Bean, let me be there for you,” Rick said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his fingers. You noted his nails were painted a lime green. “It’ll be just like when we were kids, except now you’re older and actually cool so I won’t be embarrassed to introduce you to all my friends.” Dipping his head to the side, he wiggled his pierced brows, a grin toying on his lips as he added, “And we can smoke weed in the house.”

Pretending as if that alone was what sealed the deal, you stood swiftly. “Say less. You really should’ve started with that, Richard.” You headed off in the direction of the stairs that led up to your room, glancing over your shoulder at your brother who was staring off after you with a relieved countenance on his face. “Gimme an hour and then we can go?”

Rick answered with two thumbs up before grabbing a slice of pizza, shoving as much as he could of it into his mouth as you disappeared up the spiral staircase.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy x you #mungrove x reader #mungrove #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for lying about my hair routine?

So, I (25F) don't have a lot of things that I am proud of, appearance wise. But the one thing i AM proud of is my hair. I have these, like, really soft and pillowy brown curls. Like, big fluffy 3A-3B ringlets.

My hair has always been curly, but I was bullied and harassed as a kid for it because I am the only person in my family with curly hair. As such, no one knew how to help me take care of it, so I'd have people both in and outside of my family telling me that I looked like a slob, that I looked lazy, that I looked like I'd just rolled out of bed, etc.

My hair WAS frizzy and messy, but whenever I tried to do something about it, I'd have people tell me I was just trying to be special, and that I knew it looked better straight, so I should just get over it and do the thing that I knew would make it look good. I grew up in Mormon country, so the pressure to look "professional and respectable" (read: conventionally attractive, thin, and white) was very heavy. I either straightened my hair or put it in a tight braid for about a decade before finally going to a curly hairdresser, having her cut it all off and starting fresh some 4 years ago.

Now that the damaged hair is fully gone and I know how to take care of it all, my curls are flourishing. I can't go anywhere without someone complimenting them. It's really lovely.

Now to the part where I might be an asshole. A lot of the people I grew up with (family, my mom's friends, people that go to my parent's church) have also noticed my hair, and are always asking me about my routine.

Now that the natural hair movement has sort of taken off, suddenly the women that got on my case about looking "lazy" and "ratty" and "homeless" all want curls, even if (especially if, in a lot of cases) they don't have a naturally curly hair texture.

Like my mom, for example, has had thick, gorgeous straight hair her entire life--like, it could barely hold a curl even if you used an iron and gelled that shit in place. And she was always complimented for it! But now that the women on her instagram page are showing off their curly girl methods, it's the only thing she can think about, and she talks about how jealous she is of my hair all. The. Time.

So, it usually goes like this. Someone I know compliments my hair and asks me about my routine. I try to laugh it off, then they ask for products, and I tell them that I just use normal head and shoulders shampoo from walmart. They ask me what method I use, I say that I just wash it, sleep on it, then brush it out in the morning--the same routine they always told me to use as a kid. And they seethe, because that's what they've BEEN doing, and it clearly isn't getting the same results. And I just go "well, I guess it has more to do with your natural texture :)" and move on.

I told my sister about this, and she told me I was being an asshole--that these ladies have moved on from their weird prejudice, so I should let it go and explain what I do and why it probably wouldn't work for them. I know it's petty. I know the nice thing to do would be to explain how my hair texture works and so on. But I take a lot of satisfaction in watching these women be jealous of something that they used to shame me for, so I'm okay with being petty. I guess I know I'm an asshole, but am I justified in it?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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icannotgetoverbirds · 6 months ago

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buckle up, this one's a doozy

Idk if it's actually a doozy, but this is the story of how I deconverted from a cult and got my egg cracked at approximately the same time, all thanks to... weed.

Let's set the scene, shall we?

It is December 22nd, 2021. The pandemic has been raging for nearly two years at this point. I am, at this point, still a believing mormon. That said, my attendance to church meetings has been incredibly spotty, with the most reliable method to get me to worship being choir practice.

