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#seriously girl WHAT are you doing

fantasykiri5 · 3 months

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Y’know what no, I’m like two episodes past it now but what the hell was the moment in season one where Kristen kissed the WHOLEFUCKING PARTY on the mouth immediately AFTER realizing she was gay. Why did she do that. What’s wrong with her. It was amazing and I need to animate it or draw it or something but actually why did she do that

#she really just said ‘hey imma be all y’all’s first kiss now deal with it’ and didn’t wait for an answer #even funnier to think she had to do that one by one. and everyone else was just like ‘oh alright. why?’#Kiri rambles #dimension 20 #fantasy high #kristen applebees #not tagging the rest #seriously girl WHAT are you doing

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s0fter-sin · 1 month

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i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

#he a little confused but he got the spirit #its so good bc it can be super angsty of ghost really dreading whats been done to his sergeant and trying to make it right #or just go full crack treated seriously and have fun with it #i love just completely oblivious ghost #in any military context hes the smartest guy in the room #he always knows the play and has more experience than anyone #but stick him in the normal world? man is Lost #ghost just thinks hes had some kind of reconstruction surgery after being tortured and accepts thats what johnny looks like #bc hes never seen a pussy before #it takes years for soap to actually come out to him bc he just never thought to #hes seen him naked theyve literally slept together what else is there for him to say #then he shows him like a family album or something and ghosts just like ‘why arent you in any of these i only see girls’#and he just goes ‘hang on a second’#soap gets one of his sporadic periods one night and panics a little thinking it would weird ghost out or remind him that hes not cis #but ghost just thinks its a normal part of such a thorough reconstruction that hed bleed sometimes #and doesnt question it when soap grabs a pad out of his drawer bc ‘thats such a good way of handling the discharge my johnnys so smart’#just really supportive ghost for the wrong reasons #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod

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findafight · 8 months

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Robin chose Steve. Robin made the conscious and deliberate decision that she could and would trust Steve. She already liked him! She had fun working and bantering with him! They were already on their way to being weird little bffs and the torture just expedited the process. Steve chose Robin just the same! He thinks she's fun and cool and likes her so much! He chose to be honest and open with her too, putting himself out there.

Even though their interests on the surface level don't match why wouldn't they share them? Steve clearly caves when Robin wants to watch a movie he doesn't think he'll like, Robin can watch a March madness game or five.

Stop trying to take away their bond oh my god people can be close to more than one person!!! Their best friend doesn't have to be dismissive or mean or whatever in order for a romance to be special to them!

#if i have to see another fic or whatever that makes it seem like robin doesnt give a shit about what steve likes and talkes about im going #to scream and maybe even rampage #its nice to sit down and have someone who knows explain who the players are and what the stakes for this particular game!!#just because yall seem to not think anyone can be nutral towards sports doesnt mean people aren't #literally why is it so hard to believe robin would like to hear steve talk as much as steve likes to hear her talk #i am so close to telling some steddie shippers to not look at steve or robin or their friendship because some of yall do Not get it.#its like you can see them go 'have to make sure eddie is the most perfect specialest boy for steve...well that means robin doesn't Get Him '#or 'robin ignores him/dismisses his interests/isnt told everything happening in his life' like okay dont ever touch them again thanks #robin is steves specialest sunshine cupcake goober girl. steve is robins bestest happy times sweet funnyman. dont u dare take that away.#omce again tsgs longer than the post but ah well.#stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #finda's rambles #steve and robin #this is a scheduled post just to jazz things up i guess #but seriously some of yall need to STOP MESSIGN WITH STOBIN

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sentientcave · 11 days

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Retirement Party

Chapter 4 - Runaway

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized reader, female reader, Poorly thought out action sequences, Guns, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though I might even tell y'all her name.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

You wake in the morning with your nose buried in a thick patch of chest hair, and strong arms around you. Your legs are hooked around one of his thick thighs, and something hard digs into your stomach. You start to inch away, but his arms tighten, and his hips cant against you, a thick, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. It would be a nice way to wake up, if not for the circumstances. It’s been ages since you slept beside another person, let alone someone that feels as comfortable as John does.

