#kids aren’t taught to care about their race

[steddieas-shegoes]

congrats on 3000!!! 🎉🍾🎊💖

For the sentence prompt: "I'm just gonna go freak out for a minute first."

Thank you!!!! ♥️

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Steve was holding his hand while the doctor checked his stitches. It wasn’t really that weird for him to be holding his hand, not since he woke up half-dead in the hospital.

It was a little weird that he was rubbing his thumb against the side of his thumb, though.

And probably a little weird that his other hand was resting on his head, a weight that was comforting and confusing all at once.

“Looks great, Eddie. I’d say by the next visit, we’ll be able to get them out and let these finish healing naturally,” the doctor smiled at him as he pulled his shirt back down.

Steve’s hand squeezed his, and he couldn’t help looking over at the sunshine in the seat next to him.

It had to be pretty obvious how he felt about Steve. He’s lucky none of the kids have caught on and started teasing him yet.

Robin has, but at least she knows to do it privately.

“I’ll have the front desk schedule you for two weeks out. You can grab an appointment card on the way out. Keep them all clean and don’t do any heavy lifting or physical activity quite yet,” the doctor reminded as she pulled off her gloves and threw them in the trash. “You boys have a nice day.”

As she left the room, Steve helped Eddie sit up slowly. He didn’t really need the help anymore, but he’d be an idiot to admit it with how much Steve touched him.

“Two more weeks, Eds! That’s better than what they thought last time,” Steve was so excited for him. His smile was lighting up the room and he looked five seconds away from bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Steve’s smile dropped at Eddie’s tone.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’ll be great to have less limits. Might be able to get the guys together for a jam session,” Eddie gave a small smile.

“But…?”

Eddie sighed. “But then you won’t be around anymore, right? Like, other than when we all hang out on movie nights. You only stuck around because no one else could really help me every day. Everyone had work or families that wouldn’t let them out of their sight.”

Steve looked heartbroken, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna leave you just because you don’t technically need me anymore,” Steve shook his head. “We’re- we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course! I mean, I thought so. But I know it could just be that you feel bad and I wouldn’t expect you to stick around because of that.”

Steve grabbed his other hand, his grip tightening on Eddie’s skin almost painfully.

“I wanna stick around for a lot of reasons, Eds.”

Eddie was caught in his gaze, his wide, pleading eyes almost too much.

“Like what?”

“Like because you’re fun to be around. You’re funny and talented and smart. You taught me about Hobbits! Love those guys,” Steve stepped closer. “You’re brave and you care about all of us. You-“ Steve swallowed. “You see me. The real me.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s heart was racing as he looked between Steve’s eyes, down to his lips where his tongue had poked out momentarily to wet them.

“You’ve seen me when my parents have come home and made me feel like shit and you just distracted me with singing whatever pop songs are on the radio and helping me cook dinner. You’ve been there when I had a two day long migraine and couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You made grocery shopping fun! I fucking hate grocery shopping, but you just keep being silly and making me laugh and I had fun.” Steve leaned in so his forehead was touching Eddie’s. “You laugh at my jokes, even when they aren’t that funny. You listen to me when no one else pays attention. You see who I am and you let me be who I am and I don’t feel scared that you’ll run.”

“I’m not running.”

“I know. I love that you aren’t, that you won’t.” Steve closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were watery. “I love you.”

Eddie was certain he was dead. Maybe the last month had all been some coma-induced dream and they finally pulled the plug. Maybe he actually died in the Upside Down and the last month was his final goodbye to everyone in his own head.

He stood up slowly, trying not to push Steve away, but having to guide him away from the table he’d been laying on.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving, right?”

“Nope. I’m just gonna go freak out for a minute first.”

“Um.”

Eddie smiled, leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, and pulled away.

“Give me a minute. This is either the most realistic dream I’ve ever had or the best day of my life.”

Steve snorted, but let him walk to the door and stand outside of it for a moment.

When Eddie came back in, his cheeks were red, but he looked determined.

He pulled Steve into him by his hips, crushed their lips together, and smiled so hard their teeth clacked against each other. It was a little messy for a first kiss, but they could get better.

“You love me? Really?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Steve laughed as they pulled apart.

“I thought I was obvious!”

“Not really. I was convinced I was imaging things! Robin had to explain to me what the hanky code was before I even believed you liked guys!”

They both laughed so hard they cried, forgetting entirely that they were still in the doctor’s examination room.

Someone knocked on the door and they broke apart quickly, trying to stop the laughter for a moment to deal with whoever was at the door.

A nurse poked her head in. “Sorry, don’t wanna rush you, but just wanted to make sure everything was okay? Did you need to see the doctor again?”

“No, no. Sorry. We’re heading out. He just needed a minute,” Steve said quickly, smiling back at her.

She nodded and left, leaving the door open as a silent reminder that they needed to disinfect the room for the next patient.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to say it just-“

“I’m not. I’m saying it because I love you. I see you, remember? There’s a lot there to love.”

Steve turned a bright red, and Eddie decided then he would do just about anything to see that shade on Steve’s cheeks and neck as often as possible.

“Let’s go home,” Steve finally said when he recovered. “Wanna kiss you more.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #asks #follower celebration #drabbles #getting together #post vecna #cw: mention of injury

[pwurrz]

if your response to seeing little black girls happy that they have a disney princess who looks like them is to faux concern and say it’s sad they’ve been conditioned to care so much about race, you may be racist!!!

also anti anti racism moments part 4847274938

#kids of colour experience racism #i wanted to be a pretty blonde girl with blue eyes growing up #because that’s what i saw everywhere #those were all the disney princesses and barbie dolls #that’s what beauty was taught to me as being #kids aren’t taught to care about their race #they learn very early on that they’re different from others #and that they’ll be treated differently #pretending this doesn’t happen and that everyone is treated equally doesn’t make it true #that’s the harsh reality of the situation #of being a child of colour #saying that children only care about their skin colour because they’re conditioned to isn’t woke #it’s not a hot take #it’s just racist and painting parents of colour who simply want to prepare their children for the real world #as predatory or bad parents #racism / #antiblackness / #anti anti receipts

[fairy-angel222]

Everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officers

—in which getting caught stealing with your boyfriend leads to three handsome officers fucking you down at the station.

pairing: officers! gojo s, choso k, nanami k. x fem! reader

cw: smut, face fucking, hair pulling, filming, praise, size difference, belly bulge, fingering.. etc

Your heart raced as you and Toji were stopped in your tracks by a cop car. Attempting to turn around only to be stopped by another swerving in front of you. “Shit. T-Toji? What do we do?”

Watching as a tall, broad officer emerged from the vehicle’s front seat, gulping hard when the blond one’s dark eyes met yours. His face stonic as he stood with his hands in his pockets, letting out a small breath when he looked you up and down.

“Toji?” Turning your head to see your boyfriend long gone, having jumped hurriedly over the hood of the car before sprinting away with the stolen money. You whimpered to yourself, backing up when he began to stalk towards you. Yelping as your back hit a broad chest, arms situating themselves around your waist to steady you. “Careful sweetheart.”

Glancing up through your lashes to see a white haired man looking down at you with a smirk, his eyebrow raised in surprise. “Now what’s a pretty little thing like you stealing for?” he hummed.

And you only looked at your feet after noticing a black haired officer speaking into his walkie talkie about a thief on the loose. Giving a detailed description of your boyfriend. The hold on your waist tightened, and you were flipped around to look up at.. a black blindfold? An idea running through your head to knee him and make a run for it.

“Don’t even think about it. I can still see you.” watching as your eyes welled with tears, your hands gripping at the hem if your shirt. “P-please don’t arrest me. I promise i’ll never do it again.” you pleaded innocently.

The man scoffed, his hand reaching up for your face, his slender fingers digging into your cheeks, “Then tell me, what’re you doing stealing huh?”

“Gojo that’s enough.” A deep voice demanded. Gojo letting go of you with the roll of his eyes. Your body immediately putting some distance between the two of you. Only to be met with the sight of the same blond officer finally making his move. His face void of emotion as his muscles bulged through his shirt. The veins on his hand extra visible when he gripped something on his belt.

Your eyes widened when he pulled out a pair of handcuffs, tilting his head down at you with his tone serious. “You can either cooperate, or i arrest you and bring you down to the station. Your pick.”

The third officer walked up to your shivering form before you could speak. Your body being sandwiched between the two towering men.

“Nanami sir, the male that was with her has been arrested. Although he was able to knock down three of our m-“ He stuttered when he caught sight of you, your glassy eyes practically begging him to tell his friends to let you go. “Uhm- our men sir.” He finished with the clear of his throat.

“Thanks Kamo.” Nanami nodded, looking back to you with a hard stare. “Look, kid. I don’t have all day. We already have your little boyfriend and we can easily take you.”

“Not a kid..” you mumbled. Rough hands making their way to your chin, “You’re really taking us for fools aren’t ya? Take her down to the station.” Nanami commanded, throwing the handcuffs to Choso before he was walking away, getting into the vehicle and driving off.

“Should have just been a good girl and answered me.” Gojo laughed, pushing you over to Choso who did as he was taught, pressing you onto the side of the police vehicle before cuffing your first wrist. Your body twisting and turning making him groan, feeling his dick growing hard in his pants.

“W-wait! I’m sorry! I promise i’m a good girl— not a bad guy. Just please don’t arrest me.” you begged, hearing the click of the cuffs on your second wrist before you were being pushed into the back seat. Gojo looking at you through the rearview mirror. “It’s a bit too late for that don’t you think?” Allowing Choso to sit in the vehicle before speeding off. Some officer.

The whole ride was filled with your tiny sniffles as you asked to be let go in all different ways. Each one being met by a stern no which had you letting out a whine.

“You do a whole lotta talking for my liking.” Gojo sighed, “Makes me wanna fill your mouth with my cock to shut you up.” Smirking when that made you stop with panicked eyes.