I am laying in my bed in the evening, and of all possible things, I am thinking about weed. Namely, the church's policy about weed, and the absolute failure that is the war on drugs, and my personal belief system (and also about whether or not I should try weed for my anxiety disorder).

What's mormonism's policy on weed, you ask? Well, it's surprisingly liberal for a whole-ass cult, but still has enough nonsense for the events of this story to play out. To put it simply, you can absolutely use weed for medicinal purposes, but recreational purposes is a big no-no.

This, of course, presents a dilemma: where do you draw the line between recreational and medicinal use, especially in the case of, say, using it to medicate an anxiety disorder? I'm sure that the Church-Approved™ conclusion is "That's between you and The Lord, figure it out yourself, good luck!" I don't remember if I came to that conclusion or not, but I know for a fact that my "prove beyond a shadow of a doubt before you make an important decision based off of Feelings Supposedly From God Or The Holy Spirit" ass would not have been satisfied with that answer.

So I think about it in terms of politics, and logic, and science. After all, science is just our frail and minuscule way of comprehending all that Our Father Who Art In Heaven has created, right? So if Our Father Who Art In Heaven can't give me a straight answer, science surely can.

I come to a few conclusions. First of all, there are very few people, if any, who are qualified to draw that line. I am not included in that group of people. Secondly, nobody in their right goddamned mind would so much as try to draw that line unless they have some serious qualifications in the variety of fields that it applies to. Third of all, and this is where shit starts to unravel very fucking quickly: who in the goddamned fuck are a bunch of old white men who've probably never seen a gram of weed in their entire lives to think themselves qualified to draw that line?

The shelf cracks. The prophets are fallible, even in this day and age. Not only are they fallible, but whoever made this decision is a FUCKING DUMBASS. God must be looking down at them and shaking his head disapprovingly, huh?

So I think to myself, yknow what, this is a stupid fucking rule. And my autistic-disregard-for-stupid-fucking-rules-having-ass was not about to tolerate it. So what do I do? Metaphorically speaking, I chuck it out the window. Who cares? I'm gonna do weed for my anxiety, and if anybody tells me that I'm disobeying god, I can tell them that god doesn't fucking give a shit about weed if he's as kind and loving as the prophets say he is.

A moment passes.

Now wait just a goddamned second! If I'm chucking this rule out the window, isn't there something else I should re-examine? If I'm disregarding what the prophets have said for my own pleasure and recreation, isn't there something regarding the lives, livelihoods, and joie de vivre of countless other people, myself included, that I should be looking at?

Suddenly, the years of (pent-up and suppressed) sheer fucking indignation of the way queer people have been othered by the church hits me all at once, full fucking force. I am angry, angrier than I have ever been. Abso-fucking-lutely not. No. If the prophets are wrong about weed, then they're DEFINITELY wrong about queer people.

And in this moment, I make a decision. "Until the mormon leaders get their shit together, I'm out! I'm fucking done! I'm gonna go live it up and get blazed out of my gourd for shits and giggles, and maybe I'll try a tiny sip of beer, and by god I am going to transition-"

"HEY WAIT JUST A GODDAMNED SECOND"

[Plain text ID: Text in a large, bold, italicized red font that reads "HEY WAIT JUST A GODDAMNED SECOND"]

Shelf shattered, omelette made of my egg, life ruined for the better.

The next morning, I come out to my mom and sister. I still believe in god and mormonism and yadda yadda, I just think the leadership needs to get their heads out of their asses.

Not long after, I decide to finally check out exmormon spaces. Yknow, get the full experience.

I am bombarded with "HOLY FUCK IT'S A CULT. IT RUINED MY LIFE. IT RUINED YOUR LIFE. IT TORE MY FAMILY APART. IT'S NOT EVEN REAL. READ THE CES LETTER, CHECK MORMONISM AGAINST THE BITE MODEL. THINK FOR YOUR GODDAMNED SELF FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE."

I check the sources provided. Well, I'll be damned. They weren't kidding, that mormonism sure can cult started by a con man. At this point, I am now beyond the point of no return. There's no going back. I have seen the light. I want out forever, I want my records removed, mom pick me up I'm scared.

