#worst tree ever invented

[skyward-floored]

Half a tree fell over in the backyard earlier this week so my dad’s been chopping it up and moving it to our stick pile and I was helping him today but. The tree was blooming when it fell and I’m allergic to the flowers so now I feel gross

#he does too actually we’re both just blehhghh #rambles from the floor #Bradford pears I hate youuuuuu #worst tree ever invented #it’s got dumb weak roots and branches and flowers that smell like dead fish #and ours has murder thorns on it too #it’s only saving grace is that the flowers are sorta pretty. but that’s it #not sorry to see half of it topple over 😤

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Winter of 1975

Prompt Day 2: Winter Themed Sentence Starters | Word Count: 1200 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mentions of Childhood Trauma, Innuendo | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Softness, Steve POV

"Did I ever tell you about the winter of '75?" Eddie asks, curling up on the couch next to Steve, tucking his feet under him.

Steve shakes his head no, at least he doesn't think so. Or if he has, Eddie didn't word it like that.

"When you were ten?" Steve asks. 

Eddie nods, "When I was ten. My mom had died, you know, earlier that year. And my dad, well, you know."

Steve nods. He knows. He stretches his arm out, and lets Eddie curl into him.

"Well, Uncle Wayne was bound and determined to make it a good Christmas. It wasn't possible, not really, but he was gonna try his best."

Steve smiles, that sounds like Wayne. If there's anything Steve knows, it's that Wayne Munson loves Eddie. 

"Well, he took me sledding. I broke my arm. He bought a real tree. I was allergic to pine. We made hot cocoa on the stove, and I dropped it, nearly scalding my feet. Just, you know, everything that could go wrong, did. It's the Munson way," Eddie says, with a laugh. 

Steve kisses him on the head, and tries to remember what the Christmas of 1975 looked like for him. He imagines he got all the toys he wanted, and his parents hosted parties in their house that he wasn't invited to attend. Sitting on the second floor, little hands gripping the slats of the railing, just hoping to get a glimpse of what was going on, down below. Hoping to see his parents, for just a few minutes. The usual.

Those nights were always the worst. As soon as he got home from school, they'd feed him an early dinner and send him straight up to bed. And then the activity started downstairs, without him. He wonders now, as an adult, why they didn't just invite some kids? They could have still been corralled upstairs, away from the party, but he wouldn't have been all alone. Even if it was just Tommy H. That would have gone a long way to making them tolerable.

Eddie continues talking, "But Uncle Wayne kept trying. He bought me a Pet Rock," Eddie says, with a laugh. "I begged for it in the store, and it cost four dollars. He bought it and handed it over, and I opened the box. And it was a rock."

Steve laughs, he had one, too. Everybody did, he's pretty sure.

"Well, the name was pretty clear about what it was," Steve says.

"I know. I just wanted it to be something else, I guess. Something a little more lively. It was just a rock. Whoever invented that was a genius. Think of all the money they made. For rocks."

Steve smiles at him.

"But, Uncle Wayne just bought me some paints, and brushes, and told me to make it whatever I wanted it to be then."

Eddie smiles, "So I did. I gave it eyes, and some hair, and it looked a little goofy. But it had some personality."

"Like you," Steve says, hugging Eddie closer. 

Eddie just rolls his eyes, "Anyway. I loved it after that. But, I still had paint, so Uncle Wayne got me a sketchbook. And I started drawing, and then painting what I'd drawn. Like my own coloring book, but filled with everything I liked, and nothing for little babies," Eddie says, laughing. "The fridge was full of weird shit that was coming out of my brain."

Steve nods. Weird shit is still coming out of Eddie's mind, and he loves it all. Every last thing. He might not understand it all, but he likes that Eddie is curious about the world around him. That he has opinions. Strong opinions, sometimes, sure. Even wrong opinions in Steve's mind. But opinions. Eddie wants to talk about the things that run through his mind, and Steve wants him to, always willing to listen.

"Anyway. I learned to draw. To paint. To love art, because of that Pet Rock. I designed all my own tattoos. I did the Hellfire logo. It gave me an outlet I didn't know I needed or wanted."

Steve kisses his bare shoulder, hoping he'll continue. He loves to hear him talk. 

"Well, all that said," Eddie says, pulling a wrapped box out from under the coffee table, and handing it to Steve. 

It's not Christmas, not yet.

"It's not Christmas yet," Steve argues.

"It's not a Christmas present," Eddie says.

"The wrapping paper says otherwise," Steve teases, and Eddie laughs, pinching his side. It is wrapped in red, with a heavy fabric bow that there's no way Eddie did.

"Who wrapped this?" Steve follows up, needing to know. Because it damn well wasn't Eddie.

"Excuse you? You don't think I could wrap this?" Eddie asks, acting very affronted by this accusation.

Steve just raises one eyebrow.

"Erica did," Eddie mutters, "just open it."

So, Steve opens it, carefully. And when he pulls back the tissue paper, it's a painting of the two of them. From a million years ago. Walking through the forest. But it's not dark, and red, like it really was that night. Here, it's lush and green, with the sun shining overhead, casting gorgeous shadows all through the trees. 

It's stunning. 

Steve meets Eddie's eyes, "It's beautiful."

"Well, it's only beautiful because you are," Eddie says, and Steve blushes. Just a little. Even after all these years.

"When did you have time to do this?" Steve asks, because he definitely hasn't seen Eddie working on a canvas lately. He'd have noticed that. The mess alone. The mugs of dirty, paint stained water. The countertop lined with drying brushes.

He's seen no evidence of any of that. 

Eddie smiles, "I did it at Wayne's. During our Sunday morning breakfasts. We talked while I painted. And yes, I cleaned up my own messes," Eddie says, dryly.

Steve just smiles at him.

"It's really good, Eddie. Really, really good. You could do this, if you wanted to. For a living."

Eddie just laughs, "We definitely don't have the luxury of me painting with the hopes that I'll sell some of them. And that's okay. Maybe someday," Eddie says.

Steve knows he's right. They aren't exactly rolling in money, but maybe someday they'll be better off, and Eddie will be able to just stay home, doing something he loves. Wouldn't that be something?

"You know, I do have other ideas of things to paint…" Eddie trails off, and the glint in his eye means he's definitely up to no good.

"Oh lord, what?" Steve asks, suspicious of that look in his eye.

"How do you feel about posing nude for me?" Eddie asks, giving him the eyes.

Steve barks out a laugh. Sure. He'll pose nude for Eddie. It's not like he's shy or anything. Eddie has definitely seen it all before.

He only has one question.

"What are you gonna do with it once you're done?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrow, imploring for the truth.

Eddie just grins, that evil grin of his, and Steve shakes his head. Oh well. He definitely knew what he was getting into once he decided to spend his life with Eddie Munson. 

Notes: Pet Rocks were, in fact, all the rage for the Christmas of '75. A the guy who made them made, like, a million dollars. 🪨 💰

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my tag right here!

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #christmas fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas #artist eddie munson

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 3

Danny would guess they'd gone about 20 miles by the time he'd stopped. They were well within Siren Territory by then, not that that was any comfort, considering the source of most of the trouble in the last six months, but distance was distance. Thankfully, none of his usual enemies bothered to rear their heads, likely licking their wounds from their last encounters.

In a tiny cave blocked off by kelp and coral, Danny leaned back against a wall and caught his breath. Damian had been silent for most of the swim, which was a small blessing. It let Danny think; think about what happens next. The tiny siren loosened himself from Danny's arms, and did a few cursory flaps of his fins.

"Where have you been taking me?" Damian mumbled.

"Around. Can't exactly double back to Amity right now." He hoped Bruce Wayne was an accepting man. He'd adopted kids from all manner of backrounds, but that didn''t help the same nagging uncertainty that plagued him whenever he thought about his own parents. If he'd just doomed Damian to a life without his father, he didn't know if he could live with himself.

Damian floated to the other side of the cave, his eyes on Danny the whole time, arms crossed in a scowling expression.

"And then?"

"I don't know. I give you back to your dad? I wasn't exactly planning out every step earlier."

"Then what were you thinking?" Damian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Do you suggest I return to the public, to school looking like this? I can hardly breathe over water, let alone walk."

"I don't know! I just..." Danny poked his finger webbing. "I've been doing this for six months. And the whole time, even if it was hard and painful, I never lost someone. No one ever, well." Danny swallowed thickly.

Damian huffed. "You are a poor excuse of a hero."

"I failed you, there's no denying it. I was too late, and I let you drown. I'm sorry. There was no other way, I swear."

Danny looked up to Damian again, but the smaller boy looked away, his expression unreadable. "Take me back."

Yeah, that wasp probably the best he could do for Damian now. Bruce Wayne was probably having the mother of all freakouts, and if Damian never wanted to see Danny again, then that was fine. He was sure the world's richest man would be able to accommodate Damian's needs just fine. Rich people were weird like that.

It took some begrudging glares, but Damian at least allowed Danny to take his hand and use his much better swimming skills, but Damian didn't look very happy about it. Then again, today was probably the worst day in the kid's life.

They were approaching the island at rapid pace, its lustrous palm trees swaying in the distance, a promise of stability, and safety at last.

Motors hummed in the water. Danny's blood froze. Immediately he submerged and ducked near the sea floor.

"What is this delay for? Let me see." Damian pushed against Danny's hand, but the older boy kept firm.

"Patrol boats. Dozens of them. And they're all on high alert. And they've got Fenton tech. Shit."

"Can't you swim past them?"

Danny sputtered. What was this kid thinking? He wasn't some god of the sea! "I can't fight thirty boats by myself! They're gonna skewer us both!"

"What about your camouflage?"

"That would've worked a couple months ago, but these guys have got Fenton Sonars."

Damian did a double take. "The Fentons? You mean the town crackpots?"

Ouch, his parents were a little obsessed, but they definitely weren't crazy. Not anymore. "The town siren hunters. And yeah maybe Jack's not great at hunting, but their inventions work. I've got a scar or two to prove it."

"My father is on that island." Damian growled. "You have to do something."

"But it's not your dad on those boats, is it?" Danny furrowed his brow. "Those guys don't see you as human, or even sentient. They think you're another monster to be studied."

"No thanks to you." Damian challenged.

Danny growled back. "I was saving you! And now you wanna be un-saved?"

They glared into each other's eyes. Danny should really feel bad about squaring up to this literal child, but man was he difficult not to get annoyed at. Deep breaths, Danny, deep breaths. This was going to be more difficult than he imagined.

Damian glared at Phantom, the supposed siren superhero of Amity Park. He wanted to scream, to yell and to cut something open, preferably Phantom, if he weren't his only ticket home, and if only he had his weapons on him.

Such a loss of composure would be beneath him, so he remained stubbornly defiant.

As much as he wished for it not to be the case, Phantom was in all likelihood correct. This horrid, horrid body was new to him. Dozens, no, hundreds of foreign sensations flared from every part of his person, each impulse sending his body wobbling in new, unexpected directions. He would never get through the blockade on his own, which killed half of his initial plans. These blasted sonars killed the other half.

Damian grit his teeth. "Fine." He said, despite the embarrassment welling up at having to admit defeat. "But this conversation is not over."

"I bet." Phantom said, the infuriating cur.

By Damian's estimates, it should have been around midnight when Phantom stopped. They took refuge underneath a larger cave, filled with sparse furniture, a rug and some tables, with dark green curtains over the entrance. Small glowing jellyfish provided faint light. It seemed like the hopelessly domestic scene Jonathan would enjoy.

Damian slithered (He didn't crawl or shuffle. He was too dignified) into the corner of the cave, where he assumed a defensive position and poured all his seething hatred into glaring at Phantom.

"Welcome to Casa de Phantom! Or at least one of them. I've got a couple hideouts here and there. I'd say 'make yourself at home,' but I guess you beat me to the punch." Phantom said with a laugh. How dare he!

Damian hissed. "Tt. I am taking advantage of the opportunity for respite while taking necessary precaution against a rogue element."

"A rogue element? I don't know if you're serious or just pulling my tailfin."

"Do not test me, Phantom."

"Right. Look, I'm gonna go get us some food, so just stay put or something or other. I won't be long and then we can talk about where we go next. Oh, and don't touch anything!"

Damian growled at him again for good measure. Phantom exited the cave in short order, leaving Damian with ample opportunity for investigation. He wouldn't be a Robin if he didn't seize this opportunity.

Damian uncoiled himself and pulled his body along the soft sand. The grains tickled and pricked at his scales. The tables held a number of different gadgets and tools. Human clothes like t-shirts, a few vests and belts were scattered around. The bench held various strange devices, like a glowing blue lipstick, and a thermos of all things. Damian knocked on the thermos, the clanging sound confirming it was hollow. The most incriminating detail of all, however, was the distinctive F logo branded onto the side of each and every device.

How does a siren with no legs acquire so many inventions from siren hunters? He supposes they really are better siren hunting inventors than proper fighters. It was a miracle Jack Fenton hadn't drowned by now, considering how he conducted himself in a fight.

The thermos was lightweight, its metal settling gently against his webbed hands. Videos of Phantom's exploits have been scarce, and grainy, showing very few useable details. Various buttons and lights adorned the thermos, showing it was no ordinary soup holder.

Damian popped the cap off. The thermos' interior contained a circular mechanism of some kind. "What in the world?" Surely this could not be a weapon. The cylindrical design and lack of handholds would have made it too unwieldy. The kickback from any shot would throw off the wielder's aim every time. As Damian peered and tried to get a closer look, his finger slipped on one of the buttons. Blast.

The thermos whined. Its interior glowed blindingly bright. Before Damian could react, a blue beam engulfed his body. Damian felt his body warp and compress into a tiny space, before his vision went dark.

Damian awoke, vision blurry and head pounding. Phantom's smug face floated above him.

"And that's why I told you not to touch anything."

Damian shook off the grogginess and sat up, almost colliding with Phantom's face. "What manner of trap was that? Were you attempting to disfigure me once again for your sick pleasure?! En garde!"

Damian was no good swimmer in this form, but it was easy to launch himself off the floor and into Phantom. Phantom, for his part, didn't sit idly like the last time. He raised his arm and blocked off Damian's access to his neck, a shame, but that did not stop Damian sinking his teeth into Phantom's flesh.

That is, if he could actually penetrate his skin.

Damian blinked in shock. Sirens were supposed to have razor sharp teeth. He'd seen those fangs in Phantom's own mouth. He should be drawing blood right now, but as he was he was barely denting Phantom's scales.

Phantom laughed, as if it just tickled. "Dude, I literally let you out of the thermos. It's not a 'trAP to diSFiguRe yOu fOR mY sIcK PleaSuRe,' it's just a containment device for sirens. Also can you stop that please, it tickles."

Damian flung himself off of Phantom's arm, retreating back into his corner. "How have I not drawn blood?! This is madness!" Damian sucked in breaths through his gills, an endlessly foreign and vulnerating sensation. "The only useful thing about this body was supposed to be its natural offensive capabilities, yet it is unable to achieve even that!"

"Siren kids just have blunter claws and teeth. Youngblood's the same."

"Do not call me a child!"

"Your claws will grow in over time, it's just the nature of things."

"You say that as if you will not return me to my true human form."

Phantom shifted uncomfortably.

Damian pressed. "Well?"

"Yeah about that..."

"Do not tell me you have no way to reverse it!"

Phantom's look of guilt sealed it. Damian's heart sank. Goodbye Robin, goodbye previous life. All his hard work and sacrifice for naught. Phantom had saved him from death by drowning, but suddenly Damian felt as if he were better off dead anyway.

Tears built up. What was happening to him? He hadn't cried since he was five years old, a show of weakness that grandfather had beaten out of him. Then again, he was really one year old back then, artificially grown to a competent age.

"H-hey, d-don't cry or anything, I was just-"

"I am not crying!" Damian shouted. He turned away from Phantom and stuffed his face into his tail, praying somehow the tears would go away on their own. He was Damian Wayne, son of Batman and daughter of Talia Al Ghul, there was no such thing as crying for him, none at all. There had been nothing, absolutely nothing he had been unable to overcome. He was going to overcome this, no matter what. These things he knew.

Why had this feeling not abated?

