#ouija rants

[beatingtheouijaboardallegations]

forever tired of our voices being turned into commodity.

forever tired of thorough medaocrity in the AAC business. how that is rewarded. How it fails us as users. how not robust and only robust by small small amount communication systems always chosen by speech therapists and funded by insurance.

forever tired of profit over people.

forever tired of how companies collect data on every word we’ve ever said and sell to people.

forever tired of paying to communicate. of how uninsured disabled people just don’t get a voice many of the time. or have to rely on how AAC is brought into classrooms — which usually is managed to do in every possible wrong way.

forever tired of the branding and rebranding of how we communicate. Of this being amazing revealation over and over that nonspeakers are “in there” and should be able to say things. of how every single time this revelation comes with pre condition of leaving the rest behind, who can’t spell or type their way out of the cage of ableist oppression. or are not given chance & resources to. Of the branding being seen as revolution so many times and of these companies & practitioners making money off this “revolution.” of immersion weeks and CRP trainings that are thousands of dollars and wildly overpriced letterboards, and of that one nightmare Facebook group g-d damm it. How this all is put in language of communication freedom. 26 letters is infinite possibilities they say - but only for the richest of families and disabled people. The rest of us will have to live with fewer possibilities.

forever tired of engineer dads of AAC users who think they can revolutionize whole field of AAC with new terrible designed apps that you can’t say anything with them. of minimally useful AI features that invade every AAC app to cash in on the new moment and not as tool that if used ethically could actually help us, but as way of fixing our grammar our language our cultural syntax we built up to sound “proper” to sound normal. for a machine, a large language model to model a small language for us, turn our inhuman voices human enough.

forever tired of how that brand and marketing is never for us, never for the people who actually use it to communicate. it is always for everyone around us, our parents and teachers paras and SLPs and BCBAs and practitioners and doctors and everyone except the person who ends up stuck stuck with a bad organized bad implemented bad taught profit motivated way to talk. of it being called behavior problems low ability incompetence noncompliance when we don’t use these systems.

you all need to do better. We need to democritize our communication, put it in our own hands. (My friend & communication partner who was in Occupy Wall Street suggested phrase “Occupy AAC” and think that is perfect.) And not talking about badly made non-robust open source apps either. Yes a robust system needs money and recources to make it well. One person or community alone cannot turn a robotic voice into a human one. But our human voice should not be in hands of companies at all.

(this is about the Tobii Dynavox subscription thing. But also exploitive and capitalism practices and just lazy practices in AAC world overall. Both in high tech “ mainstream “ AAC and methods that are like ones I use in sense that are both super stigmatized and also super branded and marketed, Like RPM and S2C and spellers method. )

[corvidaedream]

people, especially people making period/fantasy media, will act like corsetry is The Evils Of Misogyny and have their female character take it off and be liberated from it, and not address any actual systemic issues she'd actually experience.

and it feels like they're saying to the audience "well, the problem is solved! that's a wrap, ladies! you don't have to wear corsets in your life so you're fine actually"

and its infuriating the longer I've thought about it and the more I see it. it isn't fine! the woman in the film was her husband's legal property with limited access to education, but thank god she took off her corset!

lawmakers in the u.s. are increasingly restricting medical care and the ability to travel between states for abortions, people are dying, trans women are being treated like they aren't human beings, there still isn't equal pay for equal work,, but hey ladies, we have been freed from the evils of the corset, so shut up and sit down!!

[rastro-writes]

I have to be blunt.

The war of ages makes everything so damn complicated from a timeline perspective, because it isn’t a timeline, it’s a time Ouija board. Nothing happens in order or makes sense with the lore and sequence of event we know, but they all have to happen or the war of ages doesn’t happen to begin with, but then characters should have knowledge that they clearly don’t, which creates additional alternate timelines instead of fitting into existing timelines.

But I can’t just exclude it because I like Wars, he’s fun to mess with, so I can’t say it doesn’t exist and I don’t want to. But Goddesses dammit it’s so hard to make sense of the utterly insane twists and loops in the time web that war makes.

So. Lana Zelda and Link make the wish that it never happened. Cia stays gone, and only those three remember. Because any other version of events has so many conditions and orders of events to work in and just doesn’t make sense.

So. Triforce wish, war didn’t technically happen, we don’t have all the timeline breaking shenanigans happening and it’s all cozy and the ducks are in a row.

Rant over.

[wizardsaur]

So fun fact about my practice:

I don't like having practical tools with only magical use. My athame is a plain old pocketknife. I use it to physically cut stuff. My normal broom is blessed & is what I cleanse with (so is my vacuum, because, carpet). My ritual jewelry is worn daily. My ritual mugs are just my morning coffee mugs, but I pick out which one is best for the working I'm doing (Death work, Ouija mug). And my herbs, hoooo boy, it's my normal spice rack.

Just because it's mundanely practical & useful, doesn't mean it isn't magical. If anything, being interacted with more makes it more powerful.

This is my rant, so as per ushe,

Go Forth & Get Weird With It

[flamingpudding]

Modern (Fenton) Ghost Hunting Part 1

Ties to: Post from under 'It started with a Ouija Board' found in the Masterpost

A/N: I got a little stuck with this and there is another bigger fanfic project I started working on that has me distracted. But I wanted to post at least part of this before I might end up in radio silence for three weeks cause I am visiting family out of country and have no idea about internet access there yet 😅

Danny was in a good mood as he slurped the ecto-shake his mom had made upon his return from the Zone. It was one of the more harmless and ghost helping food inventions his parents had come up with, once the truth was out of the bag when he was more or less forced to take on his kingly duties. Though his mom's ecto-fudge special (that was also one of the few ectoplasm infused foods not coming back to life) made for only him and Ellie was even better than the shakes. It wasn't better than their special family recipes their Dad loved so much but it came a close second.

He sipped on it more as he fell back into the couch as he flicked through some TV channels. His last trip to Gotham had been a month ago and he mused that he probably would need to visit soon to update Lady Gotham on the status of the Garbage Disposal Leaks. It was a pain to deal with but hey at least he, for once, got to be the mean guy to yell at the observants how they could have left these alone for over a hundred of years.

Seriously? If he could, he would stick Sam and one of her righteous rants onto them too.

So yea Danny was in a good mood he had gotten rid of another leak which only left a couple more to take care of and then put the observants into their place with another petty with hidden insults filled and Sam inspired as well as co-authored lecture.

He would give Lady Gotham a present for giving him such a great opportunity with this problem, even if that wasn't her intention. There was also a rumor in the GZ that Box Ghost and Walker had gotten beat up by Lady Gotham several times while he was busy, he would like to hear what that was about.

In all this Danny completely forgot about his encounter with the vigilantes and that his parents told him about a new business partner that was interested in their Fenton Ghost Tech that wasn't weaponry but focused on co-existence, like the Fenton (blob-)ghost feeder.

So when the doorbell rang and Danny went to open the door, thinking it might be one of his friends. He nearly choked on his ecto-shake as he came face to face with a person he only knew from paparazzi shots or Tucker's endless rants about their technology.

"Hello, I am Tim Drake-Wayne! I believe I have an appointment with the Drs Fentons? I am not too early am I?"

-------

Red Robin was on his wits end. After the first success he had used various more 'modern' summonings in hopes of getting their ghost to show up again. But most of them ended with the same white ghost or only one other ghost claiming their name as Box Ghost to appear. Strangely when they did appear, after about a minute after their appearance an invisible force started to attack them to which these ghosts instantly turned tail and 'unsummoned' themselves. They didn't even give Red Robin the chance to ask anything.

In the end after the third time of summoning that white ghost called Walker, the ghost peeked out from that portal once and the moment they spotted him sunk back into it. Not even bothering to tell him about any rules RR might have broken. Since then none of his summons appeared to work anymore.

Though the vigilante at least concluded that whatever had attacked their teenage ghost most likely was also the driving force behind Walker or any other ghost refusing to answer his summonings. He had suspicions that might have something to do with Lady Gotham, the teenage ghost mentioned and had been unable to summon at all.

Of course Red Robin couldn't leave it like that so he dug deeper into the whole ghost cult thing and came across published research papers. Apparently the ghost cult wasn't just an occult but also a science, that he highly doubted was real. The deeper he dug the more concerned he became, for one that ectoplasm they mentioned looked awfully a lot like Lazarus Water, and second the research from the Drs Fenton he found was awfully a lot biased until a year or so ago when they suddenly invalidated all their previous research and published a nearly completely different thesis.

