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lighthouseas · 11 months

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written in my phone notes app not betaed not edited etc etc lol based on this post

there is *1* dirty joke in here but i think we can put on our big kid shoes and handle it yeah? we can agree teenagers are horny? if not then scroll past :)) kisses xx

It's a Saturday in January.

Mike likes Saturdays, mainly because Holly has dance practice on Saturdays, and his dad has work, and Nancy has homework - so, more or less, he has the house to himself.

Logistically speaking, he could invite Lucas or Dustin or maybe even Max over so he could have some company, but he doesn't really feel like it. He never really feels like it, nowadays, which he knows is cause for concern - but it just doesn't feel right anymore, hanging out with the Party with two missing.

So. Saturdays are for Mike and Mike only.

He has homework to do. Homework which he really should be doing considering he's bordering on getting a C in his algebra class, which he knows is unlike him. Instead, though, he's slumped across the La-Z-Boy (which is now vacant due to his father being at work), spooning Cheerios into his face and only half paying attention to whatever was showing on the television. He's kind of tired, even though he woke up fairly late. His eyes droop lazily. He thinks that, maybe, he'll just drift off - no one's here to stop him - when a knock sounds at the door.

Mike shoots up, nearly spilling milk onto the carpet as he does so. This is odd: it's rare someone comes to the Wheeler house unannounced, which is mostly due to his mother's adamant demands to keep the house clean when guests are over.

It could be Max; she has a tendency to walk into his house, grab food from his fridge, and then ask if he wants to play video games without missing a beat (hence why his mother has grown to have such a distaste for her). Or maybe it's Lucas, who lives next door and comes over sometimes for homework answers. It couldn't be Dustin, though, since he lives across town and has never seen 11 AM on a Saturday (he like sleeping in).

Maybe it's the mailman. Which is equally weird, considering he could've just left whatever package he had on the doorstep. Mike ambles over to the door, Cheerios still in hand and flannel pajama pants hanging off of his hip. He's wearing a faded Queen t-shirt that has definitely seen better days, but he figures it doesn't really matter. The person - whoever it is - probably won't be here for long and won't care if Mike looks utterly disheveled.

He swings the door open, and is immediately proven wrong.

It is not Max. Or Lucas. Or Dustin. Or, hell, even the mailman.

Mike has never seen this boy in his life, and, in that moment, he's kind of glad he hasn't.

He's a jock, for sure. Probably on the football team. His biceps are fairly defined through the long sleeved white shirt he's wearing. Actually, scratch that, his entire fucking body is basically protruding through his shirt, almost like he isn't even wearing one. He definitely has - what - Mike's eyes dart down to his stomach - a six pack. Definitely. Mike's heart does a weird palpitation, and he suddenly realizes it's getting hard for him to breathe.

Oh, God.

He looks like shit.

"Hello?" The boy waves a hand in front of Mike's face. "Uh - is Nancy here?"

Mike's eyes drift upwards - because, somehow, this boy is taller than him even though Mike knows he's nearing on 6 feet - and he's met by obnoxiously shiny brown eyes and sandy brown hair that's swept to the side, like - like this boy got all dressed up to come over here, and that triggers many fantasies in Mike's head that he'd prefer not to dwell upon-

"Hey. Kid." The boy snaps his fingers. He sounds annoyed, now. Mike should probably pay attention.

"I-" Mike croaks, because his tounge suddenly feels like sandpaper, "sorry, what?"

"Nancy. Is she your sister?"

Oh.

Oh. Of fucking course.

Mike had conveniently forgotten that Nancy had taken on a tutoring gig at her school. This was mostly due to the fact that, whenever Nancy had her tutees come over to the house, it was during weekdays - never weekends.

So this boy - this - this boy, this unbelievably jacked boy had showed up, unannounced at the Wheeler doorstep, and was now looking for his sister.

Let him inside let him inside let him inside let him-

"I'm Mike," Mike blurts, and he kind of wants to smack himself. "Nancy is. Um. Nancy is my sister. Are you-" the boy moves to lean against the doorframe, his bicep flexing as he does so, and Mike is thanking the stars above that he's wearing the loosest pair of pajama pants that he owns. His question comes out in a squeak. "....looking for her?"

No SHIT he's looking for her. He ASKED for her, you absolute dumba-

The boy squints. "I'm Alex." the boy extends a hand. Mike shakes it - his hand is cold to the touch. Mike hopes it's impossible to detect the heart palpitations he is currently experiencing. "And...yes, I am looking for - oh, thank God, there you are."

Mike feels his sister's hand shove him out of the doorframe, but he's still staring. He probably looks bug eyed. His Cheerios have gone completely soggy, but he can't bring himself to care. He backwards walks back towards the La-Z-Boy. If Alex is a magnet, then Mike's eyes must be made of pure iron.

"...so sorry Alex, that's just my little brother-"

Mike hears snippets of their conversation from where he has resituated himself on the couch. Nancy is probably going to yell at him for being "impolite" later.

He tries to turn his focus back to the TV - really, he does - but - Alex's voice is so soft, like caramel, and okay, what the fuck, Mike. You were totally weird.

Mike shifts, curling his knees up to his chest. Alex and Nancy have gone to the dining room to study for - was it an English test? Maybe.

Whatever.

Mike is beginning to rethink his philosophy about Saturdays.