There had to be a solution, there just had to be. There had to be some kind of surgery that could split his tail into legs again. No that was absurd, what kind of quack surgeon can completely alter someone's species? Perhaps magic instead? Normally he hated the involvement of magic, but if it was the only way. Perhaps Zatara could assist, or he could pawn something off to that Constantine. But nothing ever good happened from associating with that man. Or maybe Aquaman would have a solution, someone well versed in oceanic magic, except Aquaman's claim of being king of the ocean was doubtful considering the siren attacks that lead him and Father to this forsaken resort town in the first place. What if... What if....

Damian felt lightheaded.

A weight pressed on Damian's body. Warm scales against his own, their individual texture segmented, but smooth, like a kind of weighted blanket. A hand laid on his shoulder. Damian remembered where he was, remembered to perform the mental exercises Father had taught him.

Slowly, his breathing evened out. His fins steadied into a gentle lull. Damian's eyelids felt heavy. His chest vibrated in a strange rhythm he couldn't place...

Suddenly the weight disappeared, and Damian blinked himself awake. Phantom retreated a sociable distance away, looking sheepish.

"Sorry, about touching you without your consent, I just saw you were hyperventilating, and I remembered a few classes about this stuff, and I watched that film too, Puss in Boots 2, it was great and-"

"Do sirens watch human media often?" Damian said. He gripped his tail, something solid to keep him anchored.

Phantom seemed to freeze for a moment. "Uhm well, maybe they do! just because we're sirens doesn't mean we're uncultured!"

Damian would have loved to pick this information apart, scan it for weaknesses until he knew this person in and out, but at this moment, he simply sat and let it settle underneath the shame of expressing similar, or even more weakness.

"Speak of this to anyone, and I will have your head."

"Yeah that would be a dick move, so if I ever did that, feel free to take it."

#dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #damian wayne #merman #merboy #angst #dcxdp #mermaid au #mermaid transformation #transformation #transformation angst #damian does a little biting #he smol tho #teef too blunt #panick attack??? #i hope i dont fuck this up xD

[messers-moony]

SONG ONE: WELCOME TO NEW YORK | T.D

Pairing: Husband!Tim Drake-Wayne X Wife!Reader

Summary: Tim plans a surprise trip to New York City, its better than he could've ever imagined.

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: Apart of my new series! The Track list of 1989 (Taylor’s Version) used for imagines of Tim Drake! The master list for this series should be posted soon!

Her hands shook. The ground beneath her trembled due to turbulence. A steady weight of polyester was around her waist, keeping her in place. The plastic tray in front of her stumbled slightly. Her computer screen was trembling slightly. 

Beside her, the sound of clicking was like white noise. He hadn’t stopped since they boarded the jet an hour ago. Star Labs in Central City had invented a new device that Wayne Enterprises was interested in partnering with. Tim had insisted that they fly to Star Labs the next day to discuss details. 

She had rolled her eyes but woke up at eight in the morning anyway. 

The computer in front of her held documents for the fundraising event in Park Row. Jason had suggested they do something small for the kids living in the area. Neither of them had protested. Y/n had begun planning different things to bring up to Jason when they landed in Gotham. It was small things like libraries, small housing units, better convenience stores, and possibly, as a more extensive improvement, a school. 

Her heart was whole. She closed the laptop and let it click shut. Her hands loosened the seatbelt slightly, and leaned her head on Tim’s shoulder. He recognized the motion by turning to kiss her hair. She hummed and closed her eyes, lulled asleep by the plane's rumbling. 

It didn’t feel much longer before Tim shook her awake, “Wake up, we’re here.”

“Mmmm,” She hummed. 

He chuckled, “Come on, wake up.”

Y/n stretched off his shoulder and rubbed her eyes. The laptop was gone in front of her, and her bag was zipped up in front of her. The sun was setting outside the jet window. She went to grab her bag before a hand stopped her, “You won’t need that, come on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me?” 

His smile could’ve stopped the earth from turning. It was close-lipped, and yet it made her heart flutter every time. Tim’s face was soft and kind. It always had been, even through his worst moments. He held himself together like an artist molding clay. He carefully carved every piece of himself together and showed only what he wanted to let others see. 

She could see through it where a tiny mark of imperfection covered every smooth mark. Where someone had molded it too many times, and it became too tender. Where the colors had changed into different ones from trying to cover up past mistakes. 

Tim walked out of the seat and held his hand out for her. She placed her hand in his cold, soft one and allowed him to lead her. He led her to the exit and climbed down the stairs. She followed behind. The air was dry, frigid, and cold. Thankfully, she had a hoodie, sweatpants, and beanie from when they got onto the plane. The dress and heels had been uncomfortable. 

He was dressed similarly. He was wearing an old Bludhaven University sweatshirt stolen from Dick. His sweatpants were an old pair of his, the faded Gotham Academy logo on the top left of the pant leg. Jason’s hand me down converse on his feet and almost falling apart. He wouldn’t throw them away. His grey beanie from Bruce when he had gotten cold as Robin. Yet on his left hand, on his ring finger, held his most prized possession. His wedding ring with the girl he’d love until he died, and he would make sure it wouldn’t be anytime soon. 

“Tim, this is not Gotham.”

He rolled his eyes, “Brilliant observation, Einstein.”

“Where are we?”

“New York!” He exclaimed happily, eyes sparkling, “I thought maybe we could use the night and day tomorrow just to relax.”

“There’s so much stuff to do during December in New York!” Tim continued, “We could go see the Rockefeller Christmas tree, or we could go see the Dukes Heights Holiday lights, or visit the Bank of America Winter Village at Bryant Park-“

She placed her freezing hands on his cheeks, “It sounds lovely, Tim. Thank you.”

He was putty in her hands, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Tim brushed a piece of hair from her face. His hand lingered behind her ear, and he gently pulled her closer. His lips brushed hers before pulling her closer. Y/n hummed and kissed him back. Tim’s lips were soft and so gentle. They always had a faint taste of mint from his chapstick. He pulled away, “What’re we doing wasting our time up here? Come on, we gotta go.”

Y/n chuckled, and that’s when she realized how far up they were. The jet had landed on a helipad far up in the air. She looked at the view and saw the Empire State Building and the smaller buildings beneath them. Under her feet was an illuminating sign that read Wayne Enterprises. Tim’s hand reached for hers before pulling them down the stairs and into the elevator. 

He pulled her to his chest. Her ear rested over his heartbeat. His hand rubbed her back and the other on her waist while they descended the building. It took minutes because people stopped to enter and exit through their trip to the bottom. Some made small talk with Tim, surprised to see him in the New York office. He had smiled politely and contributed to the small talk. 

They reached the bottom and walked out of the elevator to the outside of the building. There was snow fluttering around them. Some landed on their beanies and the tops of their shoulders. Their hands stayed connected as they walked through the city together. Christmas lights lit up the city at almost every corner, and the ground was covered in little specks of white. 

The night could only be described as magical. They roamed through the city. For once, having nothing on the agenda, just spending time with each other. No interruptions, no patrol, no training, and no people waiting to kill them. It was a smooth night. She could feel her eyes sometimes and see the flash of cameras, but it didn’t bother her this time. She felt proud. 

Because, yes, she was spending the day with her husband in New York City, and nothing could stop that. Not nasty paparazzi, not fangirled crushing on her husband, not the girls that giggled at her as they passed, and definitely not the older adults that glared as they talked too loud. Her heart was content. 

Tim swore he had never had so much fun in his life since chasing Robin and Batman around in the dirtiest parts of Gotham. There was nothing that made his heart feel as complete as the heavy camera in his hands watching Batman kick butt and Robins quips. But right here, right now, his heart felt even more full. His wife a steady weight beside him, her laugh boisterous and beautiful, the flecks of snow in her hair, the tip of her nose turning red. He wanted to marry her all over again. 

They spent the night in absolute bliss. The lights illuminated her face, and he wished he had his camera. However, he knew this memory was too precious to keep in a photograph. He loved photography, but he knew its limits. It could capture a moment, but it could never capture the absolute love in this moment. 

He saw something in the corner of his eyes. His heart sped up with the meaning of it. Purposefully, he led her that way, and she stumbled when he stopped, “Tim, why’d you stop?”

“Look up.”

Her face turned red, “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Tim wished he could bottle the feeling up and keep it for whenever he wanted, “I love you, and I want to kiss you under the mistletoe.”

“Timothy,” Y/n scolded playfully, “You’re a dork.”

He grinned, “Your dork.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that.” She quipped before pecking his lips. 

Tim watched her pull away, “Nope, not enough.”

He pulled her back tightly. His lips planted on hers, and he let himself have this moment. They weren’t one for public displays of affection, but he wanted this. He wanted it so bad. His tongue swiped her bottom lip, and she allowed it. His body went warm and soft. He could stay in this city forever. He’d leave Gotham forever if it meant feeling this every day. If it meant he wouldn’t have to feel the stress, the pressure, the anxiety. He’d do it in a heartbeat. 

They pulled apart. Her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, and her eyes sparkling. His pupils were blown large, lips slightly parted, and his nose pink. At that moment, they felt a flash of light. Tim chuckled, and she rolled her eyes playfully. He turned to the man with the camera, “How much will it cost to get that picture emailed?”

#tim drake x you #tim drake wayne #tim drake x reader #Tim drake #dc #dc imagines #dcu #robin x reader #batman #dc comics #dc imagine #dc universe #batfam #red robin #red robin x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #Taylor swift

[i-am-beckyu]

One Small Gift

HELLO! I TOLD YOU I'D POST ONE MORE FIC THIS YEAR! And I am very proud of myself for making it a Christmas centered fic! I can't believe it's actually been a year since I last posted a Christmas fic. Like where did the time go and how did this thing spawn?

I'm gonna ramble a bit more at the bottom of this fic about me and the community but lets not hold you up any longer so I give you: The Christmas Fic- One Small Gift :3

cw: fear, death mention (but no actual death), lying, panic and anxiety, fluff- Like, ALOT of Fluff, hidden identity and of course happy endings. You know, the usual angst/fluffy Beckyu fic :3 word count: 8351

Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Cold

Why did the walls always have to be so damn cold? 

Tommy’s mind couldn’t help but linger on the thought, as the Borrower shivered making his way through the maze that was the inside the house walls.

Human Beans invented heaters AGES ago for the insides of their houses to keep warm, so how was it that the inside of the walls were still always so flippen freezing? 

Would it kill them to think of the little guy freezing their butt off just once?

Well no, maybe not. But it certainly would Tommy. 

As much as the young blonde would love to cuss at the home owner for not giving him a proper source of heat, the Borrowers code quite literally FORBID them from ever telling a Human of their existence. Not to forget the fact that it would mean doom for a borrower if they ever did. All the horror stories of Borrowers being squished or experimented on from the elders to go off being proof enough.

Death by Human Beans?

HA! Absolutely NOT!

That’s exactly the reason why he is trying to get supplies for the Winter to warm himself up, before it gets even colder! 

Tommy grumbled to himself as he ducked and weaved past forgotten cobwebs about how it was such a pain to be in this position in the first place. He’d had a perfectly fine home in a tree nook in the forest that had always remained nice and cosy warm during the colder months. 

Even if that meant he’d been living on his own, Tommy had been happy living as an Outie borrower for as long as he could remember. Well at least he had, before some tall, pretentious brunette freak decided his home would be the perfect tree to cut down and drag all the way back to his stupid freezing cold house. 

But it gets better, because even though the main part of his home was actually still intact under the now stump, the Bean still took the top half of the tree- 

With Tommy still inside it! 

They flippen took HIS house and wrapped it in a net; effectively trapping the poor borrower and then strapped it to the top of their car and drove hours and hours to a Human Town with him hanging on for dear life.

And that’s not even the worst part because not only did the flippen Bean steal part of his house, but then they had the audacity to cover the tree's dying corpse in fancy decorations and shining lights. 

Like seriously WTF?!

A Bean kidnaps him from the only place he’s ever really known and covers his once thriving residence all merrily in ornaments, while he’s forced to flee his only real known place of safety with nothing but the clothes on his back, and the few supplies he did have stored in the upper levels of his now dying home. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but it was the only choice he really had. 

Stay in the tree and get caught, or try and survive in the Beans' walls until Winter passes.

He chose the latter of course- (It’s not like staying would have helped him anyways) 

Getting down from the top of the tree had been, well- less than a fun time for the Borrower. The big purple bruises across his back were a throbbing reminder from his impact on the floor at times, but he managed. 

Instead, Tommy had started to navigate his temporary ‘soon to be home’ in the walls getting an idea of the layout and where the best places were to borrow from. He just had to make it through the Winter and then he could go home. Trying to get back to his nook now would be impossible with all the snow cover on the ground, but he’d get back to the forest even if it killed him.

Which might be the case soon if he doesn’t get some new clothes and heat source quick.

That was the main issue with being kidnapped after all. You only have what’s on your back and well, Tommy hadn’t exactly been expecting to get yoinked away in his scrappy T-Shirt and shorts. He had proudly made them himself with the few scraps of fabric he’d managed to find from some Beans that had been passing through years ago on a camping trip, but the fabric was light, and not made to be worn in such cold conditions. 

He’d only meant to go up and check what the heck the loud thumping outside his tree was like any normal person. He was expecting a deer or maybe a bear using it as a scratching post, not a Bean cutting their house down and taking him along with it. You don’t exactly have time to think about putting on proper clothing when your everything is at stake.

So that was step one: Find some material and make some clothes- a jacket the top priority.

Tommy is very thankful that he had his borrowing bag on him, that he still has his self made needle and some old thread so he at least didn’t have to start from nothing. Finding the material hadn’t been too difficult to locate either. When he first scouted the place, he discovered pretty quickly that the Bean had a habit of leaving stuff all over the place, so borrowing supplies hadn’t been difficult to do without being noticed. It’s how he found the most perfect fluffy woollen red sock to make a coat and blanket from. He would already have it now though if the Bean hadn’t come back before he could swipe it.

The Borrower had tried to come back for it later, but the Bean had decided it was time to clean their room up because he had some guests coming for this thing called ‘Chris-mass’- whatever that was- and the sock was gone.

So instead he grabbed what he could and made his way back to the walls with just enough fabric to make a new pair of pants and some crackers for dinner.

But it still didn’t fix the whole freezing situation.

What Tommy really needed was a candle. 

To a Human Bean it may seem to be an insignificant source of light, but to a Borrower it could literally be the difference between a warm nights sleep and becoming a Borrower popsicle! But that was easier said then done because all the usual spots Beans would normally keep candles, were replaced with flippen electric ones!!!! 

What’s wrong with fire on candles!? Why would you want a fake candle that just flickers and produces less light than a real one?

That or something for a bed. At least that way he’d have a comfortable place to sleep and trap his own body heat.

He really wishes he could have taken those socks…

As if this Bean wasn’t bad enough, not only did they lack the materials Tommy so desperately needed, but they wouldn’t shut up talking into the black box (a fone he thinks it’s called from memory) to other Beans with how excited they were about them coming to stay for the Hole-lid-days and spend time huddled together by the fire or something dumb. 

“Come on Dad! Let me host. If you let me host, I’ve got the coolest surprise planned for you and Techno I swear!! Plus don’t you want to come and see me?” 

Lucky prick. Got a Dad and a brother…

Now don’t get him wrong, Tommy is a big man, if not the biggest man to ever exist and he doesn’t need anyone. But he also couldn’t help but long for someone to share the cold season with like the Beans did. It had been so long since he’d seen another Borrower like himself and though he’d never admit it, living alone did get a little bit lonely sometimes. It would be nice if just once he could share a night cuddled up close to a loved one, and just bask in each other’s company. 

But Tommy didn’t have time to be sentimental about things he’d likely never have.

He needed to find a way to stay warm and get warm now.

But the universe decidedly hated Tommy because, tonight was apparently December 24th-

Chrisymiss Eve.

Tommy had been here about a week or so and in his short stay still wasn’t 100% sure what this whole Khrislermas was, but it appeared to be a BIG deal to the Beans. 

Apparently, all the Beans get together whether it’s family or friends to spend time together and exchange gifts. It’s about being thankful for what you have or whatever and something about showing how much you love someone by giving and receiving presents. 

Tommy thought it was actually quite a nice thing the Beans did and wished that Borrowers had something similar themselves in their culture. However, there was one thing he still didn’t quite understand about this whole holiday thing.

Who the heck is Santa Claus?