“John,” you say softly. You don’t want to fully wake him up, just get him to let you go. “John, please let me go.”

He hums, one hand sliding to your waist, and then down to your hip, pulling you closer, grinding you against his thigh. You squeak in protest, becoming aware that you’re already wet, like you’ve been unconsciously humping his leg in your sleep for some time. You push your slightly freer top half away a little, so you can look at him. He’s still sleeping, a little frown on his face as he’s pulled unwillingly toward consciousness. He really is handsome, especially like this, all his defences down, grumbling like a hibernating bear.

“Don’t wake up,” you tell him, as if it’ll make any difference. “I just have to pee.”

One of his blue eyes cracks open, a little unfocused. “You comin’ back?” His voice is rough from sleep, rasping like sandpaper.

“Sure,” you say, even though you have no intention of doing so. Your body seems as eager as his is for something you’re sure is dangerous. Maybe he smells good, like tobacco, warm, boozy spices and something undeniably male, and maybe he feels warm and solid against you, but you don’t want to encourage this. You just want to enough space to clear your head. His admissions last night still have you spooked, John’s words not tempered by a night of surprisingly good sleep. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He loosens his hold on you enough that you can wiggle free, his eyes opening a little more so he can watch you slip out of bed. He rolls over onto his back, and starts snoring gently before you’ve even made it to the bedroom door. You take the opportunity to snag one of the bags stacked in front of the closet and your purse off the dresser and bring both to the bathroom with you. You’re not sure what’s in the bag, but you know the larger suitcase has things from your closet in it, so you’re hoping this one has more from your dresser.

You get dressed, glad that most of your underthings and a comfortable pair of jeans and a thick sweater are inside and pack your toothbrush and makeup bag into the larger one, and creep downstairs carefully. One of them is snoring gently on the couch, but otherwise, the house is silent. You carefully fish a set of keys off the hooks by the door and sneak outside. You don’t know where any of your shoes are except the red heels, so you just leave in your sock feet, and pile your things into the pick-up truck. You’ll drive it into town and leave it there, buy a ticket on a train or a bus, and get the hell back home.

It sucks to have to leave everything you own, beyond the clothes in the one bag and the contents of your purse, but maybe you can call the cops— Well. Probably not. Better to just start over anywhere else. You have digital copies of a few pictures of your parents, and that’s better than nothing, even if their wedding album is sitting on a shelf in John’s living room, along with all the family photos that your parents took of you and them while you were growing up. Your mother’s sketchbooks too, and her camera, and your dad’s guitar.

You bite your lip, holding back tears, and start the truck.

No sense mourning things. The memories are in your head and your heart, not trapped in the pages of books or twisted into the strings of the guitar. You don’t need them.

You haven’t driven in a long time, and the truck, unfortunately, is a manual, which you haven’t driven in even longer, but you manage to pull away from the house without revving the engine too hard, and pick up speed once you get to the road, only just remembering to hit the clutch with your left foot before you change gears. You’d feel pretty pathetic if you only made it to the road before stalling out the pickup.

You’re not sure which way town is, but you figure the road has to lead somewhere no matter which way you choose, so you navigate blindly, turning onto a bigger road a little ways down the gravel one that leads to John’s house. Bigger road means more people, although the hour is still so early that there’s no one around yet. The sun is barely up, and it’s still shadowy in the woods on either side of the road. The woods give way to fields suddenly, the sun making a too-bright debut, shining right into your eyes. You flip down the visor and adjust the rear-view mirror, wincing when you see a blue car a ways behind you, approaching fast.

You didn’t notice the car when you were leaving— It must have been parked behind the bigger van that they’d used to move all your things— but it looks sporty and fast, and judging by the way it closes the gap, there’s no question that it’s them. You push the truck harder, squinting against the light, heart hammering. The car’s engine roars, loud enough that you can hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, and pulls into the lane beside you. Gaz motions for you to pull over from the passenger seat.

