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#AND MADE IT DESERVING OF BEING THE BOX ART
heartshapedmisery · 3 days
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CHILDISH BEHAVIORS
The last practice and argument that led to your final day with the Ferguson International Tennis Academy.
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warnings ― .゚‪‪ ˖ language, heavy arguing, nothing else really idk this is kinda just background stuff lol
taglist ― .゚‪‪ ˖ @elaci @depressedgothgrl
author's note ― .゚‪‪ ˖ hope you guys enjoy! I promise the reader isn't an asshole she just has a very fiery personality lol. also i don't know if made this clear or not, but this series takes place after the events of challengers and art and tashi are divorced! (i love my girl but it just wouldn't make sense for this for them to still be married.) lmk what you guys think! :)
PROLOGUE, LUCK OF CHAMPIONS | Art Donaldson x fem!reader, Challengers (2024)
New Rochelle, New York. 2019.
When it came to your life outside of tennis (which truly held very little validity in your mind), you never considered yourself to be an aggressive person. And you would attest that others would agree, and they would, but the second you got a racket in your hand and you stepped out into that box, it was almost as if you were a completely different person.
You don't intend to be hard-putting, but you simply have always been that way. Tennis dominated your entire life; ever since you were a kid, you had no desire to pursue anything that didn't involve hitting a ball with a racket. Somehow, this fueled your need to be competitive. To win every game, because in your mind, if you didn't, it held no value.
Though it was a toxic way of thinking, it kept you on your toes. It pushed you even harder to become the best, and eventually after strenuous time and effort, you did.
But your desire to be superior seemed to overtake your love for the game, which alarmed your peers and coaches. It was unhealthy.
"No one can devote their entire being to this sport and still remain human," you had been told, but it all seemed circumstantial. You wanted to be great, and you knew you could be great. But how could you get that without pure dedication to your craft?
You can't.
"Slam that damn racket again and you're out of here!"
You could feel the blood pumping through your ears as your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, your fingers white-knuckling your racket.
Coach Ferguson, the man you had trained with for the past year, stood irritated with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head at you. Even through the darkness of his Ray Bans, you could see the piercing, disappointed look you had become all too familiar with.
"Would you rather me chuck it at him?" you pointed it in the direction of the trainee you had been practicing with. "Because that's what he deserves for the way he keeps serving me a weak ball. I keep having to scramble for the damned thing."
The young trainee stood sheepishly, taking the ridicule from you without a word. You practically spit the words at him, heat rising in your chest just as the reminiscence of it.
"Watch your tone when you're talking to me," Ferguson barked and pointed a taunting finger at you. "You're here because of your talent, not because I enjoy the pleasure of your company. You would've been gone a long time ago if you were."
You hated to sound egotistical, but you were by far his best player. His words didn't scare you. At least, they didn't yet.
"Oh, boo hoo, like that's going to hurt my feelings," your tone was laced with sarcasm. "Just let me get back to this, will you? I promise all of your precious rackets will be safe."
You dismissed him as if he wasn't the one who wrote your checks every month. It almost made him laugh.
"My office. Now." he told you sharply before turning on his heel and leaving, waving off the trainee to go collect the tennis balls you had been hitting and taking them back to the locker rooms.
You contemplated if you wanted to ignore him or obey his orders, before doing the latter and following him down the path to the main building.
The cool AC hit your face refreshingly as you walked through the lobby, your eyes leisurely watching the TV that was playing old rerun matches behind the front desk.
Donaldson v. Richards. 2012.
The match undoubtedly intrigued you; your appeal was centered toward Donaldson, mesmerized by his powerful backhand and effective open stance. He glided across the court with ease, scoring points left and right with a demeanor that almost came off as bored.
You only allowed the game to hold your attention for a moment before you followed Ferguson into his office like a troubled delinquent making your way into the principal's office. In a sense, the situations weren't all that different. You still slumped down in the chair across from his desk with a sour look on your mouth while he gave you a disapproving look.
"(L/N), I hate to do this to you, but this," he gestured to your uninterested and bitter attitude, "Isn't working anymore."
You weren't sure what to say. You had expected him to rip you a new one, not talk to you as if he were about to kick you to the curb. Was that what he was doing?
"i don't understand," you said simply, an uneasy feeling stirring in your chest.
"You haven't won a match in over a month, your temper is out of control, and you're ripping people's heads off left and right. It's not healthy and I don't think this is the right place for you right now."
The words flowed from his mouth so easily, almost as if he had been itching to say it to you for a while now. It was what you needed to hear, but you just didn't want to listen.
"What? You're seriously not kicking you out, are you?" you snapped, standing from your chair.
"I'm not kicking you out. I'm asking you to take a break. This isn't goodbye forever, just for a little bit. Take a year off, get yourself back in order, and then we can renegotiate a new contract for you."
Your stomach dropped farther the more he spoke, an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment washing over your senses. Yeah, you could be a little over the top sometimes, but you never thought you would be asked to leave.
"You can't do this," you tried, but Coach Ferguson simply shook his head.
"Remind me, who's name is on the sign out front?" he asked rhetorically. "I can, and I will. This is what's best for you right now, even if you don't agree with me."
Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you didn't let them. The last thing you needed was to be crying like a baby and look even more unstable than he already thought you were.
"The US Open is right around the corner, if I stop training now I won't be able to qualify in August."
He gave you a helpless shrug. "You should've thought about that before you started losing all these matches. As of right now, you're right at the cutoff for qualifying. If you were to try for it now, you'd have to work twice as hard to earn your spot―which I don't think you're capable of doing."
His words felt like a knife to the heart. He used to tell you he would always believe in you, that he'd always be there for you when you needed him.
So much for keeping his word.
"That's bullshit and you know it," you snapped.
"You're not making this very easy for me."
"Good, because you shouldn't even be doing it in the first place!"
He simply shook his head, resisting the urge to bark back a snide response. "Get out. Right now. You're being childish. I'm not going to sit here and argue with you."
He pointed to the door, unable to meet your eye as you scoffed in his face. You couldn't believe him.
"This is all I can do for you right now. Either take my offer or leave."
You didn't want to give in to him. You didn't want to give him that satisfaction after he had made you look like a complete fool.
"Fuck this." was all you could muster up, tightening your fist relentlessly as you stormed out of his office and down the hall, not sure where you were headed but you knew it would be far away from here. You felt like a child throwing a tantrum and you hated it because you knew he was right.
You were quick and silent as you cleaned out your locker since it was the only way you could keep yourself from bursting into tears. You felt ashamed; after all of your hard work and dedication to this academy, this was what you got in return. It felt like a kick in the gut, but it was what you needed in order to realize that you were better than all of this.
Deep down, you knew you were capable of making it to the US Open. You were going to prove it. How? You weren't completely sure. You were without a coach and you were all alone, which was something you never thought you would have to admit to yourself.
