#yes kids are assholes

[mrkida-art]

I don't remember that much of my childhood, but today I suddenly remembered that one time when I started a Tolkien inspired war at my school when I was 7-8 years old.

The war lasted for a week, the entire elementary and middle school joined. We had different armies, all inspired by different characters (I was in the Mickey Mouse army, we had a "general" who was an older boy who would wear a Mickey Mouse hat on the "battlefield", I was his right hand man lmao). We fought using sticks and by throwing chestnuts which we collected in great hordes, the army who stole all the chestnuts from the opposing armies won.

Then the teachers learned of it and they were horrified. They rushed to break it up and got hit with our chestnut artillery in the process. I don't remember how it ended, just that we were sad about it and we had to talk to therapists (???) afterwards.

Idk why I was like that

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two--you are here/ Part Three

Hellfire did in fact, have cookies to sell.

More than cookies, which Dustin practically preened over when Eddie dragged himself back to their table. 

The ornaments they had made were still there, but now the centerpiece was an array of baked goods. Spread out in a spiral, it started from the large cake in the center and spun out into miniature cookies held in tiny decorated bags, all while Harrington stood over them like a proud parent. 

It smelled mockingly delicious. 

Eddie glared at the display, resisting the urge to upend the whole thing onto the floor.

Cookies and cakes and (--was that frickin bread pudding?) whatever other treats Harrington had shown up with might look good, but Eddie didn’t trust it. 

Didn’t trust Harrington, even if the bastard had never really done anything himself--but then, he never had to, had he? 

That was the point of all that money, after all. So he could pay other people to do his dirty work while he kept his hands squeaky clean. 

“Inch a bit to the left--there, stop!” Harrington was saying, like the bossy asshole he was.

Like he thought he could just come in and expect everyone to follow his lead. 

“Perfect! Now don’t touch it.” 

God, Eddie had to nip this in the butt, now. Before King Horrorton harassed his sheep all day, and cemented the club's undeserved bad name in the minds of Hawkins.

“Dustin what did I just say--” 

Eddie stepped up to the front of their table, preparing himself for war.

Looked over to his friends knowing they'd likely need a nod of reassurance. A show from him that said he had this handled.

There was no cowering. 

No pleading, helpless, 'What do we do Eddie!?' gazes aimed his direction.

Hellfire wasn’t even looking at him, and not because they were all avoiding Harrington's line of sight.

No, the fucking traiters were flanking the King. Like they were buddies with the bastard instead of mortal enemies. 

“Hey, Ed’s, Harrington brought pies. Cakes too!” Gareth said around a mouthful of cookie when he noticed Eddie standing before him. 

It came out a garbled mess, but years of experience had Eddie understanding him anyway. 

Jeff was busy playing what sounded like twenty fucking questions regarding the setup, and even Grant appeared comfortable, happily letting Harrington order him around as they finished setting up. 

Like this was some kind of cutesy Disney movie where they all held hands and sang songs instead of a hostile takeover situation. 

Eddie’s eye twitched.

Sensing a disturbance in the force, Jeff looked up and immediately interrupted himself to point to a series of red and green cookies placed dead center, delighted. 

“Check it out man, Steve made some shaped like dice!” 

(And he did say ‘Steve.’ 

Not Harrington, or This Asshole, or The Invading Evil Forces of Darkness.

Just Steve, like Steve was someone Jeff hung out with everyday.

Jeff’s cleric was a dead elf walking.) 

Eddie took note of what was in fact, dice cookies. 

He hated how good they looked.

“There’s four flavors.” Steve told him, cocky little grin on his face as he observed his work.  “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle--and the dice ones are sugar cookies.” 

He licked his lips before finally turning to look at Eddie, hair curling over his face and making him wave a hand to brush them out of his eyes. 

Eddie hated how good he looked too. 

‘Hate, hate, hate, absolutely loathe-’ 

“Great, sure, wonderful.” Eddie managed, though given the look Grant and Jeff both shot him it might have come out as more of a growl. 

Dustin rolled his eyes, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice that Hellfire’s other two youngest hadn’t dared to show their faces yet. 

Likely they knew Eddie was having an absolute meltdown over Steve’s presence and were waiting for his reaction to blow over. 

(Their characters were dead too.) 

“I have two full cakes--one chocolate, on vanilla--and a few individual slices we can sell.” Steve was continuing, as if Eddie wasn’t glaring a hole in his forehead. “Those did really well last year when I made them for the basketball team.” 

