#cannot take it folks.

[d-andilion]

fyi anyone i see even SUGGESTING that we shouldn't vote in november is getting blocked. i'm not playing fucking games this time, vote or die.

[stevebabey]

Dustin denotes his plan as a stroke of genius. Steve calls it fucking crazy.

It is crazy — going down to the police station and giving a completely faux alibi for Eddie is crazy.

But then, Steve recalls the handcuffs on the hospital bed, keeping him strapped in even though Eddie’s hardly in a state for escape, all bandages and wires. Steve remembers the fitful sleeps he’s witnessed when visiting, remembers Eddie’s ashamed whisper of fear that one of the officers would smother him in his sleep if no one stayed with him.

Steve remembers the bats. Remembers all the other shit Eddie got dragged through.

And if Steve can lessen that blow… well, then maybe he is crazy for going through with the plan.

There’s no prepping Eddie for it, of course, considering he’s being guarded around the clock. Steve thinks it’s ridiculous considering how feeble he feels just looking at Eddie. When he— when they had gotten him out, there was a moment where he was more blood than boy. Just jagged skin held together by Steve’s hands and sheer will.

He shivers involuntarily. This is crazy, Steve thinks, shifting a bit in the chair out the front of Eddie’s room, waiting for the discussion across the hall to meet its end. It’s crazy, but he’s already done it now.

Sharp footsteps sound across the hallway and Steve’s head yanks up. His heart beats too fast and he presses his palms down into his jeans to wipe them, standing up quickly.

“So?” He asks, eyes darting between Chief Powell and Deputy Callahan.

“That’s quite the alibi you’ve provided, Mr Harrington.” There’s a cool expression on Chief Powell’s face, giving away nothing. “One that not many would be so willing to give.”

Steve swallows. Presses down the panic tied to the implications of what he’s told them— him and Eddie. Him and Eddie together.

“We’d like to question Mr Munson a little as well, get everything settled. You know,” He makes a little gesture with his hand. “Make sure your stories line up.”

A new strain of panic jolts in Steve’s stomach and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he peers between the blinds and tries to find Eddie’s face. He can only see the hospital bed, stark white sheets and hundreds of tubes. Steve tries to remember that he anticipated this, he prepared for this.

“Now?” He asks, turning back to face the officers. He tries to appear like his uneasiness comes from concern, instead of panic. “He’s just had another dose of morphine, I’m not sure how up to questions he’ll be.”

Chief Powell narrows his eyes. Steve silently begs him to take the bait — he doesn’t want to defer the questioning, he just needs a little more wiggle room in case Eddie is slow on the uptake. He’s a performer though. Steve hopes that’ll be enough to convince them.

“Now is best.”

Steve nods, his face grave. “I understand. Just… if he’s a bit slow, give him time to find his answers. He doesn’t know that I’ve… told you.”

Steve’s hand presses down on the handle to the room and the door opens with a hiss. He enters the room, his eyes landing on the officer posted by the door first before they travel onto the bed, to Eddie.

The chair beside the bed is empty for now which means Wayne must be off getting some food. Good, Steve thinks. This will be easiest with a smaller audience to convince.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, resting as best he can, but at the new noise they peek open. The ripple of happy emotion will help their case immensely but Steve delights in the fact that that reaction is genuine. Eddie is happy to see him.

“Big boy!” He rasps as a greeting. He waves one hand up, wires sticking out of it and the handcuff on it clinks uncomfortably, and he begins a spiel. “Welcome back to my humble—”

He cuts himself off when he sees there are other visitors today besides Steve. The heart monitor jumps and Eddie’s hand drops, eyes back onto Steve in an instant.

“What’s going on?”

Steve strides to his side, his hand reaching out to curl his fingers around Eddie’s limp hand. His skin is cool to touch, fingers icy. Surprise jumps onto Eddie’s face but his fingers tighten their grip, holding his hand too. Steve sits down in the seat beside the bed and lets the real nerves of the situation make his voice tremble when he speaks.

