#half the reason this took so long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbo-ohno · 5 months

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loneliness and fallen woman with price please! happy 1000 followers ❤️

1k game here - no more please!

alright anon. i gotta be real with you, i barely used the prompts you gave and for that i really am sorry. i wrote like 1k of this about three different times because they kept just not being quite right, and they got increasingly further and further from the prompts. sorry!

2.6k of reader x local crime kingpin price. no smut! (the background plot and "worldbuilding" here is really weak, but just ignore it lol)

You know you’re doing something stupid, but that seems to be all you’re capable of these days. The last few weeks have been nothing but stipid decision after stupid decision, your absolute stupidest decision leading you to this exact moment.

You should’ve never slept with John Price. You should’ve known, should’ve recognized his face, but you’d been a little tipsy and a little desperate, and hadn’t connected the very common name John with the very well known criminal John Price.

No, that had come the next morning, when you’d woken up before him and been able to really take a look at him, completely sober. Him and the gun in its holster resting on his folded pile of clothes.

You should’ve recognized him long before then, and you should’ve turned tail and run. You shouldn’t have let him buy you a drink, you shouldn’t have let him coax you into dumping all your troubles onto him, and you certainly shouldn’t have slept with him.

You’d left before he could wake up and say God knows what, fear pumping through your veins at the realization of who you’d slept with. You’d nearly knocked yourself out trying to get dressed, almost fallen on top of him before you managed to stumble out of the hotel room he’d bought for you.

Everyone knows John Price. No one ever really bothers to detail why he’s dangerous, but they all seem confident he is. You’re a recent transfer to the area, and you still haven’t been able to get anyone to really say why they always whisper when they say his name.

What you do know about him is that every few weeks, almost routinely, you hear that he’s been arrested. Then two or three days later, like clockwork, it’s announced that he’s escaped, always thought to be “armed and dangerous”. His mugshots are shown on TV enough that it’s truly surprising you hadn’t recognized him at the bar.

You always figured you’d never run into him. You don’t exactly lead a life of crime, don’t exaclty put yourself in harm’s way. You work a boring nine to five job, have dinner with friends every couple weeks, occasionally meet up with someone from a dating app, and never really stray from that. Had he not happened to be in the same bar as you, you never would’ve met him, never would’ve slept with him, and never would’ve been hunting him down now, weeks later.

Hell, you might not have even slept with him had you not just been stood up by what was supposed to be a first date on the same day you’d lost out on a promotion. But a few shots, that loneliness that grows more and more familiar every day, a simmering frustration in your career, and a handsome man are not a good combination for your self control.

But you had slept with him, had been especially stupid and not even worn protection - something you’d only really noticed the next morning, when you felt… him still leaking from you, saw that there was no condom wrapper.

And now here you are - stood in that same run down bar you’d first met him in, wearing an old hoodie and your favorite sweatpants, three positive pregnancy tests tucked in your front pocket.

You try to take a deep breath.

You really don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve been running on autopilot since you realized you might be pregnant, the time between buying tests and taking them a blur. Even now, you’re running on instinct alone. Instinct tells you to find John Price, and tell him about… this.

You can figure everything else out after.

You scan the crowd, hoping to spot him quickly. You know he owns the bar - something you’d found out once you’d gotten home and fallen deep into a rabbit hole and read everything about the man you could find. You’re not sure how he still owns the bar considering he’s got multiple warrants out for his arrest, but you figure it’s probably the same reason he never actually ends up in jail.

But he’s not here now. At least, not anywhere you can see.

You step up to the bar, rest your elbows on the counter and rest your head in your hands, taking a few long, stablizing breaths.

“What can I get for ye?”

You glance up at the sudden voice, coming face to face with the bartender. It’s not the same man as last time - this man’s got a Scottish accent and a mohawk, a far cry from the darker skinned British man with pretty eyes who’d served you last time.

“Do you…” you glance around again, sigh, and decide you should try and find somewhere to compose yourself a bit. “Do you guys have a bathroom I could use?”

“Course,” he smiles at you, open and friendly, and you feel some of the tension ease from your shoulders. “Just ‘round that corner there, a few doors down. Can’t miss it.”

You give him a tight smile, mutter your thanks as you head in the direction he’d gestured. His directions are exactly right, the women’s bathroom door towards the end of the hallway but clearly marked.

Just past the bathroom doors is a stairwell. The door is half open, but you can clearly see the stairs even halfway down the hallway. You’re not sure why, but you walk right past the bathrooms, ducking into the stairwell instead after shooting a quick look over your shoulder to make sure no one saw you.

It’s nearly silent, the music from the bar growing more and more muffled as you start to make your way to the next floor. It’s even quieter once you reach your destination, just a distant and faint rumbling in the floorboards.

You step out into a hallway with four doors - two of them with nameplates nailed to them. Stepping close, you see one is labeled Simon Riley and the other reads John Price.

Before you can consider whether or not you’re making another stupid decision you’re knocking on the door with Price’s name.

You regret it the moment your knuckles rap against the wood, can’t believe you keep doing such stupid things without thinking.

Before you can even get a step away from the door, there’s a voice calling out from inside the room.

“Come in.”

Your breath hitches.

You can’t leave now. There’s no way he wouldn’t come to the door, see who knocked. You’re not about to ding dong ditch John Price, but that doesn’t make it any easier to move forward. You only manage it because you feel oddly exposed in the hallway, and your nerves urge you forward enough to open the door.

You shut it quickly behind you, eager for privacy for some reason you can’t quite pin down. Listening to your instincts regardless, you keep your back pressed to the closed door and shove one hand in your pocket to wrap around the pregnancy tests.

John looks… mostly the same, which only makes you feel even more foolish for not recognizing him on the night that started this whole mess.

His beard’s a bit longer, but he’s got a button up and that silly hat on, the same thing he’d been wearing the first night you saw him. It’s almost like you’re yanked back to that night without warning, the only real difference being the fact that he’s sat behind a desk instead of beside you.

“Oh,” he says, looking oddly unsurprised as he leans back in his chair, hands lacing over his stomach. “It’s you. My little runaway.”

You scowl, your trepidation immediately replaced with anger.

“First of all,” you hiss, scowling and moving towards his desk, the twitch at the corner of his lips only working you up further. “I’m not your anything. And I didn’t run away.”

His lips curve into a fuller smile, and he shifts his chair back enough for you to see his thighs, thick and bulging against his tight pants. He’s manspreading in his own office chair, and you have to swallow thickly when you realize just how attractive it is.

When you glance back to his face and see the distinctly smug expression he’s wearing, your ire only grows.

“Not sure what else you’d call it,” he rumbles. “Was hoping to spend a little more time with you, love, but you were gone before we could set up a date.”

