#like goddamn just let that dog die

[sleepis4theweak]

My roommate watched Frankenweenie... which I... disliked tbh...

ANYWAYS: Have a lil Donnie doing some sketchy science stuff <3

[absentlyabbie]

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

28 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 5

...

Soap stares at his name where it's inked across your skin. You should be his enemy. He's sitting across from you, your interrogator in this dimly lit weapons closet. You refuse to look at him. But his gaze bores into you anyway, intense on your eyes, your lips, the cuts and bruises on your face. He wants you. But he can only have you once you've given him the information Captain Price needs.

"Tell me where Alejandro is," he says. "That's all you need to do."

A muscle in your jaw twitches when he mentions Graves' name, but you bite your tongue. You won't let him shake your resolve like he did in Las Almas. You should've killed him on sight.

"What Graves is doing to Alejandro--you know it's wrong." Soap’s gaze is steady. You're so close. He wants you so badly it hurts. "He's not a good man.”

"You have no idea what kind of man he is," you say.

"I know exactly the kind of man he is," he growls. "I saw what he did to the people in Las Almas. He called them dirty cops and had them executed when they said they didn't know anything. Innocent people. In front of their families. Their children." Soap's hands curl into fists on the table between you. "He's not the kind of man who deserves your loyalty."

Your cuffs clink as your arms flex against the chair. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right. I wouldn't." Soap's knuckles pop, his voice low and dark. All his life he's waited for you. Now Graves--fucking Graves, who betrayed Soap and his team and tried to murder them all--is somehow the one keeping you from him. "I don't understand what you see in that bastard."

You say nothing, eyes trained on the far wall.

Soap's shoulders tighten. "You're just a tool to him."

"I’m a soldier. I choose to follow orders. So do you.”

"You're following his orders. You think that makes you a soldier, being a weapon? No. Makes you a damn dog."

You say nothing.

Soap grips the table until it creaks. "You think he cares about you.”

"It doesn't matter if he does or not."

"It does so bloody matter. You’re no’ some pawn he can just throw away." God damn you. He wants to grab you with both hands and shake you. To hell with this interrogation--he's got half a mind to lock you down somewhere padded until you get it through your skull that you're not worthless. He scowls at you. "You're better than this. You have to be."

Cold irritation seeps through your mask. "Am I?" Soulmate or not, he doesn’t know you.

At the look on your face, Soap's scowl deepens. He's going to kill that bastard, and he's going to do it slowly. "What about Graves is more important to you than the innocent lives he took? Does that mean nothing to you?”

"Orders are orders."

Soap's voice drops to a dangerous pitch. "Look me in the eye and say that.”

You don’t. You tell yourself it’s because he has no power over you. He can’t tell you what to do.

Soap crosses his arms. "'S what I thought. You're bluffing."

"I'm not."

"Bullshit. Graves is nothing but Shepherd's lapdog. Gettin’ paid to commit goddamn war crimes.”

"Shut your mouth," you snap. "You have no idea what happened--"

You stumble on the next syllable and go silent, realizing suddenly that you're looking him in the eye.

Johnny's a man of impulse, and it takes all the self-control he has to keep himself in place the moment you lock eyes. The pull he feels to you right now is overwhelming. You're in reach. He leans forward. Those brilliant blue eyes of his see all the way down into your soul. They’re just the same as you remember--eerily vivid, pupils blown, with his jaw set hard.

"What happened to what, darlin'?"

You shift, skin prickling. You want to cross your arms over yourself and clap your hand over the soulmark on your neck. "You don't know what happened in Al Mazrah."

"You were ambushed."

You nod, remembering that night of the mission. You've seen your squadmates die before. It's a hazard of the job, part of being a mercenary. But that night--seeing so many Shadows gunned down before they could so much as draw their weapons--it still haunts you.

"Shepard didn't know. It wasn't like we-- it was supposed to be a simple transport mission."

"It was a black bag op."

"That's what Shadows do. We take missions people don't like. Someone has to step in where you military dogs won't."

"Where was Shepherd when it went tits up, hm?" Soap's lip curls. "No air support on an illegal op. He left you to be killed. And now he needs someone to blame. It's not gonna be him taking that bullet. It's gonna be you."

"Captain Graves can handle it."

Soap lets out a rough sigh. Your insistence on Graves is rubbing him raw. You could have died on that op two months ago. And then what? He'd have never met you, only found your name later in stone on some memorial somewhere. The thought makes his chest go cold and his blood run hot. It could still happen. If he can't tear you away from this bloody mercenary work, you'll never be his. Christ. He can't let that happen. He won't. You're not going back to the Shadow Company. He'll tear Graves into pieces before he lets that happen.

He fixates on your soulmark again. Why can't he focus on getting the information Price needs? All he can think about right now is the scab on your lip, the way your pupils dilate when you look at him. Your body wants his even as you're spitting venom. The fire in you matches his own, and he wants more.

"Graves isn't here," Soap tells you. "And I'm not takin’ chances. You’re not going back to Shepherd, and you’re sure as hell not going back to Graves. You're mine."

You pull on your cuffs, hating the way the possessive note in his voice makes your stomach flip. "You don't get to decide that."

"Neither do you.”

"Isn't a matter of choice. It's a matter of what you’re gonnae do about it."

You swallow and watch his gaze track down your throat. He's close. When did he lean in? Why aren't you pulling back?

No, you tell yourself, you’re not scared. You’re in control. You lean a millimeter closer. "You can't keep me here."

His eyes brighten, gaze so intense it warms your skin. "Careful, darlin'. You don't want to throw down that gauntlet."

"And you expect me to tell you whatever you want to know? Fuck my career, fuck my squadmates?"

"If you weren't so damn dense, I'd--" He mutters another string of curses in that thick Scottish accent, standing from his chair and pacing the tight room. "You don't understand what I'm offerin’. You don't need them. You have me an' mine."

He circles around to your side of the interrogation table and kneels next to you, his expression an open plea for you to listen. You stare down at him with your heart suddenly in your throat. You can't backpedal. You can't look away.

He searches your face. Even roughed up, even pissing him off, you're beautiful. Damn it, he's going to do something stupid if he doesn't control himself.

He keeps his voice low and even. "You were expendable to them. You're expendable to Graves. You're no' expendable to me." He reaches up to you, and you go still. His hand is hot on your skin. His grip is surely strong enough to break bone. But only his thumb drags along your lip. His eyes follow the motion. "Your loyalty should be for people who care about you. I'm on your side, ya wee shite. Just tell me how to get to Alejandro and I'll get you out of here. I'll make sure you're safe. That's all I need to know."

You stare down at him. Your heart beats in your ears, and his pulse hammers with yours. You can feel it through his thumb against the sensitive skin on your lower lip.

Johnny wants you so badly you almost give in. He thinks he's telling the truth--that he'll protect you. But he doesn't know any better. You're not who he wants you to be. You're not soft. You're not good. Why does he act like he can see something redeemable in you?

Being his soulmate doesn't guarantee you a goddamn thing. Promises don't afford you any more protection than you've already given yourself. You know that very well. People aren't reliable. Soulmarks don’t fix everything. They’re just ink.

Whatever he sees when he looks up at you makes something cold and sharp settle in his chest. His throat constricts. He's pushing, he knows he is, and it's the wrong move with you. He's never been this desperate for anyone.

"Darlin'. Don't do that. Don't shut me out." His voice wavers just like his resolve. He'd protect you to his last. You refuse to see that, and he can't make you.

You look away, pulling away from his hand. "I don't trust you."

Johnny's stomach drops, and he digs his fingers into the metal chair to stop himself from digging them into you.

You want him. He can see it in the set of your shoulders, how tight you hold yourself when he's close to you. You want him despite yourself, and you still refuse. It doesn't matter how rational a decision it should be to accept his help. There's something else happening in your head that's keeping your walls up, and he's starting to realize it's not just Graves. It can't be.

He watches you for a long moment. He doesn't want you to hurt, but he's not stupid enough to believe you'll soften up and come around with time. You're a soldier.

Finally, Soap stands. If you don’t tell him what he needs to know, you’ll remain a hostage, and won’t be able to have you. He won’t accept that.

"Fine," he says, pushing his way out the door. "We’ll do this the hard way."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / [part 5] / part 6

more Soap / masterlist tag

[loveinhawkins]

“Why are you wearing cologne?” Dustin asks after barely one second in the van.

“I’m not,” Eddie says, and promptly wants to die at how unconvincing that was. It’s not even technically a lie…

He makes it out of the school parking lot with Dustin saying jackshit, so for a little while, he thinks he’s gotten away with it.

More fool him.

Dustin abruptly lunges to the side, all up in his face like the world’s most dedicated sniffer dog.

“Ew, gross! Get off, man, I’m gonna crash,” Eddie says, even though they’ve been at a stop light for the past minute.

“Okay, correction,” Dustin says, drawing back. “Why are you wearing Steve’s cologne?”

Eddie stares into the middle distance, prays for The Upside Down to come and swallow him up.

An agonising silence.

“Oh my god,” Dustin whisper-screams. “Oh my god.”

“Look, just—”

“Oh my god!”