“I— I had to tell them, Eddie. About your real alibi.”

To his credit, Eddie only lets confusion wash over his face for a moment before it turns to some mixture of anger and sadness. A furrow forms between his brows, his grip on Steve’s hand tightening, and Steve doesn’t think he’s acting at all when he says, “You didn’t.”

Huh. Maybe he’s figured it out after all, Steve thinks.

Steve nods solemnly, letting his thumb wander over the back of Eddie’s hand. He remembers what it’s like to dote on girls, on Nancy, and find it’s not nearly as hard to bring it all out for Eddie either.

“I had to,” He murmurs, reaching a hand out to brush back some of Eddie’s hair. The heart monitor spikes again and Eddie’s cheeks glow pink.

Behind them, Chief Powell clears his throat and Steve jumps, remembering himself and what he’s trying to accomplish here.

“Excuse us, Mr. Munson, we have a few questions for you.”

There’s a moment where they let their words register and Eddie takes a deep breath, squeezing Steve’s hand and giving a little nod. Chief Powell continues.

“Mr. Harrington here has come forward with a statement that would place you elsewhere than the scene of the crime at the time of Miss Cunningham’s murder. Can you recall where you were that night?”

The mention of Chrissy’s name makes Eddie flinch and Steve’s glad he’s already holding his hand so he can squeeze it gently. Eddie’s gaze drops to their intertwined hands and stares hard for a moment. Shuffling puzzle pieces into place.

Steve leans down, presses a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles, and says “Tell them the truth.”

Eddie inhales sharply, steeling his nerves and turns his attention back to the officers. “I was with Steve. We were… we were at his house.”

Chief Powell nods, scratching words down in his notepad. He hums in a way that tells Eddie to keep going.

“We were…” Eddie trails off and looks to Steve, trying to follow the story already planted. Steve nods, hoping it comes off like he’s trying to be comforting boyfriend, instead of a subtle nudge.

“…Kissing.”

Steve resists the urge to snort at the absurdity of the whole situation. This whole thing is so convoluted and it’s twisted that Eddie’s even been accused but Steve’s putting his fuckin’ reputation on the line and Eddie says they’ve been kissing?

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know some eyebrows have raised behind him.

“Kissing?” Steve hears Chief Powell repeat. “Just… kissing?”

Eddie’s attention snaps forward again and Steve can see him piece together the snappy persona, the Freak, the scary dog privileges that come with being an outsider. He straightens up a bit, shoulders squaring but Steve can feel the quake in his hand.

“I’m sorry, did you want a play by play of the whole act, Chief Powell? I can go into detail if you want, who took who’s pants off first, yanno, but I didn’t peg you for that kinda guy.”

Steve can’t miss this reaction, turning his head to watch both officers shuffle uncomfortably on the spot. Chief Powell tries to keep his power, eyes narrowing, but it’s hard to maintain when Steve dots another quick kiss across Eddie’s knuckle.

“Very well.” He seems to land on. “We’ll be back to collect a formal statement later—”

Eddie gives a faint squeak, his hand grasping Steves that much tighter.

“—but I’m happy to have the guard and cuffs removed from your room for now.”

A sigh so large escapes Eddie that his chest deflates a good couple inches and Steve feels his own shoulders relax a bit. Chief Powell steps forward, key retrieved from his belt and Steve winces seeing the ring of irritated skin around Eddie’s wrist. No doubt caused from the thrashing of night terrors.

He releases Eddie’s hand long enough for it to be freed, scooping it back up in his as soon as he can, properly this time. All fingers intertwined, palm to palm. Eddie eyes their hands again and Steve pretends to not hear the jump in the heart monitor.

The officers leave, including the one holding post, the door sliding shut with a gentle click and Steve holds himself still— unsure of how to start explaining what he had sprung on Eddie. He feels bad, dropping him in the deep end, even if it was for his own good.

“Eddie—” He starts.

