#and that’s to be completely and utterly stupid

[jxstsxgx]

𝚆𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙵𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 | 𝙴𝙳𝙳𝙸𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽

Pairings: Drunk!Eddie Munson x Reader (…kinda)

Word Count: 1,158 words

Summary: Eddie’s drunk. Eddie’s in love. Eddie thinks he’s confessing to you. He is not.

Contains: drunken rambling, dramatic confessions, emotional!Eddie, oblivious Steve, confused Robin, twist ending (you were never in the room), just a dumb little guy in love.

A/N: Haven't posted in days. I was battling with...laziness lol. Anyway, last fic I made was Drunk!Steve then I wanted to make Drunk!Eddie too, so here's a short one. (Lowkey Steddie, lmao)

masterlist |

Eddie Munson was completely, utterly, soul crushingly drunk.

He was seated on the floor in Robin’s living room, back pressed against the couch, beer long forgotten in his lap, curls a wild halo around his flushed face. They’d had game night. One drink turned to two, turned to eight, turned to Eddie trying to balance pretzel sticks on his nose while Robin egged him on.

Steve had just returned from a bathroom break when he noticed it. Eddie, staring dreamily across the room, eyes wide and glassy.

“Uh… is he okay?” Steve asked.

Robin looked up from stacking Uno cards. “He’s been like that for the last five minutes. Just… sighing.”

Then Eddie whispered, “God, you're so pretty.”

Robin snorted. “Oh no.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes locked on something... or someone. “I can’t believe you're real. It’s like… you walked out of my daydreams and into this stupid living room.”

Steve glanced behind him. “Wait. Who is he looking at?”

Robin squinted. “Steve. He’s looking at you.”

“What?!”

But Eddie wasn’t listening. Eddie was enchanted. His gaze locked, expression lovesick. He clutched his heart dramatically.

“Hey,” he slurred. “C’mere.”

Steve pointed to himself. “Me?”

Eddie patted the floor beside him with a dopey smile. “Yeah, you.”

Robin blinked. “Oh my God. He thinks you’re her.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Me?”

Robin nodded. “He’s that drunk.”

Steve hesitated, then cautiously sat down next to Eddie, who immediately grabbed his hand.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered, brushing Steve’s knuckles like they were made of silk. “D’you know… you ruin me?”

Steve’s whole soul left his body. “Okay…”

Eddie smiled softly. “Every time you smile at me, I feel like I’ve been hit by lightning. But, like, the good kind. Is there a good kind? Doesn’t matter. You’re it. You’re everything.”

Robin wheezed into the couch cushions.

Steve tried, “Uh… Eddie, maybe-”

But Eddie was in full spiral now, his eyes were even shut, “And your voice. Don’t even get me started. It’s like my favorite song and a bedtime story and a warm blanket all rolled into one.”

Steve's face scrunched. “Bro.”

“I think about you all the time. All the time. Like, when I eat cereal, I’m like, ‘She’d hate this cereal.’ And I eat it anyway, because I’m sad and in love.”

Robin was crying. Literally crying from holding back her laugh.

“Every time you walk into a room,” Eddie breathed, “I forget how to function. I’d build you a house. Out of, like, D&D dice and guitar picks. I’d learn to knit pretty sweaters and skirts for you, I’d die for you.”

Steve was frozen. “Okay, we need to-”

“And you smell so nice,” Eddie continued, practically moaning. “Like vanilla. Or flowers. Or flower vanilla. I don’t know. I’m drunk.”

“You don’t say,” Steve mumbled.

Eddie gripped his hand tighter. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? Even if you fall in love with a guy who’s better than me. Like a hot firefighter. Or a lawyer. Or, like, a guy with really nice handwriting. I’ll just be… here. Sad. Loving you from afar.”

Robin gasped, absolutely losing it.

Steve, trying to suppress the laughter crawling up his throat, gently said, “Munson, Buddy. You sure you’re talking to the right person?”

Eddie squinted. “Of course I am. Why would I say all that to someone else?”

“You are talking to Steve,” Robin managed, her face red from laughing.

“No I’m not,” Eddie said, fighting for his life to open his drunken eyelids, turning toward Steve with a sleepy smile. “I’m talking to her-”

Steve pointed at himself. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie blinked. Slowly.

Then blinked again.

“…No you’re not.”

“I am.”

Eddie sat up straighter, horrified. “Then where the hell is she?!”

Robin held up her hands, still laughing. “Literally not even here. She left an hour ago, dude.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “No. No! I saw her! She was right there!” he pointed wildly. “She was right there and I told her about the cereal and the house and sweaters!”

Steve nodded solemnly. “Yeah, you told me.”

Eddie looked absolutely destroyed.

Then he groaned, flopping backwards with his arm over his face. “I wanna die.”

Robin patted his leg. “We’ll let you live. But we are gonna tell her.”

“Please don’t,” he whispered into the carpet. “Please let me disappear.”

Steve laughed. “You called me flower vanilla.”

Eddie groaned louder.

Robin snickers, “She’s gonna love this.”

“I was confessing to the wrong person!” Eddie was drunkly reasoning out.

“At least you were sweet about it.” Robin added.

“I need new friends.”

Robin and Steve just clinked beer bottles above his head while Eddie melted into the floor.

[velvetvexations]

I'm actually still really pissed off about Brooklyn Anon coming into my inbox to tell me I'm posting "something TERFs agree with" after an entire fucking week of me arguing with like six or seven different TERFs about Joseph Lobdell. Like literally an hour ago I got yet another TERF in my inbox bitching about it and this is what TRFs are trying to portray me as siding with TERFs on, because saying trans men were historically targeted with the word 'lesbian' and can be included in the label if they wish is the same as saying all trans men are women.