My family never looks at me the same way again :>

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alpaca-clouds · 18 days ago

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Wanted: Good Fantasy Books

Hey, tumblr. One question for y'all. I tried to ask this on reddit a couple of time, but it turns out that on r/fantasy the people are quite unable to read and understand English clearly.

I am looking for some new Fantasy books to read. But... I am not willing to put up with the usual stuff. Which is the thing r/fantasy does not get.

I do not like Game of Thrones or anything GRRM has written. I do not think that GRRM is a good writer. I also do not like anything Brandon Sanderson has written, and frankly, I am annoyed that he gets to write his Mormon shit without getting the same kind of backlash for it female Mormon writers got for their stuff.

In fact, out of the big fantasy book series out there, The Witcher is the only book series I ever really enjoyed. Mostly, because it does the thing that pretty much most other big titles refuse to do: It engaged critically with systems of power that exist within the world. To me The Witcher series (the books that is) mainly are a conversation on colonialism, and the patriarchy.

My main issues with the usual fantasy worlds are the following:

A lot of it has basically a medieval or early Rennaissance European culture, without it making any sense, given that usually those worlds did not spring from a world that had at some points Romans or anything like Catholicism. (Mind you: I would be fine with it being set in a somewhat medieval European setting, if the worldbuilding makes sense. But most of the time it doesn't.)

The main characters are often just too young for my liking. I will not care for a main character who is younger than 25. Especially not if they are from a privileged group in that world.

This goes doubly so if the story involves a lot of action. In those cases I want it to make sense that the main character is capable, which usually works best when they are not super young and have trained for a long while.

It is fine though if there are multiple important main characters and one of them is still young.

One exception: If it actually goes a bit more into horror and the main character actually just tries to survive. In those cases I am fine with younger protagonists.

If the world replicates patriarchy, queerphobia and shit, I want the story to actually comment on it.

I most of the time do not enjoy too prominent romances, especially not if those go "will they, won't they". Especially not if those are straight, and one of the partners mainly exists just to be the love interest having little to no agency outside of that relationship.

I want to see creative worldbuilding, not always a copy paste of some tolkienesque stuff.

I am perfectly happy to buy indie books and sp stuff.

#books and reading #books wanted #book recommendations #fantasy #high fantasy #dark fantasy #the witcher #wiedźmin

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wickprompts · 1 year ago

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* ― ANGELS IN AMERICA PROMPTS PRT 1 .

my friend psyche asked me to post these for them💕

❝ i wish i was an octopus, a fucking octopus. eight loving arms and all those suckers. ❞

❝ not the brightest man on the bench, but he has manners. ❞

❝ could you please not take the lord’s name in vain? ❞

❝ i’m not religious but i like god and god likes me. ❞

❝ it would mean something to me. you understand? ❞

❝ thanks, [name]. but i have to give it some thought. ❞

❝ people who are lonely, people who are left alone, sit talking nonsense to the air. ❞

❝ everywhere, things are collapsing, lies surfacing, systems of defense giving away. ❞

❝ cash, check or credit card? ❞

❝ people are like planets, you need a thick skin. ❞

❝ it’s the price of rootlessness. motion sickness. the only cure: to keep moving. ❞

❝ oooh, cemetery fun. don’t wanna miss that. ❞

❝ poor [name]. i’m sorry your [familiar, lover, friend] is dead. ❞

❝ sorry i didn’t introduced you… i always get so closety at this family things. ❞

❝ i don’t blame you hiding. bloodlines. ❞

❝ you don’t notice anything, if i hadn’t been fellating you last night i’d swear you were straight. ❞

❝ dogs have brains. ❞

❝ cats have intuition. ❞

❝ don’t you think i’m handling this well? i’m going to die. ❞

❝ i can’t find a way to spare you. ❞

❝ fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! ❞

❝ that’s what i like to hear. a mature reaction. ❞

❝ bad timing, funeral and all, but i figured as long as we were on the subject of death… ❞