#was a little hesitant to put that joke in tjere and then i was like yk what fuck it #as a teenager i can attest to the fact that yes #we are horny. sorry #anyways enough of that. ladies and gents mike being gay hope u enjoyed <3333 love my little guy to bits #stranger things #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #byler tumblr #< target audience but has nothing to do with byler #st.txt #📝

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sonder-paradise · 9 months

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it's the way the dazai stans are about to smack the shit outta me

#[📰] rambles #my comeback to tumblr ladies n gents #dropping the most heinous part of my kitsune au on the day dazai perished <3

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sassyandclassy94 · 1 month

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Now that I changed my profile picture to Don I don’t recognize my own blog🥴 it’s been SwanFire for SIX years….

#it’s okay I’m not complaining and I’ll get used to it but MAN…#I don’t do well with change it would appear🫣#personal #profile woes #blog woes #Abby rambles #and oh my gosh I’ve been on this heck site for SIX YEARS?!?!#I’ve actually been on tumblr for 9 years but kinda abandoned it until 2018 when SWANFIRE brought me back to it #I googled sednfjre fanfictions and it led me to the PhoenixFeatherQuill and I’ve been a full fledged tumblr girl ever since #I love my stupid blog and all the friends ive made (new and old) and my tiny 201 follower count #it’s the little things in life ladies & gents. it’s the little things

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wilmvandrr · 4 months

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happy new year!!!!

it’s 2024 y’all l and i am not convinced

#new year #happy new year #art #artists on tumblr #holiday art #my fav holiday ladies and gents #queer artist #queer

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black-cat-babe · 1 year

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"I have seen things that would break someone's mind. I know how it ends and you don't scare me."

#ladies and gents we are fighting against the ascendancy one chiss at a time #part two coming soonish #maybe #star wars #artists on tumblr #art #artwork #ocs #star wars oc #chiss #chiss oc #tales of the new republic

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thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles · 1 year

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I DID MY HISTORY ORAL EXAM. she gave me an 8. but that's the top mark she gives so I'm happy.

thing is, she asked me the EXACT day (not year, DAY) that Julius Caesar was killed, a thing she did not explain. I knew the answer only thanks to Tumblr 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙏!!

FLKGLSKGLKDFLDKFDFGJSFGKDFLKG YES

SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY HELL YES TUMBLR

#wasting time on tumblr saves lives #remember that ladies and gents

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alexapillustration · 1 year

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⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: Doctena Portrait .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

๑

Ahh yes here begins the flood of my Doctor x my OC Tilena art 😂😂 I went through an artistic period the past few months where I literally only painted these two and thats it! So this is the first of that series of paintings! Like the linktober pieces, I'm going to be spacing these out the next few posts because thankfully I have other art to post 😂 Otherwise my account would probably die fr 😂😂

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saintslewis · 8 months

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𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

— pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!oc

— trope: fake/arranged marriage

— summary: the Browns and the Hamiltons have been neighbours for many years, Nadia and their oldest son, Lewis, not being as close as the families had hoped they would be. Years later, everyone drifts apart into different neighbourhoods, some others becoming one of the best drivers to ever grace the sport of Formula One however being a man of his stature, fame came along with it and so did the scandals.

can a fake marriage to a complete stranger help keep his image alive? let’s find out!

✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ———————— let’s meet the lovely couple!

👩🏽‍🏫 —— nadia brown!

“the coolest teacher ever”

⸰ֺ⭑ - a south african native who moved to stevenage with her mom when she was 8 and gosh, her character development is one for the books. from being the shy one for all of her school years, university changed everything and made her the social butterfly that you will all grow to love soon. fav colour is pink. fav artist is beyoncé. she teaches history and knows jack shit about f1 except that the cool guy that her parents support used to be their neighbour. absolutely loves the moon and is a part time stylist. will fight for you even she met you a second ago.

🏎️ —— lewis hamilton!

“the goat.”

⸰ֺ⭑ - a literal superstar. the stevenage driver who i would describe as the coolest person ever and many would agree. an adrenaline junky with a heart of gold and filled with positivity (and sass but you didn’t hear it from me). thee fashionista and he knows he’s fine, he just does. father to roscoe. fav colour is purple. loves discussing space and its beauty. did i mention he’s the coolest guy ever? super supportive of everyone around him and he’s knighted. ladies and gents, mr mercedes!

✧༚ ˎˊ˗ info abt renaissance!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, a bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, a talk of ad21, south african slang, slight hints of smut (18+ MDNI), not much of a slow burn lol, lots and lots of brand names, slight themes of sugar daddy! lewis at some point lol (think of it as him spoiling her!)

˖ ࣪⭑ - inspo: this idea just spawned into my head as well as a few of my wip’s mushed together to make this masterpiece. i absolutely love beyonce so using RENAISSANCE for a project so special to me just make wanna do a couple cartwheels. i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did making this!

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: omg hi everybody 🤭. first oc on tumblr woohoo! not a lot of the song lyrics will relate to the plot of the chapter but more so the beat of the song or the vibe? hope that makes sense lol. i hope you guys like the humour i’m gonna add in here. there isn’t a schedule for this yet but hopefully i’ll be more organised in the future. let’s get this party started!

˖ ࣪⭑ - taglist: @thisismeracing @goldsainz @folkloresthings @flowerchild-96 @userlando (i read your blogs as if it’s my morning paper so i hope you like this 😭) @non-stop-imagines @royallyprincesslilly . let me know if you wanna be tagged in this or future fics!

˖ ࣪⭑ - dividers by @cafekitsune 🫶🏽

˖ ࣪⭑ - pictures from pinterest and twitter

˖ ࣪⭑ - nadia faceclaim: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 !

1. I’M THAT GIRL

- the first meeting.

2. COZY

- imagine having dinner with your family then they announce that you’re getting married? you better get cozy for this one!

3. ALIEN SUPERSTAR

- first “date”. gotta show the world the newest married couple!