Insults fought for space on Eddie’s tongue, but he managed to roll a 20 to pick the best one, opening his mouth to let it fly.

"Harr-" is as far as he got before he was rudely interrupted.

“Steve? Is that you?” A woman Eddie didn’t recognize but was clearly someone's mom came up cautiously to the table, side eyeing the Hellfire banner like a nervous horse. “That can’t be your famous tiramisu, is it?”

Steve beamed at her. “Well hi Miss Carpenter. It is!” 

Eddie was bumped aside by a massive purse, the woman not even glancing in his direction as she stepped up to the table. 

With a sneer, he finally slumped to the back of their little spot as Miss Carpenter looked over all Steve’s (not Hellfire’s and absolutely not Eddie’s) offerings. 

Didn’t care to wipe it off right then, even if he knew he needed to if he wanted to make sales. 

Jeff sent him a look.

The same one he usually aimed Eddie’s way when he thought Eddie’s antics were going to cause problems. 

He ignored it, on grounds that traitors don’t get to be judgy. 

“Oh,” Miss Caprtender tittered, the draw of Harrington’s baked goods clearly overcoming whatever fear she had about Hellfire. “Well I just can’t pass that up. The swim team meets aren’t the same without you!”

Eddie pretended to gag.  

Waited for her to comment on Hellfire--their clothes, their music, hell even the length of Eddie’s hair--and found he was almost disappointed when there wasn't even a single question about why Hawkins precious golden child was slumming it with the weirdos. 

Instead, Miss Carpenter's hand went fishing in her purse for her wallet as she loudly called out over her shoulder, to, presumably another annoying woman; 

“Terry, Steve’s here! He’s been baking!” 

For two terrifying seconds, there was a notable dip in the conversations around them. 

Grant’s eyes went wide as several women responded to the announcement like dogs hearing food hit the floor, and within seconds their table was absolutely swarmed by the mothers of Hawkins.

Even Eddie was taken aback at the sheer number of them. 

“Hold, men, hold.” Dustin cautioned as Jeff and Grant both flinched. “Come on, we need to get our gold!” 

“They’re scary though.” Gareth whispered in horror as four women tried to talk at once, jostling each other so hard they shook the table menacingly. 

“Ladies, ladies there’s enough here for everyone!” Steve laughed, showing off his disgustingly cute dimples as he did, getting several of the mom’s to blush at their own behavior in the process. 

The sheer amount of attention of course, drew in even more people, and Dustin quickly took up directing, planting Jeff and Grant at either end of their table while he and Steve fended off the hoard from the front. 

(Given the way he and Steve were equally ordering Hellfire around, Eddie finally knew where the little shit had picked that attitude up from. He was going to have to cure Dustin of it, ASAP.  ) 

“Here you go Miss Harper.” Steve said sweetly, handing over yet another stack of baked goods.

Without turning his head, and in the tone of voice one used to warn a misbehaving dog, he added; “Gareth don’t think I can’t fucking see you, get back up here.” 

Caught trying to sink under the table with another cookie in his mouth, Gareth found himself hauled back to his feet by his collar, putting a snarl on Eddie’s face immediately. 

“Hey--” He started, defensive and more than ready to intercede, except Gareth wasn’t flinching or cursing or doing that thing he did with his mouth when he was desperately trying to hold in his temper. 

Instead he was giving a sheepish grin and a half-assed apology while he hung in Harrington’s grasp, before doing what the guy told him to do. 

(It did not help that Steve patted him on the shoulder when he released him, before handing Gareth a third fucking cookie.)

Eddie’s eye twitched a second time.

(He told it to knock it off.

It didn’t listen.) 

No one acknowledged Eddie or his outburst, which meant he was just skulking behind the boys while they all worked. 

Arms crossed, rings tapping a rhythm on his forearm, far too keyed up to do anything other than glare at the back of Harrington's skull.

The King seemed perfectly happy to ignore him.

Likewise, Gareth and Grant knew better than to bother him when he was in a snit. 

Henderson made the occasional snappy little comment, but the brat had mostly left him alone now that they were well into the swing of selling, chortling over the increasing stack of cash Steve kept trying to get him to put into a “safe place.” 

Eddie was seconds away from walking up and snatching the cash himself when Jeff decided it was on him to attempt the impossible. 

Get him to help Harrington. 