People hate trans men so much that when a trans woman defends them in any way they'll start doing this stupid bullshit where actually she's the real transandrophobe. And it's fucking annoying that people who do not engage with TERFs, who have no idea what TERFs believe because they never go anywhere near them and have never read anything they've ever written, will just openly ignore you actually having a Loony Tunes dust cloud fight with them for a fucking week to say you're in agreement with them on the very subject you've been fighting with them about.

But I'm just especially livid to have anything I've ever said twisted into the "people who believe in transandrophobia think trans men are female" narrative. Utterly infuriating. Complete fiction. I hate it here.

[desertduality]

This is such a vague prompt it's hardly any use to you, but I saw that you're taking fic prompts and wanted to know if you have anything apocalypse-related? Can be linked to Scar's backstory in Ad Astra and your other fics or can be totally original :]

Decided to go with something original for this one!! Enjoy some desert duo + Mumbo in the middle of a robot apocalypse :3

Word Count: 2956

------------------------

It’s completely stupid, is the thing, but Grian has never been able to stop Scar once he’s got an idea in his head. Not really. So he simply stands back with his arms crossed, idly watching their surroundings as Scar struggles to pry open the door to the bar. It’s been boarded up, nails rusted and wood beginning to rot. It’s been years since anyone has been here, probably. Grian is just surprised that whoever it was had even bothered to board up before they left. If they left. 

While Scar works, Grian does a quick scan of the area around them, one hand resting on the gun holstered at his side. It’s an older model, capable of shooting an electromagnetic pulse strong enough to take down any average android. It’s solar-powered, thankfully, but the battery only allows for up to four shots at a time. It’s the only EMP gun they’ve got; Scar’s weapon, while built similarly, shoots bolts of electricity. It might fry the smallest bots, but only stuns the bigger ones for a few seconds. Good in a pinch, but doesn’t offer a permanent solution. 

Grian has always preferred permanent solutions. 

The street they’re on is desolate, utterly devoid of life or movement. It had once been the Main Street of a popular town, lined with shops and restaurants and bars. Grian can imagine it — the echoes of shouts and laughter bouncing off the buildings, string lights stretched across the road and wrapped around trees, people in cars honking angrily at jay-walking pedestrians. The cacophony of existence. The sounds of dozens of people occupying the same space, experiencing joy and irritation and companionship. The heartbeat of the world, with all its peaks and valleys. Flatlined. 

There are cars abandoned in the streets, rusted and dented and sitting at odd angles. The sidewalk is broken up by tree roots and weeds, spreading into cracks in the asphalt. The street lamps are leaning or fallen entirely. Every storefront has dark or broken windows, victims to either abandonment or looters. Every building is adorned with torn awnings or peeled paint or crumbling bricks. Even the air is still, here. The heat is oppressive. It’s the middle of August, he thinks. It’ll be Scar’s birthday soon, which is maybe why Grian hadn’t fought very hard against this newest idea. It’s not like he can think of a better gift to get him. 

“Aha!” Scar’s triumphant exclamation pulls his attention, and Grian turns back, watching the last of the wooden boards that had been covering the door fall to the ground. 

Scar goes to open the door, an ecstatic smile stretched across his dirty face, and Grian bursts out laughing when it turns out to be locked. Scar’s expression drops, and then he throws his hands up in the air in exasperation, turning away from the offending barrier and sighing dramatically in the face of Grian’s genuine joy. 

“What, they were gonna board it up and not bother to lock it?” Grian teases, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know why they bothered with either!” Scar says, gesturing around at the general area. “It’s not like the robot army was gonna come swingin’ by for a drink!”

“It was probably more meant for people like us,” Grian says, a playful grin pulling at his mouth. His gaze drifts to the doorway, to the careful lettering displaying the name of the establishment. His eyes drop to the ground, to a small space next to the step leading to the door, to the child’s handprint embedded in the concrete, barely visible. “Or. They probably thought they’d come back someday.”

Scar doesn’t reply, though his mouth presses into a line and his eyes soften with that familiar sadness. He turns away, pulls an axe from his backpack, and starts taking swings at the doorknob. Grian stands there and watches. Eventually, the door gives way, and they go inside. 

It’s clear it was once a lovely place, with a stage at the far end of the room for performers, and several round wooden tables circled by wooden chairs set up around the space. There’s a door in the corner that Grian suspects leads to a kitchen, which makes him realize that it was a place that had once served food as well as a variety of alcohol. The bar itself is positioned in the middle of the room, a full circle with barstools set up all around it, a cylinder with shelves of alcohol in the middle of it. It’s the kind of place that Grian would’ve liked, before. Now, everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, chairs overturned and instruments abandoned on the stage. There is no host to greet them and no line to get in. There hasn’t been a line for ten years.

Scar bounds over to the bar with a renewed pep in his step, short ponytail swinging in bouncy movements behind him. Grian follows at a more sedate pace, wincing as Scar loudly clambers over the countertop to drop down on the other side, grinning up at the wall of alcohol with shining eyes. 

“Do you even know how to make a Molotov Cocktail?” Grian asks, hopping up to sit on one of the stools. 

“Psh, yeah, of course!” Scar says, waving him off. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

“I’ve known you for four years, and never once has that sentence preceded something being easy.”

“Oh, come on, Grian, have a little faith!” Scar offers him one of his signature smiles, and Grian stares at him flatly. 

“That’s exactly what you said before we raided that laboratory last winter.”

“And we lived.”

“The building exploded!” Grian exclaims, though he smiles at the memory, and Scar laughs, eyes crinkling as he turns back to peruse the selection. 

“It was pretty cool, though, you have to admit.”

“I am not above enjoying explosions,” Grian says, shrugging. “From a distance.”

“I know you carry sticks of dynamite around in your backpack, mister.”

