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#I never posted the first version to tumblr
vanteguccir · 2 days
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Hey guys! I actually spent long minutes staring at these reblogs and debating whether it was worth responding and talking about or not. But as I'm not the type to take hate and keep quiet, I decided to talk about it.
First of all, Reia, you really seem like a person who doesn't read many fanfics for the way you put it in your text, so I'll explain the meaning of the word. Fanfic, short for "fan fiction", is a story written by a fan based on characters, universes, or real people (like the triplets). Fans create their own narratives, expanding or reimagining everything, creating their own version, which in real life does not exist OR, as writers, we often draw inspiration from real-life events too.
And yes, you and Evangeline are trying to be "fanfic police" and even "sturniolo police", if you scroll through the thousands of Sturniolo Triplets fanfics, you will come across A LOT where Matt, Nick or Chris go through situations of anxiety attack, panic attack, OR where the "reader" herself goes through this, sometimes even involving situations way worse than that. Furthermore, there's thousands of fanfics describing explicit sex scenes with them, the famous smuts, does that bother you too? Because in the world of someone who writes a FANFIC in here, it doesn't.
And yes, I was indeed writing about the meet and greet situation, and this was nothing new to ANYONE in the fandom WHO READS THE FANFICS HERE. I even made a post the day before ASKING who would like to read the idea, and you want to know the news? All 200 people who voted wanted it.
I understand that you feel this story is disrespectful FOR YOU, especially because it touches on a real-life situation that may be sensitive or painful for some people. I want to assure you that it was never my intention to cause harm or disrespect anyone involved in that situation.
I myself am diagnosed with chronic anxiety, and even so, I didn't feel affected by the way I wrote. In fact, I described how I feel during MY anxiety attacks.
In no way did I make fun of the situation Matt went through, in fact, my intention in writing this story was to explore Matt's complexity and show how he deals with real problems, such as anxiety. It was a way to give more depth to his situation during the tour and highlight the importance of the emotional support he receives from "Y/N". It was not my intention to mock him, but rather to explore his humanity and the challenges he faced, and I know with all the certainty in the world that I did not mock him, much less affect the people who read the story.
Please, I ask you to reevaluate the need to throw hate at a person who has nothing to do with your outside the box opinions of what WRITERS ON THE STURNIOLO'S TUMBLR should or shouldn't write about.
There are thousands of posts on Instagram and TikTok from "fans" really mocking Matt and throwing hate at him about "their bad experiences" during one of the shows, these are the people you should be giving a piece of your mind to, not me. 🩷
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hypnobrainwasher · 3 days
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So you're a virgin...
but you're also reading this, a post from a rather sexually-charged and fairly corruptive blog on Tumblr, a place well-known for blogs of this sort, which means you probably aren't interested in staying a virgin all that much longer. And gosh, I hope you're 18, because if you're not, you need to leave; what I'm about to say is not for little ears.
(Also, the concept of virginity is absolute hogwash and needs to be relegated to the dustbin of history, but I digress.)
I see you. I see you in my likes. I know what you're about, and you're just about ready to admit it. It's there, right below the surface, just a whisper away from getting out. I know you. You want sex, but not just sex. Not the kind of sex girls typically have on their first time, the awkward fumblings of two inexperienced people figuring everything out for the first time, the kind where he awkwardly blows his load ten seconds in and you're left to wonder what all the hype is about for sex. Not that sex.
You want to get railed. You want to get used. You want to be FUCKED.
You're tired of being a slut online but a virgin in practice. You've thought this through. It's time.
Maybe he's a little older. Maybe a lot. You've always known where to find him. He's definitely experienced. He will make you cum with his mouth and then pound your pussy until you can't form a coherent thought. He'll blow your mind, but that's okay, you're tired of thinking. It's just easier to listen and please him, and that feels right. You'll do the things you fantasized about for so long. It'll be depraved and wonderful.
Maybe she is a little older, or a lot. She'll leave your legs shaking and questioning everything you know. She'll make you wonder why you didn't do this so much sooner. And she'll smile at you as you have another orgasm and let out a moan the likes of which you've never heard before, and call you a good girl, and you'll nod as you gasp for breath. She's right.
Maybe one person isn't enough. Maybe you need two. Maybe you want to be spit-roasted for your first time, finally used how you're meant to be used after all these years. Finally where you're supposed to be, full, pleasing, of service. Finally home.
Maybe two isn't enough. Maybe you have that older friend who has done stuff like this, who knows a guy, who knows a guy. Maybe you want to go really big, and you want to have a lot of sex for your first time, with different guys, and this friend sets it up. They all come over. They all cum all over. It's your dream, finally realized, and you have to share it. You just have to.
You'll come back here, sore, tired, but feeling amazing. You understand now what the hype is about. You want to share it all with us, because we're the only ones who understand who you are, the only ones who see you, really see you. And we'll be here, encouraging you to be the best version of yourself. The version you decided no longer includes being a virgin.