“More hands would be nice, Eddie!” Jeff called, looking more than a little harassed as the mom he was helping changed her order a second time, snaking out the last single slice of chocolate cake from another mom who was eyeing it. “Steve and I could really use your assistance over here!” 

Eddie’s glare, which had been doing its level best to try and vaporize the King’s brain, switched targets instantly. 

“I’m supervising.” 

Jeff made a face like he was about to argue, but the King beat him to it. 

“It must be tough,” Harrington said, tilting his head to look back towards Eddie, “to supervise people who are working so much harder than you.” 

Which promptly set the mood for the next full hour. 

xXx 

Harrington was matching him tit for tat.

Every shitty, sneered word out of Eddie’s mouth was met with an equally mean toned barb, though given the repeated looks everyone kept shooting him, Eddie was very much considered the aggressor here.

A fact he cannot believe is coming from his own friends.

What happened to comradery? To Eddie stepping in and protecting them, from the likes of people just like Harrington? 

But no, Eddie makes one fucking comment about how the cookies are probably half hair-spray and suddenly he’s the bad guy.

(Nevermind that Steve had fired right back, telling Eddie that any hair-spray taste was probably from all the drugs he did.)

Was somewhat, halfway--okay maybe amazing, Eddie might have snuck a cookie himself--food really all it took to get them all to turn on him like this?

Erase the years of Eddie being their shield? 

Act like Harrington wasn’t just as bitchy and awful as he had been in high school (even if he was, admittedly, being nicer about it all right now? Almost--aloof, like he couldn’t figure out why Eddie hated him so much, but likewise wasn’t going to take even one eye roll sitting down--and no, no, Eddie wasn't derailing this by thinking about Harrington's stupid eyes, he wasn't!) 

Frankly he would have flipped them all the bird and stormed off, if it weren’t for the increasingly weird little comments people were making. 

‘Oh Steve, it's a shock to see you here.’ 

‘Are you doing someone a favor?’ 

‘You know Pastor Jim said something about this game…’

The last one had put Eddie’s teeth on edge, even if Dustin had brushed it off. It hadn’t been aimed at Steve directly but the women saying it had absolutely been looking at the King, as if waiting for his reaction.

Not that Harrington would take the bait this soon, though. 

There were too many people buying fricken…cupcakes and shit, while Horrorton enjoyed the attention of the masses. 

Eventually this tiny crowd would die down though, and that’s when Steve would change his tune. Start answering some of the questions he seemed to be dodging as more and more people got braver about coming up to the table.

This whole thing was a ticking time bomb, and Eddie would be ready when it inevitably blew. 

To defend his table, his club, his friends. 

Even Henderson, who absolutely didn’t deserve it just then. 

“Dude perk up would you? You look like you’re going to stab somebody.” Jeff hissed at him ten minutes later, when there was finally a break in the flood. 

Eddie ignored him in place of taking stock of the table. (And maybe, sneaking another cookie.)

“Hope you brought more than this, Harrington.” He said, knowing he sounded like a stuck up ass and not feeling an iota of guilt about it. “Unless you plan to run home and bake more like a good little housewife.”  

“Dude.” Grant said, casting him a look like King Dick might leave and take the cookies with him.

“Oh I brought more.” Harrington dismissed, with a small flick of his fingers. “And I’ll have you know you’d never find a housewife more perfect than I am, Munson.” 

Then he turned to nail Eddie with the most shit eating grin he’d ever seen the King wear. 

Facing flaming a brilliant red, Eddie sputtered for a second before finally getting ahold of himself and spitting; 

“How delightful. I--” 

“Okay.” Jeff cut in, forever the mediator. “Gary, Dustin can you help Steve pull the extra stuff out from under the tables? While I go talk to Eddie?” 

“Can I try the tiramisu?” Gareth asked, inching hopefully towards the treat while keeping an eye on Harrington’s hands, lest he get smacked again. 

“Only if you’re a good boy.” Harrington told him sarcastically and goddammit why did that make Eddie blush harder!? 

Jeff sighed, before grabbing his arm and hauling Eddie back, away from the table, right as a younger man in some stupid sport’s jacket asked questions about one of the dice cookies.

“Look I get it man, I do,” Jeff started, voice talking in the sort of wheelding, pleading tone it did when he really wanted something and knew Eddie was opposed. “but Steve’s been super cool. We might actually make money off this, and he’s giving us all of it. Can you just… not antagonize him for five minutes?” 