4. CUFF IT

- didn’t Lewis say he was a professional dancer? well now he is 🕺🏽

5. ENERGY

- first day in the paddock, let’s gaurrr

6. BREAK MY SOUL

- ooohhhhh, the school’s calling for a meeting with Nadia 😟

7. CHURCH GIRL

- party time activated ‼️

8. PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA

- a rainy afternoon in the kitchen with the both of them dancing? literally screaming!

9. VIRGO’S GROOVE

- catching feelings there?

10. MOVE

- a visit to Nadia’s work place isn’t so bad, right? …right?

11. HEATED

- time to let the world know who exactly Nadia is and why to not mess with her or her husband. period.

12. THIQUE

- party time pt 2?

13. ALL UP IN YOUR MIND

- paris fashion week? uh yes!

14. AMERICA HAS A PROBLEM

- quick lil trip to new york or la or san francisco? who knows? 🤭

15. PURE/HONEY

- three words. eight letters.

16. SUMMER RENAISSANCE

- the Hamiltons hit the Hamptons!

status: ongoing

saintslewis 🫶🏽

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one x black reader #x black fem reader #formula one x reader #x black reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x oc #fake marriage au #☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen

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ratboyy-withtheexistentialdread · 3 months

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Nevermore Chapter 97

Spoilers ahead, lads. Skedaddle if you don't fast pass. EDIT I guess I’ve said too much in this post and need to pull it back a little. So imma gonna edit it so it doesn’t say too much about this chapter.

Alright, first my reaction cause HOLY HELL those last few panels really got me like

I really had to put my phone down and talk myself through them. Now, lets talk about what I gained from this chapter and the infamous Annabel Lee. I've noticed, at least in the comment section, the fandom really doesn't care for Annabel's character and its difficult to know where the animosity has come from. Tumblr obviously loves her but us heathens support women's rights and wrongs (Don't we gents?) Many call her a sociopath or what’s happens in the last few panels. Annabel is indeed ruthless, calculating and stone cold but she obviously cares. She cares for Lenore above everything. It can be easy to see this as obsession as we really haven't seen her care about much else or even herself. But one comment on the Webtoon brought up a very valid point which I've also picked up on.

Annabel and Lenore in life were very isolated and broken people when they met one another. Annabel, broken and then rebuilt into a prim and proper lady. Lenore, broken physically and mentally and closed off from the world.

Meeting each other saved them. They were no longer alone. There was an understanding between them at least that we know of.

Their differences though is what divides them in death.

Annabel played games, and masked her true self around her father and family connections. She now makes games of situations to retain what little control she had in life over a society she knew she could never break the rules of. A Game that was always rigged against her.

Lenore rebelled against society. She fled the estate to escape a suitor, was bound to the attic and ostracized by her family, she then faked her death and posed as man to court Annabel, the one person who cared for her.

Lenore wants to break the rules of the deans Death Game. Annabel wants to follow them.

It’s all they’ve ever known.

Before it was only them that mattered. Now Lenore has so much more to fight for and Annabel still only has Lenore. Both are right in their own way of playing the game but it pains the other to witness.

Annabel, I’m sure is aware that the Deans are not all they seem to be and won’t simply allow the students to turn the tables on them if they played how Lenore wants to.

And playing Annabel’s way means the callous death of many many people that do deserve another chance at life.

Now. I do have to agree with Annabel in the sense that Lenore forgets

This is a Death Game

Right now the “villainous” characters show their true face with pride and the “hero’s” are charming and true but as we get down to the wire, it’s going to get grey. There are no good or bad at the end of these games, only survival.

Could Annabel show some restraint and more tact when speaking strategy and making plans with Lenore? Absolutely. She’s little too giddy about sweeping some pieces off the board.

Lenore also needs to stop being so naive. She saw first hand what exactly the Deans are capable of in Dreamland, it put the fear of god in her.

In fairness to both characters though they and we are still missing big pieces of what happened between them and what their causes of death were. Which could hold big aspects of their characterization.

Maybe Lenore was originally very callous about others. In life, aside from Theo and Annabel, we’ve never really seen her interact with others. Perhaps this is the Lenore Annabel speaks of.

Anyway, I’m rambling. In conclusion, I’m a bit disappointed in Nevermores comment section. I enjoy Annabel’s character although some parts do worry me a bit but I have hope Red and Flynn have plans to curve this to a satisfying reason and conclusion.

That cliffhanger, boy howdy, what the fuck is Lenore gonna do…

#nevermore webtoon #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #white raven #duke #Pluto #nevermore webcomic #nevermore WEBTOON spoilers

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the-realest-spot-conlon · 1 month

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KOSA PAGE-all of our strike information

ALRIGHT SO YALL HAVE RESPONDED VERY POSITIVELY TO MY SUGGESTION OF US STARTING OUR OWN NEWSIES STRIKE AND @waiting-makes-me-antsy suggested we all get nicknames like the newsies so if yall want a nickname then private message me and I will write down your new nickname on this post and I'm also letting yall pick my nickname

What is the KOSA newsies strike?

All across tumblr and similar platforms, kids like us have found their people. People who share the same difficulties, people who have gone through the same things, or just friends. I have found some amazing people on tumblr, and KOSA would take all of that away. KOSA would take away the support many LGBTQ community members have found, the support many people with mental illnesses have found, and so much more beyond that. We are striking to show KOSA that we deserve a voice too! Freedom of Speech!

Me: Hops

@waiting-makes-me-antsy 's nickname is Antsy Whispers

@lincoln-rosario is Link

@eponine-thenadier is Olive (Vice President)

@hey-they-was-coronas is Reeses

@blinkinbrothershark is Twig

@sad-camper is Pollen

@racetracks-fvckin-chair is Quill

@theatrical-cowboy is Dice

@mothmans-spaghettios is Cryptid

@h0n3ycombb is Bunny!

