#this post is not meant for y'all weirdos

[sanswstrk]

emma d'arcy you're so #real for saying this. THEY get it!

[fritterbat]

Y'all seemed to be enthusiastic about my Tav when I posted art of her smooching Gale so I thought I'd share my full character design for her too! (I changed her color scheme since that previous art anyway) Here's my problematic weirdo squid girl, illithid Tavs forever 🦑

She actually neither went through ceremorphosis nor romanced Gale in-game, those are both part of my post-game storyline haha... she missed her half-illithid powers so much that after tying up some loose ends back home in Menzoberranzan and being accepted to join the Society of Brilliance, she asked the Emperor to tadpole her again so she could become a mind flayer. Her current project is working with Omeluum to create a substitute food source for illithids so they don't have to consume brains.

few more pics of her and some further nattering under the cut ->

here's what she looks like without clothes (that sounds so spicy. it's a mind flayer it's got no visible bits) and what she looked like in-game! I always used the Bloody Plum dye for her clothing while I was playing, but somehow landed on dark teals instead for her future self

Vennet's my first Tav and I played the game mostly blind so I didn't know what her arc would be going in, but I've developed her a lot over time. I had originally meant to romance Astarion but she ended up being... not the right person for him, and I had to break off their relationship bc I couldn't imagine it being anything other than a toxic disaster LOL, but at that point I was too far in the game to start anything with anybody else and she'd already rejected Gale's love confession...!

so I just ended the game with No Bosom Companion 😔 but as I was later thinking about my future storyline for her and decided she becomes a mind flayer after all, I suddenly realized that she'd be perfect for Gale. So she falls in love with him post-game (and post-tentacles!) and they have got some Issues to work through but eventually it's cute :3 (I'm maybe trying to write a fanfic about their romance, watch this space 👀)

[huramuna]

a maid's folly - chapter 8.

dark aemond x maid ofc

minor aemond x floris baratheon work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

follow & turn on notifs at @huramuna-fics for my fic postings!

summary: a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

we're in the home stretch y'all! after this is the epilogue and then this story will be at an end! thank you for sticking with me through my second fic ever and my (hopefully) first completed one.

this chapter may seem a bit rushed in places but i promise its for a reason! aemond going through the grief of losing rosemary and it is taking a huge toll on him to a point where he really isn't living, but rather, living his life through snapshots. i hope i exemplified that correctly!

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut, power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

(don't fear) the reaper - blue oyster cult • its been so long - the living tombstone

Death was an odd thing for Aemond. He’d never experienced it really, not in any capacity specific to him. 

The death of Laena Velaryon changed his life in many ways, technically, but the idea of her death, her corpse floating to the bottom of the sea to become fish food didn’t stir any emotions within him.

But now— that feeling… It was odd.

“Brother, there’s been an accident,” Helaena had said. 

The next words that came from her mouth were garbled as his ears rang, a high pitched throbbing echoing through his skull. He must’ve said something alarming, as Helaena, who usually didn’t wish to touch or be touched, wrapped her arms around him as his legs failed, wobbling like a newborn fawn’s. 

He didn’t really hear much of the substance of what Helaena said– there was no way around it: Rosemary was dead. She was… dead? Dead.

“Her… body? Her belongings?” he muttered, his one eye glassed over in a wet film of tears. Gods, when was the last time he cried? 

“Burned. They found her… charred near flea bottom. She’s gone to the field– away from the rats and stags…” 

“Flea bottom? W– what was she doing there?” Rats and stags?

Helaena shook her head.

“I want her things– all of them. Have them brought to my chambers.” he grunted, unlatching himself from Helaena’s hold and beginning to pace. He looked over, seeing her discarded nightgown and swiftly picked it up.

The servants gave odd looks once all of Rosemary’s things were cleared out of her chambers and brought to Aemond. They looked at him knowingly– but he couldn’t care. The opinions of sheep meant nothing to a dragon.

His chest clenched as he thumbed over a blue blanket, Rosemary’s ever familiar scent entangled into the fibers of the quilt. Aemond didn’t know much about Rosemary’s mother and only scarce details she shared about the Vale, but something about the blanket resonated within him. Sitting near the dying light of the sun as it receded over the horizon, he traced the stitches outlining the depictions of little lambs and nightingales, flitting near the moon and stars, braided into an image that felt so very much like her. 

He expected her to slip through the passageway any moment now, murmuring apologies about her lateness and throwing herself into his open arms, peppering kisses along his skin– 

She couldn’t just be dead, could she? They were plaited within one another’s being, he hadn’t asked her for a dance at a ball, nor taught her how to properly wield a blade– he didn’t even have the chance to introduce her to Vhagar, to take her flying. Aemond imagined her face, lips parted in awe as they would skim the stars above the clouds. 

He wanted to share all of it with her, share more parts of him that he thought were recused so dreadfully far into the depths of his chest– he wanted to know her better. He should’ve gotten to know her more, know every freckle and stretch mark on her body and be able to map them without eyes, able to discern what she was thinking just by the wrinkle of her nose. 

He just needed more time– more time with her, to know her more. It was already such a beautiful thing to be so intimate with someone like they had been, but there was a block. A small barrier that kept them from being linked wholly and irrevocably. 

Not the sort of walls Aemond had within himself, no– those were self-imposed, defense mechanisms against further toil to his psyche, erected ever since Driftmark. Rosemary had a barrier that wasn’t of her own volition, but rather circumstances that she was dragged into. He placed her quilt onto his bed for the time being, eye roving around the room in thought. 

His eye landed on a vase near the corner of the room. It was filled with wilting, ugly, yellow flowers. They had been bright and sprightly just days before, shoved into his hands by his wife-to-be. Not his Rosemary, of course– Floris.

Floris.

Floris.

Brow furrowed, he walked to the flowers, plucking one of the petals and snapping it between his fingers. It left an ugly, powdery yellow-brown residue. 

The barrier revealed itself. 

–

Floris was sitting in her solar, feeling elated. The wedding was coming up soon and everything seemed to be perfectly aligned– not more bumps, hitches or maid-shaped indiscretions. 

She leaned back in her chair relaxing for a mere moment before the door flew open, causing her to jump. Her eye caught a flash of white before he was in front of her, kneeled down, clenched fists on either side of her chair.

Aemond, her betrothed. His hair was a mess, his one violet eye wild.

“Hello, my betrothed,” he hummed. Heat broiled off of him like a roaring fire, the veins in his neck popping, his vessels running through his calloused hands thrumming. “I’d love to have a chat with you.”

Floris backed up on her chair, her throat going dry. “A-Aemond– this is highly irregular,” she stammered, her tongue feeling heavy and thick in her mouth. “What… would you like to chat about?”

He shoved back off of the chair, sending it and Floris skidding backwards. “I’ve heard that my poor sister’s handmaiden, she was so beloved by Helaena, has passed,” he began to pace, his arms behind his back, fists clenching and unclenching with barely contained rage, “That is quite sad, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes, quite.” Floris whispered, her gaze going to her hands. 

“Look at me.” he stopped his pacing, his one eye trained on Floris as she avoided his sight.

“... Aemond– you must… understand,” she continued, “... please.”

“Look. At. Me.” he was upon her again, standing this time, like a foreboding cloud. He just needed to look into her eyes and he would know– no need for a trial, no need for a jury or judge. Merely an executioner.

Her head raised, blue eyes meeting his one violet. They were rimmed with tears, her pupils looking like maddened slits. “I-I had to!”

It was all the confirmation he needed. His hand slammed forward, a dagger sinking into the velvet of the chair backing, just an inch from Floris’ head. “Tell me what you’ve done.”

“It… it wasn’t me– not… not all of it, truthfully,” she admitted, her voice marred with choked sobs.

“You’re pathetic,” he spat, “Tell me, who was the intelligence in your little scheme, since it obviously wasn’t you– you don’t have the gall.”

Floris’ throat bobbed as she cried, “T-That horrible man– L-Larys Strong. B-but, I didn’t… I didn’t kill Rosemary– I just… wished to scare her away. If she’s dead– it was his doing!” 

Aemond stared at her for a long moment, unblinking. “You will leave, Floris. You will leave the keep and go back to your father, tail tucked between your legs. Remember this, I am merciful in this only, consider yourself more lucky than Larys,” he backed up, dislodging the blade from the chair, lifting up Floris’ sobbing face by the chin with the point of it, “You will leave and speak nothing of this– if I ever even hear a whiff of her name coming from your mouth, I will kill you. I won’t grant you such a kindness of life again,” he nicked the soft skin of her chin, small drops of blood beading. He stowed his dagger and walked towards the door, “Consider this betrothal dissolved.” 

–

The Keep was bustling with activity for the week after Floris’ sudden departure – rumors swirled of her getting cold feet, her integrity as an intact maiden coming into question, and that she was fraternizing with Larys Strong. 

Larys, having caught wind of this, had some foresight that his nefarious doings had been uncovered. He returned to Harrenhal, effectively escaping Aemond’s retribution. Aemond was a bit agitated at the rat slipping through his fingers– but there was always time. Harrenhal was only a dragon’s ride away, he would get his soon enough. 

It all felt like a blur to Aemond, the tumultuous months after Rosemary’s death. Rhaenyra’s arrival, the trial, the execution of Vaemond by Daemon, the dinner, the toast– his father’s death, his brother’s crowning. Helaena woke up screaming many nights, demanding that the tunnels be guarded more sufficiently and she didn’t go anywhere without an escort– it was obvious to Aemond that she’d seen something that frightened her deeply. 