When you arrived at the station. You were pulled through a hallway and past a room where you saw Toji. Anger on his face as he attempted to get up, scowling at the snickering officer when he was stopped by two pairs of handcuffs.

You were brought into another room, seeing Nanami already sitting there going through your file, his head turning to you, Gojo and Choso when he heard the slam of the door. “She’s still quiet i see.”

“She actually started talking, told her i’d make her suck my dick if she didn’t stop.” Gojo grinned, Nanami shaking his head as you were brought to sit in front of him. Gojo at your side and Choso leaned against the door.

“So.” The man started, clasping his hands on the desk with a sigh. “I see this isn’t your first time being arrested. Mind telling me why?”

You looked down at the glass top with a shrug, “i don’t know.”

Nanami motioned to Choso and Gojo with a nod. Choso closing the blinds of the stretch of glass connecting the room to the hallway. While Gojo pulled you up effortlessly, taking your place on the chair with you in his lap.

“Let’s try this again, mind telling me why?” You chewed at your lip, ignoring Gojo’s hot breath on your neck. “I did drugs, i drove while drunk when i was 15, i’ve shoplifted many times.” You listed shyly, watching as Nanami nodded along to your words.

“Nnh- ahh” you mewled when two fingers squeezed at your clit through your skirt, your thighs clenching as you shifted on the man’s lap. “God, I could do this all day.” Gojo whispered.

Nanami closed your file and slid it to the side, standing up and making his way in front of you. Stroking his thumb on your lip, “You’re really making things worse for yourself. Want to know what these records show?” He started, your eyes fixated on his body as he unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt.

“They show that you’ve never done anything wrong.” His thumb slipping past your lips, “Show that you’re just a naive soul who covered for her friends and boyfriend on multiple occasions.” Looking up at his eyes through your lashes. “Show that you’re a good girl who trusts too easily.” He finished, watching you whimper underneath Gojo’s touch on your clit as you sucked lightly at his thumb. Your eyes closing with a hum.

“Do you think you’re a good girl baby?”

You nodded, “A very good girl, officer.” you muffled out past his finger, the eye contact never breaking until Gojo spoke. “I think she deserves an apology, doesn’t she?”

Nanami hummed a small yes, removing his finger from your lips and replacing it with his mouth instead. Kissing you softly as his hand reached up to wrap around your neck. Keeping your head steady as you moaned into him, tongues lewdy curling around each other.

Gojo grinned widely. “The fun’s finally getting started.” His eyes falling on Choso who stood red faced in the corner, his dick noticeably hard in his pants as Gojo ushered him over. “Kamo come here.”

Your mind felt fuzzy, wetness pooling between your legs as the large hand around your neck tightened at the sides. Letting out another moan when Gojo’s hand slipped under your skirt, running his fingers along your puffy folds through your panties.

“She’s soaked already.” he announced, chuckling when you mewled at the announcement, your face beginning to heat up.

“And don’t worry that pretty little head about that boyfriend of yours. You’re not the only one he’s been-“

“Gojo..” Nanami warned, his lips still moving against yours. Your heart tightened, eyes threatening to well up with tears as your suspicions were confirmed. Choso’s hand stroked your hair, “Don’t worry about that kay? Just focus on us.”

Gojo’s fingers began rubbing small circles on your clit, tearing your panties off of you when it began getting in his way. Nanami pulled away from your lips with a small smirk, sinking down to his knees in front of you.

Placing your legs onto his shoulders before bringing his face to your dripping cunt. “Make as much noise as you’s like. No one can hear us.”

His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe up your slit. A soft moan escaped your lips when he licked another. “Tastes like fucking heaven.” Gradually increasing his pace until he was lapping at your juices, his skilled tongue feasting on your wetness while Gojo kept up his pace in your swollen clit.

Your head fell back with a mewl, bringing your hands to the blond’s hair but stopped by the metal around your skin. You whimpered, “C-cuffs.”

Gojo groaned into your neck, grinding his clothed cock up into your ass. “Nah, like you better with them on.”

You moaned, back arching against Gojo when Nanami inserted two of his thick fingers into you. Curling them in and out directly onto your spot, your mouth hanging open in a string of cries when he began fucking them into your tightness.

Your noises were cut short by an angry red tip tapping your lips, Choso lightly taking hold of your head to help you sit up. His cock nestled between your parted lips waiting for you to take him in.

“Atta boy.” Gojo mused, watching as Choso pushed his cock further past your lips, a soft gag leaving your throat as he allowed you to adjust to his length. Only half of his cock being able to fit in your snug mouth. Choso moaned, your tongue swirling around his pre cum tip as you suckled on the mushroom head. Beginning to bob your head up and down without the use of your hands to keep you steady, your tongue licking along his vein each time you came back up.

A mewl sounded at the back of your tongue, the noise sending vibrations through Choso’s cock.

Your back arched as a coil built up in your stomach, your trembling legs being held apart by strong hands as your toes curled. Your hips jerking back and forth on Gojo’s lap as the pads of Nanami’s fingers pressed into your g spot. Him holding them in position by simply moving his fingertips on and off.

You cried out loudly around the cock in your mouth, drool running past your swollen lips and down your chin, Gojo leaning to lick it off your skin. “Nnhmf—“ you muffled, your eyes closing as you neared the edge. “ ‘mf closhe.”

The three men watched as your breathing sped up, unable to focus when Choso grabbed hold of your hair and manually fucked his cock down your throat. Careful enough to not hurt you.

You whimpered once more with a choked cry, your body spasming uncontrollably as you squirted onto the blond’s chin. Him groaning into you as he lapped it all up, locking his grip on your thighs when you tried to close your legs around his head.

“Oh hoho, look at her.” Gojo teased, “Can’t stop squirming, think we’re overstiming her. Are we, sweet thing?”

You nodded tearfully, Gojo kissing and biting at your neck while you sucked Choso off. His eyes met Nanami’s, both the men releasing you at the same time making you let out a shaky breath.

“We’re not done with you yet.”

Choso moaned as he neared his release, his abs tensing under his shirt and his cock twitching on your tongue. His head falling back with a loud groan before he was pulling out, fisting his cock roughly then cumming all over your pretty face. The sticky substance falling onto your now exposed chest thanks to Gojo.

Choso’s body quivered lightly as he finished spilling, his face quickly turning red again when he straightened his head to find both his colleagues smirking at him.

Gojo grinned, “Great, my turn.” standing up with you against him, kicking back the chair before bending you over, ready to line his aching cock up with your sopping pussy.

You whimpered when he roughly spread your legs with his knee, your hands still cuffed securely behind your back as your face met cold glass.

Gojo cursed as he eased himself into you. “So fucking tight, shit.” he groaned, fucking sloppily into your pussy with no mercy. His painfully hard cock begging for a release ever since he sat you on his lap.

Gojo’s hand reached up in your hair, pulling you up against him as he slammed into you. Your back arching against his chest with a loud mewl. Gojo watched as your ass bounced with each hit of his hips, your head thrown back onto his chest as you filled the room with high pitched moans.

Your pussy clenched when he brought his hand to your tits, fumbling and groping at the soft flesh before twisting your nipples between your fingers. Pulling out a cry from you at the sensation. Gojo’s pace never slowed its abuse to your tightness. Bullying his cock deeper inside you with a string of grunts.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your loud cries mixed with Gojo’s grunts as he tugged at both your nipples and your hair. You could feel his tip grazing into your walls with each of his harsh thrusts onto your ass.

Your breaths getting heavy as you neared yet another orgasm. “Nn—nnhg, f-fuckk.”

“Language.”

You trembled with a scream of pleasure, clenching down on the white haired man’s cock as he breathed into your neck with deep throaty moans.

You let out whimper after whimper, your legs feeling like jelly as your knees buckled. “Hahhh— nng, close. Ah- ‘m close.” feeling the pressure on your gummy spot intensifying greatly. “A-ahh— nnh, cumming,” you mewled, lips parted in whiny noises as you came.

Gojo groaned, “Shit- clenching down so hard on me. Gonna break my fucking cock sweetheart.” his thrusts lacking any rhythm as he too neared his orgasm. “Come on, fuck, give it to me.” he rasped.

Your eyes rolling back as you gripped onto his shirt through your handcuffs. Your short moans matching his thrusts as your pussy gushed messily around him.

“That’s it.” he dragged out, slowing his thrusts until he was pulling out of your drenched cunt. Pushing you down onto your knees by your shoulders, “open.” Stroking his cock lightly when you obeyed and spilling onto your awaiting tongue while watching you swallow. “Good girl.” as he steadied his breathing. “She’s all yours,” he said to Nanami.

Your eyes moving behind the tall man to find Nanami sat on a chair with his cock in hand stroking to the sight. And Choso leaned onto the gray walls with his shirt in between his teeth as he did the same as Nanami.

“Come here.” Nanami husked. And you stood on shaky legs to waddle over to him. Your eyes widening at his massive cock, its girth the size of your wrist and its length the same as your forearm. Noticing your hesitation, Nanami chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

His hands found their way onto your hips as he guided you over his lap. A scared whimper falling past your lips when he lined you up with his rock hardness.

“Look at me. You can take it okay? Just be a good girl and relax.”

You sucked in a deep breath and nodded, wincing loudly as he sunk you down onto his cock. Your pussy aching at the stretch to let him in. “Ahh-“ you cried, small tears escaping your eyes as he bottomed you down onto him. Feeling his tip poking against the skin of your stomach.

“Holy shit.” Gojo whistled, “She’s fucking bulging.”

You mewled, looking down to see the outline of Nanami’s tip in your belly. The large man simply glaring at his colleague who only smirked.

Large hands held onto your ass, whispering soothing praises into your ear as he helped you grind up and down with the rocking of your hips. You began moaning as the pain slowly subsided. Pleasure filling your veins as Nanami made you ride him faster bit by bit. Feeling the veins of his cock grazing your sensitive walls with each movement.

You let out a string of loud cries, your hips arching when Nanami landed a slap to your skin. “You’re a real good girl, you know that? Obeying the men of the law. You’re a perfect one.” He groaned.

