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Eddie had promised that it would only be a last resort. They weren't exactly overflowing with an abundance of good parents around them as examples, and frankly, Eddie wasn't sure he counted her among them. Still, they'd never tried to keep a very tiny human being alive, and he'd pinned her number to the corkboard with a sigh. Teenagers, he told Steve repeatedly, were not the same as infants. And although he understood arguments that their teenagers were a special kind of stupid, who had actually been very hard to keep alive, Eddie maintained they should have a backup plan available in case something got tricky when the baby arrived. He was, after all, only three months old. They might need help.
And here they were. At last resort. And earlier than he'd expected.
He sighed and dialed, hoping that Steve wouldn't hear the phone from the other room where he was in the rocking chair beside the crib.
"Help," he said.
"I'll be there in six minutes."
When Joyce arrived, she shoved a glass casserole dish into his hands and immediately went to the kitchen to wash her hands. She looked at Eddie expectantly.
"He won't sleep," Eddie said simply.
She smiled. "Well, babies not sleeping is—"
"No. The baby sleeps fine. It's Steve. Steve won't sleep."
Confusingly, Joyce smiled wider and patted him on the shoulder. "Ah," she said. "The firstborn problem. Where is he?"
"Nursery," Eddie sighed.
"On it. Why don't you go grab a shower?"
The suggestion was gentle, but Eddie still chuckled. He definitely needed that, even he could admit it. When he reemerged from the bathroom in a waft of cinnamon-scented soap, he found Steve, sprawled fully clothed on top of the duvet.
"Joyce said she'll watch him," Steve murmured, exhausted.
Eddie frowned. He moved to Steve and started pulling layers of clothing off of him. He offered Steve the soft grey tee he preferred to sleep in, but let him keep his boxers. It felt like more work than it was worth to get him into different pants. He was disappointed; he'd been hoping that Joyce would offer a better solution than someone else pointlessly watching the baby, but. Still. Sleep was sleep.
They both fell asleep immediately; Eddie dreamed of a unicorn that fed off the native honeysuckle in their yard. Just as the Protect Unicorns Society was telling him the house was going to be taken over by the government, Eddie awoke to a sharp cry, followed by the sound of Steve bolting out of bed.
Eddie followed at a more sedate pace, curious and also alarmed by Steve's movement. In the nursery, Joyce stood in the middle of the room, holding the baby, a bottle of formula in one hand as she rocked.
"Oh, look at that. Less than two minutes and you're both here," she teased with a grin. "It's almost like you're going to hear your child no matter how tired you are. Eddie, I declare you on shift. Steve, go back to bed. He's safe. He's got two great dads. Shifts, boys. You'll survive this."
Eddie took the baby and smiled at Steve. Joyce put both her hands on Steve's shoulders and squeezed.
"It's hard. It's scary. It never gets less hard or less scary," she said gently. "But you've got this. Don't make Eddie call me again. He hated it."
Steve looked at Eddie over Joyce's head and gave him a small smile at the sight of the baby, curled into his chest, quietly calming down. She patted him once more and left.
"We've got this?" Steve asked quietly.
Eddie grinned. "We've got this.”
He shifted the baby to a more comfortable position. The tiny weight in his arms felt both impossibly fragile and remarkably sturdy. He watched Steve's shoulders drop, the tension visibly draining away.
"Joyce is right about shifts, you know," Eddie continued, keeping his voice low and soothing as much for Steve as for the baby.
Steve ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "But you have that commission due next week. You need sleep, too."
"Hey, I've pulled all-nighters for way less important reasons." Eddie smiled, carefully settling into the rocking chair. "Remember when I stayed up three nights straight to finish that D&D campaign for the kids?"
"That was different. This is…" Steve gestured vaguely at the baby, who had started to drift off again, tiny fingers curling around Eddie's shirt.
"This is everything," Eddie finished for him. “This is everything."
CW: Suicidal Thoughts, Passively Suicidal Steve Harrington
I had an idea. So here's a little something I wrote for it, maybe I'll make this a full fic someday.
Steve Harrington being suicidal, but he's not, like, showing signs...if that makes sense? He isn't actively harming himself, or at least not to the naked eye—he does other things, like ignoring meals or taking too hot showers or biting his fingernails down down down until he's gnawing at his skin.