Aemond was to be an envoy for his brother’s cause– or moreso, his grandsire’s. Anyone with eyes could see that Aegon didn’t wish to be King, nor was fit for it. Flying to Storm’s End– he wished that his grandsire would’ve sent someone else instead. He had already disgraced himself to Borros Baratheon, and had no desire to see Floris again. 

It was raining, as was typical of the Stormlands. Vhagar growled uneasily underneath Aemond. “Umbagon gīda, uēpa riña,” he murmured, reaching up to pat her scales. Keep calm, old girl. “Nyke ȳdra daor jaelagon naejot sagon kesīr, tolī.” I don’t want to be here, either.

He landed outside of the ramparts, quickly seeing why Vhagar had been agitated. A small, adolescent dragon was fidgeting anxiously in the courtyard leading up to the castle. He didn’t recognize it, but guessed it was likely one of Rhaenyra’s brood. 

Stepping into the building, he saw him. Little Lucerys Strong– or Velaryon, if he was to be proper. 

“Prince Aemond,” Borros, the damnable oaf he was, shouted, “I assume you have come to ask for my banners for your brother, have you? Seems that Prince Lucerys has beat you to the punch, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, did he now?” Aemond hummed, his arms behind his back as he glared at Lucerys– who was no older than sixteen, “May I remind you that it ‘twas my brother, Aegon, who was crowned before the masses in the Dragonpit? My brother, the King Aegon, who wears the conqueror’s crown, bears his name and wields our ancestral blade Blackfyre?” 

Borros grunted. “That is all well and fine– but what is House Baratheon to do with Valyrian names and titles and swords? I can’t very well pick my teeth with Blackfyre, now can I? What do you have to offer to me? I suggest you speak quickly, as you’ve already disgraced my house once by sullying my daughter’s reputation.”

Anger seethed within Aemond, his fist clenching and unclenching. “We have my brother, Daeron, to offer as an option for betrothal to one of your daughters.” 

Lucerys shifted uneasily next to Borros, his hands fiddling with a piece of parchment.

“Lucerys has already offered himself and his brother, Jacaerys, to marry two of my daughters. Your brother, Daeron, is no older than fourteen. One of my daughters could marry Jacaerys within a fortnight– even if Daeron was older, how am I supposed to know that your side of the family won’t spurn us once again?”

Fucking hell. 

He felt shamed by the boar Borros– all the while, Lucerys couldn’t help but to stifle a chuckle. Just as he did at that damnable dinner. He felt his blood boiling and he had to stifle the urge to mount Vhagar and burn this castle to the ground.

The next hour was a blur. He remembers mounting Vhagar after Lucerys mounted his little whelpling– he remembers… the storm, the droplets feeling like shards of ice against his skin. His heart was beating in his ears, his taunts in High Valyrian to the boy prince sounding like echoes from someone else’s mouth. He felt like a puppet to his own savagery, the entire chase pulling from something animalistic and cruel within him, like the song of a swinging blade.

It was a sickening sound, truly. The sound of Vhagar’s jaw snapping that poor hatchling to pieces, little Lord Strong scattered over the bay. It was a sound Aemond wouldn’t forget. 

He had to imagine that Rosemary was ashamed of him, wherever she was in the afterlife, if there at all.

–

Aemond had become a shell of himself, two years of the war passing by like granules of sand filling an hourglass. The humanity of him recused back behind those walls once more, his body working through the autonomy of the primal fire that coursed through him.

He didn’t feel alive. 

He wasn’t, really.

Quite a few assassination attempts on the Red Keep were thwarted from Helaena’s plea for increased security. Guilt swirled in Aemond’s gut– it was repercussion. Punishment for what he’d done, what Vhagar had done.

He went into a self-imposed exile to Harrenhal, citing it as a military strategy to hold the fortress– but in reality, he felt he was a dead man walking. He may as well add the ghosts and curses of the ancient stronghold to his list of crimes.

The only moment of clarity he’d had was when he executed Larys. Aemond dragged the crippled man from his hiding hole in Harrenhal, and let Vhagar’s flame bathe him. It wasn’t a sizable meal for Vhagar, but satisfying nonetheless, for a moment– before he felt nothing once more.

The witch– Alys. She flitted around Aemond, whispering in his ear like a buzzing fly. He did lay with her, but would never spend inside of her. It felt like he was just going through the motions, trying to stoke a fire within himself that was long snuffed out. She didn’t feel anything like Rosemary– she was bony in all of the places where his Rosemary had been soft. After they would couple, he would send her away before she even had a chance to wipe herself off.

At night, he dreamed of her. Rosemary. Her warm hands cupping his face, murmuring sweetness to him, like a siren’s song, like the call of the void.

Then Daemon came upon his ugly bloodwyrm. 

A duel, then. 

“We’ve both lived too long, uncle.” he shouted, mounting Vhagar. 

“On that, we agree. You’ve lived too long since you killed Lucerys in cold blood.”

“Mayhaps I will arrange a meeting for you two, then, uncle?” 

It was a battle of gnashing teeth and flames, the glint of Dark Sister seen– 

His death, he was staring it in the face. His death had a face, too– Rosemary. She whispered in his ear every night that they would soon be together. This must’ve been it, her ghost telling him of their reunion soon to come.

He opened his arms, welcoming his uncle’s thrust of his blade– 

Darkness.

It was cold, cold… waves washing over him like he was bobbing across the surface of the lake.

Rosemary– where was she? Was he dead? Please, let him be dead. Let the nightmare be over.

The washing of waves came over him more, the tide ebbing and flowing over his body, pushing him. His head throbbed and he couldn’t move his arm– his extremities were cold, but his head… felt lighter. 

Opening his one eye, it was clouded in red. Red. Oh, good. He’s gone to the Hells. 

“Ser?” a voice called, sounding so far away. “Oi, Mare, come help me. He’s bleedin’ out.” 

“Gods, he ain’t look too good, Jon. Think he’s gonna kick the bucket before we even get ‘em off the stones.” 

“Leave… me…” Aemond somehow croaked out, his voice sounding like he had gargled rocks. “I’m meant… to be… dead…”

“Seems fate got more in store for you, lad,” one of the men said, “I’d be damned by the Seven themself if I leave you here to die on the shore. I ain’t going to Hell without trying, eh?”

Aemond felt two pairs of arms lift him up, their murmurs coming in and out of focus. 

“We’re gonna get ya to the town tailor, lad. Ain’t no maester from the citadel, but she can right a stitch better than any– and ya needin’ a stitch or two. Miss Marigold will fix you right up.” the other said, still not totally convinced.

The jingling of a bell was heard– all Aemond could see still was red. “Marigold! We’ve got a live one for you– he’s hurtin’ real bad.”

The scent of lavender wafted over him like a balm as the seamstress stood over him. She made a choked sound, a sob– and a finger wiped the blood from out of his eye. His vision came into focus and the ever familiar visage of his love– she was there. She was real. She was… alive? Alive. 

“Rosemary?”

“Aemond?”

A small, quiet voice was heard. “Mama, who’s there?”

[squiddokiddo]

Continuation from this post here:

I'm so glad y'all liked the first part, hopefully this one will be good too, it's angst with some hurt/comfort, sibling fluff and 100% feels.

Thanks to @tracybirds and @mrmustachious for looking it over and beta reading it for me.✨

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

It wasn't long before a light knocking broke their spiral of doom.

"Hey Squirt, you ok?" A cheery voice called from the other side of the changing room door, the one they'd been dreading, the first and last voice they wanted to hear.

"You seemed a little upset back there, and I just wanted to check in with you. Can I come in?"

They knew they wouldn't be able to avoid him forever.

"Yeah..." Squirt's response coming out a lot more mangled and scratchy than they'd hoped.

Gordon pushed the door gently, laying eyes on the sopping wet, chlorine covered mess that was his little sibling, squished up against the wall. The kid was so ashamed, they didn't even look up as he entered.

Grabbing the big bath towel from the bench, he made his way over, draping it over Squirt as he plopped down on the floor, wrapping his little bud in a soft cocoon. His hands remaining clenched to the fabric, he tried his best to meet Squirt's gaze under all those soppy strands of red hair.

"Hey." He started firmly. "I know what you're thinking..."

Squirt's eyes darted away anywhere they could escape their brother's, they started to well up again.

"I'm sorry..." They whimpered, tears spilling over their cheeks. "I let you down, I- I- you- I mean..." They stumbled over their words, searching for the right ones to patch up the damage.

Gordon pulled his sib a little closer, still clutching the towel like a big net to prevent the little guppy from escaping.

"You were amazing."

Suddenly, the weight lifted, the air was clear and they could breathe. Squirt lifted their head to look at their big brother, wide eyed and relieved. As another batch of tears slid down their cheeks, Gordon released Squirt from their soft prison and took their face in his hands, gently wiping away the damp around their eyes.

"Third place?? That's awesome!!" He beamed "I'm so proud of you, kiddo!!"

Squirt sniffled. "But, I- I should've done better. We trained for months, I'm an IR aquanaut, my coach is an olympic champion, how..." They trailed off. "You've given me so much and I failed."

Gordon sighed. "You're also still learning. How old are you? Twelve?? You were up there with fourteen and fifteen year old kids, they should have had a huge advantage but you still beat 7 of them!!"

Squirt shifted uncomfortably in their towel.

"And it wouldn't matter what happens, you could never let me or the others down." Gordon tilted Squirt's gaze towards him to drive his point home. "I am proud of you."