Gojo sat on the table behind you, his camera zoomed into the stretch of your pussy from the back. Nanami unknowingly spreading your cheeks to give off an even better view.

Choso’s cock prodded at your lips, his precum smearing onto your lips.

“Kamo. Don’t wanna save that for her pussy?” Gojo questioned, Choso shaking his head no with a desperate moan. “Uh uh, love her mouth too much.” Your lips parting to suck him into your throat with a hum.

Choso groaned, thrusting lightly into your mouth, his length throbbing when your tongue suckled at his tip. Nanami quickened your pace of rutting on his cock. Your noises drowned out by the youngest officer’s cock.

Your pussy clenched impossibly tighter. Creamy white covering his cock from top to bottom. Your pussy creaming his length with your clit being stimulated by its rubbing on the region near his base.

Gojo made sure to capture it all. Choso fucking into your throat and you milking Nanami’s cock. With mic picking up Choso’s moans and Nanami’s deep grunts.

Your body trembled, body filled with heat as you came undone. Whimpers bubbling in your throat and your eyes rolling back. The sound of your cuffs shaking entering your ears when your fists gripped literal air.

“Come on.” Nanami groaned, “Cum for us.”

You let out a silent breathy cry, your pussy spraying its cream filled liquid onto the man’s thighs and pants.

Choso followed not too long after you, finding it in him to force you to take all of him into your mouth with a gag before pumping his cum straight down your throat. Some of his cum spilling messily at the sides of your lips when he removed himself from the warmth.

Nanami rolled you onto him a few more times, his cock twitching within the depths of your cunt before effortlessly lifting you off of him and settling you closer to his knees. Giving his large cock a wrist circling stroke before his cock was releasing spurts of cum into the air and onto your tits and stomach with a dragged out groan.

The three of you panted, Gojo setting down his phone after saving the video to his eyes only then walking over to you with a key to remove your handcuffs. You fell forward as your body went limp, your palms feeling Nanami’s hard chest under his work shirt as you stabilized yourself.

The white haired man pressed a short kiss to your head. “Did so well.”

After helping you get cleaned up, the trio walked you out of the room. A slight limp in your step as you were brought into the main room. There you spotted Toji, who practically charged towards you. Slapping Choso’s hand off your waist and pulling you into his side. “Don’t touch my girl.”

Choso only walked away before giving you a look. And you sucked in a deep breath before you spoke, “Toji-“

“Before you say what you have to say baby, they charged us for robbery.” Kissing you softly on the same spot Gojo did. “Got any money to get us out of this.”

Just as you were about to speak, a voice echoed through the room. “Y/n L/n? You’re free to go.”

You gave Toji a tight lipped smile while scratching at your arm. “Sorry Toji.. i don’t have any. And since i didn’t do anything wrong i don’t see why i should be kept either.”

Toji looked at you in disbelief. A smirk eventually gracing his face. “Didn’t think you had that in ya.” Watching as you were escorted out by a blond officer who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He would have to use his one call on one of his recent flings to pay the fine.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #gojo x reader smut #nanami kento smut #choso kamo smut

[joeythefrog]

Ok one thing I don’t like all that much in the newsies fandom is the characterisation of Crutchie

He is not your sweet ‘smol’ boy, he is not pure and gentle, he isn’t wholesome.

What I think they forget is that he is a street kid, he is a newsie

Newsies, who pride themselves on being vulgar and having the filthiest mouths possible that they keep hidden when they spin a sob story. Newsies, who decided that since society didn’t want them they would hang with all that society didn’t want. Historically speaking they were chilling with pretty much any marginalised group because they weren’t in a place to look down on anyone. Having not lived lives where it was taught that some were better than others and knowing first hand how wrong that was. They genuinely didn’t care what you were or did.

Crutchie was a newsie. Newsies, who would whisper the most disgusting sexual thing they could think of in one another’s ears in public. Newsies, who cackled in the bunk rooms because of some sort of sexual or fetishised deviation from the norm, lengthy conversations about the morality of it, because they are teenage boys and he has his right to be gross. Newsies, who would steal whatever they needed because ‘hey what’s a penny out a corporate man’s pocket’, boys who tussled constantly, who would definitely have very little actual boundaries.

Newsies who defiantly don’t hide deviance when they can, priding themselves on their foul mouth able to spit out venom that makes proper society step back in disgust. Who tussle and bite, who are not wholesome because they aren’t allowed to be if they want to survive

Boys who have grown tough from sleeping in the streets, only unsold papes to cushion them (that’s historically accurate)

Crutchie is one of them

Characterise Crutchie as someone who pokes his tongue out and chucked with a murmur of ‘sucker’ every time he gets pity cash, let him smack people with his crutch, whisper vulgar details of what he heard Race and Spot got up to in Brooklyn, let him act like a damn teenage boy who is every bit as deviant and chaotic as every other newsie has the right to be.

And do not let his crutch and kind smile put on to comfort those who need it infantilise him

#crutchie morris #let him be a teenage boy #newsies #fansies #analysis #a plea to the fandom #honestly he could be such an interesting character to discuss subtle ablilisum in fandoms with #he is not a sunshine child he is an asshole #and he has a right to that #newsies fandom

[agentsnickers]

stille nacht

Christmas is a complicated time, Race thinks.

He wants to look forward to it, to remember past holidays fondly. There were good Christmases when he was young, when even the factories were closed and his family would pull together a nicer meal than usual, with extra pennies saved up for months. But those Christmases are as long gone as the fading image he has of his parents, of his siblings.

Christmas now is more worry than wonder - will he have enough money to eat, to pay for a bed? Will he have a jacket that fits or shoes that aren’t worn through? Will all his friends make it through the winter?

And even beyond the worries, there is work. Race has made it his own duty to get the younger boys presentable for Mass (the ones who go, at least, as a fair chunk of the boys aren’t Catholic or even Christian). He gets them all sorted into their least shabby clothes, jackets on and scarves - for those that have them - straight and neat.

Jack sits next to him at church. They’ve made Midnight Mass the tradition, right and proper like Race’s Mama always insisted. Christmas morning is for carols. Jack fidgets, always. He doesn’t always come on Sunday anymore - most boys don’t, the money too tight and the draw too little. Race doesn’t let him skip Christmas or Easter, though, and Jack only pretends to whine about it because he knows it’s important to Race that they go together.

So Jack sits next to him on one side - fidgeting, stumbling through prayers because he barely comes nowadays - and he’s got one of the littlest boys on the other, a recent orphan sniffling his way through Adeste Fideles. The little one mumbles something to Race after about his Papa liking that one, and Race pulls him into his side, pressing his cheek against his hair to murmur comfort and not caring when a lady turns and shushes them from the row in front.

“Anyone wanna carol in the morning?” Race offers as they troop back to the house, the little one still tucked close under his arm.

There’s a few vague responses, largely in favor, and then suddenly some of the older boys are running up ahead fa-la-la-ing entirely too loudly for the hour. Race laughs. He’s glad to have someone to remind him of the fun of all this, when it’s so easy to get lost in the rest of it.

By the time they’re back in the lodging house, it has calmed somewhat from bright, playful fa-la-las to Mike and Ike trying to teach the other boys the words to Silent Night in the original German, the way their mother taught them.

Race curls up in bed, listening to the sound of soft voices with clumsy accents gently echoing the lullaby back to their teachers. He’s always liked that one, and sung by the boys it’s easy to imagine Him as a poor kid, too.

They get looks in the church sometimes - none of them as put together as they’d like to be, though Race makes sure they’re all clean and relatively presentable - like the better-off people wish they didn’t have to remember that poor kids with no parents can be godly too.

At Christmas, Race thinks, the kids with no place to go and complicated parentage are probably the most like Him out of everyone.

He lets the boys’ carols lull him to sleep, thinking of the morning. They’ll go out and hope for generous passersby to toss them a coin or two, bright voices and pink faces in the crisp winter air enough to win a sympathetic soul. Maybe there will even be snow.

(It’s early enough in the season yet for snow to still be fun and not stressful, not worn down into slush that seeps into shoes or hiding icy patches that could take Crutchie down for days.)

Race’s family feel like a pleasant memory - his siblings’ voices mingling with the boys’, his mother’s favorite Mass of the year finished - rather than a heavy shadow lingering with him.

Christmas is complicated, but tonight all is calm. All is bright.

The rest he can sort in the morning.

#merry christmas everyone :) #this is a little bit character study a little bit holiday musing #racetrack higgins #newsies #finn writes fic #ft. catholic race. he's always catholic but it's kind of the whole fic this time #also ft. me looking up when silent night was translated into english

[mcdannoangelwolf]

That’s a great idea with the prompts to keep yourself in a writing mode, J! I‘m sending you McDanno Steve/Danny! Yay! Thank you a lot!

@cowandcalf Thank you SO Much for this prompt. It was fun. Your Pokemon number came up to a Pokemon called Archeops. A Fossil Pokemon. This story turned into less of a focus on it and more of story about many Fossil Pokemon lol. I hope that's ok!

At the end of the story are pics of the all the Pokemon featured. I'll name them as well lol. Most of the info i give about the pokemon in this story is from Bulbapedia. Some of it is my own headcanon.

This story may or may not be set in my future Pokemon Fusion. None of Teams Pokemon are mentioned in it. It could also be in the same universe of Charizard. For now it is just a stand alone.

“Danno, Danno, guess what!” Danny had just enough time to put the knife down and turn around before Charlie was barreling into him. Thankfully he had the counter to brace against as Charlie all but climbed him. 

 “Whoa, whoa bud. Careful now. You know Danno’s got a dodgy knee.” Danny admonished gently as he secured Charlie to his hip. 

 “Sorry, Danno. Are you okay? I can get down. I just wanted to show you.” Charlie wiggled to hop back to the floor but Danny just held on. 

 “Its fine son, what did you want to show me?” Danny asked, keeping his boy right where he was. Charlie was growing like a weed. He wouldn’t be able to do this kind of thing much longer. 

