#and of course the usual banking bullshit

[mzminola]

This is not a perfect analogy but I am making it anyway to try to convey what being online has been like for me lately.

Seeing people say "Oh, Jews are fine, I just hate zionists!" is like seeing "Oh, women are fine, I just hate feminists!"

Zionism and feminism are both very broad socio-political movements that have changed focus over time, that ostensibly have some very basic core tenets but you really need to ask the specific person you're talking to how they personally define it to be sure.

Both have been subject to legitimate criticism, and hostile reactionary bullshit. Had waves, sub-movements, splinters, people with damn near opposite views sharing the term and people with seemingly identical views rejecting it.

You can give working, broad definitions like these:

Feminism is the belief that all people should be treated equally regardless of gender, with a focus on women's rights due to systemic oppression.

Zionism is the belief that all peoples have the right to self determination and safety, with a focus on Jewish people finding it in Israel.

You can also give different definitions! Many people give different definitions! Many people also hold these beliefs but use different names for them for various reasons.

There are self-described zionists who are jingoistic, racist, etc, and who attribute those attitudes to their zionism. Just as there are feminists who are misandrist, bio-essentialist, transphobic, homophobic, and so on, who attribute those attitudes to their feminism.

There are also incredibly selfless, compassionate activists working for positive change in the world who consider themselves zionists and feminists.

It has been very jarring to see people, who I respect, uncritically reblogging posts or headlines that use "zionists" as a stand in for "bad people", just as jarring as it would be to see them sharing things that use "feminists" that way. Especially when those posts contain easily debunked conspiracy theories that I know you'd have seen right through if the OP said "Jews" but because they said "zionists" you swallowed it whole.

I am not asking anyone to stop sharing important information, petitions, news articles, resources, and so on. I am asking you to slow down and stop spreading inflammatory language that paints a broad socio-political movement for Jewish self-determination as inherently bad. The same way I would ask you not to spread inflammatory language that paints gender equality & women's liberation as inherently bad.

If the information is important, please look for other, more neutrally worded posts. Or verify the links yourself and make a fresh post! There is no situation online in which the only way to share information must be to spread such language.

[adiduck]

WIP Wednesday

Semi-spicy scene for Operation Groundhog AU today ;) Enjoy!

-

Ice hears about the training for the next couple of days via dry, written reports from Cyclone, from Warlock, from Mav himself. Mav puts the twelve aviators from 2019 on hops running the first half of the course--goes easy on them with the distance from the ground and the time they have to reach the target.

Lieutenants Kazansky and Mitchell, however, he’s got running drills in their jets--basic maneuvers, dogfights, canyon runs well over the heads of the other aviators. They’re good, is the general consensus--Ice knows that already--but they’ve never been in an F-18E before. It’s smaller than they’re used to. Not faster, but more maneuverable. It has different tics, different eccentricities, and it doesn’t do that semi-disturbing shimmy that the Tomcats, beautiful beasts that they were, tended to do when you held the rudder too long on the bank. They’re making progress--fast progress--but they’re not really running the course.

Mav’s getting anxious.

At home, Mav whispers more details into Ice’s neck and shoulder at night, collapsing exhausted into a chair in Ice’s office or into Ice’s side on the couch or into bed beside Ice when he finally gets home--too late, exhausted, and starving. Lieutenant Mitchell is restless. Lieutenant Bradshaw hesitates to reach the speeds he will need, and won’t listen to Mav when he tells him to stop thinking so hard. Lieutenant Seresin won’t stay with his wingman.

He’s worried about Lieutenant Kazansky, too, but he seems less inclined to complain to Ice about it. Which, honestly, is hilarious.

Instead, he gets a lot of whining. “He calls me ‘sir’, and it’s so unimaginably weird,” Mav complains. “It throws me every time--not a good look. I’ve been a Captain for six years, Ice!”

“That does sound like a problem for you,” Ice croaks out. It’s been a good day--thanks to more ibuprofen and tylenol than he should probably take, but still. It’s rare that he has a voice this late at night, usually. He’s enjoying it, and very thoroughly ignoring Mav’s pointed looks to rest it. As though Ice’s voice can be stored up for special occasions or something.

Mav kicks him, and then settles back into Ice’s side to continue complaining. “It’s definitely not helping,” he grumbles. “I’m having a hard enough time getting these kids to respect me. And mini-me is not fucking helping with his bullshit.”

Ice smiles and doesn’t say anything. Mav, probably sensing that Ice is mentally making fun of him uproariously, kicks him again.

“It’s not my fault,” he grumbles. “I usually just get everyone to call me by my call-sign, but I can’t this time because there’s fucking two Mavericks running around, and really it’s more important they bond with him. And--well, you’ve never called me ‘sir’ in your life, and it’s bizarre.”

…Huh. Ice thinks about that a minute. “You know,” he says, and lets the hand that’s been tracing Mav’s shoulders--careful of the harness bruises--press down with slightly more intent. “If the issue is you’re not used to it, we could practice.”

Mav stills. “Practice.”

“Mhm,” Ice says, and shifts just a little, so that their legs slot together just slightly more securely, so that he can turn his head, draw his lips down Mav’s temple towards his ear, draw his fingers further down the lines of Mav’s back, pressed against his spine. “Reporting for duty, sir,” he whispers into Mav’s ear, and grins as he feels it go hot, as Mav’s face goes bright red and the position of their hips betrays a sudden, burning interest.

“Jesus,” Mav chokes. “You are going to kill me.”

“That’s not a no,” Ice says. “Sir.”

Mav lunges up and forward all at once, body dragging up Ice’s and mouth crashing into Ice’s mouth with an intent that burns straight down to Ice’s toes. Ice gasps, tilts his head back to give Mav a better angle, lets Mav slide his tongue past Ice’s teeth, deliberate and claiming.

“And what do I call you, in this scenario,” Mav near-growls, running his hands down Ice’s sides like Ice is his to touch, to hold--possessive and claiming and all the things Ice would never have admitted to wanting, thirty-some-odd years ago.

“Whatever you want,” Ice suggests, “Sir,” and gets kissed absolutely breathless again for his efforts.

“Well then, Kazansky,” Mav offers, Ice’s last name on his tongue like a caress. “Put your hands above your head for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Ice says, and follows orders, watches Mav’s pupils expand with a satisfaction that burns in his gut and extends up and out.

“Fucking Christ,” Mav says.

“Still weird, then? I’ll have to try harder.”

Mav leans forward and bites at Ice’s lips.

“You’ll have to try harder--” he prompts, into Ice’s mouth.

“Sir,” Ice snaps out.

And then things get a little less defined, for a little while.

-

Mav: I think we miscalculated

Ice: ?

Mav: I walked in, mini-you called me 'sir', and it was, ah, uncomfortable for VERY DIFFERENT reasons this time

Ice: Oh my god

Mav: I also refer to him pretty exclusively by his last name Ice what do I do

Ice: 🤣

Mav: THIS IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE TIME FOR EMOJIS

[isitcorrect]

A growing number of people believe that the war in Ukraine isn't real. Not the usual conspiracy theorist belief that takes Putin's motives at face value, but that it's entirely being staged by Ukraine. This is being advanced by noted right-wing internet figure Catturd and going off retweets, at least 18,000 people believe this, bc we live in a hellworld

As always their reasoning is absolutely convincing to anyone inside their media bubble and absolute lunacy to anyone outside of it

The claim isn't that some footage of Ukraine is doctored. It's that there isn't any footage. At all.

Which sounds like total bullshit to anyone not within the cult. No footage? It's just about the most documented war of modern times. There are entire subreddits and Twitter accounts devoted to posting dozens of new videos from the war daily. It's a war between two European countries in a era where everyone has smartphones and cameras are regularly mounted on military equipment, of course there's an abundance of footage

To paraphrase Dan Olson's video about flat Earth/QAnon, it's the type of thing that drives anyone curious about the world and understanding it insane.

"No graphs explaining how the war is going" There are multiple websites doing daily maps of the war. Wikipedia has one on every page of anything associated with Ukraine.

"Zelenskyy jet setting around the world" Well, yeah, what do you expect him to do? Lead troops into battle personally like a medieval lord? Zelenskyy is President of Ukraine, and the President handles international relations while the Prime Minister is the head of government (tbf, I think a lot of Americans don't realize the President of Ukraine isn't like the President of the US but is like...well, most European countries with Presidents [except for France, where the President is the most powerful government figure]). This is his job.

The Catturds of the world know that. They're banking on the idea that their followers don't, that they absorb information about the world entirely through their prism. They aren't shown war footage, they're shown the staged celebrity photo-ops and told that's all there is, that everything else doesn't exist or is fake.

Which is good for keeping the converted converted, but may be too out there for your garden variety reflexive contrarian; on the other hand, it's good for converting the remaining true believers into the type of overtly antisemitic fascist that understands what MAGA types really mean when they rant about "evil globalist worms".

