#yeah you earned the tag stay mad about it frankly

[myfandomrealitea]

Saying someone has "zero brain cells present" because you didn't understand their addition to a post doesn't seem like a very good way to "facilitate collected, open-minded discussions between opposing or conflicting views". The addition was clearly about how some fandom spaces are so separated from reality that they end up treating fandom drama like shipping as some huge priority to sink effort into and how arguing over a ship will somehow make the world a better place. It won't and some fan areas would do well to keep it all in perspective and have a reality check over what's an actual problem in life. What a mean spirited blog you run if this is how you treat anyone trying to interact with the topics you bring up.

Its the tag I use so people can block my more nonsensical or argumentative reblogs if that's not something they want to see. Its also pretty accurate, frankly. If you get that tag, you've earned it.

I understood it perfectly. I also understood it was a completely irrelevant and pointless addition to the post because it directly contradicts the very nature of the post.

If you look back through the reblogs you'll see well over a hundred other people have done the exact same thing and been given the exact same response. If you say something stupid on my posts, beyond a certain point I will simply react as I see fit.

I do not care that I've hurt your feelings or theirs. Life is unfortunate that way sometimes. Its not mean spirited. Its called reaching the threshold of my patience.

Responding to someone saying people need respite by essentially regurgitating that they're allowed respite as long as they never ever forget that people are being murdered and as long as people are forced to moderate how much respite they need is... Really not the kind of moral victory the reblogger thought it was.

People are entitled to respite. Period. As much of it as they need. Respite doesn't magically erase the knowledge that the world is burning. We don't need people like that reblogger permitting us respite as long as we only take just enough of it to reach that shitty perfect balance they have in mind.

Once activism becomes forced it is no longer activism and it is no longer as effective. Also, waving around one of those very same world issues as some kind of brownie point to your argument is disgusting.

[1110-01111011-a-blog]

TAGGED BY: @blue-pincushion​ thank you!! TAGGING: hhhh I apologize I’ve been very out of it so I’m not sure who’s been tagged/done this, but if you haven’t feel free to steal

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? tall for a mobian, short for a human. he’s 4′11 which means he towers over most smaller animals, but to a human he’s... below average, for sure. not that reduces his intimidation factor by much I’d think

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? yeah he’s alright. he doesn’t judge his own appearance much because his programming focuses a lot on working with what he’s got? like if his arm broke off he’d still keep trucking, so imagining himself but taller or shorter is not something he’d really think to do because he’s just working on operating the body he has. if he wanted to be taller it’d be so that he could be more intimidating, but also he’s pretty logical and understands he’d never fit through a single door then

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? none hair

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? absolutely not. it’s one thing for him to seek out repairs to keep his systems operating within normal parameters, but things like scraped up paint and laser burns? he doesn’t care. if anything he’s pretty sure that stuff makes him more intimidating so he’s in no rush to get it fixed

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? he doesn’t care what others think. however. he does want to be intimidating at all times, so he cares in that sense. he really doesn’t have the capacity to care about aesthetics and such, so like, if he looks clunky he doesn’t mind? but if people aren’t afraid of his big ol’ claws and frankly disgusting amount of guns, then he’s not gonna be so happy

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?

either. indoors is safer from weather but also very confining if it’s built for mobian sizes. on the bright side, indoors can easily become outdoors with enough gunfire, so maybe indoors is nice because it gives him options

▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ? sunshine. he’s watertight but if he’s taken any damage he’ll not want water getting inside his electronics. the sun can get hot but he’s equipped with some pretty heavy-duty fans, I mean, he was literally running around in a volcano in 06 for one example, ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?   beaches aren’t great because sand can get up in his systems, so even though forests are full of obstacles that give his sensors trouble, he’d probably still prefer them to cleaning sand out of his weapons ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?   precious metals are weak and generally unhelpful. there’s a few rare metals that are very important for electronics though so if those were included he’d probably pick metals ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ? neither really appeal to him, but flowers are a physical thing that more people seem to like over perfume, so he’d just default to flowers ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?   personality because he has no personal sense of aesthetics ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?   alone. he has like two or three friends and that’s not a crowd despite that colloquialism to the contrary so he’d never prefer a crowd. also he’ll just inadvertently beat someone up by moving around in a space that’s too tightly packed and that’s not ideal for anyone ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?   anarchy. do what you want when you want and the only limit is your personal ability. he’d be living ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ? painful truth because I don’t know if he could actually tell a convincing white lie

▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?   science because he can understand it. magic is ok but he isn’t equipped to immediately comprehend the rules of it, so he’d prefer to deal with scientific matters. of course magic isn’t really a problem either if it’s not messing with his ability to shoot things

▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?   conflict babey he lives to fight ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?  