 “Look what we found at the store.” Charlie waved a crumpled flyer Danny had previously ignored in favor of not toppling over. Danny took it and had to immediately fight the urge to groan. It was an advert for the Fossil Restoration Center. The facility was finally opening up for tours.

 “Can we go Danno, can we please?” Charlie asked, batting his eyes at him like Danny was sure Grace taught him. 

 Danny knew this day would come as soon as the place was announced. Charlie loved “dinosaur” pokémon so he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no.  He could, however, stall. 

 “We’ll talk about it after dinner kiddo. Now, where’s Steve? Did you leave him at the store and run here?” Danny asked as he sat his son back on the floor. 

 “No, but the rascal did leave me to carry the groceries in on my own.” Steve appeared, carrying two canvas shopping bags, smiling like a madman. 

 “Sorry, sorry!” Charlie yelped before racing toward the garage, “I got it!” 

 Danny just shook his head, he loved that kid, and moved to take one of the bags from Steve. 

 “Did he show you the flyer?” Steve asked him, excited. With Steve, Danny could; and did, roll his eyes. 

 “Yes, he gave me the flyer. I told him we’d talk about it after dinner. Hopefully, he’ll forget about it.” Danny replied, setting the bag down to unload. 

 “Come on Danno, don’t be that way.” Danny could hear the playful pout in Steve’s voice. 

 Danny just rolled his eyes and went back to prepping dinner. 

 *** 

 Charlie, much to Danny’s annoyance, didn’t forget. He spent the entirety of dinner rhapsodizing about Fossil Pokémon and the Restoration Center. Danny did his best to steer his son toward other areas of conversation; his school work, his surfing lessons, and Grace's training, but Charlie wouldn’t be deterred. Steve, the traitor, just sat and smiled serenely the entire time. By the time dinner was over Danny was agreeing to go for a tour as soon as Grace came back from Trainer Camp. 

 “You know,” Steve called from the en-suite as Danny lay back on their bed, “you’ve never actually told me what your issue with Fossil Pokémon is.” 

 “Jurassic Park, Steven. Jurassic Park.” Danny replied without looking away from the phone. He was looking for any reason he could find to avoid going to the Restoration Center. 

 “Fossil Pokémon aren’t the same as dinosaurs Danny.” Steve appeared in the doorway, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, before ducking back in. 

 “I’m pretty sure Tyrantrum were close to T-Rex size. And Kabutops have blades for hands.” Danny finally gave it up as a lost cause and tossed his phone onto the bedside table. 

 “The Restoration Center doesn’t have a Tyrantrum Danno,” Steve smiled as he swaggered out of the bathroom in just his boxer briefs, “And Kabutops only attack underwater. Pretty sure the tours won’t be going into the water.” 

 Steve sprawled out on the bed next to him and wrapped an arm around his waist before speaking again. 

 “Come on Danno, give me the real reason.” Danny groaned up at the ceiling before finally caving in, resigned to sounding like a dumbass. 

 “I don’t know ok? I just...I don’t like them. I feel like it’s unnatural. Fossil Pokémon are and should be, just that. Fossils. Just because something can be done doesn’t mean it should be done. What’s next, reviving pets or god forbid people?” Danny knew he was ranting a bit but he had been holding this in for a long time. 

 “Okay so your issue is less chaotic rampage and more Jeff Goldblum,” Steve replied after a while and Danny gave a halfhearted ‘yes’ in return, “I understand that. I do. And I’m not gonna try and sway you. You know the science behind fossil revival as well as I do. How and why it works with pokes’ and only pokes’. I’m also not going to try and debate the ethics of fossil revival with you because, honestly, I don’t care about them enough to have a real opinion about them.” Steve told him quietly and Danny breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to get into an ethical debate on the issue. Or any debate on the issue.

 “But I am going to admonish you to try and not rain on Charlie’s parade. He loves dinosaurs and fossil pokes’. In a few years, he’ll, probably, grow out of it. When he’s older you can talk about it. For now, just let him enjoy it.” 

Danny rolled onto his side to face Steve as his partner spoke and when he finished Danny scooted in and pressed a kiss to Steve’s nose. 

 “I plan to do my utmost best not to be a tool about it. But I’m gonna need you and your nerdy enthusiasm to run interference for me.” Danny told him and Steve grinned wide. 

 “That is going to be very easy because I am stoked about this. I’ve been waiting for them to open for tours. I’m hoping that we see Rampardos and Bastiodon. I love those guys…” Danny just groaned and buried his face in the pillow as Steve went on. 

### 

 “Welcome to the Fossil Restoration Center, my name is Silver and I’ll be your tour guide for the day.” Danny had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the ginger-haired tour guide's overly cheery attitude. He had been dreading this trip since agreeing to it. True to his word though he had been putting on a brave face and not letting Charlie see how much he hated the idea of the place. Steve, bless him, made it a lot easier. Anytime Charlie brought up the trip Steve was fast to swoop in so they could geek out together. 

 ‘You never know Danno,’ Grace had told him once she found out about the trip after returning from camp, ‘Once you get there and see them, learn about them, maybe you’ll change your mind.’ 

 Danny had half-heartedly agreed with his daughter but privately believed otherwise. Still, as a trainer himself, he was determined to at least try and if not enjoy himself then to at least learn something. 

 It was easier than he had expected it to be. Charlie and Steve were by and large the most enthusiastic of not only the four of them but of their tour group as a whole and stayed mostly toward the front. This let Danny stay toward the back of the group, Grace keeping him company, and take in the exhibits on his own. 

 The underwater exhibits, a Plexiglas tunnel through the habitat, was pretty cool. Grace, favoring grass and fairy types, had enjoyed learning about Lileep and Cradily. Charlie’s face had been pressed against the glass so hard, watching the Armaldo and Kabutops swim that Danny swore he was going to sieve through it. Even Steve stood awestruck, turning in place to try and see as much as he could. 

 Above the underwater exhibits were touch tanks with Kabuto and Omanyte. Danny had come close to losing his shit when Silver encouraged them to interact with the pokémon but stopped when the guide explained. 

 “Kabuto, unlike their evolved forms, dwelled on the sea floor. We’ve learned that they are largely filter feeders but also used their tusks to dig food from the sand. Likely ancient crustacean pokémon. Omanyte, unlike Omastar, feeds off plankton and fish eggs. They are very docile with humans and while Kabuto seems to like being left alone, Omanyte rather enjoys interaction.” 

 Despite knowing it was safe Danny couldn’t help but hover closely as Charlie stroked the back of a few Kabuto. It was also a prime location to watch two Omanyte try and climb up Steve’s arm. 

 Outside, in the pasture zone, Danny was thrilled when Steve got his wish. A medium-sized herd of Bastiodon and Shieldon lazed around the in the sun. Further on, in a more securely fenced paddock, a small group of Rampardos and Cranidos resided. 

 “We’ve learned that Bastiodon and Sheildon are very docile, herbivores, and very social. Shieldon, both bred and revived, are cared for and looked after by all the adults in the group. We have three family groups here, each consisting of two Bastiodon and three Shieldon. From our study, we believe that ancient groups would have consisted of groups roughly the same size. The pokémon here have been socialized with humans for years so we have a small group that you’ll be able to feed and interact with shortly.” Silver explained and Danny once more had to swallow hard at the idea of his kids around the shield-faced pokémon.

 “What about the Cranidos and Rampardos?” Steve asked and Danny smiled at the excitement in his partner's voice. 

 “The Cranidos line, we’ve observed, is much more aggressive than the Shieldon line. They are very competitive, head-butting not only each other but also their environment. They live in small family groups, no larger than four. They are omnivorous but lean more toward meat than plants. At the moment only Center Trainers are allowed to interact with them. However, we will be getting a closer look once feeding time is over.” Silver explained and Danny swore Steve looked a little disappointed at not being able to get closer. 

 Danny watched as Steve’s disappointment evaporated once they reached the observation area of the paddock. They all watched as Cranidos and Rampardos ran around the area, head-butting one another as well as the steel walls and large rocks of the paddock. The clangs and thuds they made were so loud that Danny cringed. He knew the mons’ skulls were thick but he still marveled at how unaffected the pokémon seemed after the hits. 

 Afterward, they left the paddock and, much to Danny’s general alarm, walked through the larger area where the Bastiodon and Shieldon grazed, to a smaller paddock. There one of the larger Bastiodon lay in a shady spot while four Shieldon ran around playing. 

 “This handsome fellow here is Bruno,” Silver remarked as he walked over to the Bastiodon and patted its side, “He evolved from the very first Shieldon revived here. He’s big, lazy, and very friendly. He spends most of his days eating and sleeping. However, he spends most of his nights guarding the rest of the group, walking the perimeter of their sleeping areas.” 

 Several of the group laughed and even Danny chuckled, finding himself liking the big behemoth. 

 “Can we…can we touch him?” Danny focused on his son as Charlie piped up. 

 “Yes, but just a few at a time. He’s very friendly and loves visitors, but we try not to overwhelm him. You can also grab a few Berries and sit, try to attract some of the Shieldon. These are some of the older ones so they’re more used to humans.” Silver explained and Danny watched as both Steve and Charlie all but ran to grab some berries while most of the group queued up to meet Bruno. 

 While Grace queued up to meet Bruno Danny hung back to watch Steve and Charlie. Both sat cross-legged in the grass and brandished their berries. One of the pokémon climbed right into Charlie’s lap without hesitation and ate the Berries from his hand. Two others all but tackled Steve, pushing at him and each other with their heads. It was a rare thing that could rip Danny’s focus from his children but as Steve’s face lit up in a beatific smile, loud laughter roaring out of him, Danny had eyes for no one else. 

 “Danno, Danno you gotta come pet these guys. They’re awesome!” Steve called, breaking Danny out of his thoughts. With all eyes on him Danny knew that he couldn’t say no so, slowly, he walked over and knelt between Charlie and Steve. Reaching out to one of the two in Steve’s lap he was surprised when one of the Shieldon immediately butt its head into his palm. From the light sheen of the mon’s head, he had expected to feel the cold metallic skin of a steel-type. Instead, it was warm and dense, almost like really thick leather over rock. It was very sturdy but had just the slightest bit of give to it.  

