#scare dare

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Isaac Lahey

Words: 3177

Prompt: @steodiscord Steo Spooktober Scare Dare, I wanted to do more, but here we are.

Ao3 link Masterlist

There's No Such Thing as Werewolves

---

There’s few things in life that Stiles can say no to. A dare certainly isn’t one of them. In fact, that’s a guarantee to make sure Stiles does something. His best friend Isaac daring him to walk through the preserve alone with nothing but a flashlight wasn’t going to scare him off. Stiles can’t turn down a challenge. Plenty of teenagers have done it. Hell, it’s almost something of a tradition in Beacon Hills. Kids daring their friends to take a moonlight stroll. 

Because there’s something different about the woods in his town. Supposedly, it’s full of feral supernatural creatures like werewolves and coyotes. While Stiles has never seen any for himself, his father has gotten plenty of calls at the station about it. Snarling sounds and four-legged creatures with glowing eyes chasing them. His dad mostly thought they were prank calls. But eventually enough parents raised a fuss about it that the preserve is now off limits at night. 

Good thing Stiles doesn’t plan on getting caught. He’s going to waltz through the preserve until Isaac tells him to stop. And since he has no sense of direction during the day, Stiles is going to use his phone’s GPS to get back out. He also can’t wait to shove it in Isaac’s face that there’s no such thing as werewolves. His best friend swears up and down that he saw red, glowing eyes when Jackson made him go over the summer. 

Stiles is a logical being, he knows that most animal’s eyes reflect light when it’s dark, making it appear like they’re glowing. Filled with anxiety and adrenaline, Isaac probably only thought they were red. Just fear messing with your brain and making you see things that aren’t there. It makes sense. It’s logical. 

Occam’s Razor, the simplest explanation is often the right one. 

“So how long do I have to do this for?” Stiles asks, getting out of the passenger seat. 

“Why?” Isaac’s head pops up above the car. Leaning on the roof, he drums his hands, “scared already?” 

Stiles couldn’t roll his eyes harder if he tried, “no, jackass. I’m not scared. I would like to make it home before my dad does.”

The cheeky grin on his best friend’s face falls a bit, “okay, yeah. That’s a fair point. I’ll check on you in an hour. That’ll give you enough time in there and plenty to get home.” Isaac gives him a look that he can’t quite read. Almost weary. “Watch your step,” his best friend offers before disappearing back into his car. 

If you’re going to be all worried about it now, maybe you shouldn’t have dared him in the first place. With a sigh, Stiles checks his phone, the digital numbers telling him it’s eleven-fifteen. His father should be home somewhere around two. Time to get this over with. Tapping the button on the screen, Stiles turns on his flashlight and steps into the preserve. It’s quieter than he thought it’d be. Then again, if some giant beast with a beam of light was trampling through his home, Stiles would cease all movement and sound too. He walks on a little mindful of where he steps in case there’s an actual animal trying to sleep. 

Three times. 

Stiles has nearly killed himself tripping over a root three fucking times. The light from his phone is only doing so much and the full moon isn’t making it through the thick trees. Fuck the streetlights, he stopped seeing light from that who knows how far back. Forget the werewolves, if Stiles dies tonight, it’s going to be from his severe lack of coordination. This was such a stupid idea. Luckily, his GPS will be able to lead him back because retracing his steps is going to be next to impossible. 

A racoon darts in front of him. “Jesus!” Stiles shrieks, nearly dropping his phone on the ground when he jumps. He laughs to himself, palm on his chest as he tries to calm his heart. It was just a fucking racooon. Racoons are normal to see at nighttime. Man, he’s gotta get a grip on himself. 

Checking his phone again, Stiles notices two things. One, it’s now midnight. His hour is almost up. Which is great because if he almost kisses one more fucking spider, he’s going to freak out. The second makes him groan in annoyance. A great big, red ‘x’ where his signal bars should be stares him in the face. It’s a good thing Isaac told him how long because it’s not like Stiles can get or make calls right now. 

“Fucking fantastic,” Stiles grumbles to himself. Fuck this, he shines his light around trying to figure out if he should keep going. No. He’s heading back. With no service, if Stiles gets hurt, he’s fucked. His father will definitely kill him if he gets hurt over a fucking dare. Turning on his heel, Stiles scrolls through his phone to pull up his GPS so he can get the hell out of here. 

