#no excuse for any of it idc

[bloodraven55]

it should honestly be illegal to look at someone as softly as marcille looks at falin 😭

[aprilias]

I love/hate all of the discourse around the booing because yes I agree it’s absolutely terrible and the fact that it’s always the same rider that gets booed even in the beautiful moments (see the win last week), but today seems to be the first time I’ve ever actually heard a media company address that the root cause of it is because one man can’t get over a decade old beef that was completely of his own making.

Would it seriously hurt him to tell them to stop being disrespectful and stop booing because even if they didn’t listen, he’s made that effort and can sit back and say “well I tried” but no. It upsets everybody - the leading rider of the academy hates it, Marc and Alex obviously hates it, Nadia said that she hates it and it really took the shine off what should’ve been such a great tribute to Fausto last weekend.

It’s hilarious because I’ve never heard anyone speak negatively about Valentino’s beef against Marc but today TNT have more or less said he needs to get over it (lol) which he does, or just say something. But he won’t. Cause he’s had 10 years almost to say anything but hasn’t.

[junicult]

contains ; entirely fluff! sfw! budding relationship. fem!farmer. sam teaches u how to skateboard <33. drabble.

note ; it breaks my heart that it doesn’t seem obvious sam is one of my favs. i need the world to know.

a new farmer moving into town didn’t mean much to a few neighborhood ears.

there was chatter about how eager the older residents were to meeting the person who would clean up the old farm. people were interested in seeing a new face, but it wasn’t like anyone was pleading for it.

overall, everyone was a little bit surprised when the new farmer happened to be a pleasant, youthful woman taking her grandfathers old cottage.

especially with how eager you were to introduce yourself.

spending the majority of your days wandering around town, trying to catch any new face and at least learn enough about them to be use it as an excuse to see them again.

it might’ve been viewed as a bit irresponsible at first, especially to some. this was the person who was trying to fix up the old farm?

it seemed like a waste. but you were sweet enough that it was only a passing observation to a few.

which is probably why it came as a shock when you’d be seen in the weirdest of places—crawling from the mines covered in soot and rock, lugging large fish around in the smallest backpack, eating seemingly inedible items found off the ground.

and although you started to become quiet chatter to the town, you didn’t seem to care. maybe you didn’t even notice.

you were a nice sight to a few, at least.

sam liked you pretty quickly. he’ll like anyone if they’re kind to him, that’s for sure.

you were special though. the first time you met, it was beyond comprehension to step outside of his room and see a stranger laughing with his mom and little brother in his kitchen.

“oh, sam, this is the new farmer. this is my son, sam.” jodi so kindly introduced for you, catching the blonde in a bit of a shock so soon after he woke up.

and despite that short interaction, you’d still go out of your way to say hello any chance you had.

“what kind of fish is that?” sam called as he approached you calmly, finding you at the river on his way home from work.

you turn, a little startled from the sudden voice that caused you to flinch, losing your grip, and send said fish back into the river out of your hands.

your shoulders slouch while your eyes following it, swimming down the stream, a little frown on your cheeks that enabled his quick apology.

“oh! i didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles for just a second, “i’m sorry, i owe you a fish!”

you face the blonde who approached your side, shaking your head. “you owe me a sunfish, actually.” you give a small smile, “good quality too. lost some precious gold on that bad boy.”

“then i really owe you a sunfish.” he rubs the back of his neck with a laugh. “sorry about that, though.”

“it’s fine. i’m super tired anyways, and it wasn’t that good of a sunfish.” you sigh, bringing yourself to your feet and reaching for your bag you left resting beside you, slipping it over your shoulder.

your eyes glance to the man beside you, a quick once over and the question falls from your lips, “what’re you wearing?”

he looks down at his shirt like he doesn’t remember, before he perks up. “oh! this is my work shirt—i work at jojamart.”

“oh really?”

“mhm! just finished, actually.”

“what do you do there?”

he straightens his posture just a little, keeping eye contact on you with the same boyish grin on his cheeks. “i’m a janitor, usually.”

