#you are inventing things to be mad about and somehow you are still wrong about whether you should be mad about them.

[nothorses]

The bomb was unequivocally genocidal and racist but so was the opposing side of the war and it feels disingenuous if not blatantly antisemitic to post callouts about Oppenheimer without acknowledging that he was Jewish

this is the weirdest fucking ask I have ever received and I am posting it exclusively because I NEED to roast this person's whole thought process. I need to.

"The bomb was unequivocally genocidal and racist-" yes, dropping a bomb on multiple Japanese cities is indeed genocidal and racist.

"-but so was the opposing side of the war" yes, hitler was genocidal and racist. However, you are now engaging in a debate about whether bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki was "deserved"; whether all of those civilians deserved to die in the name of *checks notes* a more complete surrender by the Japanese government than the one already being negotiated.

And, of course, in service of flexing on Russia.

"it feels disingenuous if not blatantly antisemitic to post callouts about Oppenheimer" this is the post anon is referring to. if you click that link and read the post, you'll notice that it is not, in fact, a callout post of Oppenheimer. It's a post about how much it sucks that the movie, "Oppenheimer", does not include or mention at any point the people (particularly indigenous people) injured or otherwise affected by the bomb's testing.

"-without acknowledging that he was Jewish." Sorry. is your argument that it's antisemitic not to mention that Oppenheimer is Jewish when discussing the ethics of doing genocide against Japanese people?

Like this whole argument is that it is actually antisemitic if you don't bring up that Oppenheimer was Jewish any time the bombing of Japan is mentioned, because- and I'm working on inferred meaning now- it's actually okay to do genocide on Japanese civilians, so long as their government is in a political alliance with nazis, and the person "doing" the genocide is Jewish.

And you are arguing this in defense not only of a guy who is in no way being attacked here in the first place, but who also did not actually do a genocide personally so much as, like, work on nuclear technology for the US military (and there are some moral nuances there as well, don't get me wrong, but... woof.)

With the added assumption that Oppenheimer worked on the bomb because Japan was allied with Germany and that he, personally, actively, wanted to genocide Japanese civilians. A thing that, to my knowledge, he has never actually stated- and in fact, it seems that a significant part of the plot of Oppenheimer is that he regretted and attempted to rein in the atomic bomb.

Hey.

Buddy.

I think it's time to learn more about social justice and world history than the little "it's okay to be mad at your oppressors" platitudes that were circulated on Tumblr back in 2014.

#im fucking losing it yall #please this is so unhinged on every level #you are inventing things to be mad about and somehow you are still wrong about whether you should be mad about them.

[fadelion]

I'd really dig a Duke solo run right now. Or rather, a Duke focused run that shows off Gotham during the day again and has minimal appearances from other bats and established heroes. Something that shows how he runs things when it's just coming down to him. And brings the old Robin Crew back.

I admit, I feel like the curing of his parents was kinda anticlimactic. Like, if Metamorpho can synthesize a cure for Joker Gas, that guy needs to be on speed-dial. (Is he probably busy and hard to reach like every other hero trying to do this full time while maintaining a personal life? Probably? Would I offer him some of that Batman money to make some time every few weeks or so to examine all the various toxins and such used by multiple Gotham villains? Absolutely.) So, maybe that cure didn't work. Not permanently. A rare misread from Metamorpho, something that he could've and would've fixed ifnhed seen it. Maybe that gas mutates the victim over time, and if they stay dosed long enough, they start to relapse, even if cured. What if Duke's parents just have the occasional fit of mad laughter. Just an incident here, once or twice a month or so. But they seem to get longer each time, and then they start happening once a week. Twice a week. Every other day. And Duke is starting to freak out, running himself ragged on his off time to try to figure out what went wrong.

At some point, he recalls a case he was on that he never really got a chance to fully close out: The White Market. This place (seen in Batman - Case Files: Signal) was a whole villian swap meet, full of interesting gear, tools, spoils, and inventions, all hidden on a whole other wavelength that most people can't even see. Maybe some other villian has a cure-all for this kind of thing, or just something useful until Metamorpho gets free (the man muttered something about a "Danger Street" in one of the quickest phone calls Duke ever had, and Black Lightning and Katana are probably still on the same kind of stuff they were doing when Jason ran into them a few months back). Maybe, after some time has passed, they feel comfortable opening up a Gotham access point again, now that the heat seems to have died down.

Of course, there was a whole other half to that incident. Mainly that a Riko and Dax, somehow empowered by a tech billionaire, showed up to work the same case, Riko leeching Duke's powers to match the wavelength necessary to get into the White Market in the first place. Yeah, it ended with a blown cover and Duke getting beat bad enough that they were able to confirm he has a healing factor, but it's still unfinished business, and going toe to toe and blow for blow with people that used to be friends can't leave a good taste in his mouth. And it's not just Duke trying to figure it out. After all, you don't throw money like that into a project, and then scrap it, especially one of the steps in your plan is to jump a Bat (the new, daytime Bat, but still a bat). So they have to be still looking, right? If he can find a way into that tech guy's system, maybe he can get hold of some information he missed.

So, Duke has with a conversation with Tim about what Duke plans to do (because anybody else is busy (Nightwing running the Titans/League, Red Hood... "recovering"), out of the city (I think Batman is off world in comics at the moment? There's a current running comic about it. ), or might try to stop/join him (Oracle, Black Bat, and Spoiler, who have a Birds of Prey thing running right now, IIRC, and Robin, who's probably helping hold down the night shift). And Tim is all for it, willing to cover some things for him as long as Duke is sharing information and doesn't get himself killed. Duke makes sure Tim has Izzy's contact info and vice versa, and maybe emergency Hatch access, and he's out in the streets the next day, trying to find an access point for information on the place where he might find a cure for his parents. Only instead of a Bat over his shoulder, he's got Izzy in his ear and just his own skills in the field against assorted villians, another billionaire, and whatever he's still gotta deal with in the day to day to even have the time for this.

And all the while, there's a part of him thinking that maybe he can get the old crew back together instead. If they don't beat each other senseless on sight first, anyway.

Or maybe after. A win is a win.

#duke thomas #gotham city #dc comcis #batman #batfamily #dc signal #the signal

[silkythewriter]

General dating headcanons for 2012 Mikey, Donnie, Raph, Leo, and Splinter?

General dating head canons for the 2012 TMNT!

Summary: as said in the title! This General dating headcanons for 2012 Mikey,Donnie,Raph,Leo,and splinter!

Daily song suggestion that ( kinda ) fits with the theme!

Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes! And sorry if they are OOC

Warnings!: This might be a bit bad sense I haven’t watched the show in a few years so this is all based on memory I apologize!

Fandom: Tmnt

🐢Donnie💜

I’m gonna be honest with you he’s probably a simp for you ngl like bro has hearts in his eyes around you- his brothers most likely tease him for it

Mikey always somehow in someway ruins a moment you two are having, about to kiss? Mikey’s doing something idiotic and you both have to make sure he isn’t going to hurt himself- you always laugh it off while Donnie probably mops  about his lost chance with you 💀

He loves talking about his machinery and inventions aswell as some things he’s planning to get to make some new inventions! He mostly only talks to you about sense your the only one listening without spacing off or telling him to stop

Probably goes to April for some dating advice sense your probably his first relationship and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, But he wants to get some in sight to make sure he’s at least doing something right

Let’s you watch him work on his inventions! But he makes sure your at a safe distance where you can’t get burned or hurt by any parts or things he’s using

He’s a doofus sometimes, he try’s to impress you and ends up making a bit of a fool of himself, but you find it adorable!

He likes putting his bandanna on you cause you look adorable with it on his own words not mine

Such a cute honey pie honestly he loves you with all his heart and don’t take that lightly he truly does!

🐢Raph❤️

Mikey slander. That’s it you just watch him slander Mikey

He’s rough and strong infront of his brothers but with you he starts lowering his tough guy persona, don’t get me wrong this man will never ambit he’s soft but you can tell especially when you guys are alone together hanging out

He lets you pet his turtle and feed him both of you for some reason love watching the lil guy eat while just chatting about your day!

He teaches you some self defense moves so when he’s not around he knows you’ll at least put up a good fight, he gets a bit worried sometimes surprisingly so you’ll have to reassure him your fine

He loves when you take care of any scars or marks he has after a particular hard fight, Though he might be in some pain it relaxes him to know your there for him, also he trusts you a lot so, this shows troughs this act

Like Donnie he’s probably a simp for you BUT he’s better at hiding it sometimes he does slip up though and shows it Mikey teased him relentlessly until raph snapped and started chasing the man- you had to step in and try defusing the situation

R.I.P to any one of his brothers if they tried teasing you in front of him, this man will defend you with his last breath Some of them had to learn that the hard way

Over all sweetheart but doesn’t show it much he still loves you though even if it’s hard to show <3

🐢Mikey🧡

Spams you with memes at 3AM so might wanna turn off your notifications 💀

A menace tbh

Very energetic! Keeping up with this guy sometimes seems impossible! his adorableness makes up for that for sure, I mean who could be mad at him? Look at him!

Uses you as a meat shield from his brothers. Dude will come at you in full speed before ducking behind you and grabbing your sides to move you around as raph tries getting him to drop you and fight like a “man” so be prepared for that

Sometimes he can be an idiot but in a cute way!

I feel like he love’s physical affection so hugging,cuddling,handholding,etc! He likes to hold your hand and swing it as you guys walk together it’s honestly adorable- he also loves giving you hugs from the side randomly trough out the day!

Sometimes after some rough fights he loves to cuddle up with you as you kiss his head and complement him for his hard work, it makes him feel appreciated and loved! He also loves playing mini games with you on his free time! Like hiding seek or tag

Splinter sometimes scolds him for skipping training to hang out with you while Mikey just laughs it off, He’d be more careful sneaking off to you cause he doesn’t wanna get you in trouble too

Does that thing where you poke someone over and over again and saying their name again and again till they pay attention to you, it can be annoying sometimes but it’s honestly adorable how happy he gets when you finally give him attention! You cant stayed annoyed too long he doesn’t mean to be annoying…… at least sometimes….

Overall he’s a very energetic boyfriend! He’s sweet though! And he tires his best for you so just keep that in mind!

🐢Leo💙

I feel like he’s the chillest boyfriend out of this list

He likes showing off the new moves splinter taught him! He takes you trough each step of learning it even if you won’t use it he still likes explaining it!

Like Raph Leo teaches you some defense moves! But just the basics nothing to much only punching,kicking,dodging, etc

He likes discussing he’s plans with you! He also likes your in put if he should fix or rearrange some things in the plan to make it work more efficiently

He likes to lay his head on your lap as he rambles on about his day and his brothers, but would also love to hear how you day has been going!

sense he’s a mutant he can’t really take you on date to fancy restaurants or arcades or the mall sense it would draw so much attention- so! He makes a make shift date with a table two seats/pillows, some pizza, and a few roses he managed to pick in the night from a random garden he found.

He loves to watch films with you and just chill out in the layer while eating pizza or playing a game!

Overall hes one of the more chill boyfriend’s outta all of them at least in my headcanon but he’s still fun to hand out with! Especially when you guys go out ( at night of course) and just chill in the empty almost abandoned parks

Splinter

(This one might be a bit short)

Okay so! I feel like he lets you watch him and the turtles train new moves and such!