Here came the tears again...

Gordon pulled Squirt into a tight hug and just let them cry it out for a moment, their face buried in the crook of his shoulder, rubbing their back gently. They needed it.

"I love you, you dork." He muffled, his face smushed into the towel. Squirt replied with an incoherent mumble but Gordon knew what they meant.

"Right!!" Gordon released from the embrace, grabbing the towel and pulling it over his sib's head. An outburst of protests and giggles came from underneath as the aquanaut ruffled up the kid's hair with it. Squirt emerged from the makeshift guppy trap, a mess of wildfire now occupying the top of their head.

Gordon, sensing the possibility of revenge, had already gotten up and made his way towards the door again. "I'll let you get changed." He blew a mock kiss as he backed out of the room. "I wuv you!!"

Squirt scowled but couldn't help cracking a grin. "I love you too, weirdo..."

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

[anguishedlurker]

Don't Shoot; It's me! No, the other guy! (#38, fake body swap)

HI Y'ALL welcome to my ecto-imposion fic! I'm the writer of course and my wonderful artist was @astravis , and @thesilentbard plus @dragonsdomain he;ped me out with betaing! Check them all out! Buckle up, because this is just the first chapter! And maybe look at the ao3 posting

Of things Danny should have predicted, Skulker and Technus teaming up one day was going to land pretty high on the list.

It all started so normal, too! Getting multiple ghosts at once wasn’t uncommon anymore, and Skulker appearing? Must be a day that ends with Y.

Technus, though...

“I’ll pelt you yet, whelp!” Skulker bellowed, having been ineffectually brained with the remains of a lamppost.

Technus was thusly absorbing the lamppost's remains into his suit, adding yet another object that would qualify as a taser in the right circumstances.

“AND I, TECHNUS, WILL USE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO-”

“No, really, do you ever shut up?!” Danny cut him off, meanwhile diving behind the remains of- ooohhh this was that vegan place Sam liked. He was going to hear about this one for weeks.

“Your disrespect remains immeasurable, child.” Skulker growled, not wasting time in obliterating what was left of the building.

“YEAH, WHAT IS HE? CHOPPED LIVER?”

Danny didn’t pay this mind, throwing some potshots at the both of them as he skittered away for new cover.

“He’s a mecha pain in my- AAA”

We interrupt this smart comment for debris! Debris; A mark of your failure to protect.

Debris wasn’t a new threat, but regardless? That was going to bruise.

Danny was ready to punch them to paste barehanded if it’d get this fight to stop. Skulker already had a weapon making shield borderline painful to maintain against blasts, and with Technus in tow couldn’t be trusted to not get a random power-boost.

Meaning this needed to end, now!

However, “now” would have to be sometime after Technus’s blasts stopped slapping him down like an especially annoying kitten.

“Ah, finally showing cowardice whelp?” Skulker taunted, lazily aiming one of his guns as Danny darted somewhere over an alleyway.

“I prefer to call it intelligence!”

“RUNNING WILL NOT HELP YOU HERE, PEST!” Technus borderline giggled.

Clearly, Danny thought as a piece of roof exploded behind him.

… That one might’ve been that weirdo occult shop that was trying to set up without him noticing. Couldn’t say he’d miss it, if nothing else.

It was really starting to look like “damage control” meant doing some damage himself to cut this short.

He was absolutely going to hear it from Sam once he was done here, as it wasn’t like ecto-ice was easy to clean up. (God knows what's IN that Danny!)

Somewhere in the distance the Fenton GAV wailed, a bad sign for all participants.

So… one shot to do this, maybe two… Eh. He’s had worse odds before!

One last sacrificial rubble pile to buy a second, aaand-

“I DO BELIEVE WE MUST CUT THIS ONE SHORT! SKULKER, IF YOU WOULD?”

“It's a pleasure to use this new toy.”

Danny didn’t even get time to throw an icicle at them.

The rubble exploded, and then Danny exploded, flung across the street like a sack of potatoes and making several things give an upsetting crack on landing.

Screw bruising at this point, he’d be lucky if all of this managed to heal before Monday.

Note to self: Never ever let Technus Skulker pair up ever again.

“FASCINATING RESULTS!” Technus beamed as Danny groaned his way onto his feet.

“Your move, whelp.” Skulker growled, gun pointed at Danny.

“That little toy? Ha, it barely even-!”

And see, there’s many things about Danny’s powers that would never be properly explained to his friends. How intrinsic they all were by now, above all else.

A running start and pathetic hop into the air didn’t actually mean much for flying; by all accounts Danny could go from zero to sixty in a standing position.

So, the raw humiliation of that pathetic hop- intended to be a full assault launch- landing him in a kneeling position took a second to process.

It was just so impossible.

The metal on Skulkers helm twisted to a smile as the gun gave a shrill whine.

Technus giggled as he absorbed a car into his already overburdened monstrosity of a mech, clearly thinking this fight was done.

The GAV siren had never been so loud.

There was really only one choice: Run. Run for his life.

The street lit up behind him, adrenaline carrying him much faster than he had any right to be on foot.

“RUNNING AGAIN, WHELP?” Technus shouted, much too close for Danny’s liking.

“That’s Skulker’s thing!” He shouted back, at a total loss for anything witty.

“I’ve done no such thing as run, child!”

“I THINK HE MEANS THE TERM WHELP.”

Oh good, yes! Get distracted!

“Your thievery of my vocabulary will not go unpunished; yet, for now, we have our prey-”

“UNPUNISHED? WE ARE ALLIES! TO RAISE YOUR HAND IN VIOLENCE AGAINST ME NOW WOULD-”

“Not right now you imbecilic-”

The blasts behind him were slowing down immensely already, buying him a slide around a corner with enough lead to shove himself between buildings.

Still, even with this he wasn’t exactly well hidden.

His options, in this fine back alley, were… A broken mirror, two cardboard boxes, and a dumpster.

…

The dumpster was uncomfortably moist as he shoved himself in and closed the top, and the smell- is this the nasty burger dumpster??

Slowly the town map in his head adjusted. Eugh… Desperation carried him farther than he thought.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE’VE LOST HIM!?”

“The shot must have suppressed his signature. The tracker will be borderline worthless unless we are on top of him.”

Oh, good! Truly, a fair trade for his powers! And once he was done being sarcastic, probably the single blessing he’d get out of this.

“I WOULD CALL THAT EVEN LESS THAN BORDERLINE.”

“Your worthless insistence on semantics is duly noted.”

The bickering continued into the distance, followed shortly by the GAV wailing and his father pointedly screaming.

“Rotten ghosts, molecule by molecule would be too good for you!”

“Phantoms not re-appearing on the radar, but keep an eye out regardless. Who knows what cloaking tactics it’s come up with this time. To the right!” His mom warned, getting fainter and fainter (in the wrong direction) as the GAV sped after Technus and Skulker. Or wherever the altered signal was leading them.

One would think it’d only work the once...

Danny was left to contemplate the situation in silence. Nothing would get done in the dumpster, sure, but hey, uncomfortably moist? More like comfortably hidden.

But beyond that being cowards talk, he reeaallly couldn’t sit there and trust that his parents or even Valerie would pull through on this one.

Okay, well, first task; Phase out of the dumpster.

An action that should be on the same level as ‘flex your jaw’, and yet, Danny was no less uncomfortably moist in sauce juice by the end of his attempt.

The whole thing was unpleasantly reminiscent of the Fenton crammer, minus the shrinking. Powers suffocated to the vaguest wisps in the back of his skull, borderline hallucinations to his futile attempts to use them.

Still stuck in the dumpster, Danny mentally conceded to plan B; Phone a friend.

Tucker was, unfortunately, out at a tech event for the weekend. Which meant it needed to be Sam.

Sam, who was stuck appeasing her parents today in exchange for the stunt with Ms. Hoffman last week.

Somewhere in the distance shots sounded off, indicating that someone had found his two enemies.

Danny didn’t have high hopes as he popped open the dumpster lid and shakily dialed. First of all it’d require Sam to already be out of the dreaded social situation, and secondly it’d mean he got a stroke of good luck if she picked up either way.

His anxiety collapsed to resignation as the ring tone meandered on, leaving him to ignore the layers of irony and humor in his ringtone having been changed to Mystery Skulls’ Ghost.

Pink blasts flashed in the sky from somewhere distant, meaning either Vlad got involved or Valerie had shown up- one more likely than the other.

“Hi! If you don’t know who this is, you shouldn’t have called anyways, and if you do and I didn’t pick up then I’m ignoring you specifically and your voicemail better give me a good reason to call back. And Tucker, if that’s you, I’m not paying for that. You know I’m not. Stop asking. Leave a message after the-”

Danny didn’t wait any longer to hang up. No voicemail would ever be secure enough to risk actually leaving one, and leaving one wouldn’t even speed up the response time.

An especially bright pink and green flash washed over what was probably half the town, and a large crash sounded from several different points in the area.

Now down the phone a friend option, Danny elected to revisit and modify plan A by throwing his leg over the side of the dumpster instead.

You know, the lame way to exit.

None of his bones liked him as he hit the ground, the wind in his metaphorical sails really not keeping up with what he needed to be doing.

Even with the self deprecation heavily suppressed, the situation didn’t really brighten outside of the dumpster. How, precisely, would boxes aide him here? Box Ghost was still pretty peeved over the whole cardboard-boxes-dissolve-in-water solution...

A thoughtless attempt to transition between forms left a suspiciously glass-like popping noise to ring in his ears and leave him fallen face-first onto the ground.