He’d been taking some more crackers the Bean had left out from the kitchen while this ‘tv show’ played on the Bean's big Black box that was talking about this Santa guy. Apparently, he was some elusive, big fat man, dressed all in red with a big white bushy beard, who climbed down the Beans chimneys, and left gifts for all the little boys and girls of the world. He had this list too that knew if you’d been naughty or nice and would leave the good children gifts and the bad children coal in their stockings. 

Children could write letters to Santa or he’d visit and children could sit on his knee and ask him for a gift they would like and he would deliver the toys to children all over the world on Christmas eve when everyone was sleeping, only to have disappeared by daybreak.

Tommy hadn’t thought much of this Santa at first- not when it was just another Bean to avoid. That was until he learned two very important details.

1- Santa delivered presents to ALL children of the world. 

And 2- Santa wasn’t meant to be seen by Humans either.

So not only did this Santa guy literally just give out free gifts, but Tommy literally had a way to get exactly what he needed for the winter!

All he needed to do was talk to Santa and he’d be saved! 

Now you might be thinking: But Tommy, you said it yourself. Santa isn’t meant to be seen by anyone so what makes you the exception? 

Simple.

Borrowers aren’t meant to be seen by Beans and neither is Santa.

Which means just like Borrowers, Santa must not want to be caught (which if he thinks too hard about it makes sense since he literally breaks into houses but anyways) and unlike with Beans, there is no rule that says Borrowers can’t see Santa!

All he has to do is wait for Santa to visit Crystamas eve, and then he can ask for his gift! Santa probably even knows what he wants, being made of magic and all! He just never knew Santa existed so he’s never asked for his gift before! 

If he were a more greedy Borrower, he could ask for so much more to make up for all the years he never got a gift, but that would probably put him on Santa’s naughty list. And while coal would be good, Tommy doesn’t exactly want to burn the house down with him inside it. So this was his best shot to get exactly what he needed. 

The hard bit though, was waiting for Santa to arrive. That meant not only having to be out in the living room where the fireplace was, but also meant he had to wait for the Bean to fall asleep. Which really meant that it would be AGES before Santa would come because the Bean of the house was terrible at sleeping at night. 

The man literally had no sleep schedule and would stay up till terrible times in the morning before drifting off. Normally that wasn’t much of an issue for the Borrower having observed this early on, but right now it was very much a hindrance because it could be hours before they went to bed. 

It also seemed that they wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, because the amount of energy and excitement the Bean had displayed the whole day about his family coming home was overwhelming. He’d come home at one stage with this big bag of stuff talking on the black box about how his super cool surprise was coming along and how it would be awesome since they let him host Chrimpmas- whatever that meant. 

Tommy had hoped with the excitement of the holiday they’d have been ready to pass out by now, but he couldn’t be more wrong with the amount of commotion he could hear from down the hall- and that’s through the walls. 

At least he could observe everything going on from his place on the bookshelf. It was right next to a small crack in the wall he could just squeeze through, but it gave him a good view of the living room but also enough cover from prying eyes unless he made his presence known. However, being out of the walls had one difference the blonde hadn’t accounted for.

Heat.

The fire had been lit and was keeping the whole room nice and toasty warm compared to the harsh bite the walls somehow managed to keep. The whole atmosphere made him almost want to curl up and fall asleep. It had been so long since he’d been able to just enjoy the warmth in the air and not be shivering to keep alive.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt if he had a nap before Santa arrived.

Just a quick one….

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Tommy was awoken to a rather loud THUNK as the Borrower shot up from where he had fallen asleep atop the shelf. 

It took the blonde a moment to realise where he was and not panic about being out in the open before his eyes settled upon a figure. 

Sprawled out across the floor in a heap of red and white was the jolly big man himself.

Santa Claus.

The one and only.

“Santa!” Tommy yelled excitedly as he hurriedly manoeuvred to stand. “Santa you came!”

Santa’s head snapped up from the floor alarmed, as they pushed themselves to stand and take a defensive stance.

“Who said that?!” they shouted, looking around wildly panicked. “Show yourself!”

Tommy giggled to himself. Santa was so silly. 

“Up here Santa! I’ve been waiting for you.” The blonde waved as the man's head turned and their eyes fell onto his small form. 

Tommy grinned at the magical man taking him all in. 

Just like the figure on the big black box, Santa wore a big red coat with white fluff lining the ends of his sleeves. A big black belt was strapped around their waist, fastened with a fancy golden buckle and sturdy black boots on their feet to keep out the snow. Their head was adorned with an oversized big red hat, with a giant white fluffy pom pom on the end, and they had a long white beard that travelled down their chest. And last but not least was a pair of gold rimmed glasses perched on the tip of their rosy red nose which accentuated their big brown eyes that were staring at him in wonder. 

Huh. 

He could have sworn that Santa's eyes were blue.

“I can’t believe you came! I wasn’t sure if you would since I never sent a letter but you must have known anyway cause here you are!” The little borrower stated excitedly as Santa removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. 

“I’m so glad you’re here! I really need my Crimpmess present.” 

“I’m sorry you’re what?” the man’s eyes furrowed in confusion as they processed what the younger had said.

“My present!.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “You know, the whole reason why you’re here.”

Santa didn’t exactly seem like he knew what was going on. Right now all he was doing was staring and Tommy was getting a bit annoyed. 

Was that not why Santa was here? To deliver his present like the show had said?

Tommy huffed annoyed he had to explain all this. Wasn’t this like his job? He should know!

“I’m sorry,” Santa began slowly as if trying to process. “I didn’t actually know you were here.”

“Why else would you have come then?” Tommy crossed his arms unimpressed. “I’m the only kid here, but don’t tell anyone else I said that. I’m a big man! The biggest ever!”

This finally seemed to warrant a different reaction from the older, as they looked the boy up and down unimpressed by this so-called ‘fact’.

“A big man huh? You look more like a child. What are you- 12?”

Tommy feigned a gasp, grasping his chest offendedly. “I’ll have you know I’m 14 and the biggest man alive! I’m only a child for the purpose of getting my gift tonight and tonight only!”

Santa couldn’t stifle a laugh as he watched as the small child stomped his foot in a mini tantrum at being called 12. It was endearing in a way but he still wasn’t sure how to proceed with a tiny child standing on their bookshelf.

“Well whatever you say I guess, but I still I didn’t know you were here.”

The blonde shrugged before moving closer to the shelfs edge. “Ah well it doesn’t matter. You’re here now so I’d like my gift please! You have it right?” 

“If I didn’t know you were here, then how would I have your present with me?” Santa asked.

Well he did make a good point. It’s not like he sent Santa a letter and he hadn't met him to tell him like other human bean children had until now. 

“Oh right. Guess I better come sit on your knee and tell you what I’d like than.” Tommy stated matter of factly, as the small Borrower moved to the edge of the shelf and stabbed his hook into the wood, quickly jumping off to descend on his rope to the ground.

“Wait, DON’T DO THAT!” 

The blonde yelped in surprise, moving instinctually to protect his ears at the sheer volume the man shouted, in turn losing his grip on his rope, quickly plummeting down to the ground below. Santa lunged forward with an outstretched hand as the boy slipped down the rope at a rapid speed, catching him before any real harm could be done. He semi slammed into the wall, clutching his hand to his chest as they did so before quickly unfurling their hand.

“Oh my prime! Kid- kid are you alright?” Santa said frantically checking over the boy he now held in his palm. 

Tommy shook his head, dizzy from the sudden force that had rammed into him only moments ago. He tried to steady himself grabbing, onto the nearest thing his hand could find as he begun to regain his bearings.

Oh he was going to ache tomorrow…

“As soon as the world stops spinning, yeah.”

Santa sighed in relief as Tommy allowed himself to regain focus. It was then that he really took note of where he was. 

Normally, if a Borrower was sitting in the hand of someone almost 100x his size, he would be kicking and screeching to get away. But this was Santa Claus’s hand and Tommy felt only wonder. 

It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The thing he had grabbed onto was apparently Santa’s thumb and it was almost as big as his head! Even if it was a bit weird sitting on the leathery texture of their skin, the warmth radiating beneath him was heavenly, and the way the man’s fingers curled slightly over him protectively felt nothing but comforting. 

Santa hadn’t moved since he caught Tommy mid air, and was staring at Tommy as if they would disappear. They seemed stuck on what to do next, but also amazed he was sitting there at all.

“You alright there big man?” Tommy raised a brow confused at why the man would act this way. Santa was literally made of magic and had flying reindeer for goodness sake! A borrower existing surely was no cause for such amazement? There were surely way more interesting magical things to see than a lowly Borrower like him. 

(But then again, he was a pretty poggers Borrower if he did so say that himself, so staring could be justified for that reason)

This finally snapped the old man out of their wondrous stupor, as they squinted their eyes open and shut with a quick shake of their head. 

“Uh yep. All good um. Let's- go sit down. Yeah- yeah, let's do that.” Santa said, confirming more to themself than Tommy.

Santa brought the boy protectively to their chest to brace them before they moved away from the book shelf, smoothly walking over to the couch where the old man sat down ever so slowly to not jostle their small passenger. The second they were bending down to sit though, Tommy was launching himself off Santa’s palm for his knee as the bearded man frantically tried to stop them in their escapade.

“Kid, would you stop doing that? You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Pfft please. This is nothing compared to how I got down from that tree over there.” The boy grinned as they pointed to the far corner of the living room.

The man's head followed to where the boy was pointing, the Christmas tree displayed proudly in a large pot tied with a red bow, small lights flickering on and off in changing patterns.

“Tree? You mean the Christmas tree?”

“Yep!” Tommy stood proudly popping the p. “I had to get down somehow and my hook would have gotten stuck in amongst the branches if I had tried to abseil down. So I did what any logical Borrower would do and jumped.”

“You jumped?!” Santa’s eyes widened, as he looked back and forth between the boy and the top of the brightly decorated tree. He grimaced, imagining the boy throwing themselves from the upper branches like they had done only moments before onto his knee. 

What was with this kid and being so reckless?!

“You jumped from the top of the Christmas tree!? Why were you even there in the first place?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, crossing their arms in front of their chest. 

“It’s all that stupid Beans fault.”He huffed annoyed. “He just came waltzing into MY forest, decided to be very rude and put their grubby hands all over MY house wrapping it up in some ugly net, only to cut it down with me still in it!”

Tommy didn’t notice the way Santa’s brows furrowed and their expression changed to one of horror as he continued to ramble on.

“They literally kidnapped me, Santa! They’re so lucky that the main part of my house is under the tree’s trunk and not the higher branches because I swear I would have murdered that Bean in their sleep by now if they had!”

Tommy was very pleased to have finally gotten to vent some of his frustrations to someone other than his internal self, but now he was finished he had a good chance to register the other’s reaction.

Santa looked horrified.

His eyes seemed glossed over as if he was holding back tears, and one hand slapped over their mouth, the other gripping their wrist tightly in an attempt to ground themselves. 

Uh shit. He hadn’t meant for that to happen…

“Uh but don’t worry Santa!” Tommy was quick to add. “ I wouldn’t actually do that. That would be a bad thing to do and put me on the Naughty list! I promise I won’t actually murder anyone!” 

Phew, that was a close one. He couldn’t jeopardise his only hope with a silly joke!

Santas’ face had yet to change and Tommy subconsciously started to fidget feeling nervous to how the older was reacting. Maybe he had blown it and now he was on the naughty list. Another glance at the old man's face seemed to confirm those fears.

He’d blown it.

His one shot at survival and he practically threw it all away with a vent. No wonder he ended up all alone.

“Please don’t put me on the Naughty list Santa. I need my gift.” Tommy spoke timidly. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I- no. No you’re not on the Naughty list.” Santa dragged his hands over his eyes a few times strained. “I'm just trying to process. It’s more of the whole kidnapping thing. ” 

If Tommy had been paying better attention, he may have noticed the few stray brown curls poking out from under the man's hat, but he was more thrown by their following question as the magical man continued on.

“If you were in the tree, why didn’t you say anything?”

Tommy drew a deep breath, before sighing as the boy shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Because Santa, Beans aren’t supposed to know that Borrowers like me even exist.”

“Beans?”

“Human Beans Santa. You know, big people like you, but not magical and stuff.” The Borrower explained. “There’s no way I could tell the dumb Bean he was cutting my house down! Do you know what Beans do to Borrowers like me?” 

“Um no?” Santa fiddled with his hands as he looked away, eyes downcast to avoid the youngers gaze as they continued.

“They get rid of us. To them we’re just pests or things to be used.”

Tommy hugged himself tightly, anxiety pooling in his chest for the first time that night. He wished it wasn’t true, but Beans just held far too much power for their own good. Their greed often outweighing their need to do good without reward. 

“I’d rather risk jumping out of a tree than ever fall into the clutches of a Bean.” 

“But how do you know that?” Santa suddenly said, muscles tensing as they clenched their hand into fists. 

Tommy flinched at the sight of hands so close. Closed so tightly that he couldn’t help let slip the thought of himself in the mercy of their grasp, begging to be freed like all the stories had said of the Borrowers trapped in agonising pain. The man noticed his discomfort, and immediately loosened their fists, moving their hands away and under their thighs so as to not startle the boy any further than they already had.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Santa said with a sense of guilt.  “But I just- How do you know that though? Who says that they would have hurt you if you had just made your presence known? You wouldn’t have had to jump or gotten hurt.”

Santa turned away sheepishly, whispering sadly. “They could have helped you.” 

Tommy swallowed hard, his shoulders sagging as he observed the sad look Santa had as they stared at the Christmas tree. It was obvious they were blaming themself for what had happened. He was far too kind for that.

“Santa, it’s not your fault.” the boy sighed, “Every borrower is taught this from birth. It’s a known fact that Beans are all cruel, power hungry beings. They always want more and just take, take, take.”  

“But what if this ‘Bean’ didn’t know.” Santa shot back, causing the Borrower to falter. “What if you had said something? They would have stopped and left you and your house alone? How do you know they wouldn’t have helped you?”

“Because Santa,” Tommy turned and faced the man head on. “That’s just how Beans are. To them, we're just another thing to take and control.” 

Tommy wanted to believe Santa, he really did, but it was hard to just ignore years of being brought up to beware Human Beans and their cruelty. He’d seen it even from when Beans had once come into the forest with their fire sticks, and took down a friendly deer. It was unnecessarily cruel and was all the convincing Tommy needed to deem all Humans bad.

Santa nodded sadly in some kind of understanding, but Tommy couldn’t understand why Santa looked so hurt. It wasn’t his fault the Bean took him and his home, but he seemed so convinced that hiding and not asking for help had been the wrong thing to do. 

He thought they were the same, that if Beans caught him on Christmas Eve, then something bad would happen to him like it would for Borrowers. That’s why they had to stay a secret. Why no one could know they were here. 

But Santa wasn’t a Borrower who lived in hiding unknown. The Beans knew about the jolly, present giving man that only appeared in December. 

He could live among the Beans and it would be fine if he asked for help. Everyone liked Santa. He didn’t take things just to survive. He gave toys and gifts so he would have no worries about the repercussions of taking a paperclip just to get around. He wouldn’t have to worry about Beans hurting him if something went wrong. He would just use his magic and be fine.

It was Santa’s choice to stay hidden as an extra precaution to protect that same magic. 

“But you’re different from the Beans Santa.” The boy perked up instantly remembering why he was doing this in the first place. “You only come out of hiding at Christmas and everyone knows who you are! You only hide to keep your magic safe from Beans so they can’t have that too!” 

The man gave a small smile as the boy continued to ramble, pacing back and forth on his thigh as he did so.

“But I don’t understand why you give children presents when they already have so much!” Tommy stopped, his lips pursed together as his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Unlike me.” He confessed quietly, lifting his head to meet Santa’s sympathetic gaze. 

Santa was staring at the young boy again, leaned forward in concern listening as the blonde  continued to share his story.

“It's why I need my gift Santa.” Tommy wringed his hands together with a nervous glance to see Santa’s reaction who nodded in approval, gesturing for him to continue. 

Tommy steadied himself.

Now or never.

“I was brought here with basically nothing. Forced to move into the Beans walls or risk being seen. I’ve barely been able to get anything for basic survival and the walls are freezing!” 

Tommy shivered remembering the way the air had nipped at his nose as he struggled to keep warm. Clutching himself tightly in a poor attempt to retain any kind of body heat. The one time he went up stairs without his coat and of course he gets kidnapped.

He needed this. 

More than anything.

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Wilbur had just wanted to have the perfect Christmas.

