#multi-colored disasters

[coveredinmetaldust]

The discourse around the OceanGate situation is making me really fucking mad. You are getting a lot of posts like this one where people are decrying how inhumane it is for people to meme on the situation instead of grieving for the kind of people would work you to death if it meant a 0.002% stock price increase.

Yup, these fucking losers are equating willfully creating a death trap and killing 5 other people instantly to a car accident.

I don’t even entirely disagree that yes, it is tragic. I’d rather they didn’t die from an implosion caused by their metal death-tube crumpling in on itself because the arrogant shithead CEO decided that all these safety standards other subs adhere to were getting in the way of innovation. Obviously it would have been preferable to find them drifting on the ocean surface a day later shaken but ultimately unharmed.

No, I’m mad about how blatantly lopsidedly this flavor of moral outrage is always applied. You never see these people on Reddit, Twitter, etc crawl out of the woodwork to denounce the people saying “well he was no angel” when a person of color is gunned down by the police. You never see these same multi-paragraph posts decrying how immoral it is to say “play stupid games win stupid prizes” when this shit happens to the poor, disenfranchised, etc.

You don’t see it, because the people currently on their high horse are the same people who would call you a fucking idiot if you were on this submarine.

If the entree fee was $250 and five working class people were killed I can guarantee you'd see these same people joking about Darwin awards instead of saying stuff like this.

But no no, suddenly now is the time to stop victim blaming and start grandstanding while clutching at pearls. Now is the time to get indignant and accuse people not of feeling empathy and being inhumane sociopaths. There are now were entire call-out topics on Reddit where they organized and briggaded anyone who dares to say anything bad about these poor billionaires. Where the FUCK was this outrage during, I dunno, pick any one of the numerous fucking examples of brutality and/or exploitation occurring within the last three years. Oh right, these dopey fucks were too busy wagging their fingers at the victims and telling them to take Personal Responsibility™. Too bad, if only they were born rich—then maybe these paragons of virtue on social media would go to bat for them.

But you know what the worst part of this discourse is? I can’t quite put it into words, but it’s so blatantly fucking obvious to me that all of this is insincere—this is actual virtue signaling. You can just tell by the tone, the regurgitated talking points, the slimy smug indignation. This is false empathy over people they couldn’t care less about and won’t even remember in a week, because the point isn’t to being a compassionate person.

No, this to grandstand and get that dopimine rush by calling people out. This is being done to score points for some political ideology and Own The Libs/Commies/Socialists/[insert any slightly left of center ideology]. This is so the Panglossian shitheels of social media can maintain the status quo and feel superior by stamping out any act of defiance or rebellion.

None of these of these people seemed to care about how disrespectful this kind of disaster tourism is for the victims of the Titanic. (Victims, who, were mostly lower class since the wealthy were the ones who were allowed to escape.) They don’t care that these rich assholes were profiteering off a tragedy and making a spectacle out of visiting a mass grave. No, they save that smug, condescending, and cynical response for the people who call out these rich assholes.

It makes me want to throw my computer into the ocean.

Now, if you are one of these people I’m screaming into the void about, and you genuinely do not understand why people are memeing the situation so hard, you need to take a step back and recognize that this is, objectively, an absurd and cartoonish situation. This could have easily been a plot for an episode of The Simpsons. This whole goddamn situation reads like something thrown together by a room of writers who were trying to out “yes and” one another until one stopped everyone and said: “Woah woah, hold on. The CEO’s wife is a descendant of the Titanic victims? Isn’t that just a little much?” And then everyone else ignored this person and just kept fucking going.

In short: it was the perfect storm of absurdity, coincidence, hubris, tragedy, and stupidity.

But that's just a surface level explanation which ignores the context of the last hundred or so years. Ask yourself: "why are so many people so unsympathetic towards these particular victims?" Well, there are a multitude of reasons that contributed to how we got to this point and this guy does a much better job of explaining it than I ever could:

#oceangate #titanic #the titanic #oceangate submarine #billionaires #oligarchy #reddit

[entrop-y]

**click for better quality!**

BY THE NUMBERS: CRIMINAL MINDS

a brief analysis of ratings, complacency, and the future of the police procedural

THE TRENDS

looking at general trends across the seasons 1-15, airing in Criminal Minds initial 2005-2020 run, the trends in ratings*, while not drastic, do reflect a decline in quality as the seasons progressed.

In the earlier seasons, most episodes were generally well received, with 2-4 “stand out” episodes—typically multi part episodes or season finales—per season. Notably, the stand out episodes often strayed from the constraints of the procedural format that structures the majority of episodes of Criminal Minds.

As the seasons progress, the majority of episodes in a season are mediocre in the eyes of the audience, with a few episodes being received quite poorly (ratings below 7.0). This is especially obvious in seasons 10-14. When thinking about the future of Criminal Minds: Evolution, it’s important (and fun!) to think about what was successful and unsuccessful in the shows original run.

WHY THIS IS

After season 5, but unequivocally after season 7, there was a noticeable decline in the quality of the writing, directing, and cinematography of Criminal Minds. The episodes felt increasingly fantastical—with storylines like evil twins, prince charming, and reid’s prison arc—making it difficult for audiences to suspend their disbelief. The early seasons focused on the profiling aspect of Criminal Minds, setting apart from other network police procedurals at the time. Criminal Minds felt smart and engaging, playing on real life cases and giving the viewer an insight into the unsub’s mind and the science* of profiling. In its infancy, the show did not rely on the gratuitous violence or drawn out take down scenes of the later seasons to keep viewers attention. Instead, Criminal Minds assumes its viewer is smart, immersing them in the word of profiling and building suspense by revealing the unsub to the viewer as the BAU identifies them.

As the show lost the elements that set it apart from similarly successful procedurals like NCIS or Law and Order, the episodes felt stale and unoriginal. This departure from its earlier premises created a bit of an identity crisis in the type of show Criminal Minds was.

There was also a notable decline in the direction and cinematography of the show. While the early seasons were admittedly rife with continuity errors and now dated editing, it was creative and ultimately, showed a degree of care and forethought that became lost in the later seasons. The yellow-grey color grading and uninteresting shots make the show less enjoyable. They are the opposite of inventive. The creativity and trials of the early seasons somewhere diminished, being replaced with an over reliance on the procedural format, becoming very formulaic.

This is particularly evident in season 10, which has generally low ratings and unmemorable episode, aside from “Mr. Scratch” dir. Matthew Grey Gubler. “Mr. Scratch” was so wildly different from all of the episodes of season ten, with writing and direction reminiscent of a full length horror film, it performed significantly better than the other episodes in its season. It demonstrated that criminal minds could still balance a fantastical premise with a genuinely terrifying unsub. Like earlier seasons, it also did not spell out the entire story for the audience from the beginning, instead highlighting Hotch as an unreliable narrator who under the influence of Scratch’s deliriant cannot decipher what is real.

FAN SERVICE, FINALES, AND THE FUTURE

As ratings slipped in seasons 13-15, the writers tried everything to keep audience’s attention. This included bringing back old unsubs (Lucky Strikes, Date Night) and the fan service disaster that was “Truth or Dare”. “Truth or Dare” reflected Criminal Minds’ inability to even make the interpersonal relationships between team members feel natural and realistic. The team bonding scenes became more frequent, but they felt unnatural in comparison to similar scenes (for example the bar scene in “The Big Game”).

The finale was an unsatisfying yet long overdue end to the Everett Lynch storyline, with the teams actions being overshadowed by Reid’s umpteenth near death experience—a sequence that for the first time since like season 4, was terribly impacted by the lack of Mandy Patinkin—making the entire episode feel disjointed.

The bad finale left especially pre covid viewers of Criminal Minds apprehensive at the prospect of a reboot/revival. It awkwardly fell somewhere in between being another soulless money-grab hollywood reboot devoid of its original spark, and an overdue “revival” more akin to a pause in filming because of the pandemic. Audiences also had to navigate “the paramount+ of it all”, which was more accurately a reflection of the lack of faith cbs executives had in this project. It being exclusive to their own streaming service made it perfectly low stakes.

Nevertheless, Criminal Minds: Evolution, was a success among audiences. The freedom of a limited series, as opposed to a procedural, meant the show got to be more experimental in its direction, which was refreshing. It was renewed quickly, and despite its flaws, seems to signify the possibility of a positive reception and legacy of the show.

NOTES:

*throughout this post, “ratings” refers only to the rating of an episode as listed on IMDb, not taking into account viewership and any other metrics CBS used to determine audience reception

**the phrase “the science of profiling” is used only for simplicity and to align with the language of the show; criminal profiling is pseudoscientific and should not hold any weight in the criminal justice system.

END

I hope you all enjoyed this analysis, it got a little out of hand but also did not even scratch the surface of what I could say about Criminal Minds from a media studies point of view. I would love to hear any and all thoughts people have, even if you disagree with me!!

#i know this is long #you don’t need the post to understand the chart i promise #but it’d be cool if you read it too #cm #criminal minds #criminal minds analysis #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #luke alvez #criminal minds evolution #prison spencer reid #long post

[flowerandblood]

Flower and Blood (Oneshot)

[modern! • Aemond Targaryen x female]

[warnings: kissing, menstruation and bleeding, fluff]

[description: A small house party is organized in the Targaryen house, during which the siblings and their friends play board games. Helaena takes her friend who is having her first "women's days". At one point, she states with embarrassment, that she has bloodied her seat, and her in-game partner, Aemond, who has hardly spoken to her until now, tries to help her (Anon Request).]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

From the morning she felt that something bad was happening to her. She woke up all sore and without strength, she couldn't concentrate on anything during class, her stomach hurt.

It wasn't until she went to the toilet during a break and saw specks of blood on the panty liner that she realized she had gotten her period earlier than usual this month.