You instinctively go to bite back, but stumble a bit when what he’d said settles. The idea that he’d been disappointed when he woke up alone, that he wanted more time with you…

You shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter, you have more important things to discuss.

You force yourself to straighten, fingers toying with the tests in your pocket. Your nerves return now that you’re really face to face with John again, now that you’ve got to actually figure out how to tell him.

He seems to sense the shift in your mood, leaning forward so he’s not sprawled out so casually and resting his forearms on his desk.

“Why’re you here, love?”

This is it, you think to yourself, closing your eyes to take a deep, stablizing breath.

You tug the pregnancy tests out of your pocket, drop them wordlessly in front of him. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, to watch his expression as he slowly looks down at your offering, watch as realization washes over him.

John’s silent for a long moment. Your palms sweat, and you just barely resist the urge to wipe them off on your pants.

Finally, he looks back up at you, shifting in his chair. “You’re sure?”

You hesitate, nod a bit. “There are… I took more, at home. Didn’t want to bring them all.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “And it’s mine?”

You flush, face going hot. You know it’s a fair question, but you can’t help but bristle anyway.

“Yes,” you hiss, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I haven’t… I didn’t…” You cut yourself off, the words you were my first trapping themselves behind your teeth. You hadn’t meant to lose your virginity to John Price, and you see no need to tell him you even had. As far as you’re concerned, you can keep that knowledge to yourself. “It’s yours.”

He doesn’t look convinced, and that only makes your face go hotter. You fight the urge to tuck your hands beneath your armpits, determined not to shrink in front of this man.

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” you elaborate, eyes flicking away from his face.

He takes a deep breath, exhales in a loud sigh. You hear his fingers tap against the desk, just barely bite back your annoyance at the sound. You work your tongue between your teeth, nerves racing again.

“Well,” he eventually says, standing from his chair. You can’t help but jolt a bit, having forgotten just how big he is. He towers over you even from a few feet away, his broad shoulders and barrel chest only making him feel twice as large. It’s a conscious effort on your part not to take a step back. “I hope you weren’t too attached to your apartment, love.”

He stalks around the desk, walking towards the door, but you can��t move from your spot. Your eyebrows furrow, and you track him with your eyes.

“My apartment? What’re you talking about?”

He shoots you a look, one you have no idea how to interpret, as he tugs his door open. “Simon!”

“John,” you hiss, stepping closer to him again. “What’re you-?”

He holds a hand up to quiet you as the other door opens, and you can just barely spot another man stepping forward. “Yeah?”

“Need you to call some movers. Need to get my girl moved into my place.”

You gape like a fish as the new man leans to the side a bit to look where Price is gesturing to you, and he nods. “Got it. Timeline?”

“Done by tonight.”

The other man grunts, and leaves again. John closes the door, turning back to you and starting back to his desk.

“What- what the hell?” You splutter, mouth opening and closing in shock. “You can’t- you don’t even know where I live!”

John settles back into his chair and shoots you a look that you can clearly read - it’s nothing but unimpressed.

“Course I do, love. Did you think we wouldn’t be meeting again?”

You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he turns to his computer, lips twitching into a smile.

“Of course we wouldn’t,” you try, hand resting on one of the chairs in front of the desk to steady yourself. “We only… we only slept together once. I didn’t even know who you were.”

He hums an agreement, typing. “No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t matter, you know now. And considering the other… developments,” he shoots a look to your belly, and you rest your free hand over the small curve protectively. “It’s best we get to know each other in far closer quarters, hm?”

“No,” you argue, trying to inject some sterness into your tone. “I’m not moving in with you, that’s ridiculous. I just… I only told you about the baby so you could be involved. Maybe pay some child support. But there’s no reason for anything more.”

He sighs heavily through his nose, giving you another of those unimpressed looks. “You’re tellin’ me you’d rather keep living on your own? Take care of yourself and my baby all on your own?”

You brows furrow. “My baby.”

“Our baby.”

“Whatever,” you huff, moving to sit in one of the chairs, slumping back. “I can’t move in with you. Just because we… slept together, once, doesn’t mean you can just boss me around like a minon.”

“Oh, it was more than once, love,” he corrects, voice pitching lower. You force down a shiver, cheeks heating again. “And is it really bossing you around if it’s for the best?”

You shoot him your own unimpressed look. “Yes, of course it is.”

He shrugs, turning back to his computer. “Then I guess I am bossing you around. Regardless, Simon will have your belongings in one of my properties by tonight.”

You scowl, leaning forward enough to plant a hand on his desk. “Listen, John, I have a life. A perfectly nice apartment, a job I like, friends - you can’t just take me away from all of that just because we made a mistake!”

The quick glance he shoots you verges on scolding. “That’s exactly what I can do, and it’s exactly what I will do.”

He stands before you can reply, fixing his cuffs as he strides back to the office door.

“You can call your boss tomorrow to turn in your resignation,” he says over his shoulder, tugging the door open and already walking away, winking at you just before he disappears from your sight. “You won’t be working while carrying our baby.”

You gape at the spot where he just was, palms still slick with sweat. It takes you a moment to fully grasp what he’s just said, how the entire conversation has gone, but when you do you’re enraged.

“John!” You shout, storming after him, leaving the pregnancy tests behind. “Get back here, you insane man! That’s absolutely not happening!”

The sound of his low laugh echoing through the stairwell only pisses you off more. Your scowl feels etched into your face, and as you storm after John you vow to keep him from completely steam rolling your life.

If he thinks he’s going to just pluck you from your life and drop you in his with no fight, he’s got another thing coming.

#i just googled “fallen woman” btw so i really hope i got the meaning right lmfao #and then i just kinda like. half ignored it. work with me anon 🙏#price x reader #john price x reader #john price #cod #call of duty #1k celebration #bo writes #bet you thought i forgot about these #WRONG!!!!!!#btw i fucking WRESTLED with this one like omg it took me so fucking long for no reason! and it's not even that good! ugh!

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sailing-through-hawkins · 7 months

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✧ dedicated to that one anon that made me feel so happy about the siren kas au again!! also thank you mea for beta-reading this for me you are a lifesaver!! going to tag @xenon-demon and @chaoticlovingdreamer because i know you both were interested in this idea hope it's cool to tag you!! ✧

The first time it happens, it's not a big deal.

They were on their way to start a supply run, some small groceries, snacks and sweets, to try and keep the mood up.

He had already done his rounds, checked in on El (still exhausted) and Dustin (still sleeping with his head on his mom's lap; she's still wiping her tears away when Steve sees her) and the Byers (still huddled together, warm, loving). He felt a twinge in his chest at the absence of Lucas and Erica but he knows they're with their parents because they did a check-in literally ten minutes ago. They're safe.

Steve knows they're safe. He just wishes they felt safe.