The most intact piece of mirror sat across him, dimly processing as unsafe for workers to be near as the gerbil controlling intelligent thought in his head took a smoke break.

… Seriously, why not have just tossed the thing into the dumpster itself? It’s right there!

The gerbil returned from its smoke break as Danny took in his reflection somewhat, the wheel powering his thoughts creaking back to life.

The crammer had slowly stripped him of every Phantom attribute until only Fenton remained, while right now the present cause to all his woes seemed to have merged his clothes straight down to his hoodie and left every other feature untouched.

It was… weird.

And deeply irrelevant, actually. He needed to either try calling Jazz (ugh) or haul himself home to see if he can’t glue a solution together (different ugh).

Time to shove himself back up to kneeling and pick the gravel out of his teeth (hrng).

While he was at it, it might be a good idea to start a list of cameras that’d need their footage wiped. Even if Fenton’s clothes weren’t incriminating he just didn’t need-

There was an ecto gun by his head, the safety giving a click as it was turned off.

“Would you like to beg?”

He knew that voice- by god did he know that voice. Valerie had to be on that hoverboard just out of his field of view.

He had to have missed some sort of movement while slumped forward by the mirror- it’s not like he wasn’t in enough pain for reality to start blurring.

But that didn’t help, did it? Because he was readily identifiable as Phantom to a girl who wanted half of him dead(er), with zero powers or wit to throw at the situation that wouldn’t just get him shot faster.

But what would help!? She didn’t have any interest in listening to Phantom, barely had any in listening to Fenton, though her lethal intent would at least be lower!

Somehow, someway, the gerbil in his head clipped through the wheel's geometry and resolved to never return.

“Don’t shoot, Val, it’s me! Danny!”

The gun got MUCH louder in response

“Well, Danny Phantom, I think knowing my name-”

“N-No! Fenton!”

He could hear the dial-up noises in Valerie's head, he himself stuck on trying to process how royally he just screwed himself over.

“Let’s suppose, for just one second here, that I don’t believe that.”

“L-look Val, belief doesn’t have much to do with the fact that I’m like, super harmless right now. Literally what would I gain by telling you that?”

He could feel her eyes stare even harder, dissecting his identity in this new light.

“Time.”

Well, he had a good run…

The alleyway promptly exploded, leaving Valerie to skitter off to who knows where as she swore worse than any adult Danny had had the displeasure of listening to.

Danny himself was left hyperventilating in the dust, promptly hopping back into the dumpster and burying himself in the worst effort towards hiding he’s probably ever managed.

“I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE HIGHLY UNLIKELY FOR HIM TO HAVE HIDDEN HERE.”

“Disappointing, and unexpected. The chase is far more important, but what distracted her?”

“I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS TO MATTER. YOU MAY HAVE SAID PRACTICALLY ON TOP, BUT I THINK AT THIS POINT IN THE ALLEY IT’S SAFE TO SAY HE’S NOT-”

“Move it or lose it, socket-licker. One of our high value targets is running.”

“YOU ARE ONE TO TALK, SHORTSTOCK. INSULTS ASIDE, I WAS GETTING THERE.”

Skulker’s “No, you weren’t. And you’re lucky we’re working together you-” got fainter as the two continued to completely miss his idiot self hidden just under the surface of two tonnes of food slime.

This was now the second time Danny was in the same dumpster, and honestly? He STILL didn’t want to leave!

He couldn’t cave to the desire this time either- trying to out his identity to Valerie in a last ditch effort to save his hide was officially going to go down as one of his dumbest decisions ever.

He couldn’t even think of anything funny his friends would mock him with this time. It was stupid all the way down.

Feet to the ground, eyes peeled for enemies- gone for now.

Time to unbend his pride and beat his mile run record while trying to call Jazz. Hey, multitasking!

He was going to lose his mind over this one. Even without his personal missteps this was bad.

“Hi, this is Jasmine Fenton! Hopefully I can get back to you soon, but for now, please leave a message after the-”

Click.

Two options, he pondered as he did a running slide past the corner grocery store.

One: Jazz was doing tutoring and had her phone off.

Or, possibly, two: Their parents loaded her onto the GAV and didn’t take no for an answer.

He didn’t hear her earlier trying to scream advice in an attempt to circumvent the danger their parents posed to everyone, but was it even a Tuesday for her to be busy with tutoring? Or maybe she does tutoring on Thursdays…

None of it mattered obviously. He had to get to Fenton Works ASAP.

There wasn’t strictly much that could help him, but he couldn’t imagine anything going even more wrong by using the splitter to try and get some part of him functioning again.

At worst, he’d have two people to drive the Speeder so he/they could gun it to Frostbite and see what could medically be done.

This totally didn’t gloss over every logistic and science issue ever, no sir!

And even if it did, what kind of options was he supposed to come up with right now!?

One more cut through an alleyway and Danny was in the home stretch towards Fenton works.

This moment was of course the same one a massive crash and crunch of metal sounded off a block away. Maximum.

Before he’d had the saving grace of a hiding spot. Now? Not so much! All it’d take was for Skulker or Technus to remember that they could fly above buildings and-

Well there went his survival odds!

The second after, Valerie flew above their heads, shooting down at them even as they launched onto his street.

And, for as distracting as she was, he couldn’t say his odds just got any higher.

Danny nearly took the door off its hinges trying to get in faster than anything could shoot at him, barely in before the street was awash in pink and green.

Just because he knew he couldn’t get blamed for this (mostly) didn’t mean the sense that he was so dead over this stopped creeping in.

“I, TECHNUS, WOULD LIKE TO REMIND YOU THAT-” Technus screamed, caving the door in with a broken lamppost, Technus himself soon followed suit, seeming to have shed most of his mecha well before the door- though he was losing more in an effort to get in with ease.

“If this is about the extended car warranty-!” Danny shouted back, trying to bolt for the basement. Or literally any of the house defense buttons- screw that they’d target him too!

“I WOULD NEVER SINK TO SUCH LEVELS, PEST!” Technus cut him off, the severed mecha parts bursting into and spreading wires and metal throughout the house in seconds.

Skulker didn’t waste time squeezing through besides Technus, grinning even as he was focused solely on the street outside.

“The basement.” Was all Skulker said before the option was gone from him, tangled in too much metal and wire to ever think about it again.

Danny wasn’t going to get time to think about this one, bolting upstairs instead as the door frame exploded into pink.

“All of you-”

Valerie interrupted herself with a gunshot to Technus.

“, rat bastards! No respect for-”

Skulker, now.

“anyone or anything! This is a house!”

Danny, now. He could feel it burn through both his shirt and suit even as he passed the last few steps to the second story.

Thank god for adrenaline.

Dashing down the hall as Technus and Skulker both roared into action, he performed the best running leap he’d ever managed to grab and pull the chain for the ladder.

Of course, having leapt for this privilege in a house meant for his dad meant he kept sailing through the air as the ladder slammed down behind him.

That was fine! Valerie was still distracted, just roll and climb! So easy.

So easy to corner himself on a roof with no options except to jump if he wanted off.

The fight continued on beneath him as he stared over the side, his world totally silent otherwise.

Grasping for inane details in the hopes one would matter, he saw nothing of use.

The day was bright, and clear. The town was quiet. If he turned slightly, he could pretend the wake of destruction didn’t exist.

But then he’d be ignoring the wires spilling out his front door, a shell of a car deposited in the center of the street- seeming to host most of the mess as a battery.

Valerie swore worse than ever below.

Nothing could help him right now. He was stuck either standing or jumping.

Or well, maybe he could at least do something about the gaping wound in his side… that might be good.

Slowly and carefully he stripped his hoodie off, noting that the hole was smaller than he’d been mentally giving it credit for.

His side still dripping as he dropped it unceremoniously, he realized that this was a dumb plan and that he couldn’t do anything anyways.

His side wasn’t a spot he could tourniquet. Pressure only helped so much in ghost form, as even with bones he was notably more squishy(?) than a normal human.

The fighting paused for one brief moment, before getting ten times worse, Valerie inadvertently teaching him new slurs for ghosts.

Danny looked over the edge of the building again, reaching for his pocket with a prayer.

…

“Hi, this is Jas-”

Click.

…

“Hi! If you don’t know-”

Click.

…

…

“You have reached this 🌟Too Fine🌟 of a voice mail-”

One last click off, phone thusly tucked back into his pocket.

Danny stood alone over what was closer to a three story drop than a two story drop (stupid vaulted ceilings…), and quietly sat on the edge as the fight below went silent and stayed silent.

Hand to his side regardless of if it’d help, he watched the car-battery-wire mess power down and simply waited.

Sure, he could jump, but the adrenaline was winding back down. He was already hurt, bad, in multiple ways. Valerie could fly and right now he couldn’t. There was nowhere on the street to hide and even if there was plenty of places the street over he wouldn’t get that far.

He was dead meat any way he went.

He could hear the ladder clack behind him as Valerie hauled herself up.

“What a surprise! All nice and ready for me.” Valerie huffed, immediately standing at the ready with a gun. Danny only just copped a glance before turning back towards the view.

Odd, no suit nor hoverboard. Maybe Technus had managed to hit her just right and made it shut off.

“Yeah. They go through the portal at least?” He asked, barely looking back as he gripped his side a little tighter.

“And here I- what? Um. Yeah, to my knowledge.” Valerie stuttered slightly, the earnestness of his question seeming to trip her worse than Danny’s previous bomb drop.