And yup, ow, that’s definitely become a full blown scream now, and double ow, Dustin has just socked him one in the arm.

“Hey!”

“What the fuck, Eddie?! How could you not—”

“Jesus! Take a damn chill pill, Henderson, I swear to—”

“Since when you do you say shit like—oh my God, Steve says shit like that. You can’t let him get to you like this, Eddie, you’re too young to die.”

“What does that even mean?”

Dustin keeps jiggling Eddie by the arm as he pulls up to Dustin’s house. Even when his stomach is jangling with nerves, he can’t fight a smile at the kid’s antics.

“Holy shit, this is big,” Dustin says with wide eyes, and it bothers Eddie that he can’t get a hold of what sort of expression is on his face. “This is huge.”

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t seem all that funny anymore.

“It’s not,” Eddie says quietly. “It’s really not. It doesn’t have to be, like… look, Dustin, can we just—if it bothers you, just drop it, and we can pretend like—”

“Wait, what? No.” And now Eddie can read the remorse on his face. “Shit, sorry. Eddie, I didn’t mean, like… big in a bad way, I swear.”

And goddamn it, Eddie trusts him. Of course he does.

“Okay.” He lets out a long sigh, tipping his head back in his seat. “Okay.”

“I just meant… like, you know The Royal Family? In England.”

…What.

“Oh, please, run with this analogy,” Eddie says, a mixture of curious and hysterical, “I’m dying to see where it goes.”

“You know, when they have news, they put it outside the… Palace? Like, on a stand. So people know.”

“Are you fucking implying that you are the public to our… wow, I’m so sorry, Henderson.” Eddie can’t take it anymore; he wheezes with laughter, can’t hide how relieved he sounds. “Next time I’ll ruin your front lawn and put a huge fucking sign there, then you’ll know that—”

“I didn’t mean it literally, asshole. I just…” Dustin shrugs. “Just meant if you wanted to, like… mention it. It would be cool. It is cool.”

“Cool,” Eddie echoes faintly.

“Cool,” Dustin repeats, emphatic.

Jesus Christ, I love you so much.

“Aw, Henderson,” Eddie says, “were you gonna make us a card or something?”

“Do you want a card?” Dustin says dryly.

And yeah, he’s being a little shit about it, but there’s also a note of sincerity hiding in there that has Eddie fighting a lump in his throat. He chuckles through it, flicks Dustin’s forehead.

“C’mon, get out before your mom thinks I’ve kidnapped you.”

“She thinks you’re an angel now, and you know it. It’s horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Saint.”

Eddie waits until Dustin’s at his front door before reversing, watches him with silent fondness as he greets his cat.

He says through the side window, “Hey, Dustin?”

Dustin turns back. “Yeah?”

“We’d have told you first anyway. We were gonna, I swear.” Eddie scoffs. Smiles. “Not our fault you’re Sherlock Holmes, man.”

Dustin smirks, but his eyes are soft. “It was pretty elementary.”

[good-chimes]

Operational Log from the Government Institute for Ghost Supervision (G.I.G.S.):

AGENTS: “ImpulseSV”, “Skizzleman”, “Grian”, “GoodTimesWithScar”

SUPERVISOR: [Redacted]

[Impulse has submitted a request for ‘$2000’ for reason ‘Van’]

SUPERVISOR: Hi boys. Pleasure to be working with you. Can you give a better reason than ‘van’ for why you need two fucking thousand American dollars?

IMPULSE: Oh, sorry sir. We just need to replace some things in the van.

GRIAN: By which he means everything in the van.

SUPERVISOR: You lost ALL YOUR EQUIPMENT?

IMPULSE: You’re new, aren’t you, sir. Have you…met Scar?

SUPERVISOR: I have your personnel files. What does this have to do with Scar?

GRIAN: Oh, you’ll find out.

IMPULSE: Our last supervisor just sort of, uh, approved things. I’ve got receipts.

SKIZZ: We’re at the school, guys! Stop chatting and get in there!

IMPULSE: Gotta go!

[crackle]

GRIAN: Okay, so Scar, Impulse and Skizz are in the building. So far we’ve got the power turned on but no clues. There’s a spooky sort of bonfire in the main hall. Got skulls on it.

SCAR: I lit the bonfire!

GRIAN: Breaking news, Scar has lit the bonfire.

SUPERVISOR: Why did you light the bonfire!? You could draw the attention of a ghost!

GRIAN: Yeah, Skizz, why did you let Scar set something on fire? Pretty irresponsible.

SKIZZ: [noise of incoherent outrage] You try stopping him, buddy.

GRIAN: Can’t, I’m in the van. [further noise of outrage from Skizz]. Impulse is reporting EMF Level 5—didn’t anyone set up cameras? What kind of team doesn’t set up cameras? We’ve got a new supervisor to impress.

SUPERVISOR: Cameras should not be set up during a mission! You should have set them up in the daytime!

IMPULSE: We could use some cameras.

SKIZZ: GRIAN, YOU GET IN HERE, BUDDY.

GRIAN: Okay, okay, fine! I’ll get the cameras.

SUPERVISOR: Why are you risking the whole team in the building at the same—

[Scar has submitted request for ‘$5’ for reason ‘glowsticks’]

SUPERVISOR: Why on god’s green earth do you need glowsticks!?

SKIZZ: Scar, those don’t do anything.

SCAR: They keeps you safe from ghosts!

SKIZZ: What, because they’re too cool for raves?

SCAR: I want glowsticks or I’m resigning.

SUPERVISOR: You can’t resign in the middle of mission!

IMPULSE: Haunt! Everyone quiet!

SUPERVISOR: Wait, a real haunt? That’s highly dangerous! Get out!

[crackle]

IMPULSE: False alarm, that noise was Skizz and Scar frying hot dogs.

[Scar has submitted request for ‘$1’ for reason ‘needs salt’]

SUPERVISOR: Not approved! You’re not supposed to fry hotdogs on an eldritch bonfire!

SKIZZ: We were hungry!

GRIAN: Wait, you guys have hotdogs in there? I’m coming in.

IMPULSE: Oh, wait—wait—yep, there’s the haunt.

[crackle]

GRIAN: Well, Scar’s dead.

SUPERVISOR: Oh god! What!

IMPULSE: I was wondering why they didn’t get attacked. Just a slow ghost, I guess.

SUPERVISOR: An agent is dead and you’re joking!?

GRIAN: Oh, he’ll be fine.

SKIZZ: I got some tarot cards here.

SUPERVISOR: Don’t touch the cursed items! Find your colleague’s body!

[crackle]

SCAR: I hate all of you. You left me to die.

SUPERVISOR: What? Just a goddamn minute. That was a joke? Agent Scar is alive?

IMPULSE: Scar, buddy, cheer up.

SCAR: Grian shut a door in my face!

SUPERVISOR: One agent impeded another’s investigation?

SCAR: Yeah! I was impuded!

GRIAN: What! How is this my fault! A ghost was coming at me and I shut a door!

SCAR: And killed me!

GRIAN: That sounds like a you problem.

SCAR: Sir, I want to file a complaint. About Grian.

SUPERVISOR: Well, put in a placeholder and we’ll—

[Scar has submitted file ‘grain Complaint’]

[Grian has submitted file ‘Grian’s Official Resignation Letter’]

SUPERVISOR: Boys, this sounds like it’s gotten heated, let’s take it offline. Agent Scar, we’ll look into this later. Agent Grian, put your resignation on hold.

IMPULSE: They do this a lot.

SKIZZ: It’s affection. You love each other.

SCAR: I love Grian not murdering me.

GRIAN: I love Scar saving me some hot dogs. Oh wait, he didn’t.

SKIZZ: C’mon, fellas, where’s this ghost?

IMPULSE: We gotta use some of these cursed items.

GRIAN: I vote Scar looks in the haunted mirror. Anyone else want to volunteer? No? See, vote carried.

[Scar has submitted file ‘Im Resigning’]

[Grian has submitted file ‘I’m Resigning HARDER’]

[Scar has submitted file ‘No your not’]

[Last 3 requests have been denied]

SUPERVISOR: How on earth do you work with them?

[Grian has submitted file ‘Turbo Resignation Letter’]

IMPULSE: Oh, me and Skizz have got a knack for it, sir. You just have to let them work it out. Or shut one of them up for the ghost to get.

[Last 1 request has been denied]

SUPERVISOR: Boys, this is sounding like a really dangerous situation and I think you should get out of there. I’m calling a retreat.

SKIZZ: Gimme the mirror, I’ll try saying the ghost’s name.

SUPERVISOR: Did you hear me? Is this thing on? Saying the name is EXPLICITLY the one thing that is unsafe to do on missions!

GRIAN: Huh. Maybe we should have read the manual.

SKIZZ: Just let me do it, sir, we get results.  

SUPERVISOR: Are you four always like this?

IMPULSE: Oh, no. Usually these missions go much worse.

SUPERVISOR: No! No, nobody is looking in any cursed mirrors! I have eighty successful mission supervisions under my belt—

SCAR: Sounds uncomfortable.

SUPERVISOR: Our department has a clean record of no agent deaths—

GRIAN: Oh damn, I knew I should have submitted our reports.