You slow up enough that they pull ahead a little, and you yank your steering wheel to the side and stomp down on the gas and the clutch, shifting into third gear and nailing the side of the car, shattering a tail light and making it spin, stopping just shy of the ditch.

For a moment, you’re still close enough to see the shock on their faces, but you’re moving fast and leave them in the dust, at least momentarily. It won’t take them long to recover and catch up again, and if they hit you with the same maneuver, there’s no way you’ll be able to get the truck under control. There’s not enough weight in the bed of the truck to compensate, and you’ll wind up in the ditch for certain.

Funny, how it comes back to you. Learning to drive along mountain roads way outside Aberdeen, either in your dad’s little car or your mom’s old truck (usually the car, which was the easier one to drive. Your dad was the safer driver too, the better parent to learn from), and you can almost imagine your mother in the passenger seat, laughing her head off at the insane circumstances, encouraging you to throw caution to the wind, to get a feel for the road under the wheels and the way the old truck handled. She always laughed when she was under stress, but it’s comforting to think of. Your mum would never let a couple of thick-headed military assholes get the better of her.

The car is catching up again, so you floor it and smash through a fence gate into a muddy field, where the car won’t handle as well, and speed your way across the stubbly remains of wheat, already harvested. The car follows, and, predictably, struggles, the low frame too close to the muck, bumping unhappily over the soft, uneven ground.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. You smash through a segment of the fence on the other side and yank the truck back onto the road, giggling when the truck fishtails a bit, mud slicking the tires on the pavement. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through your system that you feel like you might be sick the moment you let any of this catch up with you. So you keep driving, and pray that it doesn’t.

The car gets close again when you reach another wooded section of road. Through the rearview mirror you can see Gaz pop out of the window, gun drawn, but you don’t hear the crack when it fires, you only feel the impact when the bullet strikes one of the rear tires. You shriek, slamming on the breaks as the truck spins out of your control and off the road, slamming into a tree head on.

The lurch forward as the airbags deploy, your body hitting them hard, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you’re slapped back into he seat. The seat belt bites into your shoulder painfully. You unbuckle yourself quickly, ears ringing too loudly for you to hear the screeching tires of the pursuit car. You fall to the ground when you try to get out, head spinning.

You stumble into the trees, still blinking away double vision. If you can find a good spot to hide— Maybe you can double back and take the car while they chase you blindly through the trees. You cast about, feeling every rapidly forming bruise, wishing desperately that you had shoes, and dive into the underbrush, scooting forward on your belly, brambles catching in your hair as you curl up, out of sight.

“Please come out, doll,” you hear Gaz call out, boots crunching through the woods, closer than you would like. “It’s okay, we’re not mad. Just come out and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Johnny is yelling further off, his voice incomprehensible but sing-song, mocking. Gaz moves further into the woods. You wait until his voice grows a little more distant before you drag yourself back out, sweater streaked with mud, leaves in your hair, and quickly sneak back to the road. The car is still running, the driver door left open. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“There you are, bird.”

You scream. A gloved hand drops over your mouth, cutting off the sound, and an arm loops around your waist, picking you right up off your feet.

Fuck.

"Look what you did, bird. Wrecked up Price's truck. 'E's not goin' to be 'appy about that." He turns so you can see the slightly smoking truck, the front half of it crumpled beyond repair.

You shake your head until he pulls his hand away from your mouth. "Its not my fault I crashed. Gaz shot the tire out. I wasn't even going to steal it, just leave it in town once I'd gotten to a bus stop."

He hums. You hear the slight crackle of a radio. "Got 'er, lads. Come back to the car."

"Rog."

"Aye."

Ghost shoves you into the back seat. "Stay put," he says sternly. "You're already banged up, don't want to 'ave to tackle you."

You sigh, all the fight leaving you. You feel awful, bruised and shaken up and trembling, and you do nothing but watch as Ghost gathers your things from the truck and puts them in the boot of the car. You slump back in the seat, inspecting the scratches on your hands idly. Your head hurts, and your shoulder aches, and you feel a bit like you've been stepped on, but nothing feels broken, just bruised and tender. You got lucky.