either, his sensors work just about equally well at either time. in the dark he can’t really see color but also he doesn’t have to worry about glare off of shiny surfaces so... it’s a toss-up ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ?

neither really appeal to him in an aesthetic sense tbh nor do they provide any important function to him

▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD  ?

cold because his internal fans have to run less to cool his electronics. that being said being below freezing isn’t good either as it makes his metal components very brittle

▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?

points at team dark

▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?  

playing a game probably because 1) he can just download book contents and 2) his programming pushes him to stay active so a game wouldn’t be bad. it’s just. he might have a little trouble holding back. like say if you wanna play basketball you may need a new hoop afterwards

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? -crushing things that don’t need crushing -making zero effort to understand people’s problems if they’re not his team or otherwise close to him for some reason -rushing into fights without thinking -general hubris-related content

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? nope. if he did he’d probably throw himself into whatever other tasks he has though because he avoids thinking about things by shoving all his processes into whatever other routines he’s got. I don’t think he could feel truly sad but he would definitely be really mad and also kind of empty because he doesn’t know what to do now

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ?  

a lot of stuff with team dark tbh... like he saves anything where he can tell that shadow and rouge are having a good time even if he doesn’t quite understand why they’re enjoying the thing. he does really enjoy crushing robots but if he wants to re-live that he can just go crush some more

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? yeah lmao

but he’s not gonna just kill anyone ofc, his programming does account for allies and he knows he’ll lose the respect of his team if he hurts civilians, so he does go out of his way to avoid injuring people who aren’t his target. if you are his target tho start running

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ?

like physically or,

im joking but I don’t think he could emotionally break down. the closest he could get is like... trying to process too many emotions at once. because, I mean, you know how computers get really slow when they’re trying to handle a bunch of different large things at the same time? it’s like that. but it’s also really difficult for him to reach that point because part of his versatility as a robot weapon is adapting to situations, and of course reallocating processes as is needed for him to run optimally

physically if he breaks down he will just keep going because, again, he’s made to be adaptable and he’ll fight til he can’t anymore

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ?  yes but you better be his team or otherwise earn his respect because he’s only going to trust you with his life if he actually believes you can back him up

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ?

he isn’t

I guess for platonic love though he’ll keep better files on you. that sounds kind of creepy like that but it’s like... remembering people’s likes and mannerisms and stuff, so he can figure out how to act around said person better. if he’s avoiding saying something so as to not bother you then he definitely cares

[pixelsandpins]

I just spent this afternoon and early morning writing the most self-indulgent 2495 words I’ve ever written because I was stressed as hell. 

It’s also on Ao3, but heck to tumblr and their links not showing in tags apparently. Here it is, under the cut. 

A Year Later: Hugo

(A @dreamdaddygame ficlet)

Dadsona/Hugo (Obvs)

Teen, Fluff (mild cursing and slight innuendo)"And this one's called a camel clutch."

The entirety of Hugo's weight is on my lumbar, and his hands are threaded under my chin, pulling my head back.

It's awful.

When we were still on leg locks, it was sexy. Now it's just a literal pain in my ass...and neck...and back. But it makes him happy, and I'm only a little sorer than usual the next day.

"How's that feel? Do you like that stretch, honey?"

Oh my god, he's getting a sick kick out of this, isn't he?

"Ew. Really?"

When I look up, Ernest is standing in the doorway of the office looking down at us with a very particular shade of contempt. Hugo drops my chin and immediately moves off of me.

"It's not what it looks like. We were just wrest-"

"Wrestling. I know. Gross."

Ernest starts walking off.

"Wait!" Hugo calls out, and Ernest leans back lazily to appear in the doorframe again. "How was your weekend with Mike?"

"Fine. We went to the water park, and he bought me some games."

"That's great. So you had fun?"

"Yeah sure." Ernest shrugs and stomps off down the hall. We can hear the door to his room slam.

Hugo hops onto his feet, then pulls me up, being sure to give me a quick peck on the lips along the way. I could definitely stand for something a little heavier, but we both know we need to get dinner started.

The thing I had underestimated most when Amanda left for college was my willingness to actually cook a meal for one. I had been living on nachos and salami sandwiches for a solid six weeks until Hugo had soundly chastised me into eating dinner with him and Ernest as much as I wanted. This certainly made it easier when Amanda told me she'd gotten an internship that would be keeping her there for the summer.

I like to think that in the year Hugo and I've been together, Ernest has come to at least tolerate my presence, but it's so hard to tell with that kid.

When I help with dinner, my duties generally consist of leaning back against the sink and looking pretty. Maybe occasionally passing Hugo a spice or two. This time's no different, but there seems to be an extra bit of tension in Hugo's shoulders as he lifts a pot out of the cabinet and fills it with water.

"Something's bugging you. What is it?"