SUPERVISOR: And I—What reports?

IMPULSE: Don’t tell him about the reports!

SUPERVISOR: Is this data right? You haven’t sent in a report in… five YEARS?

GRIAN: One thing and another, you know.

SUPERVISOR: No! Enough! You are the WORST team I have ever worked with and every practice you have is UNSAFE and I bet one of you is looking in the cursed mirror RIGHT NOW—

[crackle]

[crackle]

GRIAN: Scar’s dead again.

SUPERVISOR: [calming breath] Okay, you lot clearly have your jokes, like last time, but I need you to know that’s not funny.

GRIAN: I can get a picture of how he ragdolled. His head’s on backwards. It’s hilarious.

[Grian has submitted photo file lol.jpg]

SUPERVISOR: … That … that is a man who has been killed by a malevolent spirit! That spirit is deadly!

SKIZZ: Funny, the ones they send us on are always deadly.

IMPULSE: Get him back to the van.

SUPERVISOR: LEAVE IMMEDIATELY! I AM CALLING AN AMBULANCE!

IMPULSE: You don’t need to do that—

GRIAN: Hey! Dots! I just saw dots!

SKIZZ: Yes! Mark off dots!

IMPULSE: Sweet, we’ve got it! It’s a White Lady! Let’s go, guys!

SUPERVISOR: Is anyone listening? Is anyone listening to me?

[crackle]

SUPERVISOR: Come in. Come in.

SUPERVISOR: I know you’re driving back. Answer your goddamn radio.

SCAR: Well, hello there.

SUPERVISOR: This is very serious. I have to report Agent Scar’s death—Agent Scar? Is that you?

SCAR: The one, the only!

SUPERVISOR: You were dead!

SCAR: Oh, yeah, but then they brought me into the van and we left.

SUPERVISOR: How—what—

SCAR: I dunno, ask Impulse! I’m usually dead by this point.

SUPERVISOR: Agent Impulse! How!

IMPULSE: Me and Skizz have been doing this a long time, sir. Guess we’ve just got a knack.

SUPERVISOR: A knack for—a knack for—I’m going to get a drink.

SCAR: Toast our great success. Hey, hey, Grian, that’s my hot dog. I died for that hot dog!

GRIAN: You weren’t looking! Finder’s keepers!

IMPULSE: Careful of the wheel, guys, careful of the wheel—

SUPERVISOR: I’m never working with your team again!

SKIZZ: Yeah? I get ya, buddy. See you next week.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

For 🍯 anon! I accidentally deleted the last draft so this is a quick draft of what I remember! So sorry! 😢

Credit to the comment I saw somewhere that called Jason “kitty-coded”

—

Time Written - 10:10 p.m

—

No other thought came to mind except going back home to his sweetheart, who was in the kitchen from what his exhausted mind could comprehend, cooking up something with a wonderfully delicious aroma of toasty bacon.

His hidden face plastered over a decorative pillow seconds after he dropped lifelessly onto the couch, nearly making the furniture squeak from sudden weight shift. Arms splayed out carelessly from his sides, legs awkwardly draped off along the armrest of the couch he barely fit on, due to the bulkiness of his armor.

He just looked like a sad, red lumpy potato. Barely having an ounce of strength to move so much as a finger.

The urge to make this your phone background was incredible.

“Y’know how tempting it is to pile ontop of you right now?” You call from your amused stance from the kitchen, knowing he had gotten home from the ever so familiar whirr of the living room window being yanked open by a careless vigilante.

“Try it, babe. I’ll roll over an’ make you regret it.”

If the bubbling pot on the stove was just a tad bit louder, you’d have barely heard an ounce of what Jason had said. Wiping your hands with a random kitchen towel, you approach the now slanted couch, smiling at the exhausted bulk of a man cascaded over it, nearly taking up all the space.

You shimmy yourself to sit in the most awkward way possible. Jason had enough upper strength to lift up his head and shoulders, raising his head off the pillow to unclasp his mask from his face.

The same hand carelessly tosses the pillow aside before he shuffles closer, proceeding to let his head drop on your warm thighs with a groan of heavy appreciation.

Your soft giggle warms his heart, making him feel fuzzy with a highschool crush’s giddy embarrassment. You two were together, yet you always made him feel this way.

“Fucking cold out there.” He murmurs into your lap, amusing you as you settle your fingers through his hair after pulling down his hood. Those soft, perfect little fingers worked magic along his damp locks, nails lightly scratching against the back of his scalp.

Dogs had it lucky with their owners, receiving heavenly treatment such as this.

“I’m making soup.” You say to him, smoothing down his hair after tussling small locks all in different directions.

“What kind?” Came his muffled grunt of a question.

“Potato soup.”

Irony never sounded so sweet.

“Loaded, with extra cheese.”

“You’re a goddamn angel,” Jason sighs, knowing he’ll enjoy your cooking in the comfort of a warm sweatshirt and your loving arms, after a graciously hot shower consisting of him standing under ridiculously hot water for ten minutes, rinsing off soap he borrowed from your shower rack.

“What would you do without me?” You lightly rouse his hair into a weak, limp Mohawk of sorts, unable to see his hidden smirk against your soft, flannel pajama pants.

He’d probably die again, for all he knew.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: Terminal Illness, Angst to Fluff, Solo Leveling Spoilers ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 2 || Part 1 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ We'll Try This Again, Begin Again with Zero. But This Time? I'm Never Letting You Go. ] ¡! ❞

Living felt more like a punishment more than anything. The pain he goes through starts feeling more and more deserving in his eyes. He was pushing himself to the limits when he shouldn't, he's punishing himself over a sin that wasn't really his fault.

But if anyone tells him that, he wouldn't look back at them. He would ignore their concerns.

He has a duty to uphold anyway, a duty that only he can do as a monarch.

Jinwoo has ultimately grown to be a vessel of war thanks to the system.

He didn't really care much, he already placed insurance to his name if anything happens to him.

When he's gone, his remaining family would atleast live off of something.

He has already watched his father die too thanks to the godforsaken monarchs.

What more can he loose?

Over and over again, he puts himself in the battlefield, exhausting himself on purpose, never even sleeping nor eating.

He was just fighting like a dog.

Well, dog's get much more care than what he does to himself, so does it really count?

It doesn't matte,r Jinwoo physically cannot be exhausted.

But mentally? It's a different story.

He wasn't really depressed, at least, that's what he tells himself.

He really felt numb, not exactly sad, not exactly happy either. It's as if his emotions lie in the middle.

Jinwoo felt hollow, completely hollow.

As if he were merely nothing more than a puppet in war.

The only thing that really urges him to move forward is the distant sound of his beloved's voice in the back of his head.

And soon, after he had finally murdered the Monarch of Destruction— He would be granted a wish.

Battered and tired while on the floor, he thought of what he could possibly ask from the rulers.

Thought of?

No, Jinwoo already knew what he wanted.

It was to turn back time.

To meet old friends again, to stop the gates from opening, to have his family whole again

,... To meet you again.

Yes. That's right. All of this was for you anyway.

Jinwoo recalls that memory very clearly, how you were still in the hospital bed and you two were playing a game of cards while he tells you about how he plans to be a hunter soon.

Your words were quite cute really: "I hope Woowoo becomes a really strong man!"

Those silly, innocent words of yours.

Up to this day, he still smiles lovingly whenever he remembers that.

He became this strong not just for himself and his family who needs him, but for you, the brave little soul who endured that illness—

Jinwoo fought for you

And since he is given the opportunity to correct the past, he requiested for time to be rewinded.

Right then and there, a brilliant flash of white would engulf the earth, bathing it in all it's glory. eradicating all traces of the lifeforms and shadows there is to this pathetic universe. For once in a million years, the earth was beautiful again. It looked like a star gleaming along with countless others.

Soon, Jinwoo would wake up to the sound of his baby sister's calling. Jinwoo would sit up, gently smiling at her.

It took a while for everything to sink in, for everything for him to realize that this? All of this was reality.

How badly he wanted to find you in the time he spent, for just a few weeks, he enjoyed being a child again.

Laughing with friends, screaming at others for a vanguard or healer in the pc cafe— He wanted to find you in an instant. But not right now.

He took care of some stuff first.

Your illness wont awaken until then after all.

27 years, he spent time in that goddamn dimensional crack fighting monarchs and all that crap.

When he was done, he finally came home.

Just as he set foot back in earth again, he went straight to the hospital.

April 9th of spring, where the pink petals bloomed and flew around the air— This beautiful but tragic day.

Was the first time you had collapsed and coughed out blood.

It started with your lungs, to your kidneys, to your heart, to everywhere.

You had metastatic cancer.

Coughing up blood was only the start.

And Jinwoo had come home just in time.

He didn't even ask for directions, he just went straight to your hospital room.

He knew this godforsaken place better than the doctors and nurses himself after all.

As he pried open the door, there you were, resting on the bed staring absentmindedly at the pink trees outside your window. When yopu heard the sound of the door, you turned your attention to Jinwoo.

Dazzling and innocent eyes, just as he remembers. Your youthful face, free of any sign of wrinkles. Still chubby and plump that he wanted to just kiss your cheeks all over.