Though the teenage vigilante had to admit everything they offered on their website looked a whole lot more modern and right out of a SyFy movie than any of the tools he had already purchased, from a ghost Wikipedia (which surprisingly included information about Walker and that Box Ghost), to protective gear, to feeders and ectoplasm infusers.

So after a small recon with his siblings and listening to their disagreement and another rant from their youngest about Pit Demons, Red Robin made the decision to check these Drs Fenton out undercover. And who better to do that than Tim Drake-Wayne, CoCEO of Wayne Enterprise who got interested in their ectoplasm-powered gadgets designed for co-existing. After all Gotham might just be as hunted if not more with the crime rate they had.

His siblings were not happy, he knew that but he took the earliest chance he had, to take a private plane to Amity Park and made an appointment with the Fentons on a saturday afternoon.

He made sure to smile pleasantly as the son of the Drs Fentons opened the door and took his time staring. Before finally inviting him in after a shout from the Drs. resounded somewhere behind him in the house. Tim of course eyed the glowing green shake the other teenager was drinking, already forming plans on getting a sample of it the first chance he got.

"Mr. Drake! Such a pleasure to have you here! You have already met my little boy Danny, my husband will join us later he got hold up by my daughters. But we do have a couple of inventions prepared for showcasing, we could also go over some of the theories first if you prefer until my husband can join us.." A woman came up shaking his hand and the teenager, Danny, stepped away from them retreating further away but staying in earshot, Tim noted.

"Dr. Fenton, thank you for having me. I am looking forward to learning about this ecto-energy and your Fenton-inventions, I believe one was called an Ecto-Infuser?" Did he imagine it or did that boy cringe? Also the boy was clearly watching him, he tried to appear nonchalant but the way the other teen's eyes followed Tims every move as well as the guarded look in his eyes was making it obvious.

"The Ecto-Dejecto, originally designed to weaken ghosts but is now one of the many medical tools that can help a ghost survive if they do not have a steady supply of ectoplasm." Dr. Fenton easily explained while leading him over to the seating area.

"Danny be a dear and bring our guest something to drink. Coffee or Tea?"

"Coffee would be fine." Not like he would actually drink it. As much as he and his siblings made fun of Bruce's paranoia, he was not about to drink coffee offered by people who research ghosts. Besides, looking around, he wasn't sure how well they followed OSHA and he wasn't about to potentially drink a coffee infused with Lazarus Water. If that ectoplasm was Lazarus water. But he would take it with him as one of many samples.

"Sure things mom. Should I bring out the fudge too?"

Tim's ear twitched and he turned ever so slightly in the direction of the son. No it couldn't be, could it?

"Oh please be so kind."

"Will be right back."

Now Tim wished he had forced at least one of his siblings along. Because if his ears didn't betray him then this teenager had the same voice like the ghost kid. Though his memory could be slightly impaired because of the time frame since he had last heard it. He would need to get a voice recording now too and play it to his siblings.

[pizzabox-box]

(DMW) How's Peppino feel about basically having front row seats to Peppi-no's day to day? As we've seen, although FP isn't doing the best imitation of the original, he still gets away with it. Is Pino upset that even Gustavo can't tell that it's not him, irritated that FP's "fishing for sympathy", or just kinda goin "I'm not THAT stressed all the time geez ease up" and other such background comments on FP's act?

Okay, let me get my ouija board real quick.

Imagine watching a really bad tv show. Where the main character is stupid beyond comphrehension and the side characters are oblivious to what's happening in front of them.

"DON'T THEY SEE IT??" LOOK AT HIM" He is pissed off, he's irritated. At times resigned. always ranting. And he won't miss an opportunity to scold Fake for doing something dumb. (Like eating the hand cream like a stupid ravenous animal)

Of course he's not a big fan of Fakers (so far successful) attempts to impersonate him. But he also acknowledges Faker's efforts to set things "right" and at times he *almost* feels bad for the guy, but you know , he killed him so...he deserves it. He won't hesitate to remind Fake of what he did.

Ok, now we're diving into more speculative territory but if you examine Peppi-no's speech closely you may notice Peppino's comments slip through. (For example: "THAT WAS THE ENTIRE PLAN? YOU STUPID IDIOT")

Okay semi related yap time! I spend quite some time trying to design the "dead man" .Not like he's going to show much anyways(he's dead) but I wanted to design him. Here are some drawings that are worth sharing.

i have plenty more but they are either just scribles or kinda edgy

[reginageorgesgirlfriend3020]

Regina George as your girlfriend headcannons (Part 7)

Loves scary movies

She loves that you love both Ouija movies

Where she works at she got you a slice of carrot cake

And your first date Regina as your girlfriend was sharing a slice of carrot cake at this local dessert place

When you want Regina to hold you, you say “Baby”.

And she will hold you while you and Regina will fall asleep

Sleeping on Regina with her arms around you, you will definitely never have another nightmare again

And with Regina always hugging you with her arms around you strongly you feel your depression starting to go away

Regina makes you so happy

And you make her happy too

During class she will sneak a kiss on your cheek quick

And when the economic teacher turns around Regina will sneak a quick kiss on your lips which makes everyone say, “Oooohhh!!!”

During lunch she doesn’t care much about what Gretchen or Karen rants on about how they had a hard time putting their outfit together

When Regina winks at you that means she can’t wait to kiss you again

When Regina smiles at you and blows you a kiss that means she can’t wait to cuddle you

And when Regina slides a note to you. It reads:Damn you look beautiful today. Red is your color!!

And you write back: Even with sweatpants on your butt looks good in it

And Regina writes: Your eyes are so pretty! I wanna put a pool in them and play volleyball against you

And you smiled

Shes quite spontaneous too when she writes notes to you

[ponyhasapepsiaddiction]

hi! can i get headcannons about each of the boys you have?

Hi! Of course you can. I totally didn't think of these right now and then fell in love with them, haha totally had them prepared.

Sodapop believes in paranormal stuff and is careful not to mess with any of it. Dally suggested they do a ouija board once and he freaked out and went on a rant about not fucking with that shit.

Johnny will always have multiple packs of cigarettes on him and most of the time the gang will end up asking him for some. It’s mainly Dally and Ponyboy because they never bring spare packs and always run out. They are communal cigarettes

When Dally can’t find anywhere else to go for the night, and he can’t be bothered to walk over to the Curtis house, he would go to a spot under a bridge where the gang used to hang out before they got told off by Mr and Mrs Curtis for going there, because they could get hurt.

Steve also believes in the paranormal and is also careful with it, but less so than Soda because he still wants to act cool, especially around Pony, because he needs to assert dominance.

Sometimes when Pony’s reading he will go into random positions and be too invested in the book to care if it hurts or not. His brothers would sometimes come home and see him half hanging off the couches or chairs reading or he would be lying underneath the table. Darry and Soda don’t even question it anymore.

Two-Bit likes to balance random objects on top of each other just to amuse himself (in the movie he balanced a shoe on a can). He’s gotten really good at balancing things. One time he was so concentrated on balancing really hard objects that he didn’t notice that someone had fallen off the roof and broke their arm. That person was Steve.

Sometimes Darry would come home slightly later from one of his jobs and he would be really tired so he would lock himself in his room and sleep for about 10-15 minutes just to recharge before getting up to make dinner.

At one point or another, each one of the gang have tried to draw like Ponyboy weather in secret or not. Johnny was the best because he spent more time with Pony and he gave him some tips on techniques.

Hope you like them. I have more but I figured I can save those for another time, a be secretive about them.

[florisa6s]

A idea- bats

I fully believe that only Dick and Tim believed in ghosts so whenever there's a 'paranormal' mission only they are taking it serious.

They end up doing some Scooby-Doo stuff. Like running around and disguising themselves

I want to see the bats ghost hunting in Gotham being absolutely ridiculous

----

Jason: Dick and Tim can do it their not yellow

Dick and Tim: Yes we are *completely clad in yellow uniforms*

------

Dick: no way! You are crazy if you think I'm going in there!

Damian: oh please Grayson ghosts don't exist-

Dick: Damian! No my baby come back it'll devour you!

Jason: tch please we should be worried about the ghost not Damian

-----

Bruce: Tim why is there a ring of salt around the manor?

Tim: ghosts

Dick in a blanket burrito: mhm ghosts

Bruce: and where is Damian?

Dick:....no where

Bruce: Dick-

Damian: Father help! Grayson is trying to suffocate me!

*Damian pops out of the blankets only to be cocooned back by Dick*

Dick: no clue where he is definitely

------

Dick: Jason no flirting with the ghost!

