#I understand him completely

[humanfox030]

". . .On the second day, he declared that he needed a rock.”

“A . . . rock.”

“He hopped out of the wagon and found one, then he hit himself on the head with it.

Did it three or four times.

Came right back to the wagon with an odd grin, and said . . ."

This little scene keeps making me laugh so I had to draw it

[youhavehitawall]

ok sorry..... walks into your askbox normal.... with only 4 tires this time.... *east seafood glumly*

Cass eats seafood most out of all of my characters probably. Rundown, Ricochet and co. live/d on the coast but it was a city and it was difficult to get good fish. Cass's childhood was spent along the east coast of Australia and she likely spent many a day fishing in her youth. Kids have to work too you know! And it was hard with only her and Joy on a farm. Her not-dad was probably a sailor

Cass and Reg are older than Rundown. I just like, thought about and realised that

[apollonouta]

Drosselmyer or whatever is a messy old bitch like ain't you dead? Get a life stop instigating damn. Puttin these kids and animals through nonsense for entertainment. Hes not even taken their hardships and grief seriously

[keferon]

Don’t mind me I just like to see him go bananas about cartoonish Autobot rules

Maaan…..if Prowl was in tfp he would spontaneously combust at least once a day

[unifybullseye]

Nights after the engine room

[justiceforplutoo]

The Corroded Coffin boys having no clue about the Upside Down making Steve and Eddie's interactions appear 10x gayer...? My Roman Empire.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course."

"No, really," and Steve looks up through his eyelashes at Eddie. "Are you...okay?"

Eddie gives Steve the softest smile the boys have ever seen anywhere even near Eddie's face. Ever. It's not a performance, like it usually is, but it's a true, genuine smile, just for the two of them. Gareth looks away, flustered.

Jeff just stands there, slightly bewildered, and turns to Freak. "You think they're...?"

Freak nods absentmindedly. "Yeah, you know...yeah."

Steve calls Eddie randomly during their late night hangouts with a thought he had? The boys share raised eyebrows.

They know each other's favourite songs but Eddie can't even remember any of theirs? Very suspicious.

Eddie knows Steve's work hours and calls to make sure he got home safely? Strange things are afoot at the family video.

Things only escalate from there. Steve's making his way upstairs (to grab a bandaid for Eddie, who absolutely does NOT need a bandaid for a papercut) and Jeff stops him in the hallway.

"Listen, man, I just wanna know what's going on between you and Eddie."

Steve's face is the picture of innocence. "...what?"

Jeff sighs and scrubs his face. "I mean, I hate to, like, out you like this, but I just don't want Eddie getting hurt, you know? I mean, he's been through a lot--"

"I know," Steve interjects.

Jeff glares at him. "You realize it's, like, obvious to everyone around you both that something is definitely going on between you two? I'm just saying, there's a real possibility that someone could see that and accidentally make the right assumption. It's just dangerous, where we live, you kn--"

"Oh my God."

"Yeah, I know," Jeff nods solemnly, "It's really frustrating that you have to--"

"Jeff, oh my God. I didn't know."

"It's okay, we all make m--"

Steve looks shell shocked by this small nugget of information. Jeff had heard rumours from the kids of possible brain damage, and he'd never thought they might be true before, but he was starting to suspect it now.

"Are you okay? You look a little--"

Steve looks up at him. "Jeff, I'm queer. I like men. I like Eddie."

Jeff pauses. "...I know...?"

Steve mock-screams at him. "I didn't!"

Oh. Oh...? Oh.

"What am I supposed to do? Oh God, Jeff, he's right there, oh--"

Eddie peeks around the corner with a look of concern painting his concerning enough features. "Is everything alright? Are you okay? Is it--"

Steve sniffs roughly, looking at the floor with mild interest. "Eddie, I need to talk to you."

Eddie wastes no time in coming up to Steve's side. "What's u--mmh."

And then Steve's kissing him.

It's kind of like watching two trains crash into each other but one train is your best friend since middle school and the other is this guy he used to hate but now it's complicated, but it's not really complicated, they're just madly in love, but it's weird because Jeff still remembers that one time Eddie stepped on Steve's lunch by accident and Steve just yanked him so hard he fell off of the table.

Jeff has never really understood what those romance books meant when they said "two tongues fighting for dominance" but suddenly, he got it now.

"I think I'm Buddha," Jeff said, still staring at the train wreck that was Steve and Eddie's tongues fighting for dominance.

"What?" Eddie looked over at him, a trail of spit connecting his mouth to Steve's. Jeff wanted to bleach his eyeballs. Jeff wanted to spread his enlightenment.

"I said I'm going to go now. You guy stay safe." Jeff's voice did not sound like his own voice anymore. "Use protection and all that."

Jeff didn't think they heard him, but he didn't really wanna turn around and find out.

"Hey, man! ...are you...okay?" Gareth asked worriedly.

"Steve didn't know that he was gay. Until just now. When I told him."

The three of them just sat there for a moment. Something thumped upstairs, and then there was a lot of laughing echoing down the stairs.

"You wanna go to my place and watch Grease?" Freak suggested.

All three of them were out of the door before the end of that sentence.

[shepscapades]

oh how the turn tables <3

[X] [X]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

What was in the blood.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[samcarpenters]

BOONE: bitch scoot over… i love yall…

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[maruniee]

"self conscious werewolf boyfriend confides in you" alt. ending

-

(note: my sweetheart goes by they/them pronouns!)

[fishyfutaba]

maybe i will admit to liking alec hardy just a little

[lunammoon]

Anyway, I think that now that Spite knows he can pull Rook into Lucanis's mind when he's experiencing severe distress and that Spite now understands that Lucanis isn't locking himself in the torment nexus on purpose that when Lucanis Ends Up Back There (has a night terror) Spite will take over and go to wherever Rook (unless they're in bed together) and go "Trapped. Again. Get Him Out! Please?". And of course, Rook always says yes and they go to fish out Lucanis.

[kelin-is-writing]

How… Do I recover from this…?

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I cannot wait for this Stan to reconnect with his Ford.

I still haven't figured out HOW exactly they'll meet yet, but I do think that Ford would ATTACH himself to Stanley and talk his ears off forever when they eventually get comfortable :] and Stanley would listen because HOLY SHIT, THAT'S HIS BRO HE HASN'T SEEN FOR 40-ISH YEARS, HE MISSED HIS VOICE. Nonstop certified Yapper & Listener relationship <3

Stanley looks dead faced because of his ingrained poker face, but he's thouroughly enjoying it, even if sometimes he has no idea what the fuck Ford is saying. He never interrupts him though, since he knows people usually ignore or interrupt him mid-talk already. So sometimes Stan gets stuck in awkward situations where he has to leave or do stuff, but also doesn't have it in his heart to stop Ford and extract himself out of a (one-sided) conversation.