As you called out his name, Jinwoo marched over and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry, it took me a while" Jinwoo whispers ever so lovingly as he rubs the b ack of your head affectionately.

You were confused at first, wondering why your best friend is acting all cuddly and sappy when he totally did not disappear off of the face of the earth and come out of nowhere like some sort of boogey man. But regardless, you can't help but notice the traces of tears about to break from lovely grey eyes.

When you reached over to touch his face, his voice broke and he started crying almost instantly.

Panicked and confused, you pulled him to a tight hug.

Jinwoo was crying, and in his tears and broken voice you could hear the amount of anguish he had been bottling up, the brokenness in his heart finally being revealed in the open for you to hear and see. It felt as if Jinwoo was carrying a hundred years worth of burden. And you could do nothing more than to soothe him.

"I'm sorry... Ditching you out of nowhere and acting like a sappy pup wo got kicked" He chokes as he chuckles gently, "I promise, promise, that I won't leave you like that anymore. Just trust me, okay? Here, drink this."

He hands you a weird fantasy-potion thing with red liquid inside. You wanted to deny him of it but Jinwoo stubbornly insisted upon it, as if your life depended on it.

Well, tehnically speaking, it did depended on that potion.

After making sure you gulped down every single drop of the crimson liquid, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours.

Mumbling ever so sweetly; "Let's do this again, okay? You and me, goofing around. I'll let you eat as much sweets as you like, I'll show a lot of pretty things. Don't worry about anything else, Woowoo will take care of it."

Somehow, you felt that Jinwoo meant that on a deeper level. You felt like right now, what in front of you wasn't just anyone else, but someone ready to lay down their life for your sake. The person in front of you, you felt as if he was going to follow you to the ends of the earth to the stars above your heads. Somehow, it feels as if his words was a promise that he would follow you wherever you go.

He already lost you once, damned will he be if that happens again.

[lovebugism]

how about "are you comfortable?" with stevie and he's just being really needy with reader

✶ ┄ PUPPY !

summary: steve isn't just needy, he's downright insatiable, and he'll take you any way you’ll let him. pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 1.5k warnings: sub steve always needs his own warning, dry humping, r calls steve "puppy" once (spoiler alert: he likes it), smut 18+ a/n: thanks for your request, anon, and for giving me more oppurtunities to write sub!stevie <3

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

Steve Harrington was a sweetheart — the sweetest of sweethearts.

All boyfriends were supposed to be nice, but he was perfect and then some. He’s made of marshmallow fluff, all gooey and saccharine. He loves you so much that it’s got him dripping honey.

It’s sweet. He’s sweet. But sometimes all of his mushy goodness is suffocating.

He’s always needing you. It’s like if he’s not touching you, he might die. Most of the time, it’s purely innocent — a hand on your back to keep you close, an arm around your shoulder to press you into him, fingers spread on your thigh to keep you tethered to him. 

But there’s always another side of that coin, a far dirtier side, that has him rutting up against you like a damn dog.

Freshly showered and winding down for the night, you lie in the middle of your shared bed on your stomach while you flip through a too big novel.

Steve watches you from the doorway. His step stutters when he catches sight of you. It leaves him frozen where he stands. 

Your underwear isn’t anything special, a cotton number he’s seen about a thousand times before, that leaves more of your ass covered than not. Your tank top is possibly older and decorated with a number of dubious stains you've never been able to get out.

And it's not like you’re in the sexiest of positions either, posed in wait for his arrival. It's quite the opposite really. You’re lazing and in your own world, totally sucked into the book you’re reading.

He might've been offended that you didn’t wait for him to come around so you could read to him like you always do, if he weren’t so incredibly hard at the sight of you.

Steve isn’t quite sure how someone could be doing something so mundane, at their most comfortable and more at peace than he’d ever seen, and still be so goddamn beautiful.

It’s just not fair.

He clamors on top of you without saying a word. He presses his nose to your neck, sprinkling tiny kisses onto your skin, while he grinds his hard cock into your ass.

His sweatpants-covered hips drag into you all slow — the feeling makes him exhale sharply in the place of a low moan. Chill bumps erupt at your skin, at the feeling of his warm breath fanning across your shoulder, and the gratification of your boy finding you so irresistible.

It’d be too easy, to roll over and let him take you like he wants. You don’t give in so freely. You rarely ever do. Instead, you take to teasing him, mocking him, because you know he likes that just as much as you simply giving yourself to him. 

“Are you comfortable?” you monotone as he rests the bulk of his weight on you.

“C’mon, baby, please,” he all but begs. “I’ll even take a handjob, I just— fuck, you don’t know how hard I am right now.”

“I think I have an idea,” you scoff out a laugh and flip the page, trying your best to ignore the throbbing cock he presses against your ass. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“I just love you,” he mumbles into your neck, punctuating his admission with a kiss.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm…”

You laugh softly to yourself, several exhales through your nose, at the way he ruts into you all needy.

His cock is still prevalent through the thin layers both of you wear, warm and so incredibly hard. You still feel so much of him despite the fabric that separates you. You can tell he went without underwear for the night. It makes the raging hard-on he has for you, that much more prevalent.

It makes you wonder if it hurts. If the stiffness brings about a throbbing and ravenous ache.

“Flattery goes a long way with me, Harrington,” you purr.

You feel his smile contort against the skin of your neck, all proud of himself because he thinks he’s gotten you to concede. “Yeah?” he mumbles before pressing another wet kiss to your shoulder.

“Yep,” you assure. You turn your neck to look at him over your shoulder and it forces him to leave the refuge of you. He’s lit up with anticipation. You’ve got a playful glint in your eye that excites him. “So you can do whatever you want—”

“I like the sound of that.”

“—But you have to keep your pants on.”

His hips still. The smirk on his face washes away like an ebbing tide. His face contorts into a look of confusion — bushy brows furrowed, nose scrunched, and lips quirked. “…What?”

“I’m gonna let you come,” you shrug.

“But I have to… keep my pants on?”

“Yes, Stevie,” you affirm, almost stern as you arch a brow at him. “Do you understand?”

He swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, then nods with wide, twinkling eyes. “Yeah,” he mumbles before clearing his throat. “I understand.” 

When he humps his cock into your ass again, it takes little time for him to pick up the pace. He was needy before, heavy with his want for you, but now he’s downright desperate. He grinds his hips into you, holding himself up on his forearm — next to the elbow that props up your chin — while he lets out pitiful little whines into your skin. 

He might not be pleasuring you just now, but a similar feeling swirls in the pit of your stomach. You’ll always feel satisfied when he begs for you.

“Fuck, honey, you feel so good,” he murmurs, breathless. “Love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I’m almost done with this chapter. If you’re not finished by the time I’m done, you’ll have to get yourself off, ‘kay?” you warn with a voice that’s far too sweet. You know he’ll be done by the time you’re finished reading. Besides, it’s not like any of the words are sticking in your head, anyway.

But Steve likes a challenge. Give him a time constraint and an obstacle he has to get over, and he’s golden. Your subtle threat, the way you act like you’re not as into it all as he is — like your panties aren’t soaking wet — just makes him need to come more.

“I’m almost there, baby,” he promises under his breath. “I’m almost there— almost there—”

He mumbles it to himself over and over again as pleasure takes over every fucking lobe of his brain. His free hand tightens its grip on your clothed hip, keeping you nice and still for him while he pathetically ruts his weeping, throbbing cock into you.

His wet, pink lips part to let out every heavy breath and low moan. You wish you could see him right now — the glazed look in his honey-tinted eyes before they squeeze shut tight as his orgasm so quickly approaches.

You know that he’s close by the way his hips stutter against you, like he’s fighting to keep his rhythm as his impending orgasm threatens to take control of his body. His sweats go damp and sticky when several loads of come spit from his cock without much warning.

A whine escapes from the depths of his throat and he leans more of his weight against you, still warm and comforting as heavy as he is. His heaving moans are heaven in your ears and stars against your skin.

Steve stays like that, pressed so fully against you, while pathetic whines spill from his mouth. Even on the comedown of his orgasm, just having you so close makes him feel high.

His head is stuck in the clouds until he hears you laughing. Soft, hearty little giggles spill from your mouths — muffled at first like he’s stuck underwater, until he comes back to reality.

Then he’s laughing right along with you, lazy exhales at how good he feels just now.

You shift under him, silently asking for him to roll off of you, and he abides — still so obedient for you. You sit up on your side as he flops onto his back. Your eyes have a hard time leaving his fucked out face, all flushed and glowing red, to catch that darker gray stain at his crotch. Both sights are equally as beautiful. You don’t know which to gape at.

“Was it worth it?” you ask him with an arched brow.

“Every damn second,” he pants with a sloppy grin.

“Good,” you smile back at him, pressing a too innocent peck to his warmed, freckled cheek. “Now go get cleaned up. You’re a fucking mess, babe.”

Steve eyes flit from your face to the wet spot spreading on his gray sweatpants. He’s embarrassed, almost, feeling like a teenager who’s got the stamina of a goldfish. But he’s more so terrified of leaving this room.