Not thinking about it, when the page opens, it doesn’t load. “Fuck,” he draws out the worn on a groan, hanging his head back. “Of course the GPS won’t work. There’s no signal, dumbass.” Stiles curses to himself again, stomping- hopefully- back the way he came. Maybe if he gets back far enough, he’ll pick up signal again. Especially because after a minute or two of walking, an uncomfortable shiver works its way down his spine. 

He’s being watched. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stiles scoffs, “nothing is out here but pissed off squirrels because you woke them up.” A twig snaps behind him. Stiles pauses for the smallest of seconds. Hair rises on the back of his neck. He doesn’t like this at all. Stiles walks a little faster, “nope. Not about to get impaled by a deer for you, Is. If I got too close to your family, I’m sorry,” he says as though the animal will understand. “I didn’t mean to. I just can’t see shit.” Maybe it’s mostly to calm his nerves from irrational thought. 

Another twig snaps and something snarls.

Deer definitely don’t make that sound. 

Fear freezes Stiles’ body in place despite his brain screaming at him to run. The sound happens again. A bit softer this time. More like a growled warning. No idea how he knows that except that he just does. Stiles gets the scary feeling that if he takes another step, he’s dead. But he can’t just not move. So against his better judgment- maybe some part of him wants to see if he can fight it off or outrun it- Stiles slowly turns around. No sudden movements, just carefully see- a black wolf with red glowing eyes is staring right at him. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles shouts, turning and running in the other direction. 

A vicious roar sounds off behind him, vibrating his chest. That shouldn’t be that loud. That should not be that fucking loud. His lungs ache, burn in their desperate attempt to keep him moving. To get Stiles away from the danger that is undoubtedly getting closer. He can feel it breathing down his neck. That also shouldn’t be possible. 

If Jackson could see him now. Running blindly through the dark faster than ever and not falling over. He’d make first line for sure. 

The wolf nips at his heel. Not enough to hurt; another warning. How does he just know this? The action was enough to spook him though, causing Stiles to lose his balance. Tumbling face first into the dirt with a hard thud. He groans, spitting out dirt and rubbing his nose. He’s going to die. Stiles is going to die because of a stupid dare. There’s no chance to scramble to his feet to try and run away again. The wolf has a hold of his ankle. Sharp fangs simply prevent escape, they’re not even breaking skin. 

When it lets go, the wolf snorts, nudging Stiles’ leg. When he doesn’t move, the wolf does it again, clear in its intention for him to roll over. He shouldn’t. Stiles is more than aware that he shouldn’t. Wiping the dirt from his chin, he rolls onto his back. No sooner is he flat against the earth is the wolf on top of him. Towering over him with a paw on either side of Stiles’ face, fully encasing his body. 

Without the help of his phone, that fell who knows where, the only thing Stiles can really see are the scarlet orbs watching him. The branches of the trees are a little more sparse, so some moonlight trickles through. It’s not nearly enough. All he can properly make out are those eyes just observing him. Why is the wolf just looking at him? Shouldn’t it be eating him by now? His heart is making a valiant attempt at escaping his chest currently. Stiles doesn’t have the first clue what he’s supposed to do. 

He wiggles, just a tiny bit, only trying to get the twig that’s digging into his spine to move so that he can think straight. Which was exactly the wrong thing to do. The wolf snarls, fangs wrapping around Stiles’ throat, breaking the skin just a touch. Enough that it stings. Frozen. Stiles freezes on the spot. Other than the small tremors of fear wracking his frame, Stiles doesn’t move a muscle. Doesn’t even breathe. He falls completely pliant to the wolf. 

He’s so fucked. 

But the wolf, seemingly satisfied with the submission, releases him at least. Rearing its head back, it howls at the sky. Stiles hasn’t the slightest idea what that could mean. But it can’t be good. Wolves howl to signal their location to the rest of the pack. Did it just tell the others where to find dinner? 

Oh god. 

