Fuck it I’m speaking my truth. Boobers y’all gotta stop being unnecessarily mean to ConnorEatsPants. I’ve been going through his sf6 vods and every time he references being ostracized and harassed by twitter users, my heart breaks. Connor even said that he no longer mentions being friends with Ranboo and other creators because he doesn’t want boobers to start hating Ranboo for it.
And he’s right btw. Remember when there was a possibility Connor might be in genloss? Instead of being excited or just saying nothing, boobers began linking threads on why he’s such a horrible person and how his inclusion would ruin the project as a whole. We don’t even know if he was joking or not, yet you all still celebrated when he didn’t appear in episode 2. I’m pretty sure Connor will never publicly interact with Ranboo or this community again after the way you all treated him. That’s really fucked guys.
While I understand the want to “hold people accountable” for their past actions, 1) it’s not your responsibility to hold people accountable over the internet and 2) judging everyone on their past mistakes alone is a very dehumanizing and hypocritical way to view other people.
Why is this community all about treating other with respect and kindness, especially when they’re on the spectrum, but Connor is the exception?
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Eddie gluskin with a pregnant darling maybe
you know what's funny about Eddie Gluskin being one of my faves? i am terrified of pregnancy
just headcanons for now - this ended up being more an exploration of the inherent horror of this situation than anything shippy, whoops. also kind of an au where Waylon does not survive his encounter with Eddie
18+ just in case
CW: injuries, noncon, hostage, pregnancy, suicide mention cannibalism(?) probably more i missed. (no r*** - it is alluded to tho) i mean it's Eddie. the man is a walking billboard for "dead dove do not eat" ok lmao
being Eddie’s darling wife was a living nightmare
you’d been one of the few employees allowed near Eddie, and he’d developed a….thing…for you. well, not you, really, more the idea of you
and when the Mount Massive asylum fell into chaos, you were one of the unlucky people trapped inside
when Eddie found you he was quick to make his image of you your new reality
whether you wanted it or not
you’d initially fought him at every turn. unfortunately, Eddie had a temper, and was prone to snapping with no warning
you’d learned that lesson the hard way - your forearm was still in a makeshift splint, a dull ache where he’d fractured the bone in a fit of anger. or had he broken it? you weren’t sure. all you knew is it hurt like hell and made it nearly impossible for you to fight back
after that incident, you thought keeping your head down and quietly obeying him was the smart choice. that you’d be safe enough to ride out this mess until someone arrived to help
you had to believe that someone was coming. you told yourself you’d be rescued within the week, that there was no way a facility as large as Mount Massive could go down in flames like this without someone noticing
days turned into weeks, weeks into months (how many had it been? 3? 4?)
every night you sat, ankles bound to your chair at the end of some wobbly, bloodstained table, Eddie at the opposite end, a makeshift dinner spread between the two of you
occasionally there would be some sort of meat among the sawdust-flavored rations - Eddie was always vague when you asked him what kind of meat it was
you resisted for the first month, but your resolve broke a week into the second, the hunger pains driving you to tears and forcing you to make a choice
so you ate. and you tried not to think about where he got it from
it was like the two of you playing some sick game of house
Eddie kept a close eye on you when he was around, restraining you when he wasn’t
you’d be tied to a chair. strapped down on your back atop some bloodstained hospital mattress. arms bound behind you, tied to a support beam and forced to sit on the cold concrete floor
all of it was miserable
Eddie said it was for your safety, but you knew better. especially after he’d found you with a knife you’d managed to get your hands on. he’d stopped you from trying to slash your own throat, spewing some bullshit about his darling preferring death over a blissful life as the proud mother of his many, many children
he wasn’t going to let you leave him in any way
some part of you thought about pleading with Eddie to “think of the baby” and untie you - but that only reminded you that you were, in fact, pregnant
and it was starting to show
whatever mental energy you could spare went to trying (and failing) to block that fact out of your mind
you felt like you were trapped in two horror stories simultaneously - one, enduring whatever Eddie decided to do to you on a daily basis, and two, the unwanted life growing inside you against your will
not to mention the mental anguish of what to do after the…birth. would you even survive that? would you want to?
should you try to raise and protect it? or would it be more merciful if you…
it was a horrifying decision to make, one that you flinched away from whenever you found yourself thinking about it
every day you wondered if it would be better to piss him off, have him kill you in a fit of rage. it wouldn't be hard to do, but for some reason the knowledge that you were pregnant stopped you
well, you told yourself, at least you got to skip Eddie’s “operation table”. all the men who came before you weren’t so lucky, if the video on that camera you found was to be believed….