To get to the bathroom, he’ll have to walk by Robin and Eddie’s rooms, and he’d rather die than run into them in a pair of come-stained pants.

“How am I supposed to walk out like this?” he wonders, bewildered.

You shrug in response. “You’re the one who made the mess. You figure it out, puppy,” you tease innocently, though you don’t miss the way Steve briefly perks up at the use of the pet name. The feeling of anticipation swims in your stomach all over again.

[jazeswhbhaven]

Maybe I want Him to Bite...(Lucifer Selfie Card Prologue React III) *Spoilers*

You know the drill lovelies...back it up to part 2 if this is the first part you're seeing!! ->

From there you can be linked back to Part 1 if you haven't read that first either. If you've read both, yay you made it to the final part! Let's goooo (༎ຶꈊ༎ຶ╬)

Alright so let's see what' this goofy ahh bitch did...

We done broke all the rules up in here and I'm-

Good LORD he looks like that????

I was startled because I'm like oh no boo you gonna have to warn me before you pull a "jeff the killer, creepypasta, the rake, smile dog" on me. /j

LMAO I can hear this even though MC doesn't have a set voice.

And everyone else was silent asf like not saying a goddamn thing. Even Gamigin who's usually loud as fuck was saying nothing. LMAO

Yes MC, you did. All in order too like? XD Even though this is some shit I'd do personally, I would also be like "Oh damn I didn't die??"

And Lucifer was like "What are you talking about?" and MC was panicking trying to get an answer from the nobles being like hello????? but silently and Marbas and Morax hit em' with the-

"Ah so staring at him and touch his snake doesn't do anything. Got it."

This would have been me.

Because what do you mean?????? YOU HAD RULES AND WAS JUST THROWING MC OUT THERE WITHOUT CONFIRMATION????

This is why I have trust issues. Lol

So it turns out Lucifer was reacting the way he was out of being startled, not because he was going to end someone's life. But I think we all know what he looks like when he actually is out here in murder mode. The event was clear in that regard.

So Lucifer calms down the snake on his clothing, and MC comes up to also touch it out of curiosity. So this tells us, the snake doesn't really cause any harm per say...but I'm sure it does something more so give Lucifer the power to do something.

Snake boi

MC apologizes and well Lucifer doesn't really understand why for a moment (he does laugh at the action though mostly from amusement). But MC lets it be known that they are apologizing to the snake and him.

WAIT WAIT WAIT "Child of Adam?????" AYO? I need more lore about why he said that, which I can only guess why he said that. (and honestly, now I'm thinking of Adam from Hazbin Hotel lmao)

But I mean, this statement just shows he's a least learning to observe MC for their own personality. Not Solomon's.

MC is confused tho, but Lucifer is like "You're amusing"

ANd then????

HE BITE?????

HE BITEEE

h e

b i t e

Stop. Why is this so hot?

HES SO GODDAMN HOT????? BITE ME SOME MORE????!?!?!?!

SO AFTER HE BITES MC HE ORDERS THEM TO TOUCH HIM?

And this is where I was freaking out on that post. Because I had a headcanon I didn't share here, that because of Lucifer's power he could basically order you to do whatever and you'd have to carry that out.

i.e. If he said you aren't allowed to touch yourself ever unless I give you permission, that means no matter how horny you are you can't get off or do anything until he says so and that brings in a whole new kind of foreplay/dominance type thing where literally his word is to be followed. But at the same time....there could be loopholes if you're smart enough to figure them out and want to be a brat.

Whoever gets his card and unlocks the rest of the story?? I'll be waiting patiently.

Okay, so I'm gonna say that from this prologue alone, his selfie card is possibly the best selfie story out of the 5 kings. I was vibin' with Mammon's but this one rightchea? Phew. Mostly because I wanna see how Luci gets down and it already seems like his venom is some kind of aphrodisiac. Because sheesh MC was getting worked up and horny quite immediately from being bitten and you know what?

I wonder if you can extract the venom and have it applied to foods for the same effect...(Don't tell Bimet he'd capitalize on that shit)

But man. I told you all that once his card released I'd probably stop caring about Juno and transition over and well that happened. (still gonna do the reader fic though)

It's funny also that I did this prologue faster than I did his event which I STILL have yet to post about. lol

But as always lovelies, I thank you for sticking through my crazy reacts

-your lovely admin ♥( ˆ⌣ ˆԅ)

[buttercup12233]

Alastor is such a Gary stu that wants everybody to know that he's "sCaRy" because he can have black eyes and red pupils, turn big, and shoot out tentacles. Like bro. That's not creepy. And most of his lines fucking suck. How does he know about modern slang? Didn't this guy die during the great fucking depression? Not to mention, this guy swears a whole lot. It would've been perfect if the only time he ever swore was when his staff got broken apart. That would've really shocked the audience. I wouldn't mind him saying "fuck" a few times, but when that shit becomes a common thing, that's a problem. Swearing wasn't common in the 1900's. So why is Alastor using it on a daily basis. He no longer stands out from the cast. He's just another edge lord. He says the most corniest lines too like omg everytime he says ONE embarrassing word, I have to pause from watching the show bc the guy gives me second hand embarrassment. He's trying so hard to be terrifying that it's not working. For some reason, Alastor just wants power.... I'm not sure if it was planned from the start, but the execution is dog shit in my opinion. Pilot Alastor was done better than this. The reason why pilot Alastor was so creepy and overall an amazing character, at least in my opinion, was because you didn't really know exactly how he was feeling, or what was going on inside his head. The whole point of him volunteering to 'help' Charlie run the hotel was that he could see sinners fail and give himself some entertainment. He even flat out admits it in the pilot. But then you just have that gut feeling that there's something more going on with Alastor. That he's probably planning something else than just finding entertainment. Let the 'him wanting power' be like a b plot if THAT was the case (explain why he even wants power too bc if he just WANTS it for the sake of it, then that's boring). And I think what was the most exciting thing about his character, was that he was mysterious. Notice how the only times he EVER used his power or lost his cool was when Angel Dust claimed that he could suck his dick, or when Sir Pentious interrupted his song and threatened to literally hurt him. I swear, this guy used his title as the radio demon for times when it was appropriate. That's what I loved about Pilot Al. He wasn't trying to be creepy unless it was needed. In this show, he desperately wants people to fear him. He even tries to pick a fight with everybody, even the ones who are kind to him. He's a complete asshole and a dickhead. And I'm just like "boo, fucking corny, bitch". Idk, man. It's pro just me. But I hate Alastor so goddamn fucking much. At least in the show. He gives me headaches, he's a Gary stu, and I can't believe this mf got away with talking trash to the KING OF HELL like holy SHIT. Why didn't his ass get humbled at the moment there? He just got freewill the whole time during season one without consequences. Besides Adam tearing his ass up.

Alastor is just so- ugh.

I beg for you guys to let me know if some of my points were invalid. I would actively listen to them. I was just in rage the whole entire time while writing this, so my mind was just clouded with 'wtf happened to the cool guy I once loved' and just...RAAAAAH. so please don't hesitate to speak out. I'm aware that not EVERYBODY will agree with what I say. But it's great to hear y'all's opinions about this. Thank you.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Stirrings in the Junkyard

Summary: A one-shot set during season 2. Eddie was hanging out in the junkyard when he caught sight of a side of Steve Harrington that no one had ever seen before, and it caused quite a stir in Eddie's secret romantic heart. Also, with a side of monsters.

Eddie was just minding his own business, really. Here he was, late at night, sitting in a junked out old car that he turned into a little fort. Wayne's trailer was occupied tonight. . .their trailer was occupied tonight. He was still getting used to calling it that since he moved in a few months or so ago. Well, officially anyway, he's lived there on and off the last few years since he was eight. It wasn't until his goddamn house burned down due to his own stupid decision-making skills and his father's that he had to move in with Wayne. Not that he was complaining. He loved Wayne. He just missed that house sometimes, the house his mom had picked out herself. He sighed and tried to get the image of his mother's records going up in smoke out of his head and focused on the book he was reading under a flashlight. That's when he heard it, the sound of hushed voices and something. . . something growling.

Shit, was the junkyard occupied by someone else tonight? Eddie sighed and rolled his eyes. He finally found a perfect place to escape to, and someone else was here. God, was it someone doing something sketchy. . .like maybe a drug deal. Eddie snorted. He was the one to talk, considering he had just started selling drugs to help pay the bills. Shit, did he have competition? No, these sounded like kid's voices, and someone was yelling for a guy named Steve. Eddie peered through the broken door frame from the back seat of the car. His eyes widened when he saw what was next to the very car that he was in. At first, he thought that it was a fucked up looking dog but there was no way that this creature belonged here on Earth. There was just no fucking way.

Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from yelling out. One sound and he was done for. The creature was black with long, gangly looking limbs. It walked on all four of them, so it was an easy mistake to make, thinking it was a dog. It had no face. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. How did it eat? Oh God, he didn't want to find out. That's when he saw him, out of the corner of his eye. Steve Harrington. He stood in front of the bus like a guardian or a knight, a nail studded baseball bat in his hand and wielding it like a sword. He could see kids' faces peeking out and calling for him. Steve was protecting them. He was a gallant handsome knight, protecting his young charges. He's more like a paladin, really, Eddie thought. Wait, handsome? He must have let out a wimper because suddenly, the creature was trying to get into the car.