“Hug me.” Eddie hisses out the corner of his mouth. When Steve doesn’t react, he says it again, fiercer - it doesn’t match the way he’s smiling so sweetly at Steve. “Hug. Me.”

Steve does as he’s told, shooting up onto his feet and hesitating only for a moment before Eddie’s arms are creeping around his waist — he leans over and tries to keep his weight off him. Eddie’s frazzled curls tickle at his cheek and Steve just burrows his face in further.

There’s a faint whisper into his ear. “They were watching still.”

Steve pulls back a bit, not to check over his shoulder, but to see Eddie’s face. He’s serious, eyes skirting the window behind them but the moment Steve pulls back, his eyes shift down and he softens.

“And now… kiss me too?” He says. His tone conveys that he knows he’s being far too cheeky. Steve’s wonders if the officers are still watching. Wonders if he’d still kiss him even if they weren’t. He casts a glance over his shoulder and is met with a empty window, the officers retreating down the hall.

He turns back to Eddie with an incredulous expression. “What? Getting you off murder charges not good enough for you?”

Eddie’s face shutters for a moment, as though every emotion to do with Steve’s sacrifice floods him at once. There’s a burst of gratitude when he doesn’t mention it — doesn’t mention everything Steve might be giving up for Eddie, everything that might crumble should the details of the case become public.

He chooses the joke again. Eddie always does.

“Yes, but remember, we’re madly in love,” Eddie sings, brows wiggling about on his face and making Steve snort. “So feel free to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

Steve snorts. “Duly noted, Munson.”

Eddie throws his head back softly against his pillow and pretends to wail in pain. “Munson? That’s all I am to you? That’s how you treat your boyfriend?”

Steve can’t help but grin a little at the theatrics and finds himself thinking that of all the people to be stuck pretending he’s dating, at least with Eddie, it’ll be enjoyable. Well, at least interesting. It will certainly be an experience.

“You have no idea how I treat my boyfriends, baby.” Steve says, voice low, just to see if he can get Eddie’s heart monitor to jump again. It does, a steady beeping as the BPM climbs up a few numbers.

Steve can feel the blush on Eddie’s cheeks, he’s so close, and it’s so nice to see colour on his face — such a stark comparison to the paleness of- well, of older memories.

Steve grins. Despite every nerve that feels singed beneath his skin, overworked from all his anxiety — despite considering every potential backlash that faces both them outside this room, outside the hospital, Steve searches within himself.

He can’t find one single ounce of regret.

next part.

[showsandstuff]

I can’t believe I watched this wonderfully queer show and ended up with my OTP including homophobic woman and a misogynistic man 😔😔😔

[littlefankingdom]

Telltale Bruce Wayne is so good. He is a good boy, he's Alfred's son, he is a bit awkward with people sometimes, he cares about his friends, he's full of hope for Gotham and its people. He's rich but was raised by the help and IT SHOWS, and his intelligence is from being raised by Alfred. He stays dramatically under the rain where his parent died when he is sad, he doesn't let corrupted politicians or mob boss threaten him or tell him what to do, he wants mental ill people to be treated better and doesn't punch first people who are clearly mentally unstable, he's invested in Gotham even without the cape on. (This Bruce will adopt a ton of children and be good to them. Good dad right here, will get them therapy and not be mean to them)

And he looks like a wet cat behind a screen door, pleading for the human to open it. Understandable that the local cat lady fell for him.

[scrawnytreedemon]

While I intend this blog to remain a largely news-free space due to the constant hellstate of the world, let me be clear that I stand in full support of both the Palestinian and Jewish peoples who are currently experiencing relentless hate and suffering in these horrid times.

I am disgusted at the number of people, especially "progressives" on this website who have used this situation to spread both Islamophobia and Antisemitism. This goes double if you dared to reblog those "punch nazis/fascists <3" and "[x] are welcome here!" posts while in the next breath spreading dangerous fucking narratives that kill people.

So many people in online political spaces evidently see this as nothing more than a case of picking "sides", when ultimately what matters is supporting the oppressed against fascist governments and militias, wherever they are.

