wadeheberts - Tumblr blog

[wadeheberts]

HOW HAVE SO MANY OF YOU LIKED THIS

[wadeheberts]

some guys trevor pissed off: let's kidnap THAT ONE for information on our new enemy

wade who's on his way to a release party in an abandoned building for fatal incursion's new album, decked out in clown face and fatal incursion merch, taking a bag of faygo bottles with him, and is more clueless about trevor's business than the people about to kidnap him: :3

[wadeheberts]

lmao replaying gta v for the 7000th time and finally after years upon years, trying to figure out an official timeline since i am, indeed, a large hulking dweeb edit: a dweeb whos stroking my goddamn dick to the drama this has started hooooweeee kids kick up a chair and ride the train to papas funhouse. the replies are fantastic bathroom reading

Keep reading

[wadeheberts]

the things i do for a joke

[wadeheberts]

I have a headcanon that one day around 2006ish Michael was with the kids alone while Amanda was showering or something and to no surprise, an argument breaks out between them. Over something stupid, like the TV remote or having a hand held game console taken away.

Tracey’s mad, screaming that Michael’s the worst dad ever and she can’t stand him. And Michael’s heard it all before, it’s been coming since she was twelve; but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less each time.

“All you do is ruin everything!” Tracey yells at him, “Go away! I want mommy! You just abuse us!”

It’s a trigger, and it’s a big one. Michael’s hearing goes to a high pitched ringing before he blinks hard, red seeping into his vision.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he snaps. His tone is cold enough to scare the angered look right off Tracey’s face. “I abuse you? I fucking abuse you? You don’t even know what that word means, Tracey Ann!”

Michael gets closer to her, and she backs up until she’s back on the couch. Jimmy’s sat beside her, having gone quiet now too, eyes wide at his father’s emotions.

“Real fuckin’ abuse is something I pray you’ll never know, Tracey. I never once put my hands on you in any way that wasn’t loving. I always make sure you have clothes that fit, real food to eat, a warm house to come home too. I worked hard and endlessly to make sure you two have access to anything you need. I gave up everything for you.”

And sure, the life he gave up may not have been the best one. He may be much better off now. But that didn’t mean he didn’t mourn Michael Townley himself, and the people he left behind with him back in that snowy hellscape.

Tracey’s lip quivers as Michael points a finger in her face, but for once he doesn’t give in at the sight of it. He’s angry and he’s hurt; his wounded inner child is boiling inside, furious that what he had to go through is being compared to something so stupid as a gameboy.

“I never want to hear you say I abuse you. Me or your mother. Do you understand me?” he demands, looking between the two of them. “Both of you, do you understand me?” he repeats with more force, only satisfied when both children nod faintly.

“I would never.” Michael says, more to himself than to his children. He takes a step backward, then turns and leaves the room, heading towards the front door just as Amanda came down the stairs, hair still damp from her shower.

“Michael?” she questions as she watches her husband grab his leather jacket from the coat rack by the door and throw it on with hasty movements. “Babe, hey? What’s—”

“I’m going for a drive,” he tells her, already pulling the door open. There’s a shake in his voice that anyone else would miss. “M’sorry. Be back in an hour.”

Before she could say anything, the door slams shut behind him. Amanda is left to tend to her two shaken up children alone; but when Tracey explains what happened in between hiccuped sobs, any annoyance she felt towards her husband quickly fades.

“Daddy didn’t mean to yell at you honey,” she sighs, “Daddy just didn’t have a very nice daddy of his own. So that word makes Daddy very upset.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Tracey would sniff.

“I know baby. We’ll tell Daddy together when he gets back, okay?”

Meanwhile, Michael had sped off somewhere and was pulled over to the side of the road. His head is on his steering wheel, dripping quiet tears onto his cellphone’s screen that showed an unnamed number in his lap.

It’s been two years. He still knows the number by heart. It’s still the first one he dials when he’s this upset because he knows no one else can handle him this way. Only he could. Only he could calm Michael down when it got this bad. But he can’t call. Michael wasn’t even sure if there was anyone left to call. Dave hasn’t said anything.