The wolf ducks its head, cold nose bumping Stiles’ sweat-slick, hammering pulse. Then it licks him. Long tongue brushing along his skin. “H-Hey,” Stiles swats at the wolf. Yes, because he’s not in enough danger he needs to hit the thing and piss it off. “That’s sweat, not real salt. Stop licking me,” he tries to shove the wolf. Let’s try pushing a brick wall next, probably have better luck. “I- I’m skin and bone,” Stiles tries to reason with the wolf, fully processing his ludicrousness. But he just can’t stop. “I’m not a suitable meal, okay?” 

The licking doesn’t stop and the wolf huffs in a way that almost sounds like an animal trying to laugh. Which is even more ridiculous. But then, the tongue gets shorter, the weight on him heavier as the licks turn to nips and a mouth sucking against his skin. What the- Stiles moans, blunt teeth biting the crook of his neck. 

“Not a meal, sweetheart,” a- very attractive- male’s voice chuckles. Now is really not the time to be thinking about how good his voice is. Stiles’ limbs lock up, working much better than his brain. This can’t be happening. “A mate. Mine,” he rumbles, stubble burning Stiles’ neck.

This isn’t happening. 

Yeah, that’s it. When Stiles fell, he must’ve hit his head too hard and is now unconscious whilst being eaten. That’s totally it. His brain providing some weird dream so he doesn’t feel himself being torn apart. 

Another moan tears through Stiles’ throat. The guy pushing his hips down until Stiles’ legs open. Allowing him to grind his very hard dick against Stiles. 

“Not a dream, sweetheart,” the once wolf mumbles, hands curling into the hem of Stiles’ shirt.

Warm fingers brush his skin and Stiles is painfully aware of the fact that he’s just letting this happen. Fangs graze the crook of his neck, biting into his skin until he feels a little trickle, “no,” Stiles shoves the guy’s chest, surprised when he actually backs off. 

“But I thought- you ran,” he says, like that’s an explanation. 

“Yeah, I ran,” Stiles sits up, scooting back for good measure. His hand comes up to his neck, grateful that there’s only a little wetness to his fingers. “A wolf was trying to eat me, of course I ran. I was terrified! You snuck up on me.” His eyes have mostly adjusted to the dark. Not enough to see completely, but he can more or less make out the guy- the very naked guy- across from him. The shadows cover the important bits. But not his face, which as gorgeous as it is, looks extremely upset. 

For no reason Stiles can place, he’s put off by the fact that the guy is upset. And the fact that Stiles isn’t more upset that he was bitten hard enough to draw blood. Stiles realizes that he should certainly be more put out about this whole thing. But he has this weird curiosity. More wanting to know what the fuck is going on than he is concerned about his wellbeing. None of it makes any sense, but that’s all Stiles currently has to offer.  

“No, no, I didn’t,” he scoots barely an inch closer. “I snapped that twig so you’d know exactly where I was. You didn’t see me, so I broke another one.” Bangs flop over his eyes when he shakes his head, “I’d never want to scare you, sweetheart.”

“Okay, that too,” Stiles holds a hand up, “I don’t even know your name and yet you keep calling me sweetheart. You don’t know me.” 

The guy takes a deep breath. Not from irritation, like he’s trying to keep himself in control. The ruby color keeps flickering too. “Theo,” he says, hands digging into his thighs in efforts not to move. “My name’s Theo. And you’re my mate.” 

“How do you know what?” Stiles scoffs, “I don’t even know what that means!”

“Think of it like a soulmate. All supernatural creatures know their mates by scent,” Theo explains. “I snapped the twing so that I could shift and talk to you about it. But then you ran,” the word is growled, emphasized by the glowing red color intensifying. Theo shakes his head again.

“Who in their right mind wouldn’t run from a snarling wolf?” Stiles slaps his thighs, utterly exasperated with the other guy’s reaction. “I thought I was going to die!”

“Running is considered an invitation to werewolves,” Theo states. He must see the crickets chirping in Stiles’ brain because the wolf continues, “think of it like a challenge. Someone wanting to see if the other is worthy enough of being their mate by giving chase. Seeing if their mate can catch them.” 