Common people will always have more alike with each other than their leaders. This is not a novel concept. Your activism should always be motivated by love and compassion first, and hatred second. If you use your beliefs as an excuse to find an acceptable target to vent your hatred towards regardless of the actual material outcome, you are no fucking activist.

You're a bigot.

[maingh0st]

I always noticed that Warner guy is always compared to Cardan. Thoughts?

hm, wild. they live in very different categories of characters in my mind haha. I guess on a surface level, they occupy similar spaces narratively: they start out as a more antagonizing figure to the MC, but you can tell that their obsession with the MC is shot-through with attraction. and they eventually become the I Worship My Wife kind of MMCs, which is fun but not exactly uncommon in fiction.

but while Cardan is an individual schoolyard bully who represents something very personal to Jude (he is a living reminder that she does not belong in Elfhame), Warner is an active representative of an oppressive global order that has made Juliette's and countless others' lives Very Bad. the power dynamic is really different, and has to be handled a lot more sensitively. and (in my opinion) I'm... not sure it is.

I think my biggest gripe with Warner as a character (and I am really not trying to start discourse here—people enjoy what they enjoy, whatever; I thought he was hot when I was a teen, too) is that his actions are almost always presented very romantically, and the narrative rarely tells us he's wrong. Juliette is the silly little woman who just doesn't understand, but thank goodness the love interest knows that she does like him, she is attracted to him, and she does want the power he offers her. silly girl, he knows you better than you know yourself! this is not uncommon in fiction; authors seem to think that a male character knowing better than a female character and forcing her to "become powerful" is somehow girlboss feminism (SJM and the "it's your choice" nonsense 🔪)

Warner also demonstrates a frankly concerning level of obsession with Juliette (maybe another reason people try to compare him to Cardan?), going so far as to steal and memorize sections of Juliette's diary, which she feels very violated by (they're her most private, intimate thoughts from a very dark time in her life! holy shit buddy who gave you the right!). but rather than the narrative being like "wow isn't this scary and weird and a total violation of her privacy?" he gets rewarded for Knowing Her So Well and ultimately gets to be her malewife.

Cardan, on the other hand, is wrong. we know he's wrong! the author knows he's wrong! and while the narrative shows us reasons that he is the way he is, it does not use those reasons to justify him. it makes him more understandable, but he still has to apologize and change. Jude is not treated as silly for disliking and mistrusting him; she's absolutely in the right! and Cardan has to realize that he has misunderstood her and both underestimated her (not realizing just how much of a threat she is) and overestimated her (thinking that nothing really hurts her bc she's so tough).

also, Cardan is more fun. there, I said it! Warner is melodramatic and purple proses @ the reader about what a Conflicted Guy he is. Cardan is a slutty little dude with crushing self-confidence issues who gets tricked into the Number One Job He Did Not Want and decides to cope with it by being Very Silly, and then somewhere along the way realizes that he can actually do a good job at it. he oopsies his way into being Elfhame's best king. who's doing it like him?

[avid-adoxography]

I just finished watching Once Upon a Studio and holy shit?????

THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN?? ON SCREEN?!??

CHERNADADDY?????

THE QUEEN HERSELF??? Uh, no wait, she's famous I shouldn't be this excited.. BUT STILL!!!!

AND!! and- wait a second...

HELLO???

HUSBAND (and beloved Gremlin) SPOTTED! I REPEAT, HUSBAND SPOTTED! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!!

[loptrcoptr]

Tumblr fandom logic these days: if two characters with different sets of genitals hook up, then they’re straight and cis and the ship is hetero and it’s all Bad and Boring and Problematic

My old tired bi ass:

“All that matters is what’s in your pants” is not the great woke take y’all seem to think it is!!!

[not-poignant]

how do you have the time to write all this stuff /and/ play video games etc etc at the same time? Is it just that you write insanely fast after all these years? I have a lot of hobbies, writing being one of them, and i have such a hard time juggling them lol.