You needed a plan; Something to tie together the loose ends that had unraveled within the past hour. So, the second you got home to your apartment two blocks from the academy, you scoured the internet for a saving grace.
Phil's Tire Town Wildcard. New Rochelle, New York.
March 17th, 2019.
APPLY NOW!
Bingo.
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luckyfaeth · 2 years
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despite all the graphics issues, pokemon scarlet is one of my favorite pokemon experiences ive had in years
(granted, i also did not really have major glitches so it really didn't hinder my experience that much)
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bitchesgetriches · 3 months
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{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal
We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.
On food and groceries:
How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss
Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic
If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You
You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid
You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.
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The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend
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Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics
Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership
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Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question
Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague
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3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 
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The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years 
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I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online
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How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?
In Defense of Shameless Regifting
Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities
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Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse
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The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending
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Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead
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The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess
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lizardsfromspace · 7 months
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So I guess Film Twitter is apoplectic with rage over some people suggesting they have intermissions in long movies. Not over theaters adding one without the director's consent, but like, at the concept of them
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...by which I mean, getting mad at disabled people daring to have complaints. There's a lot of "HAHA are you so STUPID you can't go beforehand? You can't HOLD it for three hours?" and implying you don't deserve to experience art if you can't
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And, of course, because Film Twitter is a bunch of insular discourse-addled dipshits, they're tying this...to Marvel. Yes, people are only saying they have health conditions that make sitting still for a three hour movie is because...they're Marvel fans mad at Scorsese, or something?
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Why is this complaint new? Well, bc runtimes are ballooning to the levels of the old epic filmmaking days of the 50s-70s. And those movies...had intermissions. Multi-act plays have intermissions. Bollywood films have intermissions. Intermissions were literally just abandoned so studios could cram in more screenings, not out of an artistic ideal. But anyone saying "this would make it easy for me to access this film I want to see" needs to be viciously shouted down and called a moronic, lazy child hating on Scorsese bc of "discourse"
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I've seen that meme multiple times and Jesus, look at the bizarre disdain for your fellow human beings embedded in it. You dare still bodily exist during a Martin Scorsese movie? You have a disability I don't? Well, I have no problem just peeing beforehand and not buying popcorn or a soda (you should really just sit their quietly until it's done, when you can pull out your phone to log it on Letterboxd), so what's your problem?
Calling people who are into non-blockbuster films "film bros" is mostly untrue, but man, the hardcore Film Twitter types unambiguously check every box. They're certainly dismissive of anyone outside their little box; extremely insulting, in fact, of how anyone who disagrees with them even slightly must be a Marvel-addled hysterical artless moron. Because nothing says "artistic appreciation" like preemptively calling analysis of a movie's choices "discourse" ("Ugh, I can't believe the DISCOURSE about how a movie portraying a morbidly obese man portrays obese people" - what should they talk about, then, if the movie's subject is instantly off the table?) They think the idea that someone out there may have a disability that prevents them from sitting in one place for three and a half hours is a laughable thing made up by the internet; or when people pointed out that a movie only getting one or two screenings a city may be inaccessible to working people, and these bloggers and podcast hosts dunked on the idea that working class people may like art as a hilarious, made-up thing.
I don't know, maaaaaaybe classing the life experiences and complaints of anyone who isn't you as "discourse" and presuming it's made-up kvetching about nothing as a matter of course is bad, cruel nonsense, actually?
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shadesoflsk · 6 months
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BLANCA NAVIDAD
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pairing: leon kennedy x fem reader.
summary: Leon never liked Christmas. Memories of him being taken away from his parents and countless missions made him a bitter man. However, he wouldn't have guessed that one day, he would be placing Christmas stockings with a wife and a little bundle of joy next to him.
warnings: Mostly fluff, dad leon, mentions of injuries, alcohol problems, Leon being an orphan, mild hurt (nothing bad I swear) so cheesy and sappy.
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"to give up one's very self – to think only of others – how to bring the greatest happiness to others – that is the true meaning of Christmas."
The sounds of boxes being moved filled your living room. It’s the first week of December, and both of you have postponed the task of adorning your house with Christmas stuff until now. Between Leon’s job and your newfound activity (taking care of your 1 year old daughter) it’s been nearly impossible to find enough time to dedicate yourself to this special holiday. 
Leon had told you it was more than okay if you wanted to do it by yourself. He knew how much you love this holiday. And ever since halloween ended, you found yourself eager to buy even more stuff to fill your home with. Nonetheless, you waited for your husband. There was no way you would let this opportunity slip away.
And, as you walked into the living room carrying a box albeit Leon’s constant bickering about how you shouldn’t lift heavy things, your heart melted at the sight of Leon placing a christmas hat on you guys’ daughter, which was too big on her and partially covered her sight.
“Da-da” With the baby on his hip, Leon was once again trying to teach his daughter how to say his “name.” It all started with a simple joke about him being the favorite parent, but now it has turned into a serious situation, at least for him. He wanted his daughter to master the art of speaking before Christmas. Although he has noticed that his little one barely said anything else than babbling nonsense. She was almost there, those bwaaah would turn into dada, he was sure.
She had none of that, though. As soon as Leon started talking, she laughed. As if he was telling her the funniest joke ever. Your daughter had heart eyes for both of you, but you had to admit it – she was definitely a daddy's girl. The way her eyes get so big whenever she sees Leon, and how her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb each time he's feeding her – yeah, she loves her dad.
He was an expert in fatherhood. He had no recollection of ever taking care of kids before. But, as soon as his little girl was born, the father's instincts kicked in. The way her cries filled the hospital room made him want to turn off the world for a second and give his daughter and wife a well-deserved moment of peace.
However, he never thought his life would get so lucky that he would get to experience being a dad. Ever since he was born, he was surrounded by disaster and misfortune. Having to grow up at an orphanage wasn't the most ideal place to mold a child into a perfect human being, but it seems that the little time he had spent with his parents shaped him correctly.
“Ma-ma.” You walked behind Leon and placed a hand on his other hip. Your baby instantly kicked her little feet in excitement for seeing her mom. Maybe she's a mama's girl, too.
“Hey! She was almost saying dada.” Leon feigned disappointment as you tried luring your daughter into saying mama first. This was a competition between you and Leon. Which prize will be having the satisfaction of being the “favorite parent.”
“Yeah of course. My bad.” You chuckled, voice filled with sarcasm knowing that your daughter has been the laziest of babies. Most 1 year old babies already say mama or dad. Or both. Yet this little rascal just likes existing, eating, sleeping, and exploring.
Leon saw you carrying a box and sighed in mild disappointment. You could already hear him saying “I told you not to carry heavy things.” Ever since you recovered from surgery, he has gotten even more doting. Every need of you was met by the second, and you wouldn't complain, but you're still a functional adult who can actually lift boxes.