"Just...the usual," Hugo sighs. "I get...frustrated. I don't mind Mike taking him out to do fun things, but I just wish he'd leave something for me. It undermines my authority when he can just go to his other dad's and get the things that he has to earn from me." Hugo places the pot down hard on the stove and sets it to boiling. "And you know I've talked to him about it."

I did know this. Intimately. I had heard half of multiple heated conversations about it.

"I wish there was something I could do to help."

Hugo moves away from the stove and comes to stand in front of me at the sink. His fingertips find the counter top on either side of my hips, his chest pressing against mine. He leans in and gives me a quick peck that turns into the something more that I was pretty keen on before. He pulls away and rests his forehead on my shoulder.

"It's enough that I have someone to bitch about it to." He kisses me under the bottom edge of my jaw. Then my neck. Then the edge my collarbone under my shirt.

"EWWWWWW. IN THE KITCHEN? REALLY? I'd rather you go back to wrestling." Ernest is standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Hugo makes a clear point of not backing away from me this time.

"Spaghetti will be ready in about twenty minutes, so don't get too into one of your games or anything."

Ernest rolls his eyes and goes back to his room, again.

 When I get out of the shower later, Hugo is sitting in the middle of the bed staring down in irritation at his phone. He's only put his boxers back on which is just excellent, really, but anger doesn't look good on him.

"Boop." I press a finger to the space between his crinkled brows. "What's goin' on, teach? Someone about to get detention?" Hugo tosses the phone onto the bed and rubs his eyes under his glasses.

"One of the games that Ernest brought home. It was one I specifically told Mike not to get him, so I texted him, and he says 'oh, I'm sorry, it was a gift that my boyfriend got him.' And I just….we had an agreement. We had an agreement that if either of us brought new people around, we'd get to meet them first before Ernest. And he's been good about it before, you know? I know he's dated people. But it's like...as Ernest gets older, Mike thinks he can just let up on the rules, and now is the WORST time for that. We need to be able to show solidarity if Ernest is going to get his act together."

"Well, I mean….to be fair, I've never met Mike after all this time." I sit down on the bed next to him, careful to arrange my towel to not get the sheets wet. Hugo leans on my shoulder.

"That's different. You already knew Ernest because we were friends and neighbors. And I told Mike when we started dating for real. I even invited him to come meet you, and he could never find the time. Because he's a dick." Hugo lets out a huge exhale that rattles his whole body.

"From what I've heard, Mike's always been kind of a dick, right? Is this some advanced tier dickage we're dealing with?"

Hugo chuckles a little.

"No. I think...I think this time, it's possible, that I might be the dick."

"Whatchu mean?"

He sighs one of those impossible sighs again.

"Nothing. You staying over?"

"Why do you always ask that? Because you know I am."

"I know. I just like hearing you say it."

He bites my ear a little then runs his tongue along the inside of the outer ridge.

"Hugo. I don't have another round in me, and if you keep doing that…"

And he keeps doing that. And I'm already apologizing to my future self for how sore I'm going to be in the morning.

 I'm waist deep in a marathon of Doomsday Wedding Planner when there's a knock on the door. Hugo's got meetings after school, so I know it's not him. It's rare he comes here, anyway; I'm the one who goes to his place. When I go to answer, then, I'm not sure who to expect. And yet, still, I didn't expect Ernest to be standing there, bored looking with his school bag hanging off his elbows.

"Uh...hey," he drawls. Then he just stands there. Waiting for…something...I guess.

"Did you want to come in?"

Ernest shrugs and pushes past me into the living room, flopping down into the recliner. He still doesn't say anything until I sit down on the couch catty corner to him.

"I heard you and Hugo talking last night," he says with pretty much no pre-anticipation.

Oh, he heard us talking. Oh god, then he probably heard everything. OH GOD, THEN HE'S PROBABLY HEARD EVERYTHING THIS WHOLE TIME.

A year's worth of mortification sets in as one lump sum.

"Is he mad at Mike about his new boyfriend?" Ernest asks, staring at the now muted TV as it flashes through a montage of the chicest wedding chapels/bomb shelters on the east coast.

"No, kid. It's just...grown up stuff. Why are you asking me, though? Should really be talking to your dad about it."

"Because he'll say what you just did. That it's grown up stuff. Does he think I can't handle it? It's really fucking annoying, honestly." He rests his head on his hand.

Well, shit. I have to do some unexpected dadding, and I'm not even wearing my dad pants. Frankly, Ernest should be glad I'm wearing pants at all considering my usual lounge attire. Amanda was usually pretty easy with this sort of thing. I almost shared too much with her, though, I guess.

"Okay. Well, I'm not one of your dads, so will a man to man talk work?"

He looks as me for the first time, dropping his arm onto the armrest and raising his eyebrows. I guess that means I should keep going.

"Being a parent is...hard…"

Wow. Elegant.