❝ there’s something creepy about this place, remember rosemary’s baby? this apartment looks like that one. ❞

❝ i am afraid of the crimes i may commit. ❞

❝ you want to confess, better you find a priest. ❞

❝ catholics believe in forgiveness. jews believe in guilt. ❞

❝ change for the good. i need to be a part of that, i need something big to lift me up. ❞

❝ if i do have emotional problems is from living with you. ❞

❝ life sucks shit. life… just sucks shit. ❞

❝ well, oh boy. a gay republican. ❞

❝ i mean you sound like a… like a republican. ❞

❝ one wants… but one so seldom gets what one wants, does one? ❞

❝ you know you’ve hit rock-bottom when even drag is a drag. ❞

❝ in my church, we don’t believe in homosexuals. ❞

❝ in my church, we don’t believe in mormons. ❞

❝ nothing unknown is knowable. don’t you think it’s depressing? ❞

❝ i usually say “fuck the truth”, but mostly, the truth fucks you. ❞

❝ tell me without making me ask. please. ❞

❝ are you a homo? ❞

❝ i like this, this is very zen; it’s… reassuringly incomprehensible and useless. ❞

❝ what if i walked out on this? would you hate me forever? ❞

❝ there’s nothing left of me to kill. ❞

❝ i am not a homosexual. i am a heterosexual man, [name], who fucks around with other guys ❞

#angels in america rp #sentence starters #sentence starter meme #sentence starter prompt #dialogue prompt

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cxyotl · 4 months ago

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what are some freak zombie takes you've seen. I'm curious

the zionism, mostly. modern zombie media like tlou and wwz are straight up propaganda without trying to hide it. not even joking the reason salt lake city is such a key location in tlou is because of zionist propaganda (PLEEWASSE ask me how mormonism is tied to zionism i need to talk abt it so bad but its probably a post for another day).

i dont like how many people have fallen for the shit that these popular zombie medias push (like the whole thing about killing other survivors bc “theyre barely human anyway” or the “the real monster was humans” bullshit).

a lot of so-called zombie fans are also republicans or christian extremist who jerk their penits over the mere thought of being allowed to kill people without repercussion because these medias romanticize that idea soooo hard.

#when starting to write prions i genuinely wanted to strangle someone bc utah was important to the dsmp lore n all that but like.#i didnt want it to look like mormon doctrine style zionism that american media loves.#so i ended up just killing everybody in prions!utah instead.

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pinkorchidsinspring · 1 year ago

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as someone else who grew up mormon, the prairie diamond ring bracelet is the biggest reach.

as some else who grew up mormon and is bisexual and had her sexuality speculated before she ever had the chance to came out, it is INCREDIBLY harmful of yall to be dedicating entire blogs to proving someone’s sexuality. how you all don’t see that is insane to me, if she IS bisexual it is incredibly gross to be trying to force her out of the closet.

taking a queer meaning from someone’s art (aka, YOUR interpretation) does not mean they are gay. trying to force that on someone you don’t know is not cool.

Hey anon, I am fully aware that that is a big reach, the person who added it knew that it could be a huge reach and openly said that if you read the post. So while I respect your opinion about my blog, and this communities blogs, I cannot respect you calling us gross for talking about our queer interpretation of her art.

We are NOT trying to force her out of the closet. You do not see us commenting on Taylor’s best friends, and “boyfriends” accounts that they need to “get married already” or commenting on Taylor’s posts “Break up with him already 😩”. That is SWIFTIES. They get all in her business and harass Taylor and her friends, all because they want more information about her personal relationship that they don’t deserve.

We as a community just want Taylor to be happy, and that means we would be perfectly fine with her being straight.

You’re right, by the way, our opinions don’t make her gay.

For an artists who loves Easter eggs, we would believe her if she didn’t constantly queer code everything. If her top artist on Spotify wasn’t girl in red. If her music didn’t constantly reference a “best friend” that she allegedly ended her friendship with in 2017 In a romantic light. If she didn’t tag her account in the middle of a rainbow on her posts. If she didn’t have a song about the street she lived on with that said best friend. IF SHE DIDN’T WRITE THE LYRIC “I DON’T WANT YOU LIKE A BESTFRIEND” OR “SHADE NEVER MADE ANYBODY LESS GAY”.