“ah, so you’re good at cleaning?” you hum.

he laughs. “my mom might disagree.”

his reply earns a small laugh from you, one that makes his smile only grow after hearing.

after which you shoot off a couple goodbyes, turning around to head back through cindersap to make your way home. he’s still smiling after he manages to sidestep his mom’s curiosity, the fleeting interaction on his mind just a bit longer.

and the next few days were full of the same quick interactions; all of which he was looking forward to more and more.

you were always doing something, he would always ask a question about it, and it’d move on from there.

quick, but enjoyable. might’ve even started to become his favorite part of the day.

“you can skateboard?”

the familiar call of your soft voice, slightly raised only to catch his attention quicker made him around in surprise.

just by chance, he happened to be mid-failed kick-flip.

it felt like deja vu when you tease, “oo, maybe not.”

“you caught me at a bad attempt!” he justifies, painting the grin you’ve become acquainted with when he pauses to face you.

you came walking from the forest beside his house, catching him in the middle of his hobby, asking him a question instead of the other way around.

your backpack characteristically rests on your shoulders, large and full just as similarly. it’s almost distracting just how heavy it always looks, but still, you’re rarely seen without it.

he keeps his foot resting on the board just so it doesn’t roll away, yet his attention was now entirely focused on you.

“and for your information, i can skateboard.” he boasts properly, in a way that doesn’t scream douchey, only deserving.

you click your tongue, approaching him. “i dunno…from the looks of it, it seems you don’t really know what you’re doing…”

his jaw drops, feigning offense. “if you’re so good, why don’t you give it a try then!”

he picks up his shoe, taking a step back as if to say, “prove it.”

your eyes flicker to the board, mouth twitching as you formed the words to counter, only to then just stop when you realize you definitely can’t prove it.

your hesitance did nothing to falter sam’s inevitable smile. instead, it turned into a faint smirk, and a short chuckle that lead his arms crossing over his chest.

“you can’t skateboard?” he says more so then asks.

his words could sound condescending, but there’s nothing rude in the tone he uses to speak to you. in fact, it’s all just genuine curiosity.

“…maybe. who’s to say i have the time to learn?” you shrug, pursing your lips.

he unravels his arms, stepping over his board once again to slide it back in front of him.

“well, do you?” he word-vomits.

no. you don’t. you have an actual job that requires a lot of attention, and time-management. you’re lugging around a backpack full of supplies that probably need to be given to someone before their shop closes, yet here he is asking if you can spare just a few extra minutes of your day to stand on his skateboard, of all things.

it’s only when you give him a look that causes his smile to falter. it’s a short one, one he can’t read, yet it somehow gives him enough time to feel his heart drop just a few inches, and enough time for the nevermind to form on his tongue and nearly fall out before—

“alright, why not?”

he could sigh of relief when you slide the bag down your arms, dropping it just a couple feet away.

“but i gotta know i’m in safe hands, first. do a trick or something.” you easily ask as a joke, but he doesn’t take it as such.

he’s already prepared to hop on the board. the tip of his foot presses against the back, pausing for a moment before he quickly bends his knees, and jumps a couple feet in the air, the board following just under his feet before he lands within seconds.

and by the time he does, he’s grinning like he accomplished something huge, opening his arms in a silent, “ta-da!” manor.

you laugh. “alright, i shouldn’t of doubted you.”

“that’s right! you’re in the safest of hands, that’s for sure.” he takes a step off, leaving the board vacant just for you.

it’s obvious you’re only a little bit nervous; and frankly, that upsets you a tad.

why? you’re not sure. you explore caves like it’s nothing, kill monsters like it’s a regular day. falling off a little skateboard won’t do much besides a little bruise on your butt, or scrape on your knee.

yet you look down at the board like you’re intimidated by it. like it has the ability to purposely knock you off, make you look like a fool in front of the guy you spend a bit too much time thinking about.