 “I want one,” Steve told him with a smile and Danny just grinned. 

 “You can add your name to the waiting list, but we’re still a few years away from breeding for trainers,” Silver said from above them and Danny looked up to find the guide standing near them. 

 “Really?” Danny could have groaned aloud at the eagerness in Steve’s voice. 

 “Yes. We plan to offer breeding for certain species within the next few years. Shieldon is at the top of the list. You can ask about it at the registration desk. For now, we should be moving on.” Silver addressed the last to the group at large. 

 Danny helped Steve and Charlie to their feet and let the nearby handlers herd the Shieldon away. 

 The last stop on the tour was a large, domed, cage that they were all ushered into. Inside was a large stand of trees around a deep pond with lots of bushes and flowers scattered around.  

 “Ok all, here is where things might get disappointing,” Silver addressed the group as they stepped close to the pond, pulling a silver whistle out of the pocket of their lab coat, “This is the Aviary, in here lives a few pods of Archeops and Archen. The Archen are very friendly, but Archeops are more standoffish. They’ve never attacked anyone, but they tend to keep hidden and keep the rest of the pod with them. I’ll try calling for them.” With that Silver used the whistle, letting out several short bursts. 

 Danny waited, along with the rest of the group, for several moments. After a couple of minutes, Silver blew the whistle again. This time Danny thought he saw some movement in the trees but, once again, nothing appeared. 

 “Well folks, sadly, it seems like they won’t be showing today. If you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them. We may get lucky if we wait a few moments.” 

 Several people raised their hands but Danny tuned out the Q&A. He was hoping they would move on soon. If he was being honest his knee was starting to bother him and he was getting a bit hungry. He didn’t want to risk turning into a grouch and ruining the kids' day. 

 “Hey, what’s that?” Charlie's voice brought Danny out of his musings and he craned his head around just in time to see his son break off from the group and shoot toward a clump of bushes nearby. 

 “Charlie, don’t,” Danny called out just as Steve called for the boy to wait. Both he and Steve moved to follow Charlie but before they could get more than a few steps Charlie was already on his way back, having stooped to pick something up from the shade of the bushes. 

 “I think he’s sick, or hurt.” Charlie offered and Danny almost swallowed his tongue as he saw the small blue and red head of an Archen rubbing against Charlie's shirt. 

 “Buddy, you shouldn’t do tha-“ Steve started, Danny was still in too much shock to speak, but he was cut off by a shrill call.

 “AAAARCHEOOOOPS!” An Archeops jumped from the trees and made a mad dash toward Charlie. Danny’s hand went to the pokeball at his belt, and he saw Steve, a few feet ahead of him do the same. 

 The Archeops was fast though, faster than Danny would have given credit to the gangly bird-like ‘mon, and before either of them could act it was standing in front of Charlie. Standing a few inches shorter than Charlie the ‘mon craned its head back to look him in the eye. Danny couldn’t help but picture the raptors from Jurassic park as the Archeops bobbed its green and red head toward his son. 

 “Here, he was in the bushes, alone.” Charlie, without a hint of fear, held out the tiny Archen to the Archeops. Danny, having halted when the pokémon got within striking distance of his son, crept closer as the Archeops dipped its head into Charlie’s cupped hands; sniffing and nuzzling at the Archen. 

 As Danny got within arm's length of his son the Acheops suddenly reared back and to the side, eyes fixed on him as it ran around Charlie to stand between him and his son. 

 “What the hell, you overgrown chicken, that’s my kid.” Danny hissed at the Archeops. The Archeops, in reply, just puffed up and hissed back at Danny. Danny was shocked as the ‘mon ruffled its feathers and spread its wings, obviously trying to block Charlie from his view. 

 “Melvin, that’s enough of that,” Danny kept his eyes on the agitated Archeops as Silver walked over to them, “If you’d keep better track of Herbert this wouldn’t happen.” He again addressed the pokémon before turning to Danny. 

 “I’m sorry sir, this is Melvin, one of the first revived pokémon here at the center. The fluff ball in, I’m assuming your son’s hands, is his hatchling. Herbert.” Silver gestured between the Archen in Charlie’s hands and the Arcehops between them. 

 “So that’s why the big feather duster won’t let me near my kid?” Danny questioned and Silver nodded. 

 “Melvin is very protective of his chick. He’s also very fond of children overall. He must think you’re…intimidating.” Silver offered with a shrug. 

 “The poke’ has no idea.” Danny heard Steve say quietly, followed by several snickers from the tour group. 

 Danny fumed silently, trying to understand how he had come to be fighting an overgrown chicken for his kid. Before he could come up with anything Charlie’s hand appeared on top of Archeops blue-green head. 

 “That’s my Danno, Melvin. He’s great.” Danny watched as Charlie stroked the ‘mon’s head and neck as he spoke. The…Melvin deflated under the touch, wings folded and head craned into Charlie's touch. 

 Danny knelt as Charlie circled the ‘mon, still stroking his head with one hand while he cradled the tiny Archen to his chest with the other. 

 “He’s awfully small, are they always that small when they hatch?” Danny found himself asking. The Archen was so small it could probably fit in a Pokeball without dematerializing. 

 “Sadly no,” Silver replied with a sigh, “Herbert is unusually small. We’re unsure why. He’s quite adventurous for his size, always running about the Aviary. Despite Melvin’s attempts to keep him in his nest. He tires quickly, usually dropping on the spot where he stands.” 

 “So he’s not sick?” Charlie questioned, looking down at the tiny bird ‘mon snoozing in his hand. 

 “No, he’s not sick. He’s probably been exploring all morning. He’s just tired.” Silver respond and Charlie smiled. 

 Before Danny could say anything else the Archen roused and gave a few short chirps. In response, Melvin gave a rumbled purr and leaned to nuzzle his beak against it. Danny watched in fascination as the two pre-historic mon’ chirped and rumbled at each other for a few moments. After a bit, Herbert stood up in Charlie's palm and hopped onto Melvin’s head. He ambled over Melvin’s head, slid down his neck, and nestled down on his back. 

 “Arch arp.” Melvin rumbled out, leaning to nuzzle his head and beak against Charlie's chest and shoulder, making the boy giggle. 

  After that Melvin straightened up, and gave Danny what was unmistakably a glare, before turning and taking off back into the trees. 

 As they left the Center a short while later, Steve and Charlie talking at high speed together about the Shieldon, Archen, and Archeops, Danny knew that he’d be inquiring about an Archen for Charlie when his son was Trainer age.

For those on mobile the Pokemon are Archen, Archeops, Omanyte, Omastar, Kabuto, Kabutops, Lileep, Cradily, Armaldo, Cranidos, Ramparts, Shieldon, and Bastiodon.

#H50 #Hawaii 5-0 #McDanno #Danny Williams #Steve McGarrett #Charlie Williams #Grace Williams #McDanno fic #My writing #J Writes #Markuse88 Writes #H50 Pokemon Fusion

[bi-leth-eisner]

When will the 3H fandom specifically the Ladlestans realize that saying that a race deserves genocide/extinction for "not being human" and for "secretly controlling humanity" is an unforgivably scummy message that's gotten worse given the rise of anti-semitism and racism nowadays? Screw that, Seteth Flayn and Rhea are more human than they could ever be.

THIS.

“lizard ‘people’ who control the government humanity...” do they not see what’s wrong with saying that? do they realise it’s bad, but don’t care? do they think they aren’t anywhere near the wrong? dehumanizing the Nabateans fully like how nazis describe Jewish people, like. at some point you HAVE to realise it. you have to know what you’re saying is so similar to shit like that eventually. and that isn’t even touching race...

...this is a very sensitive topic for me.

[tw for su*c*de, r*pe below.]

a lot of people in my family, including myself, face racism one way or another each day. my father works the same amount of hours as his white coworkers and gets half the pay. my mother often gets called belittling names like whore or old hag simply because she isn’t white. my uncle was told he was a nothing but a burden to everyone he loved while in school and tried to commit su//c//de as a teenager, and often talked about wanting to do it again in his final months of living. i’ve been asked if i was mentally challenged because i live where i do, in a part in Canada where Inuktitut is taught alongside English to Inuit kids from the very start. both my parents and multiple cousins were r//ped or molested by white men while they were under the age of 10, and nobody besides them wants to acknowledge it beyond a “this is bad.” the government doesn’t like us. some hospitals don’t care for our health and let Inuk people in critical condition die on purpose. we’re just viewed as only good for sex by some people. people want to ignore what happened in residential schools because they can’t admit they aren’t the heroes for what they did.

shit like this is what i expect people who say “it’s ok to kill the Nabateans actually because they aren’t (seen as) human” will say about me and my family. we’re slowly declining. our culture is getting lost. we want to be seen as human by everyone else. but we aren’t.

this is why i feel so unsafe around edeIstans.

#getting really tired of the Rhea hate #antisemitism #racism

[ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing]

Wake Me When the Nightmare's Over (#27 Whumptober 2022)

Prompt: Muffled Screams | Stumbling | Magical Exhaustion

Fandom: Star Wars- All Media Types, Star Wars - The Clone Wars (2008)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker & Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: General

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Nightmares had become a staple in Obi-Wan’s life, but that didn’t mean that some days weren’t worse than others. It was nights like these that Obi-Wan wished that he couldn’t breathe, just like his former padawan had lost the ability on Mustafar so very long ago.

--- Fic Under the Cut ---

“How many times have I asked you to be careful?” Obi-Wan asked with a shake of his head, hands coming to carefully still his padawan’s knee.

He was sure exactly what the boy had done, but without fail every time Obi-Wan left him to his own devices for longer than a standard hour the boy would come back with some sort of cut or scrape, eyes filled with tears even as he stood as straight as possible, trying to convince Obi-Wan that it didn’t need to be looked at or bandaged.