Eddie stared at his best friend in abject horror. 

“You couldn’t have talked to him for more than twenty minutes total. Half of which he spent bitching that you were bagging a cake wrong! At what point was Harrington "being cool!?"

The asterisks were made by his fingers, which Eddie mockingly framed his face with. 

He got a flat, unimpressed stare in return. 

“It was a very informative twenty minutes and he was right about the cake. Now are you going to help or are you going to glower in the corner?” 

Eddie gaped. 

“I cannot believe you right now--”

Jeff didn’t even wait to hear him out.

 “You’ve chosen to glower. I can’t help you man, but we’d all have a much better day if you weren’t at Harrington’s throat every five seconds.” Jeff turned smoothly on his heel.

Over his shoulder he added; “Seriously, don’t come back until you’ve worked your way out of your snit.” 

Shocked, Eddie watched Jeff float back to the front, inserting himself easily between Grant and Steve and immediately striking up a conversation.

With the enemy. 

“I didn’t know you baked.” Jeff told Steve loudly (and very obviously, for Eddie to see.) 

Steve gave a bashful little smile, then shrugged. “It’s a hobby. Got into it back when the basketball team needed to fundraise a few years ago and Tommy’s mom got it in her head we should sell home baked goods. Turns out its kinda fun.” 

“Please never get out of it.” Gareth insisted, a piece of God knows what crammed in his mouth.

“Dude, how many of those have you gotten into!? Stop eating the merchandise!” Dustin commanded, smacking at Gareth’s shoulder. 

“I physically cannot stop man.” Gareth dodged, reaching out for another cookie. “I’m not sorry.” 

Steve just laughed. All charming and buddy-buddy, like it was natural for him to be here. 

Wearing a Hellfire shirt. Making jokes and teasing the guys. 

In Eddie’s fucking place. 

He seethed, fingers twitching, and envisioned the very unsexy murder of one Steve Harrington.  

Cartoon X’s for eyes and all. 

xXx

Trouble didn't hit the table.

It in fact, seemed to stay away as if on purpose, to shove in Eddie's face that he was the one in the wrong here.

Even the questions toned done as the second wave of moms showed up, this round prompted by some former teammate of Steve’s Eddie didn’t recognize yelling about his apple pie.

Instead, Eddie’s wayward sheep finally made their appearance Mike and Lucas trying to sneak in as if Eddie wouldn’t notice during the new rush.

(Eddie himself almost caused trouble when he realized Lucas was wearing a Not-A-Hellfire shirt, which solved the mystery of where Harrington had gotten his.

He was inching his way towards them, a snarky word on his tongue when he saw Sinclair said something about how he was “already on Eddie’s shitlist for joining the basketball team,” in relation to what must have been a question about his Hellfire shirt, that caused Eddie to freeze.

With the air of a sad, wet kitten, Lucas followed it with; “I’m sure it won’t be long before he kicks me out of Hellfire anyway.” 

Like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air left Eddie’s lungs.

Because before Lucas had said that, Eddie had been thinking it. 

Not really--he’d never kick anyone out of Hellfire.

It was more that he'd thought about it in the way one does when you know you're in the right, and are having to resort to underhanded tactics to force the other party to come to their senses.

Like a sort of shitty, angry “I should kick you out, let you see what happens when you don’t have us!” kind of intervention.

The same kind he had heard the jocks sling before, when they were mad at each other and--God he wasn’t--he couldn’t be, like them...could he?

Like fucking Harrington, who oh fuck, was patting Lucas sympathetically on the shoulder and giving him some kind of whispered advice. 

Sonovabitch. 

“I’m going for a smoke.” Eddie bit out, vision tunneling.

He knew he needed to go sit down somewhere, before he fucking lost it in front of Hawkins, Harrington and everyone. 

And wouldn’t that just be a treat for King Steve?

To watch Eddie realize he had turned into the very thing he hated, preached against, even? 

That Steve was, maybe, possibly, doing a better job of following Eddie’s own Munson Doctrine than he was?

Eddie barely saw the room anymore--waived off whatever Grant was trying to say to him as flew past, shaking hands fishing for a desperately needed cigarette.

Maybe a hope and a prayer too, because apparently he needed it.

How long had he been like this? 

Been a douchebag asshole? 

Was it the whole year? More than? Or was it just now, with stupid Steve involved? Could he trace this back to that stupidly cute--no, no, annoying, asshole?