Well, not lucky. There's very little about any of this that counts as luck. Especially considering the look on Johnny's face when he jogs out of the trees. At first he looks stormy, but he grins when he sees you and opens the back door to crawl onto the seat and on top of you.

"Steamin Jesus, where'd ye learn ta drive like tha'?" He asks. "Didnae ken ye were a racer."

"Outside Aberdeen," you reply. Your ribs hurt. Soap’s weight makes every little ache more acute.

"Price isn't gonna be happy about his truck," Gaz says, tossing himself into the driver's seat. "What were you thinking, doll? You could've been hurt."

"You didn't have to shoot the tire." You try to push Soap off, but he wraps himself around you, a bit tight, but bearably so. You’re trembling, and he’s trying to help, in a thoroughly unhelpful way. "I was just trying to get home."

"That's the wrong way. Your home's with Price now." Ghost gets into the other front seat, and Gaz reverses back out onto the road.

You sigh, leaning your head against the window, watching the countryside flash by. It takes an embarrassingly short time to get back to John's house. You didn't get as far as you would have liked, hardly got anywhere at all. Your eyes prickle with tears, but you don't want to cry in front of them. You want to go back to bed, maybe back in time to the morning. You would have been wiser just to curl up next to John again.

Soap drags you from the car, hands a bit rough on your bruises, and pulls you back to the house. John rushes out, worry creasing his face, blue eyes sweeping over you and turning furious. "What happened?" he barks, not at you, but at his men.

"Bird was makin' a run for it," Ghost says.

"Wrecked your truck," Gaz adds.

"That's not my fault!" you protest. "You shot at me!" You glare at him, frustrated tears overflowing down your cheeks. It’s like they have no idea what kind of stress they’ve put you through.

"Woah, woah, c'mere, doll." John pulls you against his chest, wrapping strong arms around you, stilling some of the tremble in your limbs. "You broken?"

You shake your head, leaning into him, gripping his t-shirt tightly. You breathe in raggedly, trying to steady yourself.

"Lads. Why did you shoot at her?"

"Trying to stop the truck."

"She's a civilian you muppets. I take it that the truck's in no shape to drive, or you would've brought it back. You could have killed her." He pets a hand over your head, plucking out a few leaves. "You should’ve let her go."

"She stole your truck!" Soap protests.

"So what? It's wrecked now anyway, innit?" The silence behind you speaks volumes. "Alright, doll, why don't you go get cleaned up? " he murmurs against the top of your head. "I need to talk to the lads, and what I have to say is not fit for a lady's ears."

He gently ushers you into the house and closes the door firmly behind you. You trudge upstairs, feeling utterly pathetic, and lock yourself into the bathroom. Still sniffling, you comb sticks and leaves out of your hair with your fingers and put yourself into a hot shower, where you give yourself the freedom to cry your eyes out, hoping that the sound of water drowns your stifled sobs.

The house is quiet when you shut off the shower and dry yourself off. You wrap the shirt you'd slept in around you and poke your head out into the hallway. John is right there, holding out a bundle of clothes. "Here, sweetheart," he says softly, like he's worried a sharp word will set you off again. He must have heard everything. "I sent the boys to deal with the truck and that tail light, so it's just us. Just come on downstairs when you're ready."

You open the door wide enough to accept the clothes, and he turns to leave again, content to leave anything else to be said when you make it downstairs.

He'd obviously taken his cue from what you'd been wearing already, because he gives you a sweater and jeans again, comfortable worn in things. You go downstairs carefully, every joint and muscle in your body aching, even after the shower.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asks. "Or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee, please. I can make it. I'd feel better if I did, honestly." You skirt around him to the cupboard where you'd seen Gaz take mugs out, recognizing your own nestled among John's mismatched ones. You put milk and sugar in your favourite mug, and pour in coffee, stirring it throroughly. The clink of the spoon is loud, and so is the pan he sets on the stove top.

"Eggs and toast okay?" He asks.

"Um, yeah. That would be nice. Over easy?"