He likes embarrassing them infront of you by saying some sassy re mark or something else in that nature of course no harm done! Just a little funny comment

He’s a gentleman for sure you know opening doors for you, kissing your hand,and other things

I feel like he has baby pictures of the four turtles after they mutated and looked like lil baby’s it’s honestly adorable he especially likes doing this infront of them as you gush about how cute they were as kids, they get super embarrassed

I feel like he would teach some moves but unlike the rest he’d actually show you some more hard ones just incase,he does have a lot of enemy’s so I’d be dangerous if they knew splinter had a new lover, even more dangerous if they knew it was you

He meditates a lot so I feel like he would let you join if your up for it!, it’s really calming and relaxing it’s also a way to get away from the 4 almost always fighting turtles

I feel like the turtles see you as a second parental figure like a mom/dad/parent which splinter is pleased to find out!

He lets you brush your fingers trough his fur, it’s actually really soft surprisingly!

Sorry this took so long I apologize! Also sorry if they are OOC sense ( like I said in the beginning!) I haven’t watched the show in a while but I hope you enjoyed either way!

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt mikey #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt leo x reader #headcanon #tmnt 2012 april #x reader #all genders #sorry lol #thanks anon! #request #tmnt 2012 x reader #main character #ayyyyy #*dies cutely*

[evesaintyves]

Trick or treat! 🍭

thank you @annabtg !!

i know you like jily so im writing you a @jilymicrofics i guess? i've never really written these two characters before except as guest appearances but here goes

(863 words)

Scouring charms were invented by a man, it's obvious, because it takes about nine passes to get the dried-up spat-out Pablum off the wall. James thinks the mess is cute and she should leave it—it's almost like art, he said once, the spatter-pattern of flecks on the wallpaper. He was raised with house-elves and never learned to clean. Right, our little Jackson Pollock, Lily muttered, and James didn't know what she was talking about.

Every day he disappears into the box room and polishes a broom he hasn't ridden in months. Sometimes the two of them duel in the back garden, with Harry in his highchair behind an iridescent bubble of defensive spells. James rarely gets a shot past Lily, but when he does, Harry cackles in his strangely bawdy toddler way and smacks the biscuit crumbs around on his tray. It can feel a bit like they're ganging up on her. James swaggers up, clears up her boils or whatever else he's hexed her with, and then murmurs in her ear, why don't we put him in his cot and have a lie down?

It wasn't so long ago that she'd have giggled and dragged him upstairs by the hand. Now she says I really ought to degnome the garden, they're digging up all our leeks, and for just a second there's a look on his face like he might suggest they just do it right here in the garden, but he doesn't. He doesn't offer to help, either. He scoops Harry up, takes him off to build a castle with the blocks she's always somehow stepping on. She zaps the gnomes with disproportionate venom and spends most of the afternoon outside.

This life looks so much like what she'd imagined, little cottage, ivy climbing round the door, kitten and baby and husband cuddled up in the big downy bed, but it feels so different—like when you look at a photograph and your face is asymmetrical and weird, different from the mirror, familiar but wrong. These curtain-twitching, lay-low, you're joking me Mad-Eye he's been a mate since forever days of known unknowns and unknown unknowns and nightmares, constantly, of being chased; worse, almost, this ennui of stuffing nappies down the overflowing bin and picking up the hundred socks James somehow peels off daily.

When she was a girl, the morning glory on the chain-link fence used to turn their purple faces to follow her. She still remembers, and sometimes recites in her head, the fussy formulas for wolfsbane, veritaserum, the little trick for making a paste of aconite with the side of her knife.

Even Petunia, these days, is leaving her boy with a sitter and going to cocktail parties, holidays by the sea—that's what Mum said in her very last letter, anyway. She sounded so proud. Lily used to think she'd done well for herself, pulled off quite a trick, married for love and got money in the bargain, but now she might as well be in some pebbledash in Cokeworth, sweeping the kitchen lino. At least she'd get to go out to the shops.

Ten scouring charms later, she can still feel the grit of cereal bits when she runs her nails over the wall. The wallpaper's going discoloured, there, and it's hard to tell anymore what's paisley and what's Pablum. Lily half-remembers a story she read, or maybe heard about, where a woman falls ill and goes spare looking at the wallpaper in her sickroom. The thing is, Lily can't imagine being bedridden, going mad. Who has the time? Who would do the laundry?

I feel like a waste of talent, she whispers to James that night, in that shifting awkwardness before sleep, when she's wondering if he'll reach for her and trying to decide if she wants him to. This time he does: slides his hand down her arm and interlocks his fingers with hers.

You're not a waste of anything, he tells her. He presses a kiss to her neck and then buries his nose in the hair behind her ear. After a minute: This isn't a waste. It's like school. Like detention. We just have to get through it so we can go on with life.

I never got detention, she says.

Well, I'm sorry. You missed a lot of fun.

Lily snorts.

Seriously, James says. Maybe I'm just stir-crazy, but I actually miss it.

You just miss chatting shit with Sirius.

Well yeah, all right? But I miss those times. Even the boring, shitty times. One of these days—

Lily rolls her eyes. Oh, stop.

—No, let me finish, one of these days Harry will be off at school and we'll be moaning, oh, I miss when he was just little, getting peas in the carpet—

You're not the one cleaning up the peas.

Well, you're better at that sort of thing. But I do about three-quarters of the nappies.

Lily sucks her teeth. That's true.

See, he says, sounding delighted. We agree!

Harry and the kitten are both snoring, and five minutes later, James is too. When Lily finally closes her eyes, the paisley-swirls and speckles are there inside her eyelids.

#jily #lily potter #james potter #harry potter

[persage]

Can't Say It Back-S. HARRINGTON

Summary: At eighteen, Steve Harrington has learned how to really love someone. That someone it's not you. At nineteen, Steve Harrington breaks your heart and this time you hope it will be the last (six moments that led to this)

Words Count: 4k

Tags: Mentions of dyslexic!Steve - Set before Season 4 (currently thinking about doing a part 2)

Seven years old Steve Harrington has big brown eyes, a beautiful backpack and finally his first friend: Y/n Cunnigham. Tommy doesn't count, he is more like family and neither does his babysitter Becca, even if he really really loves her. He has discovered his mum pays her to be with him and that doesn't sound like something a friend should do. But Y/n, she's brand new. You sit next to him at school and compliment him when he does every stupid little thing. You help him when he can't write something correctly cause you are clever and play with him even if you don't like basketball. That makes him happier than ever. He shares his box of crayons with you 'cause he likes the way you draw and sometimes he steals jewels from his mom and gives them to you. Steve doesn't read  well, sometimes words and letters just don't make sense him, they all mix with each other and it's a mess. When he has to read in class, you hold his hand so he doesn't give up.

Nine years old Steve Harrington sits next to someone else even if you keep waiting for him. "You're finally with the cool ones Harrington." Tommy says. Steve looks you in the eye intensely before laughing. You get mad and you hate him, 'cause you know him well enough to recognize that he is just pretending to be someone else and you are clever enough to understand that he grew up before you, even if it's not fair, even if it's too early. In class now he doesn't even try to read aloud anymore, Tommy and the others would make fun of him and you're not there to hold his hand.

At eleven you and Steve share math class. He is no good with numbers and so are you. You pass your time drawing as he looks around laughing with his friend. You both need help from a tutor to pass every test and have this obsession with math being useless, something invented just to make some people feel better then others. That's the only thing you have in common lately. So your professor pairs you up, assigns you more homeworks and somehow expects you to just magically get along and help each other. And you try, 'cause at least you undestand something about numbers, you just don't like studying them. "You're doing it wrong, you need to do the calculations in parentheses first." 

"You're not my boss y/n. " 

"I'm not trying to be. It's just math Harrington... and you are doing it wrong." On opposite sides of the same table, you keep working on your assignment and he won't give you a red pen, even if he has one that he doesn't need. So you laugh when you see him fail again. "Yeah...it's math and you suck too at it." He replies without even looking at you, eyebrows arched in an angry.and maybe at least a little bit - hurt expression. "But you suck more". He pauses, finally his eyes are on you and you think he is ugly and stupid, like every other boy your age. "Sorry" He murmurs, smiling lightly. Now he is not that ugly anymore. You shrug. "It's fine."

"You were right" He confesses. "I'm doing it wrong." 

"I know, Steve." You reply, proudly. "You're not stupid, why are you here?" He asks. You look at him bewildered. "And why are you?"  

"Because I'm stupid, Y/n." You would like to tell him that it is not true, that you don't like hearing these things. That he is intelligent, it's the others who don't know how to explain things to him in the right way. Instead you sit in heavy silence, flipping through pages of your book, cause in the end he still hasn't give you the red pen and he doesn't share his crayons with you anymore just like he doesn't share anything else.

At thirteen you are Steve Harrington's first kiss, even if it doesn't count cause it's just a stupid game at stupid Tommy Hagan's birthday party and you've complained from the moment the bottle of destiny - as Carol calls it- has chosen you two. "It's Harrington." You protest putting on a disgusted expression, because deep down you don't want anyone to see your embarrassment or the blush on your cheeks and you're terrified that your heartbeat could be heard even at distance. "I really have to do this? "

"Believe me, I don't want to kiss you either Cunnigham. There are way prettier girl in this room" You roll your eyes and he notices you do this a lot when he is around. "I'm not kissing him." You state. He is even uglier now, with little hairs on the chin and under the nose that he likes to call a beard. "It's a game Y/n you have to follow the rules" Tommy intervenes. "Not everyone knows how to play fair" Harrington comments. His words sound like a challenge, his face morphs into a grin and -again- you hate him. All eyes are on you and your friends are taking bets. Your eyes flit down to his lips for just one moment, then you get closer and he can't really believe this is actually happening. He waits for you to take a step back untill he can feel you hot breath on his own mouth. He keeps staring right past your shoulder where Tommy is laughing hard, He is afraid he will lose himself if his eyes met yours and then everybody would understand the horrible truth: Steve Harrington wants to kiss Y/n Cunnigham. Your lips meet without even realizing, a bit hesitant but soft. It's chaste, a simple touch of wet lips, steady hands, open eyes yet it's everything you've ever dreamed of, a stupid boy kissing you without even wanting to. None of this should matter, but...the boy is Steve Harrington of all the people, so you care. 

At sixteen, Tina has organized the most amazing birthday party: a camping night in the woods with tends and wine, cans of beer, music and even a bonfire. It's something you've never done before and you are way too excited. It's been a good day so far and for once in your life you want to do something wrong. More than usual. When Tina offers you a cup full of cheap wine, you drink it all in one sip and immediately fill another glass only to throw that down perhaps too quickly.  "Don't we have something stronger? " You ask. A guy you don't know makes you some fruity drink and the two of you stand close, he caress your hand as you take your cup with a loose smile. From faraway, behind the bonfire's flames, Steve Harrington smiles at you, raised eyebrow. It's stupid but it makes your heart stops and you suddenly feel warm. He his not the same as the kid you've kissed once, he is grown and it's no a coincidence that they call him King Steve now. He is the most charming boy at school, funny, handome, cool and you can't help but feel something for him, you can't even find a name for that emotion. It's an old affection and a stubborn bitterness, cause somewhere along the way you lost him and now you can only be a little part of his life when you used to be his all world. Everyone is talking too loudly,  breathing in smoke, singing, dancing. People start slipping away slowly, disappearing in pairs or groups, holding hand or already kissing like nobody else is there. He moves closer to you. King Steve sees you alone, sitting there, and when you feel his body so near you pull your gaze away from the campfire and focus on him, the way the light defines the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, and the highpoints of his cheeks. He's perfect. "You shouldn't be here all alone Cunnigham. It's a party"

"I'm partying" You reply, showing him you cup full of alcohol. "What a funny girl, life of the party" He is sarcastic, and you know it, but you still smile. "I am, just not with everyone. Not everybody deserves me"

"Guess who'll be lucky enough."

