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hyperfocusthusly · 10 months

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Crashing down

Read on A03 here

Crowley woke up late, from the moment his eyes opened the day felt wrong. He groans and reburies himself in the duvet. Eventually he emerges in the late afternoon, the sense of wrongness persists squirming under his skin and making him irritable. Aziraphale notices, of course, Crowley notes him peering around bookshop shelves, fiddling with his rings and offering tea slightly more often than necessary while Crowley engages in his usual, and favourite, activity of scaring away would be customers with a little more venom than normal.

“Are you alright dear?” Aziraphale appears somewhere behind his left shoulder, a gentle press on his lower back soothes the nagging feeling pulling at the back of his eyes. He raises a hand and rubs his temple.

“Just feel a bit off angel, nothing to worry yourself with”

“Maybe a walk would do you some good, bit of fresh air?”

He suspected it wouldn’t, but anything to abate the radiating worry from behind him.

The walk, as it happened, took him as far as Nina’s coffee shop. In the years since he and Aziraphale finally were able to settle in the bookshop they had developed some kind of ‘mutually grumpy half of the pairing’ friendship. He pushes open the door to find an enormous mug waiting for him, she had seen him coming and automatically prepared his usual. He miracled out far too much for a single coffee and passed it to her. The dull pain behind his eyes had sharpened in the street, but eased a little in the relative gloom of the coffee shop in the late afternoon haze. He took his normal seat in the back corner sipping his coffee and willing himself to calm down.

“Are you alright?”

Nina. She looked concerned.

“You’re just looking a little pinched, more than normal, I mean”

A small hum is all he manages, the feeling is intensifying the coffee shop suddenly feeling small and repressive, the air thick and sticky in his throat. He stands, abruptly, the chair skittering away behind him.

“Something bad…” he murmurs,

“I need some air”

Nina watches him leave, slightly unsteadily, and wonders if she should call Aziraphale, what do demons consider a bad thing anyway?

The air outside is cooler, the autumn evening revealing the best of itself in a crisp breeze. He sighs. The feeling is still there, clawing at the back of his throat, demanding to be felt. He glances up and down the street, nothing. No angel hoard, no lurking demons, nothing out of place.

The chime of the record shop bell catches his attention as Maggie comes out of her shop. She waves to him as she sets out to cross the road, on her way to walk Nina home, as always. Nina clinks the lock on the door to the coffee shop and steps out beside him, ready for the evening ritual.

The unease sharpens, pulls at his senses.

Moments pass, tiny, inconsequential, flickering past until he sees it, suddenly, horribly and with perfect clarity.

The car skids around the corner, careening wildly, directly towards Maggie.

And before he can raise his hand, it hits her. She disappears under it and the world stops. Crowley has seen a lot of things on his time on earth, death and destruction wreak havoc here constantly, but not here, not now, not in this corner of the world they had carved out for themselves. Not to his friends.

Nina’s screams pulls him back and he’s raising his hands before the first step is complete. He reaches out for the tenterhooks of time and grips them, feeling the power screech along the nerves of his corporation, wrapping around his wrists like burning white ropes.

He pulls, time screams at him it’s done, it’s done.

He pulls harder.

“No,” grits his teeth, refusing to back down, “you will obey me.” It begins to relent, winding back, slowly, too slowly for the affect its having on him. As the car runs back he feels something in his head pop, his corporation is shaking under the pressure of the metaphysical form pressing through. Nearly, nearly there. The car is pulled back, Maggie is upright. His body is screaming, but she is safe.

With one last push, he sends the car screeching up the road and lets go, the ropes slip away, searing away the skin in their path.

The world returns briefly, a fades away just as fast. He feels suddenly heavy, exhaustion pours over him as the damage to his corporation makes itself known. He’s loosely aware that he’s falling, legs unable to hold themselves up any longer.

He’s also aware that he’s caught, a gentle heat against the cold crawling over him. He’s going to discorporate he thought, he wonders how he’ll explain this one to Hell, how long it will take to get a new corporation, to get back home, he hears the scrape of metal across asphalt, the cold rush of death breezing closer.