"Luckily, you've got a partner. You're a team. You can work together. You argue, yeah, and disagree on how things should be done, but, generally, you've got each other's backs. When you're a single parent, though, it's even harder. You're doing a job meant to be a team as one person. It's...well...it's fuckin' rough, dude. Seriously."

I can't believe I'm swearing in front of my boyfriend's son. Whatever. It's not the worst he's ever heard from me, apparently. OH GOD I'M REMEMBERING, AGAIN.

"And the trick is that we're not supposed to let you guys know any of this is happening. We're supposed to sort of just keep everything under control without you ever knowing that we're all really just playing it by ear. Anyway, your dads pretty much have the worst of both worlds in a lot of ways. They've got all the bickering over how to raise you, but they're both trying to do it alone." When I started I had no idea where this was going, but hell if this isn't some damn fine fathering I'm doing. "So, I guess what I'm trying to get at is that there's some stuff that parents and grown ups have to deal with, but we don't want to worry our kids with it. And we don't tell you not because we don't think you can't handle it. We just don'twant you to have to handle it. It's not your job. It's ours. Am I-uh-making sense?" He's in his default bored face, so I can't tell if he's actually listening.

"So Hugo's not mad at Mike?" Earnest says flatly. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Hugo's got some…concerns related to Mike, but no, he's not, necessarily, mad. And he's certainly not mad about Mike's new boyfriend. So just...let dad take care of this one, okay? You don't need to worry about it. That's what we're here for."

Ernest stares off and away, thinking…maybe? It seems like a slightly different shade of apathetic, at least.

"But, you know, you can always talk to Hugo. He'll listen. Or...me...you know...maybe...if it's weird talking to him…" I add hastily, just a little worried about the door I'm leaving open.

"Okay." He's says it short and sweet, gets up out of the chair, and robots his way to the door, avoiding eye contact the entire time. "See you later tonight, I guess." The door half-slams behind him when he leaves.

 It's a week later when, instead of retreating to his room with his plate, Ernest sits with us at dinner. Hugo and I stop playing footsie under the table immediately to look at him.

"I haven't actually met Mike's boyfriend, yet. I know you were mad about that, but you shouldn't be. But Mike's got a bunch of pictures of him, though, and he told me about him and stuff. And he said that if it was okay with you, he wants me to, like, meet him." Ernest goes silent after having his say.

"Well, okay. I'm fine with that. I'll e-mail him later." Hugo darts a few quick glances at me, unsure. Ernest pushes his food around his plate a bit.

"I think we should all, like, get together. You guys and Mike. Just...together. Everyone." He pushes his outstretched fingers together to make them interlock a few times. "Because...I don't like it when you and Mike fight. You guys get pissy with each other and you think I don't know, but I do. Like, I'm not stupid. So I just thought...Well, I mean, we're supposed to all be a team right? We're supposed to work together...and stuff...or...something."

It's apparent Ernest is struggling to properly convey big thoughts with small words and growing a little frustrated with himself that he can't properly.

"Ernest," Hugo says softly. He reaches out across the table and places his hand in top of his son's. He looks like he wants to pull away but doesn't. "If that's what you want I'm more than happy to oblige. I'll talk to him tonight."

"Cool," Ernest replies. He pulls his hand away, picks up his plate, then vanishes like a ghost into the back of the house. The door closes quietly.

"You did something," Hugo accuses.

"Why the very idea. I'm offended you would even suggest such a thing." I flick my fork at him in defiance.

Hugo smiles at me.

"Did you father my son in my absence?"

"Again, I'm utterly shocked you would think so little of me."

He puts his hand on my thigh.

"Whatever it was, thank you. Really." He leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

"I didn't really do anything," I admit. "He just asked some questions and we just sort of...talked."

"And he listened, so you must be some kind of teenage boy whisperer."

"I'm just not his dad, is all. You remember what it was like to be that age. There are just some things you feel weird talking to your parents about, and I'm not his parent. I'm just some guy."

"Hm. Well, you're a little closer than you realize, I think." He waggles his eyebrows at me a bit.

"I don't-uh-what do you mean?"

"He included you in that 'us' earlier. And he came to you, didn't he? And he certainly sees you more than his other dad, nowadays." Hugo flashes half a grin at me.

"You know I was just getting used to not having to parent, anymore. No one told me I was going to have to put in a few extra years. And with a boy, of all things."

"If he starts calling you 'dad' before me, I'm going to lose it."

"Hey, if you need someone to call you 'daddy,' I can help you out."

Hugo stares me down over the top of his glasses.

"Oh? Really?" His lips meet mine then pull away slightly. "We can always give it a test run." When he kisses me again, the tip of his tongue touches my teeth. Then I remember and push him away just a little.

"I think you might need to consider some possible sound proofing options."