“Good. Lock the portal when you go back down. My parents will probably open it up by next week, but hey! Stops everything for now.”

Her steps towards him slowed to a crawl, and he could sense the caution and the suspicion even as she continued regardless.

God, he was really doing this. It occurred that he could still just shove himself off the edge, but he couldn’t think of anything that could possibly solve. Guns can be pointed over roof edges.

“Uh. Thank. You? B-But no uh, tricks or-”

She stopped by his side, gun still pointed as her eyes tracked across the roof for the surprise that simply must be coming.

“Valerie, I’m really sorry you think I could ever hurt you, but I’m out. Injured and done. It’s you or it’s splatting on the pavement. Dunno how much bounce back I’ve got left right now.”

“Any last… uhm-”

This is a super stupid way to die. But he’s pretty sure he’ll be a grease stain if he jumps, which is even stupider.

“I guess... Tell Sam, Tucker, and Jazz not to beat themselves up over it.” He hummed, finally looking at Valerie again.

He wondered how much of this mess the town behind him was seeing.

The gun shook silently before lowering and turning away.

“You are him, aren’t you?” Valerie asked softly, gun already dropping from her hands.

The gun dropped with an uncomfortable clatter as Danny gave the least shaky and uncomfortable smile he could manage, Valerie's eyes not even seeing him as she fixated on his stained hoodie.

“Phantom was never this sweet.”

Valerie clearly hadn’t focused on the words, so lasered onto her revelation that Danny’s brief twitch was entirely missed.

He couldn’t even be insulted right now; there was a certain amount of venom their fights had always had.

Silence extended further as Valerie only barely looked back up at him, still shaken.

“Thanks, I think. But uh. What now?” Danny asked, genuinely not sure. He just had to accept that insults to his other half could be addressed later.

How a reveal would go had always haunted him slightly, and this was probably a better ending than most of the realistic ones.

But even then, those fantasies always ended when she understood.

Valerie snapped to at the question, standing straight and returning to her facade of confidence.

“Helping. How’d they even do this to you?”

“Technus made Skulker a new gun, I think. It goes downhill from there.”

Carefully, Danny slid himself back onto the roof. He was struck with the sense that sudden moves would still get him killed, somehow. This was.. Too easy, almost.

Anxiety or not, the pain was also holding him back.

“Figures that those assholes would do this. Don’t suppose there’s an obvious way to fix this?”

“Not really? I mean… there might be something in the basement to help, but outside of that it’s not like I’ve got options beyond to sit here and suffer. Maybe see if Frostbite knows anything.”

“The basement, huh… Oh, thaaat’s why Skulker growled something out about it. Maybe we can-”

The GAV started wailing again, suddenly.

The offending vehicle was only streets away, and if he focused hard enough he could almost hear his dad yelling about having fixed something or other.

Farewell pain, hello adrenaline!

He was going to be so sick after today. He could just feel it.

“Bail!” He shouted, running back towards the ladder.

“What!?”

“Do you trust my parents not to shoot on sight!?”

The look of fear was immediate.

“Oh, god! Bail!”

In total agreement it was borderline a fight for the ladder and to get down to the first floor.

The wires hadn’t disappeared, leaving them precariously stood on the mess next to the kitchen.

“What’s your plan, Danny?! It’s their house!” Valerie hissed, eyeing him and the wires cautiously.

“WINDOWS ARE ALWAYS FAIR GAME!” He screeched, launching into the kitchen.

The voice of doubt in his head pointed out that it was incredibly lame for all his best executed moves for today to be so fundamentally stupid in nature.

Regardless, lifting the stand mixer and tossing it through the back window in one single uninterrupted motion, punctuated by the shattering of glass, was probably the smoothest thing he’d do today.

“YOU COULD HAVE OPENED THE WINDOW-”

“NO WE COULDN’T HAVE!” Danny yelled back, already launching himself through the opening regardless of potential cuts.

“WHAT?” Valerie screeched back, lingering before following suit.

“The Fenton Family Home Defense System locks the windows upon activation, with or without shutter activation! Even when it turns back off they’re stuck until you do a manual unlock!”

He was already bounding through the backyard, sailing himself over the fence without a second thought.

“Danny, in what world does that make sense!?”

Valerie was close behind.

“The one where my parents designed it! And the one where you’d then be stuck in a house with more weapons than people!”

“Danny, your parents are still nuts for locking-!”

“Losing battle! Pick and choose! Keep running!”

Valerie’s laugh was clear, like bells as they continued across town.

The stress was obviously getting to her- yet it was almost infectious. This was insane!

Eventually, well after they’d gone from a residential area back to business, he was yanked into a new back alley, Valerie still grinning as she caught her breath.

“And what about the door?”

“Also locked.”

She missed a beat before speaking again.

“So, what, not even the doors work until you do a system reset? That’s stupid.”

Danny had to laugh at himself right now.

“No, I just don’t remember the passcode! That door is pretty normal.”

“But you can’t leave without a code from the inside?”

“Normal for my house!” He giggled.

They were left with wheezing laughter over a near miss that wasn’t that funny to begin with.

Eventually Valerie’s hand left his shirt collar, moving to push him back slightly. Intimacy time over.

“Okay, Danny. Your parents are nuts and we don’t trust them not to shoot. Where are we going?”

“Well I could always hide in a dumpster again, but outside of that I don’t have any ideas. Sam’s busy and Jazz… well, is it Tuesday or is it Thursday, actually?”

Valerie gave him the blankest look imaginable for his question.

“It’s Saturday.”

… Well then!

“Okay, well, Jazz is tutoring. Probably. So she’s busy.”

“And Tucker, since you seem to trust your friends with this one?”

... What?

“Uh. At a tech camp somewhere in-”

“Got it. The basement might help, you said?”

Right, back to topic.

“I cannot stress that ‘might’ part enough. We’ve got a lot of weird stuff down there that’s come in handy in really stupid ways before.”

“Okay, well, that’s not great. You got an idea on how to get your parents out of the house?”

“Not in the slightest.” He admitted, shrugging as he spoke.

“Superb. Just fantastic. Okay, maybe we could camp at my place for an hour? At least until... or. Hm.”

Valerie finally lost her focus on him, looking to the side in thought.

Danny had to give credit where it was due that they were screwed in a different way, now.

Valerie’s fast turn saved his hide so he was certainly much farther than he thought he’d get, but there wasn’t much they could throw at his parents to make them disengage with the mess of wires Technus left behind. It was now valuable research material, at best.

Delightful.

“My place is probably for the best. Christ, that’s a distance to go.” Valerie muttered.

“Not to interrupt, but yeah actually. How are we getting there? Is your suit broken, or…?”

“Broken is a strong word. It self repairs, but yes, I’m grounded right now. And though I care about you, the huntress getting seen towing Phantom would not be good.”

There it was again, slighter than before but still present. The slight dissonance in how the situation was getting viewed.

Easy to shrug and move on though, right?

He probably shouldn’t.

“So… not to-”

“Look, we need to start moving. You’ve got a hat or something?”

“Man, I wish.”

“Okay, okay… shitty question, but Phantom can fly. Obviously. What can you do right now…?”

Uh.

“Uh. Nothing? Look, the blast- I think… Sorry, but what do you think happened? I just-”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed a touch in preemptive insult.

“Calling my explanation the abridged version gives it too much credit! I just want to make sure you understand what happened, and what you’re asking??”

Best cover he could’ve used, honestly.

Valerie cringed in on herself, obviously realizing something.

“Uhm, sorry, I didn’t mean to… Look, sorry. I know being in his body is probably really weird? But my place is over in Elmerton, and it’d be really helpful if one of us could… I’m sorry.”

She’d dodged the real question, but still managed to give the answer Danny needed.

In… this body…?

Oh. Oh boy.

[candiid-caniine]

so I've seen this going around lately, and I want to talk about it. I didn't want to add discourse to OP's post because I didn't know if/how much was welcome.

this is a very hot button issue for me. general tw for this post: mention of abuse within kink dynamics.

so. y'all all know that I have some very strict limits on this blog. I have a boundary against play with cis men. I have a hard limit on misogyny and patriarchy kinks being in my space. and I'm not alone in that: a lot of other queer ppl I know (mostly wlw, nblnb, t4t, and intersex) have the same limits.

for me it's trauma rooted. all dynamic abuse I've ever experienced has been at the hands of cis men, so I don't deal well with them. and growing up in purity culture as a closeted afab has ruled out misogyny/patriarchy kink. as a result, I am very avoidant of anything that rings of these dynamics...which happen to be overrepresented as dominance in modern pornography.

it is very hard as a t4t to find porn that isn't influenced by this binary, which usually plays itself out as:

to be feminine is to be weak, and vice versa

the submissive partner is the bottom

the dominant partner is controlling outside the bedroom

submission is holy for the feminine and deviant for the masc

dominance is holy for the masculine and deviant for the femme

existing power balances in society are utilized in play

the submissive is to be protected

the submissive is the dominants responsibility and not vice versa

aesthetic perfection is expected of the sub

and many more.

so to say "signs of domination in your social circle" may mean different things to different people. I'll be honest, I don't know what OP meant; this post was awhile back in their blog -- I'm just using this as a way to talk about some of my own hangups, hence why I made my own post instead of responding.

and yeah. if someone in my social circle showed signs of being controlling outside the bedroom, magnifying social inequalities in play, deeming submissives weak and demanding of protection, or expecting aesthetic perfection of submissive seeming people....would I call that evil? um. fuck no.