A whole month of fear and caution but this time, instead of a couple of kids sharing glances across town, nodding and walking on, it's everyone in Hawkins, gawking up at the dark clouds without any idea of what's been happening under their noses for years.

He wishes they never had to find out.

"Hey," Robin says, grasping his hand as she steps out onto the doorstep next to him. "We got this, right?"

"Yeah," Steve grips her hand back, stroking his thumb over the ink doodles across her knuckles. Sometimes he thinks the only reason they'll make it is that he's got her by his side. "We got this."

She smiles a thin, watery smile, lifts up her mask and makes her way to the car. He inhales, covers his nose with the black bandana Dustin gave him and follows behind her, gripping at the cold, empty space in his palm.

The forest was always one of the worst parts of living in this house, but the darkness has turned it ashy and cold, like something out of a zombie movie. He wonders, as he stares through the trees, if Barb got to see the forest before she was pulled through.

That's when he hears the music.

An echo of a guitar strumming. It's faint, the sound warbling as the guitar gets tuned and re-tuned every few strums.

It's so quiet, he thinks, so why does it sound so close?

"Steve?" Robin calls out, her eyes as wide and beautiful and terrified as ever under her goggles. She stands next to his car, one hand tapping the hood nervously. "You ready?"

Steve blinks and shakes his head, the echo of the guitar fading away as he twirls his keys around his finger. "Ready."

Probably just someone playing around on the radio or something, he reasons as he starts the engine.

No big deal.

Two days later and everyone is in the living room.

Everyone meaning literally everyone, even fucking Mrs Wheeler, all to discuss shelter for the families who lost their houses in the earthquake.

Steve's house is already full of most of the Party (Dustin insisted they use the name for the entire Upside-Down-Expert-Team), otherwise he'd offer it as a place for people to stay in until they can get something more permanent.

That's all this place is good for anyways. Just a rest stop.

"I appreciate that, Mom." Nancy taps her finger on the dining table, eyes squinting and lips squeezed into a very fake smile. Steve winces and starts to make his way to the sun room, gripping the blankets in his arms tightly as she continues. "But some of these people need -"

It's pretty easy to tune the discussion out, focusing on laying out the blankets and making as much of the space as comfortable as possible. The big windows let so much sunlight in, it's perfect for anyone who wants to soak up in the warmth. The only problem is the view.

He pointedly doesn't look at the pool, hands on his hips as he surveys the room, and that's when he starts to hear the guitar again. The strumming starts up quietly and washes over him, re-tuning itself every time he starts to rearrange the blankets again. A few minutes of tuning and it starts to play a song this time.

Steve tilts his head, staring out at the pool. Someone must have switched on the lights when it started getting dark.

When did it get so dark? He should go back and check on everyone, make sure they're comfortable. Is there enough space? Maybe he should redo the blankets?

The song soaks the back of his neck.

The blankets are perfect. He and Robin just can share.

It's so familiar, he thinks, as the water ripples with the wind. Something he's heard, but not listened to.

There shouldn't be any water in the pool. Why is there -

The song is slow, coiling behind his ear and gently drifting down his shoulders, making him shiver. He thinks he should know the music, humming along to it as the guitar starts to get louder. It feels nice, a comforting chill down his back that eases the tension of his wounds.

His wounds. Robin. Robin, his bat bites still hurt, why does it hurt so much, what's -

Oh, he thinks as the music plays even louder in his ear, in his mind, that's not the radio.

"Steve!"

Robin is crying, hands crushing his jaw, her face blocking the view of the empty pool. The music is gone.

"Steve, please!"

"Rob?" he croaks, swallowing the dryness of his tongue. His head feels flooded with a fuzziness, blood rushing through his veins like it was moving too slowly before. He blinks when he realizes they're outside now, standing between the pool and the house. It's still daylight. "What -?"

She pulls him into a hug, and he struggles, but manages to wrap his own arms around her, if kinda slowly. "You just - you weren't saying anything and started walking to the pool and I couldn't stop you -"

"Steve," Nancy says somewhere to his left. He barely manages to lift his head to look at her, blue eyes sharp and a Walkman held tightly in her hand. "What did you see?"

The fuzziness is fading away but his brain is still moving through a fog to connect words together. "I heard music."

Robin's face is in front of his again, eyes wide and beautiful and terrified. Oh, Robbie. "Vecna uses music now?"

"Not Vecna." Steve wrinkles his nose. "It...wasn't Vecna."

"How do you know that?" Nancy squints at him and he rests his forehead against Robin's, his bones melting into stone, too heavy to hold up. He hears the creak of the Walkman, Nancy gripping it tighter. "Steve, how do you know it's not Vecna?"

"Music w's nice." His eyes are closing. "Felt nice."

After that, the plan was never leave Steve alone.

It made bathroom breaks awkward but Argyle was so chill about it that Steve didn't even mind after the first two trips.

El couldn't find anything Upside-Downy on him, and there was the entire town with Upside-Downy shit happening everywhere, so there wasn't really much more to the plan than him having a bodyguard.

They made a chart for their shifts. God, he loves these shitheads.

"Here, man," Argyle says quietly, handing over three slices of pizza with a wink. Steve thanks him with a real, if exhausted, smile. Sleep hasn't been easy for the past week. "Fresh outta the oven."

"You're a godsend, dude," Steve groans, blowing air on the pizza slice. Mike grumbles under his breath about "hair-bias", whatever the fuck that means. Erica just rolls her eyes and shoves at his head.

The Sinclairs are visiting today, the parents persuaded by Lucas and Erica's whining (and a little bit of Steve's charm) so they can spend more time at "home base" with the others.

They're sat in the living room, eating lunch as rays of sunlight shine on the food like some kind of holy blessing, with the rest of the Party.

The rest of the survivors would be more accurate.

He tries not thinking about it, tries to appreciate the warm cheese and loud laughter. There's too much to not think about. How Max isn't here, how she deserves more, how he wants to see her okay and alive and happy.

Eddie isn't here either, and he doesn't think about how much he deserved better too.

"Steve thought it was cool! Right, Steve?"

He wishes Eddie could have made it, that Dustin didn't have to lose him like that.

Hell, they could have been friends. Maybe buried the hatchet so they could make fun of Dustin together, catch each other's eye whenever the tone makes an appearance and just laugh whenever he wasn't looking.

"I said, right, Steve?"

Maybe they could have hung out. Steve would come over to his trailer - or maybe Eddie would come over for a swim - and he'd make fun of Eddie's taste in bands - or maybe he'd listen to him play his guitar, never looking away from those ringed fingers as they created wonderful, wonderful music.

"Dude?"

Oh shit, the music is back. That's probably not good, is it?

But it's so sweet. So calming and cool, like a balm against his torn skin, washing over the dark feelings that built up in his ribcage.

"Steve!"