He isn't standing at the edge of cliffs or taking reckless drives or planning an overdose. Nothing like that. He thinks about it, sure. Thinks about what it would be like, if he just...died. If he died in the Upside Down, if his death would be worth it. If he died and how little his friends would react. Thinks about death a little too much.
He doesn't have plans. He doesn't have anything set in motion. He just thinks about it. Thinks and thinks and thinks about it. Sometimes caught in daydreams of it, what it would be like to just slip away from life and find somewhere quiet to die, like a cat or another small, helpless, terrified creature. He falls into himself over it. Imagining himself disappearing right within a crowded room. Imagining himself never talking again, just to see what it would be like. Imagining himself gone. Maybe moved. Maybe taken. Maybe murdered.
He doesn't care too much about what would happen to him. He doesn't care about disappearing, not like Joyce worries over Will, or like Will worries if he's ever out and about and alone. And Steve kind of wants to be alone sometimes. Just to see if he could handle it. If he could chase it. Maybe it would suffocate him, and he'd die that way instead.
He thinks about car crashes. About accidents. About cancer. About tripping and falling from too far up. About drowning because he's too tired. About jaywalking. About a roller coaster ride gone wrong. About a death that can't be in his hands. Somebody else is involved. Not him. Not willingly. But not caring enough to fully prevent it, not taking the precautionary measures, not paying attention, not listening to a natural gut instinct.
Steve thinks about being woozy from injuries. How fear never crept in. Just a slow, stretching acceptance that he would just feel that way. He didn't mind it. Never did. Never really will. He thinks about blood smeared around his eye and how he didn't see out of it for a week; he wasn't afraid, just in bliss that he didn't have to spend the energy to fully look.
He's not always there in the present moment. Somewhere above it. Where his body is never in the room. And his voice is never heard. And he is never acknowledged. He's just left. Alone or gone or never there to begin with.
Suicide is a passive thing for him. It's not a real thought, not really—that's what he would say.
Or...that's what he did say one night. Too high. Too loose. Too sprawled. Eddie Munson in the room, staring at him. "I think about the whole dying thing sometimes. Sounds kinda peaceful," he had said.
"I don't know, Steve. Death sucks."
Steve had shrugged. "I don't know. I just think about it. But it's never a real thought, not really. It's not like I wanna die or anything. Just...it happens. Maybe it'll happen to me, y'know. Maybe it'll happen soon."
"Do you...do you want it to happen soon?"
"Eh. I don't know. If it does, oh well. That's life."
And then Steve has eyes on him. He's not gone in a room. He's noticed. He's stared at. It's Eddie. Watching. Listening. Paying attention. He doesn't know what to do with that. If he should let the walls consume him, or if he should just let it happen. It's not uncomfortable, not really. It's new, though. It's different.
It kind of feels like breathing through a healed broken nose. It's new.
I think ao3 is literally the only site where no censorship means no censorship. you can post the most vile things on there — things that will get taken down on any other platforms — and ao3 will protect you, your works, and your rights to create whatever you want, however you want.
and no, this isn’t me saying “write that messed up, disgusting thing” because while, yes, write it if it’s what you want (I myself enjoy writing dark fics, something I believe would be considered “vile” to a lot of people), this is me saying in a world of censorship and capitalism, ao3 really is a treasure.
sometimes people experiencing psychosis and/or mania will come up to you on the street and talk in confusing or upsetting ways. your job is to either have a regular human-to-human conversation with that person or politely leave. your job is not to call 911. do not call 911. you might kill that person if you call 911.
I don't even have the energy to screenshot and respond to your tags- what the actual fuck is wrong with you? "the cops are scared and rightfully so" "mental health calls are the scariest for cops" OH so this isn't about the safety of psychotic & manic people this is about piggy feelings?
and no, actually, this is not USA specific and no, actually, people from other countries should not ignore this post. police violence and sanism weren't invented in the US and they are certainly not unique to here. if you (or anyone) thinks that this bullshit doesn't happen elsewhere then you are not listening.