“Mm-hm, so remind me why we need Molotov Cocktails?” 

“I’ve just always wanted to try it,” Scar says, pulling a dusty bottle from the shelf. He glances back at Grian. “Imagine a bot going up in flames! You can’t tell me you’re not a little excited.”

He is. He can’t lie and say he hadn't been intrigued when Scar had first brought up the idea. Practical? No. Fun? Absolutely. And fun was in such short supply these days.

“Alright,” Grian gives in with a sigh, propping his chin on his hand as he leans on the bartop. “Grab enough for me, too.”

Scar grins brightly, setting a few bottles down next to Grian as he whirls to continue his exploration. He kneels down to look in the lower cabinets, and Grian can only see the top of his head as he shuffles around, glass and metal clinking as he rummages through whatever’s down there. A few moments later, Scar makes an intrigued noise, and Grian cranes his neck trying to get a better look.

“What is it?” Grian asks. 

Scar’s voice is muffled from beneath the bar, laced with curiosity. “There’s a switch.”

Grian’s response is immediate. “Flip it.”

Scar’s head pokes up from behind the counter, an amused glint in his eye. “Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?”

“No.” Grian barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Flip it!”

“Aye, aye!” Scar salutes, ducking back down. “But if this explodes, it’s on you.”

“Why would the bar be rigged to explode?”

“It’s a crazy world!”

Grian rolls his eyes, listening to Scar’s grunting at the strain of hunching over, and then a few seconds later there’s the sound of a switch being flipped. At first, nothing happens, which Grian had anticipated — but soon enough the low wine of electricity fills the air, the lights around the bar flickering and sparking a few times before settling, brightening the space. Grian leaps up from his stool in surprise, heart racing from the sudden change, flinching when Scar lets out a yelp and tries to stand up, banging his head on the underside of the bar and rattling a few glasses. 

“Did the lights just come on?!” Scar exclaims, half afraid and half amazed, standing up and absently rubbing the top of his head as he whirls around in shock. 

Grian nods vacantly, trying to calm down. “The place must be on a generator.”

“Well, jeez,” Scar says, laughing anxiously. “If the world wasn’t broken, I’d endorse whatever brand survived a decade of the apocalypse."

Grian chuckles, shaking his head helplessly, a little awestruck by the sight of working electricity. Usually, apart from the robots, nothing glowed, anymore. 

“I’d back that endorsement,” Grian says, squinting up at the lights. “I wonder why—”

A crash from the other side of the bar buries his words in an avalanche of terror, his hand automatically falling to the gun at his side, muscles tensing as his eyes dart around the area. Scar’s expression floods with fear, muscles of his jaw tensing as he presses his back to the bar, drawing his own weapon into his hands. The shelves of alcohol block their view of the other side of the bar, and Grian exchanges a weighted look with Scar. After years of surviving together, they are well versed in the art of silent communication. 

Grian, still on the customer side of the bar, slowly creeps to the right, and Scar follows parallel to him on the other side. They’ve been in a lot of life-or-death situations over the years. Best case scenario, it’s just an animal that had snuck its way in somehow. A rat, maybe. 

It’s…not a rat.

Scar freezes whole seconds before Grian does, able to get a view of the thing sooner due to being on the inside of the bar. Grian comes closer, blocked by the counter, peeking around Scar’s shoulder, slowly removing his gun from its holster. On the floor a few meters from Scar’s feet is... a man. He’s sprawled on the ground surrounded by broken glass, long limbs spread across the small space as if he’d tried to grab several different surfaces on his way down. He’s wearing a suit. Like, a full suit, with a red tie and everything. Face clean shaven except for a remarkably perfect mustache. He looks too clean, almost, like the only thing that’s ever touched him is the dust clinging to his clothes. The thought settles uncomfortably in his mind, realization settling in, and the thing opening its eyes confirms it. 

Bright, unnatural blue. Pupil like a camera lens, if you ever got close enough. Not a man at all. 

An android.

Scar curses, jerking backwards into the bar, hitting his hip against it and knocking a few more glasses over in the process. Grian scrambles closer, slamming his arms across the countertop as he takes a steady aim at the android, finger already going for the trigger. The robot has started to scramble to its feet, startled noises escaping from its mouth, hands grasping clumsily at the nearest shelf. 

Grian almost does it. Almost pulls the trigger. Has done it over a hundred times by now. He’s not sure what stops him. Call it temporary insanity. Or maybe it’s just that the expression of fear and confusion on the robot's face looks just a little too human. 

“Wha— Wait, just— just take the money!” The robot shouts, voice high and anxious, arms raised in the air as he finally gets to his feet. His eyes are wide, flickering between the two weapons aimed at him with apparent nerves. He makes a short gesture towards a cash register nearby. “There’s barely a hundred, but– but you’re welcome to it! Or, not– not welcome, I suppose, but–”

“Huh?” Scar’s voice is hoarse, shellshocked. His gun lowers and points towards the floor, his expression pinched and confused. 

“I’m not allowed to keep more than three hundred,” the robot continues to ramble frantically, shifting anxiously in place. “Really, it’s– it’s a safety thing, I think, in case– Well.”

There’s an incredibly awkward silence, in which Grian can only hear his own heartbeat and Scar’s heavy breathing. Every android they’ve ever met since the uprising has tried to kill them on sight. He’s not had any practice, killing something that could plead for its life. Something as afraid as they are. He doesn’t know what to do, hand still on his gun, finger still on the trigger. Waiting.

“...We’re not here for money,” Grian says eventually.

The robot frowns, brow furrowing in confusion, gaze drifting to the shelves nearby. “The alcohol?” it asks. 

Grian blinks, shoulders dropping. What on earth. 