Everything is fading, it’s happening, sounds blurring together until something rings through with crystal clarity.

“You will not be needed here today”

He recognises the voice, of course he does, the only constant of 6,000 years on earth, how could he not.

The numbing cold is replaced gently by warmth, things begin to knit themselves back together and he suddenly feels calm.

Aziraphale is here, and he is safe.

—————————————————-

Aziraphale feels time stop outside the bookshop, he drops the books he’s holding and rushes towards the door, trying to keep the icy fear from over taking him. The door pushes open with some effort, time is holding out here, sticking to him and making movement difficult. He emerges on the street in time to see Crowley, face taut with effort, extend his arm and throw a car sideways. He reaches out his own arm and forces the air out of the tyres, grinding it to a halt.

He turns as the world zips back into life, released from the hold it had been trapped in, turns to see Crowley crumple to the floor, barely caught by Nina.

A cold sweeps down the street as a figure emerges from a side road. Black cloak sweeping, Scythe scraping your torturously across the asphalt.

No no

He’s running again, desperate to get to Crowley before the figure. He drops to the floor, into an atmosphere clouded by pain, distress emanating from crowleys alarmingly still form, theres blood running from his ears painting the skin of his unnaturally pale face, dark black bruises forming under his closed eyes. He reaches out again, feeling for the damage.

He spares a look upwards, meets the gaze of empty sockets and spits out “you will not be needed here today.”

He refocuses all of his energy on pulling back together the parts of the broken body in front of him. Breathing becomes steadier, a heart rate less erratic.

Somewhere around him he dully hears the squawking of crows, another gust of icy wind and then, finally, the warmth of the autumn sun.

Death was gone, Crowley was safe.

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storm-of-feathers · 1 year

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I'm very fond of this video

#i think something i have queued today briefly mentions it so here have some early context

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beemovieerotica · 10 months

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Hey... so there now appear to be AI-generated science articles on .org websites that are giving biologically incorrect "facts" on basic, for-children topics

The title is "Are There Freshwater Octopus Species?" which should be an incredibly straightforward thing to answer: No.

The article starts out decent:

"Despite their many fascinating features, there is no evidence to suggest that octopuses can survive in freshwater environments."

Cool. Okay. Next section.

"While most people associate octopuses with the ocean, there are some species that can survive in freshwater environments."

Wait. What?

"Freshwater octopuses belong to the genus Amphioctopus, which includes several species that are found in brackish water and estuaries. These cephalopods have adapted to life in freshwater environments and have been observed in rivers, streams, and even hydrothermal vents."

NO NO NO.

One species of freshwater octopus is Amphioctopus aegina...Another species, Amphioctopus marginatus...

THESE GUYS LIVE IN THE OCEAN. [Scrolls 2 more sections]

Freshwater octopuses are still a topic of debate among scientists. While some researchers claim that they do exist, others argue that there is not enough literature to support their existence.

asd;lkfjasdlf;kjasd;flksjdfa

#science #it's so sus like I don't believe this was vetted by a real person #maybe the output was briefly skimmed by someone who was ESL and they just okayed it?#ai #this is extremely bad for kids

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inkskinned · 9 months

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what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

#warm up #writeblr #this one has bothered me for a bit #any time a woman does something even passingly annoying we treat it like a fucking crime #hey man. women are allowed to be annoying. everyone forever is allowed to be passingly annoying #as long as they aren't hurting anyone/thing #like u wanna know something? i find it super annoying that men don't wear seatbelts #why arent there thousands of comments on driving videos thats just like : men try not to die in a car crash challenge #''this briefly annoyed me''. okay??????? AND????????????????? go get ur self a cookie and calm down about it #ur not entitled to control other ppl's experiences and emotions just so u can maintain ur own peace #if being briefly annoyed ruins ur whole day! you! need! therapy!!!!#men try not to become immediately angry about nothing challenge: level impossible #ps author is nonbinary. we didn't even get into the gender presentation thing #the fact men think it's SEXY that my voice is on the lower end....