She sighed heavily when she saw this. Fortunately, she always carried a few sanitary napkins in her backpack, just in case, she or her friends often came in handy. Disheartened, she thought it was going to be a terrible day, and her friend Helaena invited her to her house. She said that her brother Aegon had the idea to do a game night, and since they both loved games like this she immediately agreed.

Now, without pills and with disaster looming, she didn't know what to do. When she told Helaena what was happening she looked at her understandingly, rummaged in her bag and took out a sheet of pills.

"Buy yourself a tea from the vending machine and swallow it. These are strong antispasmodics, you should feel better in a few minutes." She said gently. She wanted to kiss her hands for the help, her ovaries throbbing like crazy in pain.

Indeed, after an hour the pain in her lower abdomen had eased. She thought that aside from the constant, disgusting feeling of bleeding, she felt a little better. Their house was not far from her dormitory, so she decided that even if she felt worse during the party, she would just walk home.

When they entered their house, several people were already there. Aegon greeted them with a smile in the hallway, hugging her and his sister. The two had seen each other several times before.

She knew Aegon liked a good time, alcohol, and women. Sometimes too much. He seemed to know that neither of them were their type, and he didn't force himself on her. Instead, he brought three of his female friends, apparently from his year.

There were two other boys besides them - Criston, their longtime friend, and Aemond, the youngest of the siblings. She spoke to him the least, because he didn't speak much. She had seen how many times girls forced him to talk, and he looked away, desperate and bored.

She wasn't going to force herself on him. She liked him, because he was concrete and rather gentle in his manner, even though he communicated practically only in grunts.

She greeted everyone in turn. As she and Aemond embraced lightly, she smelled some nice male perfume that made her nose twitch. She looked at him with a smile at the thought. He released her, looking away, turning his attention to his sister.

After they determined that everyone was assembled, they entered the living room where boxes of games were spread on the floor and large, multi-colored, bright pillows on which they were apparently supposed to sit. She sat on one of them, right next to Helaena. Aegon's friend sat next to Aemond, Aegon, Criston and two other girls next to each other.

They started with Rummikub. The game was about arranging tiles with numbers, in a logical, mathematical sequence. They could be numbers in order, their multiples by multiplication, addition or subtraction as well as by colors.

She loved this game, it required a lot of cleverness and adapting to what others had already put together. She fought for the win with Criston, but finally fell.

Aegon announced that it's time for cartoon puns. He said that to make it easier to come up with something quickly they would pair up. He dropped two colored pawns for each team into the bag and shuffled them around, passing them to each of them.

She slid her hand inside, pausing there for a while, and pulled out a blue pawn. She looked around and saw that Aemond was spread out on his pillow, propped up on his elbow, staring at her intently, playing with a pawn of the same color between his fingers.

She smiled at him and got up from her seat, sitting cross-legged on the pillow next to him. After the draw, it turned out that two of Aegon's friends were in a group with each other, the third with Aegon himself, and Helaena and Criston were together. Aegon handed out all the small whiteboards and erasable markers as well as cards with slogans.

Aemond and she glanced at theirs and saw that "The Little Prince" was written on it. The password, of course, referred to the book of the same title. They looked at each other surprised.

"I know that book." She said quickly.

"Me too." He said low, rubbing his chin, she was surprised at how deep his voice was. "But I'm wondering how to present it so that they understand right away."

She twisted uneasily in place and jumped, pulling the cap off the marker. She began to draw a simple rose under a shade, with lots of smaller ones around it.

"Yeah, yeah, very good idea" He said suddenly, and she was amused to hear a note of excitement in his voice.

They had to wait their turn. First, Criston and Helaena showed their sign. A bouquet of flowers and a man with a palette were drawn on it.

"Vincent van Gogh?" She asked uncertainly aloud, and Helaena clapped her hands.

"Yes!" She said happily.

She smiled at Aemond and made a dash on the side of their slate to indicate that they had just scored one point. Then it was Aegon and his friend's turn. They turned the tablet over and for a moment everyone wondered what it represented.

"That thing next to this boy and girl is a dog?" Aemond asked uncertainly.

Aegon nodded. Seeing that no one came up with any idea, he drew something quickly for the boy in his drawing. Criston leaned closer, frowning.

"Why does he have such weird teeth? Isn't it about Twilight?" He asked, and Aegon jumped happily.

"Yes!!!" He said, erasing his drawing, he and his friend high fived each other.

It was her and Aemond's turn. She turned over their slate, and they all looked at her curiously.

"Beauty and the Beast?" Helaena asked, and she shook her head. She took the slate, quickly drawing a moon and a boy on it. She turned the board around to face them again.

"Dreamworks Studio?" Aegon asked. She and Aemond cursed under their breath, shaking their heads. They looked at each other, wondering what to do.

"Maybe draw Little Prince and a fox." Aemond suggested quietly.

She jumped in her seat, delighted with his idea, and nodded quickly, drawing a figure of Little Prince in his trademark cloak and fox. She turned the slate over and Helaena clapped her hands together, trying to remember something quickly.

"Wait, wait, what was the name of that book… The Little Prince!" She said finally.

"Yes, bravo!" She said cheerfully, proud of the fact that they managed to present such a non-obvious password and book. He and Aemond exchanged a satisfied look.

Now it was the turn of two of Aegon's friends. They showed their slate, but she couldn't concentrate, feeling something was wrong. She turned around, wondering what it was. She thought she felt an unpleasant wetness between her thighs, but that was normal during her period. She shifted slightly on her pillow and froze, looking down. She saw the blood.

She looked helplessly around the room and looked at Helaena, wanting to draw her gaze to herself. She was too busy guessing to see it. She felt her heart pounding, her cheeks flushed with shame. She felt like she was about to cry.

Helpless and unsure of what to do, she grabbed Aemond's sleeve. He looked at her surprised and seeing her expression raised his eyebrows.

"Everything's all right?" He asked softly and she shook her head. She pursed her lips.

"I think I just bled your pillow." She whispered in shame, her voice trembling slightly as she looked pleadingly at him. His pupils dilated and he looked down at her thighs.

"Fuck." He said quietly, glancing at everyone around, who was still trying to guess. He looked like he was thinking very hard right now.

"Get up as usual and go to the bathroom, I'll turn the pillow and then take care of it. Will you need something to change?" He asked quietly, and she nodded quickly, trying not to cry in front of him. Her expression caught Helaena's attention.

"Everything's all right?" She asked gently.

"Y-yes, thank you." She said, not wanting to draw more attention to herself than necessary.

She got up on shaky legs, wanting to move to the other room as quickly as possible, Aemond immediately grabbed a pillow. One of Aegon's friends, the one who had sat next to Aemond earlier, must have seen the bloodstain, because she said:

"Oh, someone here isn't pregnant. Let's drink to that!" She said cheerfully, holding up her beer.

She felt her face turn pale, humiliated, all eyes were suddenly turned her way. Criston and Aegon looked at her sympathetically, clearly understanding the complexity and unfortunateness of these women's affairs. Helaena stood up quickly, terrified.

"Poor thing! Come to the bathroom, quickly!" She said, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the toilet. Only when Helaena left to bring her a pair of clean underwear and pants did she cry quietly, hiding her face in her hands.

She thought everyone would be staring at her for the rest of the day, and she ruined their pillow. She thought it was disgusting and cursed herself for not going to change her sanitary napkin sooner. Helaena handed her clothes through the gap in the door and closed it behind her. She washed herself quickly with cold water, dried herself with paper, and put on clean underwear, a sanitary napkin, and pants.

She looked at herself in the reflection, all red and swollen with tears. She thought she looked terrible and wanted to go home. She flinched as she heard a soft knock on the door.

"I'll be right back, Helaena, thank you very much." She said in a slightly broken voice, wiping her runny nose.

"May I came in?" She heard the same low voice as before. A shudder of pain and embarrassment ran through her. She looked at the sink, sighing softly.

"Y-yes, of course." She said, trying to stay calm.

She smiled weakly at him as he stepped inside, his gaze soft and calm. He looked at her with a hint of what she might call concern and sympathy. She thought that was the last thing she needed. They stood in silence for a moment.

"Are you okay? This chick's comment was unnecessary." He added, looking away, frustration evident in his voice. She pursed her lips at his words, closing her eyes. Thinking about it made her want to cry again, so she decided not to say anything.

"I already put the pillowcase in the washing machine, the insert itself didn't get dirty, so it will be like new. Don't worry." He said softly, looking at her expectantly. She smiled gratefully at him, appreciating the way he was treating her.

"Thank you and I'm sorry for the trouble. I'm so ashamed." She said embarrassed, wrapping her arms around herself.

"No problem." He said, taking a step closer to her. She looked at him surprised. "I know I'm not a good conversationalist. Like a fox, I can't relate to anyone who doesn't tame me."

She stared at him in shock, wiping her nose again. She blinked, wondering what he meant. She smiled understandingly at him.

"To tame someone, you have to give them space." She said calmly. Aemond pursed his lips.

"Exactly." He said softly. She felt her heart beat faster at the way he said the word. "That's why you made it."

She swallowed hard, staring at him in surprise. She thought she had only exchanged a few full sentences with him in the course of her acquaintance with him. Never dragging him out, never forcing him, never getting any closer to him than he wanted. She flinched as he took a step closer. They stood in front of each other, their faces a few inches apart.

"So if I say don't worry, then do so." He said softly. She blinked, feeling her lips tremble, wanting to cry again, but this time for a different reason.

"I want you to tame me."

She saw him smile at her words. She had never seen such a warm expression on his face before. She didn't pull away as he touched her cheek, his large hand brushing over her warm, still wet skin. Her lips parted invitingly, and he inhaled softly.

"May I?" He asked quietly. She nodded, and in a moment his lips were pressed against hers, soft, moist and warm, caressing her sensitive skin. Their fleshy lips brushed and pressed together with the sticky, wet click of their saliva. They broke apart, staring at each other with hazy eyes.