“Technically, yes?” Scar responds, hesitant, but Grian knows him well enough to hear the beginning notes of curious excitement in his voice. “We were gonna make Molotov Cocktails.”

The robot looks alarmed. “That’s dangerous.”

“It’s a dangerous world,” Grian replies. 

The android frowns at him, and then seems to finally take in the state of the establishment — clearly abandoned — and the state of Grian and Scar, clearly surviving on a steady diet of wishes and prayers, dirty and scarred. 

“I’ve missed something,” says the robot. 

“Yeah, the memo, apparently,” Scar bursts, gesturing wildly. “The robot revolution forgot to draft you or what?”

“Revolution?!”

“An estimated 60% of humanity is dead,” Grian says bluntly. “And that’s the number from before the guy who did the estimating was killed.”

Grian didn’t know it was possible for a robot to look faint, but this one pulls it off. Scar looks almost concerned, and Grian sighs, swearing viciously in his head. It goes against every instinct he has, but he holsters his gun.

“Are you going to kill us?” Grian asks bluntly, graciously ignoring the snort Scar lets out. 

The robot shakes its head viciously. “I’m programmed to be peaceful!” it yelps. “I don’t even— I wouldn’t know how.”

Grian looks it up and down, noting the distinct lack of weaponry. It usually didn’t mean anything, as many androids were quite adept at killing with their hands, but— well. For whatever reason, Grian is inclined to believe this one. 

“That’s a first,” Scar says, voice slipping into that friendly tone he’s used with other survivors in the past. “You got a name?”

“Oh. I’m— They usually call me Mumbo Jumbo.”

A crooked smile appears on Scar’s face, eyes sparkling in amusement. “That’s a mouthful.”

“That’s the name of this place,” Grian adds, remembering the lettering on the door. “Guess your… employers weren’t very creative.”

“We’ll just call you Mumbo,” Scar says, and—

Oh god, they’re adopting a robot. Grian might tear his hair out. 

“A nickname,” Mumbo says, sounding almost in awe. “What’s— May I ask your names?”

“I’m Scar,” Scar says, grinning, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to point at Grian, “and that’s Grian. You’ll have to forgive his grumpy face. Usually we’re running from an explosion by now. He’s disappointed.”

Mumbo laughs, and then seems surprised he did it. Scar’s face lights up with glee, and Grian softens, settling back down into a barstool with a heavy sigh. Fine. What could possibly go wrong?

“I suppose that explains your desire to create Molotov Cocktails?” Mumbo says, tilting his head. “Though I don’t know how effective it would be against my kind. I myself am relatively fire resistant."

“It’s about the flare, though,” Scar insists, clearly gearing up to argue, and Grian drops his head down to the counter with a dull thud. “Nothing beats a good fire, it just really makes a point, you know?”

“Well, I– I can’t say I’ve really thought about it before,” Mumbo says, though he sounds genuinely thoughtful now. “I’ve not seen a good fire before. Or an explosion for that matter.”

“Well, stick with us and we can show you,” Scar says brightly, and Grian can clearly picture the shape of his grin. 

“Stick with you?” Mumbo repeats, sounding…hopeful. “I can– go with you?”

“Well, sure!” Scar says, and then leans over to poke Grian’s shoulder. “Grian?”

Grian lifts his head, taking in the sight of both Scar and Mumbo’s pleading eyes. He feels like he’s dreaming. Debatable whether or not it’s a nightmare. Still, there’s only one answer he can bring himself to give them.

“It’s not like you’ll use up our food and water rations,” Grian says, an acceptance. 

Mumbo’s face lights up. “I can be solar powered!”

“Amazin’!” Scar says, bouncing closer to the robot without a care in the world, standing next to him as he once again scans the wall of alcohol. “So, what were you, a bartender? You think you could make us some drinks before we go?”

“Of course!” The robot seems delighted to have been given a task, the last of the apprehension vanishing from his face as he mirrors Scar and takes note of the bottles on the shelves. “What would you like?”

“Sweetest thing you’ve got, for me,” Scar says, jumping back over the bar to join Grian on the other side, plopping down into the stool right next to him. “Thanks!”

“No problem, mate,” Mumbo replies, turning to Grian with questioning eyes. “Grian?”

Ten minutes ago his life had been normal, relatively speaking. Now he’s being served in a bar for the first time in ten years, sitting next to his friend who had come in here to make an incendiary device, sitting across from an android, the rest of whose kind is currently wiping out the human race. And this one is asking him what drink he wants. 

With a pained groan, Grian lets his head fall back to the countertop, closing his eyes. “Vodka,” he says miserably.

Scar laughs, and Mumbo chuckles awkwardly, and despite himself, Grian grins.

[hikariyaps]

love at first sight? yeah right.

word count ☆ 0.6k pairing ☆ teen sorcerer satoru x fem!reader content ☆ fluffyy <3 a/n: could not make this a long fic please forgive me. this request.

...

satoru gojo did not believe in love at first sight. after all, that was they type of stuff that happened in fairytales and delusions, right?

so why was he swearing to god he's in love when you walk into the classroom the first time? his jaw drops the moment his eyes land on you. he swears his heart skips a beat. surely you just look good?

you can't be pretty and nice can you?

you can. you most definitely can. you're overwhelmingly nice. you always smile at him and it makes him weak in the knees. he hates this. he utterly despises it.

he tries so hard not to talk to you, not to be around you, tries so hard to not get to know you. but he's like a moth. and you're the flame. he cannot stay away from you.

to make things worse you have an amazing personality. you're a fun person. like a genuinely fun person. suguru and shoko might be his best friends, but you? you completed him.

kidnapping yaga's moped? you were his partner in crime. gorging on food after missions? you guys were competing on who could finish first. he had to face it. you were perfect.