“So me running away-”

“Kicked in every single instinct I have to claim my mate. It’s done with a bite to your neck. And don’t worry, my fangs didn’t go in far enough.” Theo’s nails dig into his thighs again, “but it’s why it’s incredibly hard for me to just sit here while you’re all the way over there-” okay, he’s like two feet away max- “smelling like someone else.” Stiles can’t even begin to unpack that. “It’s even worse because of the full moon. It heightens everything. But, as much as it pisses my wolf off, I’m not going to force you into anything. Just because I’m a werewolf doesn’t mean I’m an animal.” 

Which is very true. Theo listened to him when he said no. But Stiles can’t shake the feeling of wanting to make Theo feel better. Happy. Can’t shake the annoyance that he’s the cause of Theo’s distress. Even more so that given what he’s seen so far, Stiles is inclined to believe him. He’s smart as hell. Stiles isn’t going to ignore evidence when it’s laid out right in front of him. 

“So, does that mean you don’t live out here in the woods?”

“What? No,” Theo almost laughs, finally looking at him again. “I live in town. Graduated early and now I’m working towards getting my degree online. I wanted to be able to stay closer to my pack. Helps the bond.”

Stiles looks at Theo. Really looks at him. He’s very easy on the eyes. Which is a nice bonus to be honest. And he hasn’t really done anything to hurt him. Stiles honestly doesn’t think he could. Which is just another thing. Throughout this entire ordeal, Stiles had had this intuition about everything. Theo warning him proved to be true. Theo trying to keep himself in control was also correct. Almost like Stiles had instincts of his own. 

Meanwhile Theo is consistently fighting his own to ensure Stiles’ comfort and safety. The wolf finally notices that he’s under the microscope, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

With the way Theo is trying so hard not to do something, this is probably a stupid idea. But he’s finding it hard to care. It’s not like his love life has been particularly fruitful. A hot guy telling him that they’re basically meant to be together can’t be all that bad. Right? “I’m Stiles,” he says, extending his hand to shake.

“I’m sorry,” Theo preemptively says, reaching out and yanking Stiles into his lap. Stiles will absolutely deny the way he squawks from the action. Strong arms wrap around his frame, holding him close. Theo tucks his nose under Stiles’ jaw, inhaling his scent deeply while rumbling in his chest. “It’s really hard to control,” the wolf says, fangs grazing the crook of Stiles’ neck. “Just,” Theo takes a controlled breath and his arms loosen, “there,” he says, letting go. 

Stiles doesn’t get up. Rather adjusts himself so he’s not crushing the wolf’s crotch, “it’s okay.” Theo’s head snaps up at his words, arms locking around him again, brows raised. “I’m not saying let’s run away and be mates. But I’m,” Stiles loops his arm over Theo’s shoulder, “I’m saying it’s okay. I mean, you’re pretty hot,” he quirks his brows, hoping humor as a coping mechanism works for the wolf too. 

Theo laughs, resting his forehead in his neck, “I could court you,” the wolf says. Stiles makes a noise that sounds something close to ‘um’ but it was really mostly a noise. “Dating, Stiles. It’s like dating. I won’t go full tradition on you, but,” Theo lifts his head, their noses brushing, “I’d like to court you. Prove that I’m worthy to be your mate.” 

“I think I’d like that,” Stiles says with a smile. 

“It’s for life, you know,” Theo’s hands tighten around his sides, but he’s whispering to, staring at Stiles’ mouth. His excitement is crystal clear, no matter how much the wolf tries to hide it. 

He pulls a face like he’s thinking about it, “we’re basically made for each other, right?” 

Theo nods, “that’s what mates means, yes,” tone teasing and husky. 

“Then yeah,” Stiles bumps their noses together, “I’m saying you can court me.” 

Smiling back, Theo crashes their mouths together. Stiles would’ve gladly reciprocated the kiss had he not been so surprised. The wolf pulls back, “sorry,” gasping for air. 

Just as breathless, Stiles chuckles, “it’s okay,” and seals their mouths together again. 

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Language! Part 2

[1 - 2]

The speech bubbles are a little odd, a holdover from when I used to draw these small and all on one layer and canvas.