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - I Out Pew Pew Your Pew Pew

For: @wingedflight

Danny is kinda a walking weapon even with ignoring his ghostliness, and robbing a bank is certainly one way to find that out

Danny? Yeah Danny was having a day. He turbo fucked his right shin and now had a cast, even with that his parents were still insisting on Danny himself going to both set up the new FentonWorks deal with a non-military adjacent investor/potential buyer and for him to set up the investment/deposit any under the table cheques at the bank. Of course, he had to be in his FentonWorks brand hazmat/spandex -gotta be able to show off those weapons and other gadgets at the drop of a hat right?- for said meeting, he dressed it up with a burgundy lab coat, fuzzy green and purple plaid pants, and a pair of dark blue doc martins; combined with the white trimmed with black spandex he hopes he was a fucking eyesore.

“-It’ll be a pleasure doing business with FentonWorks”, the gray-suited man gets up and they shake hands. White gloved hand to pale hand, the other man had a gaudy ring on his ring finger with diamonds so most likely married though his watch was definitely a fake Rolex. The man was bringing both legal and… less than legal money to the table so Danny makes a point to pull the guy in and clap him on the back, “do keep in mind, my uncle is Vlad Masters, I’m sure you understand”, and let’s the guy go, finger snapping and finger gunning as he take his leave; the other man looks slightly shocky. Fucking good. Sometimes people would try to pull one over on his parents, mostly due to Jack’s seeming obviousness and innocence, and they’d sometimes try it with Danny too due to him being all young and shit. It didn’t help that his dad feel for it sometimes, even his mom had once or twice due to being excited or too focused on other things. Danny, however, never had, he was way too perceptive and aware of the more unkind side of people (ghost or human) for that; which is probably why his parents wanted him to handle all the deals and clients now. Was it a pain? Yes. Most of the clients were either a little wacky, a little shady, or just painfully normal. But bringing up Vlad, who had a goddamn thirty-ish year reputation for being brutal/vindictive and unscammable in business, usually stopped anyone from even trying to pull one over on Danny.

Vlad definitely didn’t mind, that man liked his more intimidating business reputation, and would absolutely run someone’s business into the ground on Danny’s behalf; at least they got on well these days, so the rich ass wouldn’t ask for much in return.

So anyways, bank time, as he slips in through the slightly squeaky doors with a whistle; thank fuck he was practiced in walking around with casts. Slapping his cheques down on the till and, as is typical of his luck, all Hell breaks loose immediately after.

Doors banging open loudly and men shouting stereotypical bullshit, “ON THE GROUND NOW! THIS IS A ROBBERY! IF YOU DONT WANT TO DIE YOU’LL LISTEN THE HELL UP!”, and fires a few rounds at the ceiling. Don’t these jackasses know that could cause ricochets and shit?

Needless to say everybody drops… except Danny, who, you know, has a fucking cast and thus would reasonably have difficulty with that shit. The chuckle fucks don’t really like that of course, one pointing a gun at an unaffected looking Danny, “ground, now”.

“I don’t know about you guys but I kinda have difficulty laying on the ground with a fucking cast on”.

The guy rolls his eyes under his ski mask, “funny. Ground, I don’t care how difficult it is”.

Danny shrugs and just kinda falls sideways, landing on the ground with a huff and a very loud thump. This? This was not what the armed man expected him to do and he just stands in shock for a beat; Danny’s tempted to knock the man’s feet out and bite him to get some kind of upper hand but… he wasn’t alone in the building and he wasn’t about to risk collateral. so the man with the gun grunts and goes back to the others to watch everyone while giving him some weirded out side-eye.

Cue operation big ass distraction. He is literally wearing a spandex suit filled to the brim with weapons and that’s super fucking durable, a regular ass gun ain’t doing shit and these guys don’t look like they brought ecto-based weaponry or a rocket launcher or an anti-tank rifle… just so long as they don’t shoot him in the fucking head. Granted that won’t really do anything else either but that was because he was already dead, and while that would really make these idiots realise the situation they’re in, that shit being caught on camera would be super bad.

So Danny starts drumming his fingers on his stomach, then moving his arms and legs around like he’s making snow angels, when that doesn’t get mu- oh wait never mind, they’re staring at him and one of the guys mutters, “are you fucking kidding me”. Danny bounces his feet up and down making thumping noises and making his whole body shake; while also trying the gesture to everyone to, like, hide or some shit. At least shimmy away from his ass, ‘cause trying to shimmy away from the guy that’s practically begging to be shot is very reasonable behaviour that the gunmen won’t really question much.

A slightly taller jackass comes over this time, pointing his gun right at Danny’s nose, “I can just kill you now if you feel like being annoying”.

Danny smirks very mockingly, “go ahead, be doing me a favour or two”. And the man eyes how Danny is very clearly entirely unbothered by the gun in his face. “Lookie a kid with a death wish, on your stomach. Now”, and he nudges Danny’s side with his gun barrel; everyone is very much not near Danny now.

Danny does oblige, again he doesn’t actually want to get shot in the face. The taller man backs up and mutters to another, “he might be real trouble, either he doesn’t fear death or he’s made these kinds of rounds before”; his buddy just nods curtly and passes the message along.

Nice. More eyes on Danny. Danny likey. Also he absolutely heard someone managing to hit the panic button; ghost ears for the win. unfortunately said ghost ears are also picking up on the guys doing a solid job breaking into the safe, these guys have done this before.

And then someone other than Danny does something stupid and lunges for one of the men’s guns, Danny wants to call the girl a fucking moron as she gets shot in the foot without any hesitation. Aka, Danny’s hand is solidly forced now since he was no longer their only ‘problem’ meaning playing distraction via erratic behaviour wasn't gonna work now. Whelp. Nothing for it. Taking advantage of the girls distraction to twist his palms under his collar bone and flex his feet so his toes are flat in the ground. Grinning, “a cast might hinder your legs but you know what it doesn’t hinder? Your ankles”, and uses his wrists and toes/ankles to springboard/slingshot himself forward and straight into the nearest asshole's knees.

The guy goes down like a sack of bricks.

Danny snaking his arm around to jab the guy one in the chin, knocking him out easily with a little help from his ghostly strength; then grabbing his shirt and flinging the man at the other men, Danny grabbing the man’s gun too while he’s at it and using the gun as a prop to shove himself back into standing upright.

Danny took issue with killing. Big no to murder. But what he didn’t take issue with was injuries; people don’t die from mild enough injuries, they just hurt like a son of a bitch.

So Danny shoots two guys in their feet, both feet. While everyone else starts panicking and running around; Danny winds up shooting one of the guys in the shoulder -barely- cause he tried to shoot a fleeing old dude. Danny basically gliding over the ground, using the reach of the butt of the gun to deliver knock out neck hits to the two guys he shot in the foot; chuckling the gun at the shoulder shot guy, he’s not super happy with the thunk noise it makes against the fuckers chest but he’s still breathing… just maybe with a cracked rib or two.

Now there’s just the two in the vault and the two in this room with him, both of the later have their guns on him at this point and obviously think he just threw away his weapon based on their definite smirks under their masks.

Danny glances around at the ground like he’s looking for another weapon, one of the men chuckling, “not so cocky now, are we”. Danny looking back up and shrugging, “oh I assure you, I am the perfect amount of cocky”, and suddenly Danny has a bazooka.

The two men’s eyes go wide, Danny taking their shook as a chance to summon out a little laser gun from its ankle slot and promptly laser seals shut the vault; those men can stay there and get picked up by the cops… whenever the cops can manage to get it back open anyways. But for now, bazooka. Danny snickers, “your guy’s luck must really suck to pick the one time to commit robbery at the same time as when an owner of a ground breaking weapons company that even does deals with some… less than public government sectors, will be around doing business”, grin turning mean, “and I’m the owner with the best shot”; the bazooka charging up with a whine. Any remaining hostages are either huddling further in their hiding spots, trying to record this shit, or muttering profanities.

‘Cause yeah, this was definitely a weird ass scene. Three unconscious bank robbers, a ‘wack job’ in a red lab coat plus spandex body suit plus green/purple pants plus blue shoes like he’s from a fucking comic book or something, and two other bank robbers having a gun stand-off with bazooka mad scientist dude. The fact that Danny was grinning like he was having a jolly good time while the robbers looked all serious, really sold it.

Annnnnnnnd then the cops show up.

“EVERYBODY PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! Put your weapons down”. The robbers do as their told instantly while glaring bloody murder at Danny.

Danny, however, actively pouts, “hey, I’m just defusing the situation”. He sounds so serious that even the cops are thrown off and pause, everyone eyeing him.

The shorter robber fucker wheezes, “kid, you’re fucking crazy”.

Danny shrugs, still holding his bazooka, “first off, I’m an adult. Second off, again I have a leg cast so that whole get on the ground thing’s gonna take some time. Third off, Imma Fenton, crazy’s in the genes”, smirking, “or in the spandex jumpsuit, I guess. These definitely aren’t denim”.

One of the cops lowers her gun, “you’re a Fenton”.

Danny takes one hand off the bazooka and points to his face, grinning goofily, “Daniel James Fenton, heir to FentonWorks, at your service”; somewhat slowly lifting up the bazooka to point it at the ceiling instead, all the cops -except the lady cop who spoke up- following him with their guns the entire time.

