#so at this point it's spite art in more than one way

[marypsue]

There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also...making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY. 

Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life. 

The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it. 

But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do. 

The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose? 

It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them. 

Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards. 

So. Paint that t-shirt. 

(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)

#this post brought to you by: me being so so sad about zoomers having crafts and Making Thing With Your Hands Badly stolen from them #also by me listening to a radio show on How The Sony Walkman Changed Music And Where It's Going Next #ready for the san andreas fault to open up and swallow silicon valley whole forever folks #anyway. followers i am getting down off the cafeteria table now.

[ninzied]

and that's how it works

a co-worker au. based on the prompt: kiss out of spite. ~2.4k.

Alex can’t stand him from the start.

He tries not to actively dislike any co-workers, as a general rule. It takes effort, and time, neither of which he wants to spend on this guy—unless said work has been affected, which, Alex has to admit that it hasn’t.

But there’s something about him that rubs Alex the wrong way the moment they get introduced.

He’s hard-working, Alex supposes, and the quality of the work isn’t lacking. He’s punctual, and to-the-point in his emails. None of those things are an issue. He does make a habit of helping himself to Alex’s office supplies, but a few missing staples and running out of printer paper don’t exactly justify a grudge.

The guy’s personality is, objectively, annoying. He has the worst taste in ties, which to Alex says a lot, and he can’t go more than five minutes without alluding to his pedigree in some way (Alex knows this because he and Nora have made a drinking game out of it at work functions).

Still, it doesn’t explain the weird surge of resentment he gets every time he looks at the guy. And not understanding it might be the most annoying part of all.

He just wishes he knew why.

.

Alex works in the legal department, but the coffee’s way better in HR down the hall, so most mornings he’s using their break room. Most mornings, and at lunchtime too, and in the afternoons more than once until Nora starts cutting him off, which. Fair.

Apparently he’s not the only one who’s discovered HR’s superior coffee, though, because he’s always there too, and always at the same time as Alex. Seriously, can he not? It’s bad enough that they share a cubicle. Now Alex has to suffer the insult of watching him fucking microwave his coffee like some kind of sociopath, too?

“Are you following me?” Alex demands to know one morning, a little ridiculously. He’s aware that HR is not the best place to be throwing accusations around, but he’s kind of had it with this guy. “Because—”

At that exact moment, the door is opening, and Henry Fox is walking into the room.

“Oh, hey,” says Alex.

Henry glances at him the way he always does, that is to say, a little bemused as to what Alex is doing here. But Henry had been his point person when he was hired six months ago, so he must know Alex works here, right? Besides, he’s been coming to drink their coffee every day of those past six months now, and he knows Henry knows this because their breaks usually overlap and the way Henry barely says two words to him half the time is starting to feel kind of personal.

“It’s Alex,” says Alex, because, well, just in case.

“Yes, I’m aware,” says Henry. After a beat that’s long enough to get awkward, he says, “Err. Right then.”

And then he smiles and waves at Hunter, who isn’t even supposed to be here either, and walks over to take the seat Hunter has saved him like they’re all in fucking high school.

Hunter says something smarmy about a new art gallery or what-the-fuck-ever he went to last night, using a slightly too-loud voice that’s clearly meant to be overheard. Alex grits his teeth.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to go,” says Henry. “What did you think?”

Alex scowls. Fuck, he fucking hates Hunter.

.

“So how’s the transfer going?” asks Hunter one day.

Alex jerks involuntarily and splashes hot coffee all over his hand. “Motherfucker,” he says, and then, because his filter is fully shot now anyway, he glances over at Henry. “You’re transferring? Like, jobs?”

“Oh. Um. No. Departments,” says Henry. Alex supposes that’s all he’s getting—four whole words must be some kind of record—but then Henry continues. “To editing. Starting first thing next week.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Cool. That’s…a big move.” Literally. That’s, like, whole floors away. He opens the freezer door with his good hand, and wonders what the coffee tastes like up there in editing, if it would be weird to find out sometime. He grabs a fistful of ice.

“Yes,” Henry is saying. “It will be quite the change, and I—wait. Sorry.” He stands abruptly, and Alex stares in surprise as Henry comes over and stops right in front of him. “Please put the ice down.”

“Um,” says Alex. “O…kay?”

“You should use lukewarm water,” says Henry. “Cool, at best. For your hand.”

“Oh,” says Alex. “Right. Thanks.” He turns to the sink, feeling weirdly aware of the fact that Henry is still standing there. “It’s too bad,” Alex says before Henry can decide to sit down next to Hunter again. “Kind of a big loss for HR.”

Henry’s brows knit back together. “Is it?”

Alex shrugs. “To my knowledge, no one else personally escorts new employees to their cubicles on the first day of work. Like you did with Hunter here, for example.” He levels Henry with a grin. “I was there when you showed him around, in case you don’t remember.”

Henry’s expression is inscrutable. “I do,” he says.

Alex makes a point to not look away. “Guess that wasn’t a thing back when I started.”

“Ah,” says Henry. He’s flushing for some reason now. “No, I suppose not.”

Alex considers him. He can’t decide if Henry’s playing dumb, or if he really doesn’t remember that he’d been the one to help hire Alex. Then he decides he doesn’t care, because both options make him feel like something on the bottom of Hunter’s shoe, which he hates.

“Think I’m gonna head back.” Alex looks expectantly at Hunter, who only lifts his mug like he’s still planning on being a while. Fucking fine.

He can still see the two of them through the glass pane in the door when Nora walks by with a stack of folders.

“You okay?” she asks, in a tone that says she’s guessed the answer.

“Fucking no,” says Alex anyway. “What are they even doing? Talking?”

Nora sneaks a peek through the window. “Appears so,” she deadpans. “Talking in the break room. Unbelievable.”

“I know, right?” Alex scowls, then realizes he’s left without his coffee, which makes him scowl even harder.

Nora sighs, then slips her free arm through his. “Let’s walk.”

“Do you think Hunter likes him?” asks Alex. Because—not that he’s spent a lot of time on this—Alex thinks that Hunter does, and nothing is worse than the thought of Henry liking him back because he doesn’t know any better.

Maybe Alex should say something.

Nora is looking sideways at him. Alex isn’t sure why. “I think what Hunter likes is people with a pedigree,” she says. “Anyway, what’s not to like? Henry’s a snack.”

“What?” says Alex. Objectively, Henry looks a bit like an Adonis, but, “That is so beside the point. And just because Hunter’s like Harvard royalty or whatever doesn’t give him the right to come in here and trick people into liking him when—”

“When you were here first?” Nora supplies.

“What?” Now Nora is really missing the point. “This has nothing to do with me, or with Henry. I just meant, like, you know. In general.”

“Right,” says Nora. “I must have misunderstood.”

.

Alex keeps going back to the break room, of course. The coffee’s still better, and he can keep bothering Nora even though she’s transferring soon too (to marketing two floors down, the traitor). None of those things have changed just because Henry is no longer there every day.

The one thing that does change, Alex notices with a dark kind of satisfaction, is that Hunter does not go back to the break room. In fact, he starts bringing his own coffee each morning (Starbucks, which seems very on-brand). If anything, Alex only has more reason now to escape to HR and not spend any more time around Hunter than necessary.

About a week after Henry’s transfer, Alex realizes he’s used the last of the break room’s cinnamon. Again. Goddamn it, he thinks. He’s just spent the morning in back-to-back meetings, he’s getting his coffee hours later than usual, and now this?

He rifles through the cupboards for a second and then a third time just in case there's a rogue bottle somewhere. “Fuck me,” he mutters.

“What’s the occasion?” comes a voice from the door, and Alex turns to find Henry leaning against it. His arms are crossed, and he’s doing that chin-tilty thing that apparently means Alex has zero control over what comes out of his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Alex blurts.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “I could’ve been asking you the same thing for the past six months or so, but I haven’t.” He uncrosses his arms and comes over. “Would you believe me if I said I came here for the coffee?”

“No,” says Alex, with absolute certainty. “You don’t drink coffee.”

Henry blinks. “I could,” he argues after a moment, then straightens a little. “In fact, maybe I planned to start today.”

“Uh huh.” Alex gestures for him to have at the machine. “Do you even know how to use it?”

“Can’t be that difficult,” says Henry. He gives the machine a dubious look, and Alex doesn’t mean to but he starts to laugh.

“Here, I got it. Was about to make some for myself anyway.”

“Ah.” Henry looks abashed suddenly. Even the tips of his ears have turned pink. “Suppose you’ll be wanting this, then.” He pulls a ground cinnamon bottle from his pants pocket.

Alex shakes his head in disbelief. He could actually kiss Henry right now. “How did you—?”

“Well, you were running low last I was here,” says Henry, like that’s a totally normal thing to have noticed when Alex has never seen him touch the spice rack once. “Figured you'd be out by now, so I nicked some from the break room upstairs. No one’s been using it there anyway.”

The shock on Alex’s face makes him backtrack. “Sorry,” he says, flushing an even deeper pink now. “I—didn’t know you’d be here. You’re usually, um. Earlier. I can return it, if you’d like.” He says all this in a rush.