"My Rose." He whispered.

_____

A story at the request of one of the Anons Request, who mentioned that such a situation happened to her, unfortunately in less pleasant circumstances. 😓

It happened to me once at school too, but I figured it out quickly, no one noticed and I was wearing black jeans, so all I had to do was spray it with water and I somehow survived until the end of the day. 😵

Don't worry if this happens to you, it's normal!!! 💖💖💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn’t tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryens @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes

#aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x oc #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #ewan mitchell fanfic #aemond x reader #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #modern aemond x reader #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #modern!aemond #aemond smut #aemond fluff #ewan mitchell x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd x you #aemond x fem!oc #aemond x original female character

[deepdreamnights]

Classic Comic Villains: The Unnatural Selector

Pinup scan from TyrannoMax #21, Cocytus Comics, 1977

Born in a lost corner of the cosmos, the cosmic demigod known as the Unnatural Selector has but one driving concern: life and its propagation. For millions of years he has wandered the cosmos, transplanting populations and terraforming worlds to seed life in new corners of space and in his time-accelerated Genesis Engines, where he can study evolution in all its forms.

Part of this study is the "Tournament of Life," a cruel experiment where champions of a given world face a series of deadly trials and battles against disasters and the Selector's prized monstrosities. The biospheres of those that fail are scoured in a mass extinction event.

The Unnatural Selector was a regular foe of TyrannoMax, and showed up in several Cocytus Comics titles including Johannes Factotum: Professor of Practically Everything, True Life Tales of Science Fiction, and Barton's Mix-Ups!

-

A little sneak peek of a panel from an upcoming multi-page TyrannoMax comic I'm working on, reworked into a pinup. Bonus points if you can guess what the Selector is an anthro of (its not an animal, exactly.)

The Selector is a heavy edit, the main components of which are here.

As with most of my Tyrannomax stuff, the images are first composited, then reverted back to B&W lines, edited and inked, before being recolored from scratch.

I accidentally saved over the unedited background image, and Dall-E 3 is bad at archival.

I probably won't be going into this kind of detail on my process for the full pages, because this here is just one panel.

The Selector is a character concept I've had for awhile, this is just the first time I solidified a visual concept. A mysterious space god with a taste for trials and tournaments is a classic comic villain archetype, after all, and the evolution-obsessed villain fits nicely with dinosaur characters.

Might do a whole Coctyus Character Catalogue entry for him if the druthers hit me.

Prompts:

A cobra standing on a chunk of rock floating in in the cosmic void, it is reared up, threatening, facing toward the viewer, comic panel by jack kirby and john byrne, 1977, angled view

a cosmic nebula in the vague shape of a DNA double helix, comic inks by jack kirby, 1968, trippy, in the style of syd mead

A robed creature stands, one hand outstretched, palm up, toward the camera, he has a lion's head with a mane made of green flames, wearing cosmic-tech gauntlets, imposing, mysterious, foreboding, standing on a rock floating in the starry void, wide stance, standing tall, comic panel by jack kirby and wally wood, 1968, in the style of 1960s marvel comics, eerie cosmic coloration, wide angle, full body. The mood is dramatic.

#tyrannomax #retro comics #unreality #the unnatural selector #ai assisted art #ai edit #dall-e 3 #fauxstalgia #Cocytus comics

[justenjoythegossip]

CHRIS IS GETTING PAID HANDSOMELY FOR HIS EFFORTS…

Autumn is over so it’s time to get back to work…

Chris has finally grown tired of looking at leaves and trees changing colors. Also all that reflecting he did with his kind of wife must have become tiresome. Pottery and weed will have to be put on hold for a while since he is getting ready to get back to work. He had said that there won’t be another year with 3 movies. But this coming year already has 2 and according to rumors there’s more in the pipelines. 

Chris is getting the best opportunities he’s had in a very long time…

Certain blogs (trolls/plants) were obviously lying when they were stating that Chris was blacklisted. He didn’t agree to this shitshow, so that he could retire in the sunset with his Nazi “bride”. We knew that there would be payment for all of his efforts. Sure for a lot of us, his efforts selling this RS/marriage didn’t look that great but they were good enough for his masters anyway. And it was all that mattered in the end. 

And now he is getting his reward. Look at the 2 gigs he just got. 

Honey Don’t is directed by Ethan Coen, a multi academy award winner. And Celine Song (the director of the materialists) just directed Past lives which is considered by many to be a masterpiece. And I personally agree, that movie is extraordinary.

Sure we don’t know how these new movies will turn out but these are the most exciting projects he has been a part of since Sunshine by Danny Boyle and Snowpiercer by Bong Joon-ho. If you exclude his involvement in Marvel of course. 

So Chris is getting amazing opportunities at the moment and yet it makes little sense. 

Payment for the PR shitshow…

Not that Chris is not talented. I do believe he is. But he has recently starred in many panned movies, that were not only flops commercially but critically as well. And he just got his first nomination for a Razzie award. Actually he even got 2 nominations at the Razzies. Red One looks like another disaster in the making.

His numbers on social media are plummeting. The engagement is quite low. So the math ain’t mathing. But actually it does…

Anyone who had followed Sebastian Stan’s own shitshow knew of the great opportunities Seb got after it and is still getting to this day. Chris is following the very same route. Anyone who is excited to see Chris in these exciting new projects needs to understand that this PR shitshow was the price to pay for it. 

Most actors go through ups and downs. Sometimes the downs can be terribly long and horribly painful. By agreeing to this PR, he has taken a shortcut. He has taken the easy way out. Or the lazy way out I should say. I do consider what he did to be a lot more difficult for the soul though. No one is in his shoes and we can't judge. All we can do is to wish him the very best and hope that all of this was worth it.

[wednesdayshadow]

Neils Tumblr answers led me to do this (part 3)

The wedding ceremony, if one could call it that, is being held at an indoor movie theatre that is currently showing Fertilize the Blaspheming Bombshell starring Bo Hopkins. They were able to close the theater as no one has come to see this film in quite some time even though the popcorn is made with just the right amount of butter and Sheila Caan is wearing a very skimpy bikini. Crowley is exquisite in his choice of wedding attire. High heeled snakeskin boots with gothic black feather shrug cape and parachute pants and he accessorizes well with his hair pulled back in a matching snakeskin stretchy headband adorned with multi-colored rhinestones. No one will ever call him disaster coded again! Sadie looks radiant in her pirate outfit complete with wooden peg leg and tri-cornered hat with veil. She has repeatedly refused to explain the peg leg. When it comes time for the vows the officiate, Roger The Postman, turns first to Crowley who says: “I, take you, to be my awful wedded wife, to have and to scold, from this day fast-forward for better but not worse, for richer, sans poorer, forget sickness only in health, to loathe and to cherish, till suspicious death do we part” Roger, then nods at Sadie who then recites hers: “I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death do we part, or you turn into a zombie. Because then we’re going to have to start seeing other people.”. There are no rings to be exchanged as Sadie claims wedding rings are just trappings of the patriarch. So, instead, they do the Jiveshake. Crowley and Sadie then retire to the area behind the screen. They make love behind the screen while people dressed as rabbits bring them jam sandwiches. The aforementioned movie begins to play for the guests. As they get dressed, they exchange clothes, Crowley sees the pies that the rabbits left out and starts eating them. Suddenly, 3 large goats rush the area behind the screen and devour the groom while Sadie watches on in horror! Crowley’s last word is “pedometer”. Suddenly, in his place stands a very large aardvark. The aardvark surveys its surroundings and upon seeing Sadie says with great aplomb and a Scottish brogue, “Good day to you madame, my name is Arnold the Animated Aardvark pleased to meet you.” He then leaves the stunned bride to jump into the Bentley and drive away while The sounds of The Velvet Undergrounds “I’m Set Free” are blaring from the car speakers. Roger the postman glares at the retreating car and with a tilt of his head and a middle finger extended he exclaims, “Put a sock in it mate!”

#neil gaiman #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #dottie and sadie #chinchilla

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Tai passing on his cargo shorts and hawaaiin shirts to Yang to officially recognize her as a new dad when the bees have their first baby. Alternatively, Ghira becoming so attached to yang by then he passes his dad outfits onto to her, which creates some awkwardness between tai and ghira when they notice she uses both of their hand me downs. Kali and Blake thinks it's cute (blake is not letting yang pass down her dad outfits to their children though)

Taiyang: (holding a box of shirts and cargo shorts) Oh, man! I cannot WAIT to give these to Yang! She's absolutely gonna love- (sees Ghira with his own box) ....Ghira.

Ghira: Mr. Xiao Long

Taiyang: So.....whatcha got in the box?

Ghira: I could ask you the same.

Taiyang: Just some clothes for MY baby girl to wear.

Ghira: (peeks in box) These are all tan...

Taiyang: They’re multi-event appropriate.

Ghira: Are those bright orange crocs?

Taiyang: Hey! You can kick these bad boys into 4-wheel drive with just a flick of the heel strap! Ready for beach or jungle! (Looks in Ghira’s box) What about you? These are all too big! Plus, black's not exactly my baby's color. Maybe purple, but not with the clashing print of those disasters.

Yang: Oh! Hey, Dad! What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you to visit until next week?

Taiyang: (tries to push Ghira but bounces off) I wanted to surprise you! Here! I have some things you might like!

Yang: Uh...tan shirts.....um...thanks?

Ghira: Here, Yang. Maybe these would work better for shirts. At least they'll still match the shorts.

Yang: Oh, sweet! I love the prints on these shirts! Thank you! I'll go put these upstairs for now. (takes boxes and gives Ghira and Taiyang kisses on the cheek) Love you both!

Ghira: (once Yang is out of earshot) She kissed my cheek first.