Tall robber sounds slightly confused, “full name? Are you not concerned a friend of ours will come hunt you down for this”; one of the cops grabbing him and yanking his cuffed ass up very roughly.

“Eh, bigger men with bigger arsenals haven't succeeded yet so I’m not worried”.

Meanwhile, lady cop holsters her gun, waving the others off, “don’t bother with him, Fenton’s are basically exempt from the law”. The other cops looking dumbfounded at her, one even giving her a, “seriously?”.

“Yes, seriously. You three, get that vault open”.

Danny nods, retracting the bazooka, “good call, kinda trapped two fuckers in there with an ankle laser”.

One cop mumbling, “ankle laser? What is this? James Bond?”.

Danny snickers, “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you”, then walks over to the lady officer, she looks like she’s in charge here or at least the highest on the peeking order, handing over his FentonWorks id for her to look over and nod at.

She hands it back to him with a, “you Fenton’s are as crazy as I was warned”.

Danny beams happily, “oh this isn’t remotely crazy for me”, glancing around, “actually I think this was the single easiest robbery slash hostage situation I’ve ever been involved with. Glad to see there’s no weird gothic mime clowns or mecha body suits”. Then looking right at the robbers, “by the by? This shit?”, putting a hand to his jumpsuit, “is neck to toe bullet proof and contains well over three hundred different weapons. You were out gunned and out armoured before you even tried. Suck on deez nuts”, and makes a couple of lewd gestures.

Some of the hostages whimper, two laugh, and the other remaining ones just fucking flee. the lady cop eyes Danny, “please try to stick to you own jurisdiction in the future”.

Danny grins giddily before striding back over to where he left his cheques, “now is anyone gonna cash these for me or? They’re not, like, super legal so…”.

One of the two cops that were working on the safe shouting, “are you for real!?!”.

“I verbally and/or visually -take your pick- terrorised some robbers, shot three of them, and held a bunch of cops at bazooka point; questionable money and maybe tax evasion are a moot point at this point”.

A bank teller does actually shakily come over and start doing his cheque for him, “um, uh, thank you?”, her voice is a little squeaky.

Danny gives a little thumbs up, “hey it’s my thing to both disturb and protect the peace, usually from far weirder situations with a lot more collateral damage”. And gives her double-finger guns while the cops finally get the safe open and drag out the two trapped men.

Whelp, this wasn’t his problem anymore and he dealt with what he was required to. Saluting everyone, “whelp, this was fun, thanks for the more mundane combat style break. Got dead people to deal with, if you want to charge me with your therapy bills please don’t, the damages tab is high enough already”, and with that he saunters out.

One of the cops looks to the boss lady cop, “how are we supposed to report this?”.

“Maurice, the second we slap FentonWorks Incident on that report, we could claim we fought the goddamn tooth fairy and the higher-ups wouldn’t question it”.

The other cop just whistles, rather impressed.

---

Danny snags some danishes before flopping down in one of the kitchen chairs, “so guess who shot three people, had a bazooka standoff with the cops, and was in a freaking bank robbery, today?”.

His mom turns away from the stove, she was probably making supper, “are you okay? Didn’t seriously hurt anyone?”. His dad, who’s tinkering with… something, just looks giddy, “that’s my boy”.

Danny snorts, “eh the worst anyone got was maybe a cracked rib, kinda threw a gun kinda hard into his chest”.

Both his parents wincing, his dads the one to ask though, “Fenton kinda hard or normal people kinda hard”.

“Mostly normal”, Danny shrugs, he’s not worried, “and the cops got the guys I sealed in the vault out pretty quick so I doubt they were having issues breathing”, straightening up some, “the deal went fine though, some cash in the account already”.

His dad does a little cheer, while his mom smiles, “that’s good and I’m glad things didn’t get too eventful”.

Danny laughs, “ha! Yeah, someone definitely record some of that shit show though so don’t be too surprised if I’m on the news again”. They shake their heads fondly at that… and yes, Danny was in fact on the news that night from multiple different shaky angles; his outfit definitely was a bit of an eyesore, nice.

End.

Prompt: Danny gets caught in the middle of a bank robbery. Can he diffuse the situation without revealing his powers?

[rekiilysm]

ETHEREAL: Ch10

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・

⇨ 「pairing— steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader」

⇨ 「a/n— SEASON TWO BABY!!! ok i am so so so sorry for the break in updates but it’s been stressful with school and stuff but it’s almost summer! there’s not much happening this chapter but it’ll come soon!」

⇨ 「warnings— the usual cursing but that’s about it」

⇨ 「word count— 2.2k」

CHAPTER TEN: MADMAX

   It was dark outside, and the only noise in the Henderson residence was the sound of the TV and Dustin cursing to himself while trying to find change for the arcade. Y/n was in her room doing homework on her bed, books and papers scattered everywhere. Her little brother then ran into her room quickly, "I need change." He said before pulling out one of her piggy banks. Her eyebrow rose up while looking at her brother.

   He then started to pour out all the change on the carpet floor, making the Henderson girl's eyes widen as she quickly got up and stumbled over to her brother. "What the hell are you doing?!" She exclaimed, but Dustin didn't stop. She sighed, "You could've just asked.."

   After he got all the change out of the piggy bank, he set it down before crouching down on the floor. "Sorry, Y/n/n. Me and the guys are going to the arcade. Wanna come?" He asked, not even taking his eyes off the change on the carpet.

   She scoffed, "Of course I do, dummy!" He smiled, getting back onto his feet and standing in front of her.

   "We can share," he said, holding up the quarters. She nodded before her little brother bolted out of her room to radio their best friends. Y/n looked over to her books on her bed, remembering her homework that she should be doing...but a little fun wouldn't hurt, right?

———

   A little bit later, the two Hendersons pulled up to the arcade in the girl's car. Once she parked, the younger sibling was quick to get out and run over to the other boys. Y/n smiled to herself before getting out of her car, making sure to lock it behind her.

   While walking up to the group of boys, a honking noise filled their ears, making their heads snap towards the direction of the honk. It was Will and Joyce. "Hey!" Lucas exclaimed and waved to the boy in the car still. After a minute, the Byers boy eventually got out of the car and walked over to his friends.

The five made their way to different games, stopping at one of their favorites: Dragon's Lair. "To slay the dragon, use the magic sword!" The sexy princess told the players, making the boys swoon.

"Oh, Jesus! I'm in uncharted territory here, guys," he told them as they crowed around him. He pressed the button continuously, moving the stick around while his best friends and sister yelled at him.

"Down! Down! Down!" They all exclaimed.

Dustin kept his eyes glued to the screen, "I'm going! I'm going!" The knight on the screen then ran around the place while the princess in distress was, well, distressing. The four continued to yell at him, but then the dragon came onto the screen, making the curly haired boy shut them up. "Okay. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" He exclaimed, making them all stop as he pressed the button multiple times, only to get blasted with fire, loosing the game. "No! No! No! No! I hate this overpriced bullshit! Son of a bitch! Piece of shit!" He slammed his fist against the game, making his older sister put a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay there, tough guy, calm down," she gave him a pat on the shoulder before Lucas nodded along with her.

"You're not nimble enough. But you'll get there one day. But until then, Princess Daphne is still mine!" Lucas smiled cheekily, making Dustin sigh.

"Whatever. I'm still tops on Centipede and Dig Dug. And we got Y/n on top of PacMan, so the Hendersons still stay on top," Dustin looked over to his older sister, who gave him a smirk.

Before she could say anything, the party's favorite person in the world stood close to them. Keith. "You sure about that?" He asked, making the five look in his direction. Y/n rolled her eyes at the boy who had been trying to get a date with her since freshman year.

"Sure about what?" Dustin asked, but Keith just stayed silent, continuing to shove Cheetos into his mouth.

Y/n raised her eyebrow, "What do you mean, Keith?" The boy her age looked at her but still stayed silent.

Dustin scoffed before quickly making his way over to his favorite game. "You're kidding me. No, no, no." He pushed through multiple people, making the party struggle to follow him. "Move! Move! No!" He eventually made it to the game, but when he got to it, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

DIG DUG

BEST 5

SCORE NAME

1st 751300 MADMAX

2nd 650990 DUSTIN

"751,300 points!" Will exclaimed in shock.

Mike's mouth fell open, "That's impossible."

"How could someone get a score that high?" Y/n asked, shocked as to how someone could manage to get a score that high. I mean, she was shocked that Dustin got the score he did, but damn! That's a lot of points...

"Who's Mad Max?" Dustin walked up to Keith.

He smirked, his face still full of Cheetos, "Better than you."

"Is it you?" Will asked.

Keith scoffed, "You know I despise Dig Dug."

Y/n raised her eyebrow as Lucas questions the guy, "Then who is it?"

Dustin stepped forward, "Yeah, spill it, Keith."

The said guy continued to stuff his face with his cheesy snack, "You want information, then I need something in return." He smirked as he looked over to Y/n. Her eyes widened, along with the boys' as well. Her nose scrunched up in disgust.