Ebeneezer in 1742 wakes with a start as for some reason he has put out his guttering candle by slapping atop it ith the palm of his hand. His hand is burned and his nightgown and cap are spattered with hot wax.
when I used to drive I once walked to the front and bend down as if to start the crank. like. an a fuckin olde timey car. I never did it before or again but I will never forget how second nature it felt nor the cold breeze of 'what the fuck' that instantly followed
i once got home and tried to eat my dog's squeaky ball like an orange. thank god i didn't try to eat it like an apple, because after trying and failing to peel a small tennis ball for a couple seconds to get at the fruit, the rest of my brain kicked in.
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Steve high on pain meds after ANOTHER concussion and telling Eddie that he wants to marry him, that he wants to move to a big cozy house like his grandparents near like Michigan, that he wants 6 kids with Eddie, 4 girls, 2 boys, that he wants at least 2 dogs, that he wants family Christmas' with him, vacations, little traditions.
And Eddie's listening with a smile, because he knows Steve's just loopy from the drugs, but he kinda likes the future Steve's planning out
oh my GOD the askbox is so sweet and cute tonight I’m loving the vibes
Eddie just MELTING and then when Steve comes out of the pain med coma. He remembers what he said and he’s just happy because he’s been thinking it for weeks he just didn’t know how to say it without scaring Eddie off
We are back! And this story is complete and will be 17 chapters.
In this we have a batch of award shows, but not the Oscars yet. And we met the incredible Joyce Byers.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 |
~
“Take the glasses off!” “Take the glasses off!” “Take the glasses off!”
The press was relentless as Steve walked down the red carpet at the SAG Awards. He was in a simple black tux with an off-white vest and priest collar shirt.
He was still sporting his cut from ‘Black, No Sugar (Unless it’s You)’. It was a faux-hawk with frosted tips and he could tell from the reactions that people were not liking it.
He just smiled and waved at the fans who had shown up to see him, glasses firmly on his face. It was only once he got past the media and to the fan line up did the glasses come off.
A fan ducked her head and blushingly said, “I like your glasses.”
Steve grinned at her and tapped her pink tortoiseshell glasses. “Me too.” He signed her photograph and moved on to the next fan.
He finally got into the venue feeling a little stretched thin. He looked around and let out a pained sigh. He didn’t see Eddie or Elise anywhere. They were all seated together, but he couldn’t see them in the densely packed crowd.
The crowd parted and Steve let out a little gasp. There was Joyce Byers. She recently done a sequel to a Tim Burton movie and she was nominated tonight. She spotted him and made a beeline straight for him.
Steve frozen where he was. Someone as famous as Joyce Byers knew who he was. This was more terrifying than any audition ever.
“Steve Harrington,” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he managed to croak out. “I don’t think there is a person in this room who doesn’t know who you are.”
She blushed and waved her hand at him. “Flatterer!”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s not hyperbole or an exaggeration and you know it.”
Joyce’s smile went from shy to sly. “So all the rumors that you’re just a dumb bunny aren’t true, noted.”
“My parents have tried a lot of things to sully my name,” Steve said with a shrug. “That one was the one that stuck.”
Her face and shoulders fell. “I did hear about that, honey. I’m so sorry about how you were treated. I’m glad you were able to overcome all that and still act. I’m not sure I would have had that been me.”
He smiled at her. “All thanks to Robin Buckley and her parents. Owe them so much.”
“Richard was such a charmer back in the day,” Joyce said wistfully. “And Robin definitely gets that from him.”
“And she knows it,” Steve said with a grin.
“I just want to congratulate on that absolutely sublime of a film you did with her,” she said with bright smile, putting her hand on his forearm. “If they have any sense in their head, all three of you will win tonight.”
“Thank you for that,” Steve said, positively beaming. “We all know that there is very little sense in Hollywood. It’s practically embedded in its DNA.”
Joyce laughed. “That certainly true. But there was another reason I came over. Are you familiar with the film critic, Nancy Wheeler?”
He frowned. “A bit. She was the one who broke the story of my being caught in the back of a limo with a producer back in the day. I don’t have very fond feelings toward her for that. Even if she thought she was doing her job.”
She nodded grimly. “She’s friends with my Jonathan and I happened to overhear an argument they were having over her next article for Variety.”
“Uh oh,” Steve said darkly. “That can’t be good.”