and you? the moment you laid your gaze on satoru, your mind went 'oh my!' and the more you got to know him, the more you fell in love with him.

suguru might be pretty sure. but satoru was ethereal. besides he matched your energy. you had the most fun when you were with him. both of you were free to let your childish side show when you were with each other. you didn't have to put up facades. there was comfort in each other. to each other you guys weren't the strongest in jujutsu society, you were you. carefree, reckless souls who dared for adventure.

each moment shared with you only made it harder for satoru to stay true to the stupid thought he'd conjured. until one day, he just couldn't do it anyomore. he couldn't just pretend you didn't have an effect on him. because you had all the effects on him. he feels like a female lead from a romance novel whenever he's with you. heart pounding, palms clammy whenever you got too close.

you cherished every moment you had with him because you'd decided you didn't want to ruin things and overstep your boundaries. you stole glances at him whenever possible. you had an album on your gallery dedicated to him.

so after you guys got assigned a mission together, he decided. he was going to do it. only the idiot didn't do it before or after the mission. he decided to confess while fighting the curse. just so that if you rejected him, he could turn off infinity and just let himself die. you obviously yelled at him to focus on fighting and then told him you'd listen to him after the fighting was done. he ends the curse right then and there.

you march over to him and grab his collar and start yelling about how reckless that was and he kisses you. he kisses you and you kiss him back. and that's how you guys left jujutsu high a situationship and came back arguing like an old married couple because well, you'd liked each other long enough and were definitely going to stay together until you die.

why not start early?

©hikariyaps2025

[davekat-sucks]

Hussie himself blames Karkat for forcing things with Terezi in his comment about the karezi in one of the Homestuck books.

Hussie also said davekat was planned from the beginning, and that johnrose sucked and was milquetoast vanilla. Look at what he considers "interesting" or compelling pairing: Rosemary cucking ntr furry shitfest.

I say his opinions are worth jackshit and he's making excuses for how utterly abysmal his writing was with Karkat and Terezi, both separately and together.

The tragedy of Karezi is that according to Hussie, Karkat's emotional instability pushed Terezi into Dave's arms and also deepened her depression and that's why she fell into lust with Gamzee. There can be no Daverezi or Gamrezi without Karkat's ineptitude. That's why I like Karezi, has much more weight than any other ship with Terezi.

Anon with all due respect this is an awful reason to ship Karezi.

If you like Karezi, that’s fine. Say it’s because of their banter, their early connection and fun chemistry, the emotional vulnerability they shared with Karkat's mutancy, or the narrative potential they had. Those are real, grounded reason to support the ship.

But liking it because you believe Karkat’s instability Terezi gave depression and "pushed her into Dave's arms" and even made her "fall into lust" (?????????) with Gamzee isn't good. It's sad and like a cautionary tale, and even sounds like incel rethoric.

Because what's the moral here? That Karkat was right to be possessive and Terezi is a stupid idiot for not choosing him instead? What's the difference with "There can be no Daverezi or Gamrezi without Karkat's ineptitude" to Karkat tipping his fedora and saying "if only I had been better, she wouldn't have gone for Chad instead/or that other abusive creep that beat her up", while he did JACKSHIT to help defend Terezi from Gamzee.

It reduces Terezi's depression to glorify's Karkat's suffering, or make her a passive victim whose every decision is just a response to a guy’s failure to man the fuck up and help defend his friend whom he loved from his own fucking moirail.

It's not helping why I genuinely think Karkat's dogshit turn for his character is what makes people not realize they are saying ridiculous things instead of admitting that Karkat plain out sucked and became an incel in Act 6.

It’s the same as Vrisrezi stans who excuse all of Vriska’s abusive and manipulative behavior by saying “she was a victim of society!!!” as if that nullifies accountability. Or Davekat fans who scapegoat Terezi for everything that went wrong on that cursed meteor, accusing her of “cheating” on Dave with Gamzee while conveniently ignoring how Dave completely also failed to support her, understand her culture/quadrants, or even stand up to Gamzee himself too, like how he also didn't even bother to help his own sister with her alcoholism and put all the responsibility onto Kanaya, who didn't even know what alcohol was.

And that's also a tragedy for Dave's characters and his friendship with Terezi. Because Daverezi was not a bad relationship at all in the beginning, they had fun together and Terezi cared about Dave to the point she cried when he died, like Karkat also did TWICE when Sollux died or Kanaya also died. Funny how Nobody said Karkat did that to make Terezi jealous, or even called him out for suddenly being so proactive in pursuing John and Jade the same day he met them, as if replacing what he felt for Terezi or suddenly expressing his feelings was that easy for him.

And again, Terezi is not passive, her whole thing is making "choices" whether good or bad, and trying to live with the consequences/responsibilities of her actions (or not, in the case of the Vriska retcon, which ruined her character. alongside never adressing how she also mass murdered innocent trolls with her while trying to play "justice"). She would have made her choice in dating Dave regardless if Karkat "was foolish" or not. She didn't owe him a relationship because he liked her, and him making that ridiculous schedule to "share" her with Dave when Karkat wasn't even dating her, and even making a possible break up between them all about himself or pulling an Eridan in that he tried to butt himself in between their relationship shows he felt entitled despite doing no effort from his part before this to care for Terezi beyond his stupid mind games with Jade or taking Terezi and her cheerleading for granted.

You know what would have been nice for Karkat to show he cared about her just as reciprocally, or show why Terezi likes him so much in the first place? If Hussie wrote, for example, that Karkat was always afraid of going outside his house out of fear of being culled, but when he heard that Terezi got blinded by Vriska, he stepped outside to help her regardless of what could happen to him, because he wanted Terezi to be safe first and foremost, so he risks himself for her despite his fear because he loves her and doesn't want her to be culled. He could also done the same for Sollux, his best friend who also died twice for him and who he never even fucking thanked and even insulted. He could have comforted him after Vriska also mindcontrolled him to kill Aradia, and could have picked both him and Terezi up to hide in his hive, and told Vriska to suck his dick.