"Not you, Harrington." He shakes his head, takes your cup and drink it all. He needs liquid courage, you stir him un and he can't help but feel this need of being near you and it had hirt him for so long it's driving him insane yet he never manages to really be with you, he just stand there somewhere between your friends. You go out with the same people and in the same places, but maybe that's not enough for him anymore. He laughs. "Obviously, you hate me."

"You've dumped me"You reply, hiding your smile. "I was nine, Y/n"

"Still haven't heard you say sorry." You get closer, blinking and putting on a puppy expression. "Sorry, really, I didn't mean to broke your tiny baby heart" He moves is hands dramatically and it's funny,  it feels so right to be with him, to play together like children. "Mhh seven years late Stevie boy" After an embarrassing silence, you dedice to ask what you've been secretly questioning all night. "So where's Paula?" You know, just like everybody, that Steve Harrington doesn't have real releshionships, but still you wanna hear it with you ears. You wanna hear that the girl he's been seen kissing at the cinema it's nothing more than one of the many. It's stupid, maybe even bad, not feminist at all but... You can't help but feel that way. And you are way to drunk to be ethical. "I don't know, I don't care... She's not really my problem. "

"And that means...?" Steve rolls his eyes, leaning a little too close to you. "I think you know what that means, Y/n. You know me" He pauses, staring at you. "I don't know you Steve. I know the child Steve Harrington, not King Steve."

"It's not that different. "

"It is, like a lot" You breathe out, the air around you has never felt warmer, Steve Harrington never as unfamiliar as he is now. "I'm still him, the same boy who adored you." His eyes scan your face, they are everywhere, following imaginary roads on your skin and you lean on, your nose touching.  You feel like you're floating somewhere between a memory and a dream. "You're such a good liar Harrington." So you kiss him, lips on his, as you smile. You move away before he can reciprocate. "Y/n, what are you doing?" He is breathless, confused and excited. "Nothing"  You reply, laughing. He lets his fingers help through your hair, grab your head and gently brings you closer to him again. "I enjoy this nothing"

At eighteen, Steve Harrington has learned how to really love someone. That someone it's not you. And you are not really surprised cause it's always been so difficult between you two, bad timing and complications, silence and pride. So, eighteen years old Steve Harrington who knows how to love someone else - the most perfect girl in the whole universe if that makes it any better - it's your first time among the other things. And even if the premises are not the best, to tell the truth you could not imagine someone else in his place. He shows up at your door one day in  the November of your senior year of high school. His face is swollen, his skin marked by blows, bruised he looks like someone who hasn't slept for too long. He rings at your door, regardless of the possibility that your parents will open, but luckily you are the one to do it. "Oh my god" Is all you can say. "Steve." You whisper, your hands shake, you place fingers on his warm skin. You haven't really spoken to each other from your kiss, nothing more than superficial conversations from acquaintances and no reference to your situation, of any kind. You are friends, perhaps and now he is in your home. He moves his head even closer to you, like a cat. "What happened to you?" You are scared. He looks at you for a while as if he is thinking about what to tell you or how to do it. "Nothing special, just a bad encounter with Hargrove"

"That bastard."

"Don't worry, really. I don't even know why I'm here"

As he's sitting on your bed he tells you about Billy's threats to Lucas and that he got beaten up for those kids, you have the feeling that something is missing, a piece of the story, but you say nothing and you keep applying ice to his wounds. "I wasn't the hero they needed ... Max had to think about it in the end" "Steve, Lucas would probably be in hospital if you weren't there. You're their hero, heroes don't always win ... Especially when bad guys smash a plate in their head." He puts his hand on yours and strokes you with his thumb, leaving you speechless and breathless. You don't know what's going on, you just know you don't want to be anywhere else. "I don't know what to do without you" You close your eyes, trying to calm your heart before making reckless gestures. "Steve" Your voice is thin. "What are you doing here?" You ask "I needed to see you ... I didn't want ... To be alone" He confesses, sincerely, letting his fingers run down your neck.

"Why me Steve? You should be with her ... Nancy"

"We broke up" he replies, you see a flash of suffering pass in his eyes but you decide to ignore it. "I'm sorry"

"But I'm here because I wanted to be here, with you. Not because we broke up. "

It makes your heart flutter You shouldn't care, this is all wrong, yet you want to pretend for a moment that you are different people entirely. He is not Steve, not Nancy Wheeler's ex boyfriend, not you childhood friend. His lips are on you neck. His lips are on your lips. He's breathing out your name like it's his religion. His warm skin against yours all that matters now.

"Are you s.. " He starts, breathless, his eyes flitting up and down your face, to your lips, always back to your lips. "I'm sure. I am " You cut in, gently. He leans in again and you do the same and God, you think while he undo your bra, his expert mouth kisses your breast  and plays with your nipples. It's Steve Harrington, its always been Steve Harrington.

Nineteen years old y/n Cunningham says I love to a guy who can't say it back. You are back from college, on vacation you tell people, never going back you think. You always thought you know what you want, what you can do, who you want to be. But here you are, back at Howinks, lost and absolutely not ready to face your ex. You and Steve have been together for a short period after your first time, but again bad timing and too much insecurities made your relationship a living hell.

You had to go to college, he wasn't even accepted. Obviously it wasn't a problem for you. It was for him. "You deserve someone better" He'd whispered before letting you go, kissing tears away from your cheeks. You meet him again on your birthday, you have been in town for a few days and you decide to go and see the new shopping center, Starcourt mall, with your little sister Chrissy. Harrington wears a ridiculous uniform and despite this you can't help but find him handsome and sweet, you have to count to ten to not rush to hug him. He walks towards the parking  next to a girl, dressed exactly like him. You've seen her a few times at school. He looks at her with admiration, Dustin is with them and he laughs with her.  You can't help but feel your heart breaking. "Sorry I forgot to tell you, he works here." You don't reply and try to hide before they see you. "Y/n" Dustin's voice surprises you. It's too late. With a quick run Steve reaches you while you walk away. "Y/n wait!" You turn to him, trying to smile.

"Hey, Steve. How are you?"

"You're back" His voice is soft, he's studying you carefully. "Just for a little while" You hide your shaking hands behind your back. "Now I have to go" You tell him, running away before he can see you cry.

It happens a few days later. News of the Starcourt fire spreads in Hawkins quickly. And so you run and run, the car doesn't even seem to go fast enough. When you arrive, ambulances are everywhere and you can't see Steve. Filled with panic, your eyes shoot around the parking lot, gaining a worried glance from Steve's coworker who's sitting in the back of a truck. You keep looking around for any sign of the boy, your stomach churns as you begin to think of every possible thing that could've happened to him, tears begin to pool in your eyes. The girl who works with Steve places a hand on your shoulder, "Y/n?" You turn to face her. "You..."

"Yes, of course I know you. Steve talks a lot about you." She says. She'a mess, she's got bruises on her face and arms and she seems like about to break down, so you put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze it lightly to comfort her. "Are you okay...?"

"Robin, I'm Robin and yes, thank you. I'm okay, we all are" You smile, keep searching for Steve. You need to see him, to know if he really is okay. "Looking for somebody?" You can't bring yourself to answer, but it doesn't matter because Robin speaks up once again, "He is over there, see." Your head snaps forward, locking eyes with Steves. You run to him,  quick to close the remaining distance between you, wrapping your arms around his body. He lets out a quiet cry and circles his arms around your waist. "Sorry.. Sorry are you hurt?" You ask, your face buried in his chest. He shakes is head. "I'm okay" His voice is raught and he trembles

"I-I thought... "  You cry. "I'm fine I'm fine baby. Shit, I'm so glad you're here," He holds onto you tighter, almost as if he believes you would  disappear if he lets go even for a second. You don't know what has really happened or what he has seen but you do the same thing, feeling in the exact same way: like you almost lost him for real. A relieved sob escapes your mouth as he leans back to gaze at you, taking in every inch of you face. Now you can fully see him to. He has been beaten, no fire - nothing but human hands- can do such a terrible thing. His face is a mess. "What... Steve what is this?" 

"It's nothing." He replies, but his eyes are lost in a memory, distant and hurt. You caresses his damaged skin with all the delicacy and the dedication you have." Stop saying that Stevie, this is important. You are. Who did is to you? Fire don't do such things." He let's out a sob, the kind of sob so heart wrenching it hurts you to hear. He feel like he can't breathe, he can't focus on anything else besides the Russians beating him, the fear of dying and the fact he couldn't protect Robin and he have sold Dustin to them and they almost died cause he wasn't good enough to protect them. And its all hell and he can't tell you, cause he can't let you get involved with this shit. All he can smell is the blood, there's so much blood - his own, Hargrove's one, the flayed one. He doesn't really know - and smoke. He doesn't even realize how badly he's shaking until a steady and warm arm wraps around his shoulder again soon. You are the only thing that's keeping him calm. "It's okay. Y-You're okay." You his his forehead. He hugs and pull you closer, burying his head into your chest, tears and blood leaving stains on your shirt. "Stevie what happened?" You ask again. He shakes his head. "I don't wanna talk about it, not now." When he calms down you can't stop staring at him. He's right there in front of you and he is all you ever wanted, all you will ever need in life and you can't let him go, not again. "What" He finally says, a half laugh caught in his throat, a smile forming on his face. "I love you" You say simply, like it's this obvious thing. This easy thing. You love him. You love the fact that his eyes feel like summer and sun, everything about him shines like a million stars and he can make you laugh and show you a way of seeing things in life nobody else will ever think about. He looks at you in disbelief. "I love you too" That's what he wants to say. He has loved you since he was a stupid kid, and maybe you are the only one he has ever really loved. Not Nancy. Not Robin. He was searching for you in them, in the way they talk, in the way their brains work, in the intelligence and the way they never take him seriously. It never felt the same anyway. You love him and that's the most beautiful - heartbreaking- thing ever cause he can't say it back. He can't. He has one job: to protect you, the only way for keeping you away from all this mess is for you to be as far away as possible from this haunted city and from him. Even if it seems to be over and maybe they've really won this time... How can he be sure?  They always think they can live their happy ever after but then there's always a new monster, a new danger to fight. People've died, this time way more than the others. Innocent people like you, living their life as always, not stupid kids who've decided to play the hero against the Upside Down. Maybe if he tells you the truth you would be safer, he could protect you, and for a moment it seems to be a great option, but now you live miles and miles away and in his heart he knows he must let you go. Even if it kills him. So he doesn't say it back, he just kisses you, trying to impress in his memory the taste of you lips, the softness of your skin and the perfume of your hair. Tomorrow will be another day and he will do what is neded. He will push you away forever, he will make you hate him.