We're so glad you're here.
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kirain · 6 hours
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I saw a comment of yours about Ascended Astarion and I just wanted to say him sacrificing 7000 bloodthirsty vampires that can't control their bloodlust isn't a bad thing. If anything it's a mercy killing. People enjoy Ascended Astarion because it's cathartic for a lot of people who've suffered similar abuse. You lack empathy.
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I think you may have the wrong person, because I've never commented on ascended Astarion. The only time I've come relatively close was when I discussed Neil Newbon's stance on him in the comments of a viral post, where a Tumblr user got mad at him for saying, "Meh. He's not for me." And even then, I made it abundantly clear that I don't have a problem with people who enjoy ascended Astarion. I was more so defending Neil for having a preference, which he's allowed to have. Is that what you're talking about? Because I haven't discussed ascended Astarion anywhere else. 😅
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As for your comment ... what? First of all, an unconsensual sacrifice isn't a mercy killing, it's murder. They didn't want to die. Those innocent people—and yes, they are innocent; Cazador captured and enslaved them—don't simply die. As per the infernal contract, they go to hell. Specifically to Mephistopheles, the second most powerful and cruel archdevil in the hells. They will suffer for all eternity. That's not merciful. Personally, I'd rather be an undead spawn who has to drink rat blood every now and then.
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Second, if you feel that way about all those spawn, then you should keep the same energy for Astarion, because he's the same as them. The only difference is they haven't had a chance to live in the real world or learn to control their hunger. Now, I do agree setting thousands of spawn loose on the Sword Coast is a lot, and potentially dangerous for the living, but the Gur will keep an eye on them, as is their oath. If you let them go, you give them a choice. They're still slaves to their hunger, and they likely always will be, but they get to choose how to satisfy it. If they truly can't resist harming others, then the Gur (and paladins) will surely kill them; which sounds horrible, but at least they'll be spared a gruesome afterlife.
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Cazador took their choice away, as he did with Astarion. If they deserve to die, if they don't deserve a chance to prove they can live peacefully in Faerûn, then the same goes for Astarion. That's part of what makes his ascension so hypocritical. He's no better than Cazador, in the sense that he takes their agency away and uses them for the exact same purpose. Those spawn even could've been Astarion. He just so happened to be the "lucky" one who had a parasite crawl into his head. He's special to the player because we know him, but he could've been any of his siblings. He is all 7,006 of those spawn.
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I will admit I didn't ascend Astarion, as I personally think it's the worst path for him, but you have it backwards. I didn't deny him ascension because I lack empathy. I denied him ascension because all I have is empathy, and that extends to characters who aren't the main focus of the game. You do what makes you happy, but I don't think becoming the worst version of yourself is healing, and I care about Astarion (and the people around him) too much to watch him continue the cycle. Sebastian, Dalyria, Chessa, all the others trapped in the cages—they have names and they're victims, too. For me, the most cathartic moment of Astarion's quest was when he realised it and set them free.
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Cruel Summer - Chapter 1
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: The "Eddie Munson is a speedway racer" high school AU no one asked for, but you're getting it anyways. Enemies to friends to lovers | No-Upsidedown AU | Fast cars, fast times | Reader moved from "the city" to Hawkins
Tags [will be updated as things progress]: swearing, underage drinking, dangerous driving, Jason sucks as usual, mentions of weed, light angst, misunderstandings, reader is afab, not sure if I'll have smut yet or not
A/N: Chapter 1 is already on Ao3 but here's the Tumblr version! New chapters will always be posted on Ao3 first, with a week or so delay to here.
CH1: 3,780w
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“Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning, I sit around / Trying to smile, but the air is so heavy and dry”
If anyone had asked, you wouldn’t have said car racing was something you’d be interested in. Watching hunks of metal speeding around in circles always seemed pretty pointless to you. When combined with the auditory chaos of engines and screaming crowds, and nauseating smell of gasoline and burning rubber, it had never been high on your bucket list.
Then again, neither had moving to Hawkins, Indiana. And yet, here you were: stuck in small-town nowhere for (just, you hoped) the summer. But a summer practically felt like forever to you.
And so you were at the speedway car races with your cousin, Robin. Because apparently, she said, it would “be fun” and “social” and “lots of people went.” 
You supposed you should be lucky Robin was pretty chill about hanging out with you. After all, having your city-slicker cousin practically dumped on your doorstep without so much as a “by your leave” by your parents — who had gone off to “rediscover themselves” and hopefully salvage five years of impending divorce — probably wasn’t high on HER bucket list, either. She and her parents had been more than welcoming, sticking you and your five overstuffed suitcases in the spare room on the second floor, just next door to Robin, without hesitation and urging you to make yourself at home.