You remember when things didn't used to be like this. In the past, you weren't instantly devoted and whipped for the man that is now teaching your daughter how to say dada. You remember how your past self leaned over the counter, you were met by an usual reek of alcohol this man had. And, with a witty and drunk smile, he said his usual line.
“Another bottle here.” It was his third one that night. Not his third glass, his third bottle. He was slowly killing his liver and himself by the way kept drowning in this deadly and burning liquid. You had never met him before, but the way his dark blue eyes sometimes shone under the dim light, you knew he once was someone important. Or at least, someone needed.
“That would be your third one tonight.” You stated matter-of-factly. However, Leon didn't miss the way you refused to move and get him his booze. 
“Look at that… Smarty knows her numbers. Aren't you so, so clever?” The disdain in his voice had reached your ears. He was never the talkative client, he just spent all of his nights at your bar and drank to his heart's content. You know you shouldn't stick your nose in someone else's business yet you couldn't bear nor allow him to basically kill himself in front of you.
“Now can you please shut up and serve me another bottle.” He groaned as the empty bottle almost fell from the counter. His heavy eyelids almost closing if it wasn't from the fact that after the words he spat, you threw a glass of water to his face.
“You don't fucking talk to me like that.” Your usual warm and easy going self was long forgotten. No matter how many hardships and problems he may have, there was no way you would let him walk all over you like that. “I don't know what fucked up things you have experienced or how many people have betrayed you. But if you have time to drown yourself in this addiction and be mad about it, you also have time to make a change.”
Those words stuck with him. He knew he was being pathetic, Chris, Rebecca, hell even Claire had told him the same thing too. But he felt even more miserable when a random bartender called him out like that. Especially when you just needed to complete your job. Why would someone care? He pays, he gets his booze, repeat. But, you at least cared, even though it was something every rational human would do.
Eventually, his daily dose of booze decreased. You witnessed the small changes in him. Going from three bottles to just one, and to finally a few glasses. You witnessed how his usual dark clothes were replaced with a somewhat more colorful attire which brought out his once dull and empty blue eyes.
His slender frame slowly took form, recovering his muscles which were more visible now. His stubble remained, though. It was like a reminder of his own age – and his now different approach in life. Wiser and more careful with his own decisions. Your words didn't completely change him, but they surely helped him to see his life in another light.
Ultimately, a new Leon set foot in your bar. He was beaten up, his navy blue shirt had some blood spots while his dark brown hair was disheveled. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder. “If you ever need a tour guide in San Francisco let me know.” He said with a charming smile as you moved around your area of work. 
“I'll keep that in mind. What can I get you?” You chuckled as you went to retrieve his order. You could already hear him say it.
“Grape juice...” 
“And your number.”
Soft whines pulled you back from your trance as your babygirl grips on Leon's shirt. She wipes her face against the fabric. The little one was starting to get fuzzy since nap time had come. 
“Oh, someone is sleepy.” He coos, bringing her closer to his chest. Leon takes off the little Christmas hat that was on her head. Immediately, the little one brings her hand to her hair. She has picked up the habit to caress her own hair when falling asleep. Before she even gets to cry, Leon rocks her to sleep. His deep voice soothes her, the gentle tunes of a Christmas song was his choice of the day.
“May your days be merry and bright and may all your christmases be white.” Leon wasn’t the best of the singers but he would sing his heart out to his daughter. It was a tradition now since Leon never had someone to sing to him. The baby calmed down at a comical rate, as if she just needed her dad’s embrace to feel safe. She was safe. As long as Leon lives, you and his miracle would have the best life ever.
“I’m almost jealous, she falls asleep so fast with you.” You set down the box, stretching your arms. This is the first box out of so many, you weren’t the biggest spender nor a shopaholic but when you married Leon, some perks came with him. Those perks included having unlimited access to his black card which you use wisely. 
Wisely was an understatement, though. Having several copies of the same gingerbread man who dances every time you press a button wasn’t the wisest decision. But you and your daughter love it so Leon has to shut up. Everything for his family.
In the past, Christmas was a simple but dreadful date. He didn’t understand the point of it. When he was a rookie cop, he at least tried to force some polite smiles and give words of affirmations to his colleagues back at the police academy. He stupidly thought that once he got to work, his life would change. But the universe had other plans for him that night in September. He spent that year’s Christmas wishing to die. The government had taken away his right to end his life. Dying wasn't an option. The girl he saved back in Raccoon City, Sherry, needed him. 
Year after year, he grew resentful, angry and bitter. He expected to spend this holiday alone until his last days of life. Having to grow old and wither away, no one to care, no one who would remember him as a human and not a machine. Not the government’s lap dog.
But somehow, he met you. He was a dick at first, he knew it. Until this day, he never understood how you could choose him.  There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go back to his addiction one day. He vowed to never do it again, and he was sure to keep his promise. However, you could never know the extent of his words. You lived –at least to Leon– uncertain of how long he would be sober. But much to his dismay (or pleasure) you gave a chance to that renewed man, to that agent who had come from a mission in San Francisco that almost got him killed.
He was content with just you. He never asked for more, scared of being too greedy, too wishful. Your presence was enough for him, your smile made all of his problems go away. Your tender words were the medicine for his broken and beaten up heart, every last bit of self hatred went away with you. There was nothing else he wanted.
Until he realized that maybe, he could have the life he had always wanted.
When you announced you were expecting, Leon couldn’t show his happiness at first. He was scared. Hell, he even had to take a deep breath before telling you something. He never had a father, well he had one but his memories are too foggy. He grew up thinking kids were a mistake and that somehow, he was a mistake, too. 
He found himself slipping into the unborn baby's room when you were asleep. Watching how both of you have decorated the space where your little one will be welcomed. His fingers grazed over the white crib, already imagining what his daughter would look like. He likes to think he looks like his own mother, a blurry memory of her blonde hair swaying with the wind. His daughter will have a better life than his. He's going to fight for it.
His eyes would travel over your body. He knew how anatomy worked but watching it before his eyes was so extraordinary. Your little miracle was safely tucked inside of your belly. He has always known you were beautiful but damn – it seems that motherhood suits you a little too well. He was grateful, really grateful. You gave him the opportunity to indulge in the normal and domestic kind of life. 
“She's already asleep.” Your sweet voice called him, bringing him back to the present. While he was reminiscing about the past, the baby had already fallen asleep. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she breathed softly. Her tiny fingers still gripping his shirt.
“She's so lazy.” Leon whispered, his voice filled with softness and lighthearted teasing. He gently laid her on the couch, making sure to place some pillows around her in case she moved. A welcomed and soothing silence surrounded your still not decorated room. This was the perfect opportunity to start your Christmas task.