"You don't love me" You say slowly. carefully. You don't know what to say, you could have believed it maybe when you they were nine or thirteen, or even seventeen even, now, though,  you've been stupid enought to let yourself fall for a childish fantasy in which Steve Harrington acutally loved you. He blinks over you, trying to stop tears from coming. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry but I don't I... Care. But I don't love you... I'm in love with someone else." That's the most difficult thing he has ever done in his life.  He has to pretend, pretend like there's no possibility for the future, but  he doesn't want to live in a world where he doesn't need you.  "Robin?" You ask, shaking. He nods, cause he doesn't know what to do or say. You smile. "She seems pretty cool" You reply, sobbing. "For a moment... I thought you..."

"It was egoistic but I wanted her here and... I've settled for you cause you were there" You close your eyes and back out of his bedroom- where you have spent the night with him, taking care of his wounded body, watching his restless sleep, calming him down during nightmares - and you walk down the stairs. He doesn't follow you. At nineteen, Steve Harrington breaks your heart and this time you hope it will be the last.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #jim hopper #st4 #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #steve harrington x y/n #robin and steve #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #steve stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #Jim hopper #Angst #Hurt comfort #Stranger things #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson fanfic #reader insert

[doodle17]

New Psychonauts oc just dropped fam

I'm about to show yalls the most f*cked up guy I've ever created

"Ah, Mr. Aquato. I'm glad you could make it. I've been waiting for a chance to Break Your Mind."

SO this is Tony Bridger 😬👍 that one absolutely irredeemable scumbag OC I've vaguely talked about. I guess I should get into his morals 'n backstory and yadda yadda yadda yadda

Basically, his Father created a machine that could send brainwaves or something like that, to control people. It was his life's work. Of course this was no good, so the Psychonauts were sent in to stop him. It was Sasha Nein himself in fact, who destroyed the machine. They never caught Mr. Bridger, as he took the young Tony and they went off the grid.

After his greatest invention was destroyed, the blueprints and notes all gone, Mr. Bridger went insane. It broke him, and he fell into madness. Tony tried his best to help the broken shambles of a man he knew as his father, but the poor kid was to young to be able to do anything.

Eventually, Mr. Bridger killed himself accidentally. He had stumbled onto some train tracks, got knocked out, and then a train came and ran over his unconscious body. The only family Tony had, which was already broken, was now gone. As if the insanity was infectious, Tony's mind seemed to break as well.

Its was those Psychonauts fault! It was that Agents fault! If they hadn't intervened, he'd still have a father. He didn't care if he took over the world, burned it to the ground. The only man he had to take care of him was gone, and it was all their fault.

So Tony's next plan, was to take action on how to help himself cope. In the worst. Way. Imaginable.

Since the age 14 he's been perfecting this twisted method. He somehow manged how to astrally project someone without a Psy-portal or a Brain Tumbler, and pull them into his mind. This is where the fun stuff starts

As if he's been working on it months, he's able to dig around your subconscious, find people you love, hate, respect, it doesn't matter, and twist and deform them into monsters to torment and torture you. He can create mental constructs in a matter of seconds somehow, with puzzles and monster so insane and so vile, any person who he drags into his mind...

Goes Mad.

When he was 20, he was discovered practicing this disgusting and ominous way of torment, and was thrown into one of the biggest prisons/insane asylum for Psychics ever. That thing, around his neck, is basically a psy-lock, but more powerful, and it gives you the nastiest shock anytime you try to use your powers.

He's not very worried about his position, however. In fact, he's actually quite happy he was thrown in there. Why, you may ask? Because this means he closer to the top agents. The ones who ruined his life in the first place.

Sasha, Milla, Coach, Lili and Raz have to go and try to find a way removed Tony's Brain from his body to be sedated, without having anything bad go wrong, but of course, bad things do, in fact, go wrong.

Because how do you get revenge on the very Agent who broke the one you cared most about?

By breaking one of the people they care about most as well, of course!

Oh yeah, the angst is strong with this one *rubs hands together deviously*

Yeah, I wanna try and make a fic or somthing with this guy soon. It'll be fun! Angsty, graphic, depressing and violent fun~

Sorry for the long post btw I've just been thinking about this guy's backstory a lot. Trying to make him sound evil, but with an actual reason to be

#Yeah I've already gotten multiple scenes n stuff for a fic #If I ever make one #It'll probably be the darkest thing I've written #For a goofy game #About psychic kids- #Maybe I should tone it down a bit actually... #Doodle88 #Psychonauts #Psychonauts oc #razputin aquato #lili zanotto #milla vodello #sasha nein #coach oleander #psychonauts fanfiction

[metvmorqhoses]

This is a letter submitted to me by the previous anon. I was left nothing short of appalled by it. In a few paragraphs this person managed to take everything I ever said on this blog about art, literature, gender, ethics, or even myself as a person, twist it to their own biased and, quite frankly, worrying perspective and use it to accuse me of being, at best, a Nazism and antisemitism apologist.

I’m very open minded, I’m able to understand most point of views even without sharing them, but this is another matter entirely. This is being unable to read reality correctly anymore. This is dangerously and hurtfully spinning things out of proportion. This is being unable to form a pure critical thought in a reality that is already mad and confusing enough.

I read extensively in the past few years about the plummeting of comprehension of the written word among all demographics, but that an educated peer of mine, mirror and parrot of too many others, could genuinely reason like this will always be beyond me.

Anon, you are right. I wouldn’t normally publish or entertain such profound drivel, but the things you just accused me of are not only absurd, but beyond serious and grave. You cannot throw such ideas and words so lightly at another human being, especially not inventing yourself every single reason for doing it.

So I’m going to answer, word to word, in the hopes to make you, or at least someone else, wake up from the horrors of a brainwasing this society is, at this point, irremediably affected by.  

“i do not think that your response to me displays “good disposition”, so i will be sure to match you in tone. you do not have to answer this, or even read it; i hope that you will read it though, if only to momentarily consider someone else’s perspective. quoting you verbatim from a previous ask/answer, “I absolutely hate to contradict the canon”. you’re right, the original books don’t glorify nazism, mostly the new content does. however, you say voldemort is the true hero. he is driven to exterminate specific groups of people for his personal gain. whatever depth you want to give him, that is still canon. you don’t deny it. you might not find it the most interesting part of him, but it is still there, and you still call him hero.

i and many others will never know most of our families because of a man and his followers who worked exactly like that. so don’t think of this as me trying to cancel you. i will not be reaching out to your friends or trying to get you banned from anywhere, that’s not what i’ve come directly to you for. i’d like to know what it is about two blood supremacists that you see not only so much inspiring complexity in, but yourself in as well.”

Honestly anon, considering what you are accusing me of, the hinting of which I had already perceived in your previous ask, my disposition towards you was and still is way better than it should be. I’m taking pity of your way of thinking and still hoping to somehow help you understand how wrong this is on every possible level.

I’m very glad you seem to agree the Harry Potter books are no Nazi hymn, but I unfortunately have to contradict you right away. I never, ever, glorified Voldemort’s figure or called him “the true hero of the story”. If you had taken the time to actually read the things the person you are accusing of terrible and very real things has always written about that fictional character, you would have noticed the whole point of my metas is, on the contrary, to underline his twistedness, his monstrous and yet very present humanity, his unfillable voids, his abysses in negative with still a wisp of something else enduring nonetheless.

You would also have noticed that I’m utterly uninterested in and rarely mention the blood-purity movement, not because I think there’s something literary wrong in constructing fictional evil after Nazism (nor, again, do I think there’s anything wrong in finding Nazism intriguing as an historical event and as a study of human nature), but because, as I previously tried to make you understand, I find it psychologically uninteresting in regard to him and not what his character is fundamentally about.

You also just took an ask in which I said I’d have liked to rewrite Harry Potter with Voldemort as the real protagonist (protagonist, not hero, the difference is huge - I linked it for you), and twisted it to construct this huge delusion about my preaching the bloodthirsty ideology of an evil wizard from a fairy tale. Voldemort went around even repeatedly trying to kill a child, why not accusing me of seconding infanticide too, since you are at it? Or seeing antisemitism everywhere is your main fixation since it touches you closely?

I would never call Voldemort a hero, and you know why? Because it would be incredibly dull. Voldemort is a villain. I appreciate him precisely as such. I’m not interested in finding his actions (at least not his monstruosities) correct or admirable, it wouldn’t be riveting. What makes villains compelling is their darkness. And this is because, most importantly, unlike all the people you are mentioning, Voldemort is the bad guy in a children book. Voldemort is not real. His darkness has no consequence whatsoever.

As for why I find Voldemort and Bellatrix compelling, if you had bothered to read my writings before accusing me of absurdities, you’d already have your answer. You’d know that it’s their character as people and mutual relationship that I find intriguing, not their ideology.

As to why I said I see myself in them, those are personal reasons I would never disclose to someone who cannot seem to count to ten, let alone understand utter complexity of certain childhood circumstances or unusual personalities, but (even if it’s obvious, even if I stated it multiple times for the thick idiots in the back) it’s obviously not their fictional murderous/blood-purist/unicorn-blood-licking tendencies I see myself, a real person, in.

I equally see myself in Dorian Gray, Heathcliff and Catherine, Frankenstein’s monster. I trust no sane person would believe I’m inciting the masses to make deals with the devil, traumatize children or set the world on fire out of spite towards human nature (even if the latter is tempting and people like you are making it even more so, I would admit).

“i am not always just an anon on the internet. i am a real person with a real family, real experience with antisemitism and racism in my everyday life. real books i like to read, real foods i like to enjoy, real fears and angers and excitements about the changes i’m seeing in politics and in the public these days. i am, in real life, affected by the ease with which some of my own friends can tell me “jews control the media” just because they’ve heard it on tv enough, from movies or talking heads or whoever.”

As it so happens, I’m a real person just as well. You don’t know anything about me. You for example don’t know that my grandmother spent World War II with real Nazis invading her very home, robbing her of everything and using her farm as a militar base. You don’t know the story of my family, you don’t know that I share many, too many, concerns and fears about the world we are currently living in too and I’m genuinely sorry about what you have to go through, because even without being Jewish I know something about it first hand. But this doesn’t give you the right to behave how you are behaving. You are in fact being just part of the big cultural problem you are denouncing. You are going after innocent people, judging them out of invented nothing. Even if you are surrounded by ignorant and racist people for real (I wonder to what extent, since you seem to highly exaggerate things), this doesn’t mean you have to blindly assume the whole world conforms to it by default, twisting everything you see to make it about you and your current, perhaps justified, fixations.