“don’t worry, you won’t fall. i promise, i won’t let that happen.” he sweetly reassures, almost like he can read your mind.

you glance into his eyes, scanning for sincerity despite knowing it was already there.

you take one step closer, close enough that you’re both nearly sandwiching the board on the ground.

you can blame it on instinct—because it actually was—when your arms reach out for him to latch onto.

he can do the same when his hands grip the undersides of your forearms, using minimal strength to ensure your safety. both of your eyes fall to your shoes, waiting for you to raise your leg and press against the board.

it takes you just another few seconds to lift your stabilizing foot off the concrete, instantly tightening his hold on you.

you start to wobble, and the height plus the instability makes it easy for you to latch onto him too.

“you’re okay! see, it’s not too bad!” he continues to reassure.

despite your gaze never leaving your feet, he’s finding his focus to be glued to your face.

whether he’s scanning for any sign that you’re uncomfortable, or using that as an excuse to look at you so up close, his gaze remains soft and understanding.

“do you want to try to move?”

you nod, silently scanning the concrete for any minor obstructions that could potentially get in your way, clog the wheel, and send you flying.

he takes one small step to the side, appropriately accustomed to your liking, and because of your solid grips on one another, that short step has you moving with him.

“why can’t i stand still?” you frown, almost sounding annoyed at yourself.

“because your feet are too close together. you gotta balance on the weight of the board. like this,” he demonstrates by showing you exactly what you should be doing, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach when you hold on even tighter (like that was possible) to recreate his exact stance.

you start to grin when his advice works.

“see, there you go. you wanna move a little further?”

you nod almost instantly, the elation of how well this is progressing for you making you eager.

he repeats the same action as before; this time taking a few more steps to the side to drag you along—each of which you let out a noise of excitement.

your grip calmly loosens the further he walks you, while his does nothing to falter. he picks his speed up when you show a bit more confidence, and slows down when you show hesitation.

he works with how you’re feeling, even if you don’t say anything. and although you’re silent, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“you think i can let go?” he asks softly, glancing up at you.

instantaneously, your eyes widen in fear nearly the same second you feel bold enough to nod your head.

“okay, you’ll be fine. i’ll still be here.”

there’s something so shocking at how gently he speaks to you. it’s peaceful, his tone perfect to calm and ease you, like he’s done this before.

which shouldn’t be such a surprise. sam’s a sweet guy, who clearly cares for the people around him. you’ve spent enough fleeting moments together to know that already, plus how much jodi will talk your ear off about him. vincent too. it was one of the first things you noticed about him.

he’s so delicate when he takes a step back, slowly removing his hands from your arms, even after you nervously clutch him for just a fleeting second.

and when he’s fully let you go, you turn into a deer in headlights, frozen on the board that’s ever so slightly rolling to the side.

his stifled laugh makes you purse your lips, glaring over at him.

“see, you’re a natural!”

you both know he’s lying.

“how do i move?”

“you have to kick your feet.”

you don’t do that. instead, you reach both hands to the side, and grip the air like you’re tugging on a rope, moving one inch forward.

and even then you lose your balance just a tad, unattractively allowing your arms to flail forward like you’re begging for him to hold onto you again before you fall.

the laugh he lets out falls louder then before, sounding more like a wheeze as he emphasizes, “it’s okay, i got you, i got you,” while your nails dig into the fabric of his jacket.

“what do you mean kick my feet?!”

he’s still laughing, “you have to drop one foot off, push against the ground and hop back on.”

it sounds easy enough, but for some reason the simplest task makes your eyes widen, jaw fall ajar like he just offended you personally.

he takes a second to explain it, slower this time. his patience was another thing that’s adding a little tally of interest in your mind.

you carefully step off when he offers to show you, making room for him to hop on almost like it was second nature, kick against the concrete, and skillfully swings back into place while he glides like he’s showing off.

he does the same thing to bring the board back over to you.

“easy peasy. anyone can do it!”

you slouch, pursing the tiny frown on your cheeks once you realized it was showing.

you reach out just like before, waiting for him to help, which he does. you align your feet just like before, waiting a few moments before you give him a nod that tells him he can let go. even though he’s not holding onto you, he still keeps his hands out so they’re easy to reach just in case.

your trial and error only takes a couple tries, both of which ended with you nervously hopping off before you could hurt yourself, despite sam’s watchful eye and the fact that he’d never let that happen.

but by your third attempt, blood flowing with determination, you take a slow deep breath like you’re preparing for an important race.

you give yourself one short push off the ground, swinging your leg just like he taught you back onto the board while you slide across the ground.

before you even stopped, your eyes lit up, an immediate smile widening on your cheeks at the realization that you finally did it.