Was this some fucked up way of coping with his growing crush!?

Lost in thought and growing self hatred he nearly careened right into Robin Buckley.

Her slightly bent paper reindeer ears marked her as a memeber of the high school band, who had been absolutely butchering ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ a few minutes earlier. 

Vaguely heard her yell Steve’s name as he ran off (because that’s what Eddie was doing. What he always did.

Run--from himself and his own fucking feelings, like a total cliche.)

--but didn’t take in that she was doing more than saying hi to, oh fuck him sideways--her friend.

Because she and Steve were friends now.

Good ones, if the freshmen were to be believed.

Rather than go outside and catastrophize in the cold, Eddie threw himself threw the doors at the end of the hall, then up the stairwell, to the second floor.

Tucked himself into a corner, right there by the stairs.

Sank down into a crouch, hands scrubbing up his face before tangling in his hair, head dropping between his knees, cigarette shoved into his mouth.

Somehow, Eddie decided, this was Steve’s fault. 

He'd have come up with a reason for that, he was sure. A good one even, except he forgot one of the key features of his life.

He was a Munson, and as a general rule of life, nice neat things did not happen to Munson's--but they did get kicked while they were down.

“Okay, what happened?” Steve fucking Harrington asked, voice loudly echoing up the stairwell from down below, and Eddie threw his head back, nearly slamming it against the wall. 

(Maybe he’d pissed off a witch. His life would make a lot more sense if someone had cursed it.)

“She gave me her number!”

That was Buckley, the shrill timber identifiable even as she whispered the words. 

Eddie can’t really see them without giving himself away--could probably make his escape if he got down and army-crawled past the railing he’s huddled by, but figured this is their fault anyway. 

Not his problem if he overhears a private conversation because they’re both too stupid to check to see if someone was seated literally right up above them.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?" Steve was saying. "That’s what we wanted!” 

“Is it!? What if she’s just, you know, giving it to me?” 

“...I’m not following.” 

“Like in a friend way. Not a--”

“Romantic way?”

Harrington has the smarts to say the words quietly.  So quietly in fact, that had Eddie not been in the exact right position he wouldn’t have heard--but he almost swallowed his unlit (he should have lit it, maybe they'd have smelled the smoke and fucked off) cigarette anyway. 

“Sssshh!” Robin hissed, and Eddie can’t see either of them but he imagined her jamming her hand over Harrington’s big fat mouth. 

“Not so loud, Steve!” 

“Sorry, God.” Sure enough, Harrington’s voice is muffled. “How did she give it to you? Did she say anything?” 

“She asked if I want to hang out after band, but because I have that stupid family thing, I told her I couldn’t today, but I can literally any other day, and she said she’d call me, and I said--” 

“Robs, breathe.” 

“Don’t interrupt me, Dingus!” Robin said, voice shrill again, before she clearly listened to Harrington and took a breath. 

 It was big, and deep, and she blasted it back out loud enough for the fucking birds on the roof to hear. 

In a calmer voice, Robin continued; “I said we never traded phone numbers so I didn’t have hers. She grabbed my arm and wrote her number on it. Look, she added a heart!” 

“Okay, here you go! A hearts a good sign!"  

And Harrington sounded--sounds happy for her, practically ecstatic, which doesn’t make much sense given Robin is talking about a ‘her’ and-

And-and-and--

Eddie’s always been quick to connect the dots. 

It’s something he inherited from his old man. A Munson trait he’s tried to make his own through being an excellent DM (and not by robbing people blind or boosting cars.) 

Here, the dots clearly screamed that Robin Buckley was trying to ask a woman out. 

You know, in a gay way. 

Which Harrington not only knew, but was supportive of. 

Steve Harrington, who famously called Jonathan Byers' a queer before smashing the guy's beloved camera into the ground. 

Eddie’s head exploded. 

Or was in the process of exploding--he’s not entirely sure given the tunnel vision was back and his soul felt like it had exited his body entirely. 

Just knew that his world was being remade for a second time in five minutes, and that he was dealing with it pretty damn poorly.

(Maybe God would be nice for once, and just give him the aneurism he clearly deserved.)

Which was of course, when trouble finally did decide to show face, in the form of Dustin Henderson barging through the doors and into Steve and Robin's little meeting.

Eddie knew, because Eddie could hear him.

“Steve! Steve we have a problem!” 