"Shit!" Eddie cursed as he backed away from the window and pressed himself up against the other door.

Suddenly, the creature's non face opened up to a giant flowery shaped mouth with thousands of rows of teeth. He was going fucking die. . .or so he thought. A moment later, he saw more creatures approach Steve, and Eddie watched for a moment as Steve took a swing at one, hitting it with everything he had. Eddie couldn't stop watching the swing of his hips. The creature growled and moved away from the window. It joined the others in their fight against Steve. Eddie couldn't stop watching the way he moved. The man was breathtaking, a word he never used to describe a man before, but it was accurate. The word belonged to Steve, and now, suddenly, Eddie could see what so many of the girls were saying about him. He was utterly gorgeous. Yep, Eddie Munson had a crush on a boy. Goddamnit, those stupid jocks were right. He wasn't straight. He wasn't gay either though.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered.

Suddenly, the creatures ran off like they were called away, and for whatever reason, Eddie still couldn't stop watching Steve. Okay, he knew about his crush and the things that go bump in the night, Eddie could look away now. He was in awe of Steve Harrington, though, completely enamored, and he couldn't look away. He watched as Steve ran his hands through his hair, and Eddie's eyes followed his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Eddie licked his own. Steve’s side was turned to him so he could see his profile pretty well in the moonlight. Eddie's eyes followed past his hair and down the curvature of his back. He liked the way his back curved, and Eddie could image running his hands down it until they rested against the small of his back. . .maybe even cupping his well-rounded ass. Holy shit, you could probably bounce a nickel off that thing. That's when he realized he was being watched. Steve’s eyes were on his or were they? He couldn't see him, right? Steve started moving toward the car. Shit.

"Steve, come on, they're heading toward the lab!" A boy shrieked.

"I thought I saw - Nevermind! Wait for me, you little shitheads!" Steve yelled.

Eddie sunk low and laid down against the seat. He pressed a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart. He shut his eyes tight, hoping that it had all been a dream. He wasn't sure when he had drifted off to sleep, but when he had opened his eyes again, sunlight was peaking through the window. Shit! Eddie sat up and quickly climbed out of the car. Wayne was going to be worried. He hopped in his van and drove off. When he got back to the trailer, Wayne was waiting for him out on the couch out front. It was earlier than he thought it was. The sun hadn't quite woken all the way up yet. Eddie plopped down next to him on the couch.

"Your friend leave?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah. You fall asleep in the car again?" Wayne asked.

"Yep," Eddie said, his leg shaking.

"You know, you don't have to keep doing that. Going to the junkyard," Wayne said.

"It's fine. I loved it there," Eddie said.

"You look a little pale there. Is everything okay?" Wayne asked.

Eddie looked at him and debated on whether or not he should tell him. Knowing his uncle and his conspiracy theories, he knew he would believe him if he said anything. It was best to keep it quiet.

"You ever ran away from something because people were telling you that's who you are, and they acted like it was a bad thing, but really, you didn't want them to be right because of your own stupid fears?" Eddie asked.

"Tried to run away from being a Munson when I was younger," Wayne shrugged. "But then I realized it wasn't just my daddy who shared the name but my mama too. She chose to be a Munson even after everything he put us through and even after he died. I ain't ashamed of it no more because you're one too, and I'm happy to share it with you, too."

"The crazy thing is, is that I never thought that it was a bad thing, I just ran away from it, and I don't know why," Eddie said.

"Looking into a mirror and being aware you're looking at yourself can be an unsettling thing. It's hard to open up to people and even harder to open up to yourself," Wayne said. "You want to tell me what this is all about, son?"

"I like women, but I also like. . . ," Eddie said and suddenly pictured his own dad walking out of his life, giving him pause. ". . . I also like men."

He was leaning forward, sitting on the very edge of the couch and trying his hardest not to look at Wayne. Suddenly, he was pulled back, and Wayne was hugging him tightly to his chest.

"You're my boy, and ain't nothing going to change that," Wayne said. "I love you, kid."

"I love you, too," Eddie sniffled as Wayne kissed the top of his head, and Eddie pulled back.

"Besides, you really thought the friend that I invited over here last night was a woman?" Wayne asked.

"You're - "

"Gay. Always have been," Wayne said.

"You never said," Eddie said.

"You never asked. I never asked you either. I figured you would come to me when you were ready," Wayne said.

Eddie sighed, grinning, and leaned back. He sank lower into the couch and rested his head on Wayne's shoulder like he used to do. They watched the sun wake all the way up, shining down over the trailer park as though it was letting them know that everything was going to be okay. For a moment, Eddie believed in the sun, and then he remembered the creatures in the junkyard. The image of the teeth chowing down on Uncle Wayne popped into his head. He couldn't stop the shudder from coming. He wouldn't let anything happen to him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure there isn't anything else that you want to talk about?"

"I'm good, Uncle Wayne. I'm all good."

He had been hoping to talk to Steve that very day at school, but he wasn't there that day, nor was he there the following day. The next time he saw him was on Monday, and it looked like someone had done a number on his face. He managed to get him alone when Eddie himself was also going to the bathroom. He had spotted Steve going in first. He waited a moment before following him in there. Steve hadn't noticed him at all, struggling with the lid of a Tylenol bottle. Eddie made sure no one else was in the stalls before locking the bathroom. He swiped the bottle from Steve’s hand and hopped up on the bathroom counter.

"Those are not going to help you," Eddie said.

"And how do you know what's going to help me, Dr. Munson?" Steve scoffed.

"I've been called worse," Eddie said, cackling. "I don't know if you've heard about what I've been doing lately - "

"Selling weed," Steve said.

"Yes, that," Eddie said. "It's going to help you a lot more than these things will."

"I don't have a whole lot of money on me," Steve said, looking embarrassed.

Eddie tilted his head, studying him. He looked weak, pathetic, and sad like the bruises weren't the only things that were hurting him. He was curious about the bruises and it won out.

"What happened to your face, man?" Eddie asked.

"I don't really want to talk about it," Steve winced.

Eddie could tell that he meant that. He wanted so badly to tell Steve about what he had witnessed in the junkyard, but he could see it in his eyes that whatever he went through, he didn't want to talk about it. Maybe another day.

"Okay. Do you still want the weed then?" Eddie asked.

"I told you, I don't have a lot of money on me," Steve said.

"I don't want your money," Eddie said softly.

"What?" Steve asked.

Eddie couldn't believe what he was saying next. He couldn't believe how brave he was being considering that Steve could punch his lights out. Maybe he was just being stupid.

"A kiss," Eddie said.

"A kiss?" Steve asked. "From. . .?"

"You."

"Right. On the cheek or. . .?"

Eddie puckered his lips at him, and Steve swallowed. Oh, this was stupid. Steve was going to kill him. Suddenly, though, Steve was moving closer to Eddie and spreading his legs apart before stepping in between them. Steve grabbed Eddie's legs and slid him closer, very roughly. Eddie wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder as the sudden movement, grabbing the back of his jacket. Steve’s face was very close to his, his lips hovering over Eddie's lips.

"I'm not doing this for the weed," he whispered.

And then Steve was kissing him, like actually kissing him. It was like out of a goddamn romance novel, the kinds that Eddie always denies reading when people ask him, the kind that he was reading in the car in the junkyard. He gasped, his mouth opening when he realized he had left his book in the junkyard. Like he always does, he put his name on the inside cover. Steve slipped his tongue in his mouth, and suddenly, every thought fell out of his head. Eddie moved his other hand into his hair, his legs squeezing his hips as he moaned. Steve cupped the back of his head, his large hand cradling him so gently. Suddenly, Eddie became very aware that the hands holding him so delicately, so softly, were man hands. The lips that were on his were a guy's. Eddie broke the kiss with a gasp, feeling very overwhelmed.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, cupping his cheek.

"Yeah, I just - ," Eddie trailed off.

"This is your first time kissing a guy?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to guess that it's not the first time for you," Eddie said.

"Yeah," Steve said.

"I'm sorry, I only just figured out that I like guys, and I thought I was ready, especially when I saw you, but I don't think I'm quite there yet. Sorry, if - " Eddie babbled.

"Eddie," Steve said softly, his thumb stroking his cheekbone. "It's okay. Take your time. Breathe."

Eddie inhaled and slowly exhaled, leaning his face into Steve’s soft touch.

"Thank you," Eddie whispered.

"Take your time, man. When you're ready, come and find me," Steve said. "I'm in the big book."

"The bible?!" Eddie exclaimed.

Okay, yeah, that kiss turned his brain into oatmeal. Goddamnit.

"The phonebook," Steve laughed and grabbed the Tylenol bottle from Eddie. "You're right, I don't need this. I feel much better."

He kissed the tip of Eddie's nose, and he walked out of the room with a spring in his step. Eddie eyes were glued to his backside the entire time he walked away. He ended up leaning so far forward that he fell off the counter and onto the floor. Eddie flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Oh, I am in trouble," Eddie said.