The song ripples through his veins and he sighs at the feeling. The pool doesn't have water anymore, he thinks. He emptied it so long ago. The music is sad, and his heart clenches at the sound.

The lake has water, he thinks. And the song turns light, sweet, calling him, curling around him, pulling him towards -

"Sorry about this, dude."

"Fuck!" Steve gasps when he hits the ground, groaning as his back ache returns at full force. "What the fuck, man?"

To his credit, Argyle looks genuinely sorry and helps him back onto his feet, holding Steve up with a tight arm around his waist and a tighter grip on his wrist. His shoulder aches at being thrown over Argyle's neck but walking is a lot easier when someone else is carrying half the weight.

He feels so heavy now.

"What - happened?" Steve croaks as they hobble back to the house. When did he leave it?

"You just got up and you weren't -" Dustin swallows, his voice croaky like he'd been yelling. "It's like you weren't even there."

"God, you can't keep doing this, Steve," Robin smacks his shoulder with a tight smile, tears still unshed in her eyes. His chest aches at them. "How many times are you gonna walk out on me?"

"Sorry Robbie," he says and accepts her very tight ow, ow, ow hug with a sad laugh. "I don't know what's going on."

"Was it the music again?" Will asks quietly.

Steve looks at him, leaning his head against Robin's. When did he get so tall? When did they all grow up already? "Yeah," Steve replies, just as quiet. He swallows when Robin lets out a sob into his shoulder. "It was the same song."

By the time his brain is fully functional ("Debatable," Mike sneers, crying out when El smacks him up the head), everyone's already discussing the new plan.

"We'll need to make notes, figure out the pattern, see if there're any triggers for Steve." Nancy said and he tries not to let it get to him, the fact that he needs babysitting now, that he can't do anything without being watched. "If the music makes people feel...good, it could still be a whole new tactic. Maybe Vecna wants our guard down, maybe he's countering our favourite songs, maybe it's a distraction. We have to be ready."

Steve still wants to grumble that it could never be Vecna, that's insulting, but he's too tired to argue about anything anymore.

They've even rearranged who sleeps where so that the Sinclairs can sleep over. They take one of the guest rooms while Mrs Henderson and Dustin join Steve in his own room. He almost loses his mind cackling when the both of them eye his wallpaper with the same mix of disgust and fascination. When Mrs Henderson sees the curtains, she almost gags and it's the loudest he's laughed in a long time.

"You're gonna be okay," Dustin tells him right before they fall asleep. Steve looks up at him from the floor where he lays, couch pillows doing more for his back than training against monsters ever did. "You'll be fine."

"'Course I will, dude," Steve smiles at him as Mrs Henderson leaves the room to talk to Hopper one last time. Tews is curled up on the bed, purrs loud, almost melodic, and lulling Steve's thoughts into a calm. "If the giant flesh monster couldn't get us, no way some wrinkly old naked guy will."

Dustin laughs outrageously at that and Steve wants to coo, wants to cry, wants to grip Dustin tightly in his arms and hide him away from the world, hide them all away in this empty house and make it full, make it safe for them, for Max, for Robin.

He doesn't.

He eventually falls asleep to the sound of Dustin muttering under his breath. And when Steve sleeps, he dreams.

It's so cold around him, so dark and empty. The sky thunders red and the cries of so many monsters echo around him. But there, through the cold and the shadows and the monsters, there's the song, calling to him.

I'm here, he thinks as he trudges his way through the inky mass of thick liquid, not water, not blood, but enough of both to make his steps heavy. I'm coming.

The song curls up on his skin, on his bat bites, soft and sweet and cold, like that time Robin spilled ice cream all over the -

"Steve!"

Robin. Where's - where's Robin?

Shh, it's okay. She's fine. Everyone's fine. Keep going.

Oh, he thinks. Of course. Everyone's okay, he knows they are, right?

Steve pauses his next step.

Right?

The song is even lonelier now and he shakes off the questions clouding his mind. It croons to him, so happy as he makes it through the ink to the shore. It sounds so sweet, that's it, keep going, come on.

He's crawling at this point, body heavy with the weight, until the song lifts him up onto his knees and he looks up to see -

"Snap out of it!"

Steve gasps at the sting on his cheek, blinking when light hits his eyes fiercely, shapes and sounds moving around him from a distance. There's a buzzing coiling behind his ears.

"Steve?"

Dustin's terrified face finally comes into focus behind his mother, who is standing right in front of Steve with her arm stretched across the space between them. Steve blinks, "Hold on, did you just slap me?"

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Mrs Henderson says and just like Argyle, she seems to really mean it. Does she? Her outstretched hand rests on his forehead as the other grips his upper arm. His back aches. His torso burns. Where did the song go? "We were so scared, you weren't saying anything -"

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Would never, of course not, just needed to keep going.

They both deny it vehemently. "Of course not! You were just - staring. Out the window. At -"

"At the pool," Steve hisses, biting his lip.

"Yeah," Dustin breathes out, his eyes watering as he reaches out to grab Steve's wrist. "But you're - you're back now. We just - just need to slap you out of it. What's another concussion, right?"

Steve laughs because Dustin's voice is so choked up that if he doesn't laugh, he'll cry. He ruffles the curls of his hair with a smile. A sinking feeling claws at him from the inside of his stomach. Can't he listen to the song one more time?

"Steve?"

"Yeah, I'm here, I'm -" Steve swallows as the blood in his veins prickles. Won't you hear me one more time? "I - I don't want to listen. I won't."

"Can you still hear it?!"

Please? It would make us so happy, Steve.

"I - no, no, I -"

"Steve?! Guys! Code red, code red, please!"

Please, Steve. Please?

"Okay," he says, eyes drooping as the melody curls up around his waist, brushing against the inside of his skin, pooling around his chest, thrumming in time with his heart beat. It feels so sweet, so good, thank you, come here, come here. "Okay."

"El, do something, please!"

The song turns harsh, gnawing on his bones, piercing through his skull, pushing him to the ground as someone is interrupting, no interruptions, leave us alone, alone, alone. The pain builds up crawling and clawing up to his chest to his shoulders to his head, his head, it hurts, it hurts so much, please stop, just stop. "Fuck, fuck -"

"Steve?" Dustin whimpers and he aches, he aches, he aches.

He screams.

When he wakes up, it's to dawn creeping through the windows and rope around his body.

Red sunlight, just like in Mike's Superman comic books, covered by dark clouds.

A red sun to the blue moon. Right side up to the upside down. You to me.

"Whe -" Steve croaks, his eyes creaking open. Fuck, they're so crusty, that's gross. "Where?"

"Steve!"

Robin's face in front of his, beautiful and terrified. He squints up at her, glancing over to find Dustin and Lucas staring at him with wide eyes, Hopper behind them. They watch him and they nod. Others are coming in, Mrs Byers and Jonathan and Nancy -

Steve hisses as something claws through him for the fourth time that night, pain, pain, go away, go away -

"Shit, shit, shit, everyone get in position, -"

"Will, get over here, he's gonna -"

Come here, come on, please? Won't you come back?