So no anon, it’s not cool to force someone out of the closet. We would never pressure Taylor to come out. Is there some accounts that probably do? Of course, but we are not those accounts. We care about her happiness, and her happiness both in love, and in general, cannot be found in Evermore, or Folklore. Nor can it be found on Midnights with songs like Anti-Hero, Lavender Haze (that 1950’s shit they want from me), You’re on your own kid, and even sweet nothing.

You’re telling me anon, that Sweet Nothing doesn’t sound like one person wanted only sweet nothing. They didn’t want ANYTHING from her at all, in exchange for their love? That instead of a contractual arrangement, she fell in love?

You’re telling me that any of her boyfriends’ names are something she can slur til’ someone puts her in a car? I don’t know about you but kar-lie sounds more like car when slurred then Joe…

So I’m sorry anon, but in this case you weren’t in the right of accusing me of forcing her into anything. She does everything on her own terms, and we can’t, and won’t change that. We want her happiness, and it clearly isn’t being evidenced in her art thus far.

Maybe you should look at your own heteronormativity and how that affects Taylor’s sexuality. Maybe you’re a part of the reason she’s in the closet in the first place… I beg of you anon, go check out some of the amazing Kaylor Blogs I follow and look for yourself how much our interpretation of her songs is the one she means. As a bisexual yourself I know you can see beyond the heteronormative window, so please, do try.

#I’m so sorry anon #taylor swift #kaylor

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wastedlands · 9 months ago

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@likemosaic : [ MEDIC ] sender arrives on receiver’s doorstep , badly bleeding

in an uncharacteristic move, ellison is within the old mormon fort's walls after dark. it may have something to do with it being "their turn" for the night shift, only if the rumours are to be believed. the other followers would be partially relieved they don't have to worry about people stumbling onto their doorstep from the strip after ellison demonstrated her favourite party trick. ellison would simply like if nobody stumbled onto the doorstep, mainly because they were far too engrossed in the little project they had then having to bandage up some idiot caravaneer. julie had given them a piece of wood soft enough to carve, and so she had spent the last four hours straight trying to make some kind of figure. so far they had a oval blob but progress is progress.

the moon had just crested past its peak when they were interrupted by very insistent banging on the fort's main door. ellison tucked the penknife into the pocket of their shorts and stood up. their buzzed head was out on display and they were dressed in only the shorts and a cropped tank top, a lazy outfit even for their standards. with both hands, she yanks the door open and is greeted by an unpleasant sight. not the amount of blood (even though there was a good amount - they had seen more), but The Courier.

despite doing their best to avoid hearing of the legion these days, even she couldn't escape the news of what befell fortification hill. just staring at the woman before them, a little hint of bile crept into their throat. something about the greater good still didn't sit quite right with them. ❛ look what the deathclaw dragged in, huh. ❜ they comment, giving kaj a once over look. they can't determine how much damage there is, but it sure as shit isn't pretty. shoving the door a couple inches further so the gap is wider, they jerk their head towards the back of the fort. ❛ straight line right to the end, tent on your right should be empty. go or i'll start considering this more. ❜

#likemosaic / kaj.#like runaway horses in a fever til the end — 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘.#this is obviously post legion arc for kaj but 👀👀👀#they are conflicteddddddd

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diarythebookwyrm · 1 year ago

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Insane Shit I was Taught as a Mormon (in no particular order)

That all indigenous people in North America were actually Jews who sailed from somewhere in the Middle East all the way to somewhere in either South, Central, or North America in 600 BC.

That somehow these Jews started out white (which...is like Jesus being white, but sure Jan) and then as they became more "sinful" they became darker skinned.