"Yes ma'am." He looks at you over his shoulder while butter melts in the pan, blue eyes all worry. "Did I say something to you last night? Maybe the sort of thing that made you feel like you needed to steal a truck and run as fast as you could away from here?"

"Um. Yes." You hold onto the mug with both hands. "Some stuff about wanting to start a family. With me."

His ears turn pink. "I see."

"I suppose this is where you tell me it was just the whiskey talking, right?" you ask hopefully. You like him, even if it’s ill-advised, maybe even dangerous to do so.

"Wish I could."

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

John turns around fully, guilt and sadness written all over his handsome face. He steps closer and touches your arm gently. “I’m so sorry about what my boys have put you through, sweetheart. None of this has been right.” He sighs, brushing a few tendrils of still-wet hair away from your face, studying you, those intense blue eyes focused on you intently. “But there’s something special about you, doll. I really do want to keep you forever. Not if you’re scared, and not if you feel forced— It’s just, the thought of you leavin' and never wanting to speak to me again is— I don’t want that.”

You swallow nervously. “This is just really overwhelming.”

“I know. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Soap really could have just given you my number.” The smile he gives you is hopeful, and you can’t help but return it, just a little. “Now go sit down, doll. Let me take care of breakfast, hm?”

You nod and move to the table, sitting where you can watch him, and peek out the window too. The car is gone, but the van is still there for the moment, sitting idly to the side. You consider making another run for it, but your aching limbs protest even the thought. There’s not enough fight in you, and you’re not even sure you want to fight John, not the way you do the other three. His only crime has been wanting you to stay, and being a bit overzealous about it. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? It isn’t really his fault.

Well, it might be his fault, in a roundabout way. He trained them, taught them how to ruthlessly pursue an objective. It’s just not his fault they can’t keep it from coming home with them. That’s a clear failure of whoever does their mental health assessments.

You sip your coffee and watch John crack eggs into a pan. He keeps glancing at you, and his smile flickers on a little longer each time that he catches you looking back, until he doesn’t stop smiling, and just looks happy, glad to have you there, even if you’re just keeping a silent vigil on the other side of the room.

It's not like you have anywhere to go. It'll take days at least to feel like you haven't just been in a car crash, and days more to locate everything to pack it back up. So long as you don't have to share a bed with John again, you think you could live with this, for at least a week. It can't be that terrible, so long as the others leave you alone. You rather hope they just leave. If you asked, would John send them away?

"John," you say as he sets a plate with buttered toast and a couple of eggs on it in front of you, and sets a couple tablets of paracetamol beside your plate. "If I stay… Will they be staying too?"

"I'm going to have them leave this afternoon. That alright with you? We can go for a walk to the neighbours while they pack up, if you're up for it. Maybe dr-- Well, not drive." He sets his own plate down and sits next to you, handing you a knife and a fork. “Have to get that sorted out. But the neighbours-- Rob and Melissa-- Their dog just had puppies a few weeks ago. Do you like dogs?”

You nod, breaking the yolks of one of the eggs with a corner of toast. "My parents had a dog when I was growing up. Some kind of German shepherd cross. Best boy. His name was Rob Roy, because he was a wee outlaw. Mam found him digging in the trash and--" you stop and give John a baleful look. "Sorry. That was more than you were asking."

"No, that's the most you've said at once this whole time. I'd listen to you talk all day, doll. Don't ever apologize."

"Sorry I-- Oh, shit, sorry--" you press your fingers to your mouth, cutting yourself off. "Force of habit."

"I'd like to see you lose that one. You have nothin' to apologize for. Not one damn thing, and especially not talking. I think you have the prettiest voice I've ever heard."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling. "You're just saying that."

He touches your arm lightly. "You don't know me too well yet, doll, but I never just say anything."

Yet hangs in the air, heavy and deliberate. He wants you to know him, wants you to stay with him, wants you to like him. Even if it makes no sense, the offer is tempting. It's been a long time since you've let someone get close— You've had the occasional fling, and the odd reunion with an ex that you’d stayed friends with, but grief is like a canyon you can't bear to cross. What if you love someone and you lose them, the way you lost your parents? How could you live with that all over again?