So he just sits there, staring at the numbers as they slowly got warped by tears, craving a hug that smelt like cheap beer, cigarettes and gasoline.

[wadeheberts]

OH MY QUEUE ENDED LAST MONTH

[wadeheberts]

is my queue over yet

[wadeheberts]

Some very delf indulging art; Autistic Trevor

Remember kids: Fuck AutismSpeaks 💙

INSTA

[wadeheberts]

Thank you, Rockstar, for including this lovely gem of a conversation, which sounds like a fanfiction someone wrote that actually became canon. 😂

Also, the fact that Michael and Trevor apparently planned this moment together ahead of time like a couple wanting to surprise a child with adoption because they know deep down that they have pretty much already been like his parents the whole time. Someone save me from the cuteness overload. just kidding I love it 💙💚🧡

[wadeheberts]

Franklin, Trevor and Michael get together one day for lunch. They talk about life, how Franklin’s new business is working out, how Trevor’s new guru thing is helping him stay relaxed, and how Michael is a [BIG SHOT] in the movie industry now. Suddenly, they all look over, and who’s standing there? Dave Norton, having a silent conniption and crushing his coffee cup like a chimp with a bad banana.

[wadeheberts]

Chi-Rads (Chicago's Public School's Radical Youth Alliance) is an organization of queer Black and Brown Chicago Public School high schoolers who are fighting to create an education system that best serves themselves. School has been very difficult for CPS students and teachers alike since covid has begun, and now Chi-RADS is organizing to get their needs met.

To summarize, their demands are:

acknowledgement of mistakes and a public apology to the Chicago Teachers Union.

to be centered in discussions of COVID-19-19 safety plans.

the end of performative language when trying to fulfill the Mayor's political agenda.

the release of full and transparent COVID data, and direct communication from the city to the public.

the end of using manipulated COVID-19 data as evidence in press conferences and other conversations about the COVID-19 safety plan.

continuously advocate for the importance of listening to youth and acknowledge the spaces the youth create to execute decisions that impact their education, health, safety, and lives.

Please share this and donate directly to their organization if you can do so! Chi-RADS is planning a walkout to protest & they could use financial help to organize it! Their cashapp is $Chi-RADS. If you're local and would like to help their organization in a physical way, you can connect with them on twitter at @chiradsCPS to learn how.

[wadeheberts]

it's been a couple weeks now since i quit smoking, and let me tell you, it does not get easier quickly. i have yet to be able to write without smoking, as the two acts were so inextricably linked that i cannot seem to move past the block of not having it. even having the gum doesn't help, it is the physical repetitive action and visible breathing pattern that is the trigger. nothing can replace it bc nothing is the same. i frequently sit down to write and then cry instead, because i can't fuckin think! so if you're wondering where the next chapter of war drums is, the answer is still at 80% done because i cannot focus on it well enough to work. writing was one of the primary therapeutic activities for me, so not being able to write has kinda damaged my mental health generally. i am focused on trying to get out of bed, eat food, read for fun, socialize a bit, doing other things, but without writing i feel purposeless and it is very frustrating. it's hard to remember why it is worth it to go through this, when creating art is everything to me. but IT IS WORTH IT. smoking is really bad for you, guys. really bad. i don't want to die that way. anway that's your update of life chez intermundia, if you're wondering why i've been more active on this app than usual, it's because i have been distracting myself <3

[wadeheberts]

got taken to axe throwing tonight. i may not have impressed anyone with my technical axe throwing skills but my sheer brute animal strength is unparalleled

[wadeheberts]

(via)

[wadeheberts]

43 FUCKING NOTIFICATIONS ARE YOU GUYS OKAY.

[wadeheberts]

PSA: Just a friendly reminder that whenever you start a creative project, you will invariably hit a phase where the Thing™️ appears horrendous and you start asking existential questions. But if you keep working, it invariably passes and starts to resemble something less like the devil’s vomit. Doesn’t matter if it’s art, writing, or what–this happens repeatedly. Carry on.

[wadeheberts]