“You know… Now you can help me put up the countless decorations we have in these boxes.” You chuckled as you placed your hand on Leon’s cheek, your thumb grazing against the growing stubble. You loved moments like this where the only thing that lingered in the air was normalcy and harmony, no missions, no worries, just a happy family. 
“I’ll help you if you promise you won’t judge my artistic side.” His lips turned into a sly smirk before he pressed soft kisses against your lips. A sweet yet sincere demonstration of love. He always worries he’s not enough. You play your role as wife and mother, so he ought to be the best husband and father he can be while also balancing his job life. No bioweapon could compare with the fear of losing his own little family because of himself.
Time seems to fly when you’re surrounded with love, Leon lives by that saying. You both decided to put up the tree first since that’s the most arduous task to complete. It takes you almost an hour between placing the ornaments in the correct place and Leon being scolded because he can’t match colors even if his life depended on it. 
“Now big boy, you gotta put the star at the top.” You crossed your arms as Leon placed the last ornament on the tree. It wasn’t the best tree, especially since Leon didn’t give any artistic advice on his side. Some colors looked rather odd combined with others, but Leon thought it was abstract.
Almost inaudible babblings made you turn around and found your baby already awake. She was playing by herself, her hands reaching for the ceiling. You had to admit it – she was sometimes an angel. She easily entertained herself and barely cried. 
You reached for her and walked toward the tree. Now her fingers tried to grab the Christmas ornaments. The colors reflecting on her blue eyes – that she got from Leon. By the way she kept babbling nonsense it almost looked like she was talking.
“Huh? Right I told your mom that too but she didn’t like the idea.” Leon acted like he understood what the little one was saying. And she also engaged in the conversation, two people against your own ideas.
For a few minutes, you focused on your daughter and how amazed she seems to be with everything. In her own world, that tree was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.
But out of nowhere, both of you looked back at Leon who was sniffing and gently sobbing in front of the tree.
“Sorry, sorry…” He chuckled before wiping away some of the tears that continued falling without stopping. He then waved his hand dismissively, expecting you to drop the subject. Now he had two pairs of eyes intensely looking at him, yours and your baby’s.
After a short while of him trying to keep his tears of joy at bay, he eventually spoke once again.
“Thank you. For… For this.” A gentle smile formed in his face as he opened his arms. You wasted no time to welcome the hug. Now, the three of you were in front of the Christmas tree. The babbling, the sobs, and the soothing music in the background formed a domestic and warm scene. Full of love, emotions, and devotion. His thank you conveyed so much more than just merely words of gratitude. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for believing in me, and thank you for marrying me and thank you for giving me the family I never had. He wanted to say those things, but he remained silent. He knew you would understand the meaning behind his simple thank you.
He would have never expected something like this. He had always thought he was doomed from the start. That his life would be about saving others and never being saved. But he was saved, and he will always be saved.
His daughter’s hands reached for his face, her fingers grabbing his cheeks and nose. Leon obliged, moving his face closer. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until her lips moved on her own.
“Dada!”
He will never shut up now.
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monstrifex-art · 9 months
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Howls in the Heights
Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.
Story:
Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.
“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.
I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.
“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.
Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.
“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”
Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.
“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”
“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”
Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…
“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.
“You…”
She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”
“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”
She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.
“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”
A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.
I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.
A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”
A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.
“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”
Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.
Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.
She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”
The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.
“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”
She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.
She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.
Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.
I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.
Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”
She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?
“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.
“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”
That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.
“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”
“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”
I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.
“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.
She was beautiful.
She was so beautiful it hurt.
I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.
The case would have to go on a little while longer.
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sadesluvr · 5 months
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"Santa, Baby" - A Mike Schmidt blurb
After years of hating the holidays, Mike gets a Christmas miracle.
A/N: Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays everyone! 🎄✨ This is just me writing a silly little blurb bc I’m sad yet obsessed with the idea of spending the season with Mike and Abby. They deserve the world :’)
Set in the 2000’s like the movie.
Word count: 463
Tags: FLUFF / GN! Reader / Not much really / Mike gets to be happy for once
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Mike couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed Christmas. It was no secret that it was difficult for him, working a minimum wage job with two mouths to feed didn’t leave much room for luxury dinners or fancy gifts, but it didn’t mean they didn’t try. They always put up a tree, a few decorations, and Abby got at least one present…Other than that, they spent the actual day watching whatever was on TV and listening to the radio. Then, he was usually back to work in a few days.
He hated not being able to give Abby the holiday she deserved. It killed him to think that the kids at her school would talk about all the cool things they got, whilst she got barely anything. 
He couldn’t even remember the last time he received a present. 
This Christmas was different. It was his first with you, someone who happened to have money at your disposal. Ever since you'd visited their house, you’d made efforts to turn it into a home - replacing the curtains, buying a new fridge - even spoiling Abby with art lessons. At first, Mike had been hesitant; but he saw the way that Abby smiled just a bit brighter, and the way slept just a bit easier, and slowly gave into the idea of being spoiled.
“Open it!” You buzzed, Santa hat bobbing slightly as you handed a large box to him, Abby engrossed in her new toy, but glancing up briefly to watch the interaction. Mike raised an eyebrow, blushing even at the idea of having a gift. Slowly, he tore off the wrapping paper, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he realised what it was.
“It’s a PS2!” you buzzed happily. “I remember you talking to me about how much you loved to game and had an NES when you were a teenager…I know memories of that time aren’t the best, but maybe you can make new ones..?”
Mike felt the tears well in his eyes, clenching his jaw as he trembled. 
You’d listened to him. Not only had you listened, but you’d remembered. You’d cared enough to go out of your way and get something that connected his past and present, when you could’ve just as easily got a cashmere sweater.
He felt twelve years old again; wasting hours in front of a tiny TV, shoving popcorn into his mouth as a gamed. His mom never understood the appeal.
With shaky hands, he looked up at you. You’d even bought him a game alongside it.
Smiling, you felt your heart break just a little, but you could see that he was practically screaming thank you. 
“Go ahead,” you smiled, watching as Abby rushed over to admire Mike’s new gift. “I’ll watch the food,”
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ofmdlovelyletters · 2 months
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💌 Welcome to OFMD Lovely Letters! 💌
This blog is intended to be a space that celebrates Our Flag Means Death and its incredible fandom. While the show may have been canceled, its impact continues. There are still more stories to tell, more art to draw, more gif sets and edits to create. There will still be cons and meet ups. There will still be new fans discovering the show every day. There will still be friendships to be made, and existing friendships will continue to grow stronger.
In short, this fandom isn't going anywhere. 
But right now we’re all at various stages of being mentally devastated, and as a wise captain once said, the best thing we can do is talk it through as a crew. That’s where OFMD Lovely Letters comes in. 
How does it work?