Taiyang: Yeah, and she probably got rug burn from it!

Blake: Should we step in before things get too heated?

Kali: Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine. You have an actual baby to care for. Not a couple of men acting like one. (Bounces grandbaby in her arms)

#bumbleby #jealous taiyang #papa ghira for the win #passing of the dad-robe (like a wardrobe but for dads) #thanks for the idea anon! #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #taiyang xiao long #ghira belladonna #kali belladonna

[cartelheir]

UNUSUAL MUSE ASSOCIATIONS

spice. chile de árbol. weather event / natural disaster. wildfires. color. gold, as well as all shades of red, from a bright red that immediately attracts attention to darker shades similar to the color of blood. magical power. pyrokinesis. shoe. classic louboutin pumps, shiny black on the outside with red soles. plant. red roses, or marigolds. animal. the answer pat wants? a tigress. the real answer? a chihuahua. weapon. custom gold pistol. subject / major. business and logistics. gemstone / mineral. diamonds, not so much for their meaning but because she'd walk around covered in them 24/7 if she could. makeup product. red lipstick. candy. dark chocolate. fear. being taken advantage of, vulnerability. sport ﹙ traditional or extreme ﹚. tenis, or dancing. method of long–distance travel. private jet, or otherwise first class airplane. hour. high noon, when the sun beats down mercilessly from straight above. wood. mahogany. mythological creature. succubus. three emojis. 😡🔪😈 moon phase. full moon.

tagged by: stolen from @lcvnderhazed

tagging: @parieur @flmed @samuhelll @artmadc @americanedpsycho @7saith @fairestjuliet @embodies. also steal away. multis feel free to pick whoever you want!

#𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 . ❛ sangre por sangre. ❜

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Snippet from the next chapter of Mama’s boy

His eyes found a box covered in different colored dots. Twister. Just off of the packaging it had to be more fun than Monopoly. Spider held it up to show the group, eliciting a mix of laughter, mischievous smiles, and ambivalent looks. Quaritch shook his head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, tiger.”

Spider glanced between the man and the colorful box confused. “Why? How do you play?”

“It’s just a very physical game. You could get hurt if you played with the others.” With the others, already implying to Spider that Quaritch wouldn’t be participating.

Spider shrugged, “So what? I grew up rough housing with Na’vi.”

“Na’vi children,” Quaritch amended. Spider was big for a human and because of that wasn’t that much shorter than his friends. But the recoms? They all had a minimum of two feet on the kid. And most of them still weren’t as cornatated as they used to be when they were human.

“Spidy can spin the wheel,” Ja said, taking the box from Spider, moving to an open space to spread out the game mat.

“You're not seriously going to play this are you,” Z asked, judgment written across her face as she took in the tiny human sized mat.

“You bet your ass I am! It’ll be hilarious! Now who is brave enough to play with me.” It took some work but Ja was able to convince Mansk and Lyle to join him, Prager and Z lining up seats next to Quaritch and Spider to watch the impending disaster. Spider was handed the multi colored wheel, with instructions on how to shout out directions. With a flick of the plastic arrow he called out “left hand on yellow.” The three men complied, instantly making Spider see how this was going to be a shit show, their long limbs looking ridiculously oversized on the tiny mat.

They quickly became entangled with each other. Mansk and Ja were displaying some impressive feats of strength and flexibility, while Lyle was stuck in an unfortunately compromising position. Spider was cackling so hard he had to pass his wheel spinning duty off to Quaritch who was doing a very good job of pretending to be unamused by the whole situation. Z and Prager were sarcastically cheering on the sidelines.

“Right foot on red.” The trio collectively groaned. Their right feet were across the mat on green.

“Mansk, y’a gotta go first man,” Ja said, panting with the effort of holding his position. Mansk grunted his answer, straining to pick his foot off the ground. He slowly but successfully moved his foot into position. Ja followed suit struggling just as much but ultimately succeeding. Then it was Lyle’s turn. The man had to practically do a handstand to move his leg over his comrades without accidentally kicking one of them. His foot hit a red dot hard, sliding on impact. A ripping sound echoed in the room, as the mat split in two, causing the three men to fall in one big pile. Everyone on the sidelines, including Quaritch, roared with laughter.

“Way to go Lyle,” Mansk shouted from the bottom of the pile.

“I slipped!”

“Get off of me you bald bastard.” Ja yelled, flailing helplessly in the middle of the tangled bunch.

So much for Twister

#miles spider socorro #spider socorro #colonel miles quaritch #miles quaritch #avatar fanfiction #recom lyle wainfleet #recom ja #recom mansk #recom zdog #recom prager

[archivallyfound09]

Everything's Perfect

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader (f), (no y/n)

Warnings: Swearing, teeth-rotting fluffiness, fall themes

Setting: Post Top Gun: Maverick (no spoilers)

You wrapped your arms around your body, pulling the mustard yellow knitted cardigan around your waist in an attempt to keep warm. You had been standing out on the front porch, staring at the lake in front of you. The leaves were like a multi-colored stained glass window, their reds and oranges turning to a blended mix in the rippling water. You sighed and leaned against the white pillar of the Craftsman style lake house.

You hadn't realized you were fiddling with one of the fraying corners of the sweater when you felt two arms wrap around you from behind. You jumped and accidentally pressed further into the strong chest that was now holding you captive. A chin came to rest on your shoulder and you smiled, immediately recognizing the body behind you.

"Ya know, you're supposed to also enjoy the food you're cooking..." Rooster's voice was low and tickled your ear. You giggled and turned slightly in his grasp to partially face him, swatting at him. He gave you a million dollar grin- permanently lopsided as usual.

"Just needed some air," Rooster raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes, your hand coming into contact with his chest, "the kitchen was hot. That's all. Honestly." You gave him a genuine smile and he leaned forward, pecking your lips quickly.

"Come on, everybody's inside and they're afraid you poisoned the food and left the scene of the crime," Rooster smirked and started to drag you back into the house by the waist as you laughed again, deciding not to drag your feet too much as you left the crisp fall air.

The sight that greeted you when you entered back into the lake house was enough to make your smile widen and hurt your cheeks. Half the group was on their way outside, a football being tossed around between Yale and Fanboy as they barely made it out of the living room without knocking over a chair.

Phoenix and Bob were off to the side in the kitchen, cleaning dishes and finish the now-empty bottle of wine that was hidden behind the breadbox. You rolled your eyes as Phoenix spotted you and raised her glass to you in a toast. Bob gave you a sheepish look and shrugged, soapy water splashing onto the counter as you shook your head.

Your eyes traveled to the long dining room table in front of you. Payback, Coyote, Halo, and Fritz remain at the table, eagerly eyeing the four pies you had placed on the table. When they saw Rooster bring you back inside, they all looked at you with puppy dog eyes, begging to dig into the pies. You laughed and waved them on, suddenly afraid of someone losing a finger at the attack assault on the desserts mounted.

Rooster pulled you closer to him and absently placed a kiss on the top of your head. You felt a slight blush creep onto your cheeks but were shaken from it when you saw Hangman hanging halfway off the couch, a beer precariously perched in his hand as slight snores filled the space in front of the television. You patted Rooster's hand and stepped out of his grasp, heading for the potential clean-up disaster that was beer on the rug.

Rooster watched every micro-movement as you detangled Hangman's large grip from the beer bottle, placing his now-empty hand on his chest with a few pats. Hangman stirred a bit and then turned on his side, still fast asleep. You raised the bottle to Rooster in a show of victory and he gave you an impressed slow-clap with a laugh. You tossed the bottle into the trash as you headed into the kitchen, the previous occupants joining the dessert task force at the table.

"I'm sorry," you ventured quietly as Rooster stepped over the threshold into the kitchen and sat down on the stool at the center island. He pursed his lips but waited for you to continue. You took in a shaky breath, your hand resting sharply on the edge of the sink, your back to the Naval aviator.

"I'm sorry you have to go."

Rooster let out an unfeeling chuckle, shaking his head. "Darlin," you turned to face him at the nickname, "I think I'm the one that's supposed to be apologizing for leaving. You're staying right here, right?" The question came as an afterthought and you quickly nodded your head, a solemn look still veiling your face.

"Then no need to apologize," he offered his hand to you across the island and you took a step, placing your hand in his palm. "I'm sorry I have to go. You know I'll miss you every second I'm gone." It wasn't a question-it was a statement of fact and you felt a small smile break a your sad visage.

"I'll miss you too," you said, your voice caught in your throat and coming out scratchy and pitchy. Rooster squeezed your hand and stood from the stool, quickly striding to you and wrapping his arms around you. You breathed in hie scent and felt your nervous system start to calm down.

"We'll have plenty of time for missing when we're apart. But for now," he leaned forward and gave you a kiss, his lips moving perfectly in tandem with yours. The kiss was over as soon as it started, your closed eyes not wanting to open and let the moment go.

"For now," he started again, hoisting you up over his shoulder, your ass in the air, "I need some football in my life!" You let out a loud laugh as he carried you out of the kitchen, past the now empty dining room table littered with pie crusts and empty plates and forks, and towards the television. He kicked the couch and disrupted Hangman's relaxed slumber abruptly. Hangman sat up, letting out a "goddamn what the fuck" as he swung his legs to the floor.

In one swift movement, Rooster had dropped you unceremoniously to the couch with a loud thud. You let out a surprised "eep!" halfway landing on Hangman who let out another "what the fuck?!" as Rooster was now almost all the way out the front door. "Sorry! Football!" was all he said, vanishing and leaving you alone with Jake.

You turned to the groggy pilot next to you incredulous. Hangman rubbed his temples and then let out a laugh. He stretched and stood up from the couch, offering you a hand. You expected these manners from Jake, he had stopped with most of the whole "cocky-asshole-pilot" shtick around this crew. What you didn't expect was what he said.