Jason: it's not my fault I'm a hunk he probably senses my half dead-ness ...and he definitely touched my ass and you know it!

Dick *fluttering eyelashes pulling a anime pose* : oh no if they touched your ass imagine what they'll do to a cutie like me! I'm too young too pure! *Proceeds to rant to Jason*

Tim: their stupid if they think any ghost would want them

Damian: I concur, if anything you and me would be taken since we are shorter, cuter and more innocent, childlike and not old men

Tim: yup everyone knows we're the irritable ones

Damian: yes it is a curse and a blessing inheriting all the good looks

*both dramatically posing*

-----

The bats in the living room using a Ouija board

Dick: ghost...tell me how-

Jason: how many pickles can you sho-

Dick:- There's children here!!!

Tim: ghost tell me the most embarrassing story you have about Damian-

*Loud crash*

Dick:Aaahhh!

Jason: Holy shi-

Tim: Take Damian first he's the most evil one!

Damian: wha- Drake!?

*it ends up just being Alfred*

[eldritch-spouse]

Cero communicating with us via ouija board. We say something that irks him; he starts rapidly moving the planchette letters in and goes on a rant like the navyseal copypasta levels.

You can't even follow what this demon is saying to you anymore.

He introduced himself as Lord Di Cero and immediately stated great displeasure in the method you used to contact him. He also called your living area "horribly pitiful".

It's unclear what grave sin you have committed to have the planchette screaming as he drags it across the board, but your eyes glazed over and you've long since stopped trying to make heads or tails out of his indignant raving.

The planchette is suddenly lifted, then slammed hard back onto the board, your arms practically turning to putty from the force. Vases get knocked to the ground and your table is clawed to an unrecognizable state.

With tightened lips and the fear of something worse than God in your veins, you look down at the new movement pattern over the board.

" P A Y A T T E N T I O N "

" Y- Yes sir! "

The planchette moves fast once more. " W R O N G A G A I N "

You correct yourself immediately. " I'm so- sorry Lord Di Cero! "

" B E T T E R "

when you attempt to remove your fingers from the planchette, it feels as if big hands are keeping your arms still with the force of raw iron. And yet, you see nothing on them.

" Y O U A R E S T A Y I N G H E R E U N T I L Y O U L E A R N "

There's a ghost of a hot breath against your scalp.

" A M I C L E A R "

You gulp. " Yes Lord Cero! "

[multifandomfanficss]

Home Is Wherever You Are P2

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: You take Adrian, Gut, and Chris school shopping. It might be harder to keep the timeline in tact than you originally thought.

Warnings: mentions of/implied child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: I’ve decided to start with biweekly updates! I’m post on Saturday and Wednesday. I’ll also be posting on my new AO3 adriansglasses. I’ve actually added all of my old work there as well. Hope you guys enjoy!

“You’re the most attractive person I’ve seen in my entire life.” Adrian smiles at you.

“Shut up. No, I’m not.” You blush hiding your face from your boyfriend.

“Don’t hide.” He pushes your hands away from your face. “Please don’t hide your pretty face. It’s like the prettiest face I’ve ever seen and even if it wasn’t- which would be totally absurd like have you even seen yourself? You’re so hot- anyway more to the point. Your personality is so attractive to me that you’re automatically that much hotter. That’s just math babe. Do two wrongs make a right?” You laugh at his comparison. To someone else that may not make sense, but to many people Adrian never made sense. To you, he always made perfect sense.

“You’re too nice to me.” You say smiling at him.

“Well you’re the only one who’s nice to me sometimes period and your pain in the ass loves you very much.” He kisses you.

“I never said you were a pain in the ass!” You laugh. He gives you a look.

“Okay, I may have said it once or twice, but I didn’t mean it. I was just teasing you.” You kiss him on the cheek as he holds you close.

“It’s okay. I know I’m annoying and hard to deal with sometimes.” You turn his face to look directly in your eyes so he knows you’re serious.

“Not to me.”

September 1st, 1994

You woke up to the sound of the chunky alarm clock on the nightstand. You could hear somebody cooking downstairs. You used the bathroom and made your way to the kitchen to find Diane making breakfast.

“Morning! I’m running a little later than usual this morning, so all I could really manage was toast and eggs. Hope that’s okay.” She gave you a sympathetic smile.

“That’s more than okay. I usually skip breakfast half the time anyway.” You admit.

“You shouldn’t do that. Adrian’s always trying to skip breakfast. He doesn’t like most breakfast foods. I’ve been trying to make sure he eats more of them.” You have to bite back a comment about how his future self is still just as annoyed by the concept. You think back to all his rants about how breakfast doesn’t make sense because it’s foods you can only eat in the morning. He was always annoyed that he couldn’t order pancakes at dinner time or a burger for breakfast unless he was in a diner. It just didn’t make sense to him. ‘What?! Suddenly diners don’t have to follow the rules?! It’s all just a bullshit societal construct!’ You could hear his voice now.

“You could have called me down to help.” You say as the food sizzles in the pan.

“You were sleeping. You had a long day yesterday. I need your help with something while I’m at work anyway.” She says, turning to take the toast out of the toaster.

“What can I do for you?” You ask without debate. She’s helped you a lot and she is Adrian’s mom after all. You never thought you’d get to meet her outside of an ouija board. It’s the least you can do in your current situation.

“I have an envelope in my room for you with back to school money in it. It’s mostly just tip money I’ve been saving up from the restaurant. If you could bring the boys into town to get school clothes that would be wonderful. Adrian needs a little bit of everything. He just went through a big growth spirt. Dorian mostly needs new sneakers, but he should get a pair of jeans and maybe a couple shirts. There’s enough money in there to get a few things for Chris because God knows his father won’t do it. There should also be a little leftover if you want to get anything for yourself.” She says, beating the eggs.

“For me?” You question.

“You showed up with no clothes. You can have some of my old clothes, but I doubt you have the style of a divorced mom with two and a half kids. You should get one or two things you actually like.” She laughs.

“No, Diane I- I couldn’t-“

“Yes, you can and you will. This is basically just payment for the nannying gig.”

You smile at her. “Okay, fine. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

After cooking breakfast and saying goodbye to the boys, Diane was off to the office for the day. She was a secretary at a nearby law firm. Waitressing was only her second job to help pay the bills after her husband left for another man.

“Dorian, do you know where Adrian’s shoes are?” You ask as you chase Adrian around the living room, trying to get him ready to leave. He had so much energy. You couldn’t say you were surprised.

“That’s not my name.” He sat there with his face in his gameboy, barley giving you the time of day. He was just radiating 12 year old angst. Honestly you couldn’t blame him. He was 12, Chris was 13, and they were both about to enter 7th grade. That’s hard enough on its own. It’s probably a lot harder when your mom is asking you to help look after your 3 year old brother because your dad just left because he’s gay. It’s 1994 in Evergreen, Washington and his best friend’s dad is the biggest homophobe in the country. None of this must be easy on him.

“What do you wanna be called?” You ask. He tears his eyes away from his gameboy to give you a look. It’s almost like nobody’s ever asked him or cared for his opinion.

“Gut.” He answers.

“Yeah that’s a much cooler name. My dad says Dorian is a pansy name.” Chris says, continuing to channel surf.

“Christopher Smith that is not nice and will not be tolerated when I’m around. Understand?” You know you can’t tell him his dad is wrong. You know if he challenges his dad now he might not make it back alive, so you hold your tongue for now.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He huffs.

“Actually, as your babysitter, I can.” You turn to Gut. “Okay Gut, where’s your brother’s shoes?” You try again.

“By the door, under the bench.” He informs you.

“Thank you.” You smile, bringing Adrian to sit on the bench, so you can put on his shoes. There’s two pairs under the bench. You lift them up for him to choose between. One pair has dinosaurs on them and the other pair lights up. He very excitedly points at the light up ones. You can’t get him to sit still long enough to put on the shoes, so eventually you inevitably drop one.

“Motherfucker!” Adrian exclaims in his loud toddler voice.

“Adrian!” You say in shock. You want to laugh because this is so him, but you don’t wanna be blamed for this one. He’s only 3. He giggles at your reaction of the forbidden word.

“Motherfucker!” He says it again in a fit of giggles.

“Buddy, you can’t say that. That’s a grownup word. If you say it too many times you have to go to work and pay taxes.” You try to persuade him against the word.

“What’s taxes?” He asks.