“I’m busy Dustin--”

“Be busy later, we have an emergency on our hands!” 

“And what, pray tell, do you think is an emergency?” 

Eddie, who had instantly latched onto the conversation by the sheer need to have something distract him from his own thoughts, wondered the very same.

“Jason Carver showed up at the table, with a priest. They’re trying to do some whole kind of crazy sermon--is that a good enough emergency for you!?” 

“Oh shit. ” Steve spat, at the same time Eddie yelled it from up high. 

He sprang up, all thoughts of Robin and Steve knowing he’d eavesdropped vanishing entirely from his head as he lunged for the stairs.

Flew down them, because the thing he'd been waiting all fucking day for had finally happened.

He nearly crashed into Robin once again as he blew through the barely closed doors, Steve and Dustin already far ahead of him.

“Eddie?” Robin asked, voice noticeably nervous. "Were you--"

"Not now Starbuck, but we can talk later." Eddie told her, flying right past.

After he saved Hellfire. 

[wtftaylr]

screenshot redraw (creative liberties taken)

benny "ruining the moment" gecko. get fucking lost bro

[damthosefandoms]

thinking about how bob sheldon never heard “no” in his life and all he wanted was for someone to say it to him, but when they did, he couldn’t process it, because he’s never had consequences in his life. he couldn’t stop because he’s never had to and he doesn’t know how to. he just takes everything too far until he digs a hole he can’t get himself out of (would he have changed if johnny hadn’t killed him? if pony had drowned that night? what wound he have done? what would it take for him to realize what he’s done?)

also thinking about how he yelled at cherry during the break up scene in the musical, how he wasn’t just annoyed, he was angry and how scary it must’ve been for her in the moment, and how she and marcia ditched him and his guys because they were drinking and how in the book version she refused to get in the car with him at the drive in but eventually did anyway, and how book cherry was so stuck on how much bob drank “but when he was sober he was so good to me” and what that sounds like if you think about it too much.

[stickyvoidpaper]

hc that Tim has a false sleep disorder diagnosis from when he was younger because he refused to tell his parents he was awake for most of the night.

[aalghul]

I don’t think it makes sense to assume that Jason was mocking Mia’s past. At all. The thing that got jason painted as violent back in the 80s was his anger against rapists…how does that turn into mocking a victim? and that entire story was written by winick. Do we honestly think winick intended to communicate that? The same writer who made Jason’s first kill a man who was trafficking children? Who had Jason pause in his mission of madness to make sure those kids were found by the right people so they wouldn’t be in further danger?

[i-am-a-fan]

How I think Chapter 12 of Garden Across Our Collarbones By @pittdpeaches should have ended

[clegfly]

“Of course you have an Other Brother,” he says, waving off her denial as he opens some nearby cabinets. “Who else would I be if I wasn’t?”

Small WIP sketch of the Other Brother from IDKSomethingClever99’s fic “Mari in the Pink Palace”!!! OMORI and Coraline are my two biggest interests ever so this fic was like winning the lottery for me. Not to mention how good it is… please go read it ragh

[dailykugisaki]

Day 347 | id in alt

Kugisaki hasn't been around Gojo enough to gaf about him LMAO.

[nectardaddy]

I feel like I may take the break from school I have to just... not do anything. my brain has barely worked for me to write anything the past few days, and what I do write just seems meh

I'll still be here. still be lurking and talking but don't expect much (or any) writing soon

[inconclusionray]

new(ish) due South fic, anyone? In ascending order of spice, we have Strawberry Jelly, written as a gift fic for @cro-mignonette back when we were both on the tumblrs, on the stresses that can lead to alcohol abuse in remote areas, on Ray moving to the middle of nowhere and being undiagnosed ADHD starting to get bored out of his gourd, but mostly about... fruit preservation. As it were. Ahem. Rated T for teen because there are allusions to canon-typical violence between our beloved duo. Then there's Know I'll stay beside that telephone line, which wasn't directly responsible for the change in relationship status between me and @hereeatthiskitten but also wasn't not, so. Kept private because sometimes things are just too precious to be public for a while; she gave me permission to post it years ago, nonetheless, but did I? Look, it's there now, isn't it? Anyway, it's about longing, and repression, and how challenging it can be to change the shape of a relationship, even when you both know the other knows you want to. Talking is awkward, okay, sometimes it's easier in a chat box over the telephone. Rated M, because there is sex, but it's mostly alluded to, not described. Finally, we have the fully smut rated Book, Book, Duck, which if I recall correctly was just me trying to prove to @hereeatthiskitten that Fraser and Duck could so do the deed (ish), what that would look like, and what Ray's reaction would be. It's about... libraries? and alleys? okay it's about dopplegangers and public-ish sex and jealousy and desire. Explicit, no question, though once again, the point is the feelings. Please leave comments on this, it took me over seven years to finish, I crave the validation. That's it! Enjoy! Feel free to use this to promote your new-ish old fandom creations, too! Fic, art, gifs, meta, squees, literally any engagement with this cheesy buddy cop show that is way too good for being as absurd as it is!