but I would recognize it as something I can't be a part of. I would form resentment if treated accordingly: as something inherently weak, defenseless, naive, and feminine due to my preference for submission, or hell, for being fucking Asian. cause yeah, that happens.

that said: if someones treating every sub, or every person they decide is submissive, like that...they're a fucking weirdo. their problem.

but there's another side to this. one that affects people who top, people with penises, and people who present as masc who...

may derive euphoria from aligning with a binary role in a kink setting

may genuinely share a desire to be protective and controlling with their partner/s

may face othering or prejudice for seeming like an angry trans woman or a violent butch or an angry Black person

are already only tenuously accepted in queer spaces due to masculine presentation or AGAB or race

so what's to be done?

simply put, don't put your trauma or your bias onto others. I really think that's the answer.

if a particular type of dominance triggers you, remove yourself from the space. unless it's your space, in which case set boundaries.

if you find yourself side eyeing people of a certain AGAB or presentation more than others, consider that this is a you problem.

understand not everything's about you. subs can be just as selfish as doms. just because your friend likes to dominate doesn't mean they want to Dom you. just because they Dom in a way you wouldn't want to be dommed doesn't mean they're wrong.

fuck off with your kink shaming. flat out, unless you are speaking about dynamic abuse or any other type of abuse, you have no grounds to judge the way other d-types or s-types roll. unlearn your purity culture.

learn a thing or two about top drop and/or Dom drop.

and for God's sake...in this hellish 2024 pride month where trans rights are backsliding and other lgbtq+ rights will certainly follow: educate yourself. cishets didn't invent kink. leather daddies have been doing this for decades. lesbian pulp fiction featuring s&m dates really far back. hell, ancient Greeks have art documenting s/m relationships, and y'all know they were gay as shit.

cause I have an inkling that in queer circles this comes from the decrying of evil, icky cishet culture in kink. you are entitled to your boundaries, but your bias and your judgment and your disgust can damn well be kept to yourself. my partner deals with enough guilt over their preferred role, and enough crisis about whether their masculinity comes off as creepy, without neopuritans exacerbating the issue.

and that includes me. I've had to unlearn this shit from the ground up since coming out. I thought coming out was the unlearning, but no: you are not immune to internalized bias. and your masc, amab, intersex, and Black and Brown queer siblings are not immune to the harm you may be perpetuating.

anyway. I'm stoned AF. and prepared to turn off reblogs for this post. lol

[s1urpjuic3]

Hi guys, it's me again, here to give my 2 cents on a another fandom.

Now, I felt the need to do this because as I pleasantly scroll through some Jarley content, I see 'Shipping a toxic couple is gross' 'Jarley is weird' 'Their not even together anymore' (If I could find the original post, I would so tag whoever made it because TODAY I CHOOSE VIOLENCE'

This literally might be my first ever (Omg they're so cute together as a kid. THis is my childhood right here. Jarley. Now, I respect and love her and Ivy as much as the next, but as a child, I didn't see the toxicity and the violence of Jarley, all I saw was my favorite cartoon villians, and it's just carried along to who I am now.

The main flaw about this is that THIS. IS. FICTION. Not even like, Game of Thrones or King of the Hill fiction. THIS SHIT WAS ORIGINALLY MEANT FOR FUCKING KIDS! Mf an 8 year old don't gaf abt or know about no abuse and shit. (Unless they come from that type of household, in which cases I completely respect that) Like, it's no reason that people should be this pressed over CHARACTERS that you literally can write them to act different. The writers of DC comics decided that 'Hey, this is how we want Joker, and he's never gonna change or treat Harley right' They could just as easily wrote it another way, henceforth, fanfic writers writing it a different way.

It's not about them being toxic it's about them matching each others' freaks. Everyone acts like Harley isn't fucking insane either like be so fr. She was gonna break eventually either way. The freakyness is rooted deep down inside her fr fr.

I personally/secretly wish their relationship was more like Cleo and Deuce from Monster High (Yes, I'm comparing them to someone again, I can't think of anyone else rn) Where; Yes, the Joker is mainly still and evil shitty Batman-obsessive weirdo, but he was always nice to Harley, and Harley was just like "Radical dude" (Lmaoooo) But in all seriousness, a plot where they both mutual respect each other, make realistic mistakes and hurt each other, but work it out in the end would have been great.

But I love the fact that the writers touched on the topic of abuse. I feel like not enough comics/media or anybody really talks about things women go through, or they romanticize it. I don't think anyone who ships Jarley wants to take away from what she went through. You can love them together and still not like what The Joker did to her. These feelings don't have to be mutually exclusive.

Anyways, this is too long again. Love y'all open minded Jivey fans. To the rest of y'all though? Eat dick and ☠️

(Side note: I reblogged a post on my page that talked about fans making Poison Ivy a one-dimentional character by making her entire personallity about Harley so HA SUCK ON THAT)

[sthaboutlove]

This post is specifically for maoam and sasukesun.

First, maoam. I keep blocking you because I don't want to see your heteronormative version of sns. You're sinking deeper and deeper into your delusions, and I try to just ignore the hypocritical and extremely uncomfortable posts you keep making because you're a weirdo. Unfortunately, as you've noticed, I'm not very good at it. Nevertheless, I've only addressed you directly two times. All my other posts are directed at sns fd on Tumblr in general.

Minakushi and sns aren't even slightly similar in their dynamics. Borusara is objectively made to parallel sns, and if you deny that, then you're just mad that Sasuke doesn't have the role of the girl. You're saying Sasuke and minato aren't similar and you're right. But if you think Sasuke is more like kushina then you're even more stupid than I thought.

Your analyses are very detailed, yes. But they're still meaningless since you like to twist facts to fit your agenda of girly twink Sasuke and masculine buff alpha Naruto.

Kishimoto made a lot of fanservice scenes using Sasuke, yes. But most of the examples you used weren't meant to be seen that way. You're the one obsessed with fetishizing and sexualizing Sasuke and trying to make it "canon".

Now, sasukesun. For some reason you get so worked up when someone has a different opinion. When did I say that Sasuke chased Naruto? I just had the nerve to suggest that he might be actively trying to date him and actually show he's interested rather than just being ..... A passive pretty doll who does absolutely nothing and waits for Naruto to realize on his own he likes men and fight his "internalized homophobia". I also think that he would chase Naruto if their roles were reversed. I know, I know, you're against the idea of Sasuke doing anything, you think he's only goal-oriented when it comes to his family and Naruto apparently isn't important enough to him in your opinion.

Funny, you're so mad about the "Sasuke self-inserts" post when I didn't even mention any names. Just listed all the objectively one-sided and weird headcanons those people have. But if the shoe fits....

And, no, I wasn't the one who sent you anons. I try not to interact with your circle at all. Why would I waste my time on you? It's obvious there's nothing that can be done to make you see how hypocritical and weird y'all are. Yes, there are other people, who have different opinions and hate the way you portray sns. Shocking, I know, you think everyone just accepted your delusions.

I'm not going to keep arguing with you because it's useless. You'll keep trying to make a heterosexual couple out of sns, soon you'll forget Sasuke was supposed to be a man and the ship was supposed to be gay. I just express my opinion and if you don't agree with it you can always block me.

[genericpuff]

to sum up the last post for anyone who doesn't feel like reading an essay tonight

ok this is the pettiest i will be about this because obv if i didn't care i'd just move the fuck on, and i SHOULDN'T care, so let this be my last little 'hoorah' on this with a little added note that i think all of y'all should consider (whether you enjoy my content or not)

rachel has all the freedom to make this comic and make more off it than i'd ever dream of making off my own work (which is like, damn, you go girl, get that coin), that's her choice to do so and none of us can take that way from her nor should we feel like trying lol literally, she's not obligated to care about what I or anyone else thinks because a lot of us are people who just spend way too much of our free time talking about this comic.

but it's our time to spend. we don't tell the fans of this comic how to spend their time discussing it and gushing over it, we can't take that away from you either, more power to you if you can love this work unconditionally.

so that said, i also have the freedom and power to do what i want with my time. even if that means sharing opinions you might think are a "stupid use of my time" or a "waste of my life" or whatever have you. maybe it is stupid but it's my time and i'll use it however i like 🤷‍♀️ especially when it's in my own space on my own blog, it's not like I'm DM'ing or tagging Rachel with my opinions, she doesn't need to see them and I wouldn't consider it in good taste to do that because it would be genuinely awful of me to think I'm entitled to forcing my opinions down RS' throat. I'm just a chronically online weirdo on Tumblr making shitposts and expressing myself in my own way. It's not that complicated.

What's ironic (and kinda shitty ngl) is that we know people have a tendency to send Rachel or her mods "proof" of the criticism from the anti/ULO communities as a way to "do good by her" and notify her of it happening. and all I can say to that is like... really? you know RS is sensitive to criticism so instead of just leaving well enough alone, you send it at her or post it in her own areas where you know she can see? what's the point of that exactly? you want to protect her from harsh criticism or shitposts, that's all well and good, but y'all are doing the complete opposite of that by taking opinions on the internet not meant for her eyes and... putting them directly in front of her eyes. as much disrespect as i may sling at rachel on a daily basis here, she doesn't deserve that - leave her alone, leave me alone, yeah? (‾◡◝)

[meneswings]

ermm.. first post?

anyways, hi! i'm mene. and i came on here todat a day later after i made my account to tell y'all, why y'all should NOT interact with @biumun ! bro's a total weirdo cause he was telling my friend @kenny-kenns that he was jerking off to his ocs.. like tf.. :sob: he was, most likely, tryna flirt with him when they literally JUST meant.. if you don't believe me, Kenns has the screenshots to prove it! if anyone sees this, and wants me to give another reason, then lmk. :3

[candy-bun-bun]

Cassidy Posting!! Not the host.