If you saw Robin and her parents exchange some pointed and pitying glances, well, you’d just try and ignore them. Because they were right. Your parents clearly didn’t care enough about you to take you with them on their wild second-honeymoon or whatever, so they’d abandoned you without looking back, saying they’d pick you up in a couple months before school started up again. They thought. Maybe homeschooling had been implied as a possibility if they happened to return a bit later than assumed from…Panama? Costa Rica? Whatever warm, probably tropical, place they’d gone to. Without their only daughter. 
Honestly, sometimes you just felt the truth of it in your bones when, at the height of their marital Cold War, they’d each called the other some variant of “frigid bitch.” Only the coldest of the cold would up and abandon their offspring like that, without any evident desire to really take responsibility for them ever again. If you just wandered off at the end of the summer, got a job waiting tables in the nearest big city, didn’t bother to send a forwarding address, you didn’t think they’d be too fussed. Depressing.
The frozen atmosphere at home had gone on so long, you’d practically adopted aloofness yourself as a survival mode. What you didn’t feel, couldn’t hurt. Didn’t help you with making any friends once you’d entered high school, but it kept anyone from really bothering you for three years. The summer before your senior year was supposed to be this golden eternity of afternoons at the pool, perfecting your tan, or giggling at the local mall while licking ice creams and debating who-liked-who-liked-who. 
Not wasting away in Hawkins, a town small enough you bet you could count all of the stoplights on one hand. 
You missed the city so much it ached . Missed the dizzying heights of the buildings towering above you, missed the way the very air seemed to thrum with an energy, a beat that got into your pulse and made you feel alive. Missed the hole-in-the-wall restaurants on every street and the used bookstores piled high with more volumes than you could read in a lifetime. Hawkins was…quaint, but inside you worried if you stayed here long enough it would drain the life out of you until you couldn’t make it anywhere else. 
Not that you’d say any of that to Robin, who was babbling cheerfully away at your side as you strolled up to the local speedway just out of town. She was wearing a loose striped men’s shirt with the cuffs rolled up and jeans, despite the lingering heat of the evening. Robin, you’d come to learn, was pretty much always babbling about something or another, a natural condition that tended to get even worse whenever she was flustered or nervous. Given your tendency to listen, rather than speak, you actually balanced each other out rather well. With her, surprisingly, you felt you could be…yourself…that little bit more. Felt a bit of that icy shell melt away. 
You tuned back in to hear her say, “We’re going to meet up with Steve, he’s gotten there early to stake us out a spot. You wouldn’t think it but it can get really crowded and picking the right spot out of the sun and the dust and on the right side of the track is, like, crucial to the enjoyment factor. Steve’s a boy, by the way. He’s not my boyfriend – well, he’s a boy who’s a friend, but we’re not like that, actually he’s more like an annoying brother. But he’s not annoying, I promise!”
You smiled to yourself as Robin rambled on. Truly, you found it more endearing than not. 
“I’m sure he’s nice,” you said, cutting in so Robin could actually take a full breath. She smiled back at you.
“Yeah, he’s great. But don’t tell him I said that, I swear his hair grows an inch every time someone says something nice about him.”
You smiled and promised that, of course, you wouldn’t breathe a word. 
The two of you step up to the bored-looking teenager taking tickets, and you passed over your paper stub, slightly sweaty from being clutched in your hand. Stepping through the entrance gate, you’re immediately assaulted with the smell of deep-fried foods mixed with beer, the raucous laughter of crowds of families and teens here for an evening out. A fine dust permeated the air, making your eyes water. The track, a packed dirt oval that was both bigger and smaller than you imagined, spread out before you, bordered by some haphazardly stacked rectangle bales of hay you assumed were there for the “safety” of the crowd, though they looked anything but. You imagined any car crashing into those at serious speed would take them out easily…as well as the onlookers setting up their camp chairs frighteningly close to the barrier. 
Across the track, a small elevated building rigged with wires and a mounted loudspeaker was clearly where the announcers were situated. Tinny commentary was blaring from the PA system, but it was almost impossible to hear above the general din. 
There were mullets and wife-beaters on display everywhere. As you looked around, you noted that everyone – and you mean everyone – seemed to be dressed in nothing more formal than jeans and a shirt. You hadn’t batted an eye when Robin left the house like that, because that’s what your cousin always wore. And she’d told you to dress casual but…
“Robin,” you asked, “am I overdressed?”
She’d been herding you along the track toward one end, but at your question she glanced over at you and winced, which you supposed was answer enough. 
“Robinnnnn,” you whined. 
“What?” she protested. “I said ‘casual,’ that’s what you came out in, so I figured it was fine!”
Up until you saw the sea of daisy dukes before you, you’d thought what you were wearing was casual. It certainly was back in the city. The simple, white-and-red polkadot dress you were wearing, cinched at the waist with a plain wide belt you’d dug out the bottom of your suitcase, cute frilly sleeves sitting just below your tanned shoulders, wouldn’t have been anything your classmates back home blinked at. You hadn’t even done your makeup, besides a swipe of lip gloss! But you were rapidly getting the sense you’d have to redefine your expectations here in Hawkins. And with the swirls of rust-colored dust almost constantly permeating the air, you could already tell white was a particularly bad choice.