It was a statement he repeated a couple of years later, when Chrissy Cunningham died in his trailer and he was hiding out in Reefer Rick's boathouse. He never expected him to show up, and he certainly never expected to see him after Eddie pushed himself away after Eddie distanced himself like a coward that he is. Eddie didn't deny himself after that kiss. He even went up to Indianapolis and discovered the term for himself. Eddie Munson was a full-blown bisexual. He wasn't afraid of that anymore. No, it was the fear of actually getting close to someone in an intimate manner of letting his guard down that kept him at bay. He had hoped that Steve somehow knew. As Eddie pushed him up against the wall of that boathouse, he could see it in Steve's eyes. Steve knew. He cupped Eddie's face and brushed his thumb against his cheekbone.

"It's okay, take your time, breathe. It's okay, Eddie," Steve said softly.

Eddie whimpered, leaned into his touch, and dropped the beer bottle. He buried his face into Steve’s neck. He broke down sobbing as Steve wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just ran," Eddie sobbed.

After that, everything happened so fast. They barely had time to talk except for that little moment in the woods in the Upside Down, where they admitted that they had been jealous of each other's relationship with Dustin. God, he really did love that little dude, and yeah, every time Dustin brought up Steve’s name, he had been a little jealous, but he had also felt guilty about not going to Steve. That one stupid kiss felt so perfect but also final, and it was like he realized he was never going to have a first kiss ever again. They had barely interacted, but when Eddie saw Steve swinging that bat in the junkyard and protecting those kids, he had known in that moment that this guy was it for him. God, did that scare the shit out of him, so he ran away.

"Hey," a magical voice sang to him.

White lights floated above him, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. There's no way in hell. . .

"Am I in fucking Heaven? Who in their right mind would let me through the gate? Oh my God! What's that obnoxious beeping sound? Someone get your fucking food, man," Eddie groaned and then he blinked more clearly to find that Steve was sitting by his bedside. "Yeah, I am in Heaven. There's a fucking angel sitting beside me."

Steve grinned and blushed. Eddie heard giggling coming from somewhere. He looked around and groaned. He was in a goddamn hospital and surrounded by his uncle as well as the members of the party.

"Don't be embarrassed, son. That's not the worst thing you ever said," Wayne told him. "I could tell everyone about the time you got your appendix out, and you told the nurse - "

"Nothing! I told her nothing!" Eddie exclaimed.

"It's good to see you're awake, Eddie," Nancy said as she started to push everyone out of the room.

"Um, okay, I guess I'm not as interesting now that you guys can no longer watch me sleep," Eddie said.

"We're giving you some time, son," Wayne said.

"Time for what?" Eddie asked with wide eyes. "Time for what, Uncle Wayne?!"

He didn't answer, just followed everyone out of the room, leaving Eddie alone with Steve.

"This isn't the first time you woke up, you know," Steve said.

"It's not?" Eddie asked.

"No, you were still pretty out of it. You kept apologizing to me about waiting too long, then something how when you saw me swinging that bat in the junkyard protecting the kids, that you knew I was it for you," Steve blushed. "And you said it scared the shit out of you which, I totally get."

"You do?" Eddie said.

"Do you think that you're the first person who ever ran away from big scary feelings? You're not. I mean, why do you think that I didn't chase after you? I had just gotten dumped, I was still hurting pretty bad, and suddenly, the guy that I've been crushing on since freshman year wanted to kiss me. I pushed you away too because when I kissed you, I knew you were it for me too," Steve said. "It was easier to run than to risk getting hurt again. I think I'm ready to take that risk, if you are."

"Yeah," Eddie said, grinning when Steve took his hand and kissed it.

"So, I guess you never went back to that junkyard after that because when I went there, I found this," Steve grinned.

He pulled out a book from his pocket and wiggled it in front of Eddie. It was his romance novel. With his name writing on the inside cover.

"Oh, no," Eddie said.

"Oh, yes, Eddie Munson likes romance novels," Steve grinned. "Apparently, he has a type, too. You know that guy on the cover looks awfully familiar. I think I've seen a guy like him in the mirror a time or too. I've got better hair, though."

"Goddamnit, how do you make being a bitch look so sexy?" Eddie muttered.

"It's a God-given talent, baby," Steve winked. "Now, let's crack open this bad boy because you're in luck, I happen to love romance novels too, and I haven't read this one yet."

With one hand, he held the book, and the other he held Eddie's. Eddie, meanwhile, gazed lovingly at him as he listened to him read. Steve paused for a moment before pulling out a pair of glasses from his pocket and slipping it onto his face. Oh God. He has glasses. Yep, Eddie Munson was completely gone for this man. Time of Love - wait, there's no fucking clock in this room. Goddamnit. Time is a funny thing. One minute, you're just minding your own business, and the next thing you know, you have got the best thing that ever happened to you reading by your hospital bed. Time, what a mischievous bitch.

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Idk if anyone else shares this opinion but what they did to toothless’s personality (let alone how they changed his design…) in the third movie was just… so dumb.

He acts like a stupid, horny dog for a majority of the movie, and in ninety percent of the scenes the light fury is in. He doesn’t have the natural, catlike personality he had in the first two movies; and the writers of the third movie’s reasoning for it is because he’s been “domesticated”… like all domesticated animals all act like… overgrown dogs. When none of the other dragons that the Vikings have act anything like toothless.

Why the fuck would an animal that is supposed to be known for its INTELLIGENCE act anything like THIS

Simply because it has been around humans???

And before you yell at me about dogs being like that; modern dog breeds are a far shot from their ancestors. In some cases, dogs like toy breeds have been bred over generations to be nothing but PETS. They do not serve a logistical function, and as such they are very dumb in comparison to other animals.

And even then, I know from experience- an animal like toothless- who shows a wild, more feral and catlike personality is not going to randomly start displaying traits where it acts like a completely different animal because they’ve been “domesticated”. Which they haven’t. Domestication takes years upon years of selective breeding. Toothless has been living in human captivity because for the longest time, he had a disability- and he STILL DOES- that would cause him to be unable to be rereleased into the wild because he is unable to fend for his goddamn self. (Once his prosthetic tail fin breaks HE IS DEAD.)

Wildlife rehabilitation doesn’t work the way httyd3 is trying to portray it does. Realistically, toothless would never have been rereleased back into the wild simply because the person felt that dragons needed to hide. Toothless would eventually die because he did not have someone to care for his tail fin.

I’m sorry this went on for so long… but httyd 3 did literally every single character so damn dirty.

[ohnonononononono567]

Bit by Bit - Simon "Ghost" Riley x m!reader (mostly angsty)

Continuation of Games btw (Here you go @aliciamorov bro, i gotchu)

"I love you."

"I don't want to love you."

A sentiment he heard from some highschool girlfriend he had for two weeks. Back when love meant skipping your shift at the arcade to buy them Mickey D's. 

Back when love was finding peace from your crap father and the butcher shop wouldn't let you pick up more shifts. 

He had said it stupidly. In her bed, having done nothing more than drink a beer stolen from her father and his lips swollen from her insistent biting while they made out. Her giggling filling the room, always had a sense of humor that one.

Sitting next to her, hands interlaced, his words slipped out. When she hissed out her reply, he felt a chill run up his spine. Never a fan of snakes.

She liked him nonetheless. She wasn't heartless. But she'd leave for a bloke going to the same college as her next week anyways.

After enlisting, he learned why he was wrong to say what he had said.

Love was strong. And he was weak. He was weak for the way you laughed, for the way your face scrunched up in the morning. He was weak when he yelled at you. He was a weak man. It was shitty to let a girl he can't even bother to remember the name of linger in his mind. But it kept at his brain every second of the day.

When he allowed a thing—No, a person—a person like you into the cracked parts of his being, you filled it with gold. Bit, by bit. You didn't "fix" him. You weren't a psychiatrist picking at his brain and trying to poke and understand why his mindset was "toxic" and "self destructive." You just made him see the beauty he always gloated about.

He wasn't ugly, far from it, but he saw that gnawing pit growing inside him as the ugliest part of him. And that was what was disgusting. It was a part of him.

Yet a man like you never saw him as disgusting. You never saw the chill of 300 bugs crawling inside your skin begging to acknowledge you're a piece of shit on this earth. 

You saw a man, in distress.

You didn't tell him to toughen up. You never even touched him if he didn't allow it. 

Simon always told himself he'd never allow another man make him feel weak like his father did. It's why he'd find himself fidgeting at your door, wondering if it's even worth it to walk in with those flowers he'd know you'd die for. 

But when you open that door, staring at him, and that goddamn dog jumps to meet him, those thoughts leave.

He wants to love you. He wants to be the one to carry the privilege of loving you. But he's weak. And you'll learn to seek better. You're a tough man, and life will fall onto you. 

And in his weakness, he'll be unable to carry the burden of hurting you by leaving. So he'll tell himself he's not loving you. 

He'll allow you to give him that squeeze in the airport before he leaves. He'll tell you that you'll always be his man. That all his happiness lies with you. He wants it to be true. He knows you'd never want to love him. So he'll protect himself. Internally he'll tell himself he's not in love with the bubbly man who stands in front of him, with their lips connecting.