"He'll come back safe. You have my word."

You barely felt the hand on your shoulder as you forced yourself to nod, your feet carrying you towards the door to where everyone had evacuated. You stepped aside, letting Jake head out with a wink and a nod to you. Rooster saw the whole thing play out in the doorway.

"Hey Seresin, you leave my lady alone, ya hear?" Oooh's and "oh shits" bubbled up from the pilots on both teams. Hangman rolled his eyes, grabbing the football mid-air from Coyote.

"Then don't drop her onto my lap, Bradshaw," he challenged, as his offensive line fell into their positions facing Rooster and snickering and chatting to each other. Rooster rolled his eyes and tossed a wink at you, a smirk quickly following. You laughed and now it was your turn to roll your eyes and let out a sigh, taking a seat next to Halo on one of the Adirondak chairs on the porch.

You knew the next mission was soon. You knew you'd be a wreck the whole time he was gone. You looked around at all the other pilots as the ball was snapped and everyone started to move. You had written them all on their last assignments. You had sent care packages to the few that had gone on that Top Secret mission a year ago. Your eyes kept traveling through the group until they held on Rooster.

The man you had fallen in love with one fateful night at a bar in San Diego. He threw his head back in a triumphant laugh and it was like you were watching everything in slow motion. You committed every detail of his face, from the freckles now scattering all over his nose, to the scar on his cheek, to the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed to memory.

You took in an unintentional shaky breath and Halo turned to give you a sympathetic look. You forced a smile when you felt her eyes on you and then turned back to Rooster, realizing that his team was cheering, Payback hoisting him up onto his and Coyote's shoulders. Hangman groaned and you laughed as Rooster pointed to you from his new throne as the rest of his team swarmed around him.

"That one's for you, baby!" He yelled and you laughed, catching the football that he underhand tossed to you on the porch. His smile beamed and you held the football with pride, laughing as the celebration turned into a dogpile/wrestling match with both teams. Just for a moment, up here, away from everything they did, everything they would do, everything was perfect.

-----

A/N: In that kinda fall-ish mood today (temps finally dropped and stayed in the high 60's!), enjoy the fluff.

Rooster Taglist (ask to be added!): @alana4610 @athenxt @notanordinaryprincess95 @je-suis-prest-rachel @fogle97 @walkonthewiidside @jostyriggslover96 @lunamoonbby @rosiahills22 @newlibrary @n3ssm0nique @indynerdgirl @and-claudia @sadpetalsstuff @munsonseddieee @ancabifi @nickie-amore @yourphinphan81 @multifandom-fangirl4 @kajjaka @maverooster @justalonelyslytherin @kstevie567 @caprisunzz @nik2blog @blindedbyyourgrace17 @saraandthejets1 @bradshawwannebe @greatbigshiningstar @eminems-skittles @mavericksicybabe @julia-2904 @igotmajordaddyissues @ebonyhogan24 @saramaple @timbradfordsboot @nobody7102 @icemansgirl1999 @caitlyn221b @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @craftytrashprincess @herladyshipxx @pedritobalmando @double-j @arianna-bradshaw @johnnycobra84 @hope-love-equality2 @katieshook02

#Top gun Maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #top gun 2 #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster bradshaw #rooster fluff #rooster top gun #top gun rooster #rooster drabble #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw reader

[helenvader]

What is your least favorite color and why?

It will sound cliché, but I kind of love all colours. I even wear all colours, just not "separately". All of my clothes are multi-coloured, because I am a flower-pattern and actually any-pattern girl. And my boobs look ginormous in one-coloured clothes. 🤣

So my dislike would be purely contextual. I wouldn't paint my walls anything dark, and wouldn't have a dull-coloured couch because I like vibrant colours (my sofa is red).

But if I should pick one, it would be brown. I have close to no clothing with brown. It's... dunno... boring? OMG and a brown hat (I am a crazy hat lady with about twenty 1930s-style summer hats) would be a fashion disaster of extreme proportions. Would make me look like an idiot. So, brown it is.

Favourite colour would have been easier! Sky blue/ baby blue. 🩵

#ask games

[rockislandadultreads]

Libby Spotlight: Newly-Added Science & Nature eBooks

Fire Weather by John Vaillant

In May 2016, Fort McMurray, the hub of Canada’s oil industry and America’s biggest foreign supplier, was overrun by wildfire. The multi-billion-dollar disaster melted vehicles, turned entire neighborhoods into firebombs, and drove 88,000 people from their homes in a single afternoon. Through the lens of this apocalyptic conflagration—the wildfire equivalent of Hurricane Katrina—John Vaillant warns that this was not a unique event, but a shocking preview of what we must prepare for in a hotter, more flammable world.

Fire has been a partner in our evolution for hundreds of millennia, shaping culture, civilization, and, very likely, our brains. Fire has enabled us to cook our food, defend and heat our homes, and power the machines that drive our titanic economy. Yet this volatile energy source has always threatened to elude our control, and in our new age of intensifying climate change, we are seeing its destructive power unleashed in previously unimaginable ways.

With masterly prose and a cinematic eye, Vaillanttakes us on a riveting journey through the intertwined histories of North America’s oil industry and the birth of climate science, to the unprecedented devastation wrought by modern forest fires, and into lives forever changed by these disasters. John Vaillant’s urgent work is a book for—and from—our new century of fire, which has only just begun.

Slow Birding by Joan E. Strassmann

Many birders travel far and wide to popular birding destinations to catch sight of rare or “exotic” birds. In Slow Birding, evolutionary biologist Joan E. Strassmann introduces readers to the joys of birding right where they are.

In this inspiring guide to the art of slow birding, Strassmann tells colorful stories of the most common birds to be found in the United States—birds we often see but might not have considered deeply before. For example, northern cardinals thrive in the city, where they are free from predators. White brows on a male white-throated sparrow indicate that he is likely to be a philanderer. This essential guide to the fascinating world of common, everyday birds features: detailed portraits of individual bird species and the scientists who have discovered and observed them; advice and guidance on what to look for when slow birding, so that you can uncover clues to the reasons behind specific bird behaviors; and bird-focused activities that will open your eyes more to the fascinating world of birds.

Slow Birding is the perfect guide for the birder looking to appreciate the beauty of the birds right in their own backyard, observing keenly how their behaviors change from day to day and season to season.

Universe: 50 Ideas You Really Need to Know by Joanne Baker

From dwarf planets to dark energy; and from the Big Bang to the death of stars, this book is the perfect introduction to the cutting-edge science that is shaping our understanding of our place in the Universe and that could lead to the next great discovery -- the detection of life beyond Earth.

The Devil's Element by Dan Egan

Phosphorus has played a critical role in some of the most lethal substances on earth: firebombs, rat poison, nerve gas. But it's also the key component of one of the most vital: fertilizer, which has sustained life for billions of people. In this major work of explanatory science and environmental journalism, Pulitzer Prize finalist Dan Egan investigates the past, present, and future of what has been called "the oil of our time."

The story of phosphorus spans the globe and vast tracts of human history. First discovered in a seventeenth-century alchemy lab in Hamburg, it soon became a highly sought-after resource. The race to mine phosphorus took people from the battlefields of Waterloo, which were looted for the bones of fallen soldiers, to the fabled guano islands off Peru, the Bone Valley of Florida, and the sand dunes of the Western Sahara. Over the past century, phosphorus has made farming vastly more productive, feeding the enormous increase in the human population. Yet, as Egan harrowingly reports, our overreliance on this vital crop nutrient is today causing toxic algae blooms and "dead zones" in waterways from the coasts of Florida to the Mississippi River basin to the Great Lakes and beyond. Egan also explores the alarming reality that diminishing access to phosphorus poses a threat to the food system worldwide—which risks rising conflict and even war.

#nature #science #ebooks #libby #library books #reading recs #reading recommendations #book recommendations #book recs #tbr #tbr pile #tbrpile #to read #booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Robots & Gardens Part 3

Everything is a draft and will be subject to change later and there will be grammar mistakes. My usual spiel XD It's been a while huh. The document was giving me hell when I finished typing this up. Finishing up this chapter as most of you voted for in the make me write tag game/poll. You can find the previous parts here -> 1/2/

The screen mounted on the wall had quickly came to life beginning to play the hyper cinematic news. Broadcasting it through the old scratchy speakers within the room. 

“Tonight we show live coverage from the newest competitor from among the largest manufacturers. A multi-millionaire approaching even higher realms of wealth and possibilities. Tonight this man of many accolades speaks for all of us.” 

He didn’t look like what Green would imagine a multi-millionaire to look like. It was just some pasty white dude with the sleeker pair of teched glasses and neon nail polish, oh, and a sad mustache. The older pairs felt like a couple of cell phones taped to your head. She knew because she’d stolen a few pairs easy. You could always tell the newer ones cause the color didn’t flake off the frames.  His bright nail polish glittered as he covered his grinning mouth with his hand.  

“Thanks for having me and for the lovely introduction. We are in the process of merging with the very notable manufacturer of Justice Robotics.” 

Green felt the forehead wrinkles forming briefly pausing in her idle roaming. Maybe she shouldn’t have grabbed Peace from the protests today but the money was too good to turn down. The threat this client offered against all Peace’s protestors was worse. She knew Peace could handle herself but she didn’t have the skills to console Peace if her protestors got ran through. That newbie richie’s words sounded like an absolute disaster in the making.

A long running manufacturer that makes a majority of the bullshit and a new company known for elaborate coding and mimicked products. She lifted her knife from the holster and acknowledged the weight in her hand. Twirling her knife in her hand as she returned to her idling. Ignoring the lingering odor double fisting her nostrils with her best efforts. Frustrated that the smell didn’t seem to care about the woman’s position. This crew was soon to be hers. She was tough. She provided for those that she could. It didn’t matter that it involved breaking a multitude of laws.