"Where are you?" Steve murmurs as the pain turns into the music, gliding over him, like a wave coming to shore, pulling him back to the water, back to us.

"He's talking to the siren! Somebody get -"

Come here, come back, come to me.

"Can't find you," he says, slurring his words as the song combs through his hair, like fingers scratching against his scalp. "Where're you?"

"That's it, Steve, keep talking, we got you -"

Want you here, with us, want us together, don't you?

"Yeah, yes, together," he sighs, the melody trilling in his chest, happy, sweet, soft, perfect, it'll be perfect, together, all together, just before someone reaches for his hand

He hisses and the song pulls away roughly, leaving him floating in the void, he cries out for it to come back, but he betrayed them, shouldn't have done that, Stevie, you tried to trick us -

"Shit!" Steve drops back to the bed with lead in his bones. El is still holding his hand. He was so close, the connection just barely at his fingertips.

Dustin swears as the others start to argue. The frustration is building up in the room, everyone too tense to think about answers, you sly dog, that was clever, but we don't like traitors -

"Wait, no," Steve gasps as something claws in his wounds, amused, you tried to trick me? Fine, no more playing around. "Fuck, wait -"

And the song crashes into the shore, pulls him down under where everything is sweet and cold, right back where you belong.

It's so warm out here, between the trees.

The skin on his back was blistering, biting at his flesh, before the song had gently cooled it down. He shivers at the chill, smiling when the song pulls him forward, looping around him with a sweet hum. It feels so nice, to hear the song without any distractions.

Without any interruptions.

Keep going.

Steve sighs when the song runs through his hair, laughing when it musses it all up. His hand twitches, he wants to fix it up until it's perfect again.

Keep going.

There are noises behind him, the sound of running and metal-on-flesh. It's all so slow, even slower than him. He doesn't know what's behind him, just the dark and gentle song pulling at his veins.

Keep going.

He makes it to the water, to the lake. There is no moonlight, but the song guides his steps, keeps him light. How sweet, he thinks, how sweet of you.

He makes it until his waist is plunged in the frigid water and then the song stops. He looks around but can't see anything in the shadows. There are sounds of humans yelling, of monstrous shrieks behind him, but where is the song?

"Hey."

He looks up and sees crimson eyes, half-lidded, and a smile staring down at him. Massive black wings blow gusts of wind at him. He shivers, and gives a smile in return.

His song.

The wings slow down until big, red eyes are level with his own, curls of black falling with gravity to brush against his cheek. The song hums in his chest, satisfied, delighted and sweet.

"Miss me, big boy?"

#steve harrington #steddie #writing #au content: kas!eddie #ficlet #sailing✧siren!kas #sailor✧writes #i fucking did it guys are you proud of me #i ended up adding a whole 1k because i wanted to smooth it out before posting so thank you kindly to the anon who asked me about this #i appreciate you so much and i hope you see this #can you believe half the reason this took me so long was because i wanted to make a new divider specifically for this

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slavhew · 3 months

Text

28/01/2024

stars don't twinkle moon doesn't shine

big thanks to @nahrgles for finishing this for me after i hit a wall with colors bg and effects- chromatic aberration blew my fkn mind

pre edit transparent version under cut because i spent too much time cleaning it loll

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #sonic adventure 2 #sa2 #admin draws #fanart #not intended as ship theyre kinda just There but like if ya wanna tag it i aint stopping you #never played sa2 myself but ive been insane about these two for saur long now and thats like half the reason i even finished this #finished sonic generations though and i replayed this fight like three times omgfgghgh its so fun. i love them so much #those who follow my main blog mightve seen the piece by a long deactivated artist that inspired this #queue spat it out just around the time i finished this #sitting down to complete a piece that i dont finish in one sitting is rare let alone 2 (it took 3) and im pretty happy with it #still not ttoooottally happy but you just gotta let mistakes be and not ruin ur perception of a thing thats on the whole. pretty good #ive still got a bg3 wip in the works but i might have to doodle these 2 for sanity rather than sitting down after a long day #of studying infectious diseases for a final. and then making myself work on something ive wrung of most of its initial creative dopamine #MORNING EDIT WOW. THAT TRAILER HUH. 20 YEARS OF SHADOW RETROSPECTIVE HOW WE FEELING.#BC I KNOW IM ON CLOUD NINE NOW

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scarletevening · 4 months

Note

👋hii

For the Christmas request:

Satoru

Prompt: hey look it's snowing

My idea??: walking through the Christmas market with gojo backhugging reader *lip bite emoji*

With a cold, introverted reader pls!

Thanku

ⓑⓔⓐⓤⓣⓨ [ 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 ]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓; ❞ Look! Look! it's snowing!"

cw: none, fluff, mutual pining, cold, introverted, gn! reader.

Even with mitten on your hands, the cold air was not any kinder to your fingertips.

The two of you walked together, hands stuffed in your pockets, worshiping the shiny craftsman ship of Christmas ornaments, cards, wrapping, trinkets, gifts, all littered around you like stars.

Of course, climate isn't something too avoidable, so as you and your company walked, Gojo having more of a strut, the cold air picked up, and the sun hid behind the clouds.

"You know what this means!"

His voice rang in your ear as a joyful bell, pulling the corners of your lips into a subtle smile.

"Yes, Gojo, yes I-"

"Look! Look! It's snowing!!"

And it indeed was. Soft, plush, minuscule flakes descending from the dreary sky. Habitually, maybe instinctually, both you raised your hands reached to grasp the snowflakes, knowing they would melt with contact. It was slow, gentle flakes touching and dissolving at every object around you.

His hair was already white, but it glittered like a diamond as each snowflake took hold, the sprinkled rays of sunlight reflecting off of each droplet. His eyes peaking under his cover as he looks toward you, the glimmering ornaments of celebration framing his face like a picture, glowing like the moon among the night.

He was undeniably gorgeous, and you knew that the moment you look into his cerulean eyes you couldn't keep a straight face. So you didn't, you kept your eyes away, blamed the blush on your cheeks on cold air rather than your imagination.

He laughed beside you, collecting the snow in his palms with a grin. Of course, he was him, and he naturally began to try to throw it at you. You gasped, glaring at him with a smile pulling at the corner of your lips, your hand picking up what little snow there was on the floor of Tokyo streets to throw back at him.

You snarl at him as he grins and laughs, dramatically tripping over his feet,

"You merciless monster!"

He cries, bystanders staring at him in confusion and disdain. The eyes intimidate you, he knows, the way you move three steps ahead to seem as though you don't associate with him, reaching the end of the pop-up market.