“Taxes are what grown ups have to pay to people. They give a lot of money that you don’t have, so you shouldn’t say that word. Also not paying is a crime. I don’t wanna pay taxes, so I’m not gonna say it.” You try to bargain with him using toddler logic.

“But Dor and Chris say it!” He objects.

“Well, Dor and Chris are gonna have to pay taxes soon.” Adrian begins to cry. “Why are you crying, buddy?” You wipe his tears.

“I’m scawred!” He cries.

“Of what?” You ask.

“Taxes!” He cries.

“It’s okay. You didn’t say it enough times to have to pay taxes.” You pull his small, hiccuping body into your arms, not quite sure what to do. You feel kinda bad. Parenting is fucking hard. They say never parent your boyfriend, but you were taking it to a whole new level. You don’t think this is what they meant.

Finally you had wrangled the boys together and you were on your way to the store. You had to walk because Diane had the car at work and you obviously didn’t have one, but the store wasn’t far.

“Why do we have to walk? This is fucking stupid.” Chris complained.

“Chris, knock it off. We’re at the repeating age.” You gesture to Adrian, who was jumping around the cracks on the sidewalk. Luckily he wasn’t paying attention.

“Hey, Adrian!” Chris grabs his attention.

“Chris!” Adrian runs up to him, on his wobbly little legs.

“Don’t you fucking dare-“ The words came out of your mouth before you even had the chance to realize it.

Gut laughs. “You’re the one who actually said fuck in front of him.”

“Fuck!” Adrian repeats.

“No no no no no!” You try to stop him.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He says as he hops up and down with each fuck.

“No! I said…duck! I said duck!” Gut and Chris break into a fit of laugher.

“Rey’s lying, Adrian.” Gut tells him. Adrian stops giggling and his entire body language changes. He starts to cry, trying to walk away. His little legs don’t carry him very far. You turn to Gut and Chris.

“Please just stop! I just wanna get through the day. Would it kill you to just be nicer to him?!” You don’t mean to lose your temper with the boys, but you know this is only the start to a lifetime of bullying and provoking Adrian. You sigh, dropping your attitude. They’re all just kids. “Stay here for a minute.” You turn in Adrian’s direction and start racing after him.

You try to scoop his little body into your arms, but he screams at you. “NO! NO!” Okay. He’s not great with words, but he totally has no down. You decide to give him some space. Even if he’s not his adult self yet, he’s still a person. You know how easily overwhelmed he gets as an adult. You can’t imagine how upset his 3 year old self is.

“Buddy, I’m really sorry.” You apologize. Your heart breaks. You hate knowing you made him cry.

“P-p-pweas don’t weave!” He begs you not to leave through his tears.

“Hey…what’s going on? Why do you think I’m gonna leave?” You question him.

“Daddy lied to m-mommy and now he’s not here!” Adrian cries. Oh fuck. Of course he couldn’t fully grasp that his father had an affair and that’s why he’s gone.

“Adrian, listen to me. I will never leave you for something like that. I’m sorry I lied to you. Lying isn’t nice, but I’m here for you. I will always be there for you. Even if I’m not here with you, right next to you, I promise I will always love you.” You try to keep yourself from crying now. You can’t help, but think of your version of Adrian at home without you. You try to keep your tears in and stay strong for the younger version of the man you love right in front of you. They feel like different people, but they’re not. This is Adrian and you need to help him.

“Lying isn’t nice!” Adrian repeats, sniffling as his tears slow.

“You’re right. It’s not. Do you want a hug or do you not want to be touched?” You ask.

“Hug!” He cries, crashing into your open arms. You hold his little body as he cries.

“Even if you can’t see me, I’ll always be with you. I love you.” Everything about this is so fucked up. You shouldn’t even be here. You’re messing with Adrian’s life. You’re messing with Chris’ life. Everything about this feels so wrong, but when he’s crying in your arms like this all you can think about is the restless nights when you’d cuddle with your boyfriend and he’d shed a tear or two about his childhood. You knew how much it effected him even now and you just wanted to protect him from all that was to come and heal all that had already happened, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Time had to run its course.

After you helped baby Adrian collect himself you joined Chris and Gut back on the sidewalk and continued your way to the store. Town was small, so the walk wasn’t long, but luckily you had a new Walmart nearby. In your day this Walmart was shitty, but in 1994 it was new. You let Gut and Chris walk around on their own with the promise they’d meet you in the men’s clothing section. You were going to take Adrian to the toddler section. Toddler clothes were cheaper and he was growing fast, so you picked out a couple different outfits for him. You grabbed some basic pants and socks that would match everything and let him pick his own shirts. He settled on a shirt with a spaceship on it that said ‘I’m so cute it’s out of this world’. He also picked a Barney shirt and an Aladdin shirt after making a comment on how both Jasmin AND Aladdin were pretty. You then brought him to your side of the clothing department to grab a shirt or two you liked before meeting up with the boys. After settling on some basic shirts, you were on your way to meet Chris and Gut when you passed the electronic isle and you caught Chris staring at a tape recorder. Even from a distance you could tell he was about to cry as he put it back on the shelf. Gut was nowhere to be seen, probably waiting in the men’s isle like was supposed to. He usually listened better.

“Hey, Chris…”

“I’m not crying!” He wipes his eyes.

“I know.” You give him a smile.

“I just got dust in my eye. They need to clean these shelves better.” He crossed his arms across his chest. You crouched down in front of Adrian.

“Hey, Ade. Why don’t you go pick out a movie for us to watch tonight from the clearance bin?” He wiggled excitedly before taking off towards the bin of cheaper VHS tapes.

“Stay where I can see you!” You called after him. He did just as you said and stayed in your line of vision as you talked to Chris more privately.

“Level with me. I know you weren’t crying, but if you had been crying…hypothetically of course…you could tell me anything. You know that, right?” You weren’t sure if you were breaking the timeline, but at this point you didn’t care. Chris deserved to be able to trust someone in his life.

“I wasn’t crying.” Chris tried to walk away from you, but you caught his arm in your hand.

“Chris, wait-“ He hissed as you made contact with his shoulder. Your jaw drops and you can almost feel tears in your eyes. You pulled up his sleeve to reveal small, circular burn marks. They were burns left behind from where his father had put out cigarettes in his arm.

“Stop starring at me like I’m a freak and just let me go.” He pushes you off of him and he walks away. You knew this job would be hard, but it’s a lot worse than you expected. You had no idea it would be this awful constant moral battle between letting these kids get hurt and keeping the timeline in tact. After realizing you were all alone and you could still see Adrian, but he wasn’t paying attention to you, you started to cry. After taking a deep breath you wiped your tears and picked up the tape recorder, putting the shirts for yourself on the shelf. Fuck it. Chris deserved something his dad couldn’t ruin. So what if you had to wear Diane’s maternity clothes and any clothes her husband left behind? You knew how much he loved music. He deserved this. Timeline be damned he deserved one fucking thing in his life untouched by his father. You hid it in the cart under some of Adrian’s clothes before heading to him digging around in the clearance vhs section.

“Rey!” He called for you as soon as he saw you.

“Adrian!” You called back, pretending to be happy. “Did you pick one?” You ask.

“This one!” He says, excitedly shoving the tape in your hands. You couldn’t help, but smile a real genuine smile. In your hands was a copy of the movie Adrian told you was his favorite growing up; The Brave Little Toaster.

“Have you seen this one?” You ask.

“No!” He smiles, hardly able to stand still.

“You’re gonna love it.” You smile, placing it in the cart. You take his hand and you both head to the men’s section to get clothes for Gut and Chris. Gut picked out a Green Day shirt, while Chris picked out a Nirvana shirt. You were happy when Chris didn’t pick up the Green Day shirt because you knew having that might get him in trouble in the next 10 years when they come out with American Idiot. His dad’s gonna hate that. These were of course considered hot new bands and most of their most famous songs weren’t even out yet. After picking out a couple more clothing items you headed to checkout. You were thankful Adrian was being such a distraction because Chris didn’t even see you put the tape recorder in the bag. With the remaining money, you took a bus to Fennel Fields for dinner where you told Diane you’d meet her on her night shift.

“Mommy!” Adrian yelled running up to her as soon walked through the door. It was nice to see him with his mother.

After grabbing a pizza you headed home. When you got there you pulled Chris aside and gave him the tape recorder.

“Happy birthday.” You said handing him the Walmart bag.

“It’s not my birthday.” He gives you a strange look.

“I know. Just think of it as an advance on your birthday gift.” You smile as he starts to open it.