“No, it’s great,” Alex says emphatically. “Don’t you dare take it back.” He’s still staring a little, but that can’t be helped. Henry knows how he likes his coffee. And Henry had planned to restock the cinnamon without Alex ever knowing.

Henry clears his throat, looking around them. “You didn’t bring Hunter with you today,” he notes.

“No,” says Alex immediately. “God, no. And I don’t bring him anywhere, he just. Shows up. Honestly, I can’t stand the guy.” Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh, thank Christ,” Henry says, looking immensely relieved. “Now that I don’t work in HR anymore, can I just say how little I enjoy his company?”

This is way better news than when Henry had first reached out to Alex with his offer letter and starting salary. He grins. “You can. In fact, please say more.”

Henry looks rueful. “I really shouldn’t.”

“It’s just that—” Alex sobers a little. “He was the only person you seemed willing to talk to.”

“It was easier, for me.” Henry takes a breath. “I feel less shy around people whose opinion of me doesn’t matter as much.” He pauses, something meaningful in the way he looks sidelong at Alex now. “I do want to be better about it.”

Alex nods, considering this. He tries hard not to smile. Probably not hard enough. “I can work with that.”

.

“You do realize neither of you work in this department,” says Nora, pulling food from the fridge.

Henry sips the tea Alex has just made him. Coffee, turns out, had been a lost cause. They’re both leaning against the counter, elbows not-quite-touching but getting closer to it every day, by Alex’s estimation.

“Do any of us, at this point?” Henry muses.

Nora shrugs. “Fair.”

“Just don’t tell You Know Who,” says Alex.

“Who’s You Know Who?” Hunter asks from the doorway. He has a confused smile on his face as he looks from Henry to Alex back to Henry again. Normally the sight of Hunter fills Alex with the most profound irritation, but now he’s feeling kind of pleased.

That’s right, he thinks smugly at Hunter: Henry is mine.

Huh. Suddenly things make a lot more sense now.

“Hey, did you get my email about the museum opening this Friday?” Hunter asks Henry, and Alex bristles instantly. Did Hunter not get the look Alex just gave him?

“Ah,” says Henry awkwardly, and it would be endearing if he didn’t also look so deeply uncomfortable. His awkwardness now is so different from the bashful kind of awkward he used to be around Alex; honestly, Alex can’t believe he’d never been able to tell between the two until now. “Actually, I’m—”

“Going,” says Alex, “already. With me.”

Henry looks at him in happy surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Alex says firmly. And then, because he likes how dumbstruck Hunter looks right now, and because Henry doesn’t pull away when Alex puts an arm around his shoulders and he really, really likes that too, he does the only thing left that makes sense to him, which is to lean in and kiss Henry. He kind of feels like he might die when Henry kisses him back.

Fuuuuuuck.

Henry’s eyes are still closed when Alex leans back. He’s dimly aware that Nora has shooed Hunter out and closed the door behind them. He’s more acutely aware of how Henry licks his lips, then opens his eyes with an oddly vulnerable expression and says, “Alex, please tell me you didn’t just kiss me for Hunter’s benefit.”

“What? No. I mean—not exactly.” Fuck. Why can’t he use only the words that he needs? “The answer’s still no, but I might’ve used it as an excuse if I’d kissed you like two weeks ago. But that’s not why I kissed you just now, and it’s not why I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Oh, you think you’re going to kiss me again, do you,” Henry says with a hint of a smile, lifting his chin in a kind of challenge that Alex does not intend to back away from.

“One-hundred-percent,” he says, then pauses. “Unless you plan on reporting me to HR.”

“Honestly,” says Henry, “I might have to report you if you don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Alex says, very seriously, and he pulls Henry back in.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrbedit #rwrbsource #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #usernuria #iuserzoe #userveronika #usersteen #chrissiewatts

[asliceofzosan]

in which Sanji is in Shells Town when Zoro eats the rice ball off the floor

It isn't often that Zeff's plans to get rid of him involve actually making Sanji leave the Baratie on a supply run (mostly because they never work. Sanji always comes back with more produce than the budget allows for which pisses the old geezer even more). But today, he was persistent that he go all the way to Shells Town. Fucking Shells Town. It isn't exactly the first place Sanji would think of when wanting quality ingredients.

However, if there's anything Sanji is, it's that he's stubborn. He'll comb through every market stall if he has to. He's coming back to the Baratie with three kilos of overpriced bluefin tuna if only to raise Zeff's blood sugar out of spite. Zeff raised a brat. So he's going to act like one.

Disembarking off of his boat, he makes a beeline first for a reputable restaurant in town. Cooks know what cooks want. He'd rather shave off time by asking a fellow chef where are the best places to get supplies. A few lovely ladies point him in the direction of a well-loved little restaurant at the edge of town and he each gives them a kiss on the back of their hand as a thank you.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances, my angels." He says with a wink. Both girls only give him blank stares and walk away from him. He still sighs dreamily as they soon fade from view. It's a lot better than getting hit in the head.

He walks ahead to the restaurant, finding it a little crowded with a couple marines. No matter. Sanji isn't exactly known by face around the East Blue. He begrudgingly understands now why Zeff doesn't want to go here and instead forced Sanji onto his sailboat by himself.

With an irritated flick of his hair, he strides into the restaurant, sitting at a table near the window so he could light a quick cigarette before asking for the chef.

"We already have our order—"

"No. More food is better! Gotta feed the brain!"

Sanji's ears pick up the conversation in the table next to him as naturally as he does breathing. With the amount of times Zeff makes him wait tables instead of actually cooking in the kitchen, he's become skilled in the art of being a gossip. Tie him up in the middle of a marine base for admitting that, he doesn't care. There's only so much one can do to keep themselves entertained.

"We have to figure out a way to get inside the base."

"Luffy, I don't think that's a good idea–"

"It's not a good idea because I don't have a plan yet!"

"Well, what's your plan?"

"..."

"Luffy..."

"I'm getting there!"

Sanji chuckles. Whoever this Luffy kid is, he sure sounds interesting.

But before he could get another slice of their conversation, a commotion at the bar piques his interest even more. He uncrosses his legs, sitting up a little straighter, and watches as a blond man in a suit scolds a girl for running into him, calling her stupid and mocking her.

Sanji quirks an eyebrow at him. No matter what, no man should speak to a little girl that way.

"You dropped my food."

This time, a man with green hair catches his attention and with a quick glance, Sanji sees that there is smushed up rice balls on the floor by the blond's feet. Sanji sees red immediately. He's just about to go over there and give the guy a piece of his mind when the green haired man kneels down, grabs a glob of dirty riceball, and puts it into his mouth.

Sanji tunnel visions on the way his lips move, slowly chewing, savoring the otherwise spoiled riceball in his mouth like it's the most delectable piece of food he's ever eaten. The whole restaurant watches with bated breath, but none held tightly in his chest as much as Sanji's is. The man scrapes every grain of rice off of the floor, licking the remaining traces off his fingers.

He doesn't know it yet, but Sanji's heart has spilled out of his chest, and is now in the hands of a dirty green haired swordsman. With each bite he takes of the sullied riceball, the more Sanji's soul is sucked out of his body and placed into a state of near heavenly revelation.

Then the swordsman picks up the plate and offers the other riceball to the irritated blond man across from him.

"Now you eat one and apologize to the girl."

Sanji doesn't know what happens to his heart because the aching in his chest feels like he's out of breath. Maybe he's dying. It feels a lot like it because suddenly Sanji genuinely has forgotten how to breathe in this moment.

It gets even worse when the fight breaks out. The man barely even breaks a sweat. In any other circumstance where there is a fight, Sanji would go right in and make sure none of the dishes fall to the floor. But it seems that even then, Sanji's interference isn't needed.

Because the man's hits are calculated, careful despite the rough and tumble of the fight. He barely even gets his swords out. And he, Sanji notices with a bright smile, makes sure none of the tables get hit. He contains it all in the small space in front of the bar.

The final nail in the coffin is when he takes a giant swig out of his mug, shakes it a bit to see if there's any more drink inside, and casually chucks it at an oncoming marine and knocks him out cold.

Now Sanji is used to falling in love easily with beautiful women. All they have to do is smile at him and he'll be on his knees for them. He has experience in that department.

But what is Sanji supposed to do when a brutish man with a kind heart glances at him briefly before taking the other riceball in his hand and shoving it in his mouth?

Sanji thinks that this is how he falls in love with a man.

His plate is wiped clean before he hands it back to the little girl, who looks up at the man with stars in her eyes.

Sanji figures that maybe the way he's staring at the man isn't too far off from how she's looking at him.

Sanji comes back to the Baratie with no supplies and an earful from Zeff that doesn't register in his brain.

His mind instead is filled with just the memory of the green haired man, his lips pursing ever so slightly around the riceball in his mouth, and the smallest smile he gives the little girl as he thanks her for the food.

Sanji wonders if he'll ever see him again.

He learns how to make different kinds of rice balls in the meantime.

---

A/N: did somebody say sanji would fall in love with zoro if he saw him eat food off the floor? say no more !!