[essentiallychaotic]

I think one of the things that just has me tired with listening to all the bs around this election season is the number of people who say “i just dont like [insert person up for office]”

My dudes, you do not need to like them, you need to read their fucking policies and decide whether you think they are the best choice for the community. I’m so sick of “likeability” being an active part of politics. I routinely vote for candidates who I don’t particularly like, but who I trust to consider their constituents and vote in their best interest because They Have Done It Before.

Hearing “I don’t like them” given as the reason to not vote for someone usually just tells me the person did not do their research on the candidate or are just mindlessly consuming propaganda about them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[6qubed]

controversial opinion but I wish ADHD would be renamed by somebody who actually has ADHD

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 11 - Surrogate

"Laqa!", a woman’s voice scolded. "Didn’t I tell you to leave the boy alone?"

A tall woman with long white hair stepped closer and sternly looked at the cheerful blonde boy, who had introduced himself as Laqa. Her voice lacked sharpness though and her dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

"But mommy! A‘viloh seemed so lonely!" Laqa protested and A’viloh thought that she didn’t look like his mother at all. Painfully he was reminded of his own mother’s lifeless green eyes staring through him while her blood, as red as her hair - as red as his hair -, had spread across the sand. Stifling a sob, he buried his face at his knees, which he had pulled to his chest and embraced with his arms.

"A’viloh?", she asked confused. "Is that his name? Did he speak to you?"

Laqa nodded, oblivious to the fact that the red-haired boy hadn’t spoken a single word to the Miqo’te women the whole way back across the desert. "But he says we can call him A‘vi and that he would like to stay with us. We can be his new family, right?"

This had mostly been the blonde boy’s interpretation and nothing A‘viloh had actually said but he didn’t care enough to protest.

The woman thoughtfully tilted her head and looked at both of the boys. Then she knelt down with a sigh and gently put a hand on the crying child’s back, carefully rubbing in circles.

"If it was only this easy… Besides, your father has the last say in this matter. He wants to see him first before he decides what to do with him."

"You can tell him to allow A‘vi to stay!", Laqa insisted. "He will listen to you."

"Maybe…", she mused. "Now go play with your siblings while I speak to your father."

The blonde boy put his arms on his hips and shook his head. "Uh-uh, I‘ll go with you! If he doesn’t listen to you, he will surely listen to me!"

"Laqa…", the woman said a little more sternly. "Do as I tell you or the only thing your father will listen to is your crying when you are grounded for a week."

Alarmed the boy hurried away and the women looked after him for a moment shaking her head, before returning her attention to A‘viloh and stretching out a hand for him to take.

"Now, A‘viloh - if this is your name - follow me, please…"

Anxiously he stared at her hand.

"There’s no need to be afraid anymore, you are safe here.", her voice sounded so soft and soothing, and a kind smile appeared on her face. Somehow the little Miqo’te believed that he could trust her.

Carefully A‘viloh reached out for her hand and let her help him get to his feet. With tiny, weak steps he climbed down from the small platform of the aetheryte and almost fell while doing so.

"Oh, you poor thing. Come here, I‘ll carry you…", she said and picked him up. The warmth of her body surprised the boy and with tears welling up in his eyes again all he wanted to do was to cling to her, pretending she was his mother, and cry until he fell asleep.

But that wasn’t granted to him yet.

"Just a little longer and then you can rest, I promise.", she explained gently and brushed the tears on his face away with her fingers. "Try not to cry now, will you?"

Faintly A‘viloh registered that they entered a building, then a deep, loud voice spoke up. "Can the boy not even walk himself? Isn’t he a little to old already to still be carried around?"

A‘viloh was still too young to put a name to the mockery in the man's voice but whatever it was it made him feel bad.