“No,” Joyce said with a grimace. “She’s writing a piece about how only people of LBGTQ+ people should play those roles and that in this day and age actors don’t have the ‘problems’ getting non-gay roles these days, therefore they should just come out.”
Steve let out a pained sigh. “Going after Eddie for not being gay and going after me for playing to ‘type’ in the same breath. That is some extra kind of fuckery.”
“Agreed,” she murmured. “I was looking for Eddie to tell him, but I spotted you first. Jon was really upset about it, especially since I’m currently dating Jim.”
“So he was looking out for his mom’s boyfriend,” Steve surmised. “Because that kind of backlash would absolutely blow back on the movie itself.” She nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll pass it along and let my agent know we’ll need to get out ahead of this.”
“Of course,” Joyce murmured. “I’ve told Jim and if you tell Eddie then we can all avoid this unpleasantness.”
Steve thanked her and then set off for where his seat was supposed to be, and thankfully Robin and Eddie were already there.
He gave each of them a hug as a greeting but when he hugged Eddie, he whispered, “There’s something I need to talk to you about of the ceremony.”
Eddie just nodded and they all sat down for the award show, Steve sitting between the two of them.
The lights dimmed and the comedian hired to host immediately started in on the jokes. Making everyone they could vaguely uncomfortable and being asinine.
Steve grimaced through the butt jokes about a couple of queer movies including their own. He really hated those kind of jokes because there were plenty of people on both sides of the aisle that enjoyed it and making it a joke only served to further stigmatize it from someone who might actually enjoy it from trying it.
First up was Steve for Best Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture.
“And the winner is...” said the rail thin blonde who looked only vaguely familiar. “Steve Harrington- ‘Dancing in the Dark’!”
Eddie and Robin were pounding on his back and congratulating him. He went up to stage and took the award from her.
“Wow,” he breathed. “There are a lot of awards worth having, but I think the greatest one you can get is when your own peers see the work you do as worthy. So thank you. Also thank you to my best friend and best director an actor could ever dream of, Robin Buckley, my co-star Eddie Munson, you make my work better just being who you are, Richard Buckley for giving me the chance, and to all the cast and crew who all came out of this movie with a hatred of Karo syrup and red dye.” He raised the award and then repeated, “Thank you!”
There was thunderous applause and he was carefully lead away as someone slipped into his empty seat.
He was brought back stage and the award was whisked away and he was given a heavier actual award that he was told to get engraved later. Then he was shoved in front of cameras and interviewers as they shouted questions at him.
“What do you say to rumors that you are dating your co-star, Eddie Munson?” was the first shouted question.
Steve burst out laughing. “God, if you believed every rumor about Eddie’s dating life, he’ll have had seventeen boyfriends and forty-two girlfriends in the last three years alone. Give it up, guys. He’s never going to come out and tell you who he’s dating and frankly, you won’t hear it from me either.”
“That’s not a no,” the interviewer said wagging their eyebrows.
“It’s a ‘none of your business’,” Steve insisted.
“Steve!” another interview called. “What’s next for you?”
Steve looked over and smiled. It was Veronica Stiles. The interviewer who had threatened to eviscerate anyone who asked him the hair question again.
“I’ve got a busy and packed schedule coming up,” he said with a smile. “I just wrapped up ‘Black, No Sugar’ with Jim Hopper and I’m on my way to play video game heartthrob and swashbuckler Billy the Blackheart. Then if all goes well you might be seeing me in tight spandex soon.”
“Oooh...” Veronica cooed. “Any hints on who it might be? Like DC or Marvel?”
Steve just smiled and shook his head. “My lips are sealed.”
There were a few more questions and then he was allowed to finally go back to his seat, award in hand.
Eddie shook his shoulder in excitement and grinned back at him.
There were a few more awards and then it was time for Best Leading Actor in Motion Picture. Steve reached out and took Eddie’s hand. Win or lose, Steve would still be proud of Eddie’s work on the film.
“And the winner goes to...” the presenter said, tugging at the envelope. “Gosh, they sure do seal these things tight.”
Eddie’s knee started jumping up and down from the sheer amount of suspense.
“And the winner goes to, Billy Hargrove- ‘Light of an Alaskan Dawn’!” she screamed.