“consider also that you are a woman. you’ve said you don’t feel very strongly about any part of your visible identity, which is fine. but others around you likely perceive you as a woman. you will be treated differently by different people based on how they perceive you. you have to exist in the context of the world around you whether you want to or not. do you call it activism or wokeness to tell someone off for treating you poorly because you’re a woman, or do you call it standing up for yourself? now what if that person is andrew tate or jordan peterson, whose sexism reaches and influences many, many people around you? telling them or their parrots to think before they speak is not being woke. that’s recognizing a lack of respect and responding to it appropriately to shut it down before it gets worse.“

Again, you took something I said and completely failed to understand its meaning. I never said “I don’t feel very strongly about any part of my visible identity”. I actually feel my womanhood deeply, to extents you couldn’t imagine. What I said is that I don’t care to conform to this, in my opinion quite pathological, trend of labeling everything you are and put it on display for the world to see and use, in the hopes of creating an ever-more vacillating sense of identity, belonging and validation. I firmly believe everyone has the absolute right to be true to themselves and I have no problem embracing anyone who wants to intruduce themselves with a ten minutes-long list of pronouns, gender, sexuality, heath-status, ethnicity and religious beliefs, but this is not something I’ll be ever taking part of, nor the kind of circus I’d like the world to turn into, merely because for some reason I feel like this is more a show (a dangerous one, too) than a real quest towards inner truth.

Calling out idiocy is not being woke, anon. I confirm. Not agreeing with powerful people spreading dangerous ideas is one thing, making up the 99% of those terrible crimes in order to have a scapegoat for your witch hunts is another thing entirely.

“so why can’t i criticize your purposeful decision to deify a character who can all too easily become a model for others who want to take their hero worship of people like him further than tumblr?”

Because you are making this “deification” entirely up, anon. And the fact that you cannot seem to understand this simple fact is very concerning. If I preached Voldemort’s blood-purity ideology, you would have every right to criticize me. You are even totally entitled to have opinion about others tastes. You are not entitled though to make things up to further your own ideologies and worldviews and you should actually be capable, fairly educated as you are, to understand what you read.

“i guess i am not judging you for the art you enjoy, but the way in which you talk about it. people who are actually affected by these views have to be most wary when decent, intelligent people begin to repeat and think them. unfortunately, for my family, this was indeed the way real life worked in the 30s/40s. their kind, smart, beloved neighbors could still turn on them after being exposed to enough nazi propaganda, to films and papers and gossip. and now i have to feel like this in the present day because it is media like this, which “minorities” like us have always, always made our worries clear about (you can’t tell me discussion of cho chang’s name or the subtext of sex-aware staircases is new, because i was around to see when it began), which seeps into good people’s brains and creates opportunities for them to turn on us. this is why white supremacists and fascists use dogwhistles, why they won’t speak the quiet part out loud and will use whatever media they can to further their message under the radar.”

“The way I talk about it” is not at all what you are describing lol If you had actually taken the time to read what I wrote you would have (I hope) noticed.

Oh, yes. Calling a character “Cho Chang” is a terrible crime against humanity. Entire generations of children are traumatized. Also, oh my! Sex-aware staircases! Call the police!

No, anon. Good people don’t let anything seep into their brains and “turn on you”. Good people are good people. People that out of the blue, only because society validates them, turn against fellow human beings, for whatever reason, weren’t good people in the first place. Ideologies give permission for the real self to show, they don’t create anything from scratch.

“analyzing media is about opening your eyes to the context in which it sits. i’m afraid, and i think you’ll agree, that critical analysis skills are degrading on a mass scale these days.“

Yes lol I deeply and absolutely agree.

“i’m afraid that these books have always contained subtle problems, but those of us who were affected by them did not have such a free internet to express ourselves and were otherwise shouted down by fans at the time. i’m afraid that these books have always existed in a context in which antisemitism, racism, and xenophobia have only been on the rise. i’m afraid that someone like you, who is writing a novel, who has some reach now and who may gain even more of a following in the future, who touts herself as not only intelligent but a lover of ethics, may end up contributing, whether you intend to or not, to the mass of people who will turn around to hurt people like me.

i can understand the notion that voldemort simply used a preexisting Other that he despised anyway to further his own drive for power. lots of scholars would say hitler did the exact same thing. my question for you is not even why you see yourself in that, because i suppose it is understandable as a strategy to get yourself support for something by finding like minds already headed the same direction. but the key point there is like minds. no, my question is, why do you call him the hero?

not protagonist. not something akin to humbert humbert per nabokov’s original purpose.

hero.

a: a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability

b: an illustrious warrior

c: a person admired for achievements and noble qualities

d: one who shows great courage

at this point, it isn’t the harry potter books that praise nazi ideology and strategy. it is you. even if you don’t see it that way, i’m here to tell you that i can interpret your words this way, and if i can, then others can too.”

Apart from telling you, again, you are completely making up this way of mine of praising Voldemort as a hero and that you should probably read other people’s writings before judging them, allow me to “tout myself as intelligent” once again, and enlighten you with a banal fact.

Media, fiction, art is for the most part a mirror of who is consuming it. The fact that you can interpret, as you are doing, my words completely wildly, incorrectly, insultingly, tells a lot more about you than about me. If a person isn’t able to apply critical skills to what they are reading, again as you are doing, they are going to find exactly what they want to find in anything. Mind creates reality and you are a marvelous example of it.

It’s the same old debate about morality and amorality in art. Not very intelligent people keep bringing it up again and again through the eras, but the truth about it doesn’t change. I can use a knife to surgically save a life, cut bread or kill a person. None is inherent fault or merit of the knife, but of the hand who wields it.

I remember distinctly when Hannibal came out, the woke police wanted it cancelled because it romanticized murder and cannibalism. Everyone was afraid people would have gone out eating each other. What happened instead is that no raise in cannibalism was detected. Cannibals became cannibals regardless, perhaps feeling a little more represented in media. Decent people remained decent people. I hope you get my hint. Nazism didn’t become Nazism when writings of the Golden Dawn came out, talking about the superior race. Nazism became Nazism when a government used those writing as the mass excuse to unleash the most basic and terrible instincts of humanity to further its own political and economical ends.

I guess your vision of the world, in which the big evil blogger on Tumblr is going to write a new novel without perpetually denouncing every other word everything problematic anyone could possibly read in it and the good people around you will suddenly turn to eat you against their will because brainwashed by my subtle suggestions, could be a quite childish way to justify somehow a world that terrifies you, in which evil isn’t banal and everywhere, but has a tangible and therefore preventable reason.

I’m sorry, but the roots of persecution are as old as human nature, and you actually could even find something really akin to them in your own behaviour if you look very closely.

“in your response to me, you have strung together many lengthy ways of telling me what a brainless lemming i must be for having concerns about how people analyze media, but you couldn’t manage even the simplest ‘i do not support nazism’ after saying you find the history interesting. it’s not your interest that concerns me, but your inability, or perhaps unwillingness, to just confirm that interest is where it ends. unless you deliberately, explicitly, and vehemently deny this, others will continue to misinterpret you. you might be tempted to say that this will only be an issue with people who aren’t as smart or literary as you. let me inform you now that i am at least “a normally intelligent and educated person”, as you put it. we’ve read all the same books. i enjoy a lot of the same media you do. yet i am still not confident you will clearly denounce nazism even now that you have been asked. now imagine that you have even one follower who cannot be described with your above quote. it only takes one misguided person to be the next john hinckley jr., or robert gregory bowers, or dylann roof, or so on. you care not about morality, but about ethics. consider the ethical ramifications of this kind of public hero worship of a character who so easily maps onto a real life perpetrator of genocide without some sort of discussion about him ultimately being wrong. do i think we should all have to disclaim that we don’t condone what villains do? no. do i think you should have to say it every single time you talk about the subject? no, of course not. but if i cannot find it anywhere on your blog, then it has to be said somewhere.”

I’m sorry anon, but after everything you just said I cannot help but conclude those same books on you had very little effect. Maybe try to read them again. I dread what you might have made out of them.

#lord voldemort #anon #asks/replies #villains #bellamort #jkr discourse #this is appalling from start to finish #hp

[stovepiperat]

yo pleaaaase tell me more about your post canon Hickey/Silna au

MAN you dont know how youve just activated my trap card. i think about this horrible ambitious thing—and it really would be, i think, way darker and more pure straight up horror than any terror fic ive written before which is part of why it is Not Coming To An AO3 Near You Any Time Soon lmao—i affectionately call it Silnahickey Worst End AU because it really does just suck so bad for everyone involved which is to say silna :((( ykw let me just paste the og post i made about it and add the snippet i tweeted. tw uhhh tuunbaq typical horrors

Re: The Terror - cravings 2021-12-15

Okay, this is like. INDEFENSIBLE, even by my Terrorshipping standards, but I kind of want Worst End Hickey/&Silna, where an absolutely horrible terrible turn of events has left the failed shaman with zero (0) Tuunbaq, a debt that the magic sought to pay (a... hole it had to fill, if you will) by providing her with the vastly inferior psychic connection with what's left of Hickey. I was trying to justify this want to myself and the best I could come up with was the sentence "I just don't think it's possible for her to respect a man less??" so, uh, yeah.

Just. Totally OTT grimdark icy bloody body horror and tragedy. Silna, still rocked with grief for the loss of her father and community and haunted by nightmares of the inventive gore the expedition ended in, dealing with a worse winter than usual, grimly being followed by a more-than-a-little feral and dead, spitting mad Hickey.

I think he ended up as kind of a Tuunbaq magic-corpsemeat combination at this point, like, he has one arm and some of Tuunbaq's memories and a really fucked-up teeth situation and he is never going to stop craving the taste of human flesh and thanks to Silna he is never going to get it again. They can only communicate with each other by thought. Hickey's loping gait is disturbing in a way that is maybe 50% zombie and 50% seems like this is the wrong number of limbs somehow. Eventually they figure out that he can turn into a bigger monster form and at least once Silna tries to set him on fire.

I feel too bad about this ultra-whump scenario if the timeframe is too long, so maybe eventually they settle into a dynamic that more or less works (no thanks to Hickey's best efforts.) Possibly a scene where Silna walks out into the dark and stands there for a moment, until a monstrous shape lurches out of the mists and drops a piece of game at her feet, and then an icy gust sweeps past, and it's Hickey, copiously scarred, unsmiling, kneeling in front of her with his mouth still bloody from the dead animal between them.

#mine #to tag better later #sorry #anyway. This

[grelitia-fam]

Things that have been said in the only in Gotham universe (with context): Hecate and Carol addition

Hecate first:

Hecate: I love the term 'partners'. Are we dating? Are we robbing a bank? Are we the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies and are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit? Who knows.

(When discussing their friends polyamorous relationship)

Hecate: My expectations are low, but they can always go lower.

(When talking about men)

Hecate: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

(Even Harley was surprised at all the shit Hecate went through)

Hecate: When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what the hell am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Hecate lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the person who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

(…never… ever leave Hecate alone at a collage party.. they will somehow always eat a spiked brownie)

Hecate: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

(After scaring their collage roommate one too many times)

Hecate, digging their grave: Long story short, this is my grave.......Want me to make you one too?

(Hecate when they learned that their parents were still alive)

Hecate: I'm a nice person, but I'm about to start throwing rocks at people.

(Hecate after being bullied one two many times)

Hecate: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

(Hecate when final exams come around/they have a lot of business orders)

Hecate: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

(This is just Hecates mood)

Carol version:

(Most of these can be described with drunk Carol, so any quotes with a ** means Carol was drunk when she said it)

Carol: Then either Sonic is a god or could kill god, and I do not care if there is a difference.

(**)

Carol: Clownery. Tomfoolery. Absolute fuckery, I am going to revoke your life privileges.

(Carol.. had a bad day at work)

Carol: Helpful grammar tip: “farther” is for physical distance, “further” is for methaphorical distance, and “father” is for emotional distance!