EDIT: part two, debt and doing dishes is up!

#zosan #one piece live action #opla #niki's fics: the riceball incident #WELL THE BRAINROT WAS REAL AND TUMBLR ACCIDENTALLY DELETED HALF OF THIS #pls let me know if yall want this continued bc brain go brrrr #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece #roronoa zoro x vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #fic series: it all started with a dirty rice ball

[wee-chlo]

I'm rereading Harry Potter and it's baffling how people just... pretend Snape was a completely different person than who he actually was?

Granted, Alan Rickman's Snape and Book Snape are two genuinely different people, to the point that I think Movie Snape would be mildly disgusted by Book Snape. Movie Snape came off more as someone who was angry and spiteful to a select few for reasons that ranged from Understandable to Irrationally Petty, but generally very grim and stern, with a good heart beneath it all. Book Snape is a piece of shit.

Movie Snape doesn't have the same cruelty as Book Snape: his targeting of anyone other than Harry is framed in a more slapstick way and his teaching isn't neary as abusive. Neville being terrified of him doesn't have the same implicit showcasing of Snape being abusive but rather Snape being stern and unforgiving while Neville is meek and needs positive reinforcement to flourish.

Movie Snape is stoic, deadpan. I saw a clip of Rickman on YouTube and either he, a commenter, or both noted that a touchstone of Rickman's performance for Snape was that he didn't raise his voice. Not so in the books, where Snape's described several times loosing his temper and screaming, even shrieking. Snape is terrifyingly volatile in the books, in contrast to the movies where even at his most furious, most emotional, he remains in control of himself.

Book Snape is, unambiguously, just a bad person. Not just a bad teacher, a bad PERSON. He is a small, bitter, petty bully who shouldn't be anywhere near children, and honestly Dumbledore letting him near children is probably more of an indictment of Dumbledore's character than the fact that he used to be a wizard supremacist.

And to be clear, while teenage Snape isn't AS bad as adult Snape by virtue of being a teenager... he was also just Not Good. He ran around with Wizard Nazis. Lily called him out on that, on the fact that he was clearly ready and rearing to join Voldemort, that he used Dark Magic on other students alongside his death eater buddies, etc.

James and Co were little shits who teased and picked on students. But Remus and Sirius made a point that Snape and James had a uniquely, mutually hostile relationship. Remus and Sirius state directly that ultimately, one of the primary reasons James targeted Snape was because Snape was "up to his eyeballs in the Dark Arts and James hated the Dark Arts".

I've seen people use the fact that James never apologized to Snape as an indictment of James' character but like... when and why would he have apologized?

Genuinely, I think if Snape had made a good faith effort to be a better person BEFORE the death of the Potters, James may have apologized. But Snape at the time of James' death was a literal wizard nazi and honestly? I can't see him feeling terribly bad about bullying him, or at least not feeling obliged to apologize. And even if he had, how would he have done so? Send an owl to wizard nazi HQ?

But I think the thing that made me bristle the most about the books was the gaslighting that happened in book 6.

Remus is... going through it in that book, fair enough, but when Harry is talking to him about his suspicious, he gently accuses Harry of "inheriting James' and Sirius' prejudice" and being "determined to hate [Snape]". Like.... I'm sorry, but did Remus get hit in the head? Are we supposed to just casually forget EVERYTHING SNAPE HAS SAID AND DONE TO HARRY IN THE LAST FIVE BOOKS?!

If anyone came into it with an inherited prejudice and a determination to hate, it was Snape.

Justice for Book 6 Harry, everyone's treating him like he's bonkers but he's right.

#anti snape #hp spoilers #pro marauders

[ashdreams2023]

Hello! Can u do one where Snape and student reader has a platonic bantering relationship? Like Snape favors them a lot and students and teachers clearly notices but Snape and Student likes to go back and forth with petty insults. Kinda like making the other students and professors confused if Snape actually favors them or not. But when someone insults the other they would passionately defend them. Something along the lines of "only I can insult Snape/Student" It can be like Snape is complaining abt Student to McGonagall then suddenly McGonagall agrees and adds her complaints making Severus defend student suddenly. Or when Student is complaining to her friends abt how awful Snape is but when her friends insult him she also defends him. HAHAHAHA i don't know if it makes sense so I understand if u can't make it lol.

Git

Platonic severus snape x reader

Severus didn’t like when students disrespected him, just because he’s young didn’t mean he wasn’t worthy out it.

That’s one of many reasons he’s so strict, students just learn to stay out of his way like that but then again there we’re always the ones who just didn’t get the hint.

And one of them was you.

Honestly you were bound to be trouble the second you opened your mouth in his classroom, left him gritting his teeth and furiously angry at the house you were from.

You were blunt, annoying and hotheaded.

"But Professor just one last chance! You need too you know this was not my best performance!"

"Sounds like a you problem."

It would be like that then after some more nagging he would give in because you we’re starting to give him a headache and he couldn’t give you detention for asking for help.

At one point he just gave up with your tactics all together and what made it worse was that you kept your promises, you did your work, participated in class, and regardless of the back talk and half assed comments at each other you were not, dare he say…insufferable but just more tolerable than most.

Although minerva likes to say you’re his favorite but he denies it every time, he doesn’t have favorites and he merely tolerates you.

"Severus due give this to young miss [——] when you go to the great hall"

"Do I look like an owl Minerva?" He said irritated.

The older professor gave him a look before he groaned and took the textbook and went on his way to the great hall where students were starting to gather in for lunch.

The great hall was buzzing with chatter, students were too busy to notice him enter and he liked it that way, he looked around then landed his eyes on you sitting on the gryffindor table to his pleasure, chatting with potter and granger.

He approached you slowly but stopped when he heard potter mentioning him.

"I swear I can’t do it anymore! If I get another troll on my next assignment I’m gonna try convincing Dumbledore that it’s not necessary in the curriculum"

"Don’t be dramatic, potions just need some focusing and if you tried not picking fight with snape things would be easier, I know he’s an ass but come on" you replied.

Hermione cleared her throat "it’s Professor Dumbledore Harry and professor snape to you!" She pointed at you but you just shrugged "moral of the story she’s right Harry you just need to focus, try to pay attention in class instead of neglecting your grades just to spite professor snape"

Harry crossed his arms "easy for her to say, she’s his favorite, it’s honestly starting to piss me off! He’s a git who only cares about his own house and I hope he does get that dark arts position at least then he would leave hogwarts one way or another!"

Harry regretted his words the second they left his mouth, the look you gave him was a mix of shock and angry.

"What is wrong with you?! I know he’s a git, he’s unfair and sometimes plain unreasonable when he feels like it but wishing death on him just because you dislike him!"

"[——] calm down Harry didn’t mean it like that!"

"That’s not-"

"That’s exactly what you meant Harry! He’s mean but he’s not a monster" you said all of that while not realizing snape was standing right there, watching and observing the whole thing.

It made his chest a tad tight, he hated the feeling but the look of absolute shame on Harry’s face made him satisfied.

Maybe he does have favorites.

"Snape? What are you doing with my textbook!" You said finally noticing him standing there with you transfigurations textbook. He scoffed and handed you the textbook.

"You brats would lose your head if it they weren’t attached to your body"

You frowned and took your textbook from him.

"I remember important stuff…like washing my hair" you smirked

Snape glared at you, screw what he just thought, you were still annoying.

#imagine #severus x y/n #severus snape #pro severus #severus x reader #platonic severus snape x reader #severus snape x reader #snapedom #snape fandom #severussnape #severus snape headcanon #severus snape x you #severus #severus snape fanfiction #snape

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Cool kids

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Elizabeth meets your son

Disclaimer: English is not my first language; This was requested by one of you 🤗

MASTERLIST

You were just putting the baking pan inside the oven when you heard the doorbell ring from across your small house. Surprised, you looked up at the old clock hanging on the wall above the fridge - and, for a second, you realized how old it actually looked and you wished you had removed it from there before, but there was no time now - and saw that you lost track of time while baking, which wasn’t unusual. That day, though, you were extra nervous about everything and time seemed to have rushed just to spite you.

Noticing you still hadn’t moved, you cursed under your breath and closed the oven before grabbing a dishrag to dry out your hands while you rushed to answer the door. You knew who was waiting for you outside, so you stopped just in front of the door to take a deep breath and steady your heartbeat. Your gaze moved to the side and you caught sight of your four-year-old son playing with his toy cars on the mat, exactly where you had left him when you went to the kitchen, while one of his favorite cartoons played in the background.

It of course wasn’t his fault but your anxiety was mostly because of him and the person standing at the other side of the door. That was the first time your girlfriend would meet your son, something you thought a lot about before going on with that idea. You had been dating Elizabeth Olsen for a bit over four months now and it had been a dream ever since you crossed eyes while being at the same art gallery. You were there to support your friend, but Elizabeth was there because she really enjoyed those types of things, although you quickly bonded while looking at the paintings.