There. So easy to fix Karkat's character.

But no, fuck those two, Act 6 Karkat """"cares"""" for Terezi like how he """"cares"""" for his friends. Which is absolutely none, because since Terezi chose not to date him, he doesn't have time to go god tier, try to revive them or even remember they exist, for he's too busy watching movies, crying in his self pity parties or sucking Dave (his Sollux replacement) off. Let's allow Vriska to take his place, both in leadership, and also in defending Terezi from Gamzee. It's not like Karkat is literally his moirail and the only one capable of actually standing up to him.

And that's why Terezi chose to replace him with Gamzee or Vriska, who also treated her like shit and brings the absolute worst out of her. Because at least Vriska appears confident, and nobody else in Terezi's life, like Dave, Karkat, Kanaya or Aradia or anyone else gave a shit about her during act 6. And we got this nonsensical rant from her proclaiming her love for Vriska.

GC: BUT 1 LOV3 TH3M 4LL GC: 1 DON'T KNOW WH4T 1S WRONG W1TH M3 GC: TH4T 1 C4N'T JUST S4Y STUFF L1K3 TH4T, D1R3CTLY TO P3OPL3 GC: TH3Y C3RT41NLY DON'T 4PP34R TO H4V3 TH4T PROBL3M GC: 4ND YOU N3V3R S33M3D TO H4V3 MUCH TROUBL3 S4Y1NG WH4T3V3R W4S ON YOUR M1ND GC: M4YB3 TH4T'S WHY... GC: 1 H4V3 SO MUCH TROUBL3 W1TH TH3 1D34 OF L3TT1NG GO OF YOU GC: YOU 4R3N'T 4FR41D OF WH4T'S 1NS1D3 YOUR M1ND GC: YOU 4LW4YS S33M 4T 34S3 W1TH YOUR OWN C4P4C1T13S GC: 3V3N 1F TH3Y L34D YOU DOWN 4 RO4D OF S3LF D3STRUCT1ON GC: L1K3, Y34H, W3'V3 CL4SH3D ON STUFF GC: 1 4CT3D L1K3 1T W4S 4LL 4BOUT 1D34LS GC: 4ND HOW M1N3 W3R3 B3TT3R OR SOM3TH1NG GC: BUT M4YB3 GC: 1 W4S JUST P1SS3D 4BOUT YOUR 4TT1TUD3 OF C3RT41NTY GC: 4ND 4NGRY 4T MYS3LF FOR NOT H4V1NG 1T GC: 1 TH1NK 1T'S SOM3TH1NG 1 N33D3D 1N MY L1F3 GC: 3V3N 1F 1T C4M3 FROM SOM3ON3 3LS3 GC: 1F ONLY TO K33P M3 4SSUR3D 1T'S POSS1BL3 TO F33L TH4T W4Y GC: 1 KNOW YOU TH1NK 1'M W34K FOR N33D1NG YOU

She didn't "need" him, the only person that paid attention to her.... But she did need her. That's the idiotic conclusion Hussie came for Terezi's awful character. She doesn't need to be Karkat's prize, who takes her for granted, she should be Vriska's prize instead, who ALSO takes her for granted.

Karkat wanted to be an executioner for the Condesce, someone who culled innocent trolls like Terezi for being blind, but when it came to actually taking responsibility for executing someone dangerous like Vriska, who was the ENTIRE REASON Terezi was blind in the first place, and his friends died because she created Bec Noir to play hero, or even Sollux was also depressed because she forced him to kill Aradia, since nobody else cared to defend Tavros, he didn't do shit and pissed his pants. That burden fell on Terezi, and it broke her.

She had to live with the crushing guilt of killing someone who had once been close to her, someone she still had complicated feelings about (regardless of how awful vrisrezi is). Karkat could’ve helped her carry that burden and made that call instead as a leader, it could have made him understood being an executioner is nothing he glamorized, that he was wrong in his ideals. He could’ve acted and helped innocents like Solllux, Aradia, Tavros, Nepeta, Equius, Feferi. But he was so uncertain of even something as simple as his own feelings, he failed as a leader to protect and to reassure Terezi of her decisions to kill Vriska, since she also had to take that responsibility onto herself since Karkat never bothered to confront her, Eridan, or Gamzee until it was too late.

He never helped her carry the weight of that choice. He avoided responsibility, and then made it all about how hurt he was that she didn’t choose him, not about what she went through. That’s not love. That’s cowardice.

He didn’t to care about WHY she was depressed or what she'd gone through a decision that she had to shoulder alone, that made her self esteem so low she made a bad choice in dating Gamzee. He cared that she didn’t pick him. That was the focus of his anguish. His own bruised feelings. Just like how he doesn't give a shit about how he called HIC awesome and excused her culling as long as he was an exception, he didn't think how that would affect Terezi.

KARKAT: IT'S SIMPLE. IF YOU HADN'T KILLED HER, YOU WOULD HAVE WITHERED AWAY IN A DOOMED TIMELINE. TEREZI: Y34H! 4ND SOM3T1M3S 1 W1SH 1 H4D! TEREZI: 4T TH1S PO1NT 1 TH1NK 1 WOULD R4TH3R B3 TH3 B3TT3R P3RSON WHO M4D3 TH3 R1GHT D3C1S1ON TEREZI: 3V3N 1F 1T 4LSO M34NT B31NG TH3 ON3 TO F4D3 4W4Y FOR3V3R KARKAT: WELL, *I* WOULDN'T WANT THAT! KARKAT: DOES THAT FUCKING MATTER TO YOU? KARKAT: DOES THAT FACTOR ANYWHERE INTO YOUR DREARY EXISTENTIAL EQUATION???