(Carol you’re not supposed to say this shit in therapy-)

Carol: *Takes a sip of milk and gags*

Carol: Oh my god, is this expired?

Carol: *Takes another sip of milk*

(**)

Carol: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.

Carol: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

(Carol… has many grudges)

Carol: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

(**)

Carol: Fruits that do not live up to their names; passionfruit, grapefruit, honeydew and dragonfruit.

Carol: Fruits that do live up to their names?

Carol: Orange.

(**)

Carol: I hate when people ask me, 'What did you do today?' Buddy listen, I woke up at noon and then it was five p.m., okay? I don't KNOW!

(Carol in therapy yet again)

Carol: I’ve never smoked marijuana. I ate a brownie once at a party. It was intense. It was kind of indescribable. I felt like I was floating. Turns out there was no pot in the brownie. It was just an insanely good brownie.

(**)

Carol: Yeah I'm LGBT.

Carol: cuLt leader.

Carol: God hates me personally.

Carol: cowBoy hat.

Carol: *sniffles* Trying my best.

(**)

Now I implore you to do this with your own Only in Gotham OCs (Bonus points if Hecate, Carol, Kam, or Daxter are mentioned)

#hecate houndson #only in gotham

[dragonthusiast]

The Nature of Magic sneak peak 1

I thought it might be fun to share some snippets from my current WIP and post them here. For the first one I'll share my so far favorite bit, my first trans character's coming out. It's been so fun getting to know Wyn as I write this series, and now he finally feels complete.

Anyway, here it is :)

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

Wyn’s smile grew into a small grin as slowly raised his head so he could properly look at Edwyr, his hair spilling out over his shoulder. Edwyr immediately got the urge to stroke it, but he resisted. For now, at least.

“Oh, an accident, you could say,” Wyn said, taking a breath to start telling Edwyr what he could already tell would be quite the story. It usually was, it seemed. “I was trying to see if I could….” Wyn paused, his smile ebbing a little as he looked down at the bedcovers. “I was trying to alter how I look. Not through illusions. Permanently. And, well, I thought changing the color of my eyes would be an easy steppingstone to reach. I chose an unnatural color simply to see if there were limits to what I could do.”

Wyn huffed out a laugh, once more looking amused. “Somehow I managed to change the color of my iris easily enough. But then I could not change it back. Or to any other color.” The elf shook his head. “To this day I still do not know what I did wrong. By the time I could control this kind of magic, I was used to my eyes being like this, and I simply decided to leave them be.”

His smile softened as his eyes found Edwyr’s again. “I think the color is quite becoming, wouldn’t you agree?”

Edwyr let out a small laugh, unable to resist it anymore. Wyn was far too charming. “Yes, it’s very striking.”

Wyn almost looked bashful then, ducking his head just a little and smiling to himself, as if Edwyr’s barely-there compliment had had profound impact on him. And Edwyr couldn’t lie, it did make his chest flutter to see Wyn reacting like this. It was so difficult to remember that the elf in bed with him was a very powerful, ancient sorcerer sometimes.

Though speaking of sorcery, Edwyr couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Wyn had changed about himself aside from the eyes. Why research such magic in the first place? Edwyr didn’t think the other elf was vain enough to learn something like this simply to make himself more attractive.

“Did you research that when you were trying to figure out how to make yourself stop aging?” asked Edwyr, this being the only connection he could think of. And sure, Wyn looked quite young, possibly too young to have discovered the key to immortality from Edwyr’s rather rudimentary understanding of how creating new spells and learning or even inventing entire types of magic. But surely there was more to this than Wyn simply making himself younger than he was at the time.

“Ah, not quite,” Wyn said, his smile gone all of a sudden. Edwyr tensed up, not liking the change of mood at all. “I…I told you I used to look quite different when I still lived on Aendor. Do you remember?”

Edwyr nodded, sitting up. It felt appropriate given how serious things were right now. Whatever Wyn was going to tell him, it was clearly no laughing matter. Wyn sat up as well, following Edwyr’s example, but sadly he didn’t scoot over so they would be sitting next to each other. Edwyr had wished that would be the case.

“Well, I was….” Wyn let out an annoyed sigh, shaking his head as if mad at himself for having a hard time saying whatever he wanted to. Edwyr reached out to put his hand on the other elf’s shoulder, but before he could reach, Wyn got up, beginning to pace around the bed. “The body I was born with was female.”

Edwyr’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it was certainly not that. That was so odd to wrap his head around. Edwyr didn’t have a problem with it, of course. It was simply difficult to comprehend because Wyn was a man, and anything else simply seemed strange and wrong.

“So you were born a woman, but you changed that through magic?” Edwyr asked, trying to make sense of this in his brain. This all sounded familiar to him for some reason. He immediately regretted saying this, though, when he saw the grimace on Wyn’s face. It was clear this was very difficult to him. Edwyr should have probably just given him time to continue.

“No, I…. No, that body never felt right. This one does.”

Edwyr nodded, but before he could say anything, Wyn started rambling, one hand rubbing his eyes as he continued pacing.

“I apologize. I should have told you this already, but it was so long ago. Sometimes, even I forget. My time on Aendor feels like little more than a dream sometimes. Something that was never real to begin with. But I am sorry. That is no excuse. And I am very sorry if this makes you uncomfortable because—”

Edwyr couldn’t listen to this anymore. Before he even knew it, he was on his feet, marching to Wyn only to grab him by the shoulders. For a split second he considered shaking him for good measure, but given how upset Wyn was that was unlikely to help, and so instead, Edwyr leaned in and softly pressed his lips against the other elf’s.

He could feel some of the tension draining out of Wyn’s shoulders as Edwyr pulled away. The elf still seemed a little distraught, but certainly less so than before.

“It’s okay, Wyn. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

#writing #writeblr #amwriting #original writing #writers of tumblr #original character #creative writing #trans character #wip #my writing

[gabenvrhappened]

TvShowsOr... WeCrashed

One scene in, and I was sold. The scene was of Anne Hathaway's character getting a guy fired because he was having a meeting in her office, while him and everyone else at that gathering was wearing shoes right on top of a white carpet. What seemed like a hilarious scene of a terrible boss with a terrible accent turned into something much bigger. I was sold on a wrong idea, but that's kind of genius when you realize what WeCrashed is about. Nothing more than just a show about an entrepreneur who really only cares about being rich. It doesn't matter how, or with what idea he gets that, as long as he get the money on his pocket. Capitalism at its best, am I right?

Just like Christian Bale's role in American Psycho, I thought: maybe I could take some notes. This miniseries (based on real facts) tells the story of Adam Neumann, the eccentric founder of WeWork, a co-sharing workspace, that lost his company because he cared more about living the good life than living the real responsability of being in charge of a billionare company. It kind of reminded me of Inventing Anna, from Netflix: small people who tell big lies to huge people who somehow believe in them. Rich people, go figure.

No use in sugarcoating it: just like Inventing Anna, WeCrashed made me want so much to be a sociopath who doesn't care about deceiving people because that's just a small price to pay compared to the opportunity to have all of your dreams becoming true. No mater what and who cares how. Honestly, being a good person is really getting me nowhere, but that's all I know how to be — believe me, I tried being the fucker and it's too much effort.

Coming back to the reason why I decided to give a chance to this: Anne's character (plus the fact that it was a show that wouldn't need a second season and, therefore, wouldn't be cancelled half-way trough it). She is the wife of the founder, and she was a real person years ago, but it feels like she could be someone created in these last two years because she believes in manifestation and all that shit (don't get me wrong, I believe in that shit real hard). Maybe if Adam wasn't too busy paying attention only to himself, he could have seen that all this esoteric talk would be the big deal in the future, and maybe that could've been capitalized early on. You see? I rooted for them, even knowing that they are still rich and so much better than me. But it's impossible not to agree that Adam was toxic in all his leadership and Rebekah was insane in all her good intentions.

The show, just for all that, is incredible, and the story itself borders on the absurd way too many times, that you just can't stop wondering what's coming next and what will be necessary for someone to put an ending in all this madness. However, nothing caught my eyes more than Jared Leto. He was Adam throughout the whole thing. The characterization was insane. I forgot that I was seeing the lead singer of 30 Seconds to Mars on the TV screen. I forgot he once was the Joker. It's amazing how much of a chameleon he is. Insane. It's true that Anne has all the emotional weight on her, that she handles beautifully, but even so it's no match for the fire Leto brings.

Unfortunately, I came to realize (and, arduously, accept) that there are things that you just can't be in life. I can watch as many shows as I want, but nothing will ever teach me how to really be like Adam (or Anna). I can draw inspiration, change something here or there, but nothing can make me create the aura they have. The aura that believes in their own craziness and that will make everyone around them believe too. It's just as mesmerizing to watch this inspiring fire as it's fun to search for what really happened and seeing that it's not just television exaggeration. I caught myself doing that a lot during the episodes. Going through the articles to the Reddit picture that made Neumann finally step down as the CEO of WeWork.

Ultimately, I have to admit, I was worried about how he would end up. Look at that! Me! Worried about a billionaire (other than Taylor Swift). It would be more convincing to be worried about Rebekah's failure at being an actor (even with the power of nepotism right in her hand) since I am one too, than to be worried if Adam made it alive after all (and of course he did it). Guess his charisma really worked on me, even if through Jared Leto who has the incomparable beauty as an ally. A unicorn effect, indeed.

#TvShowsOrGabeNeverHappened

[autisticlilith]

After like five yrs I finally watched SU:Future and the last episode of Steven Universe myself— turns out I actually stopped right before the last episode, which is weird cuz I thought I had missed a whole season, but yh.

But anyways I wasn't blessed enough to not see all the socmed posts abt it— in fact I watched it cuz of the sort of SU renaissance last month —but why did everyone make it out that the memes making fun of the ending were wrong? The plot was exactly as what was claimed. Now I'm getting flashbacks to the LandlordCap diskhorse, cuz it feels like ppl are claiming that detractor's reading of the text is wrong when said reading is flatly correct & the actual unspoken objections are whether the text is enjoyable as an audience member or not

Like with the amount of posts being like "Steven actually HATES the diamonds and fantasizes and even attempts to murder White!" I thought that the sunshine boy protagonist somehow underwent a drastic change, but no he's still sunshine boy— and to be clear, He should still be sunshine boy, that's not a problem at all! —but when I watched the actual arc, the context got totally erased by ppl who think they were "defending" the show but we're actually mischaracterizing it severely. Steven's anger get framed as a mixture of trauma and superpowered pubescent identity crisis that— in the most literal sense —turns him into a raging monster and gets heals through the power of his family's love, which includes the Diamonds hugging him until they all cry and go back to normal. But the way ppl acted, I though Steven was gonna get revenge— for himself or others —but no it's framed as a horrific impulse that was a sign of his descent into madness that he needed help with.

Idk why there were sm many posts misrepresenting the arc when there could be posts wondering why tf the series puts sm onus into Rose/Pink— and that's not to say she didn't do things ppl should be mad at her for, but if we're gonna play relativity games.. then why did the other Diamonds get a series of quirky fun cutesy hobbies while the mere mention of Rose puts the characters on their toes? —And also why did SU: Future completely flatten every non-Steven character? In the main series the "side" characters often had the most personality and growth, but in SU:F they're so flat and dull and effectively lampshaded for Steven crying hour redux. I can see why SU:F wasn't really a hit.