Ask Box: Is there someone you think deserves a lovely letter? Someone who really makes you smile, who makes your time in this fandom better? Maybe they’ve written a story that makes your heart sing, or made a shitpost that you’re still laughing about days later, or they’ve been a really good friend to you when you’re in your blanket fort era. Maybe they’re a blorbo from your notes and you just feel good seeing their URL all the time. Use the ask box (on or off anon) to send them a lovely letter. We’ll tag them when we post the note in hopes it’ll give them a smile. And if you see the post in the wild, interact with it! Shower that person with more love and remind them that you’re happy they’re here. 
Submission Box: Is there a post you’ve written or that you’ve seen on your dash that you think would help improve the general vibe around here? Submit it via the submission box. We’ll be looking for posts that celebrate fandom (specifically OFMD) and the positive impact it’s had on people’s lives.
Please note: all messages will be moderated. We want this to be a safe space ship for everybody. 
Our hope is this blog will be an avenue to spread love and positivity throughout the fandom, through these lovely letters as well as some low-pressure events we’re planning for the future. If you have any ideas, please don’t hesitate to reach out. 
Long may we roam. 💕
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kingdomoftyto · 10 months
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I'm crying laughing, the DVDs are even worse than I remember... Season 1's menus are silent with a single static jpg of the same key character art they use for everything else, and the episodes on the Season 2 discs don't even match what's listed on the box! Absolutely stunning lack of shits given. Truly unparalleled. But I really shouldn't be surprised given... well... everything about how this series has been treated since the very beginning.
Time for a quick ~✨PHANDOM HISTORY LESSON✨~ to give newer/less hyperfixated folks more context for why the graphic novel being as great as it is is such a HUGE deal:
Danny Phantom was one of Nickelodeon's MAIN cartoons, in its time. It was a central pillar. One of the top three or four of their lineup, which is saying something when the competition includes the cultural juggernaut that is Spongebob.
Despite this, and despite its superhero theming making it perfectly marketable, it got basically ZERO official merch.
What little we did get was often ugly and very, very cheap. The dedication at the start of the graphic novel that jokes about collecting the Burger King toys? That's because it was some of the most notable merch the franchise EVER had. (I sadly do not have any of it. There was no BK in my hometown. Here's a pic from the internet, though, to give you an idea.)
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If you think I'm exaggerating about that being the most significant physical merch to come out of the series, consider that the first video game had an entire menu option specifically for the Burger King promotional tie-in:
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That video game, by the way, was one of only two ever based on the show. The first was an adaptation of "The Ultimate Enemy" in the style of a short sidescrolling beat-em-up, and the second was themed around "Urban Jungle" and (as far as I can tell--I've only played the first couple levels) was an arcade-style scrolling shooter. Both were for the Gameboy Advance, and both are...... fine, as far as cash-grabby video game tie-ins to kids' shows go. This was pretty normal for the time, so I suppose we did okay in that department, actually. They're not GOOD, but they're playable and have at least a bit of effort put into them.
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But besides those two video games (plus a handful of simple, long-defunct Flash games on nick.com)? In the decade and a half since the show ended?
Nothing.
No books, no games, no comics, no web shorts--unless you count mega-crossovers with every other Nicktoon (a la Nicktoons Unite), or soulless promotional material like "Fairly Odd Phantom" (which, trust me, despite being the first new DP animation in over 10 years was not even worth the effort of watching).
...I think there was a limited edition FunkoPop once?
So yeah.
A Glitch in Time is not just the first cool, well-made thing we've seen from the franchise in a while. It's the first THING we've seen since the show. PERIOD. And arguably the first worthwhile supplementary material to EVER come out of the show, depending on how you feel about those GBA games and the Nicktoons crossovers.
This franchise is widely beloved even now, almost 20 years after it first aired, and it feels like that fact is now, finally, FINALLY getting some official recognition.
PLEASE read A Glitch in Time. Tell other people about it. The series--no, the fans--deserve this (and more of this, if the folks in charge see enough of a response and decide to grace us with any followup). It's LONG overdue, but better late than never.
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hollyhomburg · 5 months
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I haven’t had an idea about hybrids in a long long time but 🥺 what about pup hybrid koo who gets abandoned by his owners for being too high energy, who waits by the door every day for them to come back, doesn’t like to talk to other humans because they’re not his owner but then slowly, the volunteer who comes into his room to talk to him every day and eat his meals with him and feed him treats starts to chip away at his heart and adopts him.
only to have him wake up Literally lying on top of them, deal with him breaking out of the house and following them to work, everywhere- jk is just so worried about being left behind again but! It’s a good thing his owner is really understanding and doesn’t mind that he’s a clingy little puppy.
And of course Doberman! jk is also still covered with tattoos just like irl jk 🥺 big floppy ears hanging over his face, the breed and tattoos usually turn people off from adopting him because Dobermans you know- they’re /protection/ dogs, they don’t see jks wide terrified eyes hidden behind his big ears. They just see the tattoos and piercings and walk the other way. Im imagining the first time jk ever falls asleep on the m/c, head on her lap, her fingers rubbing against the spot on the back of them where they’re sensitive and tingly saying to herself “at least he didn’t doc your ears, I would have expected- given the other /modifications/ he made to you, that he’d have done that. At least he had the decency to leave them alone”
And she asks cuz of course she does, why jks old owner covered him with tattoo’s and maybe she should have waited until he was more awake but jk just says “liked to come with hyung to work, saved his best designs for me”
Maybe years later they have a run in with Jks old owner and it’s one of the other boys, tattoo artist yoongi maybe? but 🥺 jk finally gets his closure because he finds out yoongi didn’t abandon him he just got into an accident and was in a coma for 6 months and then had 18 months of re-learning how to walk after that. How to do art, how to tattoo again and yoongis finally back on his feet. Even when he was in a wheelchair yoongi never stopped going to different shelters to try and find Jk. Yoongi never gave up looking for his pup 🥺
Imagine tattoo artist yoongi with arms full of pretty floral tattoos in the same style as the ones on jk’s arm 🥺 and the m/c once again questions him about it and jk gives her the honest answer of “I asked for them”
Maybe jk is now faced with the horrible choice of being the one who leaves his new owner who he loves a lot and going back to the person who he once missed more than anything! Of course his little pup brain just comes up with the simple solution! They both just have to move in together to look after him! That way he gets both!! And only- the m/c and yoongi are really opposites- but they decide to try and make being roommates work if only because jk deserves it.