Hi anon,

So, real talk -> The reality is I don't have the time to write and play video games at the same time most of the time.

I haven't written anything since the 17th. I haven't started the next Palmarosa chapter. I'm on day 8 of not having opened a new document and writing anything.

I've edited a whole two chapters (which I suspect I have to go over again) and I've responded to some comments and asks, and that's it. No writing, no growing wordcount, I've been stagnating / not doing anything due to burnout since the 17th (I know the date because I have a giant whiteboard of completed chapters next to me).

Honestly, most of the time I don't actually have the time to read, play video games, watch television, or movies. I am too busy writing/editing/sleeping. With Toby in the mix, the small amount of media I was consuming has vanished.

Sometimes I can play certain video games while writing - these are usually low stakes video games I can endlessly put on pause and then play for five minutes at a time, like Dorfromantik and Garden Galaxy. Any kind of idler video game, like Havendock is also good for this.

Anon, you can't have a lot of hobbies and actually keep up with them and write the way I do, and therapist/s wouldn't recommend you drop all of your hobbies to write the way I do anyway. Trust me.

I had two things I wanted to start learning this year, and I haven't started learning them yet. I don't have the capacity. I had a therapist gently point out to me that if I was always at 100 in terms of output, how can I have any energy leftover for self-work and processing? The answer is: I don't. (That's actually why I've spent a week playing video games, and if anything it's just reminded me that my capacity is still at 100 and this is going to take a bit of concerted decompression).

Most of the time it's not normally quite this overwhelming. Toby has just maxed me out because he's a high energy dog who is also a puppy with Separation Anxiety, and there's no quick or easy fix for that. But most of the time it's still very intense. The list of shows I really want to watch, and books I really want to read, is very long. But I often don't have time to indulge in those things because I'm too busy writing.

A lot of the time I don't actually have the time to reread my own fics anymore, outside of editing.

This year was meant to kind of tackle that more decisively but you know then we got a puppy so... not so much.

But yeah anon, there is no 'how do you do this and do this' - you don't do one of those things, or you do it very haphazardly, in small amounts.

I do write very fast (my wordcount is 120-150wpm), but I don't edit fast (I'd tender that editing fast for most people is a bit of an oxymoron), I don't answer asks fast (some of the longer ones take me an hour to compose), etc. And even then, writing fast is not the same as the time it takes to think out the chapter, to figure out what's happening, letting it percolate etc. A lot of my life is also just resting. I lose about 2-5 hours of every afternoon to sleep or rest for example, where nothing productive happens. And I think one of the reasons I read so many manwha atm is that they're so easy to read comparatively, and so quick, and that's the only way I can really consume stories these days.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

The university protests are the result of so many complex socio-political and economic factors, and I genuinely don't want to minimize the presence of other influences

But at the same time, it is REALLY hard not to look at the liberal and republican response to college students exercising their First Amendment rights and hear the sound of decades of authoritarian parenting standing over you and yelling "look what you made me do!"

[skwtches]

“a Winnie the Pooh-inspired indie game?? that’s so neat! it’s nice to see more stuff come out of this property becoming public-domain, and especially something that isn’t just a horror-“

[bougiebutchbitch]

wow I've sure blocked or unfollowed a lot of people I used to really like and respect over their absolutely abominable opinions recently

[betasuppe]

@sublimeasteland I mean... Is this not us??????

Tron is absolute baby & Rinzler is total bastard, but gOD does this program make me fEEL THINGS?????

[a-very-fond-farewell]

opening the faucets in this c/hili’s tonight

[drinkingbitterboy]

note to self: post more alex closet cosplays when i need a pick me up/ego boost.

thank you to everyone for being so nice to me 🥹

[official-lauchzwiebel]

My bonnie cuckoo I tell thee true that through the grass I'll rove with you I'll rove with you until the next spring and then my cuckoo shall sweetly sing

the ash and the hazel shall morning say oh bonnie cuckoo don't go away don't go away but tary here and make the spring last all the year