Amd also with the surviving CG's (especially Bismuth) making such a big desk about their friends and comrades lost in the war, you'd think uncorrupting the Crystal Gems would introduce a wide and expansive cast for SU:Future, but they have no character either and the surviving CGs act like they're just acquaintences at best. Seems like a waste of a Future spinoff, and that's saying smth bc the mainline show— in light of getting cut 40 episodes short —wasted a whole episode of their limited schedule just for Watermelon Steven making a phone call from prison.

And— now I'm just thinking about other potential content —you know what else could make for like a flashback or something, smth abt Who made the Diamonds. Or at least White Diamond cuz maybe she made Blue and Yellow. I always headcanon'ed that an advanced organic civilization invention the gem lifeform and created White, but either their civ died out or she killed them or White's creation drained their entire planet's resources and accidentally self-destructed them, and then White perhaps created the others by draining entire other planets for one gem. Whatever the case, I'm sure it's canon that Pink was a later creation cuz she was entirely unfamiliar with organic life, but it would've been cool to see confirmation about White's origins and who made her.

who is this. why are you sending me a whole novel

[shallowseabed]

life update for a lost friend

Hey,

It's been more than a month since we last spoke. You never apologized for snapping, didn't even bother opening my message. Classic you, isn't it? Running away when things get messy. You feel "cornered" and just break whatever's in front of you and then you disappear. At least last time you had tried to apologize, this time I'm just left with your silence.

I haven't thought about you as much as I would have a year ago. It's strange not having you around, but I guess I'm getting used to it faster than I thought I would. I've been seeing your instagram stories, and I know you probably know. I wonder how you're doing, but I'm not gonna ask. I've had enough of all that, I've given up. It's funny, really. Never really thought you'd wear me down, but you somehow did. You never cease to amaze me.

I haven't really come up with an explanation as to why you said the things you said, or why you acted the way you acted. I thought you'd try swiping things under the rug, or that you would at least have an attempt at a self-centered apology. But nope. All I got was radio silence instead. And it's okay, you know? I'm not mad, I'm really not. Maybe silence was all we needed.

Things in my life have been weird. I don't feel much like myself, maybe I'm on a self-discovery journey like my therapist said. I'm not sure, but your absence isn't helping. I could use your company for a bit, and your ear for a bit of ranting.

I thought when you looked at me you saw me and nothing else, but now I've realized you were also seeing the labels hanging from my arms. You know, the ones people put there for some reason. I thought you were so exceptionally different, thought your eyesight went further than the rest of the world's. Boy, was I wrong. I now know that you always saw me just like the rest, and maybe that was the hardest pill to swallow. I suspect that, deep down, I already knew it. But it wasn't so blatantly obvious, so I was able to just ignore it.

Perhaps that's why I'm not mad at you. Because, very deep down, I know I needed this reality check. You're not the person I made you out to be, you're not even the person YOU led me to believe you were. You are so much different, almost unrecognizable. The only thing I don't get is the reason behind all this play pretend. Why would you waste your time trying to make me believe you were someone you're not? Doesn't it get tiring? I bet it gets exhausting. Is that what your sudden snapping was about? Were you tired of this false reality?

About me, I think I'm tougher than before. I've come to realize it's almost impossible for me to love people, and it's even harder to let myself be loved by anyone. I'm not scared of love, I just… don't know it. I don't know how to love people, I don't know how to feel loved, I barely even know how to feel at all. It's weird, because I can understand everyone else in the blink of an eye, but I can't make sense of what's inside me. I can put a name on what others are going through, I can understand their emotions as if I were feeling them myself. I can give people the words for what they feel deep inside, and bring some comfort to their troubled minds and soulds. Yet I can't even begin to understand what's in my very own mind. I can't even label it, and words keep failing me. Best I can do is draw it out, or describe it as something you'd think is completely unrelated. It's hard to make yourself understood when the right words haven't been invented yet.

Turns out there's a name for this: autism. I never thought I could be autistic. I have always believed my brain was wired differently, but I didn't think the word for it had been invented yet. Frankly, I still don't believe it has, but I guess autism is the closest guess we've got for now. My therapist says there's no cure, that this will never go away. He says I can make it better, but that I should stop trying to stop being the way I am. I can't stop being the way I am, but I can make it better, and I guess that's as good as it gets for me. Ha, life's getting back at me.

I guess this is like my Von Willebrand Syndrome. You can't make it go away but you can try to make it better with things that were created to treat something else but that, if you're lucky, should work just right.

I think this is just bullshit, all of it. I feel like I've been left out of the world. This world doesn't have the right words, explanations, feelings, eyes nor the right ears for me. It's like I was brought straight from space, some kind of uncommunicated freak. I'm starting to make peace with it, albeit. It's not easy, but I guess I make it work, somehow.

It turns out there are some things I do that are very uncommon and hard to achieve, and I was completely unaware of it. Did you know that, apparently, accurately picking up on patterns in order to predict actions and events is kind of a big deal? And that people's minds don't react in mili seconds to tiny changes in their environments? Did you know that most people can't decipher someone's backstory with just a few personality traits and behavioral patterns? Because I surely didn't.

I've been rambling for the last 30 minutes and I forgot where I was going. I guess all I wanted to say was thank you, for setting me free.

#neurodivergent #neurodivergencies #autism #autistic #vent #rant #god #the right words haven't been invented yet but this is my best attempt

[fakeboitherottengirl]

"Wow 😯 Weird how after I call u out on hiding behind anon ur all out of points to make hmm" Ma'am, I don't have a Tumblr account, I have a life. I don't want to continue talking to someone who's too stubborn to understand why sharing images of CP should be a bad thing.

You not having a tumblr account makes it even weirder that ur on my page. Why are u looking at my tumblr if we are strangers that’s like reading my diary just to fight with me that’s mad weird and somehow kind of invasive. I said it was a bad thing. I said he was an edgelord who overstepped his way into a jail cell. I just don’t believe he was a pedophile, I think he uses references to pedo shit because it’s literally the most shocking thing there is, it’s the only thing so shocking that it is a crime to watch (murder on the other hand is totally legal including child murder/abuse as long as it isn’t sexual). Those laws were also brand new at the time so of course the worlds edgiest boy is going to challenge this new censorship. His entire form of art is to shock and disgust and he’s just been told “This is so shocking and disgusting that it is now newly forbidden” like maybe it’s just my ODD but that kind of controversy is appealing to an artist who works entirely in shock horror and is a free speech absolutist like idk I kind of understand how you could not take a recent law seriously, break it to give it the finger, and fuck around and find out. It’s like when they banned smoking in certain areas of my campus in college, nobody obeyed the ban because it was brand new and then the first semester everybody I knew got like 5 tickets. Not that that’s the same degree of immorality but like I said there’s a difference between somebody who sets out to shock and goes too far and somebody who is sexually attracted to children. But I literally said they were a bad choice, I just said that given the political and legal climate of the time releasing illegal images might be the tantrum that somebody throws when they believe no image should be illegal. He was a shock horror artist, not a fetishist. His intention was to shock and upset, not entice. It still wasn’t a good choice and he served his time for it and never offended again. His behavior does not fit the profile of a pedo it fits the profile of somebody who crossed the wrong line with their edgy bullshit. You are looking at this from a 2022 perspective. This was half a century ago. CP wasn’t even an often-prosecuted unless you were a large level distributor until setting honeypots became an easy desk job for cops with the invention of the internet. My abuse was not even that long ago and it was sold on VHS tapes in batches of about 20 other than the stuff I made of myself as a teen my abuse is lost media because they were only just starting to prosecute those kind of crimes against children when I was growing up. If he were actually interested in children there would have been later charges, or at least grooming victims like with Dennis Cooper and the supposedly 16 year old JT LeRoy who allegedly had phone sex or something close to it. The idea of an illegal image was brand new, like literally weeks old, and he was probably either pissed off by it or didn’t take it seriously and he fucked around and found out, he went past edgy and wound up doing time but “edgy lapse in judgement” makes more sense in this case than “attracted to kids” because he never offended again. Let me make it clear, I do not defend his actions, it was a bad move regardless of motive, but also if ur the 1st person ever convicted of a crime you probably didn’t believe it was a serious crime until the judge said “guilty”. Like if ur the first person ever convicted under a brand new law there’s a good chance u didn’t believe they were seriously locking people up for breaking this new law. You are confusing “I understand how somebody could blow past edgy and make that kind of fuck up” and “I support and condone his actions”. What he did was stupid and gross but I don’t think, given the circumstances, that it means he had actual sexual interest in kids. I think it was a middle finger that he laid on the chopping block of free speech like a contrarian d-bag if anything but at worst it was a poor-taste attempt at shock that he neglected to consider or underestimated the consequences of.

[tortricidae]

Day of Reckoning

“Dr. Uket!”

A long pause accompanied only by the panicked sounds of feet moving rapidly down a sterilized white hallway.

“DR. UKET!”

Uket was busy. He had been busy for the past few days, perfecting what could only be considered a weapon of mass destruction. A tool that would be useful in the coming days. It wasn’t that he necessarily thought it was going to be necessary, but it was better to be prepared since the higher-ups tended to disregard the severity of many of the problems that plagued Cyclone City. Or rather, they disregarded the problems that he was trying to solve.

He heard his name repeated, growing more and more urgent as it got closer until his plucky - though temporary - assistant, Noia, appeared in the doorway, bathed in red light that made her look harrowed and scared.

“Dr. Uket,” Noia panted, doubled over.

She was a tiny Sebra, no taller than two or so feet, and was covered in thick black fur that was mostly splayed out and messy. Bits of it clung to the heavy lab coat that had come up buttoned in her mad dash. There was an air of soullessness in her eyes, but one did not need to worry about such things. Especially not now.

“Noia, darling,” Uket started, not looking up from the beautiful red casing of his latest invention. “I’m busy. We talked about this.”

“Sorry,” Noia wheezed, still trying to catch her breath. “I had to get here as fast as possible.”

Uket adjusted his glasses and reached for a screw driver without looking up. “It better be urgent. I’m almost done running some diagnostic tests on some Steam Sebs. As you can imagine, darling, it is very time-sensitive.”

“Sorry, Dr. Uket.” Noia took a deep breath. “It is urgent. The broadcast. It went wonky.”

“Yes, it does seem to be doing that more often these days, isn’t that right?” Ukey chuckled as he snapped the last parts into place. The gleaming red was paired with a brilliant white casing and was stamped with bold letters.

C.R.A.B.

Uket hefted it a bit, sliding his hand easily into the opening and gripping onto the lever inside, which latched closed and squeezed his hand tightly. The snapping was followed by a gentle whirring as the inner mechanisms blinked to life and steadily warmed up.

Noia watched cautiously, for she knew better than to speak when Uket was working this closely with a machine of this nature. Uket had a habit of getting himself into trouble when he was experimenting, and Noia would rather make it out of the situation intact, rather than whatever happened when “accidents” occurred. Not that she thought Uket would purposefully use something against her like that.

Uket wasn’t like that.

Uket had a permanent wry smile spread across his lips. It was strange and made him look like some kind of demonic serpent Sebra, but that simply was just how he was around his experimentations.