Reluctantly he let the the woman put him down again but still he held on to her leg and tried to hide behind it.

Angrily she addresses the man at the other side of the room.

"You can certainly see how weakened he is, he probably hasn’t eaten anything in days."

"Indeed, I can see he is quite weakish…", the man stated bluntly. "Give me one good reason why I should burden our hunters to feed one more hungry mouth instead of just sending him home."

"He is just a child, Odh! And he doesn’t have a home anymore!" the woman exclaimed pleadingly. "I told you his whole family was slaughtered by the lizards! Women! children! There was a dead baby barely a year old if at all! I know you’re not this heartless!"

"I‘m not heartless.", he said unmoved. "Just pragmatic. He‘s not one of our own and the tribe always has priority. We should think carefully about wasting our precious resources on outsiders."

Annoyed the woman growled. "You‘ve been listening a bit too much to my old father‘s antiquated nonsense it seems! Weren’t you an outsider yourself once?! Sure, he will have to be fed but don’t worry about your precious supplies! I will take care of and hunt for him all on my own if that’s necessary! I love you, Odh, but make no mistake, sending him away would be nothing but cruel and I don’t remember you treating strangers that way when we met! But if you decide to send him away anyway, know that I will go with him!"

It was an empty threat of course, she could never abandon her children and taking them with her would be too dangerous. But the implication alone had the desired effect.

A smirk appeared on the man’s face, he was visible amused by her emotional outburst. "Of course you are right, my love. How could I deny you any request. He can stay. At least until he is old enough to take care of himself or until he proves his right to belong to this tribe…"

She nodded. "That is all I am asking for, thank you. I will make sure you won’t regret this decision…"

Then the man focused his attention on A‘viloh. "Come over hear, boy! Let me take a look at you."

The women encouraged him to go but only reluctantly he stepped towards the man.

"What is your name?", the deep voice asked. A’viloh didn’t dare to look at him and just stared to the ground shaking, his ears flat at his head and his tail between his legs. Somehow this man scared him.

"Laqa says his name is A‘viloh.", the Miqo’te woman explained.

"Is that so, boy?", the man asked him.

Weakly A‘viloh nodded but didn’t dare to look up. Then the man reached out to him, put a big rough hand below his chin and turned his face upwards so he had to look into his face.

"You should look at people when they speak to you, you know…"

His eyes were bright and piercing and made A‘viloh feel uncomfortable. The man smiled but his smile didn’t look kind for some reason. The boy’s fearful eyes, swollen and red from crying, evaded his gaze, tried to look anywhere else but not at him directly. Finally his eyes landed on one of the windows at the back of the building and he almost gasped in surprise.

Through the glass the curious face of the blonde boy from the aetheryte plaza peeked into the room. As he noticed A‘viloh looking, he grinned and waved, before diving for cover as the two adults followed A’viloh’s surprised look.

For a moment there was silence.

Then the woman stepped beside him and kneeled down with open arms.

"Come, A‘viloh. You must be horribly hungry and tired. And we need to find new clean clothes for you too."

Without protest he let the woman pick him up again but held on tightly to the soft green scarf around his neck. He wouldn’t let her take it away no matter what.

He was glad to get away from the unfriendly man but still threw one last glimpse over his shoulder as they left, back to the window where a pair of blonde Miqo’te ears and curious, warm, golden eyes peeked over the windowsill.

Weakly A‘viloh smiled and cuddled closer to the friendly woman’s warm body.

[jellycreamjammedart]

Just say you think cp is ok as long as the minors are fictional you fuckin pedophile

Normally I ignore hostile or pre-judgmental asks on the off chances I get them, but I'll make exception for this one because it seems like a good opportunity for some much needed nuance-- also because I get this person's disgust, I really do.

But you, my fella, must understand that this isn't about the morality or even lack thereof behind dark fictional content, at all. You must realize that wanting dark and taboo fictional content (yes including that one you mentioned) not being allowed to exist actually does nothing to improve or protect irl lives, much on the contrary actually. No, I don't think there's any possible moral reason behind fictional cp content (nor do I find it 'ok',) but once again, this isn't about morality.

Please take a moment to read this thread (it words this topic better than me) then think it over. Trust me, it's a better use of your time than annoying ppl online with words you can't even bother standing up for with your name/face.

[miffysrambles]

rab-bot screenshot edit !!!

their spotify playlist and non-shaded version is under the cut !!!