Dustin's eyes widened, and it was almost like there was steam coming out of his ears. "No, no, no. No way. You're not getting a date with her. Not my sister. No, gross."

Y/n nodded along with her brother. "Yeah, no. I'm not going on a date with you, Keith."

The boys, other than her brother, gave her a pleading look. "Y/n, come on! Please just let him take you out on a date." Lucas asked as she shook her head.

"No, gross!" she exclaimed. Usually she wasn't so mean to people in front of their face, but it was Keith, so she didn't care.

"But it's for a good cause!" Lucas tried to talk her into it.

Dustin shook his head, "No, don't go out with him. Know what? He's gonna spread his nasty-ass rash to our whole family!" He said, not taking his eyes off of Keith. Y/n snickered, but coughed it off to cover it up.

Keith looked at the younger Henderson with an offended look on his face, "Acne isn't a rash and it isn't contagious, you prepubescent wastoid."

"Oh, I'm a wastoid? She wouldn't go on a date with you. Would you, Y/n?" he asked his older sister, who shook her head.

"Absolutely not," she said as her brother continued.

"You make, like, what? $2.50 an hour?" Dustin mocked. But while the two were going back and forth, the party didn't realize that Will had walked off.

"Nice perm," Keith mocked back.

Dustin scoffed, "Gonna make fun of my hair?" He asked the guy in front of him who rolled his eyes. The two continued to argue and bicker, but Mike and Y/n noticed that Will was gone.

Y/n looked down at Mike, "Go find Will. I'll stay here and try to split these two up." He nodded at her words before heading out the door to bring Will back inside. The girl sighed before attempting to pull her little brother away from the guy in front of him.

Once she finally got the two away from each other, she ushered the boys to go back to Dig Dug to get their spot back. Eventually, Will and Mike walked through the doors and gave her a smile before going over to her brother's favorite game. As Y/n turned to go over to them, Keith stopped her. She turned to him, and before he could say anything, she spoke up. "No." And then she walked back to her brother and her best friends. She was going to have fun with them, not worry about having to go on a date with Keith—she thanks Dustin greatly for that.

———

The next day, the two Henderson siblings pulled up to the high school parking lot. Y/n parked the car before turning to her brother. "Check up on Will for me, 'kay?" she asked, making him nod.

"Will do," he held up a finger gun, clicking his tongue before grabbing his backpack out of the backseat. Y/n did the same and got out of the car. "I'm surprised we got here on time today," he smirked, making the older sibling roll her eyes. She walked over to her brother, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair to get on his nerves.

"Watch it, curly," she warned playfully before grabbing his head, pressing an annoying kiss on his forehead.

He pushed her off of him, "Stop, Y/n." He whined, making the girl smirk as she plopped his hat back on his head.

"What? Am I embarrassing you?" she laughed as he fixed his hat.

"Yes, now please, I'm gonna be late," he said, making her groan.

"All right, fine. Love you," she gave him a smile, which he gave her one back.

"Love you too, you ass," he smirked at her, making her playfully roll her eyes at his words. He gave her solute before walking in the opposite direction towards the middle school. The Henderson girl shook her head, a smile still on her face. As he disappeared from her sight, her smile fell, her head doing the same. Oh school, how fun.

She walked on the grass to the school, her headphones over her ears. She had the copy of the mixtape she made for Steve playing in her Walkman. The chorus of "Somebody's Watching Me" by Michael Jackson played in her ears as she walked by Steve's car. What she didn't notice though, was that somebody was in fact watching her—it was Steve. Nancy was talking to him about his paper, but when the Henderson girl came into his sight, he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

———

After a couple of classes, Y/n was at her locker getting some books for her next class. As she closed it, Jonathan and Nancy walked up to her. "Jonathan, just come. I mean, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone," Nancy told him, going to her locker next to the Henderson girl. The said girl raised her eyebrow before Steve Harrington came up behind Nancy, picking her up and twirling her around. She shrieked, but Steve only chuckled. Y/n made eye contact with Jonathan, both of them standing there awkwardly. Nancy and Steve began to kiss, which was the two freaks' cue to leave. Nancy pushed the Harrington boy off her with a smile before getting some books out of her locker. She looked in the direction where Jonathan and Y/n went, watching sadly as the boy walked away. But little did she know, Steve was watching them too, but his eyes were on Y/n.

Back with Y/n and Jonathan, they walked to their next class together. Even though they were in different grades, they still had some classes together. "So," Y/n's eyes caught a glimpse at the bright orange flyer in her best friend's hands. "Are you going to go to Tina's party?" she asked, making him look at her. "If you wanna, go ahead. I can handle the boys, and I'll keep an eye out on Will. Go have some fun."

He shook his head, "No, it's okay. She's gonna be busy with Steve anyway." The girl frowned at Jonathan's sad face. "And besides, it wouldn't be fun without my favorite Henderson." He lightly shoved the girl's arm with his elbow, making her smirk.

"Okay, one: obviously. And two: I'm telling Dustin you said that," she said with a smile, making his eyes widen. "Kidding. I won't tell him... well unless I need to one-up him." She laughed, making him crack a smile as well. She loved seeing her best friend smile. He has been through so much with Will, and he deserves to be at peace and be happy.

The two finally made it to their class, hoping the day would be over soon.

———

It was now night time and Y/n was sitting in her room reading a book. She had dropped Dustin off at the arcade earlier, so he was still out. He asked her if she wanted to come with, but as much as she wanted to, her homework said otherwise. So now—luckily she finished her homework—she was reading a book for her English class. It was an interesting book; it was romance, which is kind of odd to make a senior English class read.

It's called "A Rose in Winter," which is about a lady—Erienne—who had fallen for a man she shouldn't be with, but she was also in love with the man she was supposed to be with. The story goes on her journey of conflict in her mind, which was very intriguing for Y/n. The story was a lot like the situation she was in, not that she realized. But she wasn't Erienne in this situation...someone else was.

———

tags:

@milkiane @novacrystalli @stepasidefilth @maggiecc @star-flecked-soul @whore-for-eddie @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @dallysnecklace @yuuki4646 @jinxed-jk @mvaldez7821 @seriously-ok-not @okjaeminn @lycaonpictusphotography @m-rae23 @untitledarea @gracella0709 @fanficfanatic204

lmk if you want to be tagged <3

[spacecowboyhotch]

Blue Scoops: A Prologue

summary: it was time.

pairing: f!reader (blue) x m!oc oliver raven, eventual f!reader (blue) x javier peña

contents: no smut but 18+, death of family, grieving, depression, break ups, crying

wc: 1.25k

AN: a very soft launch to my baby that i’ve been obsessing over off and on. please, please, do take note of the contents and take care of yourself. grief is a pretty big theme throughout this entire work so keep that in mind. also please do remember that this work is 18+ only as there will be nsfw content. eager to hear your thoughts on this so pls do share them if you read, it’d mean a lot to me!

series masterlist | misc. masterlist

He was old. It was time.

Those words blink in your head like a gas station neon sign, blinding, annoying and completely unwanted.

He was old. It was time.

You knew it was coming but not like this. Just like that, the man who knew you best was gone and now it feels like your lungs are filled to the brim with water. You should’ve been there, should’ve sucked it up, and gone over to help him shovel his driveway. The reason you two were fighting has been dead since you were a teen, and now you’re left to add this to your pile of internal bullshit. Another impossible thing to wade through.

He’s old. He was old. And now he’s just gone.

He was old and it was time but did it have to be like this? Did it have to be out in the cold all by himself? He deserved better than that. He deserved the world, he deserved a granddaughter that would’ve helped him instead of holding a grudge after all he’d been through.

“Ma’am do you want to see him one last time?” Jerry, the man that’s in charge of the arrangements, gives you that warm smile he’s so good at. Sometimes it makes your skin crawl, and sometimes it's a comfort.

This time it's the former, because of course you don’t. Seeing the empty shell of your grandfather sounds like a sick and twisted dream, but you’re all he has left and he deserves respect paid. Somewhere inside of you, you find the strength to say yes but you don’t even recognize your voice.

“We can give you a few more days before you decide how you’d like to handle this.”

Shaking your head, your hand falls to your purse, ready to get this all over with, “No, that’s okay. I want him cremated.”

“Usually we have people give it a few days before-”

You cut him off, mouth setting into a thin line, “I know what I want, we planned for this. I want him cremated.”

Jerry whinces, before smoothing his face back into the warm smile, “Yes ma’am.”

You handle all the payment and paperwork with robotic, empty movements, you mind millions of miles away. When you make it out the car with a manila envelope full of documents, Oliver, your boyfriend is waiting for you.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Please take me home,” You whisper softly as you sit just on the edge of losing it again.

He doesn’t say anything else, just starts the journey to your shared apartment. He doesn’t reach out to comfort you when the tears start to fall, and it's no one’s fault but your own. You’ve been snarky in your grief, nitpicking every single gesture of care he tries to bestow on you. Grief makes you unkind because you’ve never held it quite like this before. It digs its sharp claws into you and makes you lash out.