Oh, and by 300 AD all the Nephites (the "white and delightsome" and "holy" people) were killed in a battle with the Lamanites (the sinful and darkskinned people) with only one Nephite left named Moroni who buried an abridged history carved on gold plates, a special translation stone called the Urim and Thumim in a hill in New York State for Joseph Smith, Jr. to find in 1823

That Joseph Smith, Jr. translated the Book of Mormon by "wearing" the Urim and Thumim, which were supposedly a breastplate with lenses set into the shoulders like some weird goggles that you could adjust. (This was official Church History until the last like...twenty years or so, when they finally started admitting how he really "translated" the gold plates. I'll go into that later)

More under the cut, because there's a Lot of Weird Shit

That Joseph Smith, Jr. and Oliver Cowdery received the Aaronic (or "lesser") priesthood by a river in Philadelphia from the spirit of John the Baptist, and then the Melchizedek (or "higher") priesthood by that same river from Peter, James and John (yes, Jesus' companions/disciples).

That Quetzalcoatl was actually how the Aztecs explained Jesus Christ coming to the New World during the three days before he appeared to his apostles in Jerusalem. I wish I was making this one up.

That there were three Nephites who were basically the New World Peter, James and John who told Jesus they wanted to "tarry" on earth until the second coming. This is such a Thing (TM) among Mormons that ppl claim to this day to have had interactions with the Three Nephites. like it's wild how much they buy into this, along with the idea that John the Beloved is still walking around. There's a whole ass Christmas book (with included musical accompaniment CD--yes, really--because everyone has A Song) about a woman discovering the True Meaning of Christmas (TM) by being a caretaker nurse to a guy who claims to be John the Beloved that's written by a popular Mormon musician.

That Joseph Smith, Jr. only ever had three "extra" wives, because he didn't really want to practice polygamy, but God made him do it.

That Joseph Smith, Jr. was killed for being the True Voice of God, and not because he was a lying, narcissistic sack of shit. (more on that later)

That God is an alien (they don't say that but come on) who lives on a Star/Planet (they use the term star, but there's no way anything lives on a star) called Kolob. There's a whole ass hymn that they just straight up only sing in church on rare occasions that's all about how God lives on Kolob. The reason they don't sing it? because they KNOW how insane it sounds, and they don't want people to know just how fucking weird they are.

That if you are a Truly Good Mormon in life and get all your appropriate ordinances done (like being married in the Temple. you legit cannot enter Super Heaven without that), then you go to Super Heaven The Celestial Kingdom. And if you are the Specialist Boi (it's almost certainly gonna be all men lbr) then you go to the Highest Level of Super Heaven the Celestial Kingdom and get your own planet to be God for.

That there are three tiers of Heaven. Terrestrial (for those who did okay for being not Mormon Godless Heathens), Telestial (for those who Did Accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, but weren't quite Special Enough for Super Heaven), and Celestial aka Super Heaven.

That Adam (as in Adam and Eve) was actually the Archangel Michael given a human body because he was a Super Special Boi who helped God and Jesus create the world.

Lies I Learned the Truth of Once I Put in Minimal Effort:

That the Urim and Thumim weren't real. The way Joseph Smith actually "translated" the Book of Mormon was by putting a "seer stone" in a hat, putting his face in the hat to seal out all the light, and "seeing" the words printed on the stone. This was also a scam he used several years before he started "translating" to find hidden treasure. He was arrested for fraud for doing this in Philadelphia, which was why his future father-in-law didn't want Emma Hale (later Emma Smith) to marry Joseph in the first place.

The seer stone looked like this:

That Joseph Smith didn't just have three "bonus wives" who were poor women with no man to financially support them, but actually closer to 35. At least eleven of these wives were teenagers when he coerced them into marrying him. At least two were polyandrous, where Joseph coerced both the woman and her legal husband into letting him marry the woman in question. The youngest and most scandalous of these girls was Helen Mar Kimball, who was fourteen. Several of these women then went on to marry Brigham Young, who had a total of fifty-six wives.

Joseph claimed that he was "encouraged" to practice polygamy by an angel with a "drawn sword" and used this to coerce the young women and girls into accepting his proposal.