“you’re a pro!” sam loudly cheers, clearly just as ecstatic as you.

both of your reactions match up—squealing before you even hop off the board, throwing your arms up triumphantly.

you didn’t even go very far, less then 10 feet away. but he’s still jogging towards you like you won an olympic gold metal.

“told you you could do it, what did i say?” the way he animatedly moves his arms makes you laugh.

and maybe he was reaching his hand out for a simple, measly high-five, but you fall further then that.

still giggling, grinning till your cheeks ache in pain, your arms swing around his neck.

yet he didn’t even hesitate to wrap his own around your torso.

you hardly did anything. you hardly moved. you’ve only been learning for about fifteen minutes. it’s not like you deserve this much praise, but there’s no way he would agree.

his constant expressions of how proud he was fell straight to your heart, because you knew he meant it.

it takes another moment before you pull away, allowing your plump cheeks to be his main focus.

“that was really fun. i need to get back to work though, clint’s closes in less then an hour.” you sigh, shooting a short glance over the blonde’s shoulder to check your if your bag had somehow disappeared.

“i’m glad you spared some time.”

“me too. maybe next time you can teach me that little trick you did.”

his eyes follow as you walk towards your backpack, reaching down to once again slot it over your shoulders as usual.

his plump, flush cheeks widen.

“looking forward to it.”

[shoutascoffeepot]

im not hating im just saying if you didn’t like aizawa in his natural state of scruffiness and hair down and only liked him when he shaved and put his hair up neatly, yall dont deserve it.

[ph7soy]

you know which one

[infamous-if]

O kay okay okayaoakayasysayas Since Rowan isn't going to be a LI can we please get his POV reaction (deep crush stage) of MC going over to him to tell him that MC is in love with one of the other ROs? Pleasee I need the angst and I love Rowan and am sad we won't be able to romance him!!

I was listening to favorite crime and kind of went a bit overboard. Please excuse this lengthy and angsty-ish drabble. Aha.... 🤒 ill keep it short next time

The soft notes of Rowan's guitar--affectionally dubbed 'Betty'--rises above his head, filling the silence of his hotel room. He strums aimlessly, absently, his fingers having a mind of their own as they move, creating a random melody that's oddly soothing. Or maybe it's the very essence of his guitar--he always feels more grounded, centered, with Betty in his hands.

Rowan's gaze remains unfocused as he plays, his head tilted, legs crossed on the balcony that overlooks the sleepy streets of their latest tour stop. A soft, pleasantly warm wind curls around the messy strands of his hair, locks sweeping across his forehead like a caressing hand. As the melody takes hold, going from mindless practice to something that sounds like it can be the bones of a real song, he closes his eyes.

Rowan has never been a good singer, but you don't need to be a good singer to make people feel something. He's learned that from the best of them.

I wonder if MC would like this.

The thought of his best friend makes a low groan sound in his throat, and with a huff he pauses the recording of his phone. Suddenly Betty's romantic notes feel like a taunt, a blade to his heart with every reminder of what he and MC are not. They're not together. They're not anything more than friends.

They're not what he wants them to be.

He knows he shouldn't feel this way about them. They're friends. They've been friends since he still thought fart jokes were funny and he had no bass in his voice. That's all they've always been and all they will be: friends.

The word has never sounded so terrible.

Still. If only...

His phone buzzes with a text and he sets Betty down. That blade in his heart only twists when he sees who it's from.

Of course. Did my thinking manifest them? The thought induces both a laugh and a sharp hint of misery from him.

He reads the text: Open your door.

He turns his upper-body to face his door, bursting up once the realization flows through him. He glances at himself in the mirror on his way there, making sure his pajamas are at least semi-presentable. It's MC; they've seen him in worst states, but level of comfortability changes when you want someone to see you in ways they've never seen you before.

In other words, he needs to look good.