You couldn’t say you had been inseparable ever since because you had your work, your son and a house to take care of all by yourself, and Elizabeth had her own life going on, but you two had seen each other as much as you could. You told her about your son on the same night you met and she had never once made it seem like you being a single mother was a problem to her, but you still waited to introduce her to your son because you wanted to know her better before doing so. Also, you didn’t want to bring someone into your son’s life who would just walk away after that, or someone who didn’t actually care for him. He deserved more than that, especially at such a young age.

It all brought you to that moment, when your nerves were certainly getting the best of you while Elizabeth was still waiting for you to open the door for her. It was also the first time your girlfriend would be inside your house, something that made you much aware of how simple everything you owned was. There was a wall in front of the couch with a huge line drawn with crayons when your son was being a little brat a couple of years ago, the couch had a stain on it from when he dropped his grape juice, and that stupid clock in the kitchen could have been older than yourself.

And that was also not the best time to rethink every decoration in your house, for sure.

Not to mention the fact that this was the first time you were introducing anyone to your kid. You had dated briefly after he was born, but no one stayed around for enough time neither had them made you feel safe again about bringing them to your son’s life. You weren’t nervous about letting Elizabeth be a part of his life, but you were nervous about how he would react to having someone new around.

“Momma,” you heard your son saying, instantly snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked at him, at his round cheeks and perfect little curly hair, and you couldn’t help but smile wildly. “There’s someone at the door.”

His words were still a bit slurred, but that, along with the way his little hand raised to point at the door, made your heart feel warmer and your body relax. It was okay. Everything was okay.

With a deep breath, you opened the door finally and were immediately surprised by your girlfriend’s beauty - although it wasn’t exactly news for you anymore. Elizabeth was looking down at her shoes, probably getting a bit tired of waiting, but she looked up as soon as she heard the door and your eyes met almost like two pieces of a magnet. Her bright gorgeous green eyes never failed to make butterflies in your stomach, but it was her smile that took your breath away for a moment. Elizabeth always had a smile to bless you with.

“Hey,” she greeted you almost shyly.

“Hi,” you said, already reaching out as if you were going to pull her in for a kiss, however that’s when you remembered you still had the dishrag in your hands and you ended up blushing.

Elizabeth chuckled happily and leaned in to peck your lips the same way she did the other times she walked you to your door after a date. When she pulled away, she lifted her arm and you took notice of the thing she was carrying with her and that you hadn’t seen before since you were so busy staring at her eyes and lips. She was holding a small bouquet, very colorful and elegant, and it instantly brought a blush to your face.

“I, uh, I was taking care of my garden today and I picked this for you,” Elizabeth explained and the stutter in her words made you realize she was probably even more nervous than you were.

“Thank you, love,” you replied, picking the bouquet from her, and then reaching out to take her hand and gently pull her inside. “Are you nervous?”

“A little bit,” she admitted with a weird chuckle while she ran her sweaty palms down her jeans. You loved it when she dressed like that, just some jeans and a t-shirt, because it made her look so comfortable around you. “But I’m also excited. Can’t wait to meet the man that has my girl’s heart,” Elizabeth joked.

You laughed, closed the front door, and turned around to the living room. “Baby, can you come here for a second?” You called your son, who didn’t seem to be paying attention to what was going on around him. He looked up though and got up quickly when he noticed there was someone in his house that he didn’t know. He ran to hide behind your legs, hitting you with his little truck on the way, but you only smiled and placed a hand on top of his head. “He’s shy, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Elizabeth assured you before she lowered herself to be at his eye level. “Hey, buddy. I’m Lizzie.”

She waved at him, offering the kid a big smile as well, and your son’s eyes raised to meet yours in confusion. You told him one of your friends would be around for dinner - since he was so young, you wanted to slowly tell him who Elizabeth was to you exactly - but you weren’t surprised he was suddenly too timid to interact with your girlfriend. He was just a kid and not used to meeting new people. Elizabeth, thankfully, seemed to understand that because she didn’t insist, nor did she try to reach out to him, but instead she pulled something from her pocket and showed him.

“Your mom told me you like cars, so I brought you this,” she said while turning around the memory game inside the box filled with Cars’ illustrations.

Your son’s eyes widened and he let go of your leg to reach out for it, but he still looked up at you to make sure it was okay. With a smile, you nodded and it didn’t take him long to grab the game with his hands. You were ready to ask him to thank her for the gift, but your son beat you to it, once again surprising you with how sweet your boy turned out to be.

“Thank you, Lizzie.”

“You’re welcome, buddy.” She smiled at him once again. “If your mom allows us, we can play it after dinner.”

“Only for a while,” you replied since you knew your son would ask you about it. “Then you need to go to bed, mister.”

“Okay, momma.” He didn’t complain and, after another second looking at his new game, he rushed away to go back to his toys in the living room.

Once he was gone, Elizabeth rose to her feet again and you quickly pulled her in to kiss her cheek. “Are you trying to buy my son’s affection?” You joked.

Her cheeks were pink when you took a step back. “Can you blame me? I wanted to have a good start.”

You chuckled and shook your head, but you weren’t surprised by that. That was just who she was, and it was innocent enough. “Well, thank you. For my flowers too. I love them.”

“I’m glad.”

“Come with me,” you asked, already turning to the kitchen. “I will put these on a vase and check out our dinner.”

All while at dinner time, your son kept the conversation going with his rambling, asking one question after another, barely giving you any time to think about a reply before he was already talking again. You saw that it amused Elizabeth, but she also made an effort to explain to your son how trains worked to give you a break. It was good to have someone else there, although you knew it was Elizabeth who made it so amazing by just being herself.

He was also relaxed enough around Elizabeth that, midway through his rambling, he pointed at her and said: “I saw you on television!” before he kept talking about his little cars. Elizabeth and you exchanged a look and then had to try hard not to laugh at his words, but you only shook your head at your boy’s antics. Once you were all done eating, you cleaned enough room on the table for Elizabeth to spread the cards of the game she brought so she could play with your son while you watched with your heart getting bigger and bigger inside your chest by the second.

That’s what you always hoped for. Someone who could love you and your son. You hadn’t told Elizabeth that you loved her yet, but you already knew it was the case. You couldn’t be sure how she felt, but she had a way to make you feel loved with her actions and other little things that have you hooked since day one.

And there, sitting by her side while she laughed with your son, you realized you made the right decision with her. She was a keeper.

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #celebrity x reader #marvel #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #fanfic #creative writing #my writing #drabble #fluff

[doll3tt33]

୨ৎ Kai Anderson SFW headcanons

Gonna start doing headcanons for the evans in between making bots cuz I’m bored lol. If you ever wonder how I perceive these characters while I make bots, then here you go!

A handful of these are just plain observations and maybe to some these are clear as day, but idk imma still include them either way

Warnings: misogyny.. duh, loaaads of Reddit mentions

• This might be indisputably obvious, but I feel like some ppl think of Kai as someone who always plans 10 steps ahead, which I personally don’t think so

Yes, he does have a goal in mind, but a lot of his “next moves” are just ideas that came to him in a fleeting moment. Of course, he’ll act as if he totally knew what he was doing this whole time, even though he was def freestyling 💀

I feel like calling him out on his lack of meticulous planning would be an absolute jab to his ego, and he’ll deny it big time

• Kai is the embodiment of what it means to be a pseudo-intellectual 😭😭. Like he isn’t stupid at all, no doubt about that (mans manipulated crowds). But his arrogant attitude, his shameless use of fallacies, AND the fact he’s a walking contradiction - all while trying to act like he’s the smartest guy in the room?? Bye-

Again, I think he’s smart but don’t tell me he doesn’t act like your average pseudo-intellectual guy who’d mansplain 24/7

• His tolerance to spicy food is actually weak, but he pretends like it isn’t. He could be coughing his lungs out from the tiniest hint of spice in his food, but he would refuse to drink a glass of milk to cool down. HES A MAN

• This is already kinda a given, but mans speech mannerisms is literally like the average Reddit comment section ((iykyk

I also feel like a rant he posted online has been made into a copypasta at some point lol

• Speaking of Reddit.. whenever he gets into an argument with another user on there (most likely a politically charged one), he’ll downvote every existing comment from that user and will proceed to do it to any of their future comments by keeping tabs on their account, all out of sheer spite

• He likes weird porn genres. Idk which ones exactly, but I just know they be really specific

• Says he likes submissive, obedient women whose sole existence is to serve him. But at the same time, he can’t stand people he deems as vapid, and would dispose of them once he begins to see them as more of a liability than an asset (especially if they’re just THAT annoying). He definitely would rather keep someone around who has more substance

• Kai would play devil’s advocate for any corrupt figure you could think of. He’s like… that guy

• This is also a given, but I’d like to stress that people don’t know how r/theredpill was his holy bible. The Kai we know today has applied all the must-know tips to his entire character and mastered the arts of misogyny 101

Oh and he has a bunch of motivational posts saved from there, and he rereads the crap out of them each time a “fEmAle” would piss him off

• If you knew Kai prior to his cult and were genuinely nice to him, he’d definitely have a teensy-weensy soft spot for you and would avoid killing you ((unless you end up in a situation like winter’s, cuz then…💀

You’d be like the Jean to his Patrick Bateman! 😭

#american horror story #ahs #ahs fandom #evan peters #kai anderson #Kai Anderson headcanons #kai anderson imagine #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson x you #kai anderson smut #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon smut #kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x you #kit walker smut #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer x y/n #kyle spencer x you #kyle spencer smut #crazyfrm

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Seven

Day: Thursday, October 5th Time: 11:00 AM EST

"Andrew hates her, you know. Andrew's not really big on the idea of Aaron's happiness, see? So if Aaron likes Katelyn, Andrew doesn't want him to have her. Andrew might smile awful bright but he is a master of childish spite." "That doesn't make sense," Neil said. "It's complicated," Nicky said, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back in his chair. "I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't really Dan and Matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you." He looked over his shoulder again. "I told you Aunt Tilda gave Andrew up, right? That's only half of it. Truth is she put both of them in the system at first. One week later she changed her mind."