The process of going through grandfather’s things will be lengthy and time consuming. With little thought and much haste you quit your job as a pastry chef to free up time. In hindsight, you should’ve been more gentle with yourself, eased into it, but you needed something that reminds you of him to latch on to. Through all of the sorting and compiling of his assets and bank accounts, you find out he has a healthy savings —all yours now— and owns a house in your grandmother’s home town, Laredo, Texas. The house is yours now too, and when your mind immediately thinks of escaping there you pack the papers back up and avoid them.

You’re disappointed with yourself because when you thought of escaping, it was alone, without Oliver. And with that thought came relief. Oliver’s been nothing but good to you, he’s not perfect, but he tries and there’s not much more you can ask for. There’s not much more that you would ask for, because its not fair when you’re treating him like this.

As the weeks pass, you glance at the box the papers are in every once and a while, longingly, guiltily. It only takes a month for you to pull them out again, and when you do, you accept your fate.

It’s time to go.

You’re not in the right headspace to be in a relationship, and you know that it's time when the idea of leaving doesn’t even scare you. It makes you feel terrible— sick to your stomach, but not afraid.

Oliver’s trying and so are you, but it's not working. Since your grandfather died it feels like your relationship is a failed handshake that both parties know but can’t execute.

“Oliver?” You ask as the two of you sit down for dinner.

It's another crockpot meal of chicken and rice and broth. The thought of even getting out the can opener or chopping up a vegetable sounds exhausting. Everything, even feeling angry or sinking into the sadness, feels exhausting.

He gazes at you, looking tired with a voice to match, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

Its now or never. If you don’t tell him now the two of you will drown in unhappiness and resent each other. You don’t want, for yourself, sure, but most importantly for Oliver. He deserves happiness even if you don’t think you do.

You set down your fork and take a deep breath, unable to look at him, “I have to leave.”

“What?”

“This isn’t working, we both know that this isn’t working.”

There’s a lull, a deep cove of silence that makes you feel like time has stopped before he speaks again, “Is there any way that I can change your mind?”

It feels cold, but you can’t help the humorless chuckle that leaves your throat, “Do you actually want to?”

“I love you, even in all of this.”

Your throat goes thick from his words, god you don’t deserve him. Sometimes you wonder if you ever have, or if the green jadedness growing inside has earned you a life full of sorrow. A naive life, thinking you’ll have the picket fence and nuclear family while in reality it’s all just an illusion. You’re not even sure you want it anymore, not that it matters, you’re convinced you’ll never have it. And while you love him too and always will, not like this. It can’t be like this.

“Oliver…I don’t think that you should.”

“It's not a choice,” He murmurs and there's defeat written all over him. When he looks at you, eyes sad, the tears in your eyes finally fall.

You take his head into your hands, trying to desperately make him understand, “Neither is me leaving.”

There’s no more explicit talk about the breakup after that besides you giving him a move out date and the address to the house. He helps you pack and it makes you feel even more like shit. He’s sweet, accommodating. You wish that he would yell at you, that he would tell you how much of a bitch you’re being but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t because he’s Oliver. When you pack up your truck, he gives you a tight hug, tells you he loves you. You hug him just as tightly, promise to call, tell him that you love him so much, that you’re sorry.

When you drive away you feel like you’re rotting from the inside, emotion festering beyond its expiration date inside of you. You’ll take your time making your way to Laredo, hoping that somewhere along the way you’ll find some sense of happiness again.

> chapter 1

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[thisismenow3]

Semantics or genuine misunderstandings?

I keep feeling such… depression, I guess? Anger ain’t the right word, nor is sadness. It’s just an all encompassing defeat kind of feeling when I see someone defend their position on an important topic by pretending only the most egregious kind of idiotic arguments against their position are the other side.

The specific instance for this right now is seeing people act like anti-Zionism means anti Jew ignoring the multiple meanings of the word. And then do things such as act like the only way people could side with Palestinians (they usually just say Hamas and limit how often they say the name of the people group being oppressed… wonder why) is if no Israelis were harmed October 7 2023. Bru, some people are malicious idiots that think this way, but I and many people who don’t believe in reactionary group punishment (war crimes) don’t need to ignore the rape and murder and etc of Israelis on October 7 to know two wrongs don’t make a right.

And underneath it all is a failure to engage with the biggest and most salient point of the “side” they rail against; why do people in the West Bank deserve to have their homes taken over and themselves violently thrown out by Israeli settlers? Oh that’s already been happening for 75 years? Seems like you’re ignoring the real issue then. Hamas will always have recruits as long as the Palestinians are treated as sub humans who cannot have freedom of movement, cannot have freedom to keep their stuff or their lives. This applies to Gaza as well, but it’s curious that even with the two step of “they killed and raped civilians! So of course we must snipe grandmas in the streets and in mosques and churches while pillaging and raping in the rubble!” they can’t engage with the fact that they’ve tied their idea of their own and their group’s safety to the genocide of the outgroup. And that on top of that they misuse accusation of antisemitism to hide from this reality like some kind of American Christofascist would, or Russian propagandist, or Azeri nationalist.

But this reality levels their whole wordview, not just argument. They need the delusion of settlers stealing land and houses and soldiers sniping old women and children and denying food, clean water and healthcare to somehow being necessary to combat Hamas… cause otherwise you’d have to admit you are supporting a government that is trying to speed run the American genocide of native Americans. We, Americans, didn’t have to fully regime change or do anything to Iraq to fight terrorism or to keep ourselves safe. More people should’ve listened to how this was reactionary “spill more of their blood to salve our wounded pride and the hearts of those who died in the towers!!!!!!!!” bullshit, but they didn’t. What Israel did and does to Palestinians before October 7 and since makes all of the Levant less safe. Just like with counter terrorism, war and war crimes actually make the problem worse and soft power non military solutions are the actual defenses

[mayalaen]

I'm way too grouchy today.

I lost $900 today because my family STILL won't double check things.

When I first got covid, I was REALLY sick, and they knew it. My brain wasn't functioning right (still isn't but it's better than it was) and I wasn't double checking out-of-state orders for the shop personally for a couple weeks.

It had been a few months since they sent something out that was obviously paid for with a stolen credit card so I was like okay I'm gonna just step back and take care of myself and let them do their thing. It's a slow time of year anyway in the tattoo industry.

This morning Charlie (my uncle) dropped a letter from the bank off at my door. All four of us handle different things and Charlie does some of the banking stuff (among other things).

The letter was sent out weeks ago but he wasn't getting the mail even though he's supposed to get it no less than once a week.

The bank was notifying me that there was a chargeback on an order.

An $850 machine with expedited shipping, so $900 total.

I checked the order and the shipping address was 1500 miles away from the billing address. The phone number was 2500 miles away from the billing address and in a completely different state from the shipping address.

And the time period for being able to dispute the chargeback ended Friday at 5pm eastern standard time. He gave me the letter (today) Saturday morning. So TFB for me.

I pointed out the address discrepancies and both Charlie and Marissa (his wife) were like yeah but the system didn't flag it as fraudulent!

I said for the millionth time yeah I know. Not every fraudulent order is flagged as fraudulent, otherwise we'd never get scammed and the world would be a wonderful place!

I said, yet again, that I usually check EVERY order that comes in, especially when it's for more than $100.

Just a quick check to see if the billing and shipping addresses are SOMEWHAT close.

They responded with "EVERY ORDER?!!"

What kind of response is this?! Why the fuck would you double check some orders and not others?

And if you ARE going to check some and not others, wouldn't the $900 order with expedited shipping be one of them?!

I wasn't mean about it but I mentioned that I deal with scammers CONSTANTLY. I swear between the IRS requirements for small businesses and scammers, more than half my time working for the shop is spent dealing with bullshit instead of working on my actual shop!

I spent 3 days this past week dealing with a guy who ended up being a scammer. He kept trying to run his card through the online store and it was getting kicked back for nonmatching info.

I was emailing back and forth with him because he sounded like a genuine customer with a bank issue -- it happens sometimes because tattoo supplies are sometimes flagged by banks as unusual.

After three days of no less than an hour a day dealing with him, my bank finally kicked back some useful info -- that the card was issued to a man in the Netherlands while this dude was purchasing from the US.

So yeah. Scammer.

And if I wouldn't have been diligent with it or I had pushed the order through anyway, I would've lost almost $3000 in supplies.

I told Charlie and Marissa this and they reacted like spending this much time on a scam was a completely new idea to them. Like I haven't told them a million times how much time scammers take up.

But you can be sure that at the beginning of next month Charlie's going to be there with his hand out waiting for his pay and will throw a stink if I deduct $900 from his allowance even though the shop pays for my house/living expenses (and my parents) and Charlie's house/living expenses.

It feels like Charlie and Marissa are glorified cashiers (who get paid WAY more than cashiers and only work 30 hours a week) while I'm working no less than 60 hours a week and paying for their fuckups out of my own pocket.

At least you can fire shitty employees 🤬

Of course he immediately turned it around on me and acted like the hurt party in all this to the point where my mom was like "let him know you still love him he had a hard day."

