Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.
Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?
Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.
The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.
Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.
It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.
I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.
He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.
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i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing
and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him
he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)
meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh
just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap
soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”
imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”
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oooooo white people in my replies really saying ‘I can excuse racism but I draw the line at homophobia’
Not surprised since this is the site that only talks about racism and thinks it’s a big deal when they see it demonstrated in the cartoons and comics they like *coughs* dungeonmeshi *coughs* (for example at least. I haven’t seen THIS many white ppl talk as in depth about racism on here as much as these fandom nerds, man. I stg. Like “Ohhhh, so you all DO acknowledge that racism is real? Just not in real life even if you could feel it slapping you in the face at high speed. Gotcha.” It’s crazy.
Tumblr is like, 90% white and is extremely centered around them. That’s why you barely see stuff that’s important to black and brown people ever trending here or being talked about. It has to be something incredibly huge to the point where even white people can’t ignore it like they usually do, to talk about it here.
They only talked about George Floyd here because the topic of his death became world news. Even people in other countries were talking about it. Before him, it was probably Ferguson and Trayvon Martin… most of them are still trying their best to ignore the genocides because it’s a “touchy subject.” What do you expect from white people who live in their own bubbles of comfort and refuse to pop it with a needle??? They find comfort in their privilege and faux ignorance (they love playing stupid to avoid conversations about important things outside of fandoms like, are these mfs born with half a brain dedicated to fandom or what.) That’s literally all these mfs make a big deal out of, especially on this annoying ass platform. The ao3 mfs will go to war for the site that allows racist ff and cp like it’s no big deal. I wonder how many people here even donated to the site while actively scrolling past dono posts from folks who really do need help. They act like they’re doing a civil service by defending this site that makes over the amount of it’s intended dono goal in minutes.
Then you already know as soon as you even bring up racism in the stuff they like, they start ganging up and harassing black bloggers especially, calling them TERFs and the whole nine. Anything to make that person look bad for being concerned about the racism that they have such an intense aversion to. God, it’s absolutely exhausting knowing that these people would have no problem choosing a cartoon character over your entire existence if they COULD. Isn’t that fucking sad, man?
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Gojo has always been a bit of a glutton. it’s his worst trait, you think, despite the many others that he inflicts upon you in your daily life. but, it’s just not enough for you. he does that with everyone, this kind, funny, flirtatious kind of banter. getou tells you he’s different with you, shoko makes note of how he’s really not like that with so many people.
but it’s not enough. so you start cooking up different things, these desserts intertwined with a certain potion that’ll make his attention be on solely you. you crush your flowers and sprinkle them into the boiling pot, sprinkle in a little bit of this and a dash of that, before you cut off a tiny piece of your hair and let it flutter into the concoction. it doesn’t let out a tuft of pink smoke in the shape of a heart, but you have faith that it’s gonna work.
“I’ll give you a piggyback ride if you let me have that,” Gojo tries to barter with you the next day he sees you, sitting under a tree and unwrapping the piece of cake that you had oh so conveniently whipped up. you pretend to think it over, unable to help your smile as you think about how easy this is going to be, before agreeing.
it happens over time, the effects of the love potion. first, Gojo becomes a bit more clingy. he hurries across campus to make sure that he’s able to walk you back to your apartment, carries all of your bags for you. then he starts buying you all sorts of things that you don’t necessarily need (do you want breakfast?, do you need a new laptop?, can I buy you a new bed?, can we break it in?).
and everything is great at first. you adore the attention, the grandeur way he asks you to be his partner, how he moves you in quick, loves you even quicker. but, after a while, it just becomes a bit…much.
his love is never ending, which shouldn’t be a bad thing, but his love is also—everything. it’s in every crevice of your body, every nook and cranny between the walls, every exhale you take. he’s there—always just there—always just close and lingering and clingy (where are you going? can I come with you? why are you looking at me like that? don’t you love me? I love you, I love you so much, so where are you going?)
it’s not until you’re suffocating that you realize your mistake, all too late. Gojo is all encompassing, takes up all the space in your head and your line of vision and your breaths and the blood that flows in your veins. he loves you—this was what you wanted, right?—but you never wanted this, this obsession that bleeds from his very being every second that he’s near you, which is every second of every single fucking day. you never wanted any of this.
“Baby?” Gojo calls from the other side of the locked door, clawing at it like some forlorn house cat even though you know he could take it down if he so pleased. “Are you almost finished? I miss you,” his voice is a plead, as if his heart is shriveling up in his chest with every second he’s not pressed against you.
with a sigh, do you finally lift yourself from the corner of the bathroom floor, unfolding your limbs with a groan. you don’t dare look at yourself in the mirror, fearing the image of the hollowed person that is bound to stare back at you. with hesitation, do you finally unlock the door. you don’t even have to pull it open before Gojo is barging his way in, engulfing you in long arms that seem to wrap around you like some never ending boa constrictor.
“You’d never try to leave me, right? Because you love me so much.” Gojo says into your hair, his voice one that tries to convince you of its truth. and there is some there, along with the guilt of ruining him in this grotesque way that you have no other choice but to accept and live with until it suffocates you.
“Yeah.” your murmur, sinking into his body, let him hold you so close, you think you can feel his veins pulling at his skin to intertwine with your own. “Yeah, I love you, Satoru.”
(he doesn’t dare tell you that he knew all about that little potion you whipped up, how it never had any actual affect on him for more than just a couple hours. but this was what you wanted, right? for him to love you? so why not continue to just love you in his own way that’s somehow, convincingly, all your fault? why not let you take the blame for his greediness? you wanted this, right? right?)
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