Rowan heaves a breath before swinging open the door, remembering to keep the easy smile on his face. MC still looks good even at twelve a.m. after an entire day on the road. It's almost unfair.

"Heyyyy." He grins, trying to appear light. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

MC rolls their eyes. "You're not busy, are you?" They lean over to peek behind Rowan's shoulder, their eyes settling on an abandoned Betty. "Working on something?"

"Nah." He scratches his neck, self-concious. "Just fooling around. What, you need to talk about something?"

MC pushes past Rowan's shoulder to breeze inside, throwing themselves on the bed with a huff. "Iris and Devyn are out and I need to talk to someone."

Rowan takes a seat next to them, snorting. "So I'm the third choice?Wow."

They prop themselves up on their elbows, strands of hair falling in front of their face. Rowan has the terrible urge to lean over and push them away. "You're not exactly the 'serious talk' kind of person."

"Serious talk?" He gapes. "Yes, I am! I'm capable of being serious, you know. I'm not an asshole."

With a laugh, MC rolls over on their stomach and groans into Rowan's pillow. Now his curiosity is officially piqued. What could have MC so...like this?

"What's up?" Rowan's following laugh is both nervous and amused. "Did something happen with Seven?" Seven and MC have been a bit...all over the place since the beginning of the tour. He hardly knows what to call it. "Or did Orion lecture you again?" Orion is another one. That man has been relentless since tour started.

MC shoots him a look before sitting up, copying Rowan's position. His eyes flicker down to where their knees touch, to the proximity that's gone from the size of the bed to none at all.

They've been close like this before. No, scratch that. They've been closer, but this is different. This is different because everything is different.

"You know you're my best friend, right?" MC says, putting their hands on Rowan's.

He clears his throat, the skin under theirs burning with their touch. "Yeah...?"

"And we can tell each other everything?"

"Yeah." He quirks a brow at them, trying to stifle their humor. "Are you dying? Please don't tell me you're dying. You haven't even gotten rich yet to leave me anything in your will."

MC laughs but it comes out a bit uncertain. High-pitched. Rowan knows them. The same way he knows Iris and Devyn. He knows all of them like the back of his hand. So it only takes him another second to realize it.

MC is nervous.

His heart does a weird somersault in his gut.

"I have a secrettttt," MC sing-songs. Even as a joke they still manage to sing with perfect pitch.

The four words are enough to shake his very world, but he manages an eye roll. "Fucking hell, we're not twelve. Just spit it out."

"Sorry." MC palms their face, a nervous laugh escaping them. God. This must be serious for MC to be nervous in front of him? Rowan has never really gave anyone the impression of a harsh judge. Hell, he's always been an open book. "I just...I'm in love with [RO]."

He wished he didn't rush them. He wished he didn't hear those words at all. He's half tempted to grab it from the air and shove it back into MC's mouth so they can pretend it never happened.

"What?" is all the fuzz in his brain can spit out.

MC throws their self back, a wildly breathless laugh escaping them. The sound is even better than Betty's notes. "WHEW. That felt good to say it. Is anyone hot in here? I know I am."

MC keeps babbling but all Rowan could hear is a white noise in his head. MC is in love with RO. MC is in love with them.

MC is in love with someone that's not him.

"I just needed to let that out." MC huffs, gazing around the room. "You should invite me next time you play. You know I like seeing you finger Betty."

Rowan can't even laugh at the dirty inside joke they've had between them since he bought Betty years ago. It suddenly makes him feel wholly small and largely ridiculous: Rowan will never be the person for MC. He will always be the goofy best friend that makes stupid, childish jokes about fingering his dumbass guitar and the one MC goes to when Devyn and Iris aren't available.

He's not even the second choice. He's the fucking fourth.

As if noticing the change in atmosphere, MC awkwardly purses their lips and says, "I should probably get back to my room and get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

He blinks, managing a small nod. "Uh-huh." He runs a hand through his hair, feeling naked without his hat. "Right."

They stand and shoot Rowan a final look. "Thank you," they say after. a moment, "for being my friend."

He's really starting to hate that word.

But he smiles anyway. "Yeah. Ditto."