@atticuswhat is Storm!

@ask-riff-lorton RIFF LORTON LADIES AND GENTS

@elmer-not-the-glue as Stars

Update: yall can go vote my my nickname I gave four options

Officers

@the-realest-spot-conlon (Me)- President

@eponine-thenadier Olive-Vice President

Secretary is open!

@waiting-makes-me-antsy Antsy Whispers- Assistant Vice President

@hey-they-was-coronas Reeses-Recreational Leader

Treasurer is open!

@bigmack2go solidarity-general Marshall

Our Tag

Tag any KOSA posts with "KOSA newsies strike," so it starts trending!

Petition

https://www.change.org/p/save-our-free-and-open-internet-stop-the-kids-online-safety-act?utm_content=cl_sharecopy_36858566_en-US%3Acv_9182&recruiter=1282470979&recruited_by_id=cdf22210-5591-11ed-b8c6-db7e30faf378&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf&share_bandit_exp=initial-36858566-en-US

(Link to my fanfictions I've written)

#newsies #spot conlon #92sies #racetrack higgins #sprace #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies incorrect quotes #KOSA newsies strike

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the-arcade-doctor · 5 months

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[[ STOP KOSA ]]

[[ RULES ]]

[[ GAMES AND GAME RULES ]] [[ PRIZE CORNER ]]

Some context: Text Doctors are a collection of Tumblr-based RP blogs featuring plague doctors made out of ASCII symbols with their own unique lore, they're mostly variants of the first one to don the title, Doctor Screech, a eldritch monster who hails from the abyss and landed in a world of violet occupied by walking fungal-infected-corpses and other such nasties.

HEY YOU! ARE YOU BORED? WHO AM I KIDDING, YOU FOUND THIS BLOG SO OF COURSE YOU ARE, LUCKILY FOR YOU, THIS IS AN BLOG FOR THE MOST… INTERESTING PLACE ON THE WEB!

WELCOME, LADIES, GENTS, AND EVERYONE ELSE TO

A PLACE OF INTRIGUE AND DANGER, MYSTERY AND WONDER! WHERE GAMES FEEL ALMOST ALIVE AND THE OWNER IS OVERJOYED TO MEET NEW FRIENDS!

ARCADE SCHEDULE

OPEN - 9:00 OR 11:00 AM

CLOSE 11:00 PM AFTER HOURS - 12:00 PM TO 6:00 AM MORE INFO BELOW, ENJOY YOUR STAY!

ENTRY #1: THE DENIZENS J:\\ THE MAKER \\\\

>> Jay. a 5’8, 17 (now 18) year old boy (when he feels like) with tan skin, wearing a black hoodie with a green “87” on it, grey sweatpants, and black shoes, under his hood lies a led visor displaying green animated eyes. He runs an arcade, overseen by a plague doctor suit made out of keyboard symbols, it has a parasitic relationship with his soul that enhances his ego. he runs an arcade as a front to gain more power to cut the strings of fate the gods have cast upon him.

[ jay speaks like this. ]

Jay, he found his way into a mysterious world occupied by a lone plague doctor, a beast who wore a mask of violet, the first ever "text doctor", at least, that's what he called himself, the plague doctor made out of... ASCII symbols? His name was Screech (@the-text-doctor), they got to know each other, the beast was wiser, older, had a family and most of all? POWER. Jay eventually stumbled onto a stray portal, and found a dimension with a lone arcade in it. It was empty, abandoned. It was quiet at first. Then the trials began with new technology Jay founded. His suit. A green, distorted form of the plague doctor made of symbols he met from days before. it was a beast forever crying emerald tears.. It took over the dimension. Slowly at first, but then rapidly, the floors turned black, the walls turned a dark shade of green, the arcade grew, seemingly floating. It was all falling into place. J:\\ THE SUIT \\\\ A green plague doctor made out of ASCII symbols, slashes make up his limbs and torso, and tear streaks fall down his mask. His left arm is corrupted heavily, with claws made of black triangles. He also has one corrupted wing made out of corrupted textures and glitch artifacts, on his chest lies a dark green mantle with two mirroring "J"s. His belt is made of square brackets and equal signs. This suit was made a host of the place it is now known for, but also to fight, and fight it does, it would be unwise to pick a fight with it in it's unnatural habitat.

thanks to @just-hyper-active for jotette's neck fluff [ J:\\ JOTA SPEAKS LIKE THIS. ] [ ♀J:\\ JOTETTE SPEAKS LIKE THIS. ]

The suit, when worn, made him agitated, angry, violent, egotistical, envious, and any other sense of the words, so much so that it took over his very soul, encasing it in a green hue, and wings, ever since, everyone wanted that exotic, digitized soul for themselves. The Jotette side grade makes Jay feels as if he's the prettiest thing on two legs, still as pyschopathic.