Even with your feeble, playful attempt at getting him off your tail, you failed.

A man who could never touch, never feel the contact of another casually, without thought, let his barrier go. Wrapped around you, slipping between your arms and tugging around your waist lazily, his rouge-tinted lips brushing your ear,

"You're just so mean."

You froze, probably from being flustered, but you'd like to blame the snow. But you didn't pull away, letting your eyes wander to the snow-covered bricks of the sidewalk. Your breath mingled with his, hot air turning white in the cold air. The end of the market, where the two of you stood, trapped in his arms as he waited for your reply.

To him, it didn't matter what you said, if you protested without movement, if your grumbled and mumbled. All he had to acknowledge was that he held you as snow fell around your bodies, his warmth pressing into your back. He sighed into your scarf once more,

"I know you never mean it when your mean."

You smile, unable to cold the smile that broke past your face as you glanced towards him,

"Don't be so sure, Satoru."

⋆⁺₊❅.···········································································································.❅₊⁺⋆

didn't know how to end it again i need to learn to problem solve. anyways thank you sm for the rq and sorry for taking so long!!!

directory

❅ 🅂🄽🄾🅆 & 🅂🄽🅄🄶🄶🄻🄴🅂 ❅

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yume-fanfare · 3 months

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the prompt for the last day of tetohina week was au, so i thought it was the perfect chance to finally finish this idea i've had in mind for a few months already: phantom thieves! + tetora who is more like a vigilante sldkjmlsks

#tetohina #tetora nagumo #hinata aoi #enstars #ensemble stars #see ok half the reason why this took so long #is because while it fits ryuseitai's hero of justice theme #in a non idol au tetora would still follow kuro and kuro would Never be a cop #so i had to let it stew for a while and i think vigilante of sorts Fits you know #still i wrote this ages ago but im still quite sure this is actually beach match dialogue btw #art tag

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crossbackpoke-check · 11 months

Text

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two

#me when everybody is posting the maple leafs sad narratives and i am furiously generating this like HOLD ONNNN HOLD ONNNNNNN #honestly i could've been SOOOO MEAN about this because i saw this poem & alexandra got the preview on the poetry blog #where i just reblogged the first half of this poem point blank with the tags #kyle dubas #toronto maple leafs #& got yelled at aksdaksf & it literally only didn't go on this blog bc i usually write more & then it was percolating & i looked up the poe #& it was only the FIRST PART i'd reblogged i didn't know there was more & then brain immediately went brrrrr ok time for an edit.#this is a long one lol & i also have no idea if it makes sense to anybody but me but because y'all know me i will always overexplain so!!#my reasoning for the reasons obvi kyle. that's a given i hope he's doing well i hope he & his family r good but man is not coming in to wor #the second edit took me a stupid amount of time bc i am nitpicky but also i learned how to do the layers & transparency from the claude edi #that actually y'all don't know about lmao but i lost my mind when i saw how perfectly those pictures align i was scrolling getty & was like #ok december i'm gonna do a headline one (in my brain with the november/june quote about choosing to die again) w/ maple leafs playoff odds #how they say at winter break you know who's gonna be in the playoffs & who'll win & they thought they had a shot but it's mitchie overlaid #the 2003-04 team who'd last won a playoff round with the atlantic division stats from dec for 22-23 & how long it's been & dec headlines #i wanted breakup/recent/never loved to be a recent trade acquisition somebody who bounced around & somebody else so i almost had simmer #brodie & zar but then i wanted to make murray for breakup at any time &i forgot zar & him were on the pens together &it hit me like a truc #bc there's a photo of the two of them EXACTLY the same so close it's scary of this one but them as pens so they had to be it & i did always #know never loved again was mitchie. sorry. also mitchie in the penalty box the last game but i couldn't find footage of it & this one works #no i could not find a photo of tyler bertuzzi fighting a leaf for a dog looked at me yes i tried.#i almost made the bunting photo jt but instead it's 'bunting a rat etc' anyway the one i really feel unhinged about is dead pets bc at firs #i was gonna make it the handshake line & look to see if the leafs had drafted anybody on the panthers (dead pet former draft pick)#& they had & it was carter verhaeghe & i couldn't get a good pic of matthews & verhaeghe but it's fine bc i thought about the mo/luke schen #narrative (in which they are a perfect d pair long lost) & schenn was drafted by the leafs & that line fits jut trust me. also how i feel #about the kniesy luminous line that one possessed me it had to be kniesy idk why. i almost put gussy as girls are too pretty though ALSO #did u like my joke. daylight SAVINGS time on the goalie. thank u. also my photo magic on the jt (me very poorly editing in him as an isle)#OK ALSO HOLD ONNNNN there is a part two but i have to wait for the Content i want it will come out as soon as [redacted] or sooner #if i get bad at waiting &everyone will pretend like it is always the way it will be once i have the photos i want. speaking of did the leaf #simply not take a team photo this year?? it Does Not Exist for me i have tried very hard to look for it also i'm excited for part 2 #one of them is named oh you're so unhinged for this one & the finished product is you're unhinged in ways you didn't even know u were sorry #liv in the replies

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natreads · 4 months

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2020, 2021, 2022, 2023 🎄

#nat talks #my face #happy holidays from us xx #aka sweden celebrates on the 24th for some reason #me #edit: is it just me or can you tell how physically and mentally AWFUL I felt in 2020 from the pic #obviously it wasn't a normal christmas anyway so I wasn't dolled up or anything #but like #idk I just remember how bad I felt #I'd gotten c*vid a month before and it took me a year and a half to recover #was losing so much hair too #edit 2: I never had long c*vid so with recover I mean I just didn't have energy and was just not doing very well #but it wasn't life threatening or anything #don't wanna pretend as if I had it super bad when it's worse for others #edit 3: tw for weight talk but I also miss how my face looked in 2021 when I'd lost weight lol anyway

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cyberdragoninfinity · 2 months

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finally FINALLY finished s2 of arc-v. i loved it to bits

#ygo posting #it's a fucking mess but it's so GODDAMN FUN!!! 'IT'S BORING' TO YOU!!! TO ME IT'S A HOOT AND A HALF!!!!#half the reason it took me so long was sergey and roget got me Really Scared #the danabait has only just begun i fear. which is. alarming considering i have like 49 episodes left?!? DAWG THATS NOT A LOT #dana's little ygo funnies

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vinelark · 7 months

Note

23 THOUSAND WORDS 😳😳 (i want you to know that I have notifs on your blog and saw it and DIED in excitement at dnd, and then IMMEDIATELY AFTER three of my friends sent me the same post and they were all like: DID YOU SEE BBTS IS GONNA HAVE A 23K LONG CHAPTER???) you're a blessing. I'm going to die. ❤️

🥰 omg i am flattered that you clearly are a Known BBTS Enjoyer among your pals, and also i love that they’re looking out for your interests like that

23 thousand words!! mostly because i broke from format (two tim POV sections) in order to reach a certain plot point in the scope of this chapter. and also because tim and kon wouldn’t stop Gazing At Each Other.