Somehow, some way, Splinter’ll always catch them and make them pony up to the swear jar! Darn ninja dads, I swear, it’s like they can hide in the walls or something

Anyway, thought it would be fun to hint at Splinter having a life and acquaintances from his time in yokai society, in that weird way that parents have when they mention a crazy skill they picked up from their mysterious life before parenthood that their kids have no knowledge of yet. Plus, it’s interesting to think about what Splinter does in his day. He loved entertaining and stardom, I doubt he’d up and quit forever. His voice is the last thing truly his after his transformation, I’m sure he’d use it somehow to keep doing what he loved! He’s also a ninja warrior specifically trained to fight the supernatural, that probably comes with some pretty fun skills!

My mom once stole a boat and sailed to an abandoned condemned island for a whole couple of days, a story which cropped up once and then wasn’t explained until years later, much to my intrigue. She’s so calm and well collected, it was crazy to hear the shit she used to get up to lol

[vampyeur]

:pppppp

[bellamysgriffin]

ULTIMATE SHIPS CHALLENGE - First Kisses [1/7]

[cosmicxd]

Being a DHMIS fan be like

[dcxdpdabbles]

If possible could you do the Batkids summoning the Ghost King on a dare?

It starts with Tim because most insane things do. Kon had sent him a link to a trend, asking him to try it the next time Young Justice got together.

He made the mistake of clicking on the link while sitting near his siblings in the gaming room. The audio is also on full blast because he didn't realize his headphones were out of battery.

Thus while waiting for his turn to play Mario Kart, a loud male moan echoes from his speakers. Tim freezes in his seat, staring at his phone in horrified betrayal, as seven heads snap in his direction.

"Ugh, Timmy? Those are videos you should be watching alone" Dick says with half a teasing smirk. "I know you're growing up and are curious about-"

"It's not like that! It's a summoning circle!" Tim yelps, turning the phone around. On his screen, five male teenagers sit in a circle, each holding hands. Moaning. The caption reads, "Summoning the Ghost King! What's your offer?".

"What the hell?" Jason squints as the teenagers in the video burst into laughter. They jeer and taunt each other good naturally, indicating the random moaning was in jest.

"Oh, I know that trend!" Cullen chirps from the floor. He's been hugging the bowl of chips all night, laying down on his stomach to keep it guarded from the others. "Basically, you try to summon the Ghost King by offering something random. Guess he doesn't respond to human sacrifices or the typical stuff, so people have been getting creative. I once saw a group of girls who burned their training bras and offered the King the ashes. The point is to pick the weirdest thing you can think of."

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard. We have to try it." Steph announces, standing up. She pushes the coffee table out of the way. The rest of their siblings, who weren't as into the speeding game, perked up in interest. "What do we need?"

"Um," Tim scrolls through the comments. "We need four never before lite candles, each placed in the positions of the four directions. We have to sit crossed leg in a circle holding hands and call out to the King with a poem, and at the end, we make our offering."

Harper springs up. "I got some candles! Do they matter if it's scented?"

Tim checks online. "It's not recommended, but it's fine if they are."

"This is idiotic! Attempting to make contact with the Ghost King is far too dangerous. I shall take no part in this foolery!" Damian cuts in, face twisted into a- surprisingly- nervous frown. His hands are clasped tightly over each other while his eyes roam the room looking for unseen threats. If Tim didn't know any better, he said the brat was scared.

"Aw Dami, if you don't want to do a summons, we can play the game of life or something. It's okay to be scared of ghosts" Dick says, placing his hand on the kid's shoulder. He was obviously trying to comfort the kid but it has the opposite effect.

"I am not scared of a mere ghost!" Damian hisses. "I am merely stating we should not bother forces well out of our leagues!"

Jason snorts, planting himself on the ground as Harper returns. She had four different color candles, purple, blue, black, and green. After consulting with Cass- a human compass-she placed them facing the east, west, south, and north.

"Why did you make that disgusting noise Todd?" Damian demands narrowing his eyes at the striking man.

"Just admit you're scared of ghosts, brat. No one is going to judge you for it."

"I said I was not scared of a mere ghost. The Ghost King is far more powerful then-"

"Alright, alright. Damian is too much of a scary cat to play, but who else is in?" Steph cuts him off, a knowing glint in her eyes. The youngest flushes angrily before he marches between the green and black candle and sits with his legs crossed. A nasty scowl is playing on his lips, likely not noticing the high-five Jason and Steph share for getting him to join.