Oh I'm sorry. Did he have a hard day when he found out that the car part he ordered was destroyed during shipping and they're sending a replacement? That's so terrible let me cry for him.

[winderlylandchime]

I’m just gonna go ahead and say sorry in advance the man lost his mind with the next ep but 3x04 1/2 ‘He would make great marketing for durex. Remember their covid ads? Funny as shit. Why is she here? Why can’t she take the kid with her to the hospital? I thought i gave Brian permission to hit this fucking kid? Yeah! Eat the chips you little bitch.‘ we got to Mel and Linds picking donors ‘FRESH SPERM?! LINDSAY HE IS 19- What are the-THEY CANT GO TO A SPERM BANK? THEYRE GONNA PICK BETWEEN THEIR FRIENDS?! Girl, what makes you think any of them want a kid at all or better yet with you? There is no way Brian would let that kid get into the ‘vette. JUSTIN! WHY ARE THEY CASUALLY SAYING HEY TO EACH OTHER? oh Justin hates this kid (Mel and Linds pick Mikey) MICHAEL?! THEY ARE PICKING MICHAEL?! MICHAEL?! MIKE? MIKEY?! Because he invited a kid to a comic book store? THAT IS LITERALLY HIS JOB! Thank god the diner doesn’t have more male waiters because she would think someone wants a kid just cause they told her the specials’ ‘WHAT IS WITH THEM MOVING IN SO FAST? I THOUGHT THAT WAS A YOU PEOPLE THING *waves at me*’. ‘Have you noticed that whenever Lindsay and Melly want something from someone they make them a meal? (mikey and Ben are taking a shower and he actually fake gagged) The only shower scenes I like are Brian and Justin’ ‘he’s going through Brian’s stuf- he has a lot of dildos, why am i acting surprised..HE STOLE HIS BRACELET! How dare you, you little shit! BRIAN HE HAS YOUR BRACELET! HE DOES NOT OWE ANY OF YOU ANYTHING ESPECIALLY NOT MONEY! I know I said hit him but this *points to the toilet scene* is WAY fucking better! Do Ethan next!’ He is once again using Shazam to make his playlist even better. ‘Usually when people start doing drugs, they become fun before they ruin their lives, this dude is just hitting the gym? Boring. Oh he’s angry and jealous of Michael isn’t he? Well that’s not healthy’ he is once again using Shazam, this is getting ridiculous. ‘OKAY BRIAN!! Oh damn, I don’t remember him being all 6 packy before. Why is a cop there?’ ‘Why is he surprised that he wont have full rights? Dude, you’re a DONOR! But don’t worry they never hold their word, they force the donors to step up one way or the other. Make sure you have life insurance. THATS WHY THERES SPERM BANKS MELANIE!’ And thee scene is coming up (my cousin thankfully reminded me to record him here bc she knew he’d lose his mind and thank fuck she did. Usually i record him for big moments but i almost forgot here) ‘HE ACCUSED HIM OF WHAT NOW?! *pauses tv* OH FUCK HIM AND FUCK WHOEVER MADE HIM! That is such a horrible and serious accusation to make cause some people, HA, some people..good one (his name), GIRLS! WOMEN! aren’t believed! And boys! Oh don’t even get me started and i know it’s ironic because im yelling at a boy BUT DIFFERENT! WE DONT EVEN GET TO COME FORWARD CAUSE WE SHOULD BE HAPPY WE GOT LAID! And if it was done by a man? Well then we are forced to be quiet because we get mocked since apparently gay is worse than rape. But Brian is gay, so of course he did that and nobody would think otherwise. Because gay means predator in their peanut shaped brain! Meanwhile PRIESTS exist! Or those weird family friends that you have to change outfits for when they come over but nobody calls that out. HOW FUCKING DARE THEY? You know what? FUCK EVERYTHING AND ESPECIALLY FUCK THAT KID! His family better know better, i have no faith in them but they owe him that! Nobody will believe this, he literally hates kids!‘ He then got up and went outside to smoke. I forgot that when the whole Florida gay ban bullshit happened, this man FLEW to florida to protest (we are nowhere near florida) so I should’ve seen this coming tbh. And when he came back inside he just went ‘I do wish they showed him being interrogated because I know for a fact my man was giving sarcasm and anger and funny insults!’ ‘Well look at that, it’s almost as if you shouldn’t move in together after like a week!’

Melanie and Lindsay’s insistence on using known sperm over donor sperm baffles me and must be because for TV reasons because it’s so bananas. LOLing at them making someone a meal… that is so true!

Ben not becoming more interesting with a drug problem IS A MOOD. And true.

His reaction to this storyline is everything. Factually, false accusations are incredibly rare and yes, it’s a double-whammy for boys. The other part of this storyline I hate? Is that Claire is right to believe her kid. So rarely do parents believe their kids and go to the police, when they should. I hate hate hate this storyline with a passion. I get why it happens (Justin still believing in Brian and doing whatever needs to be done to clear his name) but FFS CowLip why why why do you have to create a narrative around a false accusation?

YOUR BROTHER FLEW TO FL TO PROTEST? He gets all the fist-ally’s in the world! I love him.

[ruhrohrichie]

sorryyyyyyyy I'm justttt... would you ever wanna write hcs/a fic wherein Richie was a Casanova who seduced Eddie to be able to drink from him, but then he and Eddie liked each other so much that Eddie became his Blood Doll *mixed* with kittenplay, like Eddie gets called kitten all the time, and he likes to perch up on Richie's thigh and bare his neck and rub against Richie until Richie can't help but drink from him and feel him up at the same time? Terminology from here: https://hellhorror.com/vampires/vampire-glossary/

never apologize for this omg this is art of COURSE i'd wanna write about that

i would love to write this as a fic eventually but for now i think i'm gonna keep it to hc's

tw for blood,  stalking/obsessive tendencies, brief mentions of a huge age gap (ik its vampires lol but still figured i’d mention jic), and a sort of predator/prey vibe. also brief mentions of how much sonia sucks and her prejudices she tried to force onto eddie

so for this au, we’re thinking vampires are fairly common. most of them are chill. there are blood donors for them, and it’s very easy to get blood from banks. vampires aren’t usually seen as dangerous–not any more dangerous than humans, anyway. 

but eddie grew up in a small town, where his mom and all of his neighbors warned him of the dangers of catching yourself alone with a vampire

eddie’s mother and hometown are far in the past now. eddie’s in his early twenties, living in rural-leaning-suburban new england. he works as a mechanic most days and is taking classes at a local college at night. 

while his hometown is a state and a half away, he never made it to any big city. he’s been to Boston, once. and Burlington a handful of times. but mostly he’s content to stay someplace quieter. the people here are kind, and the college campus is beautiful—all old brick buildings that smell like books and history.

but, eddie learns quickly, the buildings are not the only old things in this town. 

as a night student, he’s had a few classes with a vampire or two. they were both lovely. one had a somewhat distracting habit of clicking her pen, but otherwise they proved all of the horror stories and cautionary tales eddie’s mother had filled his head with wrong.

basically he learns that everything his mom said about vampires was horrible bullshit, just like everything else she ever said

so eddie knew better than to be afraid of vampires. 

but there were people who warranted putting up your guard, people without fangs.

and so, as nature would and will always have it, just as there are humans with ill intentions, there are vampires one would be wise to steer clear of.

eddie thinks richie tozier might be like that.

it is the first day of eddie’s latest computer science class. he’s already in his seat, laptop and notebook neatly arranged on his desk.

he’s looking around the room when richie walks in and drops the temperature in the room a subtle but tangible few degrees.

richie’s gaze falls almost immediately to eddie, and eddie can see the hint of fangs poking out, cushioned against richie’s plush bottom lip. his face is all sharp angles, except for his freckled nose that softens and rounds and turns slightly downward that the tip, and his lips, so full and soft eddie can feels like he already knows how they’d feel on his skin. 

shit.

eddie looks down at his notebook hastily, but the damage is done. richie has seen him staring, and he smirks as he passes eddie, sitting just behind him and to the side, just close enough that eddie feels his gaze all class.

every class

eventually, richie invites eddie over. or maybe he says it’s dangerous for eddie to be walking home alone at night and walks him home.

on the first offer eddie declines, and he feels someone—something—following him all the way home.

it’s unusual for vampires to hunt, but richie nearly hunts eddie. he memorizes his path home. he spends all night walking between his own house and eddie’s apartment, counting the paces between them, finding the shortest, most private route. he can see how small eddie’s apartment is through the windows he only rarely leaves open at night (smart boy, richie thinks with a patronizing smile on his lips), and he can’t help but think about how much happier eddie would be living with him, living in his big house hidden away in the woods with its big windows and plush couches and various quiet reading rooms.

he sees it, how eddie doesn’t like loud noises or crowded places. richie could give him a home far from all of that, where richie would keep him. 