“In this move, we will be consolidating our products and efforts. We will even destroy two of our old headquarters in this locale to replace it with sustainable land.” 

Green rolled her eyes. Sounded like a lie. Though if there even was a follow through, they’d still have to throw tons of money at those damn filters. The same stupid filters that newbie’s company made. She mumbled aloud to herself about Peace’s future rants about how funding for this destruction would come right out of the actually important parts of the education efforts. Green wasn’t sure if she’d just be an open ear or mention that the education efforts didn’t do much for the both of them anyway. 

She grunted to herself ignoring the shuffling feet of crew members shoving old shirts into the drafty windows. The smog lately had been atrocious. Green had forced her crew and Peace to use masks. Her thoughts refocused to the wealthy man babbling; maybe centering the rich idiots will make less interference and more business. 

“Is this a countermeasure to the smog covering oldtown locale? How have your backers felt about these decisions?” The reporter asked. 

He laughed, and it made the speakers rattle, “One can consider it that. My backers are enthused by the new move! They encourage actions like these.” 

“We’ve heard a lot of mixed reviews on this. From workers, citizens, and fellow manufacturer owners. Is there anything you would like to say to sway them?” 

“Don’t fear change! We guarantee this move will improve air quality and all products leaving our facilities! Our companies’ profits will merge but outstanding payments will be handled from separate funds. Allowing for wages to remain as they were.” 

Green continued to twirl her knife catching a new glint on the screen. The overbearing lights of their news set brought attention to a wedding band on the rich man’s slender fingers. Blinking as the screen flickered off. 

“Be prepared. We might have to house the protestors after this news.” She stated, slipping her knife back into the holster. 

A muffled laugh slipped past a crew member. Older. Their gray hairs sprinkled throughout their exposed chest hair. They tossed the remote aside and nudged Green. A damp shirt tossed over their shoulder, ready to fill in any gaps in their crumbling safehouse. 

“After this stunt. We’ll probably be getting all kinds of wild calls.” 

Green grunted in affirmation. “Yeah, and I’m sure a shit ton will ask us to murder innocent protestors.” 

“They hate people that oppose their goals.” They put a hand up to hush Green and hurled the shirt at the head of a fellow member. 

The shirt landed with a wet slop. Proceeding to hang off of the victim's head. 

Green snickered, “Good aim. Don’t think we should cause any damage before we have to run around like wild men. Jus’ like you said. We’ll have work coming for us.” 

The wet shirt returned, hitting their shoulder. They clambered to grab it before it hit the floor. Holding it against their thigh before tossing it back up into their hand. 

“Tough guys gotta goof off before the serious jobs hit.” 

“This is a serious job. We can’t let the smog fuck up everyone inside too. We got kids in the building.” She unbuttoned her sleeves, carefully rolling them up, “I’m gonna see if I can shake out the filters or something.” 

---

The engineer sat on the floor, squinting at the laptop that sat on her knee. One hand keeping it balanced there. She viewed the video data that Donnie had left for her about their tagging incident. Well attempted. The video was fucking butchered. It was grainy, one, but then it would crash after a few minutes. She’d blame it on the tag itself if the video hadn’t been distorted from the start. Hollis was doubtful she could restore something like this. Or if it was even worth it to do so. She tried not to let it frustrate her. But who was ever chill about the tech they made not working with them? 

Donnie was obviously an important person, she could tell that easily. The cyborg’s shirt was smooth– silky, and it was patterned. A dress shirt that she knew cost more than her weekly snack runs. Even if she had a tendency to apply the shove it in her pockets discount. Though she wondered how an important person could have such high-end tech go so long without upgrades. Without checkups. The man was a cyborg. Basic maintenance could be life or death. So could the tagging incident. She stared blankly at the corrupted video data. 

Digits kicked the door, arms still out of commission. She had enticed her helpful roommate to stay back with the exaggerated imagery of what might happen to her arms as they got worked on. Brian had looked queasy by the time she mentioned the pain has made her vomit and then crumple into a pile on top of it. She had gone in to bash the door with another swift kick, jumping when Hollis swung the door open. 

Hollis leaned against the door frame, carefully eyeing the woman. She caught sight of bronzing knuckles beneath artificial skin and grimaced. Not noticing the confusion on the woman’s face. 

“Can I come in?”

Hollis nodded and chewed on her cheek. She moved aside to let the woman in. 

“How long have you had those prosthetics?” 

Digits’s face scrunched in distaste. The engineer didn’t know if it was from the question or the answer. 

“Maybe six years. Something like that.”

Hollis nodded silently and lifted one of Digit’s arms. Concern filled her eyes as she glanced up at the woman. Careful to not let her gaze linger longer than necessary. Though she had failed at that one. 

“I realize my prosthetics are an older beta model. Can you fix this or not?” Digits snapped, wanting nothing more than to snatch her hand back from the engineer. 

Hollis released Digit’s hand hastily. She only asked the questions out of necessity but she understood how this situation was not the best for easing the mood. Though she knew this Hollis still grimaced. She placed her hand on Digits’s shoulder and pushed her down into a chair. 

“Let me put my contacts in and get my tools,” Hollis shot a smile with too many teeth irritated, “Unable to move both arms? Any feeling in them at all?” 

Digits grunted when her ass hit the chair. Arms hanging limp at her sides. Hollis felt Digits’ eyes on her back. Unbothered by the feeling. More on edge that she’d actually have to have as good vision as possible to not fuck Digits up more. This wasn’t a squint and hope for the best kind of job. So Hollis sucked in a breath and held her eye open with one hand before dropping a couple eyedrops in. Repeating this in her other eye. She popped open the case to her contacts slipping them in with ease. She blinked aggressively towards the wall until the contacts tinged her brown eyes blue. Waiting for Digits to answer. 

Digits pressed herself against the back of the chair. Ignoring the quiet creak of protest that sounded at the movement. 

“Nope, I can’t move them at all. Sort of, it’s just nulled a ton.” 

Hollis tossed her tools onto the table and approached Digits. She lifted both of the woman’s hands picking at the artificial skin with her thumbnails. 

“Well, you won’t feel what I’m gonna do to you then. I’m guessing your arms giving out wasn’t sudden. You have a tell.” Hollis’s eyes scanned over the prosthetic unamused, popping a marker from her overalls breast pocket. 

“Usually a tingle in the back of my neck. Like anxiety shakes.” 

Hollis trialed the marker down her three prosthetic fingers on both hands. Pressing hard on the back of her hand to try to find where the rest of the machinery was located. Mumbling to herself as she circled the woman’s wrists. She felt more artificial skin as she traveled up the woman’s forearms, following it with the marker. 

“Whoever installed your prosthetics were idiots,” Hollis stated matter of fact, not marking again until she reached the back of the woman’s neck. 

“And that means it’ll make your job harder won’t it?”

“Correct.” 

Digits sighed loudly, feet tapping impatiently on the floor. Watching one of Hollis’s smaller bots zoom past their feet. 

“I can do a temporary fix that should keep you in better shape than now. But it won’t stop the lockups. I’ll have to install a new cable in an attempt to reduce some of the stray charges. If they implanted a supplemental chip to assist with faster readings there’s a chance it’s just being overloaded.” 

“Shit. That sounds expensive.”

“You’ve got me working on an old beta that didn’t survive a year past the testing stages. The fix up is gonna be expensive. I’ll just take whatever you have on you. Any more and I’d be robbing you.”

“Sounds like bullshit.”

“More shit than your prosthetics,” Hollis quipped back, “Don’t talk down on my kindness if you want somewhat functioning arms for your day job.” 

Digits shot the engineer a thin lipped smile. Looking away from the engineer as she did her job. She probably deserved that. Hollis nodded accepting that silence as an answer. She scrapped off all of the woman’s artificial skin. Sighing at the mess that rested in front of her. She placed both of Digits’ arms on the table and got to work. 

#writeblr #Robots & Gardens #XD Been a while since I worked on actual story components #original writing #yo I don't even remember how I was working the perspectives fuck

[goongiveusnothing]

his ego won't let him stay close to anyone.

Or maybe everyone that's close to him eventually shows there true colors and just wants to use him to boost there careers, or maybe it's because all of Harrys friends are getting married or in committed relationships, having babies. Harrys getting older and so are his friends things change priorities change it's a part of life. Harry sacrificed a big part of his life to have the life style he lives. His priorities are touring, making money building a brand, his friends chose a different path. I think some of you need to stop being so critical.

If you still have people in your life from childhood your one of the lucky ones, some of us don't we made sacrifices and that ment cutting people loose that wasn't meant for part of our journey doesn't mean we are damaged, or can't have committed relationships. Geeesh

Or maybe everyone that's close to him eventually shows there true colors and just wants to use him to boost there careers

and harry doesn't use them? he has literally tried to surround himself with victoria's secret models and other celebrities like the gerbers or nick grimshaw and the primrose hill gang and the people from his movies, he's even tried to name drop his own former band mates for clout.

and what do you think james corden and ben winston and brad the trainer use harry for? his company? you don't think brad is living off "all the pussy" he's gotten from being near harry? are you that naive? xander literally bragged about how he could harry into a threesome with some girl, and harry was cool with that. harry even tried to get some dude laid onstage and it turned out he then started messaging children online.

sacrificed a big part of his life lmao. like he's lived in a war zone. if you can stay friends with anyone as rich as he is, that's on you.

his priorities are making money, his brand that he gives no shits about, and touring for the money. yeah. i wonder why nobody around him likes him.

if you're a multi millionaire celebrity and you can't keep any friendships apart from the people you pay for work and then perhaps potential work collaborators like taylor russell, then that is definitely a reflection of you. his fans can be butthurt about it all they want. they know his friends suck ass and his personal life seems like a disaster. who the fuck would want to hang out with the azoffs, xander, ben winston, james corden, and brad at every turn? it definitely reflects on him and his fans know that.