"They know she gave them both up?" Neil asked. "When Andrew's foster mother called to set up that meet-and-greet, she asked Aunt Tilda how only one of them ended up in the system. Aunt Tilda told her, and Aaron heard it on the upstairs line." Nicky gestured up as if indicating Tilda's bedroom. "I don't know why the hell Andrew's foster family told him, but yeah, he knows. I'm thinking that's why he wouldn't talk to Aaron when Aaron wrote to him. He was—justifiably, I think—pissed off." "But it's not Aaron's fault," Neil said. "It was their mother's decision." "That's Andrew for you: making sense since never." Nicky spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Finding Andrew again was a turning point for Aaron in all the worst ways. Aunt Tilda moved them cross-country, started drinking more than ever, and got heavy-handed with Aaron. Aaron got into all kinds of trouble in some sort of traumatized rebellion. He took her drugs and got into fights at school and in general grew up to be a bit of an asshole. Mom wrote me about it when I was in Germany because she was worried about him. The only good thing Aaron did in South Carolina was play Exy, and he only picked that up so games would get him out of Aunt Tilda's house. Then Dad found out about Andrew and began this years-long campaign to bring Andrew home. Told you last time, right? He wore Aunt Tilda down until she agreed to take Andrew in, then talked to the courts and Children's Services and Andrew's last foster family. He met Andrew, who apparently wasn't at all interested in a triumphant return with his mother, and introduced Aaron to Andrew. That's when things started moving. Andrew suddenly got motivated. He started behaving and toeing the line and got released on early parole about a year later." "Andrew decided he wanted a brother after all," Neil said. "So what went wrong?" "Aunt Tilda died, and Aaron blames Andrew." "Did Andrew do it?" "The night Aunt Tilda died, she and Aaron got in a fight. That's how Mom and Dad finally found out Aunt Tilda was beating on Aaron. He showed up at their place with fresh bruises and cuts. Dad called Aunt Tilda over to sort things out, but she didn't stick around long. She took Aaron and left. They didn't make it home. She went over the median into oncoming traffic and wasn't wearing her seatbelt.... It wasn't Aaron in the car. Aaron was standing in for Andrew at a study session. That was before Andrew was on his drugs, so it was a pretty easy act for Aaron to pull off. He didn't know why Andrew asked him to do it until the police called. I still don't know what happened, if Aunt Tilda panicked when she realized which son was with her or if they were fighting or if it was intentional, but... It's not like Aaron liked her, but she was his mother, you know? And Aaron never got to fix things with her, never got to understand why she was so messed up or why she messed them up so bad. Aaron can't accept that she's gone. He misses her. He can't forgive Andrew, and Andrew doesn't understand or care about how much it hurt Aaron. Stalemate."

He spoke slowly, giving himself time to think and to bleach the grief from his voice. "Andrew did care. That's what went wrong."

Art used with permission by Aymmidumps. Thank you @aymmidumps!

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #artists #aymmidumps

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

I love your animatronic toy OC guys so much, they have so much personality to them and their colours are really good (especially umbra)

Thank you! The funny thing about Umbra's design was that while I was developing it about two years ago and had some colors in mind, I described in text what I already came up with to an image generator for fun (shitty unconvincing old kind, vs now where it looks like shit but in a somewhat more convincing way) and it produced something so silly that I made her design better than what I would've settled with out of spite.

More details of my process and anti-AI ranting below the cut, so the examples given won't show up on search results. Google Images is getting polluted too much with slop to begin with.

Let's begin.

In 2022 I was drafting up Umbra's design with mostly concrete details. At this time image generators were newer and much less convincing, and I was a bit less aware of just how unethical they were, so I fed one a text description of what I had drafted for her design out of curiosity. Something along the lines of, "doll of an anthropomorphic owl librarian in glasses, blazer/suit jacket, skirt, corset, high heels, sitting on a bookshelf" and probably a few more terms. Really specific, lengthy prompt.

I try to be open-minded and give new things a shot, but the results were Not Great. Ideally, I'd want to not share the AI pictures at all on-principle, but I feel like it's useful, transparent, and necessary to show them. Both as a means of not hiding anything, but also just to appreciate where the design is at in spite of it.

Outside of this particular collage of Weird Owls, no other pictures on this blog are AI-generated. AI Image Generation is harmful, and I am against its usage.

But hey, two of the generated pictures look close, right? The top left is the closest, and bottom right is second.

That's because they started out worse, and I had to actually erase chunks of them and have the generator fill in the blanks to get anything remotely close to what I wanted. Misshapen limbs, unrecognizable anatomy, fever-dream clothing details, etc. They didn't even have a corset or proper legs until I slapped the generator in the face enough times to make it produce them. I was just using it to photobash, which was such an annoying process, I just went "this is dumb" and stopped. They're literally posed like that because I kept erasing and regnerating their limbs until they looked vaguely in-character. It literally only looks passable thanks to STRANGLING it with human input.

Before I used the image generator, I already drafted her to be night-themed with yellow eyes and something like purple, dark blue, or sky-blue as her main color; the generator making one owl yellow-eyed and purple was a happy coincidence, and the only thing the generative AI "came up with" that I didn't already have in mind or included in the prompt was the light blue shirt, which I did adapt into her cyan shirt and stockings/socks as well. That was a good call. You get One Point, Mr. AI.

...Which still meant that at its absolute best, it was a largely redundant step in the creative process if its contribution was worse than what a randomized palette generator or character creator could come up with.

That's already putting the ethics of it aside, like carbon emissions, data pollution, using artists' and photographers' work without credit or permission, the incentive to plagiarize, flooding sites like deviantart with slop, Willy Wonka Shit, etc etc etc. When people say "you can use AI as a tool though", this ordeal was enough to convince me that it's more trouble than its worth, even in its most ethical usage. I feel gross for having even tried. I wish I knew what sources went into the creation of those Weird Owls. It'd be better for research if the right people could be credited.

Nothing else on this blog is AI-generated or ever will be. The art below is purely my own (2022 vs a few weeks ago)):

Actually drawing Umbra and solidifying her design was far more rewarding than having an image generator vaguely approximate my own ideas. I wanted her to look really special, so I used a black cape and pants, gold highlights and buttons, and blue undertones to make something more distinct. Also, neck floof. Very important. I wanted the head in particular to look distinct and original, going with bold black streaks to really help her look distinguished.

I also have certain inevitable Hydroisms for Fancy characters like her; most apparent in these designs for Chasey and Kaita from even longer ago, which were more of an influence than anything else. (Old art of mine from like 2021, Kaita ref looks wonky but Chasey still holds up nicely):

Most of Umbra's other design elements were already commonly used with established ocs like Kaita, like her shape language, corset, skirt, heels, etc. It was my previous work with Chasey that inspired the use of gold buttons and highlights.

Umbra is also now a bluer shade of purple partly to distance the current design from that ordeal. All things considered, I'll probably make her more indigo next time. I already wanted her to have a wide color range from the get-go (Featured below is, again, purely my art from 2022:)

I may use a different colored shirt and stockings in the future. I like to think she has many different shirts and clothes based on the different stages of the night sky, from dusk to dawn, and the painting I made in the top right there was an exploration of her range in different lighting.

All in all, it's frustrating. I'm proud of her design, but explaining all of this is annoying, because it's technically all relevant to showing how her colors were picked and how the design was made. I still technically have AI to """Thank""", in the way you thank a bad experience for encouraging you to make things better out of spite.