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audible301 · 18 days

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Consider me a follower of the Ankarna Cassandra Ruvina Galicaea misunderstood lesbian pantheon

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junotter · 1 month

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Part 2 of my modern avatar au, The Gaang (part 1)

#avatar aang #atla katara #atla toph #atla sokka #atla suki #atla #avatar the last airbender #modern avatar #atla modern au #my art #atla fanart #kataang #CAUSE THEY ARE IMPORTANT IN THIS AU #lots of inner debates on how to deal with aang's tattoos and if to make him say an actual buddhist #decided that he and monk gyatso (plus a handful of others) are/were part of a largely dying religion of a nomadic group #from the himalayan/tibetan plateau region that's a mix of buddhism hinduism and other religions (plus air nomad culture)#due to the politics of region aang and gyatso traveled around the world which is how he met katara and sokka #who were on a fieldtrip in the south (of canada)#they live in the Qikiqtaaluk Region originally in a smaller northern town but to continue their schooling they moved to iqaluit #Toph is from China and she met the gaang during the first big trip sokka katara and aang took together (at aangs begging)#meet her the summer before katara's first semester of college (so she was 18 aang 16 sokka 19 toph 16)#also by 16 aang is his own guardian cause of gyatso's death so he just does whatever p much #suki from okinawa and they meet briefly another summer of college when traveling to a bunch of islands in the pacific #suki specializes in and teaches ryukyuan martial arts (she's ryukyuan)#all reunite after sokka and katara's graduation (katara graduates a year early) during aang sokka and kataras celebration world tour #where they come into full actual contact with the fire nation crew #they are all in their twenties in these expect for monk aang who is a teen #hehe i cant wait to make more for this auuuu

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kidovna · 2 months

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manifested mileven at the snowball in 2016, so now I’m manifesting byler at senior prom🪻🌻

#updated haircuts!!!#byler #stranger things #byler fanart #mike wheeler #will byers #artovna #the fact that there were times when I LOVED mike/el so much and now I just get sad every time I see them is crazy #no one talk to me about the l bloody smitten comment. sorry I briefly made you British in 2016 dustin #random fun fact: finn wolfhard liked that old artwork on instagram when I first posted it and I hadn’t even tagged him.#I’d tagged him in a few other mike wheeler pieces I’d done and I guess he was snooping 😆#back when the cast weren’t so popular and they were so little 😭#prom byler

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ohmaerieme · 2 months

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watched atla for the first time. theyre my favorites forever and always

#not.in a ship way. not ever #anyways. zuko is haunted by his time as a tea server #the customer service curse #i like briefly glanced at one reference so if they look funny thats why #///#atla #aang atla #avatar aang #zuko #atla zuko #atla fanart #my art #ohmaerieme

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tamelee · 3 months

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Happy 3/7day 🥰~! 'One day we'll look back on all these memories and smile about it'

Process + detail:

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dekariosclan · 5 months

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Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.

And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.

So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.

And then it happens again. And again.

And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.

So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?

Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.

He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.

So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.

————

Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.

…and then he meets Tav.

At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.

Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.

But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.

…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.

Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…

But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.

And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.

One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?

Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?

He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…

He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.

It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.

…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.

————

Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.

But it still all came to nothing.

Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.

Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.

Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.

Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.

Just imagine.

#Please enjoy this huge dissertation about Gale #(which was unintentional)#I originally wanted to talk briefly—BRIEFLY—about why the weave scene is so important to him #And then I….kept writing lol #Please also note that while this focuses on successfully channeling the weave I also LOVE the talk you have with him if you ‘failed’ it!#The same themes apply there because when you tell Gale you still think about being alone together he replies that he hopes to embrace you #It’s all about Gale finally finding someone who appreciates him just as he is and being able to connect with them #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3

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ratcandy · 4 months

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alright baby after a full SEVEN HOURS, here's a rough little thing .

When I first got Shamura in my cult and realized they had seemingly completely lost their memories, I was just immediately reminded of this scene from Bojack Horseman and. well it plagued me for AGES until I finally went insane to make this thing.