[magnoliabutters]

• BUSINESS FIRST •

pairing: eddie munson x (he/him) reader

summary: what should you expect from a 6-o’clock meet up at the auditorium. will this be an adventure, or a disaster?

warnings: 18+ content, minors dni, adult language; the fluffies, almost caught, slight mentions of violence and anxiety, make out sesh, heavy petting, y/l/n use: 1, etc.

word count: ~3.2k

reblogs for the baby eddie!

• the banished ones • part two •

note: part dos! here we go (a-mario!) also i don’t know much about d&d, but i am desperately hoping to start up a group. Here’s my resource in case anyone else is interested in learning more c:

Sitting in your car, you find yourself lost in trance like thoughts. You have been sitting in the school’s parking lot since 5:30. What will this night bring you? Excitement? Pleasure? Pain? Humiliation? Distraught? Your fingers harshly tap against your steering wheel. You wish you could stop your negativity, but you have no clue how.

The possibilities of this meet up could be disastrous. Or it could be incredible. You will be risking a lot here. But what is life, if not a dangerous and ridiculous adventure?

The clock hits 6:00. Taking a deep breath, you step out of your car - an old beat up ‘79 Volvo Coupe. Walking towards the school’s front doors, you shake out your hands. Your eyes watching for any homophobic pieces of garbage hiding behind each corner. Luckily for you, Hawkin’s High has a clear map in its main entryway. You memorize the journey needed to make your way to the auditorium - to Munson. “Okay. One right turn, walk down past the cafeteria, and then a left,” you whisper to yourself.

You push through the auditorium doors. Your guard is still up. There will not be a repeat of today’s excursion with that Jason boy. You notice a long wooden table resting across the stage. The multi-colored lights lit, but dim. The place seemingly empty. Fear strikes your chest.

“Munson?” you shout out the question. Suddenly, Munson jumps away from the curtains as though he had been waiting. “Y/l/n, you’re here!” he says excitedly. You chuckle to yourself. “Were you just hanging out behind there?” you ask playfully. He laughs, walking toward the edge of the stage. He takes a seat. His feet dangling. “That’s one possibility,” he replies with a smile.

Walking slowly towards him, you feel a bit of curiosity rush through you. “So, what are we doing here?” you ask. Munson hops off the edge, landing gracefully. He meets you halfway. “Do you have any guesses?” he asks as he leans towards you. You could almost feel his curls on the sides of your cheeks. Leaving you with the question: Is he into you or does he just not understand personal space? Maybe the answer is a bit of both.

“I’m thinking you might teach me about this Hellfire club that you signed me up for,” you share. Munson’s eyes light up, a smile forming across his face. “You are correct. Welcome,” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He leads you towards the stairs connected to the stage. His arm is warm and gentle against your body. You wouldn’t expect anything different from him.

“So where are you from, J?” Munson asks, as you reach the stairs. His arm falling to your upper back and then slowly back at his side. “I just moved here from Chicago,” you answer. He smirks, impressed. “Chicago, huh? I’ve been trying to get my band out there,” he replies. You turn towards him, “What band? A Hellfire band?” Munson laughs at your genuine curiosity. “It’s called Corroded Coffin. It’s separate from Hellfire,” he says with a smile. “Actually, Gareth and Jeff play with me. They sat with us at lunch. We do a lot of heavy metal, inspired by the classics: Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Metallica. I could go on and on,” he laughs - almost as though he was embarrassed. You smile, enjoying his honesty.

“I’ve heard of Black Sabbath, but not too much of the others. That music is pretty intense,” you share. “Yeah! Don’t you just love it?” he whispers, leaning back into you. You welcome his touch, catching Munson a bit off guard. “I bet you do,” you softly say as you pull away.

You approach the long wooden table. There are nicks throughout the top. Multiple water lines infect its surface. However deep and dark the brown of the wood is, you cannot see past the fact that this table has been quite overused. You trace your fingertips against it. “What are all these marks?” you ask, turning back towards Munson. He watches you, all of you. His eyes slowly raise from your lower half. He grins in response to you catching him.

“They’re from our die, or dice or whatever. Sometimes we get a bit over excited and throw them hard enough to chip the table,” he laughs to himself. You smile, watching his joy. Munson walks over towards the table and drags his own finger against the top as well. “Hellfire’s had this table since ‘78. It’s seen a lot of battles,” he says, almost reminiscing.

“Battles?” you ask. A smile deepens upon his face. “Yes, J. Battles - great and treacherous,” he says with his chest. He raises his hands over the table. “The Realm of the Forbidden Dagger,” he smiles. “Oh god! Heroes of the Elder’s Horde,” he clutches his heart. “Fuck, Todd writes out the best campaigns.” You laugh, enjoying his happiness. Munson’s eyes elated. His hair bouncing as his body exudes excitement.

“What’s a campaign?” you ask. Munson scoffs, smacking his hands onto the surface. “A campaign?! Oh, dear dear boy,” he says, tracing his finger towards the head of the table.  With a smack of his hand, Munson has your full attention. “A campaign is a beautiful, adventurous story filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, in worlds full of fantasy, magic, and most importantly - role playing,” he says, inflection throughout his voice.

“Role playing?” you ask, walking closer to him. “Yes! When you join the campaign, it-it's not just a game. You’re living it. You are your character. You feel what they feel, see what they see. Their losses are your losses, wins are yours,” he says with such animation.

It is almost as though you are watching him with rose-colored glasses. His hair bouncing against his shoulders as he explains in excruciatingly, fine details the game - no, the art of Dungeons and Dragons. His gestures are so enthused and full of life. His arms are thin, but strong. His brown eyes shining bright twinkles as he discusses something he is so painfully and obviously passionate about. He is absolutely beautiful. He is entrancing to watch. He evokes such delight and joy within you - something you have never experienced before.

Munson actually made this fantasy role play game seem interesting. You would never have joined in on a game like this back in Chicago. “And don’t get me started on being a DM,” he laughs, finally making eye contact with you after a long winded monologue. “What’s a DM, Munson?” you ask smoothly. You lean back onto the table, attempting to make yourself seem more open. He winces as he watches your weight rests onto the surface.

“A-a DM is the Dungeon Master. That’s who Todd is. He creates the campaigns. He leads us through the story. Todd even acts as each of the characters we run into,” he says, initially still focused on your sitting upon the table. You catch the hint and stand up, trying to maintain your nonchalant demeanor.

“I was really hoping to be a DM this year, but the boys keep voting for Todd’s campaigns,” Munson softly says with a sigh. With a deep breath of courage, you push a strand of his hair away from his face with your finger. “So where do I start?” you say confidently. He smiles, eyes focused on your fingertip.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a neutral tone. You quickly search for some twitch of his cheek, a slight squint of his eye - some indication that you did not just hit on a straight guy. “U-uh, nothing I guess,” you reply, uneasily waiting for his response. Munson lets out a sharp sigh, keeping his eyes to the floor. Your heart beats rapidly. Blood shooting right to your cheeks. Sweat begins to pool at the back of your neck.

With what felt like forever, Munson raises his eyes to you. He has to look up as you are a good inch or two taller than him. His doe eyes almost impossible to ignore at this angle. Before you know it, his hand is gently placed against your cheek. A beautiful, big smile appearing on his face.

“J, I’m your guide. I gotta get you prepared for the campaign on Friday,” Munson says with a whisper. He gently rubs his thumb against your cheek. A beautiful sensation of comfort you have yet to experience. He leans his face close to yours. His lips sweet, pale, and supple. “Business first, baby, then pleasure,” he says sincerely. With each word, your body flusters with hot white intensity. Your skin bubbling with goose bumps. Your body screaming to reach out for him.

You take a shaky breath, loud enough that he looked down at your mouth and then back at your eyes. Munson smiles and quickly turns away from you. His curly hair wiping across your face. You chuckle in response. “So, you’ll start with creating your character. In order to do that, you’ll have to pick a class,” he says, clapping his hands together with finality.

He walks closer to the edge of the stage, staring back towards you. “You have thirteen classes to pick from. We have a Barbarian, as you can imagine with a name like that they’re pretty bad ass and huge on dealing damage. Bard is almost the exact opposite - more of a support, a spells-kind of character. Cleric is like a holy healer with its own brand of magic.” Munson continues to speak, walking back and forth across the stage. You feel as though you should be taking notes.

“Now a Druid,” Munson says with a laugh, “pulls its magical powers from Mother Nature herself. They can also shapeshift. Fighter, god. Fighters are your weapons people. They carry the whole arsenal and kick ass.” Knowing you will probably have to pick your class by the end of his lecture, you continue to lean into your instincts for what class speaks most to you. “Monks are better without weapons, funny enough. It is definitely more of a strategic class where you’re building up power as you play. Paladins are kind of like clerics but have a higher defense since they’re pretty hefty. They’re also more on the aggressive side of things,” he says smiling to himself. You find yourself feeling like you are on the outside of an inside joke.

“So, are Paladins holy too?” you ask hesitantly. Munson’s head bounces side to side. “Well, they aren’t preachers but they are on their own ‘holy quest’,” he answers with air quotation marks. You audibly humph in response. “Almost done, okay? We have the Ranger. Rangers can be kinda tricky. There’s a lot of factors at play and some are dependent on the campaign too. I wouldn’t really recommend this class your first time around,” he smiles.

You grin back towards him. “First time around?” you say with a twinge of confusion. “Yeah! We’re probably going to complete a few campaigns before we graduate,” Munson says with excitement. You are continuously reminded that you have no idea what you signed up for when joining the Hellfire Club.