#Umbra Beatrix

[ponett]

with the fallout of bandai namco's idiotic "it's up to interpretation" bs, do you think that it's possible to enjoy queer media made in a corporate environment in addition to independent works? is it even worthwhile to attempt making queer media in a corporate environment? i find it special how well the g-witch production team managed to tell the story they wanted even with the challenges and pressures they faced, but i have to admit that independent works like slarpg are always going to more completely tell queer stories. as someone who has resonated with both slarpg and g-witch, i was curious to know your perspective.

i'm probably less cynical about this than a lot of my peers are - not that i can blame anyone for feeling cynical about queer rep from corporate-owned media. (we've been through so many First Ever Gay Disney Characters at this point, and lord knows blizzard loves to tease that another overwatch character might be gay every year or so as a PR move.) unfortunately it's just extremely hard to get something like a full season of an animated series funded and produced independently, so the artists looking to enter these fields and pour their hearts and souls into meaningful queer stories as a full-time job don't have many options

going indie gives you theoretically endless creative freedom to tell your stories without corporate censorship, but it's also a massive gamble. only an extreme minority of indie creatives in any medium are actually able to make a living. the fact that i came out the other side of slarpg's development with enough money that i can keep being a full-time indie instead of being in massive debt makes me one of the lucky ones. and even with my modest success, i sure as hell don't have the money to hire a whole team, which limits the scope of what i can make. so i can't turn my nose up at the queer people writing disney channel cartoons where they can't say the word "gay" out loud. they have health insurance, i don't. for most people, what i do is simply not an option

with the corporate-produced Queer Stories i enjoy, i'm often able to squint and see what the creatives were trying to do, wishing that they could have done more while understanding that they probably had to fight tooth and nail for what's there

in the realm of children's animation in particular, i'm thankful that the people working at these studios ARE fighting for more, because it means that kids today have so many more positive queer stories to relate with. i didn't have a single gay character i felt i could relate to until i read scott pilgrim at age 16 and saw wallace wells. before that, i felt so alone in the world. i denied who i was for years because it felt like there would be no place for me. i didn't know anyone openly gay in real life, growing up in the south, and in fiction gay people either existed as the butt of a joke or not at all. the fact that queer kids are now able to see people like themselves in so many shows means something, even if we still have a long way to go and the big studios continue to be a major obstacle

on the subject of g-witch, i'm honestly unfazed by the statement from bandai-namco. i guess i wish they could've let suletta and miorine kiss, but like... the text of the show is extremely blunt about them being a couple by the end. it's not up for debate. and it's not like a gundam series having a meaningful story in spite of the wishes of the toy-producing overlords is anything new, this is just our latest example

all that being said, i do think people should branch out more and explore more weird indie shit if they want more wholeheartedly, openly queer stories. people gotta suck it up and embrace more outsider art instead of only valuing things with studio-level production values. start looking at ren'py visual novels, rpg maker games, obscure webcomics, zines drawn in sharpie, artists on bandcamp who aren't signed to a label, all that jazz. maybe part of the reason why i'm not more fazed by the state of affairs with corporate-funded fiction is that i'm constantly surrounded by furry artists who are telling their own little gay stories

#tamamayfox #ask

[eroguron0nsense]

Little thing that occurred to me about Law and Haki

I've always attributed the "canon" reason for Law continually getting spanked or struggling in spite of his virtually unparalleled power to be that he's just comparatively worse at haki than a lot of his opponents. Generally speaking, you can work your way around a LOT of devil fruit powers or brute force through them if you've got enough spatial intelligence and haki to work your way around them (see Oden, Vergo, Shanks, presumably Roger). Law's haki is established in Punk Hazard/Dressrossa to be weaker than Vergo's and Doffy's, in spite of certain external factors that contributed to him losing fights he could have either won or done substantially better in, and that kind of leads a lot of people to thinking that Law's powers are too good and they just needed to nerf him so that the fights could actually be more difficult and give Luffy an actual chance to shine/make the stakes higher etc That much is absolutely true, and Law having more developed haki combined with the way he's learned to use the Ope Ope no Mi would probably make him damn near invincible. I do, however, think that there's a bit more to this–and a more plausible justification– than just Law being as vulnerable or outmatched as the series needs him to be at any point in time, which is that he's had little to no fucking opportunity to polish it.

So quick recap: Law probably had some understanding of how haki worked from his time training with the Donquixote family, who taught him everything he knows about martial arts/swordplay/combat that didn't involve devil fruits. After Minion Island and Cora's death, he makes his way to Swallow Island, finds Bepo being bullied by Penguin and Shachi, and eventually manages to recruit all three to start the Heart Pirates. The thing is, as Cora told Law before he died, eating the Ope Ope no Mi turns both Doffy and the Marines against Law and virtually leaves him all alone with three children who are weaker fighters than him, and unless Oda gives him a second backstory, we can presume Law had no other mentors the entire time. The entire foundation for Law learning Haki in a world where everyone who knew about him would have been hunting him down a la Nico Robin would just have been him working off of what he learned from the Donquixote family. We don't know how the rest of the worst generation picked it up except for Luffy, who despite having only really understood what it was recently, spent two years being mentored and trained intensively by one of the greatest haki users alive; Law presumably had to pick it up on his own in life or death circumstances and had to focus more on escape or evasion as a 13 year old with limited powers and going through the whole childhood Luffy process of actually learning how to utilize his devil fruit in combat, especially since the Ope Ope no Mi canonically involves a hell of a lot of skill, intricacy, and imagination to be able to use to its fullest potential. The difference in Law's ability and more experienced or better haki users is basically the difference between people who've been training in highly specific martial arts for a long time and someone who was good at karate until they had to stop taking classes in middle school, and basically had to try and build up any skills they had developed by that point entirely on their own with no external guidance. You can learn to hold your own in a fight but the actual skills involved in picking up haki either come under super specific circumstances or involve learning highly specialized skills under mentorship. The people who are really, really good at it either have years and years of experience honing it (every Yonko, Katakuri), had it knocked into them by someone who was better at it (see Luffy and Zoro's training arcs, Hyogoro helping Luffy build on what he'd learned from Rayleigh to finally pick up Ryuo), or levelled it up under very specific life or death circumstances after already having a background in it (see the Katakuri fight, or Luffy unlocking his Ryuo under duress). Law and his crew of babies were presumably running for their lives constantly or trying to live under the radar until they'd gotten a bit stronger so that Doffy didn't pick up on the fact that Law was out there and vulnerable; their circumstances just weren't quite the right ones to develop their haki as quickly or as strongly.

#trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #nico robin #monkey d luffy #doflamingo one piece #dressrosa #donquixote family #corazon #bepo one piece #heart pirates #penguin one piece #shachi #bepo #shachi one piece #also the heart stuff aside I do genuinely think a bit part of the reason Law struggled in his fight with doffy is the overwhelming pressure #of facing your lifelong tormentor/enemy and the retraumatization and psychological factors involved #he probably could have lost that fight anyway and I'd say he hadn't quite reached where he needed to be to win without help but like #he was also very visibly off his game even by those standards #hyogoro

[quartzdawn]

Went on google search, typed in 'Ugigiugi' just to analysis her tracing again, and accidental found her ancient Egyptian Mythos art. Apparently either Ugigugi or someone else relogged them on Pinterest and because of that they are now forever frozen there as a memory of a person who is no longer on the internet (and thank god for that).

I was happy to actually find these because I genuinely need to see what these looked like, as when looking at the tracing PDF file that @/Twistedpometea made and seeing a few select of the Egyptian mythos art there, I noticed that if you go to her Deviantart (the only social media she has left) the Ancient Egyptian stuff was the only thing that was completely 100% deleted. you can't find any of the art for it other than on google.

Moving on to an actual topic, while looking at this art wise, not only can you tell that a mass majority of this art is traces of Leona from Twisted wonderland, but the designs are straight up nearly stolen from the Webtoon Ennead (Another place she also traced from in a few of her works). Her Seth is literally a hybrid of the Ennead Seth and Leona from TWST mixed together to make some hybrid child.

I'm assuming she decided to make this "beautiful' decision so that she can easily trace fanart of both Leona and Seth instead of actually have to draw anything at all from scratch.

Anyway, thought this was interesting because my closing suspicion of her possible being homophobic keeps growing because this is apart of the several pieces of work were she replaced a male character in a MalexMale relationship (whether its fanart or official original art) with her female self insert to serve a heterosexual perspective. This time being a more sever case.

If no ones ever read 'Ennead' it is strictly considered a boy love story. Seth (god of war in Egyptian mythos) is seen having several romantic and sexual relationship with men. Specifically the god Horus. Its-- the story is a lot, but the main point is that this series doesn't have many hetro elements to it.

In Ugigugi's version she keeps Seth, gives him Leona's personality (kind of), and then replaces Horus with her Self insert Julia. The stories are nearly the same from what I can gather and all she did was erase the more graphic and horrid parts of the story to create a more fluffy 'gentle' perspective of the relationship. Almost in a way to spite the Ennead version of the story which has a much darker storyline to it.

Funniest part of this all? She's drawn Ennead fanart before so I genuinely do not get why she thought she was going to get away with this.

(LMAO love how in these pieces to not make it clear that she took heavy, and I mean HEAVY inspiration, from Ennead she just changed the art style. Just because the designs [which were probably also taken from other sources] are different doesn't mean that the tracing of the characters aren't obvious)

Now the only thing I want to know is why she mass deleted all of the Egyptian artwork she did and not the obviously traced Twisted Wonderland work that's still on her DeviantArt. is the author of Ennead more threatening with copyright striking? Was the universe she created actually co owned with another user and the other didn't want to participate anymore after realizing she was a tracer? Was she accused of something like racism ? Its odd for sure. if anyone knows comment or reblog because I think its really strange.