eddie is nervous through the process, almost aware of what richie is doing but not wanting to jump to assumptions

richie also calls eddie kitten before they even get together, low and teasing and he can hear the blood rushing through eddie’s body every time he says it, despite the displeased faces eddie tries to force in response at first

soon enough he knows it’s no use and is just openly bashful about the pet name

richie references that he’s old, and it should make eddie squeamish, but it just makes him a little lightheaded, an embarrassing throbbing between his legs as richie looms over him, not specifying just how much older than eddie he is, how much more he knows

but he gets a sense when eddie finally comes to his house

richie has a whole fucking mansion to himself

they’re supposed to be studying, but richie keeps getting closer, and nuzzling into eddie’s neck, and talking to him in this low voice that thrums slightly in the base of eddie’s skull in the nicest way, and it’s late of course, and richie is so fucking smart and hot and this couch is so soft, so soft where richie is firm, and guides eddie down and lets him hump richie’s leg while richie feeds from him for the first time

eddie comes in his pants as soon as he feels richie growling in pleasure as his blood pools over richie’s tongue <3

eddie gets so pliant and cuddly, until he just is richie’s kitten

he’s his lap pet, his little blood doll, and richie reminds him all the time

“just giving yourself up to me, baby, such a dumb kitty begging me to drink from you all the time. and why? ‘cause it gets your little cock hard? sweetheart, i could fucking drain you”

that always makes eddie cum

and yes omg kitten eddie. so perfect. so happy to just sit in richie’s lap no matter what richie is doing—if eddie wants attention, he just sits right in front of richie’s sight line

and he begssss for richie to use him and let him be his good little blood doll <3 

to the point where richie has to laugh and say no sometimes. but eddie pouts, so richie soothes him by letting eddie suck on his cock for as long as he wants

god i love vampires god i love kittenplay. thank you for this oh my god

[clarytee]

Hear me out. I listened to „Unholy“ for the first time today and here‘s my Harringrove (-son) headcanon.

CW: sex work, cheating, unhealthy dynamics

Steve is a regular at the strip club. And he‘s not content with just looking anymore, Billy notices. He‘s seen him slip out the backdoor with Eddie more than once after Eddie‘s sets. Hopefully the snob pays well, Billy thinks.

He‘s seen the type a million times: pillar of the community. Probably with a sizable inheritance in the bank. Wife and children. Still very much into dick. Able to pay himself out of almost any sticky situation.

That‘s where he usually stopped his train of thought to keep his blood from boiling. He hated the type.

Of course there‘s no ring on his finger when he pushes up to the bar and orders his next drink from Billy. But Billy can practically see the outlines of its imprint in the dark. And he lets Steve know as much when he tries to get in his pants.

Or:

Billy‘s a bar tender, Eddie‘s a stripper and occasional sex worker, Steve is a family man but really wants to fuck Billy. Billy is many things but there‘s one thing he is not: a home wrecker.

Steve is stubborn and Billy is persistent, slowly but surely making Steve address his bullshit. But. They like each other. They‘re doomed, they make no sense, they hit each other where it hurts. But they can’t seem to avoid each other.

Can Steve navigate getting out of a life he built but never truly wanted (apart from kids) and live with himself and the hurt he caused? (Starting out very much with pre redemption arc Steve)

Can Billy stay true to himself and the boundaries he‘s finally learned to set?

We‘ll never know because I‘ll probably never write this.

What we do know for sure though is that they both fuck Eddie.

[rametarin]

That Fujoshi has read too many bad romance novels. I'm not meaning to imply anything by this question but why not just tell your mom that you got a paycut and then squirrel away $50 or $100 a week under your mattress or in a new bank account? I imagine that you've thought of this already since you're pretty smart but I honestly can't think of why this idea wouldn't work. By the way, thanks for the response to my Alice in Wonderland math ask.

Because, had I a job, she'd be up my ass screaming about looking at my tax returns and insisting to "help" with my taxes. Under the usual threat of homelessness and police if she doesn't get her way.

I can't afford to leave with no buffer of cash to help me recover from the inevitable crash, and a few too many health issues to really risk it. so I don't.

It is impossible to keep any money from her because just as a course of living here she demands absolute involvement in anything I do that involves income, and then demands "her share."

Hell. I save holiday cards from a grandmother. I squirrel away that cash. But she knows that. And she considers that to be her money that I'm allowed to hold. I know this, because I purchased two books off the internet. She absolutely freaked out about this and then, lo and behold, she came at me the next week putting on a performance of how she was "overdrawn and needed money."

.. "How much?" I asked.

"Oh, how much do you have?" was her ominous reply.

I knew what this was when she said that, immediately.

I offered her $200 dollars.

Her response immediately was, "What? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What?"

So I said it louder. "Two. Hundred. Dollars."

Again she feigned not being able to hear me and asked me to repeat- it was obvious by this point this wasn't an issue of "old bitch can't hear you" it was a dressed up "raise your offer."

So I screamed, "TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS."

She just sort of stood there aghast, started crying and screamed, "GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND MOVE OUT!!" Which is absolutely something you do after someone offers you $200 to help with a little "oopsie doopsie" bill she may've "overlooked."

Later on she came at me again and demanded I hand over all my savings, or consequences. She was absolutely pissed off that I'd DARE spend any of my emergency funds on anything but her, and wanted to collect that money and choice from me so I couldn't spend it on anything else again. She didn't want "a little money", she wanted over a thousand dollars I'd saved over 10 years.

Then later when I had a dental issue and needed the tooth filled, I asked her for that money back. She stonewalled. Told me instead to get a job (where she could then extract all my cash on penalty of leaving me homeless unless I cimplied) and pay for it myself, after taking what little savings I had.

Short of walk out immediately with nothing and nowhere to go but massive amounts of debt just to exist, and a ditch, I don't really have anything I can do. I really do not want a homeless shelter to be my one and only option. I put up with this bullshit solely because of the singular opportunity to try and study and learn my way out of poverty. The only problem is since she retired she has become an absolute attention demon that wants interaction with me as often as she can get it, and has a tyrant's view of engagement- someone that thinks you're engaged in a conversation with them from the minute they speak to you to the next minute they want your attention again, does not respect if you're doing something else.

I want you to imagine how painful it is to try and do math around someone that has the power to coerce you to get up and do some menial task, not because the task needs doing, but because they want to see you get up and make it your priority and do it.

And why? What is the point of interrupting someone whom is busy with something else? Repeatedly? Spacing out every intrusion and intervention to effectively play keep away with the person and what they're doing?

Oh. Because it's an authoritative way to distract and intervene. Because suddenly you manipulate the value of their time and absorb priority from them, so no matter how precious their time is, you're gobbling up that precious attention and seizing priority from them. It took me a while to really hash out why she is so obsessive about choosing the most inopportune times to want my attention and labor, but after testing it, she only really wanted that attention and action as distractions sandwiched between anything else I was trying to do- she didn't want this intense amount of attention between periods of unscheduled activity or inaction. It was only when I was trying to save time for myself that she decided, "no you ain't" and reserving and overruling that reserved time and space for herself.

So all my studies and practice are done with her thinking I'm just some bedroom NEET she "allows" to waste time playing videogames. If she thought I was actually learning anything I could use as an occupation, she'd be as antagonistic and time stealing as she was when I was trying to learn medical transcription.

[haleigh-sloth]

Sometimes I feel people forget the type of story they are reading and what country it actually comes from but every once in awhile you can see a meta and can tell mha is people first entry to battle shounen like most sports manga are all similar and take cues from slam dunk well battle shounen are heavily inspire from others not a carbon copy of course but still and I can see the anger already the anti mha tag will be on fire come the ending saying they are being critical but it cause you didn’t get what you want and fine everyone is allow anger but it hilarious either way I already spent an embarrassing amount of money on the series and it going exactly as how I expected so I’m good everyone else be easy

I think it’s a little bit of this (for some who aren’t super familiar with manga and the industry it’s kinda obvious 😬) but also people who knew exactly what they were reading but hoping it would subvert the typical bullshit that occupies WSJ.

Which, I can say was a fair guess at one point in time imo. I didn’t read the series during the MVA days but I could see how that expectation would grow while those chapters came out.

But as someone who read the manga straight through and caught up to the war arc—I can also say that from my perspective MVA was pretty isolated as an arc and the story very very quickly returned to its usual tone and energy after it ended.

The war arc kiiiiinda followed up on the revolution destruction vibe—and I’ll admit I got lost in it too for a bit. But once the war arc ended it became extremely obvious that BNHA is not about to turn the tide and make history as a manga setting a new precedent or anything. That’s why I personally was so frustrated for the entire Deku solo arc (even though I’m over that phase, I still think that arc sucked bad). When I say I had to reevaluate my expectations for this manga to get over being so bitter, I meant it.

Sometimes I see posts I made last year and I’m like 😬. But ALSO my expectations for the ENDING have kinda always been the same. This post I made last year in May (during my “LOV are SJWs!” Phase no less) is still what I am banking on happening now—with the exception of a few things that my stance has changed on.

So yeah. Part of me held onto the “heroes will be the heroes no matter what” reality of the manga, but I won’t deny getting lost in the revolutionary takes and hoping for it at one point in time.