It was perfect for what he needed. He's been researching other worlds for a while, so they were next, but until then? He needed somewhere to cover up his research... the arcade would do just fine. He'd get to lounge around all day, and work on gaining more strength by night. Eventually, he opened the arcade, and attracted quite a crowd. He didn't feel much for them, just lambs to the slaughter, he thought. but eventually he grew fond of some of his visitors, some he loved seeing, some less so. his power grew... but he needed more. He eventually found other worlds, more creatures like his suit, “text doctors” as he calls them, more forms to take, more things to assimilate into his growing matrix of code and hate. J:\\ THE LESSER GODS \\\ In the world of digital evils known only by "EXEs", there lie creatures who couldn't get their hands on the vessels everybody knows them for, Sonic, Mario, Pac-Man, the like. These creatures have been festering inside unknown and uncared for video games, i.e one-off titles or edutainment games. They all think the ranks of Sonic.EXE have it too easy since they have more recognizable vessels, so they've decided to form in gangs of sorts, Jay has felt pity for them, and built a refuge for some of them called Circuitboard City. ENTRY #2: THE DIMENSION, THE BOARDER BETWEEN THE PHYSICAL AND DIGITAL REALMS

J:\\ OUTSIDE \\\\ A vast, black expanse, adorned with grid-patterned green lines and shrouded mountains that conceal Circuitboard City. Green floating stairs serve as the arcade entrance, the space under the arcade leading to an underground subway entry point for access to Circuitboard City.

J:\\ SUBWAY \\\\ The Subway, a dark green and somewhat dirty underground passage, links the arcade to the wonders of Circuitboard City, some Lesser Gods have taken refuge here as opposed to Circuitboard City.

J:\\ CIRCUITBOARD CITY \\\\

helped by @just-hyper-active The cyber-city sprawls beyond the mountains, initially visible like a distant skybox. However, the true nature of this place is revealed when you journey there through the Subway, unlocking Circuitboard City in it's fullest. Jay shelters Lesser Gods amidst the skyscrapers, surrounded by advertisements for JOTA's Arcade.

J:\\ ARCADE INTERIOR \\\\ Inside the arcade, a surreal extension of JOTA's twisted yet whimsical persona unfolds with moving wall patterns and nonsensical floors. Rows of cabinets, a prize corner, and a maintenance room entrance mark the journey. As one ascends towards JOTA's office, the rooms defy Euclidean logic, with unconventional door placements, and other such glitchy mishaps.

J:\\ HALLWAY \\\\ A simple hallway stretching to both the left and right of the office. J:\\ MYSTICS ROOM \\\\ A room where Jay's been studying various deities and other such creatures, such as Zalgo, Screech, and more. This room is to the left of the office hallway.

J:\\ JOTA'S OFFICE \\\\ JOTA's office, a dark green room adorned with silver accents. A faux bird rug lies in the center, and a dark green desk bears a lunatic's scribbles. Nearby stands a simple polygon statue of a pixelated emerald-textured plague doctor. Wall sketches depict a green heart with expansive wings and stylized plague doctors drawn from simple lines and shapes. Above, a mounted skull with a "GAME OVER - JOTAPHOBIA" plaque completes the room.

J:\\ JAY'S BEDROOM \\\\ Jay's bedroom, features a beanbag bed, the sole Sega Genesis in the arcade ever since a run-in with Sonic.EXE himself, Sonic posters, and invisible ink-laden posters of the other text doctors, the Cade Crew, and Jay himself. The dark green room houses a simple stand with drawers, holding obscure games, and a basic TV. This room is to the right of the office hallway.

J:\\ JOTA'S THRONE \\\\ On the main floor, JOTA's throne, a giant green chair, stands amidst corrupted textures and computer parts, adorned with a "GAME OVER" banner. J:\\ SUIT JUNGLE \\\\ Behind the curtains of the throne room lies the enigmatic Suit Jungle, featuring towering, unreachable arcade cabinets and one of them stands far above the rest, displaying myriad copies of JOTA's suit, glaring at whoever roams by, amid twisted metal trees and digital leaves, static falls like water and error messages are the closest thing to clouds, more copies of the suit are found crawling around, acting as birds, glitching green messages, seemingly written by Jay himself adorn the place's floors and walls.

the voices I have for all of my anons unless said otherwise: https://tts.cyzon.us EXE

Jay first encountered Sonic.EXE, also known as "X," during an event called Incident X. This voidspawn manifested itself as Sonic and attempted to claim Jay's soul. The encounter took place fashionably late at JOTA's arcade, following the Halloween EXE Takeover in 2023. Since then, X has been engaging in periodic battles with Jay's suit.

X derives pleasure from toying with human souls, leaving Jay concerned about how long he can keep the entity amused before facing potential death. In the aftermath of the incident, Jay discovered the existence of other entities similar to X, collectively referred to as The Lesser Gods or The X Underlings.

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sxtaep · 2 years

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ALL I WANT - JJK | two

having made the silly mistake of fucking your best friend, you both come to the conclusion that it shouldn’t happen again, but how long would you both keep lying to yourselves before making that same mistake?

pairing — jungkook x female reader

genre — fluff, smut

word count — 8.2k

warnings/tags — bestfriends2lovers!au, fuckboy!jk, textbooknerd!reader, dom!jk, sub!oc, denial, mentions of death (slightly unappealing details), teasing, lots of tension, steamy dancing, grinding, MORE TENSION, making out, explicit smut, semi-public, exhbitionism, voyeurism (balcony action), oral (f receiving), spitting, swearing, dirty talk, vulgar language, finger sucking, fingering, so much praise & complimenting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, ladies & gents), penetrative sex, creampie, gets kinda fluffy near the end.

a/n: omg i wasn’t expecting pt1 to get so much love i’m so shocked tysm everyone 😭💗🫶

if you’d like to read part 2, please dm me for the link!

if you haven’t got either of the links, please send me a dm rather than an ask or a reply under this post bc tumblr has a daily limit on the number of conversations i can start (silly tumblr 🙄🙄)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

taglist: @aliceaflor5-blog @kookiecrumb @jjkeverlast @prettyghost @kooliv @koobsessed @gimmethatagustd @pb-n-juju @aslias17 @here4btsfics @nadzzzblog @jossabelle88

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cobragardens · 8 months

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Self-Therapy in the Form of an Open Letter to Neil Gaiman and My Fellow Ineffables

Dear Ineffables, and Dear @neil-gaiman

I want to talk about Good Omens for a sec, ok? You are not obligated to listen! But if you want to listen, I have a Thing I need to say. And it's important to me and I have a Tumblr, so you can see where this is headed.