Oh well, you’d just have to make the best of it. And get the dress in the wash sooner rather than later. 
“It’s alright, Robin,” you reassured your cousin, who’d been worrying at her lip while you thought. “It’s just a dress. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be in any of the cars,” you joked.
“Steve’ll probably have a blanket or something you can use anyways,” she said. “He’s a dad like that. Oh look, there he is. Steve! Steeeeve! Ugh, he isn’t listening. OI, DINGUS!”
Robin waved frantically at a boy a bit ahead of you, who’d staked out a pretty prime spot on the hillside around the middle of the straightaway, complete with camping chairs, picnic blanket and cooler of what you desperately hoped was something cold. Now this is what you’d imagined when Robin said “races.” And it was comfortingly far away from the hay barrier.
The boy – Steve – raked his hands through his already artfully disheveled mop of hair and rolled his eyes at Robin. 
“Could you shout any louder?” he grumbled. “Jesus, I think the whole crowd heard you.”
“Oh don’t be such a wuss. Hey, this is my cousin. She’s cool. Cousin, meet Steve. He’s a dweeb.”
“A dweeb with charm, also known as the best kind,” Steve said with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand. “I heard you’re in town for the summer. Welcome to Hawkins – guessing it’s a pretty big change from where you’re from.”
“Um, yeah, wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s better than I thought. Lots of nice people,” you offered him a small smile in return, a bit taken aback by the easy way he folded you into the dynamic. 
“I’ll bet,” he agreed. “First time at a speedway?”
“First time at any kind of races,” you admitted. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Not much too it really,” Robin said around a mouthful of beer. Clearly, she’d helped herself to Steve’s stash, but by the way he just shook his head, you got the sense this was basically normal. He silently offered you a bottle, but you shook your head – maybe in a bit. Steve did seem nice, but you weren’t quite ready to be under the influence under someone new just yet. Robin kept talking: “Cars go zoom zoom, and the one that goes zoom zoom the fastest wins. We mostly just come here to support Eddie.”
You cocked your head. “Who’s Eddie?”
“Friend from school. He’s been working extra shifts all summer, which is why you haven’t met him yet. He works down at the local body shop, races on the side. We’ll point his car out when he’s up.”
You nodded, sure he’d be nice too, if Robin’s taste in friends so far was anything to go by. 
The three of you sat, chatting amiably for a few minutes, and you felt yourself relaxing into Robin and Steve’s easy, familiar banter. They traded well-worn jabs back and forth, but there’s no heat behind them. You settled yourself on the blanket between them, tucking your skirt beneath your legs and mostly enjoying the vibe, only chiming in when you had something to say, like when Steve started to say “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” was supposedly underrated (he was wrong, and both you and Robin soundly told him so). 
As the sun finally started to go down – days were still long and hot, and all three of you were peevishly slapping at overly familiar mosquitos – the track lights finally flickered into life and it seemed like things were about to start. Robin let out a squeal, wiggling her knees in excitement. 
You were all ready for – you didn’t know, monster trucks or something? – when, to your surprise, the first line of cars that raced onto the track looked more like glorified go karts than anything else. Seeing your confusion, Steve leaned over and murmured, “They do the kiddie stuff first,” and you then saw that the drivers did seem awfully young. Fortunately they were wearing helmets.
The announcer counted down the start, and at the waving of the first green flag they tore around the track, kicking up immense clouds of gasoline-scented dust that settled over everything – your hair, your clothes, you could even see it coating the fine hairs on your arm. Gross. 
And these little kids were vicious. Not crashing directly into each other, but drifting aggressively around the turns and cutting each other off within what looked like inches to spare between bumpers. Everyone was cheering on individual numbers, and you, Steve and Robin got into it by picking your favorite car and rooting for them at the top of your lungs. After a few heats you felt your throat dry up, and gratefully accepted one of the cooling bottles of beer Steve offered. 
Beer with friends on a Friday night. Weirdly, this felt more like how you thought summer was supposed to go than you figured you’d get in Hawkins. Or anywhere. 
As the night wore on, the races of the small and mid-sized cars started to blur into each other, and you started idly wondering when you’d be able to go home. Well. To Robin’s home. 
“And nowwwww, the event you’ve all been waiting forrrrr!” shrilled the announcer.
From the back paddock where all the cars were parked, there came a grunty rumble. A vibration that made its way into your bones, your veins, the thump-thump of your heart. This was the rhythm you’d been missing, filling you up from the inside out. 
And then, the first line of proper-sized cars ripped their way onto the track, to a massive cheer from the crowd. But you weren’t even sure you could call them “cars.” Dinged, dented, and beaten back into shape, these were machines reduced to the essence of speed. Any extra baggage had clearly been ripped out – seats, radio, even the entire bottom half of the trunk was gone. What was left was the engines, the driver’s seat, and anything essential to make them go. 