(also in the process of making this I found more of her ancient Egyptian mythology art so will make another post. Apparently its being sold on those weird scam sites that sell things for expensive prices. Apparent they think many of this work is worth 24USD. )

#ugigiugi #tw:ugigiugi #twst drama #cw: ugigiugi #twst discourse #tw: homophobia #tw: racism

[genericpuff]

LR is really, really good but I just wanted to say something- this is probably more about the readers than LR itself, but when it's said that LR is so much better than LO artistically (which it is!!), like say in terms of writing, pacing, and art - I think it's also not an apples to apples comparison, since LR has LO to draw inspiration from and a lot of external reactions to LO to learn from for what to do and not to, while LO is both time-constrained and (when it started out), didn't have much basis to compare to.

(The SA plotline is one example.. many criticize RS and say she shouldn't have written it in the first place but that's the thing - she actually didn't know. While I agree it's really shitty and RS has definitely ignored a lot of criticism she should take into consideration, the conclusion that she shouldn't have written it in the first place wasn't something that she knew about until after fans pointed it out. She definitely is mishandling it now, but I think writing that in at the start was born out of actual ignorance - different from her problems now, since she's now actively ignoring and shutting down the feedback she does need to get better. This blowing up educated a lot of people- probably not you specifically- and opened up a lot of dialogue for things that Rachel likely didn't have access to at the start of LO. and has no excuse for now.)

Anyway, yeah - Love Lore Rekindled, thank you for creating it! Genuinely, I do - this ask isn't meant to be a bad thing against you at all, nor do you need to reply to it.

Not a bad thing in the slightest, I honestly agree with you! The reality is that LR wouldn't exist without LO, so to try and compare them feels kind of like... it defeats the point?

Like obviously Rekindled was made with similar intentions, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend like Rekindled wasn't made out of spite over what could have been, but at the heart of it all, it doesn't exist to 'flex' on LO, really it's just to help recapture that joy and beauty that the original comic had that I fell in love with in the first place. It's only because I loved the original concept and foundation of LO so much that it exists. That's also why I call it an "AU" of sorts, as a sort of "alternate reality where LO didn't turn out the way it did" experiment lmao Mostly by maintaining the consistency in the original art style and paying off those earlier plot threads that didn't payoff the way we were anticipating or were dropped entirely. Sure, it's trying (and in some ways succeeding) to be "better" than LO, but that definition of "better" and how it's applied was what we were hoping to get out of LO in the first place.

So yeah, when people say "the art/writing is so much better than LO's!" part of me tries to take it as the compliment it's undoubtedly intended to be, but also I'm like "ack, that's not the point!! the art still doesn't look exactly like LO, I'm failing!!" LMAO I suppose that's part of the magic, but it doesn't fully align with my original goals or intentions. That's the struggle of art stylization, you can try and mimic another person's work as much as you want, but you can never mimic the them that's in their work, just like how you can't remove the you that's in yours. I want to be at peace with my own work and what I put into it, so I try not to compare them too much and just treat them as their own unique separate things (even if one of them is directly trying to resemble the other). It's okay that Rekindled doesn't look or read exactly the same as LO, but in saying that it's 'better' defeats the point of why Rekindled exists in the first place and diminishes LO's part in the process. LO has to exist - all of its best and worst parts - for Rekindled to exist, so putting LO down just to raise LR up... isn't that kind of what we criticize all the time within the comic, how it can't seem to hold up its best parts without putting down others? Why can't they both have their own things worth appreciating on their own exclusive of one another?

This is also why I generally ask people to not share Rekindled with the general Lore Olympus hashtags or post about it in the fan groups (and why I don't mirror it on Webtoons) because I just like... don't want it to come across as some "booo you like LO??? go read this instead!" type deal. I want people to be able to enjoy Rekindled as its own standalone story as an extension of LO, in the form of what could have been. There's a very thin line in the sand between Rekindled being just what it is and it being used against the fans as if it's a crime for them to still genuinely enjoy LO. I can't enjoy LO in good faith anymore, but that doesn't mean I make Rekindled for the sake of ruining that good faith in others. I was a fan too, once upon a time, so Rekindled is just as much for the fans as it is for the people like me who started off loving this comic just to be disappointed in the end and yearning for the "what if" that could have been.

And yeah, it's absolutely an advantage that I have in my court that I have the knowledge of knowing what LO started as and where it went wrong to work off of, an advantage that Rachel didn't have. It's like when I look back on my original pages in Time Gate: Reaper and think "man, I wish I had known xyz when I made these so they could be better!" but if I hadn't made them like that the first time, I wouldn't be able to reflect on them now knowing I've improved. In that same regard, Lore Olympus had to run so that Lore Rekindled could crawl. And I'm forever thankful to LO - and Rachel - for giving us something we could all connect over to such an extensive degree that Rekindled could exist at all.

#ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #lore rekindled #lore rekindled ama #lore rekindled comic

[julymarte]

  since my only real contribution to this fandom has been thedifferences analysis i did with my friends i think it’s time to separate it from the AU post and make it into a real masterpost, this is gonna be pretty long so be ready for it Disclaimer: models and art are fluctuating so i’m going to highlight only the recurrent stuff and the related evidence for the candy theory, so i’m not claiming this to be the indiscutible canon so take this evidence as you polease, just know it’s there but going forward....it’s time to begin with a few copy and paste from the previous posts with a few corrections along the way What is the candy theory? the Candy theory generates by the names of their alchemy lesson candies, according   to it, they highlight their strenghts/charm points so  Tail Fin Candy for floyd meaning legs and height and   Dorsal Fin Candy  for  jade focusing more on his torso/back i’ve seen many people comapring sprites to prove this theory on twitter so it’s time to show some examples, i tried to recreate them as best as i could (consider as i said art tend to be a lil less reliable than spites as it heavily depends on the lineart artist who’s assigned to the job)

this repeats in pretty much all the  versions aside the mermaid sprites that are copy/pasted  BUT on that someone call in the octavinelle trailer  to support the theory

some also link that to floyd possibly being a late bloomer as we clearly see baby floyd  was indeed shorter than baby jade in middle school even without the  aid of guiding lines

both the tweels are of course still growing, since despite being GIANTS  they are afterall still 17 but we heard a detail from  floyd unique from what we know about jade, In floyd’s starsending episode translated by Ekala  he states that

to adjust the mold of custom made shoes  he has probably gotten considerably taller within the year

According to some this means that floyd’s uniforms aren’t short on purpose  but are simply his first year ones and hedidn’t change them...but in that case jade wouldn’t have grown much  in height... according to these theories then floyd “just started” getting his growth spurt  while jade is pretty much settling his height and frame, but considering his apetite i wouldn’t be surprised to see himweighting more than floyd if we wver get an official weight for the boys(as we do know trey weights less than rook etc) but we are swimming too much in headcanon waters let’s proceed with the analysis in the previous posts these were the differences that emerged some of them are based on artwork so i’d take them with a lil caution especially on the topic of the hands that proved to be especially unreliable (floyd even got them changed in one of his sprites cause they looked too soft , sometimes jade has softer hands too) shoulders seem to be fluctuating as well

starting with some artwork analysis  in the  magic archives we get a view of the eels from the back, and  floyd  was the only one with sketch underline, this was the result considering jade and  azul wearing clothes properly (and even pretty tight in jade’s case as we saw before)

further update to support the  theory  comes  from the Union Birthday  model atlases starting with the   difference in rendering  of  their  vests that  being the  same  shape have  some pretty distinct  rendering on the  contrary of  the usual ( mermaid  copy/paste-very similar  halloween) as in jade  we  even find   back the  return of  the  button crying  for  help

another element is   the  belt as  all the models  come  with a   separate  belt  but  i  decided to merge  it with their  hips  to  give better context as there’s  no  variation in the  legs  and  as usual floyd’s  are  slightly  thicker but  something we  never  analized   surfaces here , and  i  think there’s  not even need to explain this

some relate this to their  first bday art too even if their  model don’t show significant difference

also in mer-form when having the  same  position  you can see another visible  difference  between jade  and  floyd  

in the masterchef ones we see pretty much we see a similar thing to the birthday boy vests even if shoulders and waist are pretty much the same they still keep a small but consistent difference

before jumping  to the “it’s just the clothes” bandwagon i remind you that once again jade wears skin tight clothing and floyd loose/oversized stuff

this pic actually leads us to the latest difference found aka the forearms always  from the masterchef models

i hope to update this masterpost next month with their proper leg difference with floyd’s basketball club wear coming out to compare with jade’s vargas camp leggies so yes apparently  jade’s the  titty twin and floyd the ass one, and you may wonder wasn’t jade the ass one? i am afraid to break it to you but his beansday backside is  fake af and all thanks to the  harness

in conclusion these are the predominant differences it’s also left to dind the  difference that rwas mentioned to riddle about the fact that  ears  are also different  but  the art is inconsistent on that matter and  we  didn’t come to a proper   solution and it might be  something only  perceived  by  the  characters

#twisted wonderland #twst #jade leech #floyd leech #masterpost #analysis #long post