With a swift snap, the huge claw-like jaw on the front of the arm cannon closed and a divisive twang echoed off the silent computers and bubbling containers. As soon as the sound died off, another, more intense sound filled the air. The floor rumbled and various glass vials rolled off their observation shelves and onto the floor, shattered as the electricity flickered off.

“Oh no!” Noia squeaked.

“Hold on, darling,” Uket said. “The emergency lights should come on soon. Don’t move.”

Noia obeyed, even though her instincts told her that she had to get out of the labs. That, somehow, this would be the first place they would come. “They” didn’t mean anything specific, but her gut was usually never wrong. And if Uket was so calm, then he probably knew what was going on.

Though the emergency lights did flicker on eventually. Uket hurried around the lab, moving papers and equipment out of the way as he searched for a bag, Noia trembling as she watched in a helpless emotional freefall.

“What’s happening, Dr. Uket?” she asked in a panic. “What was that?”

Ukey huffed with the effort it took to stow the C.R.A.B Cannon in a suitable bag to contain it. The bastard was heavy and cumbersome in his hands. It would be of much better use if he could get to one of the containment labs. The Steamrunners would be overtaken most likely, but the Steam Sebs still in construction would be able to use the C.R.A.B Cannon more efficiently.

“Technical difficulties,” was all that Uket would say for now.

This was all on a need-to-know basis and Noia, bless her plucky little heart, did not need to know. All that mattered was that he got this weapon in the right hands and got out of the lab before the whole place came crashing down.

“Help me, please, Noia,” Uket added as he wheeled over a cart.

Noia sprang into action, helping Uket roll the C.R.A.B Cannon onto the cart. She then rushed over to the door of the lab and pushed it open, peeking out into the hallway, which was mostly dark, lit only by the bright white light of the emergency lights. It was eerie.

Another rumble shook the lab floor as Uket pushed the cart out the door and down the hall, his lab coat flapping behind him and his tail dragging on the floor.

“Technical difficulties?” Noia parroted, not quite buying the whole scenario.

“Well, when we get outside, you’ll probably understand a little bit better, won’t you?” Uket replied with a laugh. “First, we’re going to get to one of the other observation rooms. Then we’ll get to a loading bay. And then, we’ll survive.”

“Survive?” Noia squeaked.

“Don’t worry,” Uket added with another breathy laugh. “They have weaknesses. Should be interesting to witness how the city deals with it.”

Noia fell silent, perturbed and overwhelmed. Survive? Shouldn’t be that difficult, right?

Right?

#sebramir #sebra #noia #dr. uket #closed species #writing tag

[clusterbuck]

how about 4 from the prompts list? "I'm here, aren't I?"

okay fun fact when i sat down to fill this prompt and turned my spotify on shuffle the first song to come up was i'm here by sweet talk radio so like... that's appropriate lmao

thanks for the prompt!!

"i'm here, aren't i?" buck mutters under his breath. "stop looking at me like that! it's rush hour on a friday, i did the best i could with the traffic conditions i had."

"i know, i know," eddie whispers next to him. "i'm not mad at, you, i just—" he cuts himself off and sighs. "i was going to talk to you about something before we went in."

"why am i here, anyway?" buck asks, looking around at all of the parents and teachers milling around the foyer of christopher's school. "i mean, you know i don't mind, but you made it sound really—"

he's interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice, somewhere on eddie's other side. "mr diaz, there you are! and this must be the husband."

buck whirls to look at eddie, because—if eddie has a husband, this is the first he's hearing of it.

please, eddie's expression seems to say, desperate and cornered and a little hopeful. and buck's never been able to deny him anything.

he's always been quick on the uptake, and even if he wasn't, eddie's arm sliding around his waist would probably make the pieces slip into place. so he schools his features into his best approximation of what a husband probably looks like and turns to face the woman next to eddie.

she's bright and bubbly, the platonic ideal of a suburban california soccer mom. she holds out a hand, and buck grins as he shakes it. "that's me," he confirms.

"and are you mr diaz as well?" she asks, and buck breathes an internal sigh of relief when she doesn't add anything along the lines of i don't really know how it works with you people.

"buckley, actually," he tells her. "buck." then he drops his voice and leans in like he's sharing a secret. "makes it easier at work, you know, so our captain knows who he's talking to."

she laughs, and eddie squeezes his hip. "i've heard a lot about you," she says with a smile. then she inclines her head at eddie. "he won't shut up about you, actually."

buck grins. "is that so?" he asks, turning to look at eddie.

eddie rolls his eyes. "i talk about you a normal amount," he says. "don't go getting an ego about this."

the woman introduces herself as somebody's mother. next to him, eddie falls into an easy conversation about math homework and the upcoming science fair, but buck is only half-listening. he's mostly preoccupied by the fact that eddie, apparently, goes around telling people that they're married. which is definitely news to him.

he's also more than a little preoccupied by the warm weight of eddie's arm resting around his waist, and the casual way eddie's hand curls around his hip like it belongs there. before he can think better of it, buck leans further into eddie's embrace, and eddie adjusts his grip mid-sentence like this is something they do every day and not something out of buck's wildest daydreams.

eventually, the woman excuses herself to go and find some teacher or the other.

"husband, huh?" buck asks. "that's funny, i don't remember you proposing. or, you know, asking me out."

as he speaks, eddie detaches himself from buck. when buck turns to look, eddie is already wearing a guilty expression.

eddie sighs. "i was going to tell you," he says. "that's what i wanted to talk to you about before we came in."

"i mean, yeah, knowing ahead of time that i'm supposed to be acting like your husband would have made life a little easier," buck says. "also, uh, why am i supposed to be acting like your husband, again?"

eddie looks away, squirrely in the way buck knows he only gets when he's embarrassed. "there was a teacher a while back," he says. "she kept, uh, hitting on me? so i panicked and said i was married."

"okay, so, why me?" buck asks, and wonders if eddie can hear the unspoken question. why are you pretending to be married to a man? eddie's never given any indication that he's anything other than straight. it's the biggest reason buck has him firmly mentally labelled as never going to happen, buckley, you might as well stop dreaming about it.

it hasn't worked so far, but repetition is key.

"i guess christopher talks about you a lot," eddie says. "she asked if it was you, and it seemed easier to say yes than to invent some kind of fictional spouse that i'd have to remember details about."

"romantic," buck says, and eddie laughs and elbows him.

"shut up."

"so why didn't you just tell me?" buck asks.

"i was going to, if you'd been here when you said you would!"

"hey, it's not my fault the 146 didn't manage their pile-up scene properly and traffic backed up!" buck says. "besides, you could also have told me at any other point in time between now and—how long have you been telling people this?"

"uh... six months, give or take," eddie says. "that's why it was so important you come tonight—i've been making excuses for you at school events, but the other parents have started to question it and i don't want them thinking my imaginary husband is a shitty person."

"clearly you have better taste than that," buck agrees.

eddie sighs again, but it's good-natured. "god, i should have known you'd be insufferable about this."

"and yet you picked me anyway," buck beams. "so why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"i was worried you'd think it's weird," eddie says. "and i really needed you to be here."

"mm, being addressed as your husband out of the blue was definitely less weird," buck says.

"so it didn't go exactly to plan," eddie says. "thanks for just rolling with it, by the way."

"of course," buck says. "i've got your back, remember?"

"somehow, i don't think this is what either of us envisioned back in that hospital parking lot," eddie laughs.

and it's true—buck had envisioned doing a lot of things with eddie, back in those first few days before he'd realised he didn't have a chance, but fake marriage was never one of them.

"so is there anything specific you need me to do?" buck asks, in an effort to distract himself from thoughts of the things he did envision.

"just—sell it, i guess?" eddie says. "i'm pretty sure i've only told people things about you that are true anyway, so there's no elaborate cover story or anything."

"except that we're married," buck says.

"except that we're married," eddie agrees. "for—about a year now, i think i've said?"

"a year, okay," buck repeats. "cool, i'm on it." then he steps closer to eddie again and slips his hand into eddie's back pocket.

"buck," eddie hisses. "what are you doing?"

"selling it," buck replies.

"where? in high school in the year 1987?" eddie asks, but he relaxes into buck's side.

"hey, no judging," buck says. "maybe this is my signature move."

"i mean, you do you," eddie says. buck doesn't argue, because he doesn't want to have to tell eddie that he's mostly doing it because this might be the only opportunity he ever gets to touch eddie's ass.

it's only as they set off to meet with the first of christopher's teachers that buck realises he might have miscalculated. because now his hand is on eddie's ass, and he's suddenly hyperaware of even the smallest twitch of his fingers. how much of it can eddie feel? is eddie going to think he's trying to make a move if he accidentally flexes his fingers a little?

it's not that he doesn't want to make a move. it's just that he doesn't think that eddie would be very receptive to it.

except eddie turns out to be a very affectionate fake husband. if buck's hand isn't in eddie's pocket then eddie is holding it. when they sit side-by-side listening to teachers talk about how smart christopher is, eddie's foot is hooked around buck's ankle. in the hallway between meetings, eddie turns to drop a kiss on buck's cheek, and a shiver radiates through him.

buck doesn't know what to make of it. he's used to a certain amount of physical contact from eddie—shoulders brushing together as they walk next to each other, working together so seamlessly their limbs might as well be extensions of each other on calls—but this feels different. it's not just that the touches are different—there's an ease to eddie's actions that makes buck wonder for the first time in years if maybe his mental label for eddie isn't quite as accurate after all.

he doesn't know how else to explain the fact that eddie keeps touching him. it's more than enough to sell their ruse—bordering on excessive, even, especially for a middle school parent-teacher conference.

and buck isn't exactly innocent himself, either. he wonders if a year into a fictional marriage is too far to claim honeymoon period, because that's the closest he can come to describing the feeling—like now that he has permission to touch eddie, the dam has broken and he can't keep his hands off.

they're still holding hands when they spill out of the school doors and into the dark warmth of the september evening. eddie makes no move to let go, and so neither does buck.

buck's jeep is clear across the other side of the parking lot, but he follows eddie to his truck anyway. they reach the car, and eddie brushes his lips against the corner of buck's mouth, closer than he has all night. buck freezes.

eddie pulls back, horror clear across his face. "i'm sorry," he says. "i didn't—i just—i forgot. that we're not inside anymore."

there's just enough wistfulness in his voice that buck makes a split-second decision. he takes a step forwards and takes eddie's face in his hands, stands still for two heartbeats just in case he's reading everything extremely wrong and eddie wants to protest, and then he's kissing eddie.

eddie kisses the way he does everything else, with a steadiness that keeps buck tethered to reality and a quiet intensity that bubbles just under the surface. it's a combination that's uniquely eddie, one that makes buck feel like he could take on the world and win and like he's coming home.

"i don't want it to be just inside," buck says, just in case eddie didn't get the message. "i don't want it to be fake. i mean, it might be a little soon to get married, but—"

"someday, though," eddie says, and buck laughs.

"someday, yeah."

eddie grins at him. "in the meantime, do you want to come home with me tonight?"

"yeah, i really do."

send me a starter line from this list and i'll write a ficlet for it!

#i am so tired i hope this makes sense lmao #buddie #911fic #ask emma #emma writes #becominglionhearted #lol i was literally just saying the other day that i tend to default to eddie pov and here's my second buck pov in a row #oh well