They ran a few menacing laps around the track, jostling for position on the grid. 
“Look, there’s Eddie!” Robin pointed.
“Which one is he?” you asked.
“The black one, with the red bat on the hood.”
“Eddie’s always had a flair for the dramatic,” Steve clarified. 
Your eyes traced the black car as Eddie maneuvered it into the inside of the track, on the front row – “That’s a good position,” Steve clarified again. Unlike most of the other cars, which had paint jobs in varying states of peeling off, Eddie clearly kept his car freshly painted despite the risk of damage – it gleamed, pitch blank, with just the blood red of the bat leaping out of the design. From what you could see of Eddie, as he was mostly shielded by a helmet, he was also in all black. 
“I’m sensing a theme,” you muttered dryly. 
Like horses jostling for position, the cars – there must have been a dozen or so – revved their engines just behind the starting line. There was an agonizing moment of tension, where everyone stared at the red stoplight holding them in place. 
Then it winked green, the flag was waved, and the race began. 
You watched as Eddie’s car and the one on his right, painted a chipped red-white-and-blue roared to the front like bats of out hell. They gunned it down the straightaway before whipping into a drift around the curve that was so aggressive, their cars yawing onto two wheels so hard, your hands flew to your mouth to swallow a gasp despite yourself, sure they’d tip over or spin out. Magically Eddie’s car righted itself as he came out of the turn and he gunned it down the next straight, neck and neck with the other vehicle. 
The laps went by in what felt to you like seconds, a frenetic dance conducted at speed. With the razor-thin margins the two cars took the turns, you knew that if Eddie lost concentration for a nanosecond, he’d be out of the race. You blinked dust out of your eyes furiously, loath to miss a single second. Next to you, Robin and Steve were yelling – you were pretty sure Robin was just repeating profanities at this point – but you could hardly make yourself breathe normally, let alone cheer. 
There were only a few laps to go and the other car had stolen the lead from Eddie. Though Eddie was keeping the black monstrosity right on his tail, pushing himself right into the rear bumper to try and throw the other driver off. 
They made another sharp drift around a corner and, as they came off the curve, Eddie made his move, pushing the throttle to take his car around the outside of the red-and-white leader. He took the turn, hard, trying to get his nose in front of the other car’s, and this time you did let out a whimper of concern. Your heart thumped in time with the roar of the crowd, and when Eddie made it, slipping in front of his rival to cross the finish line first, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief. 
Steve and Robin were now jumping up and down and hugging each other, and you smiled at their infectious joy. 
The other cars coasted to a stop in the middle of the track while Eddie took his victory lap, waving the checkered flag from out the driver’s window. He must have spotted the two maniacs next to you, because the car rolled to a stop on the track in front of you, and Eddie stepped out from the car. 
You knew he drove like a devil, but you weren’t expecting him to look like a fallen angel. 
A strange shiver ran through you as you watched him pull off his black helmet. Long, dark curls spilled out, framing his sharp, sculpted face. Even with his bangs sweat-soaked and disheveled, he was capital H-O-T. Dark hair, dark eyes, with a plush mouth you knew was made for sin. He was everything your parents would have warned you away from, and everything you – or your body, at least – immediately wanted. 
“Be normal,” you thought to yourself. “This is Robin’s friend .”
Robin and Steve trotted down to the side of the track, and you trailed behind them, a little unsure. It was the last race of the evening, and with the entertainment over, the crowds were starting to melt away. It didn’t escape your notice that while all the other drivers were getting handshakes and back-slaps galore from their fellow racers and even some officials, no one had come over to congratulate the actual winner, Eddie, except for the three of you.
“Edieeeeee, you won!” Robin shrieked at her usual top-volume. “But also, ugh, you smell like fumes, ew no, don’t hug me.” She wiggled away from his playful attempt at a hug, wrinkling your nose. 
“Comes with the territory, Robin, you’re just gonna have to get used to it. You certainly don’t mind when I’m fixing your car for free, again . Hey, Steve, nice of the King to make an appearance.” The two boys traded fist bumps, Steve rolling his eyes at his high school nickname. You broke into a wide smile at their antics. 
Eddie’s eyes met yours, where you lingered behind, and he arched one eyebrow, his previously warm and open expression becoming more guarded, scanning you from the top of your windswept hair to the bottom of your now quite dusty flats. Your smile faded, and you resisted the urge to brush yourself off in the face of his gaze.
“Who’s this?” he asked. “Wasn’t aware we had a third cheerleader on the squad. Does little miss Dots like what she has to see so far?”
You find yourself bristling at his presumptuous tone. “I don’t quite take your meaning,” you respond stiffly. 
Eddie laughed, an open, easy sound you could have loved – except for the sharp edge to his voice. He straddled the hay bale, spreading his hands open. You tried not to look at how his black racing uniform stretched tight over his thighs. Really, you tried. 