#half the reason chapter 4 took so long is its word count/amount of plot it covers #and half the reason is i’m in the thick of wedding planning and that took over my brain for a bit #that said because of what chapter 4 covers chapter 5 will probably be quicker and shorter #but we’ll see if i just jinxed myself by saying that 🤘#my fic #asks

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midbyte · 1 year

Photo

You're something special, want you to know you are

Your makers must have kissed in cosmic dust

You're something special, you are the little fang

You keep on grinnin' and this world keeps nagging

#ham art #furry #lancer #halflight #finished em! also will be drawing their mech but almost certainly not be coloring that shit #this took way too long as is lol #anyways. this is halflight. theyre a hacker mechanics and most importantly an artist #they pilot a paracausally fucked up mech called shiver and one day they had an accident while within it #which lead to them only sometimes existing #and turns out if only some parts of you exist at a time you get a ton of medical problems! all at once!#they got shoved into this half mechanical android body which stabilizes whats left of their old flesh #and are now in so much debt they have no choice but to continue piloting shiver and working as a mercenary #*the reason they look like that is bc theyre a furry and chose to modify their own body to look cooler lmao

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spiltsoup · 3 months

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Courtney Thorne-Smith being a trainwreck on Two and a Half Men

#two and a half men #courtney thorne smith #lyndsey mcelroy #gifset #tvedit #tvgifs #televisongifs #my gifs #things i made #actorposting #I support bisexual wrongs #holy fuck this actually took me so long #she's the only reason I watched the later seasons btw #cts is underrated in the comedy department I think

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nazmazh · 6 months

Text

I don't think it's a thing, or at least not as pervasive of a thing as previous iterations of it, but it seems like True Crime Podcasts never really got the full Moral Panic(TM) treatment that other dark/lurid media got in their times.

Like comics were put under the yoke of The CCA, which effectively killed the crime (true or otherwise) genre, because it was believed to be a corrupting force.

Rock music, TTRPGs, and video games got an extra dose of Satanic Influence flavour in their panics, without even necessarily being all that lurid anyway, but especially with HUGE variability in tone and style between works in the same medium - Like KISS and others leaned into the "Ah! We're so strange and scary!" vibe. And several rockers intentionally pushed the boundaries of "acceptable" sexuality and expression for the times, sure. And much of the demonization of rock is rooted in racism because it was developed from African-American music styles (with certain genres, where the influence, and popularity with Black people was more obvious, got hit especially hard because of this). But like, the freaking Beatles were seen as potentially "dangerous" and "unwholesome" (the scandal of it all!) even before they leaned fully into New Age and other general weirdness that I could see as being especially off-putting to the kinds of people that go on these moral crusades.

Violence and any sort of sexual expression/depiction in movies and TV was blamed for corrupting the nation, especially the youth - and to some extent still is. Doubly so for video games.

Computers, the internet, and social media are still seen as direct pipelines of filth into vulnerable minds.

Heck, even Novels were seen as a craze that would drive the women and youths towards inappropriate behaviours, back when they first started being published - Too easy to print and distribute (way more possible for people with ill morals to publish material!), too conviently accessible by anyone - Not needing as careful of handling or storage, and much less likely to get damaged being carried around than previous printing methods; they'd distract from duties and anything could be published in those books, and they'd be easy enough to conceal from disapproving guardians due to how compact they could be

But I can't say that I've really seen much, if any real targeting of True Crime Podcasts with these sorts of accusations in any sort of very visible way. Not even from the usual moral crusader suspects (though I'm sure some of them no doubt are out there railing against the podcasts, because that outrage against everything is what sustains certain kinds of fundamentalists), and certainly not in the mainstream media - The most I think I've seen is a few mild, often self-deprecating, jokes, said with genuine fondness, in a few more trope-savvy works here and there.

And that's despite the presence of many of the crusaders' favourite punching bag traits:

- Lurid subject matter

- Often sensationalized presentation

- New form of media

- Easily consumable by the masses

- Incredibly popular, especially paired with a rapid rise in popularity

- Especially popular among women (who, as we know from previous panics, clearly have such delicate sensibilities and fragile, malleable minds that they absolutely, positively cannot be trusted to make their own decisions about media consumption. CLEARLY.).

I would make a note about it definitely being popular with young women, which it is, sure. But honestly, I'm reasonably certain it's not especially more popular with them than with older audiences. The podcast format specifically may not necessarily be the favourite medium for a older potential audience member, especially compared to a younger potential audience member, but there's plenty of people middle aged and older that happily listen to podcasts. However there is an absolute glut of true crime shows on TV, often marketed towards women. The Investigation Discovery spin-off channel is pretty much all true-crime shows and documentaries (with maybe some Based on a True Story- style dramatizations thrown in for good measure). And even though it's not specifically, explicitly a women-focused channel in the same way, say the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime are, much of their shows formatting and much of the marketing material definitely leans toward targeting and retaining women specifically as an audience. I can remember my grandma contentedly watching the channel all day long. And let's not forget the archetypical "Lifetime Movie" is generally taken to mean a True Crime "It Could Happen to You"-cautionary tale-dramatization.

Heck, even the collection of books inherited by grandma when her mother passed away included a large amount of non-fiction books about "Tracking The Murders of [such-and-such] County" and suchlike. So, no, I don't believe the True Crime fascination is exclusively a young person phenomenon. It's been around in some form for quite a while and maintains its appeal across age demographics.

So, what gives, moral crusaders? Where's your campaigns declaring True Crime Podcasts a danger to society? Where's your press tours? Why don't you have politicians taking the floor in meetings/council/congress/etc., to declare this media to be the scourge of the nation and the latest existential threat to Western Society? Won't SOMEBODY think of the children?!?!

I know we as a society aren't all stuck watching the same news/media sources anymore, and in many ways we're not as beholden to the control/influence of the, often (but not exclusively) Evangelical, Christian institutions that used to really push this stuff as an issue to the forefront of public discourse, but I can't believe that they'd've just completely gone away and stopped trying to force everyone else to adhere to their sense of indignation and live under their moral code.

It's almost as though they're not stirring up as much outrage about this because they found something else they think is a bigger problem and/or stands a better chance of catching on with mainstream audiences.

And... oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Well.

Shit.

I started writing this ramble upstairs, watching TV with my parents. They've been watching that "Based on a True Story" show. And that's what got me thinking about the pop-cultural niche True Crime Podcasts have found themselves in, and reactions to them compared to reactions to other forms of media that have discussed/depicted violent crimes and other controversial subject matter in the past and present (See also: Only Murders in The Building).