“Is this mine?” He asks in shock. You nod. “Why did you do this?” He asks.

“Because you deserve something that’s yours that you enjoy.” You say as you watch his eyes well up with tears again.

“I’m not crying.” He says again.

“I know. But even if you were…it’s okay…” He stares at you for a moment before bringing you into a wordless hug. You stand there for a moment, shocked. You never expected this from him, but you wrap your arms around him anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. You deserve it.” You remind him. You know it won’t change the timeline much, but this time, you hope it does something.

After tucking Adrian in, you leave Gut and Chris to play video games until Diane gets home. You head to your room, flipping onto your bed with a sigh. You just hope you did the right thing. You open your phone and head to your voicemails. This has almost become routine.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’m just calling because I know you had a bad day today and I was thinking…” You close your eyes, as the voicemail plays and you begin to cry. You’ll see him again one day. You have to. You didn’t know how or when, but you had to. You’d figure it out. You’d make a plan.

[beatingtheouijaboardallegations]

being active on here is hard because remembering it exists is hard. is also hard because going through scary scary thing with housing discrimination & having to rewrite support plans & big meetings with strangers about life & scary scary risk of institution. and in community I feel most at home in on here, is pain and confusing to see so many people use and self identify with exact words that are being used right now to deny me basic medical care & communication rights & freedom to live in world with others .

and people absolutely have right o identify with whatever but see lots people uncritical words “ functions / understand at level of (young age) “ or profound autism low functioning. sometimes exact words used against me now that sound more polite kind of like intensive behavioral needs or complex or significant when people not want say low functioning or say r word. but meaning the same.

or even say things like living in the community isn’t for everyone institutions good for some people restraint seclusion good for some people. people who say that people with high support needs are also high control needs / high caregiver authority needs. and can’t know people’s histories and unfreedoms and needs through internet posting but see many people use term to refer not selves but some Other group autistic people or theoretical “some “ autistic people in these words

I will also admit there is feeling of resentment when people who have not been through traumas and every day fears for safety and future safety that these words visercally evoke for us use these words and ideas for selves. Which I know that can’t know that at all at all at all through internet with people I don’t know and they have right to keep that private. that is a trauma response we need to work out within selfves so can co exist in autistic space on here

[sp0o0kylights]

The Occult Summoner Starter Kit was a failed competitive toy to Hasbro's Ouija Board (a game that was doing numbers in 1986 for reasons the government would later pretend they noticed a lot sooner than they actually did.) 

Unfortunately for the toy company, The Occult Summoner Starter Kit (complete with two real, black candles!) was a total flop.

In fact it barely sold at all, stubbornly hanging on to sale racks to the point where you could offer a store owner a dollar and they'd be delighted just to have the shelf space. 

No one really bought them, outside of confused grandmothers and a handful of children who used the candles for arson.

Eddie Munson bought seven.

Initially it had just been three kits, because it was cheap and making a proper set up for D&D boss battle was an art form. 

The rest was something of a joke. Some asshole a year above him decided Eddie ran a cult and made sure the entire school knew, earning Eddie endless amounts of stupid, mocking questions.

In return, he had found it absolutely hilarious to offer Occult Summoner Starter Kits to anyone being a jackass.

You gotta make your own fun, sometimes. 

At least it came in handy now that they were attempting to summon some actual occult bullshit. Eddie had no idea if the sets were going to work, but it was better than the two cans and a fricken string Henderson and Sinclair had presented him with. 

"You use those as a telephone, not to talk to the dead." He'd chastised, which lead to Sinclair sputtering and Henderson going on a rant that included words like "psychic-soundwaves" and "electromagnetic fields."" 

IE way above Eddie's own head, even if he was loath to admit it. 

At least Harrington hadn't bothered to pretend he knew what the kid was on about, looking at Dustin with exasperation so fond it gave Eddie the worst urge to bite something.

Preferably Harrington. 

Which, in retrospect, should have been the first sign something had gone horribly wrong because Eddie's bite reflex only came out this strong for cute shit. 

"Explain to me again what exactly we are trying to contact?" 

"Not a what, who." Henderson corrected, setting up the kits he'd snatched from Eddie's arms. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Okay fine. Who exactly are you trying to connect to? And why the hell did we have to do it specifically in King Steve's backyard?"

Shock of shockers that his majesty even let Eddie in the house, let alone Eddie armed with a literal stack of a game that would have sent most of his neighbors fleeing in terror. 

"Would you stop interrupting?" Dustin snapped, looking up from his work with an annoyed frown. "You're just as bad as Steve! Go talk to him so I can concentrate." 

The tone alone would have made Eddie gape, but the sheer audacity of it all threw him so hard he just stood there wide eyed. 

Unsure if it had actually happened, or if he had just hallucinated. 

Hell, maybe this whole thing was one giant weed induced coma dream, and he'd wake up all snug in the trailer. Warm, childless, and not anywhere near Steve Harrington's stupid, perfectly shaped ass. 

(The very same ass that was currently wearing shorts that hugged them so tightly it made Eddie want to scream and pull at his hair. 

Shorts shouldn't fit like that, dammit!) 

"I keep telling him he needs to work on his tone." Harrington said, startling Eddie out of his thoughts and making him blush scarlet. 

A fact he quirky hid by running his hands over his face. 

"No kidding." Eddie muttered. Louder, he asked; "Why is this even happening?"

Steve blinked. 

"Huh?" 

"This kinda thing isn't exactly your scene, man. In fact, I recall several remarks about how you wouldn't be caught dead playing with," Eddie removed his hands so he could make air quotes, "--fake nerd bullshit."

Steve flinched, looking away while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

"I used to be an asshole, yeah." He said. 

Eddie made a loud, ugly noise. 

"Used to?" He challenged, crossing his arms. 

"Still am sometimes." Steve admitted, a soft, apologetic look on his face. "The kids made me wanna change, though, and after I did I realized that I never really liked who I was." 

He smiled absently at the trio crouched down on the pool deck as he talked, voice startling honest. 

Not that Eddie was about to let it slide. He didn't have any proof that Harrington had changed. 

Not really. 

The fact he'd noticed Steve had stopped hanging out with his douchebag friends his last year, or that Eddie had walked face-first into a pillar upon seeing him working at Scoops before the mall burnt down didn't count. 

Not that Eddie kept an eye out for the guy or anything. 

"Still." He snipped, shaking the thoughts away with a toss of his head. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd let them try to summon a dead guy in your backyard." 

The very idea of it was the kind of absurd that even Eddie couldn't believe. 

Except the look Steve was giving him now wasn't embarrassed or even annoyed.

It was puzzled. 

Surprised, even.

"Oh they didn't tell you?" Steve said, raising an eyebrow. "They're not trying to summon a dead guy."

A pit of dread bloomed in Eddie's stomach, an internal warning that things were about to go sideways, fast. 

"What are they trying to do then?" Eddie asked, the words crawling out of his mouth without his permission.

"They're trying to call El--Mike's girlfriend, in California." Steve said, which was interesting because it confirmed that Mike wasn't lying when he insisted his little girlfriend was a) real and b) did in fact like being called Eleven instead of Jane sometimes. 

"Apparently they rang up a nasty phone bill trying to include her on a party line call last week." Steve waved a hand. " So Occult Summoner kit it is." 

"They woke me up, at eight in the morning, on a Saturday," Eddie began, horrified, "so the three of them could call Mike's long distance girlfriend?" 

"Mmhmm." 

"I'm going to kill them." Eddie said faintly. He swayed backwards dramatically, though part of him really did go lightheaded with the knowledge that the freshmen had walked all over him for once instead of their self-proclaimed babysitter. 

Alarmingly, Harrington reached out, as if he was going to catch Eddie like the fucking Disney prince the entire town thought he was. 

Eddie ended the dramatics immediately, before he made a fool of himself by actually falling (or worse, said something stupid the second Steve's arms came around him, the very thought of which made him want to throw up and die.) 

Satisfied Eddie wasn't going to go down like a Victorian maiden, Harrington slowly lowered his arms back to his  sides

"Want a beer?"  He offered, as Eddie silently choked on his own anger. 

"God yes." 

                                                           xXx

Conceptually, Eddie understood how ended up hungover in Steve's bedroom. 

The kids had taken so long that they'd run through an entire case of beers, which hadn't seemed to phase Harrington one bit, but had, rather unfairly, put Eddie right on his ass.

Since he was unable to drive the kids home, Steve had ended up dropping them off instead, and then picked up pizza on the way back for Eddie to sober up over like the good civilian he was. 