MC grins, spinning on the heel of their foot to leave the room. Rowan follows, waving lamely at them and watching as they disappear down the hall, whistling a merry tune. It's true; it does feel like a weight was lifted of their shoulders. They walk with a hop in their step. Rowan hates knowing it was RO that is responsible for that.

With a sigh he closes the door, leaning his forward against it. Spinning on his shoulder, he looks up at the ceiling.

"I need to get laid," he mumbles.

Though he has a feeling that won't do much to solve the problem in his heart.

[calic0o]

I didn’t call any names but its Ghost x Soap !! I just.. don’t expect anything normal from me its either toxic or angst .

Cw// Toxic relationships!!

They fell back into place, thats how it worked.

They always fell back right into the shape. They fit perfectly to each other. It was like they were created by holy hands with such diligence and dedication that they were like puzzle pieces fit together. Puzzle pieces that made an entire puzzle complete.

But oh dear, the edges were sharp. The edges of the pieces were sharp, and more they held onto each other, more deeper they cut. Into themselves and to each other.

They would fight, a lot.

Not with shouting words, or violence. No.

They hit each other where they know would hurt the best. They spit out harsh words, bring out old habits, sorrows and remorses. The energy around them changes, the sweet, light eyes turn dark , filled with hatred. They look at each other like enemies.

An enemy who holds your heart. An enemy who knows your deepest, darkest secrets. An enemy so dangerous.

But it would never last long. They are too sickly in love for that. It doesn’t last long before something happens and they both forget about it. The darkness of the stares, glares and harsh words would get all forgotten. That’s just the way they are.

They always fell right back into place.

[fantasymindpalace]

me when a female character does something bad: she is allowed to be complex and imperfect. women don’t have to act the way you want them to. i love messy morally grey girls. she’s not bad she’s just misunderstood.

me when a male character does something bad: he’s fucking canceled. he’s done

[crunchworldsupreme]

Happy valentiens day I made cards because this is my third favorite yearly tradition. I am not responsible for anything that does or does not happen as a result of my incredible valentines day cards which you should send to people you know tomorrow

[a-shadowedvales]

so… in the additional media of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” in this case, eleven.

eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. boring and predictable. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth. i thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this timeline, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, brenner had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry creel canon, and keep him as 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

due to her saving brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. she happened to be there. saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) brenner constantly thanks her. but in a very condescending way. tells her: “you saved me so i can continue saving you.” aka, harness your abilities and see what else i can achieve from you. despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. that she owes him something further.

i don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. it makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

it also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. they would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. as far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with benny, i'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. where she followed the boys home without thought.

also it's important to note that after time, jane does understand that peter ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from terry) who wanted the best for her. when she remembers him, knows that brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. he was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. this is another catalyst as to why after season two, jane never refers to brenner as papa. she does not give him that sort of credit.

[lovegrowsart]

calling a lesbian showrunner predatory because she put some sexual implications into her star wars show is out of line queerphobic btw like genuinely think about what you're implying/invoking if you're gonna criticise her or her creative decisions....

[pinacoladamatata]

the way some people are acting about larian saying "no bg4 from us and no dlc" you would think they killed the bg3 characters where they stand and made it so you can't play bg3 anymore

[mawu-yama]

happy white day or something. LEVYFOX DATE

[crossedwithblue]

You're a Mansfield Park fan?

Yes!

IDK if you intended it as such but I am going to take this as a license to ramble about MP on main.

I think the thing about MP is that people (especially people who aren't as quite intense about JA than I am lmao, or who have only read P&P before) often come to it expecting a light-bright-and-sparkling romance like P&P, and are surprised when that isn't the case. Hell, I felt like that too on the first read, because the pop-culture perception of JA is that she was a romance writer first and foremost - but the romantic happy-ever-after is shoehorned into a few paragraphs on the last page or two, and not even shown on the page. MP isn't a romance novel at all - I have minimal English lit knowledge outside of JA, but I'd class it as more of a bildungsroman, maybe? Or a predecessor to those modern Literary Novels all about objectively nasty people being nasty to each other? (More on this in a min) I would very much welcome corrections from people who do know what they're talking about, though!