'cause i mean . angsty ass men who have so much pent up rage towards a family member who treated them poorly but cannot properly express it due to said family member lacking any memory of it. amiright

some frames i like:

#not that I think Shamura was anything like Beatrice but u know #the whole imprisoning him for eternity thing #also take a shot every time the proportions on either of their designs goes COMPLETELY out of wack u'll be dead in seconds #anyway. good lird this took forever #but it's out of my brain now so i'm normal again #clamart #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cotl shamura #i mean. the other bishops are there briefly. do i tag them too?#yea ig #cotl kallamar #cotl heket #cotl leshy #<- but baby. small. puntable.

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nyctophorum · 11 months

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I love the film version of nimona but I do find it very funny how they’re like ‘ambrosius cut off ballister’s arm but he didn’t mean to 😢😢😢 he was just traumatised and reacting to a dangerous situation 😢😢😢’ whereas in the comic it’s like ‘ambrosius shot ballister with a laser canon that took off his whole fucking arm just because he couldn’t bear to lose lol. Lmao, even’

#nimona #like obviously there’s more to it than that but the contrast is very funny to me #comic amballister are bitter exes who’ve been fighting for a while #whereas movie amballister are more like boyfriends who have briefly fallen out so it’s a very different dynamic #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #inch resting to me also that they renamed bal #amballister

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a-little-unsteddie · 6 months

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cw: child abuse mentioned, child neglect

Steve, who was never allowed to play in the snow as a child because it was ‘too messy’. Steve, who stared longingly outside as he watched other kids play in the snow. Steve, wanting to build a snowman, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight, but was denied each and every time by his parents. “It’s uncouth, Steven.” “It’s dirty, Steven.” “You’ll just whine that you’re cold, Steven.” “No.” “No.” “No.” Until he stopped asking altogether, even as he stared out his bedroom window at the other kids playing. Steve who loves the snow but was never allowed to play. The one time he snuck out, he was brought inside being dragged by his ear and spanked until he cried.

And then some for crying at all.

Steve goes shopping with his mom and sees a snow globe and all but cries for her to get it for him. If he can’t have the snow outside, he wants to have a snow globe to have it inside. She lets him get it, but not without commenting ‘at least it’s not going outside’.

Thus starts a collection, of sorts. Whenever he sees a new snow globe, he makes his mom buy him it and because he never asks to go outside to play in the snow if she buys one, she keeps buying them for him.

He has around 10 or 15 snow globes by the time he’s a teenager and left alone more than he isn’t. He still doesn’t go out to play in the snow, even if he silently yearns to, because now he’s ‘too old’ to play out in the snow. Tommy doesn’t like being cold, so he never goes out, and Carol won’t do something if Tommy’s not there, so Steve doesn’t bother asking her to go outside.

Steve becomes friends with Dustin and the rest of the party, and he still doesn’t let himself play with them, even when Dustin begs him to. He passes on the same excuses to him as his mom told him, and the words feel like ash in his mouth, but he doesn’t just play in the snow like he’s aching to. It’s too cold, he’ll be wet and miserable later, he doesn’t want to get water all over the house.

Mostly, they’re excuses because he’s kind of worried he doesn’t know how to play in the snow. That somehow he’ll be bad at it.

Eventually, when he and Robin become friends and their first winter together happens, he tells her this secret fear. It’s right after the kids go out to play, and it’s just them, and he whispers to her.

“I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”

Robin is confused, of course, because how can you be ‘bad’ at playing in the snow? He elaborates to her that he’s never played and she’s less confused but more angry at his parents, which he thinks is an over reaction and she insists he’s having an under reaction, whatever that means, and the moment passes. Steve is relieved to have revealed that much to her. He still doesn’t go outside, and Robin gets cold easily, so she doesn’t want to go outside, so they stay inside together.

He still collects snow globes, when he sees them. He buys one in front of the kids and brushes it off as a white elephant gift for a family thing, but displays it in the unused guest bedroom with the rest of the snow globes. It’s on the other side of the house from where every other guest bed is, so usually no one takes it, and so he knows his collection is safe.