“Master I was being careful!” a nine-year-old Anakin told him emphatically, “I was watching where I was going and I wasn’t running and I was even using the force to look for obstacles like you taught me!”

Obi-Wan raised a brow at him as he dabbed gently at the cut with bacta, “And why would you be looking for obstacles, my dear padawan? Most people can see them if they are looking in front of them.”

Anakin blushed a little, “Well….we were playing hide-and-seek! I was…seeking…with the other kids.”

“You were cheating,” Obi-Wan said with a fond roll of his eyes, “It’s cheating when you aren’t playing with other padawans who know how to shield, Ani. We’ve talked about this.”

“It wasn’t cheating!” Anakin insisted, “Because I was blindfolded!”

Obi-Wan groaned, “Ani, for the love of the force. You can’t run around blindfolded looking for the other children. I thought you said you were looking where you were going!”

“I was,” Anakin argued, “With the force! Duh!”

“Anakin you are not allowed to play hide-and-seek blindfolded,” Obi-Wan said sternly, looking at the young boy, “You shouldn’t even be interrupting the guided tours through the temple but I know that’s a losing battle. Please, I need you to be careful. No more blindfolds!”

“Aww, you’re no fun!” Anakin complained, “I hate you.”

“I hate you!”

The scene around Obi-Wan changed.

The coolness of his and Anakin’s shared quarters faded, replaced by heat so thick that Obi-Wan struggled to breathe through it, the sweat already pouring down his face even though he sure it hadn’t been any time at all. There was smoke filling his lungs, making everything that much harder as his eyes stung and his lungs burned and his heart was beating so hard in his chest, the terror down his spine and the oil-slick feeling of the darkness in the force paralyzing him to one spot as he looked down at the thing that was looking up at him, with golden eyes and-.

There was a jolt in his chest as he realized he was looking at his former padawan, the dread and anguish pushing against his heart to replace the soft worry that he’d been feeling before.

“Anakin?” he asked.

“I hate you!”

Obi-Wan jolted upright, muffled screams bouncing around his head as he panted, hands feeling cold and clammy and heart racing so fast that he thought that he was having a heart attack for a moment.

The wave of agony that shot through his chest as he realized that he was in a hut, on Tatooine was unmistakeable and for a moment, he wished that he couldn’t breathe so that he wouldn’t have to feel what it felt like to live in a world without Anakin.

He looked down to the dark spots on his blanket, fingering out the fabric as he felt the wet patches and then—when another drop fell—he reached out to feel the tears running down his face, chest achingly hollow.

“I loved you,” Obi-Wan whispered to no one.

#whumptober2022 #no.27 #muffled screams #star wars #fic #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obikin #obikin fic #obikin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #musicsoul1982 whumps

[windupsanson]

Long text about my characters that make little sense I’m just coping with anxiety.

I noticed that my wol doesn’t have a single parental bone in their body but they are aunt material with the older kids and even the younger adults, including Ryne, Ali, Alphi and my ocs. Wol is not so good with small children but they are kind to them of course, they aren’t good with unpredictable people, or moogles, or sylphs, or pixies. She does like some individuals but better keep low on the tricks.

Foulques sister is wol best friend and trust them completely with their kids.

Fleurette (Foulques sister) also considers Sanson her kid because she knew him as a little kid and got attached to him and sang to him and taught him about how to be a lancer and other things when he didn’t had much of a social life for being too serious and adult like for a kid. She trusted wol to date him along with Guydelot which says a lot considering how protective she is although she knows he can do what he wants. She does try to push the thought away that wol also dates her brother and friend Estinien.

She is definitely the maternal one along with her husband who just saw her coming after years of exile with strange children and said so we have kids now? He thought they were kids of some Ishgardian father but was already loving them anyway when he learned she found them. He didn’t care, he would probably be their father even if they hadn’t gotten married. He is just that paternal and has a big heart and really loves his family. He was also kicked out of his own family since they are a proud wildwood forestborn family and he loves a duskwight and fought when they insulted her race. He never mentioned the topic to anyone.

Foulques however had some problems with a bigger family and getting along with his sister after years apart because of shame and trust issues, she was a role model and always told him to do the right thing and that because of their race they had to act better and he thought she would judge him for his crimes, she didn’t, she knows he regrets and she was just happy he was safe, she just wants the distance between them gone and for him to feel home but he takes awhile to heal.

Ironically while Fleurette sees Sanson as one of the kids he also ends up being best friends and brother to her son Monoa, they were captives together for a time and helped each other escape, Sanson ends up being an older brother figure to him. At first Guydelot is a little awkward with the new friend since Monoa was aggressive towards him since right before Sanson was captured Guydelot fought him unfairly to his great regret, while Sanson forgave him and they were together Monoa was protective. Guydelot ends up proving he is a good person with nothing but good intentions towards Sanson and loves him so he is allowed to approach Sanson on Monoa terms who decided he was in charge of Sanson safety. Sanson tried to argue but was strangely happy about that protectiveness and how much Guydelot had to prove that yes he deserves Sanson please let me date my boyfriend.

Monoa does have a sister too who was jealous of the attention Sanson got as a new brother but finally got to know him and saw how he tried to get both siblings to spend time together and spied how lonely Sanson was forcing himself to be because he was having trouble coping with what happened to him and pushing people away and even putting himself in danger until she had enough of it and told Sanson to stop acting like a fool and avoid everyone who obviously wanted him close and while she has no tact and is terrible at dealing with emotions she got a reaction of him and accepted that other people could be close to her estranged brother and she could still get closer to him as well. They are also adopted siblings, her parents were supposed to take care of him for a time but sold him out and she went after him and never went back. She did get help by a Sharlayan Duskwight Elezen who just became family as well. He abandoned his duties out of loyalty to her because she was alone in the world getting in dangerous situations and he couldn’t accept it, he also tries to redeem himself for originally following his duty which made him use Monoa sister Noir for information and spy on Garleans for information on the Echo and Padjal gifts he possessed, he did not tell her the truth about himself out of duty and was going to get information and disappear until he saw doing so would cost her life, he was undecided for a few seconds but betrayed his duty and saved her and swore to help her for lying to her even if he was supposed to as a spy. She was completely betrayed but slowly especially after he almost died for her she forgave him. She later learns that he became exiled from Sharlayan for his acts and his family disapprove of him until up EW when politics change but even so he never goes back.

That’s just the start of the found family tale.

It’s a strange way to make a family but it worked.

#behold my ocs #behold my stuff #to be deleted later #to archive on sideblog and delete

[majoringinsarcasm]

I read IG comments again this is a sad ramble don’t read this. Sincerely if you read this and are rude I’m blocking you lol

I think ironically the most frustrating and sad thing about all those “why other countries hate Americans” posts is that

1) It points out very legitimate awful things that current day citizens Cannot Control or Change

2) The sweeping generalizations that, while anyone can have, feel very white American leaning

Don’t be me don’t read Instagram comments but I just read a bunch and so much of it was either your government sucks, which yes it does thanks bestie. Or just education stuff and how we don’t know geography or other cultures or history. Or a very unique “you call yourselves Americans despite other counties being in America you’re so entitled by claiming that title for yourself”

And maybe it’s bc I’m black. Maybe it’s bc my brain doesn’t like rules that I can’t follow the logical road to. But. That’s not our fault.

And what I mean by that is that we only know what we are taught. That’s not a full excuse to NOT CARE about other countries but as children and into adulthood schools only tell us So Much. And if you went to a lower income school you didn’t even learn as much as higher income schools. We’re in school for 12-14 years before age 18 and then it’s either Go To College to get a job or Get a Job right away. And things like learning other languages or culture studies are only useful For A Job if you’re going into that field.

Now. I would’ve loved if my school taught other languages. We had Spanish but it was the “memorize this thing” type and not actually teaching you how the language is formed. And it’s really hard to learn a New Language as an adult. (Which is why the insistence that people speak English when they move or immigrate here is so stupid). BUT I wasn’t. We didn’t have the money for that. And as you can see by current events what history WAS taught is trying to be BANNED as of now.

This sounds so very “be sad for Americans” or US citizens I guess if ppl are gonna be picky about what we were told to call ourselves without any alternative which again We Did Not Choose. But also the US isn’t just white people. And there are many people white included who HATE how things are run. How land is stolen and people silenced and killed. How our money is used without our permission to fund wars and not given to those who need it. Many of us who might be proud of individual roots aren’t proud of the country itself. But uhhhh good luck getting Money to Go anywhere else.

It’s like being tied to a chair with tape over our mouths watching as other counties talk about how we’re terrible and live under a corrupt government and we kill people and we kill ourselves. And thrashing and screaming because WE FUCKING LIVE HERE. THE AWFUL SHIT YOURE COMPLAINING ABOUT IS OUR DAILY LIVES. WE ARE THE ONES LIVING LIKE THIS WE ARE THE ONES WHO ARE TOLD ITS FINE TO KILL PPL AS LONG AS ITS THR RIGHT PEOPLE. AND THOSE WHO SPEAK OUT ARE ARRESTED OR KILLED

A man was killed in broad daylight on camera and when people marched for him and protested against police brutality they were met with More brutality! A woman was killed in her bed. A boy was killed going to work. In front of their kids. While fleeing a crime scene. Indigenous people ARE NOT GONE they are still fighting to keep their children in Native families. Like.

I get it. I fucking get it. I truly do. But YOU are seeing an entire patchwork of people under one umbrella. We are living day to day watching people we love and people we don’t know who deserve to just fucking live be utterly crushed. We are kept ignorant on purpose. The rise of AI makes “a simple google search” an entity new obstacle. We don’t control where our races go. Our public transit is not well funded our schools are not well funded. We don’t. Have. Places to be that aren’t Home or Work anymore.

Again this is not to take away from the Active Genocides going on. Or the way the US Government is complicit in many many crimes against humanity.

