#our dads

[b99reblogstuff]

STEPH!! 😂 Where is the lie though..

@youngsamberg

#our dads #holt and Kevin #b99 #Brooklyn nine nine #Brooklyn 99 #ig story #stephanie beatriz

[lvckyuh]

The Brooklyn 99 Dad’s

+ flats, close ups and one I didn’t like so it’s here

#kevin cozner #raymond holt #b99 #b99 fanart #my art #brooklyn 99 #andre braugher #marc evan jackson #our dads #i love them so much #also there’s this san junipero fic I love

[ditzybat]

tim with a knife in his hands: damian, step away from the computer

damian reading superbat fanfiction on tim’s personal laptop: i wanted to play roblox, but this is adequate writing, are you in need of a beta reader by chance?

#damian: i made art as well #tim: i don’t know how i feel about you drawing mild nudity of our dad and his friends #damian; grow a pair - a bicep is not nudity - and besides you wrote it #dc #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #clark kent #red robin #robin #batman #superman #batfam #batbros #superbat

[bizarrelittlemew]

He succeeded 🥹

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #ofmdedit #ofmdsource #ofmd gifs #ida.stuff #ofmd 2x8 #stede bonnet #this gifset made me a lil emotional ngl #it's like mom and dad sending their kids off to college

[mylordshesacactus]

So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE--”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.

#gay pirate plate #GOD i wish I had a picture #y'all are not prepared for the gay pirate plate #anyway we don't think my dad should have to miss out on our hijinks #we think he would much prefer to be alive to witness the nonsense #than for us to morbidly wait until he dies to begin the third generation of Gay Pirate Plate

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school. #like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it. #was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes. #but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create'' #when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent. #speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice. #''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession. #''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt? #u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky'' #we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:

There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’

like wow babe. good fucking point

#like you were on the ground biting the carpet and dry sobbing while you wrote that and still. good fucking point #not a shitpost #cptsd #and it's true. there's never a satisfying answer #the truth is i know why i wasn't loved #i analyzed my parent's traumas and abuse to death. i understand why i alienated and was alienated from my siblings #i know why my mom was too overwhelmed to be capable of nurturing #i know why my dad vanished into addiction and avoidance #the details of our cycles of trauma and cptsd and family history i have a phd in all of it #i understood perfectly. i spent years studying and now i knew the answer #and guess what? IT WAS NOT SATISFYING!!! #because they still didn't love me! and i still couldn't change that! #it was still a completely unsatisfying state of affairs! #so like. when the people who are supposed to love you...don't. #when the people who are supposed to take care of you...fail to #you can look for answers and reasons and explanations #but that's not actually going to FIX your situation. #and it's probably not within your ability TO fix the situation. (and definitely not your job) #because you don't need answers--you need a new situation #*inserts Just Walk Out. You Can Leave!!! (Running Skeleton) Meme* #and yes. walking out isn't always possible. #but for you i hope it will be one day soon. and i hope you build the courage to take that leap. #stepping away from the people who failed to love you...it feels like being untethered but also like being lighter than air #new and scary. immensely relieving. the future opens up. empty but empty like a canvas. blindingly bright until your eyes adjust #like climbing out of a pit you called home and for the first time realizing how bright the light of day can truly be #when you aren't just getting glimpses from the bottom of a hole

[raziraphale]

Tag your age if you wanna bc I was just thinking about how I have used floppy disks before (I'm 25 and used them in elementary computer lab) but my 22 y.o. brother hasn't which is so weird to me like 3 years isn't a long time at all to me

#I'm wondering if im an outlier in the 25 year old demographic bc i remember bringing my floppy disk home from 2nd grade #and my dad laughing and being like our computer doesn't even have a drive for it anymore #like we didn't HAVE to use them at home bc obviously not everyone had a home computer #but it was a kind of 'if you have a computer bring this to your parents and they can demonstrate how it works!' #'look how you can take your files home isn't tech amazing!' #but i just learned that the school had old computers lol #polls #reilly.txt

[hgedits]

And I'm alone! Talk to Pete. Don't be like me.

#ofmdedit #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #I love when they allude to stede just being Someone's Deadbeat Dad

[fidisart]

"I love you... I love you." "I know... I know that."

Omg they were co-captains 🥹

#fidisart #artists on tumblr #my art #fanart #ofmd fan art #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #ed teach #stede bonnet #gentlebeard #edward x stede #blackbonnet #🥹🥹🥹 #my dads are so in love #they’re so disney-coded #I’m terminally ill with the pirate disease

[uncanny-tranny]

Little things adults and older people can do to help younger people and children feel included, safe, and respected as an equal individual:

Ask before touching the young person - even for hugs. Ask before you take pictures of them, and let them see photographs of them before they are printed or sent to others (even family).