I know Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, book and show, is primarily about the absurdity and tragedy and miraculousness and contagiousness of being human. I know it's about wanting friendship and cake instead of victory and ashes, and I love that. I know it did not start out as an intentionally or unequivocally queer story, and I know that neither the queerness nor the Christianity is the main theme of S1 or the book. And I think those are all good things: one of the big strengths that makes Good Omens so remarkable and so charming is its lightness of touch.

But Crowley did not start out as a demon, and Aziraphale did not start out as a butter-smooth liar, and they are neither of them the angel the other knew, and there are reasons for that. And S2 starts discussing those reasons, and now Crowley and Aziraphale have shared a very human kiss and have started a more overt phase of their ongoing conversation about what they are to each other. So one of the things we need to talk about is what it’s like to love the wrong person in a world like the world of Good Omens.

And I feel like I have some (very small) amount of expertise in this field. I do not have the skill as a writer to tell you what that was like to grow up Christian and deeply in love with my (also female) best friend in Colorado Springs, Colorado, the evangelical Christian Mecca of the United States. But I did it--or, rather, it happened to me--so I'm the person who has to write about it now.

It was Before Ellen. Homosexual sex was against the law in around half of U.S. states. Only one state (Rhode Island, which I am not convinced actually exists) had a law prohibiting discrimination against LGB people in housing, services, or employment. One U.S. state—my state, Colorado—amended its state constitution to prohibit prohibiting discrimination. Same-sex marriage did not exist. Same-sex couples could not adopt children. Being any flavor of queer could cost you custody in family court of any children you did have.

Queer young-adult novels did not exist. Movies and tv shows with queer characters did not exist unless they were serial killers or dying of AIDS. Safe-sex education did not exist, the LGBTQ section of the bookstore did not exist. Social media did not exist, the Internet was in its infancy (I was typing up papers in AppleWorks on an Apple IIe), smartphones did not exist. Porn was in magazines your friend’s older brother or uncle kept under his mattress.

The guy everybody in school thought was gay got beat up daily. The girls I'm not sure about. I only ever saw two girls/women who were out before I was 28 and met an openly lesbian woman in a university class.

In Colorado Springs, bumper stickers for Colorado for Family Values and Focus on the Family, both headquartered in the city, were common. Crosses and ichthys decals proliferated. There were only a few “God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” stickers, but “Marriage = One Man + One Woman," or the same message in Ladies and Gents toilets symbols (with a pair of ladies and a pair of gents crossed out) were a regular sight on the backs of cars every day, every drive, my whole life there.

This was a world where there was one very specific God, who has one very rigid Plan, and whose Agents and Enemies fight each other for the eternal souls of every human being. And every player on the board was clear about this.

I was 12 when my dad and I met two women on a hiking trail and, after we all said hello and they three had chatted a bit and the women had walked on, he asked me if I had "gotten any spiritual witness about them." He told me he suspected they were lesbians.

I was 14 when I burst into tears and shouted at my dad when he spoke viciously of the two gay men who had come into his place of work earlier in the day. He called them “flaming” and “faggots.” I told him we were Christians and we were not hateful about people in that way. I didn’t know what the word faggot meant, not for sure (I picked up the meaning of flaming from his imitations), but I could tell it meant they were people who did awful things, and that he hated them.

I had never seen my dad like that before, hating someone. I had never heard him speak that way about anyone.

I was 16 when I rode in the back seat of our next-door neighbors’ Ford Focus on the way to Bible study and listened to the handsome Christian newlyweds up front discuss how awful it was that gay and lesbian couples were now allowed to adopt children in the state of New Jersey. It was bad, they said, that children could find homes with queer people “because children learn from their parents.”

I was 17 when 2 straight men beat and tortured Matthew Shepard and left him tied to a split-rail fence on the side of a road 3 hours north of Colorado Springs as a warning to the rest of us. A scarequeer.

A joke in poor taste, you may feel, this little pun. It is a pun, but it's not a joke.

One of Shepard’s murderers used the gay panic defense in court. In the U.S. the gay panic defense is one of reduced responsibility: a man cannot be held fully legally responsible for murdering another man if he claims he thought his victim was gay and making a pass at him. Because, under U.S. law, it is considered common for men to go temporarily insane and murder men they think may be gay and making a pass at them. I have rewritten this paragraph five times and that is the absolute least bananas I can make this sound. It is real and it is still a thing.

I was also 17 when Pastor Luis, the head of my church, preached in sermon about a member of the congregation who had fallen in love with another woman. He told us firmly: "She is no longer a lady. She is a lesbian."

He refused to counsel or marry them, services he insisted upon performing for the heterosexual couples among his congregants. He said he told the woman and her fiancee that they and their sin were not welcome in his house of God. He told us, the ones left, that we were not to contact the ejected woman or continue any friendships with her.

It was a small church, only about 60 people. Pastor Luis looked right into my eyes and held the eye contact with me (other peoole turned to look) when he said, "And if you don't agree with that, you are not welcome here either. You can leave now and never come back."

I did. For 10 years after that, I thought God had told Pastor Luis about me. That Pastor Luis had gotten the same "spiritual witness" off me that my dad had gotten off the 2 women we met backpacking. That he somehow knew—that any Christian might know if they listened, if they sniffed carefully enough. The smell of evil, I thought, must linger on me.