Granted I don’t want that now at all. Because that’s not where it’s going, so therefore holding onto it is just gonna make me bitter and I don’t want that? So now I’m attached to the optimistic corny ending we’re geared up for and don’t want it to change.

But yeah I say it a lot but this manga is a basic bitch.

[blakeplusplus]

i've been running out of good days. vent post incoming

this post is probably unreadable but i just need to put my thoughts down

i don't live paycheck to paycheck; i don't even look at my bank account. i don't ever go hungry, i don't ever have to stop myself from spending money on the things i want. things should be good. but i am so. fucking. lonely.

getting my current job required me to move 2 hours away from all of my IRL friends and as a result it's slowly been killing me. i don't have any friends here, i live in a red state where everyone is just usually fucking awful & i work a blue collar job which stops me from meeting people that share similar interests or vices and are also not total bigots.

and of course all my interests and hobbies are niche bullshit as a result of existing on the internet for so long, so the only places where i feel like i can truly exist are Discord communities.

it's so tiring to try and exist and the only places you can exist are places that misgender you constantly or just aren't fucking comfortable to exist in (and also misgender you constantly). in the first Discord yeah i can exist pretty comfortably and i've somewhat made friends there but it's just a fucking struggle. and then the other is a overwhelmingly queer space but i just always feel like an addon there? like if you deleted all my messages, deleted my existence, my expression, it wouldn't fucking mean anything? then the other half of the time when i actually do matter in the conversation i'm getting attacked for opinions i can only see as normal and approachable? and i get misgendered there anyway because Discord users don't check bios so

i just miss high school. i fucking hate who i was then and i hate who i hung around, but at least i had friends. at least i had people who i could unironically vent to and feel like i had that attachment.

now i'm 23, alone, in my apartment, and feeling like i have zero people to talk to.

i feel like there's some easy solution to all of this. like i should start by taking better care of myself and then slowly tackle other issues.

i don't know. im ending this post before i let this also be another eternal draft

[meadowmines]

OC-Tober Day 2: Impossible

Some Kuroshi/Kei-chan fluff with possible b0ngl0rd69? Tomita sure is an insufferable enough nerd but I haven't decided yet.

---

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Yu-chan. I didn't see--shit, wait, I've been sittin' here watchin' this idiot for HOW LONG--"

It is very much on brand for Kei-chan to get caught up in a particularly interesting task and work well beyond closing time, but it isn't like him to do so without calling in. Hence, this.

"Is there a problem?"

"Not an 'emergency' kinda problem, just..." Kei-chan's voice drops to a whisper. "I got a situation. Can ya come in so I can throw ya under the bus about it?"

Not a dangerous situation, by the sound of it. If Kuroshi had to guess, he'd wager that one of Kei-chan's... less socially apt regulars has gotten caught up in playing with the merchandise and all of the usual methods of persuasion, short of physically removing him from the premises, have failed.

"You'll owe me dinner," Kuroshi warns.

"Worth it. See ya."

---

Wonderland Games sits just off Sotenbori Street, its colorful neon sign turned off for the night but its storefront windows still far too bright for this hour. The door and windows are covered in posters exclaiming buy! sell! trade! and advertising the latest and greatest new consoles and games. There is a single decal just above the door handle marking the business as a member of the Sotenbori Civic Association. Which is why the police don't interfere with the business being conducted in the back room.

It's not what you think, whatever that might be. Yes, Kei-chan's business does contribute to the Kijin Clan's piggy bank, but it's nothing unsavory. Kuroshi doesn't understand much of the nuts and bolts, but he does understand that the manufacturers of these consoles would probably object to some of the aftermarket modifications being performed on them here... to say nothing of the less-than-ethically sourced games they're being stuffed with.

Kuroshi has a key, of course--he owns the building, after all. So he lets himself in the front door to see what in the world is keeping his better half this late.

That turns out to be a young man sitting cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand, playing a particularly bloody fighting game. There is a magazine open on the floor next to him--an American game magazine, by the look of it.

"Hey, Yu-chan." The relief in Kei-chan's voice is as thick as a heavy wool blanket. "Yo, Tomita. Look. I gotta lock up now. See, my guy's here, we got dinner reservations n' shit. Scram." A little white lie, of course. They never eat anywhere that requires reservations. But he did give Kei-chan permission to throw him under the bus.

"Wait! Just--ten more minutes! I know I'm onto somethin' here! See, it's gotta have somethin' to do with that 'BYC' floatin' across the moon--"

"The shadow thing's for unlockin' Reptile, ya dingus!"

"Exactly! And maybe different shadows mean there's more characters to unlock than Reptile!"

"Look, sittin' here watchin' ya chase a hoax was kinda fun for a while but the store's been closed for an hour."

"It ain't a hoax, Sugihara-han!" Tomita protests. "Look at those screenshots! That look like a fuckin' hoax to you?"

"What on Earth is going on here?" Kuroshi asks, knowing full well he won't understand half of the answer.

"Eh." Kei-chan flaps a dismissive hand. "Tomita here came chargin' in with this American game mag, plunked his ass down in front of the Mega Drive, says they just found a secret character in Mortal Kombat." He projects the rest of this directly at Tomita: "Which is a big ol' pile of bullshit. 'Nimbus Terrafaux?' C'mon. Tell me that don't sound fake as shit."

"But the screenshots--you can't fake those! That's impossible! You said so yourself!"

"I said it was hard as hell, not impossible!" Kei-chan rubs his forehead. "I'd buy it if it was an actual fuckin' photo of someone's TV where they found him but these are professional-ass screenshots. Whoever took these had professional-ass capture gear, and that shit ain't cheap! Now who do ya know that'd just have that kinda kit lyin' around to take whatever screenshots they wanna take and then maybe doctor 'em up with some fake characters for funsies? Ya think maybe, I dunno--" And here, Kei-chan snatches the magazine up off the floor. "An outfit like, say, Electronic Games Monthly?"

Tomita pauses the game and gives Kei-chan the most incredulous stare. "Are you sayin'," he starts, slowly, "that a respectable publication would just... make shit up?"

"That," Kei-chan counters, "is exactly what I'm sayin'."

"But they can't do that! C'mon, Sugihara! Gimme ten more minutes!"

"I gave ya ten more minutes ten minutes ago. Out."

"Have a heart, man! I'm this close to crackin' this shit--"

Kuroshi swears he hears something snap in Kei-chan's head.

"Oh," Kei-chan says, "I'll crack this shit for ya." And in one swift motion he reaches down and plucks the cartridge from the console mid-match.

"Hey!" Tomita wails. "I was--"

"C'mere, dipshit. Look." Kei-chan plugs the cartridge into... some kind of device attached to a PC and does some... things. "I'm dumpin' the ROM for ya right now."

"Ya didn't have to pull my cart out, man!"

"Oh, but I did, 'cause I coulda showed ya on another one and you'd talk some shit about different versions or whatnot. Okay. Let's pick this shit apart and I'll show ya. Here. Here's all the character sprites n' shit. There's Johnny Cage. There's Sub-Zero. There's Scorpion. There's Reptile. There's everybody's sprites except Nimbus Fuckin' Terrafaux. He doesn't fuckin' exist, man. Give it up."

Tomita stares at the screen, slack-jawed. "...I mean," he stammers, "he's a secret character and it took this long for anyone to unlock him. What if they hid his sprites in another directory--"

"What if I hid my dick in yer mom?"

Kuroshi turns away quickly. Even in this setting it just wouldn't do for a civilian to see him lose his composure.

[wrestlingisfake]

The WWE women's tag team title has been vacant for two months and the NXT women's tag team title was literally thrown in the trash. At this rate I don't expect Vince McMahon to actually do anything with these belts. They'll probably just fade away and be forgotten. But...here's what they could do.

Have Adam Pearce or somebody announce that the NXT tag belts are officially vacant, and will be unified with the vacant WWE tag belts in an 8-team tournament. Two teams apiece from Raw, Smackdown, NXT 2.0, and NXT UK. The tournament winners are the new undisputed women's tag team champions, and defend the title across all four brands.

There are two keys to making this work. First, when there isn't a women's tag title storyline on Raw/Smackdown, you move the champions over to the NXT side. That way the belts don't get lost in the shuffle whenever Vince loses interest in them, but they're still available when he is interested in them. Second, you mostly keep the belts off the top women on Raw/Smackdown, so the titleholders aren't preoccupied with singles feuds. That avoids a situation like the one where Sasha Banks and Naomi were expected to build up the tag belts but then expected to set them aside for weeks to chase the singles titles.

Of course, none of this is likely to happen in WWE. Even guidelines meant to work around Vince's quirks require Vince to abide by them, and he simply won't. The smart approach would be to have one set of belts on an NXT 2.0 team that occasionally comes up to the main roster, but any team Vince would allow to be in that position would get called up full-time to Raw or Smackdown to chase the singles champions, and we're right back where we started. He can't help himself, and nobody else will stop him.

The point is, there are ways for WWE to fix this mess, but they all assume that WWE can just turn into not-WWE long enough to not fuck it up with the usual WWE bullshit. So even if they do manage to revive a women's tag championship, don't expect it to be a lasting improvement.