Apologize when you are wrong

Ask for a young persons thoughts on a subject, then engage with them after they have spoken

Demonstrate behaviour you want to see from them (see: apologizing). Say "excuse me," say "thank you," say "please" to them

Validate their feelings, even if they don't know how to express them just yet

Remember that this is the first time they've been alive, and that you've had way longer to "figure it out"

These are some things I wish other adults remembered when engaging with young folks. We so often forget what childhood felt like and how unfair it all was because we were often awarded freedoms as adults that we never had as children. These kids are equal to adults, and they deserve the same courtesy, respect, kindness, and understanding we give to other adults.

#youth liberation #the first point was something i had SO many struggles with #i would have breakdowns because i was scared my picture would be taken without my consent then shared to others #i took a picture of my younger brother with his permission and i let him decide if i could send it to our dad... #...because it felt so scary when people did that without my consent and i would NEVER want him to ever EVER feel that because of ME... #...and it turned out that we had a really positive engagement and he was happy and excited with the picture! because he was informed! #and i think that made him really happy and brought us closer because he felt safe because he knew he was respected as a human being #that stays in my head a lot. i want him to never ever feel how i did as a child. he is such a cool kid :)

[temeyes]

nibble (photo ref here!!)

#like father like son (they salivate too much) #like if dad!ghost lives a silly life.. dad!soap lives a very VERY chaotic one #his son is a MENACE (just like him LOL) #first few years of his fatherhood is like wtf?? and his spouse is like “bitch our kid's EXACTLY LIKE YOU???” #ok im very tired from cleaning all day gonna turn in early babes mwaHHHH #my art #2024 #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare #call of duty: modern warfare ii #call of duty: modern warfare iii #cod #cod mw #cod mwii #cod mwiii #modern warfare #mw #mw2 #mw3 #soap cod #soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #dad!soap #art #fanart #digital art #digital drawing #sketch #doodle #video games

[souredfigs]

I swear to fucking God every Ao3 author lives in fucking Gotham or something

#NO BECUASE THEY HAVE THE WILDEST REASONS FOR NOT UPDATING #ALWAYS #like once i read an update that went like “hey guys sorry for not uploading my dad turned out to be involved in a criminal gang ” #and another one that read “sorry for not uploading i was in prison for five years but im back now!🥰” #ITS INSANE #ao3 #archive of our own #but nonetheless #slay anyway

[5queerducksinatrenchcoat]

one of my favorite things about star trek is how the two biggest garashir shippers are the guys who fucken played garashir

#our beloved garashir dads #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #julian bashir #elim garak #ds9 julian #ds9 garak #garashir #alexander siddig #siddig el fadil #andrew robinson #andy robinson

[bet-on-me-13]

Trigons Backup Plan

So! Trigon knew from the moment his Daughter was taken in by the Monks of Azarath that it would be difficult to turn her to his will. He wasn't stupid, he knew just how hard it would be to make his daughter turn on everything she has ever known in her (very short) life.

He can't really blame her, even he believed that indiscriminate mass murder was wrong until his mid-200's, he just needs to wait for her to grow out of it.

But until then he still needs a way into the DC Universe. And if his daughter wouldn't help, then he could always just make a 2nd one.

So, he searches and eventually finds a Couple of Scientists who seem to be good targets. They are researching Magic and Ghosts, so he makes a Demonic Pact with them. He will give them the secrets needed to complete their Research, and in exchange all he asks is that they help him bare a child.

They agree, and Danny Fenton is born.

Danny was supposed to become a Hellmouth when he turned 16, unlocking his Demonic Powers and opening the way for Trigon to enter the DC Universe so he could conquer it.

Instead he managed to get himself killed at 14. Then he managed to come back to life as a Halfa, he got himself adopted by Clockwork, and he usurped the Throne of the Infinite Realms in the span of 1 year, therefore putting himself on the same level as his Father on the cosmic scale.

So there goes his Backup Plan.

Dammit.

...

Meanwhile Raven is panicking. She had been messing around with her Friends when they asked about the Spells she could do, and she off-handedly mentioned that she could cast Family Tracking Spells.

One thing led to another, and they all wanted to know if they had secret family. Then they asked if she wanted to try as well, and for some reason she agreed.

And long story short, she has a little brother somehow. A little brother who is only a few weeks away from turning 16, who doesn't know the Azarathian Spells she learned to prevent his own transformation into a Hellmouth.

Oh shit...

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Trigon #Raven #Rachel Roth #Trigon knew that Raven would probably reject him #So he had a 2nd child in secret #Danny was supposed to unlock his powers and let Trigon into their dimension at 16 #But even Demon's aren't immune to Fenton Luck and he ended up dying and coming back as a Halfa #And not only that he overthrew Pariah Dark #Meaning Trigon can't even use him as a Portal anymore #Raven wants to find her little brother to save him #She doesn't know that the problem is solved already #Neither does Danny #“Hey mom and dad who is that Demon looking guy in our old family photos?” #“Oh that's just your Demon Dad! He gave us knowledge in exchange for a chance to have a son! And that's you!” #“What!?” #“If that's surprising just wait till you see Jazz's secret Parent!”

[queeraspirates]

#our flag means death #ofmd #david jenkins #thanks dad #taika waititi #rhys darby