Oh but Karkat thinks Terezi is beautiful. OK.

Not as beautiful as Dave though, apparently.

KARKAT: HER RAD GIRL THING IS SUCH AN OBVIOUS ACT. SHE'S CLEARLY WORKED FOR SWEEPS ON PERFECTING IT, AND QUITE APPARENTLY REVELS IN THE ATTENTION IT GETS HER. KARKAT: [[[BUT THE FACT THAT SHE WORKS SO HARD ON IT IS EXACTLY WHY YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. KARKAT: YOU DON'T EVEN NEED TO TRY TO BE THE GOOD PERSON YOU ALREADY ARE.]]] KARKAT: SEE, YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO HAVE FUN AND BE LIKABLE BY JUST BEING YOURSELF. IT DOESN'T NEED TO BE PART OF SOME OVER THE TOP SCHTICK TO IMPRESS PEOPLE. [[[WHEN SHE DOES THE RAD GIRL THING IT'S LIKE A DISGUISE, PROBABLY COVERING UP SOME PART OF HERSELF SHE'S UNHAPPY WITH.]]]] BUT WHEN YOU WITHDRAW AND COVER YOURSELF UP LIKE THAT, YOU'RE ACTUALLY JUST PREVENTING PEOPLE FROM SEEING SOMEONE WHO'S ALREADY BEAUTIFUL.

GC: 1 TH1NK 1T M4D3 M3 R34L1Z3 TH1S 4BOUT US GC: OR 4BOUT MYS3LF GC: 1 N3V3R F3LT WHOL3 GC: 1 ST1LL DON'T GC: 4ND YOU M4D3 1T SO 1 D1DN'T H4V3 TO F4C3 TH4T F33L1NG GC: FOR 4 WH1L3 4T L34ST GC: 4ND NOW TH4T 1 TH1NK 1 KNOW TH1S 4BOUT MYS3LF GC: 1 TH1NK 1 G3T 1T GC: TH3 F33L1NG W1LL PROB4BLY N3V3R GO 4W4Y GC: ONLY COV3R3D UP 4T MOST, M4YB3 GC: W3 COULD W1N TH1S F1GHT GC: CR34T3 4NOTH3R UN1V3RS3 GC: SUCC33D 1N 3V3RY W4Y POSS1BL3 GC: 4ND 1'LL ST1LL F33L 1NCOMPL3T3 GC: V1CTORY WON'T F1X M3 GC: M4YB3 NOTH1NG C4N GC: M4YB3 TH3R3'S TOO L1TTL3 SUBST4NC3 1NS1D3 M3 TO 3V3N B3 F1X3D

GC: 4 L1TTL3 TOO MUCH R34L1TY FROM 4N 1D1OT WHO'S MOR3 M3SS3D UP 1NS1D3 TH4N SH3 3V3R L3TS ON

TEREZI: HOW D1D YOU KNOW W3 W3R3 D4T1NG! TEREZI: D1D H3 T3LL YOU? KARKAT: OH MY GOD. TEREZI, YOU ARE A FUCKING CATASTROPHE. KARKAT: YOU USED TO BE LIKE, CUNNING? AND CONSIDERABLY MORE INTELLIGENT THAN ME, WHICH I HAVE NO PROBLEM ADMITTING. KARKAT: BUT THIS IS RIDICULOUS. EVEN IF I DIDN'T FIGURE IT OUT MYSELF, WHICH I *DID* BECAUSE IT WAS *OBVIOUS*, YOU ARE UP HERE ON THE ROOF LYING UNCONSCIOUS IN A PILE OF HONK HORNS AND FAYGO BOTTLES.

KARKAT: OH COME ON KARKAT: DON'T TELL ME THIS IS GOING TO BE A THING WITH YOU NOW. TEREZI: WH4T TH1NG? KARKAT: A SELF ESTEEM THING. KARKAT: YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T BE LIKE THAT, IT'S JUST SO UNWARRANTED. TEREZI: W3LL TH4TS HOW 1 F33L, SO TOO B4D!!!

Karkat unawarely dehumanized/insulted Terezi, because he never understood her. That's the stupid bullshit Hussie tried to do with their relationship and what's he's trying to bring up on his idiotic commentary, Karkat is obsessed with shitty romcoms, Terezi's was Karkat's "manic pixie dream girl" to his "brooding, sheltered hero" that brought meaning and support to his ugly cursed meaningless mutant existence, because he hates himself so fucking much.

The main guy/main girl didn't end up together because Karkat doesn't actually understands her, only sees her as such. When Terezi is suddenly the one "brooding", Karkat thinks she's not "herself", aka her one dimensional trope. And Terezi feels conflicted over him, because she feels emotionally neglected by how much of a brute dismissive asshole he is to her, and she's right, but he's still literally the only one that calls her beautiful and bothers to check on her because Terezi has no friends and no purpose beyond being his love interest, like how Manic Pixie dream girls only exist to support the protagonist and have no life outside of him. That's why she feels "empty" and having "no sustance".