In return, Eddie had offered some of his weed as both an apology and a thank you--and then made the mistake of taking up Steve's offer of smoking it with him. 

"Had a bad trip a while back." The younger man had said, almost shyly. "I don't really get high much anymore, and never by myself.” 

How could Eddie say no to that?

Which of course meant he'd then smoked and ate and ended up getting into Harrington's father's expensive scotch--

("You cannot sit here and tell me there's not a difference between five dollar and one hundred dollar scotch Steve. I don't believe it."

"Dude give me two minutes and I will prove to you they taste exactly the same.") 

--which meant no driving home. 

The bedroom had come into play when Eddie found himself in a discussion on rich people's horrible taste in décor. 

Sure, using Steve's own house as an example wasn't the brightest of ideas, except Steve had simply raised an eyebrow and told him that the bare ass, gray living room they sat in was nothing. 

Led him up to his room, upon which Eddie had become so dizzy staring at all the plaid that he’d laid down dramatically on Steve’s bed and loudly declared he’d died from horrible décor. 

Considering the plaid everything in Steve's own room was currently making Eddie's hangover worse, he thought he'd rather proved his point.

What Eddie didn’t understand is why Steve hadn’t kicked him out of the house already. It wasn’t like they were friends. Hell, he and Steve had barely spoken before today, and even then they’d only had a few stilted conversations that had been the result of Henderson trying to force them to become buddies. 

Okay, Steve ended up being fun to hang out with. Yes he had in fact, changed from the King persona he wore so easily in high school. No Eddie and he had never had any kind of direct confrontation with each other, but it was a damn small town. 

You couldn’t walk three feet without repeatedly running into other people’s business. 

It was still weird. 

The sun beaming into the room declared it was at least past 9 am, and the smell of coffee and breakfast foods wafting up the stairs hinted that Steve had been up before him for at least thirty minutes, minimum. 

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and Eddie looked up to watch as Steve, fully dressed, came trotting through the door, a glass of water in hand. 

"Morning.” Steve said with a grin. “You doin’ ok man? Remember everything you did last night?"

"This isn't my first hangover, Harrington."  Eddie scoffed, scooting to the edge of the bed. He gratefully accepted the glass of water Steve gave him, chugging it empty before carefully setting it aside on the nightstand. “A few beers and some weed isn’t enough to give me amnesia.” 

Which of course, wasn’t true at all--his memories were a blurry mess after he landed in Steve’s bed, but he knew they’d had at least one more discussion before dropping off because he definitely recalled Steve laughing about Eddie insisting he sleep on the right side of the bed. 

Not that he was going to admit that to King Steve, whose clearly high level of tolerance probably stemmed from stupid jock genes.

(Or a family history of alcoholism, but Eddie had found out the hard way one tended to get punched for stating that little fact.)

"Good." Steve said with a smirk. 

Then he walked over to the bed, placed a hand on either side of Eddie's hips, bent and kissed him.

It was a good kiss--a great kiss even!-- except Eddie’s entire brain ground to an abrupt halt, bodily functions and ability to kiss back freezing right with it. 

"Whaaa-".Eddie said intelligently once Steve departed, the only thought that came through the cloud of singing angels and buzzing static of confusion. 

Considered, maybe, that the room had actually killed him because Steve? And Eddie?

Kissing!?

Harrington moved back, "There. Proof.” He teased, looking up through his eyelashes with a downright sinful grin and oh god, could a man die twice? 

Eddie was certain he was about to find out if Steve kept looking at him like that. 

When Eddie didn’t answer (couldn’t!) Steve added coyly, “I thought you said you remembered everything?"

Except of course, his own lack of reaction had to ruin it because he saw the moment Steve realized Eddie was frozen in place. 

“You lied.” He decided, and the sweet, adorably smug look dropped off his face so fast that Eddie whined aloud. 

Steve removed his hands from the bed, pushing to stand up and put some room between them. He ran his hands through his hair and oh, oh shit, he was starting to panic. 

‘Say something. Say something right the fuck now you idiot-!’ 

“What am I not remembering?” Eddie asked, forcing the words out and not caring that they weren’t clear. He could make them clear in a moment if he had too, he just needed to know what the fuck just happened. “Because I know for a fact we didn’t kiss last night, there is no way in hell I would ever forget that.” 

Steve’s distressed look depend and okay, maybe he should have considered the words and tone better but you had to forgive a guy when his very straight crush decided to up and kiss him out of nowhere. 

Giving up any desire to look cool or casual about this in anyway (because he couldn’t, there was no way he was going to keep his composure through this and he might as well admit that to himself now, before he went and fucked up further) he reached out and made grabby hands at Steve.

“Come over while you explain it please, I need to touch you to make sure you’re real.” 

He got a squinted look in return, as if Steve was assessing to see if he was joking or not. 

Eddie just made the grabby gesture again, arms still outstretched. 

“Last night. We uh--talked. About um, gay stuff.”

Thankfully Steve did come closer as he spoke, though the movement was cautious. 

Eddie couldn’t blame him--this shit got you hate crimed after all--but made sure to grab at Steve anyway, obnoxiously patting him like he might disappear. 

Steve smiled slightly, before taking a breath and speaking. “I asked how you knew you were gay. You explained it to me, and I explained back that I thought I was bisexual.” 

Wow, there is a word Eddie had never thought he’d hear out of Harrington’s mouth. 

Fuck maybe Buckley was rubbing off on him!

“You told me that it sounded like I was but that sometimes you just didn’t know until you kissed someone. I asked if--if I could…” Steve blushed crimson, the red crawling across his cheeks and down his neck and holy shit, Harrington had come out to him.

Which of course just made him furious that he didn’t remember it, but hell, at least he was getting a repeat! 

“Ah, kiss you. To. Figure it out.” Steve plowed on bravely.  Eddie’s hands found their way to his wrists and squeezed them lightly, encouraging. 

“You said you didn’t take advantage of impaired men, even if they were pretty.”

And yeah, that did indeed sound like something he would say. 

“I told you it wasn’t like that but you insisted and said if I still wanted to know, I could kiss you in the morning.” Steve finished. He kept looking at Eddie and then away, like he was hopeful despite his embarrassment. 

Eddie took a chance, sliding his fingers down to the palms of Steve’s hands. Tapped and wiggled until he got what he wanted, which was to lace their fingers together. 

“So did you figure it out?” Eddie asked, and sue him if his voice sounded a bit breathy. This was the kind of shit porn and women's erotica was made out of. 

“Figure out…”

“If you like men.”

“Oh.” Steve paused. Then; “I’m not sure honestly, I kinda panicked when I realized you weren’t reacting.” 

Eddie grinned up at him, the look almost feral. “Want to kiss me again to find out?” 

A relieved sigh blasted out of Steve as Eddie tugged him down, a stupid grin breaking across his face. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. 

Then he once again boxed Eddie in, keeping Eddie’s hands in his as he ducked down and pressed their lips together. 

This time Eddie pressed back hungrily, deepening the kiss and letting the electricity of the moment cascade over him. 

Steve, as it would turn out, ended up needing to kiss Eddie several more times, in order to find out if he in fact liked men, or “if I just like you, Munson.”

Eddie, who had never in his life been happier to be a guinea pig, told him to take his time. 

(“Oh shit the pancakes!” Steve said suddenly, ripping his mouth away from where it had been licking a line down Eddie’s neck. 

“Not hungry.” Eddie responded, hands tangled up under Steve’s shirt, one leg hooked around Steve’s. 

“No I had the stove on, shit--” Steve yelped, trying to get up. Found himself laughing even in his panic as Eddie clung onto him stubbornly, like an octopus. “You can kiss me downstairs Munson, I have to make sure the house doesn’t catch fire!” 

“Fine.” Eddie pouted, releasing Steve and standing up after him. “But I want at least one more makeout session before we have any kind of serious conversation about this whole thing!” 

The grin Steve shot him made his knees weak. “Deal.” He agreed, before taking Eddie’s hand and rushing them both down the stairs.) 

[a-great-tragedy]

At my funeral they’re gonna hand out Ouija boards because even when I die, I will be ranting about my special interests and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

[sparks-chaotic-cove]

Hello folks!

Welcome to my blog! It's a chaotic cove of writing, art, brainrot rants, and reblogs of course!

Name: Spark(s) (May also refer to me as: Sunset, Dawn, or Lizzy/Lizzie!)