There was a bunch of clapping and Eddie looked up at the camera as it passed over him, his disappointment evident on his face. Billy’s movie was pure awards bait and everyone knew it. It was an one-man epic about a man struggling with depression during the six months of no light in Alaska and how like the sun, he eventually came back around.
Steve leaned over and whispered something in Eddie’s ear that made him burst out laughing just as Billy passed them.
Billy shot the two of them a dirty look, but wisely said nothing as he got up to give his acceptance speech. He spoke about how meaningful the movie was and how grateful he was for the opportunity.
Steve wanted to gag, it was all too much. And likely too fake, too.
The music began as Billy waffled through his speech, so he raised his award and then was led off stage.
Robin gave them a strange look, but continued the rest of the show ignoring them.
She cornered them both and demanded to know what Steve said to Eddie that made him burst out laughing.
Steve shook his head. “I’ll tell you after I tell you what Joyce Byers told me before the show, because wooboy are we going to need something light to brighten the mood.” And then he explained her warnings.
“Did you hurt Nancy Wheeler in a former life or something?” Eddie asked with a scoff. “Dated her brother? Something, anything.”
Steve actually grimaced. “Not her brother, no. But our parents were friends and they set us up, I think her parents thought that dating a movie star would get her into places she wouldn’t have otherwise. Then when she cheated on me with...” he let out a pained sigh.
“Jonathan Byers,” Robin finished for him. “Though in Jon’s defense, she told him they had broken up when they had sex. They even dated for awhile before Jon found out about the cheating.”
“Holy shit,” Eddie hissed. “I would have dumped her too. My uncle always said never date a cheater because how they got you is how they’ll get the next one.”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, that what he said his mom said, too. Then of course Jon leaving her was my fault so she stalked me for awhile to try prove that it wasn’t her fault she cheated.”
“Oof,” Eddie muttered shaking his head. “So what, is she anti-LQBTQ now?”
Robin snorted. “That would hypocritical of her considering she’s got her own girlfriend, but it’s more that she’s gone down the leftist rabbit hole of only disabled people should play disabled people, trans people should play trans, gay should play gay... etc.”
Eddie’s eyes went wide. “It’s dickheads like her that made that one British actor come out as bi after playing a bi teenager. Like the kid was barely seventeen at the time but he was forced to come out just to stop the harassment.”
“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod, “and I think she’s smelling blood in the water.”
“Fuck!” Eddie said softly. “She’s not after you, she after me.”
Robin pursed her lips. “I’ll lunch with Bob, Chrissy, and Jim and see if we can’t form a unified statement.”
Eddie and Steve nodded.
“So what was it that you told Eddie that made such a scene?” she asked pulling her phone out of her purse.
Eddie and Steve shared a glance and then Steve said, “That he must have slept his way through the SAG-AFTRA voters.”
Robin blinked at them for a moment before nodding solemnly. “That tracks. The media likes to portray Stevie here as a slut, but I don’t think Billy’s gone to an event with the same woman twice.”
Steve grinned, feral. “They only do that because I’m gay and Billy’s straight. Trust me if the shoe was on the other foot, they would absolutely be painting Billy with the same brush.”
“True,” Eddie said. “At least a made a disappointing moment more fun.”
“Don’t worry, darlings,” Robin said, putting her phone away and then draping her arms over each of them. “There is always the Oscars!”
Eddie Munson is a small fantasy writer. He has his fanbase, sure, but he is not famous in any way. Imagine the surprise in the faces of the couple of fans chatting with him at a book fair while he's signing their books when world renowned actor Steve Harrington comes up to bring Eddie iced coffee to fight the heat.
Steve just came to support his boyfriend because he was nervous no one was going to show up to his first signing event ever and wanted Steve there, he doesn't get what the big deal is.
given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that
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I never liked those posts that reduce the Disney princesses to “girl who overacts about something and dramatically flings herself down and bawls” (super popular in the early 10’s and somehow that’s how a shocking majority view the classics now) but after an Aladdin (1992) rewatch, it’s especially egregious that they ever included Jasmine in that.
This part. This is the part I’m talking about
This is not a woman falling to pieces because her father won’t let her marry a man she just met.