I’m just saying that many many of us aren’t running around shirtless praising the place. I don’t want to. Live. Thinking I’ll be stuck under awful leadership until I fucking kill myself man. You’re looking at the shitshow from across an ocean. We live here. I can’t explain the disconnect of seeing actual suppression of the truth and education and how fucked up it is and how helpless it is knowing that firing back isn’t as easy as yall make it sound. Not to say we just sit around and do nothing. But some Europeans talk about resistance and shit and it’s like they Kill Us In Public And Get Away With It Over Here.

Idk man. They’re not wrong about some points but it’s sad LIVING here and knowing information about other places is deliberately not taught or readily available. They called it brainwashing but clearly they don’t think about what that actually entails. Never learning about the color red doesn’t mean blue is the best. You’re just never given a chance to see other colors.

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Untouchables (1987)

Only a few minutes into The Untouchables I knew I was watching something special. Even if you know how it went down between Eliot Ness and Al Capone, you’re not ready for the tension this film brings. It’s got iconic lines, great performances, terrific costumes, a score that builds the mood like only Ennio Morricone could and the kind of crowd-pleasing moments that will have you returning to it over and over.

In 1930, notorious crime kingpin Al Capone (Robert De Niro) is the source of illegal liquor in Chicago. Everyone knows it, but his influence runs too deep for anyone to take him down. When FBI agent Eliot Ness (Kevin Costner) realizes his straight-arrow tactics won’t do, he forms “The Untouchables” and goes where the police are unable - or unwilling - to.

The opening credits get you excited right away: screenplay by David Mamet, directed by Brian De Palma, music by Ennio Morricone, and an all-star cast. Let's go, baby! Is the story 100% accurate to what happened in real life? It doesn’t matter and you don’t care. What’s important is the way the movie makes you feel. Al Capone isn’t in the movie much but immediately, you hate him. He’s like a spoiled kid with a big stick. Capone thinks he’s so classy and smart but he’s not above the law. No one is. You can’t wait to see him get taught a lesson and pay for all the crimes he’s committed. By contrast, a surprising amount of time is spent making Eliot Ness human. Scenes of him at home with his children, tender moments with his wife (Patricia Clarkson) as she leaves notes in his lunch kit, etc. Their roles as the hero and villain are clearly outlined… so why is taking Capone down so hard? He wants to believe in doing things the right way but the game is rigged. As the audience, we may not object to the operations Ness leads but we see the toll working outside the law has on him. You already wanted to see Capone taken down so that smirk would get wiped off his face. What keeps you watching are all the other reasons: so Ness can return to a normal life, to know for certain that the members of the Untouchables are safe and for Ness to stop before he turns into a villain himself.

While the other members of the Untouchables aren’t given nearly as much attention as their leader, the performers make great use of the script they’re given. Sean Connery, in particular, is a standout. There are a lot of great lines in the movie and he’s got some of the most memorable ones. Connery is such a recognizable actor, with such an identifiable voice. While watching the movie, you forget it’s him. You don’t even pay attention to the accent, you’re so absorbed by what’s going on. You're too busy trying to get a grip on your nerves. When Brian De Palma makes you sweat, you’re sweating buckets, you’re tearing out your hair and chewing your nails to the bone. There’s a shootout between Ness and Frank Nitti (Billy Drago), Capone’s chief assassin. It got so extreme that I didn’t even care who shot, whether they hit, or how long the shootout would last. All I wanted was for someone to do something so I could start breathing again.

There are many scenes where things go from bad to worse. They'll all have you thinking “There’s got to be a way out somehow”. Your mind races, trying to figure out what Ness and his cohorts can do. You’re so invested you want to pause the movie and come up with a plan you could propose to them but you desperately want to see what comes next so you just let it play out.

So often, The Untouchables gives you hope and then takes it away. It crushes you to see all the hard work and sacrifices get effortlessly flicked away by Capone and his cronies. Rather than give up, you dig in your heels and keep on, more determined than ever to see this through. You forget about the rest of the world. All that matters is this movie. You even forget that you know how it’s going to end. When the credits finish rolling, you breathe a sigh of relief. Those 119 minutes flew by like they were nothing. (September 2, 2021)

#The Untouchables #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Brian De Palma #David Mamet #Kevin Costner #Charles Martin Smith #Andy Garcia #Robert De Niro #Sean Connery #1987 movies #1987 films

[pridepages]

Love on the Mind: The Rest of Us Just Live Here

I just finished The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Passion is often describes as a physical experience: heart racing, butterflies fluttering, flushing...a phenomenon based in the body. In fact, we are subtly taught time after time through traditional stories to believe that any other kind of way to experience love must be inherently less powerful or meaningful. But in The Rest of Us Just Live Here, Patrick Ness challenges our ideas of what passion--and heroism--should look like.

The world of Rest of Us is a playful jab at the tropes of YA fantasy. Narrator Mikey Mitchell introduces us to the idea that he lives in a world where the supernatural exists. It is expected that every few years there will be some kind of crisis: soul-eating ghosts, romantic vampires, etc. And every time the world is imperiled, it will be up to a select group of kids--dubbed the “indie kids”--to be the group from which that cycle’s Chosen Ones will emerge to save the day. As it happens, it’s about to happen again. A group of entities called The Immortals are trying to invade our world and indie kid Satchel and her friends must stop them! Murder, romance, mystery, and adventure ensue.

But this isn’t their story.

This is the story of the other kids. The ones who aren’t expected to do anything but live on the margins. Mikey, his sisters Mel and Meredith, along with their friends Henna and Jared have their own dramas. Mikey and Mel suffer from intense bouts of mental illness (OCD and an ED respectively). Meredith is a precocious child who is overlooked by their workaholic mom and alcoholic dad. Henna, Jared, Mikey, and Mel face their impending graduation and all the changes life is bringing them.

We meet the group in the middle of a debate: Do we have a choice in our attractions?

“You always have a choice,” insists Mel, “I don’t care if you think it’s love...you can still choose to act right.” Meanwhile, Henna maintains “Your heart fills up. Actually, no...it’s in your stomach. You feel and everything just goes.” Which Jared agrees with: “Your dick or whatever, that’s just wanting. Animal stuff. This is more...You feel it right here, and it’s like, for that moment, everything you believed is wrong. Or doesn’t matter.”

So who is right? It’s too reductive to say that one way of experiencing love is realer or truer than another. But Patrick Ness makes an excellent case for the idea that love that is born of our mind is just as significant as the kind of love that’s born in our ‘stomach.’

Mikey’s relationships with Henna and Jared are both creations of his mind. For instance, Mikey reflects on his relationship with Jared:

“It’s occurred to me more than once to ask myself if I was gay, too, deep down. My best friend is, after all, and we’ve fooled around. I wasn’t exactly lying back with my eyes closed either. It was fun. I feel so safe around Jared, it seems only natural that we’d help each other let off some steam once in a while...he was afraid I thought that way about him and didn’t want me to get hurt. Which I didn’t and won’t. So, okay, it’s all a little complicated but I’d have been crazy not to at least ask myself the question.”

For some people, the fact that Mikey is capable of any kind of attraction to Jared makes him queer. I’d welcome someone like Mikey under our rainbow umbrella. But Mikey never makes it clear whether he identifies as queer. In contrast, he explains he experiences more consistent attraction to women, and particularly his crush on Henna:

“But I dream about girls. In that way. And when I, you know, have the occasional...intimate conversation with myself, girls again. It’s what I look at online, and it’s who I’ve dated in the past...Henna. I’ve imagined us for years...and when I do, she and I are always in it together, like we’re on the same team and it’s us against everybody else and there’s nowhere else either of us would rather be. I imagine her as my friend. And if I don’t understand what she means about the desire in her stomach, well, so what? People are different. I love her. I do. Don’t I?”

For the Hennas and the Jareds of the world, attraction is a simple thing that they can feel in their gut. For people like Mikey that have intense inner lives and are driven by their heads, attraction can be more complicated.

The thing about attraction--and the labels we use to explain them--is that they belong to the holder. We have long ago, and rightly, moved away from the idea that queerness is a mental illness. Our labels aren’t diagnoses. They are descriptors that help us explain our identities to the world.

And some kinds of love transcend even our labels. For Mikey and Jared, theirs is an undeniable love that exists in a sublime place beyond simple romantic or sexual attraction. “He’s gay, but it’s different,” Mikey explains, “It’s like he’s my family, except better, because I’ve chosen him.” Chosen family is a form of love that is critical for queer people. And the best part is, like every other relationship queer people have, there are no roadmaps or models. That can be scary but also freeing, because we get to make the rules:

“I know most people would think it weird that two guy friends touch as much as we do, but when you choose your family, you get to choose how it is between you, too. This is how we work. I hope you get to choose your family and I hope it means as much to you as mine does to me.”

And it’s not just one-sided. Jared knows that Mikey suffers from mental illness, from anxiety that whispers cruel things and makes Mikey believe he is unworthy and unloveable. So Jared doesn’t shy away from giving Mikey the affirmation he desperately needs:

“I know how much you worry about shit. And what’s also important is that I know a big part of that worry is that, no matter what group of friends you’re in, no matter how long you’ve known them, you always assume you’re the least-wanted person there. The one everyone could do without. Even when it’s just you and me. I know how you worry that you need me as a friend more than I need you...I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Love isn’t always the rush of joy and the warmth of security. Sometimes love is being each other’s safe space. Sometimes it’s giving each other grace to feel a little weak. Sometimes it’s giving of ourselves and our vulnerable bits so that other people feel safe to share theirs. “We share our craziness, our neuroses, our little bit of screwed-up-ness that comes from our family. We share it. And it feels like love.”

Most importantly of all: love doesn’t just have to strike you in your heart, or your stomach, or any other physical feeling in order to be real. “Here’s the thing...I can’t tell you what’s real for you. But in return, you can’t say what’s real for me either. I get to choose. Not you.” 

Love is faith. Love is hope. Love is trust. Love is a choice. Which means we’ve all got love on our minds.