Pronouns: She/her

Status: In a relationship! To keep my boyfriend's name private, I'll be calling him "Okapi" for now-

Interests:

Fablesmp

Mersmp

Siegesmp

life series

hermitcraft

mcyt

percy jackson

other rick riordian series

warrior cats

DnD

Etc

What I do/create:

Writing

Art

Theories

Characters

Worlds (story worlds)

Jewelry

I am a safe space for almost everyone. No pedos or zoophiles or people who entertain themselves by ruining other peoples' lives with zero care.

But I AM a safe space for Furries, Therians and Otherkins, people of the lgbtq+ community, religious folks, and literally anyone else, honestly. Respect me and I will respect you. Even if you do not respect me I will not go out of my way to make a mockery of you.

Please note that I am uncomfy with demonic imagery- this includes stuff like horoscopes, divination, mark of the beast, ouija boards etc. Zodiac stuff is fine, as well as characters who happen to be demons in a fantasy world! Additionally, I am uncomfortable with making a mockery of any religion. This includes Christianity (and further, Catholicism), various pagan traditions, Buddhism, etc.

If you are questioning why this is, I am Christian.

Keep in mind; if you would not insult a follower of Islam or a Pagan or Buddist or Hindu for their beliefs, do not insult me for mine. I am willing to discuss my beliefs privately, and civilly. I will not stand for a catfight purely based on your hate of others who claim to be of what I believe but by their actions reveal themselves to be unaligned.

----------------------------------------------

Tags:

SparkRambles (brainrot rambles, rambles about stuff, etc)

Sparkart / Sparkdraws(my art!)

Sparkwrites (my writing/poetry blurbs)

Sparksings (me singing)

Sparkrants (me ranting about anything)

Sparksilly (silly posts, pointless posts, joking rants, etc)

Sparkpoetry (poetry-)

Sparkgrows (Garden/plants)

----------------------------------------------

Fandom/archiving info tag(s):

Skyboundlog-Avicane (also just "skyboundlog")

Avicane

Skyboundlog

----------------------------------------------

Reblog tags:

Happybits - Happy videos/images/posts that make me smile

Writinghelp - Writing/worldbuilding tips

Artref - Art references

Quotes - Cool things I like to read, usually short quotes

Gardennotes - Garden related shenanigans and garden tips

Healthtips - Health related tips!

Chat sona archive:

BoundSMP:

Rune - Periwinkle spark (tazikki) Vast - Vincia, magpie holding a periwinkle Marcel - Zori - Scarlet tanager Sylph - Del, red throated hummingbird Armor - Zegari the Tegu Lizard

FableSMP: (over)

Wolf/Fenris - Garnet spark Rae - Vermillion spark Centross (x) - Keripa Momboo (x) - marigold bush / Poppy Icarus - nearby poppy Jamie - brown rabbit/bunny

MerSMP (Mostly over):

Gyn - Meridee Theo - red-stained remora Cella - pink pebble

Siege:

Mara(?)(zenni) - Junetia ("June")

Wild West SMP / WWSMP

Draxas - Cracked Lapis Scorpion (Lazip) Artisan - Axinite the Fennec Beckett - N/A RedBite - N/A

I do not have any other blogs currently! <3

Welcome to the cove, people from to and fro!

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

My EgoPats Meeting the Canon EgoPats (Brought To You by Incorrect Quotes)

Yep, I finally decided that this post deserved to be expanded on. So, to absolutely no-one's surprise, I gave it the ol' college try with memes.

___

[Caliban has just returned from visiting Theory Manor. He’s now ranting to Murdock about WarfPat]

Caliban: Listen to what one of my STUPID doppelgängers did! Caliban: Apparently one of his “guests” ended up dying in his studio, and he offered the body to me. And since we’ve been in-between jobs lately, I was like, “Sure, why not?” Caliban: So, I cooked the best parts, then I went to town. . .and every two minutes, he added salt. Caliban: And it was weird. It almost tasted like sweet potato. Caliban: I asked, “Did this guy eat a lot of candy before he died? Or was he on drugs?” Caliban: And Warf said, “Noooo.” Caliban: Every two minutes, he added salt, salt, sALT, SALT! It was like he wanted to poison me! Caliban: And when I finished eating, he asked, “How did you like the human flesh wiTH SUGAR?” Caliban: . . .HE USED SUGAR INSTEAD OF SALT! Caliban: *starts shaking Murdock by the lapels of his overcoat* SUGAAAAAAAAAAR!!!!!!!

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[The EgoPats are using an Ouija board] The Detective: Tell us. . .is there an otherworldly creature in this house or on its grounds? LeviathanPat: *is right outside the nearest window, but has decided to use his powers to speak through the board before he actually starts talking* ¥ê§. MadPat: Great! Rent is due on the first of the month. WarfPat: Oh, and movie night is on Friday if you want to hang out. LeviathanPat: *genuinely caught off-guard* . . .Wåï†, WHĆ—?!

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Mack: So, for that party I told the guys about. . .do you, uh. . . Patty/DancePat: Oh, are you not sure how to dress for it? Mack: *panicked* WHAT IS CLOTHES???

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[Caliban and The Hermit’s first meeting is going pretty well.]

The Hermit: —and then I said, “I didn’t realize that I would be having some guests. . .for dinner!” Caliban: *laughs* Ah, that’s a classic! Mack: *watching from a distance and ranting to The Detective* —no nO NO, we are NOT dealing with TWO OF THEM!

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WarfPat: Hey, new guy! Trick or ye— LeviathanPat: *conjures an Uno Reserve card* ñÖ

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The Detective: If I have to clean one more bloodstain from this carpet, I’m going to murder someone. Caliban: Sounds a little counterproductive.

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The Detective: I'm not doing too well. Penn/Pennsylvania: What's wrong? The Detective: I have this headache that comes and goes. [LeviathanPat manifests outside the nearest window] The Detective: And there it is again.

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The Hermit: What is toothpaste if not bone soap? Caliban: . . .You are a complete and total treasure. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.

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Penn/Pennsylvania: We call that a traumatic experience. Penn/Pennsylvania: *turning to The Detective* Not a “bruh moment” Penn/Pennsylvania: *turning to The Hermit* Not “sadge” Pennsylvania: *turning to MadPat* And DEFINITELY not “oof lmao”

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Mack: *scoffs* Clearly, you don’t own an air fryer. Clearly. Caliban: *chuckles dryly* I’m not gonna be talked down to by some arrogant, condescending, delusions-of-grandeur-prone SIDE-DISH. Caliban: If you want to insult me, go right ahead. But you have no idea how brutal that’s gonna get. You don’t even know my name! Caliban: *steps closer to Mack, almost getting in his face* I ' m t h e c o m b i n a t i o n o f y o u a n d a c r a z y i s l a n d h e r m i t f r o m a d i f f e r e n t t i m e l i n e .

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The Detective: Define “dream”. LeviathanPat: Ðrêåm—†hê £ïr§† †hïñg þêðþlê åßåñÐðñ whêñ †hê¥ lêårñ hðw †hê wðrlÐ wðrk§. The Hermit: Oh, c’mon! That’s just too dark!

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Ness: Do you support LGBTQIA+ rights? Patty/DancePat: . . .I’m literally a girlypop and exotic dancer?? WarfPat: He’s avoiding the question!

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MadPat: Gatekeep, girlboss, and. . .what's the other one again? LeviathanPat: †hêrê ï§ñ'† åñð†hêr ðñê. ¥ðµ'rê ¢råz¥.

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Caliban: He doesn’t deserve you! If he doesn’t treat you right by now, you’re gone! Ness: *taking a deep breath* I’m gone. Caliban: *nodding and grinning* Now gO CHOP HIS DICK OFF—

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Penn/Pennsylvania: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant. Mack: Well, on a good day, I’m both.

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[The EgoPats are discussing a plan. Ozzie has taken his turn to speak, standing with a whiteboard at the head of the room] Ozzie: Anyone have any questions? Ness: Is this legal? Ozzie: . . .Anyone have any relevant questions?

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The Detective: Are you seriously making human-bacon for breakfast?! Caliban: *looking away from the bacon-filled frying pan he’s using* Yeah. What’d you have for breakfast? The Detective: . . .Nothing. Caliban: *shrugs, returning his focus to the frying pan* I’m doing better than you, man.

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Penn/Pennsylvania: What’s up with you? Mack: What do you mean? Penn/Pennsylvania: You’ve been nice and helpful and considerate all day. What’s your game?