It was his first time hosting and had decided he HAD to go all out.

More decorations than his little house needed both inside and out, homemade hot chocolate from scratch and had promised his Father and brother a very special Christmas surprise if they let him host.

Their first ever living Christmas tree and a surprise visit from the Big man himself- Santa Claus.

He’d done a bunch or research into the best spots to go where he could get a tree and quickly had been recommended from several sites about the fir trees in Logstedshire, and quickly made the trip out to find a tree.

What the websites failed to mention, was that said fir trees might be inhabited and the home of tiny people that are terrified of Human Beings. 

So if you asked: No, Wilbur was not having a good night realising he had kidnapped a child that was deathly afraid of him and only okay right now because he thought he was the real Santa Claus. 

In a way, it was a good thing the kid hadn’t realised yet, because if Wilbur had never dressed up in this silly costume, he probably would have never known about the child freezing to death in his walls.

The child was so cold despite their lively spirit when he’d caught them after they launched themself off the top of the shelf. The fact it wasn’t the first time they’d thrown themself from such a height made Wilbur sick knowing had they not been lucky, could very well not have made the long fall. But the fact the kid had been struggling, terrified and afraid in his walls when he could have helped had the guilt eating him away as the boy rambled on.

They were so sure of themselves with the cruelty of humanity too that they had him so on edge. If the blonde knew he was really the guy that had cut his tree down, he very much doubted they would be this enthusiastic. He was talking about how much he needed his gift- the gift he still had no clue what it was, but just hearing the little blondes tale, and seeing how thin his clothes were had Wilbur making a very long list of things he needed to get to help the kid out. 

A kid which he still doesn’t know the name of.

The boy's eyes had brightened, as he bounded up and down on the balls of his feet eagerly, talking about what this gift would mean for him. He was actually quite endearing despite their seemingly dire situation.

“If I tell you my gift, then you can give it to me now and I’ll actually have a chance to survive the Winter!” He explained excitedly, grining.

Wilbur pushed down his anxiousness for the boys well-being. They had already suffered enough from his mistakes. He didn’t want them to suffer any longer than they had by them accidentally discovering the truth.

“What’s your name kid?” Wilbur mentally slapped himself  that he hadn’t asked sooner.

The tiny boy chuckled to himself as they crossed their arms. “Oh come on Santa, you know my name don’t you? You have a list with every child's name on it.”

Ah- right. Santa did have that Naughty and Nice list didn’t he? Curse Santa for having to live up to magical standards.

“Uh- I came here in such a rush, I um- ah must have left my list back at the North Pole.”

“So?” The boy argued, raising a brow. “You’re magic. Don’t you just know?”

Did he say endearing earlier? How about difficult for making him use his brain at 9pm at night. (Shut up. Don’t judge him for it)

“Well you know there’s like 2 Billion kids in this world and I see them all in one night. You don’t expect me to remember every name without my list do you?”

The kid hadn’t seemed to account for this, and thought it over before shrugging in agreement. 

Oh thank goodness for kids being young and naive. 

“I guess that’s fair. But you’ve got a s*** memory in that case Big Man. Getting old.” 

Actually, make that an annoying gremlin.

“I think if someone wants their present, they should be more careful about insulting their elders.” Wilbur teased with a chuckle. The boy rolled his eyes with a groan. 

Okay, an endearing gremlin then.

“Fiiiiiiiiine.” they drawled letting their arms drop to their sides before extending their hand up in greeting. “The name’s Tommy.”

Wilbur carefully lifted his arm up and slowly extended his pinky finger out for the boy to take in an oversized handshake. 

“Nice to meet you Tommy.” His finger dwarfed the boy entirely, his pinky finger only slightly shorter than the boy's total height, but nevertheless, Tommy took the tip and shook it lightly.

“Now, why don’t you sit down and tell me what it is you’d like for Christmas?”

Wilbur couldn’t help but smile at the little boy excitedly sharing in exact detail what he wanted. What the Borrower wanted wasn’t even that difficult to get, and he knew exactly where to find it. Tommy continued to ramble on for a bit longer about what he had been doing since coming here and Wilbur made mental notes of the few places where Tommy talked about entrances in out of the walls for future reference.

He was going to have to look out for Tommy from now on and if he wanted a shred of hope in getting him to trust him as Wilbur, he was going to need a plan.

“So could I have my gift now? I would really love it now and you still have a lot of other houses to visit tonight right?” Tommy asked innocently.

Wilbur really didn’t want to stop talking to Tommy. Tommy trusted the magical Santa Claus; not regular Human Being Wilbur Soot. He knew that if he let Tommy go now, it was unlikely he would see the kid again, but if he didn’t leave as Santa now, they would most likely get suspicious, realising he was a fake and panic. 

Wilbur sighed as he brushed a stray hair of fake beard from under his cheek.

“I- yeah I guess so. Best get you to bed then too.” 

“Awwww but I’m not sleepy yet!” The blonde pouted. “This is normally when I’m awake so it would be a crime to make me sleep now.”

“Well good little girls and boys go to bed when they’re told if they want to stay on the nice list.”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Tommy stuck his tongue out in defiance and Wilbur had to bite his to stop himself from bursting out loud laughing. 

This kid was going to be the death of him he swears.

Wilbur extended his hand to the Borrower, keeping it steady as he waited for Tommy to climb on. He’s still a little huffy at first realising there was no room for argument, but climbs on anyway, sitting down in the middle of Wilbur’s palm bracing themself before he moves.

The brunette curls his fingers over the boy slightly, bringing his hand to his chest protectively. He tries not to linger too long at how it felt to hold an entire person in one hand for the second time tonight before moving to stand. 

Steadily, Wilbur makes his way over to the book shelf and cautiously raises his hand up for Tommy to climb off of. He sets his hand down on the wooden surface and Tommy takes no time in hoping off to stand, waiting expectantly for his promised present.  

“Okay I need you to close your eyes just for a second.” Wilbur asks the boy who quickly covers his eyes with his hands, only to peak out from behind his fingers seconds later.

“I mean it Tommy. Keep them closed.”

“Ugggghhhhh Fineee!” the boy said huffing, but relented nevertheless. 

Wilbur quickly whirled around and crouched down beneath the Christmas tree, snagging a gift from the floor and hastily tearing the gift tag labelled- Technoblade; from the gift before setting it next to the small borrower child. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” 

Tommy removed his hands and squealed in delight, quickly reaching down to hug the gift. 

“Oh thank you Santa! You really are the most poggers man ever!!!” Tommy spoke rapidly, smiling so much his cheeks hurt. “Well after me of course, but only by a little bit!” 

Wilbur chuckled as he gazed affectionately at the blonde hunched over the brightly wrapped gift. “You’re welcome Tommy. I’m glad you like it.”

The boy quickly stood, and started hauling the gift to the crack in the wall, as they tried to shove the gift through. Unfortunately while the crack had been enough for Tommy to squeeze through, it wasn’t quite wide enough to let the present go in without getting a tad scrunched up and paper torn. 

“Um, Tommy? Is there perhaps a bigger entrance I could take this too?” Wilbur suggested, cringing slightly as the boy gave another hard shove on the gift, intent on getting it through no matter what.

“It’ll fit. Just gotta keep pushing it in.” 

After a few more attempts, the boy did in fact give up and relented their efforts allowing Wilbur to pull the now crumpled present back out from the crack, instructing him to take it to the kitchen and place it behind the toaster, assuring him he would get it before the Bean woke up explaining how the electrical socket actually came off as a secret entrance.

He offered to take Tommy over to it too, but the stubborn boy refused, insisting that he had done enough and needed to hurry up and deliver presents to the other children before the night was over.

Taking one more long look at the boy, Wilbur watched as Tommy disappeared through the crack into the walls, the sound of tiny footsteps pitter pattering away before Wilbur himself quietly crept back to his room before he removed the Santa costume and flopped down onto his bed. 

He’d just met a tiny child.

A tiny child trying to survive in his walls.

That was deathly afraid of him.

Quickly Wilbur shot up from his bed snatching his phone from the night stand; a plan forming in his mind. The screen read 9:31 pm before he hastily unlocked it and dove into his contacts, quickly stopping on a profile of a girl with light pink hair, dialling their number shortly after.

The phone rang twice before a woman answered on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Niki? Hey! How’s the holidays going?” Wilbur asked as he grabbed his coat and gloves from the wardrobe.

“So I need a favour…”

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Tommy awoke warm for the first time that week.

He opened his eyes blearily, almost willing himself to fall back into dream land before his eyes snapped fully open. Tommy rubbed his eyes a few times, eyes going wide trying to comprehend that this was real and not just a dream as the thoughts of the previous night played through his head.

He was in his Christmas present: A brand new pair of bright red, fluffy woollen socks- the most perfect bed ever and exactly what Tommy had asked for. He had basically run to get his gift as fast as possible, before hauling it back through the walls to a space close by the bookshelf; the space seemingly much more homely after last night's introductions. 

He hugged the woollen fabric tightly, smiling as he remembered the soft smile Santa had as he watched him go and how kind and gentle he had been with him the entire time.

The Borrower was so pleased and grateful that he had been able to meet the Santa Claus, and would cherish the magical night forever.

He stayed snuggled in his new bed for a little while longer before his stomach grumbled in protest that he should go and have something to eat. Albeit a little grumbly, his hunger eventually won out and Tommy made his way through the walls back to the kitchen so he could gather some food before the Bean woke up.

Stealthily, he removed the electrical socket, expecting to make it a quick supply run; stepping out into the open before freezing in surprise.

Laid out in a neat pile behind the toaster was a small stack of brightly wrapped gifts all wrapped in different coloured and patterned paper, and right in the middle, an envelope with his name written in gold cursive. Tommy smiled brightly, as he eagerly ran forward to the awaiting stack of gifts, quickly grabbing a gift reading the label. 

To: Tommy From: Santa

Tommy denies that he cried that day. 

That he took each gift home and opened each one oh so delicately, afraid if he didn’t they might just disappear, happy tears trailing down his cheek as he opened a gift revealing a beautiful, blue knitted sweater- and in just his size. 

His tears didn’t cease as he opened the other gifts revealing several new pairs of warm winter clothes, new rope and hooks for climbing, some tea candles with a tiny piece of flint and steel to light them, and the tiniest iced cookies he had ever seen. He could actually hold this in one hand like humans did and he had a whole bag of them!!! His prayers had been answered and he couldn’t be more thankful.

Soon, the only thing that remained was the envelope.

He dried his face as best he could, doing his best to not smear any tears or snot onto the pristine surface as he opened the envelope, revealing a card with a picture of glitter candy canes decorating the front. 

Settled back into his new bed, Tommy opened the card and read the message inside.

Dear Tommy, It was lovely meeting you and getting to know your story. I figured you might  like some extra gifts as well to help you be more comfortable in Wilbur’s walls. I think you should try talking to him.  You might be surprised. Sincerely, Santa Claus

P.S- He’s not as scary as you think.

Tommy’s smile became puzzled as he reread the last few lines.

Who the heck was Wilbur?

Was that the name of the Bean that lived here?

Oh come on, that's not fair! How come Santa knew Wilbur’s name but not his!

He grumbled a little bit at the thought, but his mind kept drawing back to the last line of the card.

‘He’s not as scary as you think.’

“Hmpf, you keep saying that.” Tommy grumbled. 

What was with Santa’s insistence on this?

As much as he wanted to be annoyed at Santa for putting forward such a ridiculous idea, Tommy decided to drag himself out of bed and to the book shelf crack. The Bean had gotten up not long after Tommy had made it back to his new home, but he’d been a tad too distracted to really care about how slow and heavy they had been trudging about this morning unlike their usually poised self.

Currently, said Bean was sitting on the couch, the exact same spot he and Santa had been last night, absentmindedly staring at his hand.

How could Santa think this guy was any good? They had kidnapped him unknowingly, almost let him die from hypothermia unknowingly, destroyed the top of his home unknowingly and Santa still thinks they won’t hurt him?

Okay so maybe it wasn’t their fault all those things happened just because they didn’t know he was there, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still very capable of hurting him for having to do all those things. But then again, Santa knew who was naughty or nice. And he wouldn’t ask him to do something that would endanger his safety if this ‘Wilbur’ guy wasn’t a good person right?

Tommy observed the Bean a little longer, as they ran their thumb over their palm. Their normally neat curly hair was all over the place and he could have sworn there were black bags under their eyes from lack of sleep. They suddenly turned their head and were staring straight at his crack by the book shelf. The Borrower was certain they couldn’t see him from the couch, but ducked back just slightly in case.

The Bean simply sighed as a small smile graced their features. Tommy was right about the black bags. Bean did not look like they had slept at all. 

He thought back to what Santa had said. 

I think you should try talking to him.

They certainly didn’t seem dangerous. Maybe they really weren’t bad like the Jolly man said?

But was it really worth taking the risk and talking to this guy?

Before he could dwell on it for much longer, the door bell sounded and Wilbur snapped his head to the sound before standing and stretching; their limbs popping and cracking slightly from their limited use. Before he left the living room, the man stopped and stared at his crack once more. Tommy didn’t dare breathe as they simply smiled and shook their head, before exiting and headed towards the front door.

Tommy allowed himself to exhale as the sound of footsteps got further away.

“Weirdo.” Tommy muttered to himself as he pushed himself back from the crack and began to head back to his bed for a well deserved rest.

He’d think about what Santa said, and just maybe he’d talk to this- Wilbur. If not, he hoped he'd meet Santa again so he could thank them in person.

Once he was back in his bed, Tommy quickly slipped in snuggling down, allowing himself to drift off to the chatter of beings much larger than himself from beyond the walls.

“Wil! So good to see you! It’s been ages!”

“Hi Dad, thanks for letting me host. I’m so glad you and Techno could make it!

“So are we, but you look like shit mate. Up late again? Wouldn't be related to that surprise you were telling us about?”

“You could say that…” 

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

Tommy never did meet Santa Claus again.

The card proudly on display in his new home, a secret hope he would one day and a constant reminder of what Santa had asked him to try.

And maybe one day, Tommy would finally take up the old man's advice and go and speak to Wilbur, and discover perhaps they may have been right.

Maybe then he’d finally have a friend to keep him warm during the holiday seasons and to rely on like he had wished. 

One that seemed to always know just what he needed despite never telling them, and was very insistent about never wearing Santa costumes.

No matter how many times a little boy begged….

 ˗ ˏ ˋ ★ˎˊ ˗   ༺𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂༻༺𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼༻  ˗ ˏ ˋ ★ˎˊ ˗  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was a lot of words....

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING TO THE END! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it and it means a lot you read all the way through <3

Tag List: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10

And cue rant: Honestly you guys have no idea just how much you all mean to me an in this community and the impact you've had on me in the last year alone. I could not be more thankful for being apart of this and getting to know you guys. Getting so back into writing has been really good for me and rekindled something I love so I can't thank you enough.

And even though I know I've been a little quieter online, I'm still here lurking about and working on projects. A lot has happened in the last few months alone and I'm quite happy that I'm limiting myself to be a bit more healthier with my online habits.

Anyways thanks so much if you read this far!

Thanks to my Beta readers @a-xyz-s squishy and munchkin for reading this for me, and I wish you all a very safe and wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!

-Beckyu ❤️

#beckyu writes #beckyu but on ao3 #my writing #my fic #tiny!tommy #t!tommy #borrower!tommy #giant!wilbur #g!wilbur #human!wilbur #g!santa claus #mentioned g!technoblade #mentioned g!philza #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #dsmp gt #dsmp g/t #mcyt gt community #mcyt g/t community #giant tiny #giant/tiny #gt #g/t #gt writing #g/t writing #gt community #g/t community #I AM SORRY FOR ALL THE TAGS! QwQ #BUT THERE WAS A LOT TO ADD

[in-death-we-fall]

The Ultimate Rockstar Test

This week: Wednesday 13

Bands like to think they’re badass, but who’s truly the most rock’n’roll of them all? We test them and find out who’s top of the class for chaos!