Munson clears his throat, stopping in his tracks. “Rogue,” he says dramatically. “Rogues can fuck up your entire life. They’re tricky, mischievous little dicks. They’re deadly focused on stealth attacks. They’re quick and precise - definitely a bit scary if you ask me.” An involuntary grin beams across your face.

You live your life in somewhat of a stealth mode. Your true self hidden deep within you. A tough exterior. But you know how to defend yourself and you often rely on others’ thinking less of you. Surprise attacks are your strong suit, but never unwarranted. Your eyes are placed on the floor as you imagine a powerful and exciting life as a Rogue. “Silent, but deadly,” you whisper. “Exactly,” Munson says. “There’s a few more-” You interrupt him. “I’m a Rogue,” you say confidently. “You don’t want to hear the last few?” Munson smiles at your genuine excitement. He walks closer to you, eyes fixed. “No need. What’s next after choosing your class?” you ask with curiosity.

“Pleasure,” he replies as he rushes his hands towards your face. He catches you off guard as his lips crash into yours. Your eyes quickly close as you feel the intensity of the pressure against you. After a brief moment of surprise, your hands wrap around his waist. You pull him closer towards you.

Without leaving his lips, you both walk towards the table. You lean him back, but feel hesitancy in his body language. “Munson?” you ask through kisses. “Hm?” he says deliriously. “Are you alright?” you slowly pull back from one last soft kiss. He laughs, “It’s stupid.” He lowers his hands to your hips. Your hand brushes his cheek. “Tell me,” you say smoothly. “I-I just can’t do this on the table,” he says, hissing through his teeth. An awkward tight smile appears across his lips. You smirk. His dedication to this game and club is astounding. With a raise of your eyebrow, you grab his hand and pull him towards behind the stage’s curtains.

As his curly locks brush against the red velvet, you press your lips against him with a fiery embrace. Both of you are struggling to choose between breaths and kisses. Between caresses, your hands find the back wall. You pin Munson up to it, as you slowly move your kisses from his lips, to his jaw, and finally to his neck. He lets out a soft moan, encouraging you all the more. His head curls onto yours as he becomes ticklish from your light kisses.

Beautiful, sweet laughs fall from his mouth. Slowly, you retreat from his neck. You find yourself with locked eyes, inches from his face. A dazzling smile draws across his - dimples so cute that you would do anything to see them again. You watch as his chocolate eyes twinkle with joy. His hair perfectly poofed and framing his face. “You’re gorgeous by the way,” you say softly. Luckily for you, his smile grows larger. His eyes squinting with the amount of glee being expressed within his face.

Munson tightens his grip around your hips. He pulls your waist onto his. He leans up slowly - each second feeling like an eternity. To your slight disappointment, he leans past your lips and towards your cheeks. He whispers in your ear, “I’ve been waiting for someone like you.” He pulls away with an honest, yet nervous, side smile.

Matching his energy, you smirk right back at him. “I’m right here,” you whisper. Your eyes struggle to focus between his lips and eyes. With a slower build up, you gently place your lips upon his. One hand props you against the wall. The other on his warming cheek. Your tongue presses against his lips. With a slight opening of his lips, your tongues crash against each other in a rush of passion.

With his level of animation and happiness, you might expect an exaggerated level of passion. Maybe a bit rough? Maybe a bit energetic and active? No, Munson was soft and sweet. His hands travel across your lower back. His waist digging into you, but not a single pressuring movement.

God damn is Munson an incredible kisser. His lips leave you in euphoria. His soft pecks sending exhilarating bursts of energy throughout your body. This is a kiss like no other. You find yourself leaning deeper and deeper into each kiss, never wanting to come up for air. Your hands move to softly grasp onto his hair. His head resting upon your palm. The passion increasing within you both. A kiss that started so innocently, now leading you into a more loving embrace.

Tightening your grip onto his hair, you feel Munson pulling you in to him. It feels as though you both are not close enough to each other, despite being as close as you physically can. His hands begin to slowly trace to your front. It leaves you with ticklish goosebumps and a desire to adjust your stance. Your breathing feels heavy against his lips, leaving him with a bright smile.

Pulling away to gather yourself, you maintain eye contact as you feel his hands unbuttoning your jeans. Your chin raises in pure nervousness, but there is no else you would rather be with in this moment. Munson smirks, biting his lip as he enjoys your body’s movements. With shaky breaths, you feel him pull down your zipper. You begin to feel yourself twitch at his touch, desperately craving it but also apprehensive. You have never done this with a man before. It’s not that you have never wanted to, never thought about it. You just have never felt comfortable enough to explore this side of yourself with anyone else. Not until now.

As Munson slowly moves his hands from your stomach and taunts his fingers at your boxer’s waistline, you hear a sudden burst of the auditorium doors. Munson and you immediately drop and move towards the curtains. You quickly zip and button your jeans to avoid any trouble. Your positions switch. Munson has you pinned against another wall, shielded by the velvet. His finger to his lips, directing you to remain quiet. His demeanor completely changes. His defenses up, but ultimately watching over you. He saves you again, you think.

You both hear someone speaking. “Yeah, he’s definitely a bad ass. You can’t deny that,” the high pitched voice rings through the air. Another voice responds, “Yeah, I know. I’ve just heard Eddie’s ideas for campaigns and wish we could give that a try.” Munson grins and returns his gaze to you. “Eddie?” you whisper to him. “Until next time,” he replies. He gently places a peck against your lips - sweet and sincere.

With a sudden movement, Munson jumps out from the curtains. “Gareth! Ben!” he yells with his arms wide open. “Eddie! What’s up, man?” Gareth says, rushing up the stairs to meet him on the stage. “All good! Just teaching the newbie. Come out, newbie,” he says with an excited tone. You slowly appear from behind the curtains. “Hey, guys,” you say hesitantly.

“Hey J, did you end up creating your character?” Gareth excitedly asks. “We haven’t gotten that far, but we do have a new Rogue in our ranks,” Munson answers proudly. Ben laughs, “Oh hell yeah!” Munson looks towards you. His gaze shifting to those adoring eyes. “Let’s finish what we started?” he asks, as he pulls a chair out from the table for you. You smile and follow his lead.

As the boys take a seat around the table, they purposely leave the head chair empty. Gareth pulls out a book titled “Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set.” He opens the book and quickly begins looking for a specific page. Once he’s found it, he smiles and slowly raises his head towards you. “Time to create your character,” he says confidently. One quick look at Munson leaves you with butterflies in your stomach. “Let’s do it,” you say with a nod to your head.

note: ooooof! they getting hot & heavy 🙈🤤 edited 06.13.23

special thanks to: @strangersthanthings​ @eddie-of-hellfire​ @thoughtfulcopzonkpie​; your reblogs are beyond appreciated. thank you c: 

#Eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x male reader #Eddie munson x male #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fluff #st fluff #stfanfic #gay eddie munson #gay fluff #gay couple

[thiawen]

Since I’ve asked about challenges recently, I wanted take a minute to talk about my favorite challenges that I follow. (Though I confess I have yet to participate even though I’ve followed them for years. Someday, damnit.)

These are all multi fandom events that are free for everyone to follow and participate. I highly recommend them.

First up: Evil Author Day

EAD is an annual event that occurs every February 15. It’s where authors post any of their Works In Progress for people to get a peak at and enjoy. Here’s the evil part - there are no promises attached to these snippets. The author may never get back to it. There may never be more than what you see or they may finish it next week. It’s read at your own risk. Seriously.

Jilly James maintains a masterlist of EAD participants that can be found here:

This goes back to 2015 and it’s still going strong. I encourage anyone who wants to participate. I’m thinking of doing so myself this year. When the time comes, you can drop a link to Jilly and she will add you to the masterlist.

Next: Quantum Bang

Quantum Bang is a Big Bang Writing Event and the theme is fix-it fics. It’s been going for a few years now and I love it. It’s too late for anyone else to participate this year but posting begins in June for anyone who wants to see this years offers. They also maintain an archive of previous years if you want to check it out. There are some absolutely amazing fics there and I highly recommend it.

You can find the website and archive here:

You can sort the archive by years, fandom, genre, author and artist. Very convenient.

Next: Rough Trade

Rough Trade is a multi fandom theme challenge. There are three challenges a year in April, July, and November. It’s technically two themes at a time and you can do one or the other or both. Whatever you want. The challenges for 2023 will be as follows:

April: Crossover / Found Family

July: The Sentinel / Natural Disaster

November: Magical World / Second Chances

You can check it out here:

You have to become a member to dig deeper into the site but anyone can sign up and subscribe.

Last: The Big Moxie

The Big Moxie is another multi fandom themed challenge but I think its a little more flexible than Rough Trade. Here are the Rules:

1. Minimum 5,000 words count (no maximum)

2. Any fandom (no RPF)

3. No limit on the number of stories

4. Only unpublished works qualify

The Big Moxie is a quarterly challenge. It’s too late to sign up for the first quarter this year but here they are:

Q1 - Inexplicable Babies

Q2 - Fusion/Crossover

Q3 - Friends to Lovers

Q4 - Time Travel

You can also find the To Every Season Challenge on this site. It’s a seasonal theme challenge that I’m sure a lot of people would enjoy.

Original Winter – January – March

Theme: Original Characters

Alternative Spring – April – June

Theme: Gender and Sexuality expressions outside of the binary

Sapphic Summer – July – September

Theme: Femslash pairing (Yes, it can be platonic)

Vibrant Autumn – October – December

Theme: Characters of color

You can find the site here:

I hope everyone enjoys all of these as much as I have. And I encourage anyone who wants to participate. It’s open to everyone and the fandoms and fics I’ve seen have been diverse and amazing. Go check it out.

#fandom thoughts #writing prompt #fanfic #fandom #danny phantom #DC #Marvel #Thunderbirds #Thunderfam #Fanfiction #fandom writing events #writing events #Evil Author Day #Rough Trade #Quantum Bang #The Big Moxie