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[The Detective recently griped to Caliban about a recent case. Now Caliban is trying to convince The Detective to do something highly unconventional to make progress with said case.l]

Caliban: DO IT! The Detective: NOOOOO! GOD, PLEASE NO! Caliban: MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE! The Detective: NO! Caliban: JUST— The Detective: NO! Caliban: — D O I T ! The Detective: N O O O O O O O ! ! !

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Patty/DancePat: I can't believe you've done this. . . Ness: I'm sorry, I didn't know—! Patty/DancePat: *on the verge of tears* YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE WHEN I HAVE NOTHING PREPARED FOR YOU IN RETURN! NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE JERK!

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The Hermit: Onion rings are vegetable donuts. Mack: Sure. . . The Hermit: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed. Mack: Okay? The Hermit: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake. Mack: . . . The Hermit: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio— Mack: Jesus, that one is a little— Caliban: *was just passing through but is now interested* No, no. Let him continue

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[A plan involving paranormal investigation has gone terribly wrong, and The Detective is almost out of options]

The Detective: *begrudgingly holding a dark ritual* If you are here, speak to us! LeviathanPat: *slowly manifests outside the window. . .and starts singing “Don’t Stop Believin’.” With each lyric, his voice shifts in a very disturbing way* JÚ§† Ä Ç̆-Ä¥ ßÖ¥! The Detective: *grinds his jaw, having even more regrets than before* LeviathanPat: ßÖRñ ÄñÐ RÄ̧ÈÐ Ìñ §ÖÚ†H—!

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WarfPat: What kinds of sounds annoy you? Ozzie: Are we talkin’ real sounds or imaginary ones? WarfPat: *now interested* Lets say imaginary. Ozzie: Spiders wearin’ flip flops.

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[MadPat is trying to talk killer-to-killer with Caliban. So far, he’s only succeeded in annoying Caliban]

MadPat: Every time I go out there, I feel like I do my best and they don’t! Caliban: *has heard all about how sloppy Mad’s methods are, how much evidence Mad always seems to leave behind, as well as how Mad trapped himself in a fire only to get caught by the police* Let me ask you a very fair question—What do you do successfully? MadPat: . . . Caliban: *raising an eyebrow* QUICKLY. MadPat: *scowls and storms off*

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The Detective: You need a hobby. LeviathanPat: Ì ålrêåÐ¥ håvê å hðßߥ! The Detective: Terrorizing people is nOT A HOBBY!

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Ness: Ducks are better than rabbits. Penn/Pennsylvania: What? Rabbits are adorable. Have you ever been in a fight with a duck? Ducks are jerks. WarfPat: Duck is delicious! Rabbit is all gamey. Ness: We’re not talking about flavor, Warf! WarfPat: Flavor counts! The Detective: Who carries around a duck’s foot for good luck? Anyone? Mack: You wrap yourself in a comforter stuffed with rabbit hair. I’ll wrap myself in a comforter stuffed with duck feathers. Who’s cozier? Penn/Pennsylvania: Okay, but— Mack: NO, NO, NO, NO. WHO’S COZIER? MadPat: Why don’t we just take a rabbit and a duck, stick ‘em in a cardboard box and let them fight it out? Penn/Pennsylvania: BECAUSE THAT’S ILLEGAL! MadPat: ONLY IF WE BET ON IT! Caliban: *sitting in the adjacent room, listening in on the debate. He’s not sure if Snare could get roped into it, because Snare is a hare and not a rabbit, but he’s still holding him protectively* . . .

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Ness: *calling up the stairs from the kitchen* I made lightly-fried fish fillets for dinner! The Detective: . . .Ness, it’s one-fifteen AM. What the hell? Ness: Do you guys want the lightly-fried fish fillets or not? Ozzie: *pokes his head out of one of the guest rooms* Well, I mean, yeah. Ness: So come downstairs before they get cold. Penn/Pennsylvania: *comes out of another guest room* Wait, you just made them? Ness: Yeah, I wasn’t tired, so I decided to make lightly-fried fish fillets. LeviathanPat: *has been watching/listening to all of this through the kitchen window* §å¥ "lïgh†l¥-£rïêÐ £ï§h £ïllꆧ" ðñê mðrê †ïmê.

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Patty/DancePat: When you’re shopping at Lush and another customer comes in and bites one of the soap options because they think it’s cheese. . .I talked to one of the employees about it, and apparently this sort of thing happens way more frequently than you’d think. Mack: Well, if Lush stopped literally presenting soap as deli food, then this wouldn't happen so frequently. Patty/DancePat: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese??? The Detective: . . .Who goes to the deli section of a store and just takes a bite out of the cheese?!

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[MadPat keeps trying to antagonize Caliban, as if THAT will somehow change Caliban’s opinion of him]

MadPat: *pacing the floor in front of Caliban* And I’m not gonna conversate with you! I’m not gonna invest time in— Caliban: *organizing some Black Market stuff on his laptop, not paying Mad too much attention* I think it’s “converse.” MadPat: . . .Huh? Caliban: *rolling his eyes* Just say “talk.”

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Penn/Pennsylvania: I haven't slept in seventy-three hours. Ozzie: Eighty. Democratically elected leader of insomnia over here. MadPat: Bitch, it's been ninety for me. I'm going for an even one hundred. Ness: . . .You guys can be terrifying sometimes.

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The Detective: Oh, you’re back from that outing. What’d you think of that Patty guy? Ness: I can’t remember how we got on the topic of beaches, but he referred to sand as "heterosexual glitter." The Detective: . . . Ness: I don't know how someone so awesome can be so anxious all the time!

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Mack: You’re making fun of me now, aren’t you? Ozzie: What? Oh, no-no-no, Mack. I’d never—*suddenly points past Mack* MACK LOOK IT’S CALIBAN! Mack: *turns around in a panic* WHERE?! [As it turns out, Caliban is, in fact, nowhere to be seen] Mack: *blinks, pretty much frozen in place* Ozzie: *falls to the floor, laughing hysterically*

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The Hermit: Let's all agree that going up the stairs on all fours is actually the best experience on earth. Penn/Pennsylvania: Conversely, going down the stairs on all fours is actually the most terrifying experience on earth.

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Patty/DancePat: Yeah, so, my latest shift at the club was a little rough. Heh. . . Ness: *concerned* Why are you looking up? Patty/DancePat: I need to CRY, but my foundation cost FORTY-EIGHT DOLLARS.

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The Hermit: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder? Ness: Well. . .I mean, it’s frowned upon. Caliban: Yeah, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier? The Hermit: *nodding along* That’s okay, right?

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LeviathanPat: ¥ðµ kñðw whå† Ì’vê rêålïzêÐ? The Detective: Some thoughts are better left unsaid? LeviathanPat: ñï¢ê †r¥, åñ¥w套

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Ness: So they were just using me? Penn/Pennsylvania: I’m sorry, Ness. Mack: *trying to contain his amusement* You must feel pretty stupid right now. Ness: . . . Penn/Pennsylvania: Okay, that’s a time-out. Mack: No, I was just trying to— Caliban: *using his meat cleaver to gesture to the corner of the room* Go sit over there! Mack: *walks away in defeat*

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Mack: *entering the room, unable to see what's going on just yet* I’m going to dunk on you— Patty/DancePat: *is wearing heels AND is currently practicing some new pole-dancing moves* You’d better bring a ladder, then.

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The Detective: *exhausted from supernatural shenanigans* Please, God, just let me have one peaceful day?! LeviathanPat: Öh m¥ GðÐ, ¥ðµ ågåïñ? Gïvê ï† å r꧆, ßµÐÐ¥! The Detective: I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU!

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Penn/Pennsylvania: A riddle for you, my friend! So it’s raining, right? And you pass a bus stop. There are three people there—your most trustworthy friend, a pregnant lady who needs to go to the hospital, and the person of your dreams. However, your smart car only fits two people. What do you do? Ness: Oh, I’ve heard this one before! You lend the car to your friend so they can take the pregnant lady to the hospital, and then you stay at the bus stop with your dream person! Penn/Pennsylvania: Oh, so close, but wrong. The correct answer is as follows—you go home and reEVALUATE YOUR DAMN LIFE! Penn/Pennsylvania: *grabs Ness by the collar and starts playfully shaking him* YOU! BOUGHT! A! SMART! CAR!

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[Caliban leads Mack over to a closet]

Mack: *walks into the closet* Um. . .what’s in here? Caliban: Oh, it’s just—*turns the room’s light off and grabs the door handle* —YOUR DEMISE. Mack: AHHHHH—! Caliban: *slams the door and locks it*

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@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @b-is-in-the-closet