Words: Dan Slessor

(drive link)(Joey's Rockstar Test)

What’s the worst condition you’ve left a hotel room in? “I was 17 when a venue I was playing first offered up a hotel room to stay in after the show. Having read up on all the excesses of classic bands, I was excited. So, we took all the towels in the room, soaked them in water, jammed them in the fridge, and whacked it to its coldest so they all froze into a block of ice. We also glued the Bible to the table – dumb shit like that. The owners were so pissed, and luckily we got away before they could sue us!” Frozen towels? Well, that’s a surprisingly inventive pass ✔

Have you ever shed blood in the name of rock’n’roll? “Oh yeah, teeth, too, and there have been a couple of broken bones along the way. I have a fake front tooth and half of one, too, and I must have broken those 10 or 15 times on microphones and guitars. I busted my head on a monitor once and bled through a show, and I also fractured my ankle on the first night of a tour and spent the next two months dancing and wiggling away on it.” Have you ever thought about investing in a gumshield? Pass ✔

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen a bandmate do? “It used to ve strange seeing your bandmate taking a shit in public, but it’s funny how you get used to that. On Murderdolls’ first tour, Kerrang! Came out and were taunting us, saying we should be more crazy. The next thing you know, Joey [Jordison, Murderdolls guitarist] is taking a shit right there in the street. Later on, we were making tonnes of noise in the parking lot, and this old lady came out of her house and yelled at us, and I ended up throwing a bottle at the wall by her and she called the cops. Shitting in the street may actually have been the nicest thing to happen that night…” When public defecation is the nicest part, you know it’s bad. Pass ✔

Have you ever thrown a diva-esque tantrum? “There was one time on tour with Murderdolls when a local band who were opening one of the shows kept coming into our dressing room uninvited. It wasn’t just that they were coming in all the time, they were drinking our booze as well! After it happened the first time I was like, ‘Alright, okay, whatever.’ But then they came back and did it again, just coming into our dressing room and helping themselves to our booze. So I ended up losing it at them. I actually think it was kind of justified – you don’t touch my alcohol, man!” You yelled at the support band. But it was sort of reasonable. And divas aren’t reasonable. Fail ✘

Have you ever broken an instrument in anger? “Not actually in anger, but I’ve broken stuff in the spirit of rock’n’roll. At a London show, I had a guitar I’d been playing for four or five years, and in the last song I threw it as high as I could while it was still plugged in. When it finally hit the stage, it made one of the coolest sounds I’ve ever heard!” You intended to do it = more rock’n’roll = pass ✔

What’s been you craziest rider request? “In Germany, we sent this runner out to get us a (sic) McDonald’s. I wrote down everyone’s order, and at the bottom I added 25 vanilla ice cream cones. He gets to McDonald’s and calls our tour manager and says, ‘I can’t carry all the ice cream cones, I’m going to have to make two trips!’ I kinda laughed at that…” Ice cream is a rubbish rider request. However, you did make some poor lackey go and get it like a proper diva, so pass ✔

What’s the strangest place you’ve ever woken up? “In the woods, in Germany. We’d played Rock Am Ring the same day as Slipknot headlined, and it was the first time I’d seen Joey in years. Having played at 1pm, I got completely hammered, sprayed a fire extinguisher at Randy Blythe [Lamb Of God] and trashed Slipknot’s dressing room with a tree. It was in a pot in the corridor, and I thought it was artificial, so I picked it up, walked in, and called, ‘Hey Joey!’ I threw it at him, and I may as well have thrown a giant bucket of dirt in there. So, I fled before Slipknot killed me, and some hours later I woke up in the woods…” …and that was the last time Slipknot threw you a surprise party. Pass ✔

Wednesday scored 82% Wednesday’s always seemed like a pretty good rockstar to us. So we expected good things from his turn at The Test. But it was his imagination more than his antics that did him well here – frozen towels, glued Bibles and the cunning use of a tree. Even the ice cream request was amusing, although, next time, maybe ask for something a little bit more glamorous. Like, we dunno, peacocks. Or Kinder Surprise.

2013 Leaderboard ↑Perry Farrell, Jane’s Addiction - 98% Nikki Sixx, Mötley Crüe - 91% Mike Shinoda, Linkin Park - 81% ↓Winston McCall, Parkway Drive - 58%

#wednesday 13 #murderdolls #interview #*extremely deep sigh* #'i just worked out all my shit with joey. now i'm gonna throw a tree at him'

[tanthamorewinterfest]

Let's do a little round up of the first fics posted into the Tanthamore Winterfest collection on AO3...

Don't forget to leave a comment if you haven't already, spread some love!

So you wanna sculpt some snow tits? by spybrarian Rating: General Summary:

Jade and Kit have some fun in the snow. A little drabble to kick of Tanthamore Winterfest, inspired by the header myrebelliousphase made for us.

snow on the beach by rochke11 Rating: Teen and up Summary:

Months after the end of the Quest, Jade and Kit take a detour on their way to spend the Winter Solstice in the Wildwood. They find themselves on a beach when it starts to snow.

i feel you no matter what (maroon) by pirateygoodness for rochke11 Rating: Teen and up Summary:

Kit has vivid memories of creeping into the Great Hall after bedtime, sneaking glimpses of the wildness of those parties. It always felt like this: the din of many voices combining into a dull roar of humanness that somehow felt quieter than the voices of just a few. (Or: Kit and Jade, and a moment to get lost together on the road home)

A Skating Rink at the End of the World by TheLateNightStoryTeller Rating: Teen and up Summary:

So it’s the end of the world. So Kit’s blood may hold the only hope to cure the deadly fungal zombie plague. So Jade might have been tasked with escorting the love of her life to her doom at the hands of the Fireflies. There’s still time for some fun on the ice, right?

Part 2 of The Firefly and her Cordyceps Princess

So I've Heard by Geek_and_Nina Rating: Mature Summary:

jade's coaching boxing, and graydon is her favorite student. kit is his best friend and we alllll know where that's going to lead

A prequel of Show Don't Tell, deaf Kit au!

Christmas Trees: Worst Invention Ever by TheLateNightStoryTeller Rating: Mature Summary:

In the spirit of the holidays, Kit makes a bad decision and ends up needing to be rescued by the fire department (and her girlfriend). Fortunately Jade has a way Kit can make up for her mistake.

Part 2 of A love story on fire, Tanthamore firefighter au

Under the Mistletoe by lowkeyed1 Rating: Teen and up Summary:

Airk has been crushing on Graydon for a long time, but now Graydon has a crush on someone else. What will tonight's Christmas party bring, especially once mixmaster Boorman starts serving up specialty drinks?

Sink or Swim by yubnubbery Rating: Mature Summary: (our first summer addition!)

Airk asks Kit to take his young daughter to her next swim lesson, as long as she promises not to hit on the hot swim instructor. He’s already called dibs! Or 5 times Kit needed saving (from herself) and 1 time she didn’t.

Also an honourable mention for including some of the prompts in chapter 18:

A princess and her other half by Haruka81 Rating: Explicit Summary:

Kit knows that the Wyrm is waking up, Elora and Willow have been clear about it. And she knows that an arranged marriage is needed in order to form strong alliances. Still she is not happy at all to have to marry someone that she doesn't know just out of duty. Well let's say that this is true until she meets the Princess of the Bone Reavers, but will Jade think the same?

We can't promise these round-up posts will continue through the season because the season is busy, but who knows! For more about Tanthamore Winterfest: Rules and introduction Moodboard master list Prompts masterlist

#tanthamore #tanthamorewinterfest #willow 2022 #willow #jade claymore #kit tanthalos #tanthamore fic #willow fanfiction #fanfic roundup

[vinceaddams]

Top 5 WORST fabrics

1. that fuckign. synthetic knit that some of the sport coats at work are made of. I don't know what it's called but I hate it. It's polyester with barely any stretch and is. so. DENSE. Worst thing to alter. Damn near impossible to get a pin or a hand sewing needle through, and sometimes it makes the machine skip stitches. A lot of the sport coats are half lined, and if you bring me one of those ones with the side seams pinned to take in, I will just take in the centre back seam instead because I DO NOT want to hand sew the lining back down to both entire side seams on that horrible impenetrable bullshit fabric. Sometimes it has a woven looking pattern printed on it, as if to mock me.

Some of the shirts at work are made of a slightly softer version of the same stuff, and I once tried to mend a small hole in one of them using a zigzag stitch and it shredded the fabric and ruined the shirt. They had to go find the customer an identical replacement shirt, because the stupid fabric couldn't hold up to a few tightly spaced zig zags. Bullshit, bullshit garbage fabric. I hate it, I hate it I hate it I hate it. Everyone should stop manufacturing it immediately. Stop making it and destroy the formulas so nobody can ever make it again. It's not even a particularly bad texture to touch, relatively speaking, it's just a nightmare to sew.

2. Faux fur. To be fair, there is some decently nice faux fur out there, but most of it is just such an icky plastic-y texture and it sheds so much. So so much, and then you're worried about breathing in floating fuzzies of plastic. And it can also be really hard to get a pin or needle through the base fabric, depending on what kind it is. I remember I had some scraps of white faux fur that I used for craft projects as a small child, and it was like that, and there was some kind of finishing (presumably to help glue the hairs in place) that made the back of the fabric all crusty. It's the kind of thing that's awful to touch if your hand is even the slightest bit sweaty. I dislike polyester fleece for the same reason. No fleece sheets or pyjamas for me, ick!

3. Really loosely woven boucle. Who would invent a fabric that frays so gotdamn much? Look at this. (image source) Awful. Falls apart if you sneeze at it. Unpleasant texture, and not even nice to look at. (Yes I chose an ugly picture on purpose, but it's not a look I like even if it is in nice colours.)

Where's your structural integrity?? You can have weird lumpy fabric and still weave it decently tight! Especially if it's wool and you felt it a little bit. I shortened a skirt for a co-worker and it was made of similar stuff, and I was worried I'd damage it because it was so loose and shifty. What happens if you walk by a tree or something and snag a thread? Whole thread comes out and deforms a big patch of fabric? Well that's what you get for making all your threads just acquaintances instead of best friends. (I hate poly chiffon for similar reasons.)

4. Poly/cotton blends, because they feel like a betrayal. You could have been 100% cotton but you aren't :( Could have been a nice comfy shirt or nightgown that could eventually be used for firestarters once it's too worn out, but no, can't use blends for kindling because the polyester part melts into nasty little black plastic blobs. Not like 100% cotton or linen, which burns nicely and leaves basically no ash. And I hate pilling, horrible hell texture, and synthetics tend to pill way more.

5. Anything with glitter on it, because it's contagious. Small sequins are also bad (see blog post linked in poly chiffon line) but at least they're sewn on and only come off where you cut them. I think we as a species have moved past the need to glue glitter onto fabric, because it does not stay glued. We have foil print, and metallic ink, and beading and rhinestones and metallic thread and all kinds of other ways to do the sparklyshiny. No more sticking glitter on things that might go in the wash.

Generally speaking I dislike synthetics and Bad textures, though everyone's opinion of bad textures is different. I'm also not fond of stretch knit, but it has its uses.

#ask #ask meme #fabric #sewing

[bearbluebooks]

Chapter 7 Christmas in Velaris

When 29 year old Gwyn moves back to Velaris, her new neighbor turns out to be less new than she first expected. With a new bookstore and old debts, Gwyn finds herself in a world of trouble. Do Christmas miracles exist or do they only happen in books and movies? What role does the Grinch tech genius play in this?

Read Chapter 1 here, or Chapter 7 here

17:45

To become rich was never an aspiration that fueled her soul, as long as she had a roof over her head and happiness in her heart. 

For Gwyn, materialism was never about possession. It was about the appreciation of the big things and the small moments. Whenever Gwyn bought something it had meaning, function, or need. That’s why everything she owned fit in her car. One of the boxes contained the many ornaments that she carefully placed in her Christmas tree two nights ago- the knitted star her mother made her when she was nine, and the mini Catrin and Gwyn puppets they crafted together in kindergarten.

Lucky for her, because her bank account alone would not make her happy. When she dared to look at her balance this morning, the number she expected to see was wrong. 

So wrong. 

It was a tough realization, once again, that idealism only got you so far until it met reality.

Bills had wrecked the small savings she amassed over the years. So much so that she didn’t have any reserves to fall back on. And that scared her, to live in constant worry of the unexpected. 

After seeing her balance, she knew to expect trouble sooner or later- a broken down car, a heating bill, or another collapsed roof. The possibilities alone gave her anxiety. 

On top of that, she was a new business owner with no business to profit from. She had to be inventive. And quick.

So very quick.

Otherwise, it would have all been for nothing.

Even if she won the Christmas competition, she still needed to gather 10.000 dollars more.

Luckily, Azriel seemed more inclined to join forces after yesterday. He even seemed to have fun at the Christmas farm. 

Miracles were still possible, she thought with a smile. She hoped it extended to her financial stability- which definitely needed a miracle.

She decided to give herself the weekend to come up with a plan. 

Tonight, she would go out and forget her worries. She deserved that. To be with her old friends, and to make new memories. To forget all troubles, and maybe get into some new ones. 

Who was she kidding? Even with alcohol, she needed control over her body and the situation.

A message popped on her phone, it took her out of her ruminating thoughts immediately. It was the guy from two nights ago, Troy.

Troy: Hi Gwyn, Troy here, the Christmas Guy, how’s the tree treating you? Not giving you any trouble?😉

Gwyn: Hi Troy. Not anymore ☺️ If he does I know who to contact to kick his ass.

Troy: You know it. Happy to help.

Troy: Speaking of help, would you like to help me finish dinner this Saturday night?

Gwyn: …

She didn’t know what to reply. Her heart beat faster, and many reasons flashed inside her mind as to why she should say no. She forced her mind to find reasons to say yes- he was handsome, he had the physic of someone who grew up on protein shakes and mountain exercise. And he seemed kind. 

The idea of a date terrified her to her core.

Ever since her mum and Catrin died eleven years ago, she had a hard time opening up. To trust the world and the people in it. Ever since she experienced the worst, it became impossible to trust the good existed too. Life was unpredictable, and people were unreliable. The only thing you had control over was yourself.

The safety of her home became a cage of her own making. She had reasons to crave that cage, but there was also an internal wall that she built between her and the outside world. A wall that became thicker with every year that she stayed inside that cage. 

Nothing happened to her there- nothing bad, but also not a lot of good. 

She had Mouse, and jobs here and there, but she craved friendship, experiences, love, and life.

When she stepped into her car one week ago, it was out of a desperate attempt to shatter that wall. Gwyn knew that after so many years of building that wall up, only a jackhammer could get it down. And nobody would do it for her, she would have to be that jackhammer. 

Growth happens outside your comfort zone, she reminded herself as she stepped into her car with shaking legs. A deceitful string connected to safety grew taut the further she drove. It urged her to get back to her cage, back to the safety of the known. 

Instead, she focused on her heart, where the wish for happiness resided, and on the whisper of strength that beckoned her to trust her ability to handle the unknown.

Before she knew it, that string became weaker and weaker, until only resolve remained and she had the keys to her new future in her hands.

Maybe this was another possibility. A chance to break down her other walls. So she listened to that same inner whisper and replied.

Gwyn: sure. I’m good at eating. 

As soon as she replied, she threw her phone and source of fear as far away as she could, in hopes of the feeling following the object in motion.

It didn’t, it stayed right there in her gut.

She didn’t have time to ruminate on the feeling for too long. Nesta would be here in fifteen minutes. 

And she still needed to pick out an outfit. Mouse sat on the bed and she could swear she saw judgment in her eyes when she wore the purple sequin dress. Quickly Gwyn changed into an old dress from Lilly. The long satin green dress had an intricate light brown pattern that spread across the bust and the skirt. The small straps were adjustable and allowed her to fit the dress perfectly to her body. Nobody looked at shoes on nights out, and she only brought two pairs so her all-stars had to do. With quick hands, she braided her hip-length hair. When she looked in the mirror, she was quite proud of herself. She usually avoided make-up, but tonight she wore brown eyeliner and dark red lipstick. The dress complimented her overall look perfectly, and she felt good. She felt beautiful. 

A glance at her phone showed the time: 6 pm. Normally Nesta was always on time. 

A knock on her door proved her right. 

With one quick grab of her coat and one final kiss on Mouse's head, she made her way downstairs.

Before she opened the door, she left the lock on the door to ask “Nesta?”

Safety was still important. It was all about balance, she reminded herself.

“The one and only,” the voice answered. With a smile on her face, Gwyn opened the door fully.

Before she knew it, she enveloped her friend in a hug. Neither of them let go immediately. It felt as if they both craved the comfort of each other's arms and nostalgia mixed with opportunity took over.