“Come on, guys, this is a joke, right? Ha, ha, Eddie’s first race of the season, let’s get a cute little cupcake of a girl to come along, flirt a little, string lil ’ol Eddie along? Give the girl a ride to remember?”
He fixed his molten brown eyes on you. “Did someone put you up to it, Dots? Patrick? Jason? It’s the sort of shit thing Jason would do.”
By this point, both Steve and Robin were exchanging a confused glance that clearly conveyed their shared sense of, “uh, what?” But you knew exactly what. 
Eddie had taken one look at you – at your too-much dress, too-much smile, maybe something else you didn’t even know in your demeanor – and concluded that the only possible explanation for your presence was that you were a…paid escort? Hooker? Someone bribed to come watch his race and flutter your eyelashes at him, spread her legs?
You felt the usual protection of your ice queen reputation from back home freezing off any earlier warmth from your expression. 
“Someone clearly has a high opinion of himself. I’m not going to cream just because you’ve got half skills with half a car. Get over yourself. Robin,” you turn to your cousin, “I’m going back to the house.”
“It’s miles to the house,” Robin protested, nervous gaze flicking between you – fuming – and Eddie – nonchalantly picking at his cuticles, not sparing you another glance. 
“I’ll walk.” It was only a mile or so to Robin’s, and you didn’t want to spend a single second more in his company, friends with your cousin or not. Eddie’d done a spectacular job of reminding you why you usually didn’t do things that were “fun” or “social” or that “lots of people” went to. You didn’t need another asshole man in your life, your father was doing a bang-up job of that by himself. 
“I’d give you a ride, Dots, but as you can see,” Eddie gestured to the literally empty passenger seat in the stock car next to him, “I can’t.”
“Fuck you,” you hissed, whirling around and stomping off before reaching a hand up to swipe angrily at the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. 
You heard Robin run after you. “She’s my cousin you MORON,” she called back to Eddie. When she caught up to you, you gave her a watery smile in thanks, and she reached over to squeeze your shoulders. 
New item for your summer bucket list: Never, ever see Eddie again.
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NEXT TIME: You and Robin go to a party.
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khalliys · 8 months
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Wearing her wife's warpaint.
I was looking to redraw something and since I never really liked my first attempt, I chose to redo this screenshot art. I just needed Beau to look even hotter.
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tomaturtles · 1 month
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Happy Campus Apocalypse volume 1 16th anniversary here's something to celebrate
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empyreasheart · 2 months
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drawings i made inspired by a convo in the tags with @vaguely-annoyed
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skitskatdacat63 · 7 months
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Boy King Seb :D
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#thank you to Grace for the idea of making his chivarly collar red bull instead <33333#he was gonna have both collars but then making that one made me suffer so no not today#this was a lot of fun but also made me suffer. but i keep looking at it and being like AAAHHHHH BABY!!! BABY BOY!!!!!!!#can you believe i tried to do this in one night? i cant#i stopped and came back to it and was like 'no way you could do this in one sitting at 1 am'#this is kinda the ascended form of that very first sketch i made for this au! concentrated boy king sebby!!!#i say to myself i need to take a break from drawing complicated things but youll prob see a nando version of this in less than a week ;;;#okay about the drawing(i wrote good tags and then tumblr deleted them so these are a bit inferior AGH):#this is typical pouty seb but is also referenced off a specific pic from AD 2009(beloved)#its very important to me how emotionally open Seb is. im not sure the specific context of this. maybe after a triumph?#but instead of being that typical stoic serious detached kind of ruler; i like him being openly emotional(think AD 2010)#its important as well for his dichotomy with nando and how they choose to portray themselves#seb is very assured in himself and his rule vs. nando who is more insecure and bitter about his#so nando takes strides to portray himself in that more stoic calculating way bcs he feels like it helps him legitimize himself better#whereas seb has absolutely no care for outward public image and shows how he feels and is loved for it(nando hates it but loves it)#not that nando cant be fun and whimsical!! but to me he always seems a bit more mysterious; like i can never tell his true thoughts tbh#anyways i feel like ill finish 10 more drawings before i end up posting the lore pt 2 LMAO#its just a lot harder to organize and layout compared to part 1 which was just an explanation#pt2 would be a mix of more world building/characterization/anecdotes ive talked about with mutuals(LOVE YOU GUYS!!!)#i have a *lot* of ideas (gotta whip out my notes app every once in a while to write down stuff abt it) just hard to put into a coherent pos#sebastian vettel#f1#formula 1#f1 art#formula 1 art#f1 fanart#formula 1 fanart#catie.art.#*ill prob make a process post later if anyone is curious!! its fun to write abt my process and influences and such#boy king au
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seventh-district · 3 days
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so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh
#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr 2.2#hsr spoilers#hsr leaks#the body of this post reads as far less enthusiastic than i really am#i just don’t know how to casually return from my latest 2 week hiatus only to gush abt a game i’ve hardly blogged abt before#but i’m not making a whole ass sideblog for it like i did for Genshin. nah y’all r gonna bear witness to my fixation with this one#so anyways don’t mind me. vibrating into another dimension with anticipation for the next 11 days#it’s insane man. a year ago i Never ever woulda thought i’d be so invested in this game. and it took Months for the game to really grab me#but i’m v glad i kept coming back even when i was struggling to really get into it. like i just had this feeling that if i stuck around and#gave the game a chance to really like. come into its stride. i just always felt like there was Something there and i just hadn’t found it#and holy shit i finally found it in Penacony. the devs really truly outdid themselves with this region and these characters and this story#not to discount everything that’s happened prior. like i was genuinely Liking it all before now but i wasn’t Loving it y’know#but that may be more a ‘me having to fight tooth n’ nail to force myself to consume new media’ thing than it is a matter of the actual game#anyways i came here to talk abt the program! bc since i’m not filming my HSR stuff i’m gonna be insufferable abt it on Tumblr instead ! :)#and i’m probably not filming any more Genshin stuff. or anything else at all for that matter but let’s not talk abt that dead dream#pun not intended lmao. Anyways let’s return to the subject at hand while there’s still room left in these tags shall we#i’m so fucking glad they had Aventurine on this program man. especially since he’s leaked to only have 18 lines in 2.2… it was nice to see-#-him here at least 🥹 i’ll take what i can get. his unenthusiastic little bird noises at the beginning.. him being reluctant to come out..#the way one of the first things to come out of his mouth was ‘y’know DR RATIO once told me…’ like boy we get it ur in love with him 🙄 (/J!)#i love how they can’t go on these programs w/o talking abt each other it’s adorable. AND THE WAY HE WAS THE ONE TO EXPLAIN BOOTHILL’S KIT!?#they can’t just fuel my crackship like this… god and his whole ‘muddle-fudger.. son-of-a-nice-lady?’ thing had me wheezing#Aven mocking Boothill’s inability to curse was not on my special program bingo card but fuck i’m here for it#and Robin being all curious abt him was so cute.. ‘who /is/ he? … does he order milk at the bar?’ i’m crying she’s so sweet#also the trailer was fucking insane. which feels redundant as hell bc all of HoYo’s version trailers go hard but like. still. wow.#that millisecond long shot of Boothill surveying the skyline is so fucking good. also what the fuck is Jing Yuan doing here!!#not complaining at all tho. we’ve got JY & DH(IL?). Argenti(?). Boothill. Sunday. Aven. all my men r here and i am eating so fucking good#Seven.txt#viddy game stuff
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asphodeldreams · 1 year
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old piece i started in 2018 when i first watched the show, but didn’t finish until sometime in 2021
these two still make my heart absolutely soar
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sadhorsegirl · 9 months
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#finally got three days off from work in a row and am happy to announce ill be making a return to my true passion -- moiraine posting !#directors cut commentary in the tags obvi lol#first off if there was any god in this world the fiona apple cover of whole of the moon would be on spotify#second need it on the official record that i am intentionally misinterpreting jig of life for the purposes of this playlist!!#i know on the album its part of a series of story songs abt a woman drowning and her future self going girl u have to swim or u wont have#your future family!!!#but. what if i made it about an alternate version of moiraine being like u are never going to be able to fully escape the heterosexual#horror saw trap of ur upbringing that haunts her upon return to cairhien...is this clicking with anyone else out there....#had to throw on heat lightning and unravel for a spot of (possibly uplifting ?) romance#and also bc the tumblr user previously known as loamvessel is so right and true for saying heat lightning is a siuraine/moiraine song#anywayyy this is a playlist abt moiraine suffering returning to her home town after graduating from college and failing to kill the devil#and all the weird feelings she must have about cairhien and her place in the pattern/more self reflection on her younger years#in the aftermath of season one#with little hints about how her dynamic might be shifting with siuan as she self isolates#enjoy lol love making playlists happy summer cant wait till september etc etc#moiraine damodred#wheel of time#wot on prime#playlist
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master-of-fluff · 2 years
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You know what i think is cool? When people make earily similar ocs i remember being like 11 and coming up with a naruto oc hikaru that was sasukes sister and then finding out that there was like hundreds of fics with the same premise right down to the very name, same with ninjago and the purple/silver ninja OCS except each one is unique in its own ways.
like the fandom just had a sort of hivemind like 'hey you know what this story needs this character that is so awesome' and we were right, the story was very much improved.
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spinsterennui · 1 year
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I was tagged by the lovely @archetypewriter ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you so much for thinking of me darling!!! Fair warning, though: you’ve asked *an English lit grad student* to answer questions in a written format. I hope you’ve learned your lesson lol. In my defense, I can’t help being verbose; it’s my nature!!! 😂😭
Tag 9 people you want to get to know better!!!