And maybe yoongi starts taking care of her too because he always did let jungkook depend on him lots 🥺 for cooking and brushing out his long fluffy hair and showers after boxing class. And yoongi fusses because around her work schedule she forgets to eat a bunch and he ends up going to drop off lunches because honestly- the tatto shop kinda runs it’s self since namjoon and taehyung took over during yoongis accident- they never met jk because they only bought into the business after yoongis accident when he had to sell off half of it to cover his medical bills (I’m picturing calico mini- a new addition, who took over jks job of checking people in for their appointments and answering the phone)
But anyway back to yoongi and his babying It’s natural for him to say “up!” To her (a total accident he swears) when she’s wearing a soaked shirt after coming in from the rain, blushing hard, but kinda grinning when she follows obediently. Because jk always liked it when yoongi would dress him 🥺 hyungs perfect little puppy doll all pliant and good. And it would be okay if only she didn’t slip up too! Accidentally calling yoongi a good boy on more than one occasion or going in for a “good pup kiss” cuz jk is like- kinda a kissy puppy, likes good morning kisses and thank you for putting your dishes away and “I missed you cuz you just peed kisses and I was worried a monster was gonna eat you in the bathroom” kisses. Jk has them both very well trained.
Of course he’d tease her endlessly for that. “Maybe we should get you a pair of puppy ears for Halloween if you’re gonna listen to me the way that jk does” “yeah? I’ll get you a pair of kitty ears and tatto whiskers on you in your sleep” only what if one day yoongi reveals he actually does have whisker tattoos they’re just black light 😭
Only why don’t they kiss each other the way they give him good boy kisses 🥺 why don’t they cuddle each other like they cuddle him??? Why don’t they good hands the way they hold hands with him when he goes out so that they don’t get lost! Jk has to remedy this right away 😠 he can’t loose either of them ever again so he’s gotta set them up!!!
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lastoneout · 7 months
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Okay, honest question, who is Yotsuba?
OH HO HO ANON I AM ALL TOO HAPPY TO EXPLAIN :3
Yotsuba is a character from the greatest manga ever made, Yotsuba&!(or Yotsuba to! it translates weird, most fans just call it Yotsuba) which is a comedy slice-of-life manga about Yotsuba Koiwai, a five year old girl, and her very strange yet wholesome family and friends!
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It's from the same mangaka who gave us Azumanga Daioh, though while that manga is told in a four-panel comic style and doesn't really have much of an overarching plot, Youtsuba is done in a traditional manga style and despite also being very episodic there is a bit of a throughline surrounding Youtsuba getting settled into the neighborhood she just moved to, growing up, and eventually, in the later chapters, getting ready to go to school for the first time. Also, there are storylines that take place over multiple chapters as well! Despite the fact that the manga has been releasing since 2003, the chapters are pretty sporadic and the comic has only really covered about one year of the character's lives, but it never really feels slow or aimless. It feels almost...timeless? I guess. It's really nice.
Anyway, the manga is legit one of the most wholesome, funny, heartwarming things I have ever read. Kiyohiko Azuma is a fucking MASTER of comedy(you may have seen screencaps from a Sailor Moon fan comic he made going around on tumblr in which Jupiter accidentally sends Venus shooting across a pool that made me laugh so hard I cried) and he balances it well with lots of slow moments with GORGEOUS artwork where you can really take in the scenery and all of it is seeped in a wonderful nostalgia for childhood that legit makes me super emotional.
I don't think the manga has ever really taken off in terms of popularity, at least not to the degree that it deserves imo, which is likely in part due to the creator being firm about it never getting an anime adaptation and the sporadic release schedule, but it's far from unknown. There's been an official(I think??) score released and plenty of figurines and merch. It's also birthed a lot of memes, and it def has the same issue as One Piece where if you read it and love it you will turn into a walking billboard and try to drag your friends and family in with you. It's just THAT good!
You may have seen art of or people cosplaying Danbo, a "robot" made of old cardboard boxes that Yotsuba adores (Totally a real robot btw, def doesn't have a middle schooler shoved inside there, that would be silly wdym /s)
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And this pose from the back of one of the manga volumes featuring Yotsuba, her father, and their extremely tall friend Jumbo has been redrawn with other characters like 500000 billion times
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And you've also probably seen this going around tumblr before (that's Fūka she's my favorite cringe fail daughter I would literally die for her).
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Also, I would be doing a disservice if I didn't mention Yanda, who is a friend of Yotsuba's dad and also Yotsuba's nemesis. He's a loser who constantly gets dunked on by a toddler it's fucking hilarious.
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But yeah it really is just like, a manga that feels like a hug, or a warm blanket or something, it's so comforting and funny and fantastic, I find myself re-reading it any time life gets to be too hard just bcs it's that good at distracting me and reminding me that live is worth living.
And also given that it's literally my favorite manga, I saved up a bunch of screencaps to use as reaction images after a read one time, and thus now it's my own little joke that if you send me anon hate I'm just gonna send you back a picture of this cutie
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Bcs come on how can you be angry when you're looking at this???
Anyway here's some screencaps of the main supporting cast bcs I love all of them so much <3
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YOU WILL READ YOTSUBA I AM NO LONGER ASKING
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drdemonprince · 7 months
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This is an incredible read. It's like Ozy took every annoyed rant I and numerous detractors of Conflict is Not Abuse have made while gathered around our kitchen tables with friends and actually formed it into a coherent take-down. I've been waiting for someone to write this for years and I'm so grateful I didn't have to do it, that someone else did it far better.
Ultimately, Conflict Is Not Abuse is the among the purest works of victim mindset I have ever read. It just has different ideas than normal people about what makes you a victim. Someone physically attacking you and breaking your bones, for example, doesn’t make you a victim. Schulman wants to reserve that status for people who have truly suffered, such as: People whose phone calls were not returned. People who got in Twitter discourse, but whose interlocutor didn’t want to meet up in person to talk about it. People who were broken up with even though they didn’t consent to being broken up with. People who have provided an extremely convincing argument about why they deserve to be friends with someone, and yet that person still doesn’t want to be friends with them. People who hit on someone who claims not to be attracted to them, even though they totally were, bro. People who were rejected romantically without even the opportunity to stand outside a window holding a boom box that’s playing In Your Eyes. People who have been cruelly iced out just because they broke someone’s bone which is, clearly, not that bad in the grand scheme of things. Ironically, this entire line of argumentation is a great example of how thinking of yourself as a victim causes you to harm or abuse others. Maybe it’s performance art.
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sukifoof-art · 7 months
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Hi, I really liked your art and all and was a fan of you, until you started posting things about supporting a state which is controlled by a terrorist organization that doesn’t care about their own civilians and when any donations come there it doesn’t go to the people who need it but to Hamas, and by donating to Gaza not only do you not help the people in Gaza ,but you also help a terrorist organization who doesn’t care who it needs to kill in order to achieve its goal.
Also when I saw you reposted a post who supported the people in the picture’s with all PLO flags (which weren’t the main problem there) ,it seriously hurt me to see that one picture where people were stepping on USA flags and Israel flags. like….why would you support someone who obviously hate you(assuming you’re from the USA) but even if you aren’t from the USA then think about the fact that you’re LGBTQ, these people HATE people who are Queer and kills them ,so I really can’t understand how are you supporting people who want you dead and are against feminism.