To me, JA isn't actually a romance writer most of the time. She wrote really good romances because she was really good at characterisation and at understanding and describing how personalities interact to form relationships, and romance is just one type of relationship. It's just the one that pop culture tends to focus on when it comes to JA (I mostly blame Georgette Heyer but of course there's an essay to be written on that too). The only JA novels I'd describe as true romances are P&P, of course, and Persuasion - the rest have romance as just one among many other dynamics as a supporting or side plot, or a tool to reveal characterisation, rather than being the main focus.

Fanny is also a very passive narrator who tends to be acted upon rather than acting herself, which tends to irritate people, but MUCH more on that in a minute.

I think MP is in some ways sort of... cruel. It's certainly the most openly incisive and potentially upsetting, with depictions of complex abusive/toxic family dynamics that could probably come straight out of a domestic/familial abuse/neglect resource. The point where I started to enjoy MP was when someone told me to embrace the schadenfreude - everyone besides Fanny and Edmund (possibly - both points very much up for debate, but they are at least trying their best in the middle of a family that doesn't give a fuck, really) is either an actively terrible person or at least a pretty bad enabler. That did help me find the humour in it, but personally I certainly find it a bit hard to read at times, especially the Mrs Norris scenes. It's not usually my first choice when I want to be cheered up.

This also tends to surprise people, I think, because the pop-culture image of JA, (probably in large part due to her Victorian relatives wanting to protect her posthumous image) is of a twinkly, proper, sweet-natured spinster lady.

Which she was not. Anyone who's seen extracts of her surviving letters knows that she had a biting, frequently uncharitable sense of humour (miscarriage jokes aren't a great look, Jane!) - and we know Cassandra destroyed the really juicy stuff, so that's got to be the tip of the iceberg. This is certainly apparent in all of her books, but can be ignored much of the time - but not in MP, where uncharitable descriptions of awful people are pretty much the core of the book.

Finally, we come to Fanny, the extremely divisive heroine (not least because of that name lol). Personally I tend to imprint on pathetic small girls who need looking after, but Fanny is a massive turnoff (lolol) for many people. I think that's just a personal thing but I enjoy the effect of her frequently becoming another layer through which the narrative filters - JA was a master of free indirect speech, of course, often with deliberate ambiguity about whose POV is being reported - omniscient narrator or character or both in agreement - and if it's a character, then which one? Fanny usually says and does little, but observes very keenly and astutely, which interacts in a really interesting way with the narration.

Also, I'd just like to point out that Fanny is Like That because she is an abuse victim. She may not be the most compelling heroine for everyone, but she isn't going to "just stand up for herself". The one time she does, the Bertrams punish her for it pretty harshly by sending her back to an environment that they know will be bad for her physical health (!)

Bit of a tangent but I am also a huge fan of Jane Eyre and I think there are interesting parallels to be drawn between Fanny and Jane. Jane Eyre is a fiery, independent character who manages to get out of bad situations one way or another, mostly through sheer dumb luck (don't get me wrong I love my girl Jane but How did she leave that parcel on the coach...). If she'd stayed at Gateshead, I could see her gradually getting beaten down until she became a lot more like Fanny - because other than Jane's innate temper, they have quite a bit in common - they both do, when it comes down it, have a very strong sense of self (yes, even Fanny) and the ability to reject things that they know are morally wrong, no matter the potential cost.

That turned into a bit of a defense of MP because I usually hear people dissing it and so that's what I end up thinking about. Lots more to be said on the Crawfords and the Bertrams, of course.

[horrorknife]

does someone wanna tell me why every post about polyamory on here devolves into how “cringe” it is. just saw this post and a “funny” comment about how everyone agrees that its “peak cringe” but for different reasons.

whats cringe about it? the way its worded? this post is sweet to me. polyamory is a real thing and not just something you talk about on tumblr for shipping purposes. this website is all about “treat people how you want to be treated” until someones lifestyle differs from the majority here. you’re all fucking losers

[lifeofclonewars]

I have a simple writing rule: if Echo speaks, he must repeat