Even if he keeps it secret, and plans to keep it secret forever, until the following winter, after the spring break from hell and after the grueling summer and cool fall brings the snow again and Eddie Munson is a menace in his life. He’s by far the most energetic person that he’s ever been friends with, all touches and open affection, it’s almost too easy to fall for him.

Eddie is nosy as hell and of course it’s him that finds the collection of snow globes.

“What’s this?” Eddie’s voice echoes from down the hall and it takes Steve a few seconds to process where his voice is coming from before he’s rushing down the hall and into the unused guest room.

Along the left wall, there’s a shelf that stretches from wall-to-wall filled with snow globes.

Embarrassment shoots through him, and he shrugs. “…snow globes.” he explains badly, wincing when Eddie turns towards him with an unimpressed look. It quickly morphs into concern because for some reason, Steve’s started tearing up and once the tears start they don’t stop.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie soothes, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, sweet thing.”

And the thing is, Steve does want to explain. Suddenly overcome with the urge to spill everything, in fact. So he does. He tells Eddie about his mom and dad refusing to let him play in the snow, the one time he got caught and got spanked for it, the snow globes, the fear of being bad at playing in the snow, still desperately wanting to despite it.

Through it all, Eddie holds him and listens. He hums occasionally to acknowledge what Steve is saying, but never interrupts him, for which Steve is glad because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to continue if he was stopped for any reason.

At the end of it, when Steve’s tears have dried, and they’re curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, Eddie vows to teach him out to play in the snow. How to make a snow angel, a snowman, an igloo, a snowball — everything. He whispers these promises and plans into his ear, their hands intertwined where they lay on Steve’s lap.

And he follows through. With everything.

And the next time the kids beg him to play, he plays his part and says no, because he’s still anxious he’s going to do it wrong, Eddie throws a snowball at his back while he’s busy arguing with Dustin. And silence falls over everyone, waiting for Steve’s next move. Because he’s never given in, and no one’s ever pushed their luck like that.

Steve turns towards Eddie, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh, it’s on, Munson.”

The kids cheer and then it’s chaos of snowballs being lobbed at one another.

Later, when everyone is warming up with hot cocoa, and Steve is curled into Eddie’s side with a blanket tossed over their laps, Steve knows he’s never been happier to have met Eddie, who taught him how to play in the snow.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers to Eddie, who hums curiously, lazily looking at him from the corner of his eye. “For teaching me how to play in the snow.”

“Always, Stevie. I’ll always help you.”

And it sounds like a promise.

#is this anything?#idk #i wrote this on a whim #without rereading it #so if it doesn’t make sense i’m sorry #christmasish fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #cw child abuse #cw child neglect #steddie #stobin briefly #unsteddie writing

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inkskinned · 6 months

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the problem is that being single is seen as the consolidation prize, and not the natural neutral state of being-a-person. at the end of the movie or the book or the poetry, there is a person waiting for you at the altar, and they love you. if the play is a comedy, everyone gets married. the metaphor is about how you are not-whole. the metaphor is about how everyone is going to be happily-ever-after. the metaphor is that romantic love is the most important resource on the planet, not just all-love. all-love is not a thing, that is a disappointment. the treasure is not the friends we made along the way. the treasure is the girl you landed.

the metaphor is that you cannot be alone, that means you are broken. are you getting over someone? that is acceptable, you can be getting over someone, but not for long. you must be single because you would rather not be single. you must be single and looking to not-be-single. you must want to date, eventually.

friendship and community are never seen as being equal-to or even-better than romantic connection. that person is your one! you need to find them. you need to hunt through the sand particles until you can shift out some kind of gem. this is regardless to your own experience of the beach and the sun. you need to be somewhere with someone.

if you are taking this time alone to heal, that is so sad. everyone gives you this little pitying look. the understanding is that you are not actually happier than you were before you were single. it is seen as a sort of pity - oh, you are choosing yourself, making yourself the priority? - that isn't quite right. you must mean that you are making yourself ready for the right person. you are just laying the bed better this time. open up your heart. you'll find them, we promise!