I really hope that what I wrote helped you see this complex situation more clearly and I beg you to look at the situation from both sides.
so this means everyone there deserves to die? this means that a whole school year of children needs to be wiped out? that hospitals must be bombed and millions displaced and communication be cut off? that every palestinian must pay with their lives? that every closeted queer palestinian should die? are you seriously that dense. i made it clear i do not want people who support a genocide following me. have you bothered reading palestinian voices from queering the map? those who regret not saying they were in love and dont even have the chance anymore because thousands are dying? i genuinely don't know what to say to you to make you realize these are real, actual people who are dead. you speak of palestinians as if they're a monolith and not real individual people who had thoughts and dreams. none of these people deserved to die, even if they hate people like me. people can change and learn and grow and they weren't even given the chance. i am so sick of seeing fellow queer people SUPPORT GENOCIDE because they can't be bothered to think about others and their experiences for more than two seconds. of all the queer experiences i've read this is one of the most heartbreaking, and it's from gaza.
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do NOT act like queer people and their families aren't being harmed and DO NOT come into my ask box supporting ethnic cleansing. there is never any reason for thousands of people to live in fear of airstrikes and white phosphorous, or to be stuck beneath rubble and in hospitals that don't even have power. if the idea of THOUSANDS DYING wasn't enough to upset you, there are so many videos of parents mourning their children, children mourning their parents, children and pets shaking in fear for me to not have explain to you that genocide is bad. there is NEVER any reason to JUSTIFY GENOCIDE. that should be clear enough. again, if you are complicit or try to justify genocide, do not follow me and DO NOT try to make me "see the situation from both sides". to be so privileged that you can sit here and write out paragraphs supporting genocide says enough about you.
if you see this i am begging you to contact your government, just do anything you can. even just spreading the word helps because palestine can't. the most important thing is to not give up hope. mourn the dead, and fight like hell for the living.
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bitchesgetriches · 2 years
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On food and groceries:
How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss
Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic
If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You
You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid
You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.
On entertainment and socializing:
The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend
7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment
Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date
The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There
Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!
What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?
You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s
On health:
How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke
Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money
Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics
Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership
On other big expenses:
Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question
Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague
Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke
You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel
3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income)
When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans
The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years
Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”
The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It
On buying secondhand and trading:
Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand
I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online
The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade
On giving gifts and charitable donations:
How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?
In Defense of Shameless Regifting
Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities
The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum
How to Spot a Charitable Scam
Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?
On resisting temptation:
How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements
Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake
The Magically Frugal Power of Patience
6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending
On minimalism and buying less:
Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool
Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse
Slay Your Financial Vampires
The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending
On saving money:
How To Start Small by Saving Small
Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal
The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges
Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead
From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings
Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”
The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess
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fandom-friday · 5 months
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The goal of Fandom Friday: provide a place where people can shout-out their favorite creators from the week, whether it’s a piece of fan art that made you smile or a fanfic that moved you. Drop a link to your favorite creations this week into my ask box along with what you loved about it, and I will give them a shout! It doesn’t have to be Star Wars either! If it’s on another website (AO3, Twitter, etc.), please be sure to state that as well.
This happens each week, so don’t feel like you’ve got to get out everything in one week. Just keep track of them throughout the week or send me an ask whenever you find something, and I’ll drop them all on Fridays (or throughout the weekend if I get a lot). The cutoff for each week is THURSDAY 12 PM (I’m in the Pacific timezone). Anything received after that will roll to the next week. A summary of the weeks’ recs will be posted at the end of the weekly queue, so check back here for all of the awesome fics and art! And be sure to go give the creations on that list some love (and don’t just share the ask responses I put out).
2024 Fandom Friday Weekly Summary Master List
Rules and additional details under the cut! PLEASE make sure you read the rules before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.
Rules:
Please send submissions to my ask box (sending them all to one place makes wrangling them easier each week). In your ask, please include the creator’s handle, a link to their work/post (if links aren’t working for the ask, please DM me them), and what you loved about it!
Please ensure the link is to the creator’s original post and not your own reblog or repost of their work (if they’re on another platform). The idea is to drive people to visit the creator’s page!
The creation does not have to have been posted this week! It can be something older. Also, don’t worry about whether or not a rec is a repeat from a prior week. Just looking to celebrate things that made an impression on you this week, whether you’ve seen it before or not!
NSFW is alright! Just make sure you note it in the ask so I can flag appropriately! Since I’m including 18+ material, minors may not participate. 18+ posts will be tagged with NSFT/lemon/lemony lemon (trying to cover all my bases).
NO incest, underage, cl*necest blogs, master/padawan (or similar power dynamics), dub-con/non-con/rape occurring IN the fic (to include stalker/obsessive behavior fics). Also, no H*rry Potter. There are a few others that I also won’t share due to my discomfort with them (i.e., R*xsoka), so if you’re not sure, ask. Also, many of you submit multiple works at once, and that’s fine, but if one of those works contains something that violates the rules, I will delete the entire ask, so something to be extra careful about when submitting!
Submissions that deal with 18+ material or difficult/triggering topics (pregnancy, abuse, drug use, etc.) MUST BE TAGGED APPROPRIATELY.
If your rec involves spoilers from a show that’s currently running, please include that info in the ask so I can tag it appropriately (I will normally tag a few different ways, but I always use #<show title> spoilers if you need to filter (for example: Andor spoilers will be tagged #Andor Spoilers). I will stop tagging spoilers two weeks after the show stops airing.
You can submit GIF sets or edits, but please ensure you are submitting from the blog that actually created them. Wanted to add that caution since there’s been a lot of people stealing/reposting GIFs and edits in particular recently. So just be cautious.
Try to avoid commentary in your ask that might make others feel bad (“the only person who knows how to write XXX correctly…”). It’s important to be able to appreciate creators without making others feel bad, so let’s try to keep the commentary complimentary without being off-putting for other creators.
Self recommendations are allowed and encouraged! Shout out your own hard work! You deserve the recognition!
*Rules subject to change so PLEASE make sure you read them before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.
**If you have any questions about any of the rules, don’t hesitate to DM me!In addition to sending me asks, I highly encourage you to go either leave a comment on and/or reblog someone’s work (tag me or use the #Fandom Friday tag if you do!). Let’s get the interaction back up on this website and show the creators that work so hard on their stuff some love!
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divine-donna · 16 days
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your desire
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got inspired, so here's something for steven grant. because i love awkward autistic oscar isaac.
pairing: steven grant x gender neutral! reader
for vibes: "venus" by bananarama
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you were in london for a phd program. you wanted to pursue a doctorate in art history and work with repatriation. after all, every place deserved their stuff back.
especially from the british museum.
you lived in a simple flat across from the sweetest man you've ever met: steven grant.
now, aside from how tired he was and the sometimes weird things you'd wake up to coming from his apartment, he was a good neighbor.
at one point, he even helped you unlocked your door after you had left your keys in the apartment. you rushed to get out of the apartment as fast as possible and came back near 1am without your keys.