Cass gracefully falls right next to Damian, offering the younger boy a small. His scowl lessens just a little. Cullen crawls his way over, pressing the bowl of chips to his hip protectively once he's sitting up. He ended up between the green and the purple candle, offering Cass a smile. Harper lands next to Cullen, cracking her neck as if preparing for a fight.

Dick does an unnecessary flip over the couch to take the place between the purple and blue candles. Next to him, Steph sits, her knee bumping the blue candle slightly. Jason struts over to sit next to Steph right between the blue and black candle. Duke shares the space with him, giving just a slightly nervous chuckle as Tim and Babs push the black and green candle apart a little to squeeze into though Babs remains in her chair.

"Alright, so the person with the candle on their right side has to light it. Do it at the same time. Once that happens, we join hands and do chat about the poem. Says only one person has to say the words, but if you want, I can send the link in the family group chat so we can all say it?" Tim waits to see them consider it, but Cass excited nodding has him copying the link he found on an online forum. A few dings go around the room as everyone checks their phones. "Now we have to decide on a sacrificial offering."

"We should do our most embarrassing secrets," Jason suggests.

"No, no, our fabulous hair!" Dick perks up, flipping said hair in a dramatic flair.

"It has to be something we all share," Tim says, eyeing Duke's short hair.

The other teenager makes an offended noise. "My hair is fabulous!"

"We offer the gay." Cullen cuts in. The rest turn to look at him as he wiggles his fingers. "Ohhhhhh! We're all fruity~! Spooky!"

"Babs isn't," Dick puts in only to see his best friend shake her hand in a so-and-so motion. He gapes at her before throwing his head back and laughing "We really do flock together!"

"So we agree? The gay?" Tim tries to say seriously, but his lips are twitching too much, trying to suppress a smile. There is agreement around the circle. He gives on a single node before passing around the matches Harper had brought. "How are we going to do this, though. Do we just shout, "I'm gay," or are we giving material things?"

"Let's write our gay awakening on a piece of people," Babs suggests grabbing her bag from where it hands on her chair handles. She tucks out a spiral notebook and a few pens. "I read that summoning needs something physical."

Everyone agrees as they pass along the notebook, writing down their awakening. Tim raises a brow at Damian's "Jon Kent" but doesn't call him out for it. After all, Conner Kent goes under his little brother's writing in his own writing.

He does wonder who Danny Fenton is, but knows better than to ask Cass about her life before the manor.

"Okay, let's do this! On the count of three- one-two-three!" Tim calls, watching Damian, Harper, Steph, and Duke simultaneously lite at the candle. They all hold hands, reading off phones that are prompted up by either their legs or kickstands on cases.

"We call upon the Undead King,

The one who bridges the realms,

The one who wields the Ring,

The one who will lead dies and breathes!"

There is a moment of silence where Tim swears he feels a slight shock along his fingertips, but it passes too quickly for him to care. Seeing as he is the ring leader, he calls out to the air. "Oh great King of the Dead, my siblings and I offer you a list of our gay awakening!"

"Stop, stop!" The youngest yells, leaping to his feet. His eyes are wild, scrambling to a far wall like a cornered animal. "No! He's coming!"

"Coming out the closet, like mama, I like boys, I like pecs

Like the arms when they flex!" Stephs suddenly sings, swaying in her seat. Everyone laughs before joining, and Tim wonders if they should have recorded this when suddenly Damian shrieks.

"Damian, who-"

The candles' flames all turn green as a haunting voice echoes through the room. "Your sacrifice has been accepted."

Tim's mouth drops open as the flames rise into the air forming a portal of liquid green. Familiar green. No wonder Daimain had been so scared. That was Lazarus Pit water. This meant this was the real deal, not just a random trend popularized by stupid teenagers.

Leaping Lizards Batman.

"What-what do we do!?" Cullen yelps as a burst of wind rips around the room, throwing everyone back. A laugh that sounds far too much like the Joker is heard through the portal as everyone tries to get into a fighting position with the wind pushing against them.

A head of snow-white hair peaks out and they are greeted by a laughing teenager. "A gay awaking sacrifice list! That's hilarious!"

"Who are you!" Tim hears Jason demand over the howling wings.