When they both let go after some time, Nesta whistled as she said “Gwynnie, you look hot.”

“So do you!” Gwyn replied enthusiastically. Nesta looked beautiful in her short beige dress. The long brown boots had such high heels that they made her just as tall as Gwyn. The faux leather jacket finished the look into something stylish yet sophisticated.

“Let’s meet Emerie, she is already at Rita’s.” 

“She’s bringing Mor, you remember her right?”

Mor was the gorgeous blonde who was in the same year as Cassian, Nesta’s boyfriend, Rhysand, and Azriel. Together, they were known as the ‘inner circle’, or the most popular people in school.

“I do, I can’t wait to see them again.”

“Let’s go then,” she said as Nesta already dragged her by her elbow towards the bar. 

—--

21:21

The evening was still young, unlike the memories they shared at the back of the dimly lit bar. “Remember when Miss Gold made you write your name 1000 times because you forgot which line you had to read?” Emerie reminisced.

Nesta joined “Or when we all had to be in detention because we wouldn’t say who pulled the fire alarm to get out of gym class?” The memory made her laugh.

The feeling of her past becoming intertwined with her present made her body warm with happiness. The feeling surprised her, it had been a long time since she felt that way.

“Are you back for good?” Emerie asked as soon as they found their familiar footing. The question woke her up from the warm haze of nostalgia. Planting her firmly in the present trenches of reality.

It was bound to come sooner or later. The need for an explanation- why she abandoned them all those years ago. Without a warning, without a goodbye, and without any further contact. But not tonight, she wasn’t ready. And she wasn’t having that conversation in Rita’s. Tonight one word was all she could give, “Yes.”

“Good,” Nesta replied solemnly.

With a smile, she looked at her surroundings and let her senses become overtaken by life. By the bustling sounds of the music. The slight sting of gin mixed with the sweetness of the tonic. The changing lights illuminated dancing faces in short intervals. The smell of sweat mixed with perfume and alcohol.

Then she took in the sight in front of her. Mor sitting next to Emerie, who held a possessive hand on her knee. It looked like they had been a couple for years, but apparently, it had only been three months, when Emerie finally gathered the courage to ask the blonde femme fatale out on a date. The rest was history.

Nesta sat on Gwyn’s right, close enough to whisper things about the people on the dancefloor in her ear, “Look there’s Lola, she’s married with two kids, whenever she needs a break, she comes here.”

Mor had secured them a VIP table in a secluded area with a separate table and bottle service, it provided a perfect view of the dancefloor. Gwyn had never experienced such luxury going out. When she was old enough to drink, one friend had taken her to a shady bar in town, she got so drunk she forgot half of the night. It terrified her to her core that she had no memories of such a big chunk of time. She spent weeks trying to remember, to no avail. She promised herself she would never put herself in that position ever again.

Tonight was no different. No matter how much free alcohol came her way, or the luxury setting, she would not have more than three drinks. 

As the communications officer at Black Inc. Mor had ‘connections’ that reached far beyond the ‘depressing building’, as she called it. 

“Thank you for your battle against the Grinch, it’s a tough but noble fight,” she said into her ear. Although the area was removed from the dancing crowd, the music was still loud in her ears.

“I pinched myself when I saw the Christmas tree in the lobby. It’s still undecorated but baby steps,” she said with a shrug.

With a smile, Gwyn said, “It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh girl, you have no idea,” Mor replied with a scoff. “Last year he wrote a program that flagged everything that had to do with Christmas. Even the word ‘balls’ was off limits.”

“What happened if you used it?” Gwyn dared to ask.

“Don’t ask,” Emerie interrupted.

Gwyn would definitely ask Azriel the next time she saw him. 

Which was much sooner than she thought, when she spotted two imposing figures entering Rita’s. 

With shocked eyes she looked at Nesta “I didn’t know Azriel was coming tonight?”

With a shrug, Nesta said, “He rarely joins, but when we said you were coming he suddenly had a clear schedule.”

Fine. This would be fine. They were on good terms, at least she thought so. They picked out a Christmas tree after all. Why did this feel different? More intimate?

Her hands started to sweat and her heart beat out of her chest.

He spotted her in an instant as if he could feel her presence before he saw her. His intense stare never left hers, until Cassian and Azriel reached their table.

He looked devastatingly handsome in his black pants and black dress shirt. Part of his sleeves were rolled up to reveal black tattoos. When he came closer, she noticed his unbuttoned shirt, which revealed even more tattoos and a trail of obsidian hair. The sight was almost obscene, and suddenly warmth spread through Gwyn’s body for different reasons.

“Hello ladies,” Cassian said in a bouldering tone that could be heard over the loud music. “Hello sweetheart,” Cassian said as he kissed Nesta.

Azriel remained silent as he took up the space to Mor’s left, opposite of Gwyn. Instead of a greeting, he ordered two whiskeys from the server.

Cassian sat on Nesta’s other side, rubbing loving circles on her lower back as he asked in such a way that made her feel like no time had passed at all, “Gwyn, how long has it been? It’s nice to see you again.”

When Gwyn and Azriel dated, Cassian became one of Gwyn’s friends too. Nesta was her best friend, and Cassian was Azriel’s, there were natural confines to their relationship that needed them to be friendly. His kind heart, caring nature, and shared love for music made it extremely easy to the point where she considered him one of her closest friends too. With that old connection in mind, she answered honestly, “Too long.”

“Enough talking, let’s dance,” Mor said as she dragged Emerie to the dancefloor. Before Emerie allowed herself to be swept away, she downed her glass of red wine at impressive speed.

“Let’s show them what real dancing looks like,” Nesta said as she guided Cassian to the center of the dancefloor.

Suddenly, Azriel, Gwyn, and four empty chairs were the only ones left.

Tension replaced the earlier easiness, and their silence only added to it.

“How are your muscles?” he asked suddenly breaking the silence.

Her entire body was aching, she could hardly walk and even lifting her gin tonic hurt- none of which she would ever admit. Instead, she said without looking into his devastating hazel eyes, “Fine, thank you. How are yours?”

Without saying anything, he left his seat across from her to take up Nesta’s former seat- right next to her. The closeness revealed his intoxicating cedar smell. The fragrance entered her nose and overtook all of her senses.

“What do you think about Rita’s?” he asked into her ear. The baritone voice sent shivers down her back. 

“I like it,” she answered honestly as she wished he would ask her something else just so she could hear his voice again.

Instead, she blurted out, “Is it true you banned the word ‘balls’ in your office?” at a speed that made her wish there was a better filter between her mind and her mouth.

Azriel almost spat out his whiskey, and she couldn’t blame him, “What?” he asked with a red face that came from nearly suffocating.

“I heard you build some kind of Grinch program?” she asked, unwilling to change the subject. It was better to commit than to drop it, she decided.

He closed his eyes for two seconds to gather strength as he continued “Black Inc. is a place of business, Christmas has no place in it.”

“You are a Grinch,” she teased with a slap on his muscular arms, “What’s the harm in a little Christmas joy?” She dared to ask. “If it makes your employees happy, isn’t that good for business?”

His eyes looked hurt, not mad, which was strange especially when he didn’t respond further.

Instead, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Playful banter was one thing, physical closeness was another. It was one of the walls she had carefully built. And it felt like he was standing there hammering away at her defenses. But something inside her screamed to let him. 

So she did.

“Okay,” she said as he guided them towards the dancefloor. His enormous hand encompassed hers in a protective grasp that ensured nobody was able to separate them until they reached their destination.

His imposing presence caused people to naturally make way for them until they reached a spot in the back of the dancefloor.

It had been a while since Gwyn danced outside of the safety of her bedroom. She suddenly felt very self-conscious of every movement her body made- the way her hips swayed, and her inability to come up with anything to do with her hands. 

Azriel seemed to be in tune with her worries, as he moved closer and placed his hands on her hips. In swaying motions, he guided her to the rhythm of the music. 

At first, her body tensed under the sudden touch before she felt the scars of his hands on the naked skin of her body and she was somehow transported back to when they were both young. To when he would pick her up in his old jeep, to take her to Rhysand’s house where secret parties were held every other week. How he would lead them to a secluded spot, where they would get lost in each other’s touch.

Her entire body relaxed into the safety of old trust and older memories.

Love in This Club boomed in the background and it felt oddly fitting.

“Is this okay?” He said into her ear, as he held her in his arms.

“Yes.” She assured him with a smile as she moved her hands to embrace his neck. 

Song after song followed, and the whole world faded away. Together they swayed to the rhythm of the music and the beating of their hearts.

At a certain point, Azriel moved behind Gwyn, his hands never leaving her waist. 

“You’re like a dream, Gwyn,” he said as he leaned down.

The compliment from his lips made her even more aware of his effect on her- on the heat that spread throughout her body. All she could focus on was all the points where their bodies connected which were suddenly on fire. Instead of answering with a compliment, she allowed her body to melt into his, like two puzzle pieces lost to time and space. She let her head fall into his muscular chest which allowed them to move as one. With closed eyes, she savored the moment. His strong body behind her felt like a protective cocoon of pleasant touch and a promise of safety. Without thinking, she let out a breath of pure contentment.

Until her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Then it buzzed again.

When she looked at the screen it was Troy. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Dread spread through her body as she read the words.

Troy: It’s a date.

Troy: I’ll pick you up at eight.

Azriel seemed to have looked at her phone on instinct. Shit.

“It’s not what you-“ 

She couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes, but she could hear it in his voice as he said “This was a mistake.” 

Before she could explain he already moved out of the bubble they created and the the whole world crashed around her. Lights flashed in her eyes. People crowded around her. The music boomed in her ears. And suddenly, she was alone again. 

She couldn’t help but think it was for the best. Azriel deserved someone better. Someone who wasn’t broken.

She wasn’t a dream. It was a dream. To think she could ever be with Azriel again. The past was the past, and she was a fool to think otherwise. She forced herself not to cry as she said goodbye to Nesta, Cassian, Emerie, and Mor. 

As soon as she left Rita’s, a silent waterfall of tears ran down her cold face. The stinging sensation accompanied her all the way home. Back to where she belonged. Where it was safe. 

#gwyn berdara #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #acotar fanfiction #gwyn acosf #gwyneth berdara #acotar #acotar alternate universe #ao3 fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … November 28

1661 – Edward Hyde, 3rd Earl of Clarendon (d.1723), styled Viscount Cornbury between 1674 and 1709, was Governor of New York and New Jersey between 1701 and 1708, and is perhaps best known for his cross-dressing while in office.

Cornbury came to be regarded in the historical literature as a moral profligate, sunk in corruption: possibly the worst governor Britain ever imposed on an American colony. The early accounts claim he took bribes and plundered the public treasury.

Nineteenth century historian George Bancroft said that Cornbury illustrated the worst form of the English aristocracy's "arrogance, joined to intellectual imbecility". Later historians characterise him as a "degenerate and pervert who is said to have spent half of his time dressed in women's clothes", a "fop and a wastrel".

He is said to have delivered a "flowery panegyric on his wife's ears" after which he invited every gentleman present to feel precisely how shell-like they were; to have misappropriated £1500 meant for the defence of New York Harbor, and, scandalously, to have dressed in women's clothing and lurked "behind trees to pounce, shrieking with laughter, on his victims".

Cornbury is reported to have opened the 1702 New York Assembly clad in a hooped gown and an elaborate headdress and carrying a fan, imitative of the style of Queen Anne. When his choice of clothing was questioned, he replied, "You are all very stupid people not to see the propriety of it all. In this place and occasion, I represent a woman (the Queen), and in all respects I ought to represent her as faithfully as I can." It is also said that in August 1707, when his wife Lady Cornbury died, His High Mightiness (as he preferred to be called) attended the funeral again dressed as a woman. It was shortly after this that mounting complaints from colonists prompted the Queen to remove Cornbury from office.

1694 – On this date the Japanese poet master Matsuo Basho was born. The most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan, during his lifetime, Basho was recognized for his works in the collaborative haikai no renga form; today, after centuries of commentary, he is recognized as a master of brief and clear haiku. His poetry is internationally renowned, and within Japan many of his poems are reproduced on monuments and traditional sites.

According to Jane Reichold's Basho: The Complete Haiku, Matsuo Basho, the poet once wrote "There was a time when I was fascinated with the ways of homosexual love," and this has been suggested as being connected to a sudden move Basho made at age 22 from his home town of Ueno to Kyoto.

1863 – The French painter and engraver Charles Filiger (d.1928), was born on this date (b. 1863). A friend of Gauguin's he took as his method Gauguin's use of flat color and at times seem to venture further into the area of decorative abstraction than the master.

Filiger portrayed the piety of the peasants. Intensely religious himself, and suffering from guilt about his homosexuality, he found it far easier than his more sophisticated friends. But where they lacked Gauguin's psychological insight, Filiger lacked his aesthetic boldness. Rather than invent a new method of painting, Filiger preferred to refurbish the old ones. In this he bears some similarity to the Pre-Raphaelites, in that he also returned to pre-Renaissance sources for inspiration, in his case to Giotto and the Sienese.

He studied in Paris at the Académie Colarossi. He settled in Brittany in 1889, where he was associated with Gauguin and his circle at Pont-Aven, but he remained a mystic and a recluse. The Breton setting, with its stark landscape and devout peasant inhabitants, provided fertile ground for the development of Filiger's mystical imagery and deliberate archaisms.

Filiger's friend, the painter Emile Bernard, characterized Filiger's style as an amalgam of Byzantine and Breton popular art forms. The geometric quality and the expressionless faces in his gouaches of sacred subjects such as Virgin and Child (1892) reveal Filiger's love of early Italian painting and the Byzantine tradition. Evident too in the heavy outlines and flat colors of his work are the cloisonnism of the Pont-Aven school and the influence of Breton and Epinal popular prints. Filiger's landscapes, such as Breton Shore (1893), share with Gauguin's paintings an abstract, decorative quality and rigorous simplification.

1954 – Gavin Geoffrey Dillard is an American poet, songwriter and pornstar. He is the author of seven books of homoerotic poetry, two anthologies of poetry, and several popular songs. He wrote many of the lyrics for Bark! The Musical.

During the late 1970s, as 'Gavin Geoffrey", he became immediately famous in the porn world of the late seventies with his starring role in Steve Scott's "Track Meet" - at that time, the largest budgeted gay film ever produced. Dillard was living in Hollywood, California, and his experiences there figured heavily in his autobiography, In the Flesh: Undressing for Success, published in 1997 by Barricade Books. Dillard's portraits have been drawn by Tom of Finland and Don Bachardy. Photos of Dillard have appeared in Playgirl and many gay publications.

Dillard is the author of seven books of homoerotic poetry, the first of which was published when he was 20. Dillard collected and published two anthologies of gay poetry, Between the Cracks, and A Day for a Lay: A Century of Gay Poetry. Many of Dillard's private letters, notes, and files were donated by Dillard to the Gay and Lesbian Archives of the San Francisco Public Library.

Twenty Nineteen Poems (1975)

Rosie Emissions (1978)

Notes From a Marriage (1983)

Waiting for the Virgin (1985)

Pagan Love Songs (1987)

The Naked Poet (1989)

Yellow Snow (1993)

In the Flesh: Undressing for Success (1997)

Between the Cracks (1997)

A Day for a Lay: A Century of Gay Poetry (1999)

Nocturnal Omissions -- A Tale of Two Poets (2011), co-authored with Eric Norris

1960 – John Galliano is a Gibraltar-born British fashion designer who was head designer of the French fashion companies John Galliano S.A. (1993 to April 2011), Givenchy (January 1996 to October 1996), and Christian Dior (October 1996 to March 2011).

He was born in Gibraltar to a Gibraltarian father, Juan Galliano, and a Spanish mother, Anita, and has two sisters. Galliano's father was a plumber. His family moved to England in pursuit of work when Galliano was six, and settled in Streatham, South London, before moving to Dulwich and later to Brockley. He was raised in a strict Roman Catholic family.

Galliano, who was shy and diffident, often spoke of his struggle to fit in. Recalling his early days, he once admitted: "I don't think people here understood where I was coming from." His mother, a flamenco teacher, would dress him in his "smartest" outfit even for a trip to the local shops. This, combined with his creative sensibilities, saw him frequently bullied at the London boys' grammar school he attended.

But he survived this to become one of the leading designers for French fashion houses, as well as creating his own.