#patrick ness #the rest of us just live here #lgbt reads #queer lit #lgbtqia

[justiceheartwatcher]

WARNING! The RED WAVE is NOT Guaranteed

While I was in Israel recently, I was asked by Israeli friends how the elections would turn out in America this fall. My response was that Republicans will win in a blowout unless they fail to come up a cohesive message other than, “Hey we aren’t THOSE guys who doubled your gas prices, jacked up groceries by 20%, and who opened the borders to illegals but busted the supply of baby formula.” The policies of the leftist Democrats have finally become untenable for common-sense loving Americans who unlike Joe Biden’s recent nominee to the Supreme Court DO know what a woman is. The Democrats have gone into a wild irrational rage about abortion, calling it “health care for women,” even though at least one person dies every time there is an abortion. They claim that 4 and 5 year old children ought to be taught about gender fluidity before they learn their numbers, colors, and letters of the alphabet. Most Americans know that’s not just bad policy, it’s insanity. And working-class Americans have grown tired of the elitists from Hollywood and Washington lecturing about climate change and carbon footprints when the same hypocritical snobs fly around the globe in fuel-sucking, carbon emitting private jets and upon landing, ride in long black limousines while owning 4 or 5 homes.

The demands to tax more don’t go over well with anyone who owns a business or is trying to get kids to school each day and feed them each evening, but Republicans need to focus on what they will stand FOR if given the majorities in the House and Senate. Keep in mind, that even if the GOP takes both houses, they won’t be able to pass legislation because Joe Biden isn’t likely to sign anything that makes energy cheaper, houses more affordable, or our borders more secure. Biden’s party still wants to pursue truly crazy policies like Critical Race Theory that indoctrinates schoolchildren to believe that all white children are evil oppressors and that our nation is systemically racist and bad, despite it being the ONE place on earth where people of every color risk their very lives to get to because they believe America is still a great country where freedom and opportunity awaits.

Republicans should tell America that if elected, they will pursue the following things and force Joe Biden to either sign the legislation or explain to struggling American why not:

1. We will finish the border wall, enforce immigration laws, and stop the flow of deadly drugs and human trafficking of small children to become sex slaves for the drug cartels.

2. We will support our military by giving them leaders who believe that a military being deadly is more important than being diverse. That means people are promoted because they are the best, not because they are the right color, gender, or sexual identity.

3. We will value all life from conception because we don’t think any human life is disposable or expendable.

4. We will work toward a completely different tax system like the Fair Tax in which we pay taxes on what we consume and not what we produce. We would get rid of the death tax and capital gains taxes because we shouldn’t punish productivity.

5. We will follow the Constitution and allow the states to govern themselves without the federal government mandating the minutia.

6. We will not tolerate violent crime and letting killers and thugs back on the streets to repeat their attacks on the law-abiding public. We all should have an expectation to walk in our neighborhood, ride a subway or bus, or get from their car to the front door of a grocery store without being assaulted.

7. We will renew energy independence by re-starting the Keystone XL pipeline, drilling on federal lands, and extracting the oil and natural gas under our own feet and re-starting a long-term nuclear energy capacity.

The country is in a mess and while Biden and the Democrats blame Putin, Trump, or anyone but themselves, we all know they OWN the results of their policies.

But we the people own the elections with our votes. And the country doesn’t belong to the politicians but the people. Always has; always will!

Mike Huckabee

[writingwithcolor]

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

#PSAs #asker concerns #diversity #motivations in writing #writing with diversity #blog housekeeping #internet hygeine #asks #WWC

[zukkaoru]

thinking about how all the long-time skaters in sk8 definitely have scars - it's just part of the game. skating is dangerous and skating at ‘s’ is even more risky. thinking about how they all probably have little scars on their arms and legs that are only visible up close.

thinking about reki having scars on his head from his races against adam. thinking about those scars being langa’s favorite place to kiss him. thinking about reki looking at those scars when they’re fresh and letting them represent failure. thinking about those scars coming to be a reminder that he skates because it’s fun, he skates for his friends, he skates for langa. he skates and he’s a moron for it and he has the scars to prove it, but they actually look pretty cool now that he thinks about it. and when langa catches reki staring at the scars his hairline doesn’t quite cover, he just brushes reki’s hair back and kisses them, soft and gentle, and wraps his arms around reki. he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t have to. reki hears the i’m here for you and i love you loud and clear.

thinking about langa realizing that some of the cuts he got while first learning with reki aren’t fading away, and reki telling him “that’s a rite of skating passage! your first scars!” they’re barely visible, and really, they could still fade with a bit more time, but langa smiles down at them anyway, and every new scar he gets after that doesn’t feel like a failure - it just reminds him of reki. when he walks away from his final race against adam with a nasty scar, reki seems worried, but langa just tells him “it’s a rite of skating passage, isn’t it?” and reki beams at him.

thinking about shadow having to learn to use makeup to cover his scars so no one asks about them, and because scarred arms aren’t a great look for a flower shop employee. thinking about him spending hours alone, painstakingly trying to match his skin tone. thinking about him coming to love makeup the more he uses it, and that leading him to the clown makeup look he always wears to ‘s’. thinking about him waking up early before work in the mornings to cover the scars on his arms and face, and maybe it started because he wanted to hide them to save his reputation as a nice flower shop attendant. but now he finds makeup calming, he likes his hands having something to do and he likes the feeling of accomplishment when he’a finished and he steps back to admire his work in the mirror.

thinking about miya scraping up their knees and elbows all the time and how eventually, there’s no one there to help patch them up when they fall. thinking about them doing the bare minimum to care for those injuries because no one ever taught them how, and them always picking at the scabs until the scrapes turn to scars. thinking about them not even caring about the scars crisscrossing their arms and legs. thinking about how instead of learning to properly care for their injuries, they just learn to stop falling. thinking about how, the first time they fall when reki and langa are there, the older boys don’t laugh. they just offer to help miya clean and bandage the injury, and when it’s clear miya doesn’t really know what all should be done for it, reki realizes just why the younger kid has so many scars. it’s not that he’s always falling - it’s that no one taught him the safest way to get back up.

thinking about joe and cherry having more scars than anyone else at ‘s’, which makes sense - they’ve been skating there longest.

thinking about joe constantly doubting his ‘s’ persona being shirtless, wondering which race will give him that final scar that turns him from sexy scarred to scarred enough that everyone averts his eyes. sometimes, he looks in the mirror, and he thinks he’s there already. he looks in the mirror and he sees the scars from the past decade crisscrossing his back and chest, scratched up and down his arms, digging into his face. he used to wear shorts to skate too - show off as much as his body as possible because he thrived on the attention and claim less clothes made him more aerodynamic. but all it took was one wrong move, one trip to the hospital with cherry breaking all the speed limits, one gruesome looking scar running down his left leg, for him to switch to pants instead. one wrong move is all it takes to end a skater’s career, but depending on the marks left behind, it could end more than that. no one wants to look at someone whose skin has been torn up beyond proper healing.

thinking about cherry, who prides himself on the fact that while he does have a myriad of scars from all his skating over the years, none of them are overly obvious. they’re all easily hidden or easy to cover, and he always does so. everyone at ‘s’ knows, in theory, that cherry has just as many scars as joe. but no one’s ever really gotten close enough to confirm that, and cherry plans to keep it that way.

thinking about cherry’s race against adam. thinking about how his mask offered some protection, but not enough. thinking about cherry ending up with a scar on his face that’s hard to cover and even harder to look at. thinking about cherry waking up at joe’s after sneaking out of the hospital just to see him, and joe finds him staring in the mirror. he doesn’t have to ask to know cherry is trying to stare through the bandages on his face to see how bad the scar will be. thinking about, once the injury has healed enough, cherry asking joe to take the bandages off for him so he doesn’t have to see right away. thinking about cherry preparing to see disgust in joe’s eyes, but it never comes. thinking about cherry asking how bad it is, his voice hardly audible, and joe telling him he’s still as beautiful as ever.

thinking about cherry trying to cover up the scar while he’s kaoru because he has a reputation to keep, but not succeeding in making it look like a natural cover. thinking about the kids and shadow hearing through the grapevine that kaoru is taking a lot longer to recover than cherry did, and going to see him unannounced. thinking about cherry telling them not to come in because he’s not in his cherry mask that’s been altered to cover the scar and he still hasn’t figured how to cover it up right, but of course he isn’t listened to. and cherry prepares for the disgust and empty pity at the scar, but they’re all just briefly shocked instead. and then miya says “oh. that’s why you changed your mask.”

thinking about shadow offering to try to help cover it, though it’s worse than any of the scars he’s covered on himself before. thinking about reki pestering him about whether or not he’s been caring for it properly. thinking about miya saying they think it looks pretty cool - that it makes them look like a mysterious vigilante. thinking about langa talking about his dad getting a scar from snowboarding once - a real bad one on the back of his hand after his glove flew off - and how his dad always said that scars just mean you were hurt and you survived. scars are like memories, like reminders that you got hurt and you were probably scared, but you were strong enough to make it through and you’re going to be stronger on the other side because of it.

thinking about joe showing up, expecting cherry to be alone and sulking, and instead finding him laughing with his face half covered in makeup from shadow and half covered in a bandage from reki, while miya and langa tell a story about the time langa helped them sneak out while they were grounded. thinking about cherry looking up when he hears the door shut and meeting joe's eyes, and joe is just smiling because he's been so worried and cherry hasn't really been himself ever since the race against adam, but in this moment, joe can see that all of them are going to be okay. and no matter what happens, they've all got this weird little skating family they formed to fall back on.

just. thinking about the sk8ers with scars.

#here is my humble application into the sk8 fandom. i hope you all enjoy #it wasn't supposed to get this long but um. i couldn't shut up #also nonbinary miya bc i can't write them any other way #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #renga #matchablossom #headcanons #sk8 headcanons #sk8 cherry #kojiro nanjo #sk8 langa #sk8 reki #sk8 shadow #sk8 miya #hello grace here #grace's writing tag

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

-

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x male reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #bisexual steve harrington #bi steve harrington