Y'all I cannot with Roblox. The only thing it's good for is horror games at this point. The servers of any other type of game literally just fosters homophobic and transphobic assholes. Especially Gacha Online by the way. Met some annoying people trying to educate me on MY Transgender experience. I literally had 'Trans Woman' in my description and these weirdos had the nerve to say: "The way you phrase it makes you sound like a Trans Man. So you're FTM."

Like wowww I didn't know an Amab person could be FTM?????/Huge sarcastic Joke

Also they called a human a mutt because of their description??? What immature assholes. I'm glad those kids literally made a private server so their friend wouldn't be called a MUTT.

Also if you're happening across this post and you are a person who does this kind of shit;

"Kindly" get the absolute FUCK OFF THIS SYSTEMS BLOG. I will not entertain anyone of the sort. You. are. a BULLY. No the person you make or try to make cry is NOT "sensitive" Y'all are literally the reason I exist so fuck off.

Anyways after that long winded rant. Roblox, don't censor LGBTQIA+ labels because words meant to explain these identities are not offensive or harmful.

[captain-stretch-nuts]

Ok y'all this is a long post bear with me lmfao I promise it's worth the read

Picture it. Saul of Tarsus has participated in the completely unjustified extrajudicial execution (stoning) of St. Stephen and generally spent his time persecuting a cult of symbolic-flesh-eating weirdo hippies, wherever they hid from the watchful eyes of Caesar, who the great Satan that was Rome declared in a status of Superstitio rather than Religio. This meant there was no validity to their beliefs in the eyes of the state and Saul took it upon himself as a Pharisee to quash emerging Christians because Superstitios were not allowed at all in the Empire.

So on and on he goes opposing and harming cultists who, despite what the State had told him, seemed rather inoffensive and even noble in their aim of a crazy idea like loving one another. All of this guilt of participating in the execution of an innocent man is culminating on the road to Damascus when (here comes the hot take) my man pops a nice big hashish cake to make his longass walk in the desert bearable and ohhhhh brother. Oh boy. It's hittin. He starts seeing mirage shit dehydrated dry mouthed af in the heat and he faces his greatest trauma of being a progressively less-willing killer. He faces Prime Hippie. Jesus.

Saul is brought to his knees from the exhaustion. His inhibitions that hold back his regrets have dissolved into the sands of his footsteps on the path. He bears the full weight of what he has done and sinks into the inevitable conclusion of what he must now do, which is to keep their faith alive in himself, even if it meant Rome would throw him in jail for it (which they did), even if he had to change his name because he could not even withstand the pain of Saul. Thus, he became Paul. Sure, Paul was the Roman version of the name, but if you take into account his writings and insistence on original sin and general brokenness of humanity, you realize he is projecting his guilt into his writings.

Dude had the absolute worst trip of his life and recorded his conversion from his perspective minus the chemical help mention because let's be real, the desert just Be Doin That hallucination shit all on its own. His interpretation of Christianity was still through the eyes of a Pharisee, and he got a little fast and loose (severely misinterpreted the religion of early Christians; Islam has HUGE criticisms against him for this) with the beliefs.

Now that's in today's Bible. And the absolute worst Christians on earth hold Paul up as a paragon of their beliefs when what he was, by his own admission, was a flawed and broken and evil man who never knew just how much he had to change the story on himself to keep from going completely insane from the guilt of pelting a man with stones until his body lay still in the ground half-buried.

[buttercuparry]

the author of the post I recently reblogged has made a few untagged posts on how they only meant dudebros putting down sansa and was just speaking up against it. Idk if this really happens. Maybe it does because there really are posts about sansa being useless and all. Frankly I don't care about sansa- I don't know how exactly she will play into the plotline so if she is useless or not i won't know and therefore I won't dismiss her when I have no idea.

But the fact that someone who only "wanted to protest against misogyny against sansa" by reiterating the same fucking misogynistic rhetoric that not only is spouted by the fandom but was spouted by the show runners themselves, which in turn made the casual fans perceive Arya as some kind of murder child only good for carrying out executions speaks volumes. The rant of the original poster may have been directed to those dudebros but I for one moment won't believe that they didn't even have one passing thought about Arya while writing the post. Brienne in text faces this humiliation- idk if the poster thought about her.

Their rant about Arya Stans making it about Arya when they didn't even think of her, and was just writing cathartic stuff sounds debatable to me personally. Us who apparently are "weirdos" for reacting as we do, have been fucking conditioned by this shithole of a fandom. We know. We know how you all think and what you all post about when you want to posit Sansa in a positive light. You all don't just point out how Sansa is misunderstood, what qualities she possesses, what can be her role in the story. You all do that by tearing into other characters. And Arya had been the punching bag long before Dany landed on the shores of westeros. Y'all say the tag "Sansa defense squad" was specifically created to combat against misogynistic comments regarding sansa. And yet more metas under it, than it should cover how sansa is the better sister. Maybe it is not about Arya. Maybe nothing has ever been about Arya but the past five years make me wary.

The bnfs of the fandom on this site (which do include males) find Sansa to be the ideal as opposed to Arya so do forgive us if we weirdoes don't entertain the bullshit about "manly" women being let off the hook

[nextomyy]

Chapter 1: START

[Notes: first-person POV, this has cursing, a plus size female reader, specific body part mentioned, talks of stereotypes, OC specific stuff, friendships not in the show (P.S. will try not to write them often as they are not written in the show and only exist in my fictional world ]

Scrolling through Tumblr became somewhat of a habit when watching a show rerun. Looking at posts related to the show was even more common. What wasn't common was the absolute fucking audacity for this boy to be lying on my bed as I watch an episode of a show he doesn't care about.

Grabbing an extra pillow from my bed and smother him for five seconds as he thrashes around from his position on my bed, yelling even at my attempt to kill him. Dropping my phone, unlocked, on the side of me and lifted the pillow to see him glaring at me.

"What is wrong with you!" His yell woke up the other bodies on the floor of the room. I hear one of them complain about it being too loud in the morning, which was a lie because it was three in the afternoon with the sun in the sky and my curtains pulled together because everyone else was asleep.

"We agreed that I'm the only one to lie on my bed." My tone wasn't meant to start an argument, just an honest statement. He begins to deflate with an evident pout on his lips.

"I thought you loved me." He cried out as he fell to the floor, next to a friend who is beginning to wake up. "Eli! She doesn't love me!" He grabbed Eli's shoulders, who just blinked at the sudden force on her shoulders.

Huffing when falling on my back as I pause on Stranger Things. One of the shows that I will never finish. Not with the number of spoilers I witnessed for season three. Clicking my tongue with my eyebrows furrowed when seeing that everyone is finally getting off the floor, except Connor who is still on the floor in a tantrum. My heart has space for one man and one man only.

My face relaxes and I can feel a smile spread on my lips at noticing I paused at the moment before Dacre's character is introduced by finally showing who is driving the Camaro.

"You're so down bad for him." Eli comments after stretching and getting out of Connor's hold.

"He's very lovely." The words leave me before I can fully think of them. It only makes Eli laugh as she moves around the bodies who are sitting up to stare at a shelf I made for this exact thing.

Getting off my bed to grab the water bottles and the small pill cases of Ibuprofen on my nightstand. After calculating how I can throw them without hitting their heads, I see three heads glare at me as I nod with a smile when they get my gift. Then I take a sniff of the room.

"Y'all stink, get out." My face scrunched in disgust at smelling the room. Bringing my hand to pinch my nose and wave my other hand to the front door. I got loud complaints and a curse to my couch after stubbing his toe.

"What did we even do last night?" MJ was moving around to walk toward me but I held my arms up. "Especially you." She gapes before falling to the floor next to her brother. Now the siblings are throwing a tantrum and Eli only shrugged at my stare to calm down her girlfriend.

"You guys became trash goblins at my joke of me throwing my clothes in it by accident." Shuddering at the memory and let go of my nose to speak properly.

Connor finally faces me with a smile that clearly tells me he didn't feel bad. Fucking weirdo he is. Rolling my eyes and throw my pillow at him. He catches it and curls himself in without his stare ever leaving mine. Yeah, weirdo.

--0--0--

Time passed rather slowly as my friends went on with their lives. Both Mark and James stayed behind to relax a little longer before going to work. They had fixed the makeshift bed on the floor to watch something on James' profile on the Netflix they leech off of me. I had given them crackers and another bottle of water as they fed each other, and I was on my bed. On my side with my dominant hand holding my head up. 

And I'm still in this position, even after they left. I already finished the movie they started to watch but paused as they had to get ready to leave. I really didn't mind them not commenting throughout the first thirty minutes of the movie. They knew me and I knew them, and nothing was going to disrupt that understanding between us. I just wished they didn't whisper when talking to one another. Feels weird when there is something on the TV already.

Unlocking my phone and see that MJ took a selfie with Connor posing with a peace sign. Shaking my phone and move the photo to an album of the things my friends had taken with my phone. Going home and go back to scrolling on Tumblr.

Immediately frowned at the first post I see on For You. Why do Billy antis have to be such cool people? Unfollowing then blocking them before the urge to write something on their post overtakes me. Breathing out with closed eyes and decide to see a reblogged post I did of him. I can feel my body start to calm down from the sudden flare of wanting to go anon and go ham on them. 