On 25 February 2011, Dior announced that it had suspended Galliano following his arrest over an alleged anti-Semitic tirade in a Paris bar. The same day, Paris-based citizen journalism site Citizenside received video of Galliano on a similar rant in the same bar the previous December. In the video a drunk Galliano hurls anti-semitic rants at a group of Italian women and declares "I love Hitler... People like you would be dead. Your mothers, your forefathers would all be fucking gassed."

In 2009, Galliano received the French Legion of Honour, previously awarded to fashion luminaries such as Hubert de Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Azzedine Alaïa and Suzy Menkes. Under a decree signed by President Francois Hollande, the honor was revoked, due to the Paris Courts' decision that Galliano was guilty of making anti-Semitic remarks, which was published in France's official journal on Thursday 23 August 2012. Galliano no longer has the right to wear the French Legion of Honour medal.

Galliano shared his Paris home with his long-term boyfriend Alexis Roche, a style consultant. Galliano became a familiar figure on the streets of Le Marais, an area of Paris popular with gays — and also the city's Jewish community.

1969 – Colman Domingo is an American actor, writer and director born on this date. He gained acclaim for so many performances, and is a force to be reckoned with in the theater and film. His most recent role is in the revival of The Color Purple.

Domingo has played supporting roles in the films Lincoln by Steven Spielberg, Selma by Ava DuVernay, If Beale Street Could Talk by Barry Jenkins, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom by George C. Wolfe and Zola by by Janicza Bravo.

Domingo was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. His father is from Belize, and is from a Guatemalan family. Domingo attended Temple University, where he majored in journalism. Soon thereafter he moved to San Francisco, California, where he started acting, mainly in theatre productions.

Domingo starred as Mr. Franklin Jones, Joop, and Mr. Venus, in the critically acclaimed rock musical Passing Strange, which, after a successful 2007 run at The Public Theater, opened on Broadway on February 28, 2008. He received an Obie Award in spring 2008 as part of the ensemble of Passing Strange Off-Broadway and reprised his roles in the film version of Passing Strange, directed by Spike Lee, which made its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January 2009.

In 2010, Domingo's self-penned, one-man autobiographical play A Boy and His Soul premiered Off-Broadway at the Vineyard Theatre, for which he won a Lucille Lortel Award for Outstanding Solo Show. He was also nominated for a Drama Desk Award and a Drama League Award.

In 2015, Domingo began appearing in a recurring role on AMC's post-apocalyptic, zombie series Fear the Walking Dead, as a character named Victor Strand. In December 2015, it was announced that Domingo was promoted to series regular for Season 2 of the series.

In 2023, Domingo will play Bayard Rustin in the new biopic 'Rustin,' about the activist's life. Produced by Oscar-winning American Beauty producer Bruce Cohen and Higher Ground's Tonia Davis, Rustin also features an all-star cast including Chris Rock, Glynn Turman, Jeffrey Wright, Da'Vine Joy Randolph, and Audra McDonald, among others.

Domingo has been married to his husband, Raúl Domingo, since 2014

2017 – Justin Trudeau, on behalf of the Canadian Government, formally apologized to members of the LGBT community for actions the government took against thousands of workers in the Canadian military and public service in the Cold War era.

From the 1950s to the 1990s, thousands of federal workers were fired because of their sexuality as part of a "national security" purge. Some gay members of the Canadian Armed Forces were also discharged for what was termed "psychopathic personality with abnormal sexuality."

In June 2016, LGBT advocacy group Egale Canada released a report detailing the systemic discrimination and issued a number of recommendations, including that a formal apology be issued by Ottawa.

Ottawa also announced that the government has earmarked over $100 million to compensate LGBT civil servants whose careers were sidelined or ended because of their sexuality. 

Many pointed to the Cold War as the reason for the discrimination against LGBT individuals, with the RCMP and the military fearing gay and lesbian members could be open to blackmail by the Soviet Union.

"They were convinced that people could be blackmailed into selling secrets… that was the official party line adopted from McCarthyism in the States," Barry Deeprose, a prominent LGBT activist, said in 2005.

An RCMP unit was tasked with rooting out homosexual public workers, including diplomat John Wendell Holmes, who admitted his homosexuality and was quietly removed from public service in 1960 after being grilled by the Mounties.

The Canadian government went so far as to commission a Carleton University professor to develop a homosexuality test – a so-called "fruit machine."

In one test, subjects were shown pornographic images while cameras took pictures of their pupils to see if they dilated – the idea being that if their eyes dilated while looking at images of the same sex, it suggested excitement and therefore a same-sex attraction.

By the 1960s, the RCMP had a database of 9,000 "expected" lesbians and gay men working across the federal government. Sanctions for their sexuality included dismissal, demotion, denial of opportunities for promotion, being forced to live a double life and other forms of systemic discrimination, according to the 2016 Egale Canada report.

In 1969, the House of Commons voted 149-55 to pass an omnibus bill that, among other things, decriminalized homosexuality and allowed abortions under certain conditions.

"The view we take here is that there's no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation," Pierre Trudeau, then Canada's acting justice minister, said in 1967 when he first introduced the bill.

Despite homosexuality being removed from the Criminal Code, discrimination against LGBT military and public service members persisted for decades, particularly in the military.

A military directive specifically banning homosexuality in the ranks was passed in an overhaul of the system in 1976.

In August 1992, the Ontario Court of Appeals ruled that the failure to include sexual orientation in the Canadian Human Rights Act was discriminatory. The ban on LGBT individuals in the military was lifted in November that year.

In October 2016, the House of Commons defence committee voted unanimously for the Liberal government to order the military ombudsman to amend the service records of LGBT ex-military members who were given dishonourable discharges because of their sexual orientation.

[wizard-smut]

THE FOUNDATIONAL MYTHOLOGY OF THE SEXY WIZARD SCHOOL UNIVERSE

from the nonexistence beyond even entropy there sprang from nothingness a cosmos irradiated with magic, whose laws of physics were born with jellied bones, where the rubber of reality stretched with the slightest application of will. the kind of place where misadventures followed the strict moral guidance of 19th century children's fables.

A Shitty Place, by any measure

in one neglected corner of this vibrant universe there spun a planet full of sapient bipedal creatures whose primary concern centered on growing the biggest grasses imaginable. tall grass, wet grass, potato, they had it all.

then one day, one especially unpopular and bad-grass-growing hominid wandered into a weird cave in the side of Only-Bad-Dipshit-Live-Here Mountain.

unbeknownst to this hominid, whose name was Gug but was commonly referred to as Ugg (this is a cultural joke that doesn't translate directly) ten billion years prior a sentient shaft of rainbow light wasn't paying attention and slammed into mt onlybaddipshit, permanently trapping itself in a crystal geode.

well, let's just say Gug made a real Ugg of itself and decided to smash open the ominously glowing crystal wall at the back of a cave full of skeletons of Freaky Space Mammoths &c and other species unknown to Grass Hominids or anything else ever

so Ugg is bathed in scintillating hues, obviously, saturated with colors from out of space, primitive hominid brain awash in magickal powres, gates of perception blown open, yadda yadda yadda, cognizant of all space and time, angels dancing on the head of a pin, and he becomes a wizard

this is just what one DOES

but not JUST a wizard. oh ho ho no. an EVIL SPACE CAVEWIZARD. that is legally the worst kind, according to law. real kill on sight asshoeles.

so Gug, who immediately starts referring itself to Drakenhof Von Vilesmythe, flies out of the cave and starts going full Dresden on the grass hominids. he rains fire, casts lightning, rains snakes, most of his attacks were either weather or vermin-based, just really typical Ugg behavior.

he wipes out the grass hominid society in like, fifteen minutes. there were not a lot of them, and they generally lived under piles of trees, because they were so fixated on big grasses that they never invented architecture.

Drakenhof Von Vilesmythe went ahead and magicked himself up a real nice castle atop Mount Very Normal Crystals, and sat alone on his throne.

as all despots do, he got bored, and wandered into his workshop, where he went about inventing all kinds of new monsters and such. Dracowyverns, Fang Children, Flying Knives, white people, Sexy Elf's, basically the most foul line-up of villains the universe ever seen.

well the universe DID in fact seen, and responding to the laws &c of cosmic narrative functionality, rose up in protest of such evil, and created GOODMAN MCMANANUS, a powerfully Good Cavewizard, and lo they did battle.

they cast fireballs, firesnakes, thunderrats, fought each other in the rain on the side of a tower, took turns hurling each other off cliffs, just really made a day of it

anyway this fighting went on for Way Too Long. the minions and fell servitors got bored and eventually developed their own society independent of the wizard wars. it evolved to exactly feudal medieval european level, or at least what i imagine that was like.

sadly due to the world being a janked up mess after aeons and aeons of Wizard Combat, the heavy background magickal radiation ensured that a higher number than normal of these babies were born with the W-gene.

after getting their shit rocked and re-rocked immediately after unrocking itself, the creatures decided that the safest thing to do was build a giant school for the wizards to fuck around in and just let them do their own thing way over there.

and so, every day, when a denizen of Normalsville turned 18 and started developing Protagonist Thought, they would find their asses shipped off to....

THE SEXY WIZARD SCHOOL

oh also i forgot to mention that all the monsters and wizard servants and stuff, their genes all combined and mixed together and made creatures that look indistinguishable from modern humans. note to clarion workshop scouts, thats the kind of rich worldbuilding and social commentary you can expect to find here at tumblr dot com slash wizard smut.

ok thanks everyone have a good day and dont get diseases

#fiction #wizardcore #evil wizard #wizardblogging #wizard shit #wizard smut

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So, does anyone want a spreadsheet with every character Daniel Kitson has ever named? Because I’ve made a spreadsheet with every character Daniel Kitson has ever named. There are 198 of them.

That’s what I’ve been doing for the last couple of weeks, re-listening to all his shows with fictional characters so I could make a spreadsheet. I’ll be honest, when I started the project I thought it would be much smaller and more manageable than it turned out to be. You try picking apart where a character’s voice is coming from in a show with multiple unreliable and frequently narrators, characters inventing each other, confusing timelines, stand-up and songs and stories blending into each other, meta experimentation. The meta experimentation was the worst. I mean, it’s very good if you’re trying to have your mind blown by audacious theatre. It’s not so good if you’re trying to pin them down to a spreadsheet. I think I did fine.

It specifically lists named characters only, meaning I left out some major characters who have no names, ie. both Kitson and Key’s guys in Tree. Though on the other hand, I included some things that are can only extremely tenuously be called characters, just because they were given names. Like Isy Suttie’s car in the Christmas show. And various hypothetical people that characters in various shows invent. And one time in the play Mouse, when Kitson’s character (one of the two characters played by Kitson that interact with each other and have the exact same name because they’re different versions of each other, you see the problem in trying to spreadsheet this) just lists various first names and then says what he associates with those names, I included that too because technically it’s a name.

I don’t generally share my name on this site but I will say Tim Key has voiced characters in two different Kitson story shows, and in both of them, he had a love interest with my first name. My name appears three times – twice connected to Tim, once in a character named by Gavin, none of them are outright villains (I mean, let’s assume his date in Tree didn’t know he was married), so I come out all right. Some people don’t. There are a lot of bad guys named Brian. I think Brian is the most common villain name, followed by Barry. The most common hero/Kitson self-insert name is William. Followed by Benjamin, I think. More Claires than I'd noticed before putting this together. And a lot of characters where them sometimes going by one version of their name and sometimes going by another is significant to the narrative (again, this is a strong storytelling device but makes for irritating admin).

I caught a couple of characters where I think I know why he picked that name, but idle speculation is beneath us. Given the size of this spreadsheet and how long it took to put together, I think most names were chosen just because he'd already used every name he'd ever heard and was scrambling to find yet another one.

There are a few things missing from this spreadsheet. I'm pretty sure there are only two Daniel Kitson story shows I've never heard: A Made Up Story from 2003, and The Revenge of Heckmondwyke from 2008. A Made Up Story was from before he was as big a name so I think there were fewer people bootlegging him, and I've just never found a recording even though it was performed lots of times. Its two main characters are in my spreadsheet because I got their names off a review, but God knows how many other characters are missing.

Daniel Kitson does this thing where every once in a while he goes into Regent's Park with Gavin Osborn and does stand-up and a story show, and Gavin plays music during the story, and sometimes Gavin plays how own songs too, and for some reason those Regent Park nights are a part of the Kitson catalogue with which I'm particularly obsessed. It just think it's an amazingly cool thing, those little one-off nights in this cool theatre. I have "Go look at the Regent's Park theatre" on my list of things to do when I go to London this summer, as a pilgrimage to where history's taken place.

Anyway, The Revenge of Heckmondwyke was the story portion of the 2008 Regent's Park night, which I haven't heard recorded. However, the version of Impotent Fury of the Privileged that's on Kitson's Bandcamp page was recorded on that Regent's Park night, and I don't think he'd have recorded only the stand-up half of the night and not the story show, which means at least one Revenge of Heckmondwyke recording exists, Kitson must have it. He's just choosing not to share. Which is annoying, both because I want to hear that show, and because it's one of the few things standing between me and having a complete set of Kitson and Osborn in Regent's Park recordings (that, and the original Stories For the Starlit Sky from 2009).

I usually try to be slightly more discreet than this about the exact nature of my collection so maybe I'll take this post down in a bit, but I wanted to share at least temporarily because this took me 1.5 weeks and it's too big. Look at it, guys. Look how many characters there are. Why did I write down all those characters? There was no reason to write down all those characters. But there they are.

[n4talia-chaparro]

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Yeah hello I'm glad I had the opportunity to finish this garbage for once so hopefully I don't screw this up-

Reminder: I will make a next post for Cap cuz I don't wanna make it very long so-

Yippee but first...👇🏻 (1/2??)

Contains- Blood/gore (?), mention of murder (?), abuse???, cringe AU, poor grammar, etc.

🫀 || ꒷꒦︶🩸︶︶꒷꒦︶∪∪︶꒷꒦︶︶🩸︶꒷꒦ || 🫀

₊˚꒰🫁⸝⸝︰ 𝐆𝐏!𝐊𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐩 ┆ ⤿ 🧠 ⌗

✧ ┊• uhh I don't know what to put but he's a silly little bastard.

✧ ┊• He may be 5'8 or almost the same height as the original Krupp. Some of the students say he's bigger than a damn tree but that's not the case. Just a bit bigger or shorter compared to Mr. Meaner/Kenny and Mr. Ree/Toilette (?)

✧ ┊• In case anyone forgot, Krupp in this AU is a manipulative and aggressive person. At first, he might be neutral but eventually, he will slowly show his real colors. No matter what the victim does or says, Krupp will do anything to manipulate, gaslight, and make the victim miserable. Even if he seems "nice" or not, he shouldn't be trusted by a student or staff (especially if they are new to the school)

✧ ┊•His face can change when he's mad (well also snap and get more aggressive than ever.) He then realized that students will be more scared of him so he feels chill keeping the face like that (unless he needs to rest or pretend to be nice so he had to turn his face "normal" without letting no one see his terrifying face.) And goes to his voice too. His voice goes deep or glitchy.

✧ ┊• Krupp is a human in this au- the only reason why his face looks like that is because Melvin accidentally shot him with his new invention so um let me explain instead

Melvin's intention was to make a teacher smarter since the substitute teacher (Jerry) is getting on his nerves and didn't understand why he's working there so he built the "SmartyyChanger200" and decided to show it to his principal.

Krupp like a total fucking idiot he is in the damn show decided to grab it from Melvin's hands and wanted to see if it can heat up anything- Melvin's got mad and tried to get it back- it was like a silly ass tug of war except they were fighting over the invention and pulling it back and forth until it slipped out and Melvin accidentally pressed something that caused the SmartyyChanger2000 to shot his principal in the face. NOTHING bad happened to Krupp, he got unconscious by it, and idk what else. Melvin thought it didn't shoot him so he shrugged it off and left the office to test it on Jerry.

Krupp did NOT turn into a vampire like Jessica, or a random creature (or monster) that happened to some other people like Mr. Fyde and others. He simply woke up and thought he fall asleep on the floor.