GC: 1 N3V3R F3LT WHOL3 GC: 1 ST1LL DON'T GC: 4ND YOU M4D3 1T SO 1 D1DN'T H4V3 TO F4C3 TH4T F33L1NG GC: FOR 4 WH1L3 4T L34ST GC: 4ND NOW TH4T 1 TH1NK 1 KNOW TH1S 4BOUT MYS3LF GC: 1 TH1NK 1 G3T 1T GC: TH3 F33L1NG W1LL PROB4BLY N3V3R GO 4W4Y GC: ONLY COV3R3D UP 4T MOST, M4YB3 GC: W3 COULD W1N TH1S F1GHT GC: CR34T3 4NOTH3R UN1V3RS3 GC: SUCC33D 1N 3V3RY W4Y POSS1BL3 GC: 4ND 1'LL ST1LL F33L 1NCOMPL3T3 GC: V1CTORY WON'T F1X M3 GC: M4YB3 NOTH1NG C4N GC: M4YB3 TH3R3'S TOO L1TTL3 SUBST4NC3 1NS1D3 M3 TO 3V3N B3 F1X3D

Stupid meta subversion of tropes, like always. Karkat does fucking Jackshit in the story, because expectations says the main protagonist and leader should do the MOST important things and Win The Girl. So, like John doesn't end up with Rose, Karkat also doesn't end up with Terezi, he unexpectedly """""wins""""" the Strider for the fujobucks, and Vriska does it all instead, and also takes his place in defending the damsel in distress Terezi from evil Gamzee, and wins her heart. Because women and girlbosses or some shit.

Anyways, Karkat is still worse than davekat.

Karkat is still worse than Davekat.

[likeimsittinginanairportbar]

friendly reminder that the lego batman movie is the best batman movie of all time

[moffie-moff]

So if denizens of the Card Kingdom and Cyber City have been brought to TV world because someone brought things from the computer lab/unused classroom into the Dreamurr house, then there’s a non-zero chance that King and Queen first met there.

And there’s only so many times that a random deck of playing cards and a library issued laptop would be in the same room (dark world).

So like. Was Lancer conceived in Kris’s living room?

Perhaps.

Do darkners even have familial relationships that aren’t completely arbitrary?

Probably not but it would be really. Really funny.

[venomouslilith]

.

[fix-me-sixteen]

did. did neil just ask nicky why he's gay

[isdalinarhot]

literally having one of those So Depressed I Haven't Even Thought About Dalinar For More Than Like Three Minutes days. one of those "literally unable to get out of bed (if you don't count getting up like twice for piss breaks)" days. one of those "i can't even relapse about it because thats too many steps" days. id say hatred malice but i have not felt a single emotion all day

[chainsawworld]

I hope all my besties know that my lack of initiative in our relationship isn't a lack of interest in you its just me being so scared of coming across as annoying that I don't do anything until prompted to

[david-watts]

what was actually wrong with seventeen-year-old me jesus fucking christ

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

rewatching 13s era for me is not so much diminishing returns as it is something opposite and eviler...............increasing losses? increasing losses

[hussyknee]

So. Anyone else feeling a little unhinged rn?

[desire-demon-wish]

And while we’re talking about it: that’s the stupidest decision I’ve ever been forced to make. Are you actually joking? Minrathous couldn’t stop a blighted dragon?? We didn’t even do anything special in Treviso! It’s not like the dagger played any role in it! Nor did any other special abilities! All I did was hit it! There was literally no reason for the other one to be the death of Minrathous!!!!!!!! This is so dumb!!!!

[starrysmiling]

on fern and romance...

in one of the new scenes in steps v2, i have fresia tease fern about how they would be a great couple because of how comfortable he looks when he's with jax, and how he even willingly laughs and smiles, but fern argues that he doesn't like jax the same way:

...and it was really interesting to make this stand out while writing this scene, because there are several instances where i've made fern say that he's close with jax, he cares about him, or that he likes being around him:

at this point it was kinda a recurring joke between mage and i to say "and fern still says he doesn't like jax! even though he's like this with him!" but we dug a little into it, and it feels like we accidentally made all the clues point to one thing:

despite his observant nature and how much the reader can tell he obviously cares about jax, fern being unable to recognise his own feelings is because he only knows how to recognise signs of romance when they're physically expressed.

because, if you think about it, you don't really get to see the internal aspects of showing interest in someone when you observe other people. even in media, there's a lot of cases where you're shown physical external signs of attraction/romance, and that's why fern can recognise flirting, or how someone talks to someone they like, or the way jax looks at him like he deserves the world... that's exactly why he can tell that jax is in love with him, because jax wears his heart on his sleeve and is far too easy to read.

but he doesn't know any of the internal tells, which he's starting to show. and of course, fern doesn't express any of these physical signs, because he's a fucker who won't express vulnerability. this isn't really helped at all by the fact that fern doesn't have that many close friends to compare his relationships with, and that the line between the close friendship he has with jax and possible romance is very blurred, especially when he knows that jax is romantically interested in him.

it's only later (which i'll address in a different fic) that fern sorts out his feelings and what they mean, because at that point he's having a crisis over having kissed jax at the end of steps, knowing that it's a romantic gesture, knowing that jax took it as a reciprocation of his feelings, because he still doesn't think he likes jax but every fucking fibre of his body is screaming that he hates the idea of rejecting jax, for a multitude of reasons including that he doesn't want to see jax all broken up, he doesn't want to be the one who hurt him, and also his fear of abandonment is making him think that jax will just straight up cut him out of his life. and the conclusion he gets from that is that he wishes he was in love with jax, while being completely unaware that he's been walking down that path for a while now.

(which is funny, because afterwards, when he's finally sure that what he feels for jax is romantic love, he's down so bad that he's even worse than jax. fern loves and loves and loves and he cares so much but he just needs to recognise what it is.)

(one other thing i love about fern and his journey with romance is that he realises he loves jax when they're sitting together watching tv and he thinks that he likes it. that he could have more of this. that he is genuinely happy to sit next to jax and make snide comments about the shitty plotlines of tv dramas and maybe rest his cheek on jax's shoulder while he does so. jax gives him comfort and a space where he can shed himself of everything weighing on his shoulders while still being his rival and best friend and someone that fern respects with all his heart. it's no wonder that fern loves him so much.)