You see every part of him. And you know he'll realize it's love. He feels what you feel, maybe even stronger.

Bit by bit, he'll realize it.

I DONT WRITE AND I WROTE THIS WHILE IM SAD PWEASE BE NICE :(( (Edit: nobody told me writing #[blank] wasnt the same as tagging your posts i thought i was shadow banned lol)

[myths-tournaments]

Awful Characters Round 4 (2/4)

Propaganda under the cut!

BENNY

The first thing that happens in new vegas is that benny fucking shoots your character in the face, steals your shit and leaves you in an open grave. Benny is by all accounts a bastard. He kills you, steals from you, he killed his last boss, he is the single most duplicitous man around. His gang are all about honesty- except him. He's a lying, cheating bastard. The guys who helped him catch you? He skipped on paying them and left them to get shot to death. His new boss, mr.house? He stole his robot, broke it open, got someone to reprogram it and decided to use it to TAKE OVER THE WHOLE OF VEGAS. Benny literally kills people, lies to people, steals their shit and takes charge. That's all benny does. He gets fucking CRUCIFIED if you don't help him out just because so many people fucking hate him. And yet. And yet. Benny is the single most compelling character in the whole game to me. He's just a little guy! He's just there! You can get shot in the head and come back and he goes "what in the goddamn" and then if you try and flirt with him he's like "uhhh sure? Okay?" And leaves you a polite note in the morning. He's fancy. He wears a stupid suit. He has a tiny gun with shitty bullets. He's catholic. He talks like an old timey news presenter. Literally nobody else in the entire game does that. He's got an intelligence of 3. He's my funtime boy. My silly little man. He's so funny. The antagonist in this game is a guy dressed like a tablecloth who looks at all times like a confused dog who doesn't understand what a tv is. And like. He's compelling. He robs from you, shoots you, but…. he never seems to actually wish you harm. He kills and robs and lies but like. He apologises for doing it to you. When he sees you again he doesn't attack you, he's just… confused. He tries to defuse the situation. You can convince him to talk to you, alone, with no guards and it's not that hard. If you spare his life, he doesn't go after you, like. Even if you sleep with him he doesn't take advantage of that and kill you, even if you try to. He… he just leaves. He gives you an apology. If he gets kidnapped by Caesar He just… apologizes again. He tells you his whole plan to take over the city, too. He thinks he'll die, and he wants something of him to survive. He's happy that you made it. And if you let him free, he just… leaves. He knows he's beat, he doesn't want to cause any more trouble. He walks out and leaves. The NCR will kill you if you cross them. The legion will crucify you. House? He'll blow you the fuck up. But benny, the guy who lies and cheats and schemes, he's honest. He's polite. He's… harmless. You can kill him with a single shot if you want. And he can't kill you. He doesn't kill you the first time, and he'll never really hurt you again. Benny just wanted to win. When he knows he's beat he just leaves. No lingering, no harm, he's off, off into the desert heat, and never seen again. Isn't that just insane? like have you ever known an antagonist so polite? He just leaves!! He offers you a drink!! His plan is genuinely probably the best one for the people of new vegas!!! He's. Benny is Benny. Anyway if you want to see some REAL propaganda go to the blog letmebegaytodd and look in the #benny tag. You'll Understand < https://www.tumblr.com/letmebegaytodd/717051175751614464/in-another-life-i-wouldve-really-liked-just> <- look at this shit man

AZULA

Azula explicitly considers herself a monster. She says needlessly cruel things to her brother and friends. She kills the show's twelve-year-old protagonist and masterminds the idea of burning down the entire Earth Kingdom to force them to submit to Fire Nation rule. I have absolutely seen people get called abuse apologists for thinking she's a cool character. But she's also a (canonically) mentally ill fourteen-year-old who was raised by her father to see her ability to be weaponized as her only value. Her mother, arguably the only adult in her life who could have had a positive impact, had a strained relationship with her because she was more difficult than her brother, and then disappeared when she was nine. Her uncle, who was her brother's main healthy role model, took absolutely no interest in her. She watched her father belittle her brother for years and eventually throw him away when he failed to meet his expectations, so that was a threat she was always facing. She really had no chance. And she also has moments that suggest she wants some sort of meaningful connection with another person. She lets her brother take credit for killing the Avatar so he can come back from exile, even though it means she'll be bumped back in the order of succession and offers him advice that seems genuine. Her spiral into a mental breakdown starts when her friends betray her. She's just a much more interesting and multifaceted than a lot of the fandom gives her credit for.

[ourflagmeansdemise]

Just saw a physically disabled OFMD fan making a post claiming that Izzy Hands's death wasn't at all ableist, and that everyone claiming that it is must be able bodied and I want to be fucking sick. They said not to argue with them in the comments or reblogs, so I won't.. I'll make my own goddamn post. Let's talk about it. We were shown a man losing his limb. Attempting to end his life in the aftermath of that loss. Surviving. Even if he never asked for it. Spiraling into depression and alcoholism and self loathing. LITERALLY CRAWLING ON THE GROUND. Before he's given new purpose- A new leg, a new place in the world! We see him learning how to accept and live with his disability, and for a short blissful time we had representation of how life can go on! Of how we can recover against the odds! Of how life is worth living even if our bodies fail us! We get to see the whole crew working together to show Izzy that he was still worth loving, worth helping without making him feel weak or useless, worth making their figurehead! The spirit of the ship!! Something meant to protect them! Guess what! I watched all of that as a physically disabled OFMD fan, myself! I saw that, and I felt so strongly about it- Because before the finale, this season had given me one of the most powerful representations of disability I had ever seen and it resonated so strongly with me, as someone who struggles with my own sense of self worth due to the limitations of my own body.. I watched every time Fang or another member of the crew physically held Izzy up or supported him in some way. I watched him wear his queerness openly and sing his heart out to the crew that love him.. I watched him get just a taste of the life he could have lived, as someone valued by his community, even despite everything he'd lost.. And I watched him die. It was cheap, and it was rushed. Pointless. They killed him, and no one said anything at his grave. Except that he was a fucking nightmare. They buried Izzy, a lifelong sailor, in their yard like a dog instead of giving him a burial at sea... And they REMOVED HIS PROSTHETIC LEG FROM HIS CORPSE, to use as a headstone. Stripping him of his dignity. Of his role as the figurehead. Of the love that he was given by his crew.. Everything that stupid fucking horse leg represented was taken from him. Watching that finale left me gutted. For days all I could do was cry. Everything that they gave, and subsequently stole from Izzy Hands, they gave and stole from me as a disabled person- And I CANNOT be the only physically disabled OFMD fan to have been devastated by this loss. In fact, I KNOW I'm not, because I watched this season alongside my partner who is also disabled, and I held his hand in mine so tightly throughout the last episode that it hurt by the end of it. Then we cried ourselves to sleep, after. Now I get to read posts on tumblr.com saying that Izzy Hands's death was not ableist, and if I think it was that I'm some able bodied idiot using disabled people as an excuse to be mad about a character's death.

[booigi-boi]

Would love to know your favorite Joey character (also love the way your draw him)

Aw, thank you 🥺🐐🐇💛🤍

But my fav Joey character? Yeah, I guess I can turn this into a mini show and tell, lol 👍

From Starkid: Ted Spankoffski, which is kinda obvious. Is he a terrible person who deserves the title of "Most deaths in the Hatchetfield series"? Absolutely. Is he still my blorbo? Absolutely 👨🐐

This man has no shame and I love seeing him die anytime he appears in a HF story ✨

From Tin Can Bros: Scrags, but mostly because I am unable to rewatch SAF more than once a year, cause it gives me such slaps in my face after act 2 starts that I am emotionally unable to watch it (/pos ofc, I just can't go through sleepless nights over gay spies anymore 🥲)

So sorry Owen lovers, I just like this depressed dog dad more (Especially after the Grunch, go watch it 🐕❄)

From Shipwrecked: Easily Ernest Hemingway, no debating, lol. Funnily it's mostly cause I love his costuming/design, like this brown on brown on brown is really speaking to the artist in me, ugh 🔪🤎🥃

(Also, I own the jacket, and Joey said it's cool I own something he wore and get to make look cool again, but it's so goddamn big on my 5 foot self,,,,,,)

✨Honorable mentions✨

Sergio's design from the SAF Kickstarter, just look at this boy, peak villain Joey design 💣💼

Dash Gunfire, who I've named most of my plushies after and have a crack theory about 🐇🤍🐇🤍 (He and Agent Curt Mega are related. No I won't elaborate, iykyk)

Tripp, the Brom's Babe who is definitely the most dramatic of the three 💞 (Also, I love these three in general??? Let them be gay and do crime and be probably terrible wing men to Brom) (Someone also ask me about all the headcanons I have about them, there's a lot)

Dracula Joey

I JUST LOVE ANYTHING DRACULA RELATED, OK?? ESPECIALLY IF IT'S RELATED TO THE BOOK! IDC IF HE ONLY APPEARED FOR 3 SECONDS, HE'S A REAL CHARACTER TO ME ❤🖤🧛‍♂️🥀