what do you mean you're really-truly genuinely-very happy? you are probably misremembering what it was like to be in a relationship. and besides, once you meet your person, that time will look grey and bland and wasted. your person is the only way for you to see in color. so what if you have taken this time - for the first time in your entire life - to actually-for-real do the fucking work. you can be proud of yourself, sure. but the way we need to know that you got better is that you get a partner. you're healed enough for the next bad part!

people don't choose to be single, they just say they're choosing to be single - they actually mean "nobody wants to date me." it doesn't matter how many people you have gently rejected or how many times you've talked it over carefully in therapy. what matters is that you are single, and by all accounts - that means you are something worth our pity. your successes and life all seem pale in the sunlight. sure, you have done amazing things and finally found your way in life. what matters is that there wasn't a person in the room with you while you did it.

you want to tell them - that's the whole thing. i didn't know how to be alone in the room. i didn't know how to handle the silence. every moment was so sharp, and i kept choosing the wrong way to close the door. i have spent my entire life in the empty well, living in the ricochet of someone else's cruelty. for once i have built myself a ladder. for once everything i taste is all mine, every bite of sunshine and laughter. i have learned how to sleep out in the open with my memories. recently, they have started to purr.

your father rolls his eyes. listen. this isn't about you. i just want a grandchild in my future.

#writeblr #i actually didn't want a girlfriend before nat #and my dad recently said to me - raquel. i don't approve of the promiscuity #1. i am 30.#2. i had casually dated about 4 people over 18 months.#3. i do believe he was just mad that i get more girls than he ever did #i had to look this 60 yr old deacon in the eye and say. okay so i have a girlfriend first of all im just not tellin yall about her #and secondly.#OKAY???? OLD MAN I DONT EVEN LIVE HERE WHAT ARE U GONNA DO ABOUT IT #briefly considered asking nat if i could pretend we were a one night stand kind of a thing

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 2 months

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which group do you find the most absolutely delightful at bringing the lolz together??

#this poll brought to you by: i was watching wwdits last night and thinking 'DAMN this ensemble is magical'#i have also been thinking that a lot in my b99 rewatch #so now: FIGHT!#dollsome does polls #(everybody i know being influenza-ridden including future me has got me crazy for polls these past few days)#(nothing briefly saves you from reality better than a tumblr poll!)#i think my answer is wwdits but choosing between wwdits and new girl brought me suffering #and also these are all my favorite and that's why i listed them

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little-pondhead · 2 months

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Your Ancient History, Written In Wax

-

Danny knew he should have put better security around the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. It wasn’t even Vlad who opened it this time! The fruitloop was too busy doing his actual mayor duties because for some godforsaken reason, the man got re-elected.

No, it wasn’t Vlad. And it wasn’t Fright Knight, either. Nor the Observants. Who opened the Sarcophagus, then? Danny didn’t have time to find out as Pariah Dark promptly tore open a hole in reality and started hunting Danny down.

The battle was longer this time. He didn’t have the Ecto-Skeleton, as that was the first thing Pariah had destroyed. The halfa had grown a lot over the past few years, and learned some new tricks, but apparently sleeping in a magic ghost box meant that Pariah had absorbed a lot of power. The bigger ghost acted like a one-man army!

Amity Park was caught in the middle of the battle, but the residents made sure it went no further than that. Vlad and the Fentons made a barrier around the town to keep the destruction from leaking. Sam, Tucker, and Dani did crowd control while Danny faced the king head-on.

Their battle shook the Zone and pulled them wildly between the mortal plane and the afterlife. Sometimes, residents noticed a blow from Pariah transported them to the age of the dinosaurs, and Phantom’s Wail brought them to an unknown future. Then they were in a desert. Then a blazing forest. Then underwater. It went on like that, but no one dared step foot outside of Amity. They couldn’t risk being left behind.

It took ages to beat him, but eventually, Danny stood above the old ghost king, encasing his symbols of power in ice so they couldn’t be used again. He refused to claim the title for himself. Tired as he was, Danny handed the objects off to Clockwork for safe keeping and started repairing the damage Pariah had done to the town. The tear he’d made was too big to fix, for now, so no one bothered. They just welcomed their new ghostly neighbors with open arms and worked together to restore Amity Park.