Still, there's something that feels like warm sunlight in his smile, and you can't help but incline toward him, slowly but surely reaching for the light. No one can live in the shade forever. There’s no nobility in suffering.

So you let yourself talk, at least a little. And he listens, hanging on to your words like they're precious, gazing at you with something unfurling in his expression that you can't name. You're almost afraid to try.

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#Retirement Party #Chapter 4 - Runaway #Whoops forgor to do this earlier #sorry friends I shouldn't make self-imposed deadlines I know the guy that sets em and he's a pushover #Doll girl you are doomed do not let that man give you the big hopeful blue eyes he is TROUBLE #Seriously though what is WRONG with these guys they are not making good decisions even a little #dark fic #cod mw fanfiction #john price x reader #OC: Doll #x reader #Sorry she's become more of a character and it's harder to deny her personhood for the x reader bit #so hopefully you can just enjoy being Doll for a hot minute

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theangrycomet · 6 months

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I like to think these two are work friends that research at the same university who have absolutely 0 clue that they live on the opposite ends of the Science Dad moral spectrum.

Utonium isn’t one to judge a book by a cover and is oblivious on the best of days while Venomous just does NOT bother to do research on any of the heroes so has 0 clue that Utonium has anything to do the the Powerpuffs despite them both talking incessantly about their daughters for years.

They both just sort of assumed the other was on their side of the hero/villain spectrum.

#‘’WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE A SUPERVILLAIN?”#‘’what do you mean you’re NOT?!”#Meanwhile Fink is actively biting everyone and everything until she gets her game back #Professor Utonium #Professor Venomous #Powerpuff Girls #PPG #OK KO #OKKO #OK KO Let’s be Heroes #I just think it’s be funny as hell #Man this is old- I seriously need to clear out my drafts folder #AngryComet Rambles

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that-g3-artist · 8 months

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Hello, same anon from yesterday. I respect your opinion, but Jojo has released before a post that shows Warriors having attraction for a female, and as it does not specify whether that attraction is sexual or romantic.

Now I think you misunderstand what a headcanon is. You see the definition I have found is that a Headcanon is a term used by fans of various media of entertainment, such as TV shows, movies, and books, to refer to their personal beliefs about a story they love. It is an unverified, unique interpretation of canon that supplements the official story. Not something you just make up about the character despite canon. As you can see its an interpretation of canon. (You can try searching this up) Now I could care less if you headcanoned the link from HW because I have yet to play the game and do not know if he shows any attraction.

However as the artist and writer of her own AU, Jojo has clearly shown her character of Warriors finds females attractive (Like I said, romantically or sexually is unknown) And I feel to just ignore canon and make your own assumption on a character would be more of a Au of the AU. And since you tagged it as Lu Warriors who is shown as straight, and not as HW Link. My question was merely asking what action or behavior of Warriors led you to headcanon that he is Ace as I have yet to see any behavior showing just that. Anyways my question was just completely wondering why you headcanon a shown straight charecter as Ace and why you feel it so.

No hate at all towards you at all, I respect your opinions, and was just curious. I love all your art and I think your style is super cute!

wdym anon? wars literally said he's ace in the comic????

see it's right there

#in all seriousness anon: i get the sense that you don't mean to be rude #but this is INCREDIBLY rude #i've been involved in fandom for like a decade #i don't need you mansplaining what a headcanon is #trust me when i say that it gets way more fun when you realize that all the rules are fake and you can do whatever the fuck you want #if jojo has a problem with me making wars ace she can come and tell me herself #also: you can be ace and also like girls. jsut saying #anyways that's all i'm gonna say on the matter #g3 does a talk

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dilftesbiggestfan · 1 month

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No cause it’s so offensive to not defend your close friend who you know did nothing wrong WHILE on vacation that THEY took you to.