That Joseph wasn't killed for being The One True Prophet, but for the rumors of him being a polygamist who married children. He was arrested for destroying a federally owned printing press where a former Mormon was printing pamphlets about the girls Joseph Smith was forcing to marry him. The mob that came to Carthage Jail were there because they heard the rumors and wanted to get rid of a pervert, basically.

The Mormon Church lies about a lot of their history. And even when they do finally admit the truth about it, they hide it so you have to really go hunting for the proof in their "approved" sites.

#mormons #as an ex mormon this is all as accurate as I can make it #this is what I personally learned but I may have missed stuff

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amazon160 · 1 year ago

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THOUGHTS ON THE NEW FNAF TRAILER

spoiler warning in case ur dumb or something, like. bruh there’s no way you haven’t at least HEARD-

I’m gonna do some posts later this week with my favorite trailer screenshots, my movie predictions, and a more serious review on what we’ve been shown so far.

Going shot by shot here from the second trailer--

SO. To start us off, the vandals. I’m very sure that Abby’s babysitter Max WAS with the vandals and that is VERY confusing…cus I’m pretty sure she’d have to interact with Abby at some point in the movie.

And that takes us to Chica and Carl. My first reaction was just, me laughing. That was legitimately funny in my book🧍‍♀️BUT I’m glad they’re giving Carl more recognition AND at least there will be SOME kills on screen even if it’s got less blood…also Chica looked great 👍

Next was I believe some shots we’ve seen before. I NEED MORE WILLIAM AFTON PLEASE

THE ANIMATRONICS’ INTRODUCTIONS WERE SO COOL HOLY CRAAAAAPPP!!!! I’m happy we got some more of Foxy XD

never mind I don’t wanna review every shot of this trailer 💀😂

THE BIG THREE ARE-

One, I wonder how they’re gonna do Foxy moving around cus I know he’s got some puppeteers but moving him around has gotta look weird compared to the others, right? And he’s got some cgi going for him. Blumhouse is putting a much larger budget than normal behind FNaF so I hope a good portion is going to the cgi 😭

And then there’s my expectations for this movie. Did they come up a little bit after this trailer? Yes. Did the trailer confirm my want for this movie? Also yes. I wanted this to be a campy horror movie and we are gonna get just that. Sorry to the fans that thought this would be straight down rated r horror, it’s pg-13 now 😝 YAY I CAN WATCH IIIITTTT (I’m almost 18 but I’m Mormon so I can’t watch movies Rated R lollll) I want it to be the go to spooky movie for Halloween. Not hardcore horror. Not a “horror for kids”. A FUN. HORROR MOVIE. It better be smack DAB in the middle.

And last thing, I am so damn hyped for this movie to come out. I’ve only been waiting since 2020 but come ooonnnn that’s not as long as the og fans but it’s still long to be waiting for a MOVIE. This feels surreal. Holy crap in a couple months I’ll be able to put this movie. ON MY TV. ON PEACOCK. AFTER I WATCH IT IN THEATERS FIRST. SHIT.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #fnaf movie #blumhouse #spring bonnie #springtrap #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #cupcake fnaf #fnaf trailer #aaaaaaaaaa

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violaceum-vitellina-viridis · 8 months ago

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Top 9 No-Skip Albums, as tagged by @concertconfetti. this was,,, so fucking hard oh my god, I have so fucking many no-skip albums, narrowing it down to a top 9 was,,, hhhhhh. I made several decisions in the direction of "accurate representation of my music taste" and “formative to me as a person” because if I tried to pick favorites I was literally never going to narrow this bitch down at all.

tagging @storm-and-starlight and uhhhhhh anyone else who wants to do this you can say I tagged you :D

personal lore explanations under the cut!

these are not in any particular order, to be clear, because as stated narrowing this down was a bitch and a half so I'm definitely not trying to rank shit

▶ Folie à Deux by Fall Out Boy

to be entirely honest, the entirety of Fall Out Boy's discography is no-skips the whole way down, but Folie was the very first full album of theirs I heard so obviously it has pride of place. this album is so fucking good, okay, and I'm so glad that people are coming around to how much of a banger it is but like Vinn said in theirs, I AM going to be on the "I loved this album before it was cool" train for eternity.