I was 18 when I got my first tattoo. My parents were relieved when I told them that’s all it was. "We thought you were going to tell us you were pregnant, or gay," they said.

I was 19 when a trans woman at a coffee shop told me about how she'd been fired as a substitute teacher from the biggest school district in the state. She didn't pass, so she dressed as a man when working. One day she made the mistake of wearing a women's button-down shirt (with the buttons on the left, not the right), and someone noticed and complained.

I was also 19 when my boyfriend's parents became concerned that he might be gay. (He had gotten his ears pierced and dyed his clipper cut pink while away at college.) As Christians his parents were against premarital sexual activity of any kind, including masturbation or sexual desire, so my bf couldn’t tell them how he knew he wasn’t gay, and for over a year they wouldn’t believe him. His mother bought some books from Family Christian Booksellers, the biggest Christian publisher in the U.S., about how as a Christian she should respond to her child’s queerness.

Throw them out, cut them off, and do everything you can to make sure your child starves and suffers, said the books. (I read them all.) Hunger and homelessness were the goal, they advised, but any misery you could cause was helpful. Turn other relatives against them, don't let them take their belongings when they go, cancel phone contracts and insurance plans.

When your child asks for help because they can't support themselves, you can force them to leave their beloved and drop their friends in exchange for survival, said the books. They will either eventually see that you and God are right and loving, and repent of their sin, or you will catch them lying to you and sneaking around, which is proof that homosexuality and other sins go hand in hand.

One book acknowledged that cutting them off would endanger teenagers and young adults and leave them vulnerable to rape, murder, and human trafficking (though it called being trafficked "prostitution"). But Christian parents acting in the name of God's love would not be responsible for the harm their kids suffered, it said: the children were bringing whatever happened to them on themselves as a natural consequence of living a sinful lifestyle.

In fact, said the book, being attacked or abused could be good for your children: if they suffer enough they may realize it’s their gayness that has caused all their problems and repent of their disgusting unacceptable love and desire.

In the United States, LGBT children represent 40% of homeless youth under 18. "Family conflict" is the number-one cause of LGBT youth homelessness.

I was 22 when the pastor of my boyfriend’s church received news that one of his congregants was engaged in a same-sex affair. Extramarital affairs were very common in his church—three of the deacons were cheating on their wives with other (also married) congregants, and my bf’s parents had been swingers —but this was the first and only time the pastor ever called a church member to the altar, outed him by described his sin to the congregation (c. 350), and demanded the man apologize to everyone and ask their forgiveness. The pastor told him that if he did not apologize he and his wife and children were not welcome to continue attending.

I was 23 when I heard that same pastor’s sermon on avoiding sexual temptation. Give up affection if it causes you to sin, he said. Scoop out your own eyes, cut off your own hand. He instructed men only to hug other men side-along, one arm around their shoulders, lest a real embrace cause them to feel sexual desire for another man. (No mention was made about how women should hug, or that women might ever feel sexual desire at all.)

I remember listening to this pastor's sermon and thinking, I know something about this man that he does not know about himself.

I was 24 when I went with my boyfriend to Pulpit Rock Church, seeking answers from the sermon they advertised on their signboard about sex and sexuality and gender. My boyfriend loved wearing women's clothes. Transgender and cross-dressing were just starting to replace transsexual and transvestite as the accepted terms for the things he might be. Nonbinary and genderqueer were not words we had. He wasn’t sure yet which thing he was; the thing he was was still, for us, unspeakable.

"Men are created to be men and women are created to be women," preached the pastor at Pulpit Rock. "Men and women are different in a way that can't be explained, and they fit together in a relationship in a divine way. A man and a man or a woman and a woman may love each other, but they'll never have the spiritual connection of a godly relationship that a man and a woman can have. We don't have to understand it, but we shouldn't question it, because that’s the way God made it."

Then he talked about how he and his wife could both make French toast (or maybe it was pancakes), but the way his wife made French toast was female somehow--ineffably--because she was a woman, even though the French toast was the same. My bf and I left in the middle of the sermon.

I was 25 when Ted Haggard, best friend of Focus on the Family founder James Dobson (of “Spongebob is teaching our kids it's ok to be gay” controversy) and pal of George W. Bush (the POTUS who pursued, in his own words, "a Crusade" in Iraq with the U.S. military to fight the influence of demons "Gog and Magog[…] at work in the Middle East"), was publicly outed. Male escort and Mike Jones—whom Haggard hired to sell him meth and give him happy-ending massages—recognized ‘Pastor Ted’ as the leader of Colorado Springs evangelical megachurch New Life Church, a nationally famous preacher who denounced the evils of homosexuality from his pulpit, and Jones, a big damn hero, tipped off the press.

I had heard Pastor Ted preach twice. New Life Church was a lot like Heaven in Show Omens in that it had a lot of open space and bright fluorescent lighting and smiling well-groomed people in it, as well as several giant digital screens floating in the air to either side of its dais on which the face of the straight-passing white man bringing his people the word of God was projected as he spoke. This latter feature also resulted in a slight resemblance to a Hitler rally, but there was more medium-stained oak in play than either Hitler or Heaven would find tasteful.

I was 26 when I acted as an informal lettings agent for one of my landlord's other apartments and the young Christian woman living downstairs asked me refuse shelter to any gay or lesbian people because she didn't want to have to live in the same building with them.

When I asked her how I was supposed to know whether someone was gay, she said, “Well you can just tell, can’t you?”

I was 30 when I came out to my Christian parents. Having read the Christian parenting books, I was hugely relieved when they didn't throw me out of their house, where I was living after college (and a few major depressive episodes and two global recessions). I was relieved that they wanted to continue to have a relationship with me at all, in fact.