And it took him a few weeks to turn him into a villain since his mind or well his "brain" was developing and functioning. And it was before he murder his first victim, Ms. Hurd. (Well I have spoiled the au for y'all)

- his IQ is similar to Melvin's except it's worst than smart. Aggressively smarter than an average staff so far. 🧍‍♀️

✧ ┊• He's a walking red flag ! ! (Pls be aware of that LMFAO💀💀)

✧ ┊• Not only does he change his face (or appearance) he is capable of breaking things. Whether it is wood, bricks, or any sort of material he will get through them just like he did on the 2nd episode of the 1st season 👁👁 and this motherfucker fits on the damn vent. Don't even ask me- um...I don't know how to explain the logic of this one. 🗿

✧ ┊• Unlike the show (well the original Mr. Krupp), this Krupp seems smart and knowledgeable. However, he does everything to avoid getting caught which it was a success for him.

✧ ┊•GP! Krupp has also developed an obsession with murder and cooking stuff. Although he's taking a break from guacamole and salami, he enjoys trying new things and using some of his "special ingredients" for the food. Of course, he even used the ingredients to serve the WHOLE school without letting them know what they are eating is human flesh and mea-  OH FUCK I MEAN UM very cool ingredients!! Um..yeah cool....???

Yeah so epic..umm GP!Krupp will always hide the ingredients and keep it a secret without letting a single student or staff know except for Melvin. He is forced to work with Krupp and knows exactly about the "special ingredients". 👁👁💦 and that's how he gets rid of the bodies.

And he does NOT eat human meat. I mean unless he wants to make a trip-tip roast for himself and get it from the body- (and using blood as a silly dip for the French fries who fucking knows -)

꒷︶໑꒦₊꒷꒥︶꒥꒷︶‧₊˚ଓ︶꒷꒷꒦꒥໑꒷੭︶︶꒥

✧ ┊• Although people would call him Benjamin or Benny, he prefers to be called Ben for short. But hey he still doesn't mind being called by his real name or any weird nicknames.

✧ ┊• GP!Krupp still has a soft spot for his nephew, Kipper. Our dear buddy Kipper is UNAWARE of his uncle's gruesome behavior, he simply wanted to visit him and GP!Krupp had to hide some corpses in his cellar and lock it in case his nephew tries to get in without his permission. He does not wanna upset and scare Kipper if he lets him witness the things he had done to the people.

✧ ┊• He hates everything that is around him, why of course just like the original Krupp. He hates children and stuff that is associated with "fun" but there are other things that he hates the most; loud sounds/noises and possums. It's not like he seems like a weakness or anything

✧ ┊• And speaking of weaknesses, he does have some that are strange but maybe silly such as:

- Loud noises? (air horn, kids laughing, giggling, and TV statics.)

- Bee sting

- Anything associated with "cuteness" and "adorable" themes

- Children (from kindergarten to 3rd grade)

"Is he really that scared of children? really?" Not really but when it comes to kids who are in kindergarten, it makes him sick in the stomach and personally scared- and there's a little good example

💕•example: Heidi

You may ask yourself what she has anything to do with this part. Well, you see, since Heidi is very small and childish like the other kids from kindergarten, somehow managed to make GP!Krupp more uncomfortable around the children. Sure, he also wanted to get rid of her to see Harold's reaction, but unfortunately, Heidi makes it more difficult and uneasy for GP!Krupp to kill her. She would also give him some small hitting, kicking, and punches when she's angry at him- soo GP!Krupp would easily give up and ignore her instead of killing her.

꒷︶໑꒦₊꒷꒥︶꒥꒷︶‧₊˚ଓ︶꒷꒷꒦꒥໑꒷੭︶︶꒥

✧ ┊• His relationship with others isn't that bad, some of the relationship (well friends or exes idfk)

- George and Harold: a disaster. He will end up killing them for sure

- Staff members: holy shit, I don't know! Krupp is aware one of them will backstab him and escape

- Toilette & Jerry: a pain in the fucking ass. Krupp seriously wanna fucking kill them so badly mostly Jerry. Jerry is the other reason why Krupp had enough of being patient meanwhile Toilette is a fucking scumbag to Krupp. I mean they have a valid reason to hate his guts but dear lord. Just them fighting seem silly and weird.

- Edith [1st ex]: OHHH....this is getting fire....ummm...- Krupp's 1st relationship wasn't terrible. Edith is kind and sweet but since Krupp fell for Ms. Yewh then they broke up but that doesn't mean they will be friends or anything. They will meet up again except Edith knows exactly what he did after Tara/Ms. Ribble explained the situation um shut.

-Ms. Yewh [2nd ex]: YIKES.. big ass dumpster fire. After breaking up with Edith, he found out Ms. Yewh and Toilette aren't together so uh Krupp took the time to date her for once- weeks or months has passed and they broke up. Oops. Which I don't know if Ms. Yewh will be next dead victim or the alive ex. Who knows. I don't wanna spill the info 💀

- Melvin: oh boy....this poor little bastard...damn... I would say his relationship with him isn't that good, I would say it's very toxic. Krupp ALWAYS sees him as a son to him but he enjoys harming him in the physical, verbal, and emotional ways to get his anger out. Sure Melvin may be an assistant or teacher's pet but he is more than that. A source of entertainment and a punching bag to his principal. cuz that's how his mom (Bernice) treated him when he was a kid and since Krupp sees Melvin like a son and not a student like he used to, probably he would do the same to him, giving Melvin trauma and PTSD on purpose (haha um get it? Mother and son moment? No? Ok, that was too far my bad.)

🧠 || ꒷꒦︶🦴︶︶꒷꒦︶∪∪︶꒷꒦︶︶🦴︶꒷꒦ || 🧠

✧ ┊• He cares about his job, image, and reputation a lot. If a staff member witnes a tragic event and tries to spread the information, GP!Krupp will eliminate the staff. And you may ask how will he do that. Simple MURDER- *COUGH* FUCK *COUGH* - damn too many gory eliminations? Yeah, how unexpected and silly of him.

✧ ┊• He despite Jerry a lot with a burning passion. Even tho he didn't have the chance to kill him but still. He's still thinking about getting rid of him as well once he gets rid of George and Harold.

✧ ┊• SUSSY SUS AMOGU- I MEAN I MEAN. He makes sure to keep everything hidden- ummm he still wants his rule book to be safe so uh yeah he still owns the damn "safe".

✧ ┊• "Fuck you, I can't stop it's so satisfying!!!" -GP!Krupp

✧ ┊•Like I said GP!Krupp would see Melvin as a son and still treats him terribly. But deep down inside he has a soft spot for him as well. Since Melvin is his assistant or his son figure, he always teaches him some stuff in case if GP!Krupp gets himself arrested or ends up disappearing from his life.

Teaching the kid some stuff like:

- how to use the surveillance camera

- drawing symbols and codes (?)

- attacking/harming others

- hunting random people or animal (which went fucking wrong cuz Melvin bit Jessica's arm and ripped her skin from her arm like a fucking animal which made Krupp proud as hell.)

Which of course GP!Krupp doesn't regret doing that, after all he ALWAYS wanted to raise Melvin like he wad his son so he took the whole "Fuck Adoption center" into a whole level and kept Melvin with him without letting hid parents know.

And of course. Sometimes he has to keep his eyes on him but hey! He knows what to do with him when he gets the chance to adopt him in the new way possible- even tho he might end up using him for his gruesome tasks or silly father-and-son moment stuff..👁👁

꒷︶໑꒦₊꒷꒥︶꒥꒷︶‧₊˚ଓ︶꒷꒷꒦꒥໑꒷੭︶︶꒥

✧ ┊• what the dog doi- I MEAN AHEM. GP!Krupp is pan *cough* *cough* or poly

✧ ┊• He makes random codes for fun just to show signs that he's messing with you. Yep he does troll everyone so don't expect him to do something unquestionable.

✧ ┊• "I AM MORE THAN A GOD...A FUCKING MOUNTAIN! HOOGA!"

Goofy ahh move

That's all pls don't cancel me this took me 4 days to make this garbage 🗿🗿 grrahhh-

#tw bl0od #captain underpants #the epic tales of captain underpants #captain underpants au #mr krupp #gp!krupp #cu tbgdotgp au #melvin sneedly #heidi hutchins

[astraltrickster]

Thing is, AI is a nuanced topic. Most big tech advances are. I think the only one I've EVER been super close to that was almost 100% cut-and-dry was NFTs and the "metaverse" sucking ass, and even THAT...well, the former at least originated from an extremely poorly thought-out implementation of a potentially good idea (i.e., an anti-attribution loss registry to counter the damage of unsourced reposting, since convincing people outside of artist communities that YES that shit is rude as fuck BECAUSE it has the potential to be actually damaging is like talking to a wall).

There are good uses of it. There are horrible uses of it. We made the necessary breakthroughs in calculation at one of the WORST possible times, socioeconomically speaking. That doesn't mean we can unmake them. It's putting nearly every single common ethics violation in the world of tech as a whole into the spotlight, from the lack of protections against datamining to the abuse of outsourced labor in moderation work and much more. It didn't invent any of them, and in fact is BETTER about some of them than many other things we just let slide (and shouldn't). Technology marches on, in this form or any other. It changes industries and workflows. It CAN be for the better. The BOSSES always push to make it for cheaper and worse. This isn't the first time it's happened - not even in your lifetime if you didn't have to lie about your age to get here - and it will not be the last. It's just the most visible relative to its absolutely horrendous timing.

I'm in agreement with...some of the more technically-oriented circles I work with irl that it can be genuinely useful. I PERSONALLY do some hobby work in trying to make it more human-positive, for both accessibility and safety, as well as where that overlaps with just...fun. I'm in agreement with both the popular attitude among actors and commercial artists that the way corporations want to use it is absolutely fucking disgusting, and the recognition that a lot of people out there (especially on the fucking bird site) are being total fucking assholes with it. I'm in agreement with labor organizers that we need to place contractual and cultural limits on how it can and should be used. It's a complex subject!

Because of that complexity, I don't mind AT ALL if someone comes to a different conclusion about using it for small-time funsies than I do.

I DO mind when people resist the shitty usage via reactionary sentiment ("this tech is LAZY and DEGENERATE and ANYONE who uses it for ANY reason is a GREEDY ENTITLED SMOOTHBRAIN PARASITE!" - let's play "count the dogwhistles" btw!), blatant ableism ("there's NO ONE in the WORLD who's SO disabled they ACTUALLY need this to help with anything from basic communication to self-expression, or if there are it doesn't COUNT because the COMPUTER did it, not THEM!"), misinformation about how it works (e.g., the copy-paste myth - if that was how it worked ChatGPT papers wouldn't be absolutely full of fictitious citations and AI hands wouldnt look Like That, you realize this, right?), missing the forest for the trees (please do call out asshole usage of AI but not to the point of just forgetting that people were stealing other artists' WIPs to "finish" and making hoaxes and deepfakes and lean-staffing and cheating people out of credits LONG before we had this way to do it and they WILL continue to do so with OTHER new tech as well, an asshole will be an asshole no matter what tools they have; fighting the tech instead of the assholery will only let it happen again as soon as the method changes), using frameworks to fight that asshole usage that are ACTIVELY counterproductive (if it's legally declared that using your work as less than ONE BILLIONTH of my starting point, or developing a style too similar to yours, is infringing on your copyright, this will have WAY more negative impacts than positive; I sure hope the author of your favorite thing isn't the type to go full Anne Rice or JKR; plus even when ignoring the assistive usage of AI as we very much should not, GPT detectors throw a lot of false positives at non-native English speakers, so crackdowns against its usage end up hurting a lot of very vulnerable people far more than they hurt the people using it to do actual tangible harm), or just plain using it as an excuse to bully random other people who individually have about as much power to impact The Issue as dropping a soggy pea on the floor does.

...I also mind when people go full There Is No War In Ba Sing Se about it, but that's not a problem I encounter as much here on tumblr.

#tech #ai tag #current events #serious tag

[searchingforserendipity25]

⚓️ and 🤔 for the silm ask game!

-@thelordofgifs

Hi @thelordofgifs, your asks have brightened up my dash a lot today, so double thanks!

⚓️ Pick a Silm ship to go down with. What is compelling about their dynamic?

Currently going a little bit crazy about Bëor/Finrod! Everything about them in fact, from the meeting that is the heart of every story about the wild strange folk of the woods to the love that remains.

Finrod is the first elf to meet every human experience, the first to look at the short, brutal, boring, joyful, silly, brave lives of men, the different shape their courage takes in adversity, and fall in love with it. Also with Balan! Both at exactly the same time.

And he never falls out of love, and he keeps loving him after death and rebirth, and neither himself nor the world will never be as strange and precious and delightful to anyone, including in his own eyes, as he was to Balan who loved in a way that was entirely foreign, and knew him better than all his kin for sharing the same deep and encompassing hunger and commitment to know. Even when understanding was difficult, even when to conceive it they had to invent new words in each other’s strange language. So. That's fun!

But also: the getting-to-know-each-phase of it all, lasting well after Bëor dies, yes, but in the moment too. Their cultures are incredibly different, but the literal differences are also to be considered. Finrod keeps turning back while walking huge hills to see what the problem is, sword in hand, but Balan is just sitting in a rock eating cheese ready to complain that at this pace he’s getting a heart atack and has to explain what that is to a horrified elf prince. Etc. They're sweet! They're living the first contact love story of all times! They care enough about each other that it ripples through history long after the tree under which they met rots and dies, and the continent where they are both buried sinks, and the stories people tell of them are sang in languages they will never hear.

🤔 Tell us one of your favorite Silm headcanons. Can be one that's out in the wild or a personal one!

Mm. Hard to choose! I like the idea that Fingon is older than Maedhros, actually. Not by a lot! Just enough for Fëanor never to forgive him for it.

Between Nerdanel and Feanor’s commitment to their crafts and journeys (and Fëanor’s commitment to Mother Issues) and Fingolfin’s determination to fulfil official princely duties, the birth of the heir of Finwe is very controvercial It gives the viability of kingship lines in Beleriand and the laws of inheritance extra spicy if the birth order of the first-born heir of the sons of the King does not correspond with the direct descent.

Maedhros is still the heir by the most orthodox Valinorian costum, ironically enough. But many among the Noldor prefer the Cuivénnen approach of 'first come first served/first born most likely to be able to hold out against the Enemy and any stray bears or other threars against the community'. Fingon, however - Fingon, who Sang the floes in the Ice to stillness until even the weakest had crossed and fought fell leviathans in the darkest dark - Fingon, whose rescue of Maedhros would be as laudable to the Tatyar as the Avari for a reason. He's a prince from an old time walking in the old land, and if everyone knows it, none know it better than Maedhros.

There are many arguments on lore thrown around both sides of Mithrim. The PR campaign to make the revoking of that ancient tradition be accepted when he cedes the kingship is Lalwen’s best victory for her brother's camp and the worst gift she ever gives Fingolfin.

#ask #thank you! this was a lot of fun <3 #thelordofgifs

[f-ferrari-forever]

(Chain of Thorns spoilers)

So, for Chain of Thorns, I applied my "spoilers are a way to see if it's worth reading" method. My conclusion, sadly, is that it isn't. While my expectations were heavily related to Fairstairs, I came out of all this posts and experts reading feeling like my least favourite characters are now my favourites. And they got the worst ending ever.

Grace and Christopher were different than any relationship Cassie has ever written. The love triangle was old news. This ace-coded, deep and gentle relationship was new. And it never even got to fully happen. Don't even get me started on that cursed family tree. Is there evn an updated version? If there is, I couldn't find it.

Even more so, please, somebody write a fix-it-fic. I can't phantom that the character with the most tragic backstory of the series (it's not Matthew, I was wrong. It's always been Grace) didn't get a happy ending. Sure, I assume the idea is that Grace has Henry to rely on, Lucie, Jesse, even Gabriel and Cecily maybe. She is very likely to have a wonderful career, and I, again, assume the idea is she will become an Iron Sister, thrieve in the sisterhood and invent many cool things. A happy ending doesn't mean a relationship, of course. But you're literally telling me that having the girl who lost her parents and got horribly abused by her adoptive mother lose the one person who made her feel seen and accepted for who she really was isn't the biggest bullshit ever? They could have been best friends, that's it. Doesn't change the fact that he understood her on a level nobody else did. And she lost that. He lost that. Every other happy ending fades away compared to this tragedy.

#chot spoilers #grace blackthorn #grace cartwright #christopher lightwood #chain of thorns #the last hours #apologizes to the people who follow this blog for f1 and figure skating #had to rant about books for a hot minute #i'm genuinely upset about this