Why didn’t Garroth, Travis, and Nana jump in and say anything? Didn’t Garroth literally just mention a few episodes ago that Dante hasn’t dated anyone since Nana in Highschool? And Nana confirmed it by punching him, fully debunking the cheater propaganda and then Jess remembered that and showed us that he in fact didn’t cheat contradicting herself again for the 200th time. nah cause they were so fake to Dante I can’t believe he took them to a one week 5 star cruise afterwards none of them deserved it he’s better than me fr most annoying part of that season was when aphmau came in with her 4 foot self involving herself in something that had nothing to do w her and talking about some “where’s Dante I gotta teach him a lesson1!1!1 🤬” girl you barely reach his kneecap he can literally pick u up and throw you out of a window sit down you have much more important struggles to worry about like how your boyfriend can’t be around kids and how you almost dated your half brother. Now be grateful you’re even here in love love paradise mrs grown woman who swims with toddlers in the kiddies pool and Nicole.. you also grow up you’re crying childishly cause he doesn’t date you 💀 it’s not the end of world seriously get over it y’all never were and never will be a thing leave that man aloneeee there are many fish in the sea go date Katelyn instead if you want one with blue hair so badly

As usual Zane and Lucinda were the only reasonable, logical and smart two to not involve themselves in this mess

#And when Garroth and Travis were telling Dante to apologise.. Apologise for what? Not wanting to date somebody? 💀#mystreet #dante aphmau #aphblr #aphmau dante #minecraft diaries #garroth ro'meave #laurence zvhal #aaron lycan #aphverse #nicole von ronsenburg #aphmau #travis valkrum #zane romeave #Nicole’s very pretty too she can get anyone she wants but she’s crying over Dante who doesn’t want her? Like… his loss girl but don’t haras #him go date Katelyn or something if you want a partner with blue hair that badly #Lucinda aphmau #Dante mystreet #nana ashida #Don’t take this too seriously I’m not genuinely mad over blocks I like being overdramatic to make it sound more entertaining that’s all #I don’t genuinely hate anyone mentioned here #Except garte but I didn’t mention him just thought I’d say I hate him cause I do

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craycraybluejay · 7 months

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You said in tags once that pedophiles and child predators aren't the same, can you explain why? /GEN

For the same reason that people with any kind of attraction to anyone ever aren't all rapists/don't all pursue romantic/sexual feelings that could or definitely would hurt the other person. Because paraphilias are simply the morally neutral state of experiencing attraction and rape/grooming is Not That. Because people *choose* to hurt others, but not what they feel. Because a good majority of child sexual abusers aren't even pathologically/paraphilically attracted to children, they *just want to hurt them because they can.* Because they're dissatisfied with something in life, or want a punching bag, or want to feel powerful, etc etc.

It's not really different conceptually from physical abuse. Do people do it because they have icky feelings about liking blood or violence? No. They do it to feel powerful. Sexual abuse is not about sex but about power. Hope this answers your question. I've answered it a good million times on this blog but eh I'm in a generous mood.

#anon response #pro para #girl imagine if ppl blamed randomass sadists for me getting beat up as a kid #like. no. thats not how that works. if they got off on hurting me in a literal sense they mightve been a little nicer ab it.#honestly its just flat out offensive to equate thoughts and feelings with abuse #regardless of someone's pathology you can always choose to do good and always choose to do evil #what you do with that ability is up to you. but rather than focusing consequences on random 'freaks' maybe focus them on #'normal people' who decide to covertly abuse their kids. or the priest who got tired of being godly and did some fucked shit #it is not the freaks you should fear but those who put on a face of normalcy while treating others like garbage and hurting people #also mostly those that are self aware know how to Be Good so to speak and im saying this broadly ab all 'dangerous' thoughts #ppl who know they can get triggered into violence will usually avoid sais triggers. ppl who spiral out of control during an episode will #have someone watch over them or find some way to offset any possible damage #even for people in whom some sort of harm is an instinctive reaction and not a conscious decision #steps can be should be and are taken to minimize problems and recover from anything that needs it #i trust a big 3 paraphile easier than an unstable person in power with no self awareness #because ive met both and only one has ever seriously hurt me. guess.

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