Another laugh, but this time, it sounds like clicking ice cubes is a response. "I'm Phantom!"

Tim has a second to see, wide green glowing eyes before the ghost reaches down, snatches their list, and zaps away.

Cass falls to her knees with a look of horror. "They know"

"I told you this was idiotic!" Damian screams, shaking so hard he looks like he will burst into tears in only a few seconds. Dick rushes over to him, pulling the sniffing boy into his arms. "We must never do this again!"

No one knows what to do in the wake of actually succeeding in calling the Ghost King or watching Dmaian cry from fear.

A ringtone plays from Cass's phone, breaking the ill silence. Tim catches a glimpse of "Danny" with two little hearts before his sister grabs the cell and leaps through an open window with what could only be a squeal.

"What the fuck just happened?" Cullen asks, but Tim can only offer him a shrug.

[solarpunkani]

"Oh no, someone's attracted to the aesthetics of my -punk movement but doesn't know the praxis and history behind it like I do--"

OK. Tell them. Make it a teaching moment. Everyone who's in your movement learned the background from somewhere at some point, maybe this is that point for that person. Give them a jumping off point that they can dive into later.

"Oh but I shouldn't be responsible for teaching baby -punks about the history and the how-tos and--"

OK. Then don't tell them. You don't have to be responsible for teaching people with a budding interest in your group the ins and outs and how-tos. That's fair and valid! It can be a lot of work. Someone else will handle it

"But I'm annoyed that they would try to claim to be part of/be interested in my community without knowing all the details that I know after being in it for months/years/decades, they're dumb, they're posers, they're--"

OK. Then don't engage with them, if it's that bad. Maybe someone else will come around and tell them the history, maybe they'll pick it up on their own, maybe they'll just enjoy the fashion elements for awhile.

"But they shouldn't claim to be part of the -punk community if they don't know the--"

I feel like we have a few options here. People can either talk to them, share the history, share the values, share the praxis. Or they can just chase off anyone who even thinks about dipping a toe in their community, and then wonder why it's dying off later down the line.

I dunno, maybe I'm too naive and patient or whatever. But if people are entering your -punk spaces without knowing The Rundown of what you feel they need to know, maybe being nice about it and informing people instead of immediately assuming stupidity and malicious intent could help you make a new friend. Even the loudest voices in a space had to learn from somewhere, and not everyone has the luxury of being in the space as the History was Happening--whether it's an age thing or a not being aware of the space thing. Or maybe I just don't see what the big deal is behind people hating people who like the aesthetic of something and don't know the behind the scenes history about it yet.

Because I believe in the word 'yet.' No one comes into this world knowing everything about everything, and we're all constantly learning new things. I'm not gonna degrade someone and call them a poser for not knowing what I know. Because if it were me, interested in a scene but getting chased out and called a poser? I wouldn't hit the books and study up, I'd go 'that fuckin sucks, those people sucked' and then avoid anyone and anything having to do with it.

So chase people off and call them posers if you want. But if your community starts dwindling, don't be fucking shocked.

[edenfenixblogs]

I don’t think most non-Jews understand how disappointed we are in the left right now. How completely abandoned we’ve become. How our contributions to progress for other groups have been erased or disavowed or hidden. How the actual tangible things that Jews have contributed to black rights and civil rights are being ignored. How we’re being told we contribute and have contributed nothing.

How we are being told that the world has been kind to us when it never has. As if my mom didn’t grow up getting called a Kike and getting beat up for being Jewish. How I thought I had friends until I caught them saying “xyz was beautiful until Jews showed up.” How people told me I was pretty “for a Jew.” How I grew up hearing stories about bombs being set off in Israel in buses and markets. How I couldn’t even go two weeks without hearing that and how nobody cared and somehow, every time that happened, the whole world became more hostile to me for some reason.

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand what leftists are doing. Or why. I hate that I have to say—of course, I support a free and self determined Palestine (which I truly do)—in order for you to decide I’m worthy of care and support.

We showed up for you. All of you. And the entire movement is abandoning us at best or targeting us at worst. Celebrating our deaths. Saying we deserved it. How are we supposed to trust you ever again? How are we supposed to feel safe ever again?