"I still think it's a sin, though," my mother gently reminded me. My father has refused ever to discuss it at all.

I was 31 when I moved to the UK. I've spent 11 years trying and failing to scrape a living in the Thatcher-hollowed market towns around Manchester, under the fucking Tories, through fucking Brexit, through fucking May and fucking Boris and that weird little cabbage Liz Truss, in order to stay out of Colorado Springs. I can't get medical care on the NHS and I can't work or leave my apartment bc I can't get medical care and I can't heat my apartment in winter on Universal Credit and I’ve been threatened and assaulted by doctors and raped by a nurse and I’ve tried suicide a few times, and I'm in some smallish danger of dying here in Britain's left armpit, but I am not in Colorado fucking Springs today, am I. So that's something at least.

I was 41 and living in the UK for a decade when a homophobe with Christian parents shot up the only gay venue in Colorado Springs, Club Q, murdering 5 people and shooting 19 more. I'd been to Club Q a few times, on dead nights, when I lived in the city. The shooting was 24 years after homophobes tied Matthew Shepard to a fence and left him dying as a warning to the rest of us.

I never told my best friend I was in love with her.

Instead I had anxiety dreams in which my subconscious warned me I wasn't safe. In one dream, Not Yet appeared tattooed on the back of my hand as I looked at a female classmate who was dating another girl. I had to wear gloves to hide the rainbow that had appeared, indelible, on my ring finger.

My first kiss was with a (Christian) boy.

I knew what I felt for my best friend was effervescent and golden and breath-stealing. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, knew I wanted to live with her in a little house in the Pacific Northwest in the mist and the trees and make her coffee with a Turkish press anytime she wanted it and cuddle her on the closed porch and gripe about the wool in her sweater prickling my arms when I hugged her. I knew her eyelashes made her eyes look like they had stars in them and that she had the lushest curves and most perfect skin I had ever seen, and that when she smiled or laughed the shape of her mouth made something in me ache like tuning forks must ache when they're struck and made to sing.

I never told my best friend I was in love with her because I didn't know those were the words for what I was feeling.

Not until years later, after she had left my life. I had been told (frequently) by a Higher Authority that queer love was disgusting and ruinous and sinful and ugly and twisted and inferior, not this perfect fragile thing as soft and trembling-alive as a bird in my hands. Why would I think this was queer love?

I didn't catch the worst of it. I wasn't chained to a bed or forced to drink water from a dog dish, like the foster parents of the gay kid in class did to him. (The school asked him to give a talk to our class so they'd bully him less, so he told us about his life as the teachers looked on. He was 12.) I wasn't sent to conversion therapy like one classmate. I didn't spend most of my childhood in Bible School like other devout Christians' children; my family read the Bible a lot, and prayed together, but my parents weren't regular churchgoers. I was so, so lucky.

It destroyed me anyway.

The thesis of my essay runs thus, fellow ineffables: A happy ending for Crowley and Aziraphale is necessary.

It is necessary not just because Bury Your Gays is an overdone trope and an act of homophobia in the hands of straight writers; not just because Good Omens has been crafted with such loving care in both book and show incarnations to be optimistic, even sunny, against a backdrop of Orwellian, cosmic, and Kafka-esque horror; not just because casting miracles of the magnitude of David Tennant as Crowley and Michael Sheen as Aziraphale happen once a generation and it would be a shame and a waste not to write more magic for them to chew on; it is necessary because, in most places here in Shitworld, there are real people having the experience Crowley and Aziraphale are having, and not all of us are able to make happy endings for ourselves.

We don't have ethereal/occult powers or authorial control, so we need stories to show us how to love and when to fight and why to fucking bother. And the harder those things are to see in this world, the more we need those stories. And the more we need people with influence and audience and privilege telling them, not just all us little Tumblr rats and AO3 and Pillowfort perverts.

Crowley and Aziraphale exist in a fascist universe run by the ultimate Authoritarian—not Big Brother, but Big Father. There is nowhere for them to go, not even their own minds, where it is safe for them to love each other openly. I am completely prepared to believe someone in those circumstances could go 6,000 years without realizing the love they feel for their best friend is the kissing kind of love. I know someone can go a whole lifetime without saying it.

The hosts of Heaven and Hell will take away even the words for love when they can. We need people who don't just wield words but the power of the word spreading the message "There is a way to make this work. There is a way to exist. You can make a new world."

Mr Gaiman, I know from reading some of your other work that a big part of your whole Deal as a writer is an ongoing enthusiasm for the immense, even mystical, power stories have to shape individual and shared realities—sometimes to doom people and lock them into a destiny, but as often to let them escape their fate by imagining and conceiving a new way of living, or of living with each other, where none was possible before.

Hate and hope are the result of the stories we tell each other--I know you know this because I know you know that in saying it I am referencing a story you wrote. Like the hate, that hope only exists if an author says it does. And real people’s hearts, real people’s lives, are made and broken by listening to the wrong stories or hearing the right ones.

Crowley and Aziraphale are your characters, and Good Omens is your story to tell. You have written a setup in which, if you want these characters to be able to love each other, you (they) will have to create a world where that is possible. Please write us a romance. Please put enough sweet in with the bitter that we can survive it.

We have such faith in you because you have shown your readers and your audiences that you deserve that faith. Please choose your phrases wisely. ❤️

#good omens #good omens 2 #human rights #Colorado Springs #lgbtq #writing #religion #christianity #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #neil gaiman #stories #ineffable husbands #good omens s2 #trauma #mental illness #tmi #say your right words the goblins said

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