This is a woman born to a life she has very little say in. She has never had a genuine friend (besides a tiger). She is facing a marriage to a man she doesn’t know and doesn’t like but duty (and the law) demands it. So she took a risk, ran away, ran to a world she doesn’t know or understand and when she landed in trouble (serious, serious trouble) a stranger came to her aid. She finally (finally!) made a real connection with someone but they didn’t get much time together before the guards showed up and she had to reveal who she was.
This moment when she’s crying her heart out? It comes after she’s been told that the first person she ever connected with, the first person to be genuinely interested in her for who she is and not what she is, the first real friend she has ever made, was executed… because of her.
She believes a good, innocent person has lost their life because of her actions, and what’s more, it brings home the reality for her that she cannot have a normal life or normal relationships, because see the consequences one little attempt wrought?
I actually love this trope. People treat crying like some kind of moral failure. Boys shouldn't cry, girls *can* cry, but that's also what makes them inferior. If this is not an example of toxic masculity, I don't know what is.
Crying is normal. Even if it's over something trivial. We all face a lot of struggles in their lives, whether we acknowledge it or not. Something minor might end up breaking the camel's back.
Anyway, here's one of my favorite scenes in Beauty and the Beast:
Belle's reaction is completely understandable. I think Mrs. Potts put it best: "The girl lost her father and her freedom all in one day." That's not overreacting!
Really, none of the classic princesses deserve the misinterpretation.
Cinderella?
Again, this is not after someone told her “yOu CaN’t MaRrY a MaN yOu JuSt MeT”—this is after she went to great lengths to get ready for the ball, adhering to the intentionally difficult (meant to be impossible) stipulations set by her abusive step-mother for her to be allowed to attend (when really she was invited and had as much right as the others to attend). She made that dress (I can’t recall off the top of my head if the classic animated version was also her mother’s old dress she restyled or not but still, she put in a ton of work on top of all the extra house work) and what did her step-family do? They tore to shreds while she was wearing it. Of course she’s lost hope: it’s the final straw after years and years of doggedly remaining optimistic despite constant harsh treatment.
Let’s go to another favourite: Mulan.
Mulan’s just had the worst day.
She tried her hardest to live up to her family’s and her society’s expectations and vision of a perfect bride but she failed. Not only did it go wrong, but she was publicly humiliated by the Matchmaker—by extension, humiliating her family.
Granted, her family has been kind and sympathetic about the whole thing. Her father even goes to encourage her, assuring her of his unconditional love for her and his confidence that she’ll get it right next time.
She’s just beginning to smile when the drums pound and news of war reaches their village. Her father—her beloved father who’s already a veteran and lives with a disability—is expected as the only male in their family to suit up and head out in the morning.
Mulan can’t help. Nothing she says will be listened to and she can’t take his place (until, of course, she thinks of a way to do so which this moment of crying it out in the rain leads to—score one for having a good cry and clearing your head).
There’s of course more. Take any princess’ dramatic crying momentTM and review the context and I’ll bet you’ll see it’s never as trivial as some have framed it. And, yes, like prev pointed out, it’s this awful thing of people believing boys can’t cry and girls can but then they can never be taken seriously.
Crying is healthy. And crying in response to emotional distress is totally normal. Writers and storytellers across the ages have understood it and portrayed it.
Hannah Montana is fucked up because its entire POINT as a show is that children should be protected from fame and exploitation, but it stars a REAL little girl that's being exploited. Nearly every episode carries the looming threat of Miley being outed as Hannah and losing her peaceful teenage life to the ravages of fame. Her father in the show (played by her own father in real life) wisely protected her from the trauma of fame by making her wear a disguise and live a rather quiet, interview-free life. Meanwhile the REAL Billy Ray Cyrus sold his daughter to Disney Channel when she was 11 and forced her to read dialogue about how terrible it would be to face the public eye. Like... Jesus, dude. The fictional Robby Ray is 10x the father, and it's not even close. (It's also IMMENSELY funny that her dad doesn't use his real name in the show, while she does. Almost like he wanted a bit of a disconnect between his identity and his character. Something Miley didn't get.)
There's a dissertation somewhere about the girl from Bolt being voiced by Miley also being a deliberate choice to comment on children in the entertainment industry.
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dededos
discoholicmusic
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