"i didn't even know i could do that." is what he said when he successfully gets your door open. you were sure he was joking. he was being genuine.
the dating scene in london wasn't...well, the state of dating was bad in general. especially considering that half of the world literally disappeared and then came back, including your own brother. your father died thinking he was dead permanently, leaving you with a soft spot and a desire to pursue a fulfilling relationship.
why wait if you might die tomorrow? there was always another world ending event around the corner.
perhaps developing a crush on your attractive neighbor was not the way to go.
none of the people you went out with had steven's smile. had his curls. had his smile. had his nose. had his little information dumps that you adored.
but from the interactions you guys had, it seemed the destiny might be platonic. which hurt your soft, romantic heart.
you were about to retire for the night since you had class the next day. that's when you heard mumbling outside your door. peeking through the peephole, you can see the man looked downtrodden. he was holding some flowers and a box of chocolates.
you opening the door surprises him. he nearly jumps out of his skin. "(y/n)!"
"hey." you lean against the doorway and cross your arms over your chest. you were wearing some comfortable lounging clothes: a tank top and some fuzzy pants with hello kitty designs. "everything okay?"
"huh? yeah. i mean..." he purses his lips and sighs. "got stood up on a date." again.
you understood all too well. you lost count of how many dates you went on and they just didn't show up. not even a text to tell you they weren't coming, or to ask for a rain check. wasting your time. and being general dicks.
the state of dating was not it.
"i'm sorry. i'm sure there was a reason." perhaps there was. perhaps there wasn't. there was no point in thinking about it.
"yeah. well, good night!" even when upset, there was still a pep in his voice.
watching him pull out his keys made you feel...sad. you didn't want him to spend time alone.
"how about you come in for a cup of tea? that way you don't have to eat the chocolates alone."
steven turns around. there's a sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, making you melt.
"i'd like that. a lot."
you move aside to let him in and close the door behind you. he removes his shoes, setting them on the side and you take his jacket to hang it up.
steven sits at one of the seats at the kitchen island, watching you pull out your kettle and fill it with water, before placing it on a burner. you adjusted the flame to a medium.
"you want some cake? i have some left. it's lavender lemon." you ask, pulling out two mugs. you love the way his face perks up. one of them was a mug from the gift shop with an egyptology theme.
"i think i'll be fine. but it's kind of you to offer."
"okay. what about tea?"
"do you have chamomile? kind of...basic but..." he would like a sleep aid.
you don't say anything. you just smile at him and grab the box from your cabinet. you place a bag in each much, discarding the proper trash. "so...you wanna talk about it?"
steven spends the next few minutes talking about his feelings. it felt good for him to unload and vent just a little bit. he held no ill will towards his date. just some frustration about how his romantic life has hit a brick wall. something was always getting in the way of him pursuing a relationship. something was always happening. he was always screwing up. perhaps he was the problem.
in the middle, your kettle was screeching. so you turned off the burner and poured it into the mugs, letting the tea steep.
you can't help but relate. with all the people who stood you up, you wonder if you are the problem. were you that unlovable, that undatable, that people can't even tell you they weren't coming?
steven stops talking when he notices the way you're looking at him: with intensity. you look like you want to tell him something. "what is it?"
"what? you can keep going."
"you want to say something. your lip is twitching." he gestures. he takes a sip of his tea.
"well...i don't know if..."
"go on. you can say it."
you take a sip of tea before looking at him. "it's not your fault. none of it is."
steven's smile is sad. "you don't have to say that."
"i mean it. steven...i know it feels like it is. hell, i relate a lot. sometimes it feels like you're the problem because no one else wants you. but it's not your fault. i think you're...pretty cool. and amazing."
he blinks slowly, almost like a cat. he's busy just looking at you, admiring your features. your beauty. and your warmth. not many people would invite people over just to vent.
"it's all good to vent. but i also think it's important to...think of it as redirection. like my dating life sucks but my studies are going well. and i'm going to be published."
"r-really?" he watches you walk over to the record and set your mug down. you look through the vinyls and pick one.
"yeah. academically too. so i get academic validation. which isn't everything, but it's certainly nice." it was important to get your work out there. you turn the player on, place the disk, and then drop the needle.
your body movies instinctively. you recognize the synth beat, picking up your mug and moving your hips. "this was my dad's. he really like british 80s synthpop." you turn to steven and take a sip of your tea.
he was trying his best not to stare, not to watch the way your hips moved. it was mesmerizing. he wasn't one for dancing. he was not the best at following a rhythm.
you dance over to him and gently take his hand. "come on steven."
"i don't think so." he sees your pout. "okay, okay."
he gets off the stool and lets you guide him to the middle of the room.
your hips move. your body is unchoreographed. you weren't really a dancer. but you can't help yourself. you spins a few times, bathing in the casualty of it all. and unknowingly bathing in steven's love filled gaze.
you look deep into his eyes. his soft brown eyes. and your eyes glance down to look at his lips. his soft looking kissable lips.
could you be bold? could you make a move? was it appropriate to make a move? you take a sip of her tea and sets the mug down. "steven..." you bites her lip as the music keeps playing.
"y-yes (y/n)?" he could feel his cheeks warm up. especially as you step closer. your bodies are nearly touching.
you gently cup his face with one hand and pull him by his waist so his body is against yours. you could feel your own body against his. it was quite arousing.
you leans forward and kiss him softly, pulling away for a second only to kiss him again.
"i like you." you mutter against his lips.
steven doesn't know what to do. he's hesitant. because you want him. and maybe he wants you. but do you really want him? was it just the heat of the tea? or the music?
"you...you like...me?" surely there were better men. better people.
your eyes soften. "yes. i do. i like you. i like you a lot steven." the music appears to fade to a soft lull. your heart beats in your ears. perhaps you made a mistake.
"i know this is sudden. and maybe it's inappropriate considering that...you just got stood up and i invited you in my home and it seems weird and terrible honestly. and if you don't like me back that's fine. you can just tell me and i'll stop and you can go..." you begin rambling nervously. your mouth runs faster than you could comprehend.
he has to set his mug of tea down.
you stop talking when he presses a finger against your lips. he feels how soft they are. and is tempted to trace your lips with his finger. "don't...don't you dare stop."
your lips curled into a smile and he removes his finger to kiss you. his hands rest on your hips, trying to bring your bodies closer.
a small moan escapes you, feeling him grind up against you. his kisses are fervent, as if he's trying to taste you.
your back hits the edge of the tv stand, causing you to giggle. you let him kiss you, parting your lips so his tongue slides in. they dance for what feels like an eternity.
you manage to pull away and turn around so he's against the tv stand. then you tug him along, heading straight for your bedroom.
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