Finally, the day came to bring down the barrier. People were gathered around the giant device the Fentons had built to sustain it. Danny had brought Clockwork to Amity, to double check that they had returned to the right time and dimension.

Clockwork assured everyone that they were in the right spot, and only a small amount of time had passed, so the Fentons gave the signal to drop the shield.

Very quickly did they discover that something was wrong. The air smelled different. The noise of the nearby city, Elmerton, was louder and more chaotic. Something was there that wasn’t before, and it put everyone on edge.

Clockwork smiled, made a remark about the town fitting in better than before, and disappearing before Danny could catch him.

Frantic, Danny had a few of his ghost buds stay behind to protect the town while he investigated.

He flew far and wide, steadily growing horrified at the changes the world had undergone. Heroes, villains, rampant crime and alien invasions. The Earth was unrecognizable. There were people moving around the stars like it was second nature and others raising dead gods like the apocalypse was coming. Magic and ectoplasm was everywhere, rather than following the ley lines like they were supposed to.

Danny returned to Amity.

The fight with Pariah had taken them through space and time. Somewhere along the way, they had changed the course of history so badly that this now felt like an alien world.

How was he supposed to fix this?

-

In the Watchtower, The Flash was wrapping up monitor duty while Impulse buzzed around him, a little more jittery than usual. The boy was talking a mile a minute, when alarms started blaring an alarming green. Flash had never seen this alarm before, and its crackling whine was grating on his ears.

Flash returned to the monitor, frantically clicking around to find the issue, but nothing was popping up. No major disasters, no invasions, no declarations of war. Nothing! What was causing the alarm?

Impulse swore and zipped to a window, pressing his face against it and staring down at Earth. “Fuck! It’s today isn’t it? I forgot!”

“What’s today?” Flash asked. He shot off a text to Batman, asking if it was an error. The big Bat said it wasn’t, and that he would be there soon.

“The arrival of Amity Park. I learned about this in school; the alarm always gives me headaches.”

Flash turned to his grandson, getting his attention. “Bart,” he stressed. “What are you talking about?”

Impulse barely glanced over his shoulder. Now that Flash was facing him, he could see a strong glow coming from Earth. “The first villain, first anti-villain, and the first hero,” he said anxiously. “They all protect the town of the original metas. They’re all here.”

“Here? Now??”

“Yeah? They weren’t before, but they are now. The first hero said there was time stuff involved, which was what inspired me to start practicing time travel in the first place.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s okay. We should probably go welcome them before they tear apart Illinois, though. The history I remember says that some of them freaked and destroyed a chunk of the Midwest during a fight with each other.”

“WHAT?”

#dpxdc #pondhead blurbs #liminal amity park #I’ve seen stuff like this in the mhaxdp fandom and I eat it up every time #basically the fight with Pariah caused the town to jump through time a little #and while they THOUGHT they were keeping everything in #shit leaked out and tainted those points in time #so technically #historically and genetically speaking #Amity Park is the origin point for the meta gene and Danny made history as the first hero #because Clockwork is a little shit #everyone embodies a basic ability and it has grown from there #the flash family are direct descendants of Dani (speed force Dani for the win)#Dash is the reason super strength exists #so on and so forth #go buck wild #bart learned about it briefly in history class in the 30th century #practically hero worships them #booster gold knows about them too but in contrast to Bart’s excitement #booster is fucking terrified because there was a period where Amity Park rebelled against the US government #and he’s from that specific time #he learned to fear phantom because he lived during that part while Bart is from farther in the future when those issues got resolved #guess who’s chosen to welcome the town? >:)#if you’re wondering what happened to the GIW #they turned into the branch Amanda Waller runs #Danny is the first hero #Vlad the first villain #and Dani the first anti hero #there’s an arc where Danny is trying to fix things but clockwork won’t let him into the timestream and all the heroes are horrified #because yeah Danny is the OG but if he goes back in time to fix his ‘mistake’ what will happen to them?

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