A very few select people who are in my life have taken the chance to actually learn about and dismantle their own unconscious antisemitism during this time. And I’m eternally grateful for them. But most people haven’t reached out at all. Most people are still sharing hateful things that could get me hurt and they don’t care. Most people Reblogging my posts are still Jews. Because we are alone. And it sucks. You need to be as loud about antisemitism as you are about Palestine or you’re an antisemite (unless you’re Arab/Muslim/Palestinian—I totally get that these groups are also doing damage control in their own communities just like Jews are).

But we are all in tremendous pain right now.

This moment will pass. And when it does, I will remember how many people let me down. I will remember that when I needed support more than I’ve ever needed it in my life, people fucking vanished. They pretended violence against my people wasn’t happening. They ignored and rewrote the history of Israel to suit their own narratives.

You don’t know what it feels like to be hated this much for opposite things. PoC hate us for being too white. White supremacists hate us for not being white enough. Europeans hate us for being middle eastern. Middle easterners hate us for being western/European. Everyone hates us for being settlers but continually kicks us out of their countries so that we have to settle somewhere else.

I saw a post going around from a Black person who said that the reason he and his fellow black activists go protest for Palestinians instead of fighting antisemitism (as if it’s a binary, which it’s not) is that Jews don’t show up. Muslims and Palestinians do. And honestly? Fuck that guy. Heather Heyer died standing shoulder to shoulder against racism in 2017. [CORRECTION: When I first wrote this post I was under the impression that Heather Heyer was Jewish. I want to correct to avoid spreading misinfo. She was just the first (and incorrect) Jewish civil rights activist I thought of. However there are plenty of other actual Jewish civil rights activists to choose from. If you have reblogged this post from me, please feel free to add a link to the permalink version of this post with my correction to your reblog.]I have devoted substantial time and effort and money that I don’t even get paid a lot of because I don’t get paid a living wage. I have continually reached out to PoC people in my life of all religions to ask how they are doing and what I could be doing to help more—both for them personally and how they would best like me to help their community. I have elevated their voices at every opportunity. And not one person I checked in with has done the same for me or for my community.

And it’s bone chilling. It’s awful. And it’s even worse knowing that when it’s over, people will want to go back to normal. They won’t apologize. They won’t self reflect. They’ll just live their lives, maybe a little more aware of how much they hate us and completely indifferent to the harm they’ve caused us. How disposable they made us feel. And the thing is…it’s not hard for you to know. You just have to ask.

Too many people are cowards. Too many people care about looking good than actually learning something or making the world better. And to those people: you should be ashamed of yourself.

I don’t have any hate in my heart. Truly. Not a drop for any group of people. But I have a tremendous lack of trust that anyone would actually lift a finger to keep me safe.

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

I’ve been highly confused as to why Michael “deeply openly thirsting on Twitter about David Tennant for half a decade” Sheen is half-in half-out the closet but apparently Wales is absurdly homophobic lmao what the fuck how is a country the size of New Jersey that much of a hater bruh we out number the shit out of you

[suspicious-scarecrow]

2016 -> 2022-2024

i was 14-15 when i made the old designs

[themisterhip]

Happy genos (/:''>)/

[sqlatoon]

pearl and marina on that damn splatfest stage

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

So, I cannot show support to Palestine at my university (flyers for protest, the colors and the flag, you get it...) because it's "encouraging violence and antisemitism" but when my university was tagged with antisemitic symbols, they did NOTHING. When the students union was targeted with threat of violence and their office was destroyed, covered with neo-nazis symbols, they did NOTHING.

The Neo-Nazis student association (which has been multiple times reported for their hate-crimes) were distributing flyers at the entrance yesterday WITHOUT ANY ISSUES, because they support Israel.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[prosperdemeter2]

I know everyone is all "I hate that they're pushing the everyone forgives the Buckley parents" agenda, including me, but also I think we're just accepting something at face value that doesn't need to be accepted and missing what could be really good character nuance (and something so much more miserable and realistic in some parent-child relationships): Buck hasn't forgiven them, he's just stopped expecting more than they'll give. Maybe expecting isn't the right word, maybe I mean hoping for.

He's stopped hoping for his parents to be anything more than what they will always be... and that in itself is such a hard, heartbreaking, detail if you stop to think about it.