Last song: XTC “Respectable Street”
Last show: Burn Notice
Currently watching: I always have the tv on in the background bc it reduces anxiety for me, but I’m not necessarily watching; it’s like white noise. The shows I’m actually watching are: Burn Notice, trying to finally finish Lucifer (the second half of season 6), and I’m going to try to get to Lucky Hank either today or tomorrow, despite my having a severe issue with large beards due to traumatic childhood parent issues. I honestly can’t decide if it’s a good thing that Bob has such a terrible beard in this show or not 😭 Like the fact that he’s playing an English professor might have been too indulgent for me without the off-putting facial hair lol.
Currently reading: Unfortunately I don’t read much for pleasure at the moment. A lot of this has to do with being so behind in my dissertation, which causes me to feel like I shouldn’t/can’t read anything that isn’t research; consequently, I end up just not reading. That said, I have been reading bits of Bob’s book A Load of Hooey, which is hilarious and ridiculous but is also easy to pick up and put down because it has a lot of very short parts. Books closer to my research: Killer Apes, Naked Apes & Just Plain Nasty People: The Misuse and Abuse of Science in Political Discourse by professor emeritus of anthropology at St. Lawrence University Richard J. Perry (a history and critique of biological determinism that is written for a non-academic audience — I highly recommend it) and, a more theory-based text, The Age of Scientific Sexism: How Evolutionary Psychology Promotes Gender Profiling and Fans the Battle of the Sexes by feminist/queer theorist and Distinguished Professor of critical theory and gender/sexuality studies at University of Toronto Mari Ruti (also fantastic albeit a bit dated as it’s from 2015 — Ruti has a very interesting writing style, but this book can be challenging for someone unfamiliar with theory and/or reading heavily academic texts).
Current obsession: I mean all apologies for being interminably repetitious, but Burn Notice (as well as Jeffrey Donovan in Burn Notice because a) he’s an incredible actor and b) he is seriously fucking hot in this role). I’m actually rewatching (yes AGAIN), but mainly because I realized that I hadn’t really been paying attention to seasons 1-2 during the rewatch.
When Better Call Saul ended I wasn’t really ready to invest in a totally new show (except for a couple of shorter ones), because it left me a tad despondent I suppose. I’d watched it from day one, back in 2015, after we’d binged Breaking Bad. So I saw that Burn Notice was streaming and thought “low stakes rewatch” because even though I watched the whole series when it originally aired, it ended back in like 2013 I think, and I’d honestly forgotten how good it is. Despite its flaws, it is such an entertaining and satisfying show. It has an incredibly strong and unique female character, and the way Michael and Fiona’s relationship develops (or re-develops) is fun and frustrating and emotionally rewarding at once. They’re both deeply flawed, deeply traumatized characters who love each other more than they love themselves, and slowly they both grow to realize that they can bring out the good in each other while helping to mitigate the bad. They save other people, that’s the sort of formula of the show beyond the burned spy part, but they also save each other, in more ways than one.
I really love shows that, at their core, turn out to be about something more substantial than what appears on the surface, particularly if that something is love in some form. When a show surreptitiously sneaks in a message about love, that show tends to stick with me so much longer and affect me so much more deeply. Better Call Saul, The X-Files, The Americans (admittedly in a fucked up way), The Glory, Lucifer, Leverage (which reminds me that I still need to watch the new one), or even Bates Motel (or ​Buffy/Angel in some ways) all, to one extent or another, have an underlying narrative of love (not just romantic, although that’s a fave for me), as well as related themes of identity (and what it means — like both what you choose and what others assign to you and how that affects your ability to be a fulfilled human), trauma and the aftermath, and family (both blood and found). These themes are quite overt in some of the shows I mentioned and less so in others, but in my opinion the threads run through them all. However, in Burn Notice they each are incorporated into the story incredibly well, which is a big part of what makes the show so compelling for me.
Okay, essay over!!!!! All apologies 😫 Anyway here’s a photo of a special birdie friend on my mantle (the spots are blacked out for privacy bc they are photos of my nephews) ❤️
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I’m not going to tag nine people but I am tagging @veyzus @yellowginghamdream @tahiri-veyla @darkskywishes (though I haven’t seen them in a while so I hope all is well) and @nissameta1782 (I always feel weird tagging unless I know someone pretty well, which is weird bc I love being tagged by people I’ve never talked to before lol . . . go figure). Please don’t feel pressured!!! Ignore if you want ❤️
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magentagalaxies · 9 months
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giggling and kicking my feet while i'm lying on my bed like a cliche teenage girl bc bruce's assistant just sent me high-quality recordings of both shows where bruce announced the buddy cole documentary at the rivoli
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ffrrooggss · 2 years
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 #1 Killer
October has started which means my creepypasta phase from when I was like 12 has come back full force lol
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The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.
Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.
It is not in English.
Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.
...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.
So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.
I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.
Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.
And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.
I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.
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