Staring at the header on my profile, and admiring Darce for a moment as Connor's behavior fills my mind. I called him a weirdo, yet here I am soothing myself after seeing a cute drawing of his character. Throwing my phone on my bed and get off to find clothes to wear. It's getting late and I haven't left my house in seventeen hours.

Walking out of the room to walk through the hallway that leads into my closet. Which basically was meant for it to be a bedroom but I placed my bed in the living room area. The kitchen was small and I only had a counter that ran on two walls that ended before getting close to the entryway. The living room was slightly larger and I still had enough space to place a coffee table in front of my couch and a nightstand beside my bed. And even a makeshift bed when moving the couch a little to the left towards the corner.

There are two dressers, one for my friends and another for myself. They don't often stay the night, so they only get ONE drawer on the dresser, except Eli. Eli has a drawer on theirs and two on mine. She's lovely.

Finding random clothes that don't make me look as if I just got out of a ten-hour gaming marathon. It hasn't happened to me... Yet. Here's to hoping it doesn't at all. I pose in front of the mirror as I blow a kiss to myself with a wink.

"I look nice."

Nodding at my outfit before sitting down on the vanity to slap some lip oil and mascara on. I rub a small amount of cream on my cheeks and forehead then let it dry. As I wait, I continue to stare with my dominant hand holding my head up. It seems that I was one of the lucky ones to have all my fat on my bottom half and not above my neck. 

Clicking my tongue at my thought, there's nothing wrong. Nothing wrong with a round face. Just wished I had one.

Taking a makeup brush and palette from the pink makeup organizer to put on a rosy blush on my cheeks. Putting the two things back before posing again. It's nice to compliment yourself every once in a while. Breathe out with my eyes closed and smile.

"I look nice." 

Fixing my outfit then leaving the closet and on the way, I grabbed my backpack from the floor and walked out of my house altogether. There's a plaza a few blocks away with new stores opening. It is just gaining attention, and I can only assume because there's a new Ross store. I could go check to see if there might be some skirts in my size. Probably, but they'll look like garbage.

Skirts are so meant to be freeing, to feel the wind on my thighs. Why would I wear a skirt that goes past my knees? If that was the case then I would have just worn pants. Them stereotypes of all us plus-size girls wanting to cover up completely. What the fuck is wrong with people? If I want to wear a dress that goes mid-thigh then I'm going to wear a dress that covers less than my thigh. The longer they complain, the shorter the dresses and skirts become.

Grumbling to myself as the radio blasts a random song as I drive to that plaza. It's barely five, but the sun is already lowering behind the plaza building once it gets into view. Moving my head to the beat of the song as I find a parking space somewhat close to the restaurant that I wanted to try. Tapping the steering when I take another turn and higher the volume of the music as I continue to look.

Parking and stayed sat as I let the song continue while mouthing the lyrics to look inside my backpack for coupons that I'd collected through the week. Will I find anything for this specific restaurant, not likely but I can try? Picking up the sandwich bag full of coupons and rummaging through them, all while the radio is still blasting music.

Pausing my movements at hearing static coming from the radio and I continue to listen until it suddenly stops and the song continues. Shaking my head at how it felt like I was in a trance. Sighing once finding no coupon, I put the bag inside my backpack and turn off the ignition but just as I do the static came back.

Pressing a button to change the station and when the static keeps going, I press another. Groaning when I kept pressing all six buttons and I kept getting the same result. Turned off the radio in the end and sighed out then took a glance out the windshield.

"Yeah. No."

Starting the car back on to reverse seeing that the sun is going up in the sky instead of the moon. In an instant, the static from the radio came back on and my head hit the steering wheel while I was driving out of the parking lot.

__I__I__

Sneezing as I start to wake up from my unexpected nap, moving my limbs when everything starts to come back to me. With wide eyes, I look around the area and I might as well be dead. Where the fuck am I?

Why is it so bright? And why does it feel like I'm getting colder?

Standing up but don't make a move to take a step. I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Or if I'm just dreaming all of this.

[Hello. You are awake.]

Blinking at the vast area of the place at hearing Siri's voice and sit down to lay on my back.

"I am going to take a nap."

[You will not. You must have questions, or are you still in shock?]

"A bit of both, no?"

[You are odd. Are you going to stay awake as I explain?]

"Do I even have a choice?" I look up at the room and spoke to the air as if this were normal. I do doubt it.

[I am ONE. It stands for Our Next Evolution. What is your name?]

"Shouldn't you know? It clearly shows that you've been watching me sleep until I awoke." Bending my knees as my eyes were set on the ceiling thing of the room. It's just blue and I can see myself but I can't tell where the light is coming from. Similar to The Void in Stranger Things.

[You have every reason to act hostile, but would it be a lot to ask for you to be nice?]

Bringing my hands up to cover my face as I let out a groan. This thing is right and I don't want it to be.

"My name is (First Name). It stands for never succeeding at anything."

[You seem calm. Do you know where you are? Have you been here before?]

I shook my head and play with my outfit. Pulling and stretching it as I stay lying down.

[You are here to play a game. Follow the rules and you will return home how you left it.]

"First of all you S.O.B, I never agreed to such a thing. Secondly, I am not going to follow your rules without even knowing anything about this game. Thirdly... I actually can't think of anything so there is no third, but still!"

[Would you like for me to tell you where you are going to play?]

"I don't have a choice and I'm starting to hate this floor. Yes."]

[The setting takes place in Hawkins, Indiana. The time you are to enter is July 22, 1983.]

"WHAT THE FUCK! What do you mean Hawkins? That place doesn't even exist, you fart knocker."

[Would you like for me to explain the rules to you?]

Sitting up as I scream into my hands as this is finally settling in.

[You are to follow my instructions so that you will gain rewards as the story continues. You are to stay in the background until September 1983 comes closer. You are to not speak of the game to anyone until told to. You are given an area to live in and a story of your own. You are to remember its details and answer accordingly when questioned. You are given a free outfit to fit the time period and 300 dollars at the start of the game.]

I give a blank stare at the room as everything is finally settling in. As MUCH as I enjoyed watching the show, interviews, and liking posts related to the show, there was never a single thought in my head of ever wanting to be in it. People's lives are at risk in this world! The thought of ever being inside the world never settled lightly in me. Why would I ever want to risk MY life for someone else, even if that someone was a favorite character?

Call me selfish or whatever but this is so not the time to fangirl and stare at the characters. Because they just no longer become characters, they now become people. And I don't like people. I don't want to continue to maintain a relationship with anyone after getting to know them. It's too troublesome, and I am not a fan of that. It's too sudden and I need to have known them way longer than six episodes. 

Knocking the sides of my head with my knuckles and stood up. A breath left me as I gave my best glare at the empty area.

"Do I not have a say in this game?"

[You do not... At the moment. Once the game continues and your behavior is at green, you may change any of the rules to your liking until then no. You will not have a say.]

"At least you were honest. When do I start?"``        

[theglitchywriterboi]

I hate when people go "Omg polyamory didn't work for me, that means it's inherently bad & gross !!!" Like let me break it down:

-If you were pressured into a polyam relationship [or an open relationship under the guise its polyam]: That's not a healthy polyam relationship & isn't reflective of all polyam relationships

-Just because the polyam people YOU know have had bad luck dating or their relationships crumble, doesn't mean that's true for all polyam relationships ??? Plenty have kids together, live long happy lives, etc. Plenty of monogamous relationships crumble but y'all NEVER go "omg did you see how many people break up after X time of dating/divorce during X time of being married ??? That goes to show that monogamy really isn't what humans were meant for tbh [the people in happy relationships are anomalies who should not be counted]"

-Wanting to date multiple people [in a polyam way not a cheating way & yes they're different things for the weirdos who thing being polyam=wanting an excuse to cheat] doesn't make someone weird/unhealthy [I saw someone say "Healthy people don't need/want multiple partners"]. Just because YOU wouldn't doesn't make it bad.

I hate when a post gets popular when it's someone's bad experience of being in a polyam relationship, cause 99% of the comments are people going "This is why poly is bad !!!" Or "See polyamory never works" & shit like that. When 9/10, the post is either from someone who was pressured into it by someone who just wanted to fuck other people or one/both of the other partners were toxic/shitty.

This isn't to say toxic relationships don't exist in the polyam community, they do. But that's indicative of shitty people being toxic & abusive, not that polyam is toxic & abusive. Like if those people weren't in polyam relationships, they'd still be abusive partners/toxic people.

Just because polyamory didn't work for you doesn't mean it's bad/toxic or a joke.

[dannythedog]

"Is Hansel the new macaroni?"

I mean, I personally never liked Mack but I feel like this is an unfair comparison. Sure, Mack was an oversharer who apparently couldn't read social cues and kept saying and posting stuff she wasn't supposed to say or post, and her vibes were definitely off at times in the sense that she was kinda weird? But she was openly pro LGBT+, pro body positivity and had some pretty progressist ideas when it came to gender expression. She wasn't a racist, fatphobic, homophobic, ableist pos like Hand Sanitizer is (literally everything Mack posted on the internet as a teen is still there. She never posted any out of pocket, rancid takes attacking minorities like Handkerchief did)

Like, y'all. There's a difference between being a socially awkward weirdo and being a full blown bigot.

I really don’t think they meant it in that sense. I took it as Kenzi dug her own grave literally all the time and that is what Hannah is doing as well. And I think overall just that here is yet another person we really can’t stand