favorite song: Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes

▶ Endgame by Rise Against

almost all of Rise Against's discography is also no-skips for me, but this one came out when I was in middle / high school and obsessed with dystopian fiction so it made An Impression. it's also the album that has Make It Stop on it, a song written about the rash of queer suicides that made national and international news in September 2010; as a queer kid and Rise Against fan who was heavily affected by those suicides and everything surrounding the media about them, it was incredibly formative for me.

favorite song: Make It Stop (September's Children)

▶ DIVISIONS by Starset

Starset is another band whose entire discography is no-skips the whole way down. they are in fact my absolute favorite band -- I have shaved their logo into my hair before, I have four tattoos on my fingers that correspond to 4 of their songs, and I've done VIP for every one of their Utah shows since 2018. this album is the winner out of all of theirs because it contains several of my most favorite songs by them and also every song on this album is an absolute banger live.

favorite song: Other Worlds Than These

▶ Wretched and Divine: The Story of the Wild Ones by Black Veil Brides

look, I was an emo/scene kid. what do you want from me. this album of theirs wins over We Stitch These Wounds entirely because this one is an Album™, meant to be listened to in order as it tells a story. it was also formative to me as a person because it came out when I was in high school. recently I relistened to this album through again and experienced the full spectrum of human emotions.

favorite song: tie between Resurrect the Sun and Overture, possibly just those two as a pair

▶ Ceremonials by Florence + the Machine

the first time I listened to this album all the way through was shortly after a good friend died in high school, and the opening song Only If For A Night straight up gutted me alive (positive). the rest of the album proceeded to fundamentally rewire me as a person.

favorite song: Heartlines

▶ Excommunication by Tyler Glenn

as an ex-mormon I am contractually obligated to love this album, and tbh even if I wasn’t, I would still love it. it’s an incredibly fantastic look at the up-down-sidways of a faith crisis – something that’s both a crisis, a terrible thing to experience, and also a kind of rebirth into freedom. I have,,, a lot of feelings about this album and Tyler Glenn okay.

favorite song: Black Light or Devil

▶ Pressure Machine by The Killers

The Killers said, “hey, Utah fans, do you want to know what it feels like to be flayed alive?” and then did not wait for an answer. oh my god, this album is,,, so much. it’s an ode to small town mormon Utah and it’s brutal in the best goddamn way. I genuinely tear up every time I listen through it, and some days I cannot listen to it at all for fear of dissolving into a puddle of sobs. I almost never hear one song without just going and listening to the whole album through, too.

favorite song: Sleepwalker

▶ Pins and Needles by The Birthday Massacre

I don’t even know what to say about this album, I just adore it so much. the poetry and word play and cool music, it’s just. so goddamn good. honorable mention to Walking With Strangers by them as well, but this one won entirely because it’s the one I listen to through/on repeat the most.

favorite song: Two Hearts

▶ Dark Is the Way, Light Is a Place by Anberlin

once again with a band whose entirety discography is straight bangers the whole way down, but again: this was formative to who I am as a person. it was one of the first albums I ever owned (alongside Cities by them as well), and I have seriously considered getting the album title tattooed. I probably will at some point if I can figure out a design and place for it.

favorite song: Pray Tell

additional honorable mentions because FUCK it was so motherfucking hard to narrow this down:

▶ The Horror and The Wild and Ruin by The Amazing Devil

▶ Let The Ocean Take Me by The Amity Affliction

▶ A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out by Panic! At the Disco

▶ Atlas I and Atlas II by Sleeping At Last

▶ Post Traumatic by Mike Shinoda

▶ For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert

▶ BADLANDS by Halsey

#about me #music #tag game #fob #starset #see how the honorable mentions is the same length as the list?#IT COULD BE SIGNIFICANTLY LONGER.#i am not kidding i have so many albums i don't skip on #i love music so much okay

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