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Corrie Guard: Fox & Patches
@megneato did two more AMAZING commissions for me (the first was Ma Dong-Seok as Paz Vizsla, he’s beautiful, go look at him), which was to help get my headcanon down for what Fox looks like, and a design for my Corrie Medic OC, Patches! (I belatedly realized that is a common medic OC name. I am. Not sorry. ...or original.)
CC 1010: FOX
tired
like, so fucking tired
Constantly Vibrating Ball of Rage
hair gone white from stress and torture via Evil Sith Shenanigans
lightning scars around his neck, continue below armor on the right side of his torso
no tattoos so that he could pass as some of the other clones (this works up until the scarring and the trauma hair)
CT 9113: PATCHES
MASSIVE baby bro/vod’ika vibes, is from one of the more recent batches
very gentle and sweet and smiley
name comes from his patchwork scars, which were the result of being yeeted through a pane of glass (exact scenario as of yet undecided)
does actually have a kind bedside manner, but do not be fooled: he will also use the big sad eyes RUTHLESSLY
‘i’m not mad, just disappointed’ except instead of disappointed dad it’s your little brother who looks up to you and thinks the world of you and now you let him DOWN
that said, if he’s visibly angry, you should probably run.
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"oh no. i think i'm catching feelings"
(this is what i do instead of my very important assignments.
Suggestive near the end, but not descriptive
title from 'sex' by eden)
Freelancer can practically see the steam rushing out of Gavin's ears.
His face is red and his eyes were glaring holes into them. If they didn't know any better, they'd say he was mad at them.
But they saw the way Gavin's lips fought a smile. The corners of them tugging up without his approval, entirely giving away his facade.
They've grown awfully fond of him, and it almost scared them. Almost. No one could really be scared of such beauty, in their humble (and very correct) opinion. And if that didn't convince them, Freelancer would take any and every opportunity explaining how wise, endearing and kind the man in front of them was.
"Are you even listening to me?"
That snapped Freelancer right out of the clouds. They paused for a second, before coming clean.
"Nope. Sorry, handsome."
If Freelancer said Gavin's face managed to get even more red, he would deny it.
"You-" he starts, putting his face in his hands, breathing in and out to calm himself, "I am going to kill you."
If Gavin meant that, he didn't show it. Perhaps one could argue the blushing, smiling and wide eyes filled with adoration were all a ruse to hide his murderous intent. If that was the case, Freelancer had definitely fallen for (him) it.
Unfortunately for Gavin, Freelancer had one last card up their sleeve.
"And what are you going to do, Gavin? Fuck me to death?"
What were they here for again? Magic history tutoring? A movie date? Finishing the leftover pizza and wings they ordered the last time Gavin was over?
It didn't matter anymore, because Gavin was forcing them out of their seat, grabbing their face and kissing them breathless. All while maneuvering the both of them into their bedroom.
When Freelancer took a breath, they were on top of Gavin, legs on either side of his waist, one hand pinning one of his arms down while the other was resting on his chest. They stared at him as they felt his chest falling and rising, his heart beating beneath their touch.
They remembered what that meant, when a demon took the time to form a heart beat with magic. Slowly, they leaned down to kiss his chest, right where a real heart would be if he was human.
They looked up at him, and in their brief eye contact, Freelancer thanked him. For his help with DAMN stuff, for trusting them enough to be this vulnerable with his emotions.
For being in their life.
If Freelancer was asked if they started to cry in that moment, hiding it from Gavin by meeting his lips with their own again, they'd say it was drool.
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