This was supposed to be an all-"Haha, isn't it kinda silly how things are?" little quip about how "Outrage ain't want it used to be". From my very privileged white dude point of view. But I think I stumbled into something here. Something that I might not even be the best person to talk about. So I won't go too in-depth on subjects I'm very much out of my depth on, but, I do kinda wanna get to my conclusion.

So uh...

Yeah, okay.

The Moral Crusaders are busy with other topics.

They've found bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

They're out there railing against favourable and even neutral depictions of queerness in media, especially children's media.

They're out there railing against social justice, racial equity, historical rectification, truth and reconciliation.

They're out there railing against science and education and instilling earnest curiosity in people.

Against secularization, diversity, and inclusivity.

Against correction of their own misinformation and indoctrination.

They put it all under one banner these days, and rail against it all as though it were a conspiracy to deliberately supplant them.

They're too busy crusading against "Wokeness" - Their idea of what that means, anyway.

I don't think it's the only reason there's not a big crusade against True Crime Podcasts, as I've said above, Christian morality has reduced official and unofficial influence in so-called Western society than it did in times past. And there's much better access to resources for getting different information and opinions on a subject than the people immediately around you and whatever the handful of news channels and papers you have access to tell you. That is to say, sources that require very little effort on one's own part. It's a heck of a lot easier to google something or check wikipedia than it would have been to have to trek down to the library and ask if they have any books or journals or magazine or... any sort of information about a subject.

And it's not like their boogeyman of "wokeness" isn't anything new for them to crusade against. They've always complained about it in some form or another - Who could forget the outrage against children's media back in the day?:

"Is Bugs Bunny gay?" "Is Spongebob gay?" "Is Tinky-Winky gay?"; "This book discusses subjects that should only be talked about between a mother and her daughter! It's disgusting!"; "I couldn't let my kids watch anything with magic in it - That's the devil's work! That's why I don't trust these mainstream educational programs!"

In terms of more outrageous complaints about children's media.

That's not to mention complaints about other media - Those expressly intended for adults. Or complaints about progressive actions taken in society in-general. Some of these have typically appealed only to the most vocal of cranks - The kind of things complaining about depicting characters who do un-Christian things in works, or that students are being taught proper sexual education or that vaccination is mandatory for entry into institutions like public schools.

But there's plenty of complaints that don't garner immediate pushback from less-extreme conservatives or even so-called moderates: "Why is there so much diversity in casting these days? Why can't they just make their own shows?", "Why are they coming after that comedian for telling edgy jokes?", "Why are they pushing this global warming crap down our throats so much anyway?"

In "wokeness", they've found something that seems to not only unite everything under one banner, but resonate more strongly with some people than the old canards of "liberal" or "politically correct". Sure, there's always been people who have said those with the same contempt and venom that they use for the truly heinous things of the world. But in co-opting "woke" from the original meaning among Black people expressing solidarity with each other and encouraging others to to remain aware of the social and political issues that definitely, almost-always negatively, affected their lives, the moral crusaders have found something that strikes a nerve with a large swath of people who might otherwise have not agreed that several of their bugbears actually needed opposing. Now, there's a single enemy ideology that pervades all culture-war issues. It's all connected, you see. Something you thought was harmless? No! You see, that's just how they're going to infiltrate your mind! Your childrens' minds! Don't give them any ground at all!

Awareness of an issue was and still is basically the mildest thing to ask of someone else. As a call to action, "Stay Woke" is a pretty small request.

The crusaders make it out as though it's a battle-cry, a command - A decree that all aspects of all things must adhere to the most progressive, indeed, transgressive views, opinions and approaches on all subjects. That this is upending the previously established status quo just for the sake of upending it. And that this interpretation is the one adopted by all powerful entities in society - Government (especially including the education system), mainstream media, big businesses, etc. And that these entities have oppressive reasons in mind to force those beliefs on society. And that dissent against this woke "nonsense" is the objective truth in a world gone mad! It's an imperative to preserve your way of life!

And, uh. No.

Whatever world they're living in where that's actually happening is quite different from our reality, of course.

Honestly, though? It doesn't need to start out seeming like a big conspiracy - Even asking for honest awareness, in good faith, might be enough to infuriate non-crusaders. People don't often voluntarily to entertain the notion that things they do, things they've done, and things done in their name by others, that they continue to benefit from, are indeed "bad" actions.

Because that now feels like a personal attack against them. They're bad people for not pushing back against this. They must be considered complicit. How dare you think that of me!?!

And then, then the crusader-types just need to introduce the notion that this consideration being "demanded" of this otherwise passive group is the result of a slippery slope of this entire progressive, questioning mindset. Acknowledging any part of it means accepting all of the crusaders' hyperbolic claims about what that ideology actually means.

Through the magic of "Wokeness", it's all connected - It's all out to get you.

Where does it end? Didn't you see how they treated that one guy? Surely, he's no monster. If they can go after him for something so harmless, what's stopping them from coming after you next, for something that's probably even more innocuous?

Moral crusaders know the value of a good persecution complex.

It's not just asking you to be aware of how your presence in the world affects it. It's targeting you. Right?! That's surely the point of this is to find a guilty party and punish them! They're going to make you take the fall for this and directly suffer the punishment for it! You can't let that happen!

It's not even as explicit of a line of reasoning as this.

But either way, the moral panic is spreading and the crusaders are getting a bunch more people loudly on-board with their crusade.

They're banning books and calling for show cancellations under the whole banner of "woke ideology".

They're getting their press tours. Speaking with friendly talking-heads to puff themselves up, then going on with people unwilling to challenge their claims in the interest of fairness - And even if the commentators do push back, the crusaders will spin it as "the woke mainstream media trying to suppress our beliefs" and use that as a recruiting tool.

They're getting their politicians going on rants in city council meetings. During campaign rallies. In congressional/legislative sessions. In published opinion pieces.

In judicial rulings.

In enacted legislation.

The crusade continues. In many ways, it's as pervasive and successful as it's ever been.

It's not True Crime Podcasts that have been the subject of a moral panic this time around.

They must not be "woke" enough to bother with.

#ramblings and rantings #culture war #social issues #moral panics #long post #(Don't act so shocked - I gave my blog here that 'Assorted Rantings' title for a reason)#(so the occasional ramble/rant is to be expected right?)#Been in a real write-y mood lately for some reason #hopefully this scans reasonably coherently #this took way longer to write out than I thought it was going to #that first half was basically done #I was already to click 'post' and send it out into the world #but as I was asking that question in that paragraph the answer hit me #and I realized I couldn't avoid discussing the elephant I'd just spotted in the room #that's kind of why it feels at least a little like two separate posts tbh #this was largely off-the-cuff so I am happy to receive any corrections to my interpretation of things #or any hard evidence for or against my assertions

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