[aqua-the-smiter]

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ℑ𝔯𝔬𝔫 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 Ferrus Manus x female oc (Argena Seeva) Other parts in the reblogs Ferrus, in a bid to one up his pain-in-the-ass brother Fulgrim, takes up drawing. Gets some reference help from his long suffering friend and senechal, Argena. Part of my AU I have cleverly called the Primarch Wife AU. Happy endings, the boys get the help they need, Big E is a good dad and, most importantly, everybody gets a wife. Because big husband and small wife makes brain go brr

Sexual content/NSFW after the cut - Very lewd-but-not-lewd touching, Ferrus jacking off to his future wife while trying to get work done, idiots in love. @thevoidscreams @pringles-plaguehaus ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ “Gena?” Ferrus asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “I have a…strange favor to ask of you.” Argena put down the loop of silver she’d been polishing and turned around on her stool to face him as she heard him out. Throne, he even looked uncomfortable, and she wondered what exactly he needed that he was looking so hot under the collar. Ferrus Manus was many things, but wavering was not one of them. Actually he was kind of cute like that. She mentally slapped herself almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. HE. IS. YOUR. BOSS. She’d been with him for over a year and half at this point. It felt like it should have been longer. Falling into the role of his senechal had been so easy after a while. Especially after they’d started spending more time simply enjoying each other’s company. He was a surprisingly layered man once he opened up enough to show it. And, she heavily suspected, a lonely one too. So they’d gotten close more easily than she would have first thought. It even showed in the way he addressed her. Gena, a more tender nickname than her given. “Does it have anything to do with your ongoing attempts to one up your brother?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It does, yes. Look, I can’t help it. Fulgrim has been driving me mad recently, so I want to pay him back in kind.” “I know, I know. And if you pull it off you’ll make him absolutely seethe.” “It” in question was Ferrus putting a serious effort into learning how to draw. He could already, but it was an entirely different kind. Technical drawings, machine blueprints, weapon schematics. Nothing really artistic, although it could be counted as a form of art in its own right if you asked her. Watching him work was hypnotic, the movement of the pencil or stylus in his metal hands impossibly graceful. Elegant even. But most people didn’t see it that way. Resident artsy fuck, Fulgrim, certainly didn’t. Constantly making little jabs and jokes at his best friend’s inability to produce anything else than purely practical drawings. Finally, Ferrus had enough and announced to her in private that he was going to produce a piece of actual art better than anything Fulgrim could do (and he wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was, including himself) out of pure brotherly spite. The early results were rough, but promising. Argena herself had quite a bit of skill, picked up from her goldsmithing hobby, and he’d come to her with practice sketches, rudimentary shapes and simple three dimensional objects. It took him a while, but he was definitely getting it. His talent for technical drawings was beginning to shine through with the clean linework. In short, it seemed he might actually do it. “That is the goal.” He said, just a little smug. “So what do you need me for, pray tell my lord?” She prompted. The Primarch seemed to steel himself for a moment. “Well…I feel I’m ready to move on to…organic materials now. I can only draw my own tools so much before I cease to learn any more from the exercise. I was going to ask if I could study you. Your anatomy, I mean.” And it already sounded like that would involve less clothes than she started with that day. “...Study my anatomy? How so? Moreover, why?”

“Feel up your body. Your muscles, skeletal structure, general build. How everything connects and moves together. I find that I learn best when I am up to the elbows in it so to speak, so being able to touch it would be the best thing. You are the only person I feel comfortable coming to with this. It is, ultimately, quite a petty thing I’m after. You have been very understanding of me. More than I thought would be possible.” Ferrus paused for a moment, wondering if what he had to say next was even a good idea before deciding he’d take that chance. “Also, you are objectively a very beautiful woman. Whatever someone’s personal tastes may be, nobody could look at you and deny it. And subjectively, I think you are a beautiful woman. For those reasons you’d make the best subject for what I’m trying to accomplish. If the goal of art is to create something pleasing to the eye, something that captures the beauty of the world and the enthusiasm of the creator in a still image, you would be a perfect basis. Not like the mess of colors and lines Fulgrim throws on his canvases.” He spoke so frankly. Ferrus was always a very no-nonsense type of person, but to have that direct, blunt nature used in such a glowing description of her was something else entirely. Because you knew for a fact when he said something, he meant it. It made her feel very warm inside. “And this is purely for research, right?” She asked tentatively. “Purely objective.” He swore. “And I won’t go any farther than you want or touch you anywhere you don’t want to be touched. I’ll fill in any gaps in my knowledge with an anatomy book. Just tell me where to stop, and I will.” Somehow a Primarch who’d grown up in the wilderness eating sand had a better concept of boundaries than many people. “Well...I trust you, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” She said after a moment, rubbing her upper arm. “I’m willing. Let’s do it.” He gave her one of his rare smiles (that seemed to be becoming less rare nowadays come to think of it), genuinely grateful. It made her feel more at ease with the agreement. Who knows, it might even be fun. ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #warhammer 40k x oc #primarch x oc #primarch x female oc #mating press march #ferrus manus #ferrus manus x oc #ferrus manus x female oc

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

16 - Too Much Rain

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: mentions of divorce

Year: 1992

Pattie and John finalized their divorce in January of 1992. Per their lawyer, they had to try couples therapy, amongst a few other things, prior to their official split. When nothing took, they officially called it quits.

While John never came around quite like Pattie did, he still tried addressing everyone by their proper names and pronouns. He never stopped by or gave anyone the time of day, but when he remembered, he would send birthday gifts or vague holiday cards to try and act like he cared (mainly to spite Pattie, showing her she wasn’t the only involved grandparent).

But, Pattie didn’t care. She had finally connected with her son and her granddaughter—she couldn’t care less what her ex-husband did.

Pattie often found herself stopping by once every weekend to bring the boys a meal and a little gift for Bobby. Since tensions had been resolved, Pattie hadn’t misgendered Eddie or even slipped up on his deadname. She addressed and introduced him as her son’s husband and Bobby’s father. She earned strange looks from people who think the way she used to, but it was second nature to her at this point.

Her son was married to a man, who also fathered her granddaughter. Totally normal, right?

Ever since she left John, she could give two shits about what others perceived as “normal”—she loved her new, free life and she’d be damned if anyone took that from her. For the first time in her adult life, she was happy—she didn’t care about the rest.

One weekend when Pattie dropped by, Eddie was getting his belongings together to head over to The Hideout for his weekly gig. Corroded Coffin hadn’t performed nearly as much since Bobby was born, but his band mates didn’t mind—they all understood where Eddie’s priorities were.

“Alright, I’m heading out!” Eddie called.

“Good luck tonight, Ed,” Pattie chirped.

“Thanks, mama.”

That was a newer development—mama. Eddie had never been close with his own mother, so once Pattie started coming around more often, she very quickly took on a motherly role for her son-in-law. He called her mom or mama, and she had an array of pet names for him that she used interchangeably.

In all honesty, it made Steve sick to his stomach hearing how gushy they were towards each other, but he figured it was better that it was happening to Eddie rather than him.

“Do you have everything?” Steve asked.

“I think so. What would I be missing?”

“I don’t know, you’re forgetful,” Steve shrugged.

“Well, if I forget something, then I’ll just call you and make you come down to The Hideout. Sound good?”

“No.”

“Great. Love you.”

“Hate you too, stupid.”

The two quickly kissed each other as Eddie ran out the door. Bobby was put to bed about an hour ago, so Eddie had covered all his goodnight bases for the evening.

“I should probably head out, too,” Pattie sighed as she slipped her coat on. “It was a pleasure, Stevie.”

“Always nice to see you, mom. See you next weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that night, when Eddie got home from his gig, he burst into his bedroom and started bouncing on the bed, urging Steve awake. Steve grumbled to himself and hesitantly turned over to face Eddie.

“For the love of god, what, Edward?” Steve mumbled.

“Guess what!”

“No.”

“Steven Michael, guess!”

“No! Now shut up before you wake the beast down the hall.”

“Please, just one guess.”

“For the last time, no.”

“You’re no fun.”

Steve sighed and rolled back over, burying himself in their covers. Eddie straddled his husband and ripped the covers from his face. Steve hissed at the cool air and eventually gave up, caving to his spouse’s antics.

“How many guesses do I get?” Steve whined.

“Three.”

“I’m only guessing once.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know, Eddie, for god’s sake, I want to sleep!”

“Come on!” Eddie started bouncing up and down.

“You better behave, I swear on my life.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Regardless, I’m too tired to deal with you.”

“Come on! Guess!”

“I don’t know—you bought the bar?”

“No! We got a gig as openers at the Hoosier Dome next weekend!”

“What‽” Steve was suddenly jolted awake in excitement. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“I would never,” Eddie guffawed.

“You’re really playing at the biggest arena in the state?”

“Sure am,” he smiled proudly. “You and Bobbs get to come backstage and all that. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Won’t it be past her bed– what the fuck am I saying? Screw her bedtime—she gets to see her father perform at the dome! Ugh, I’m so proud of you, Eds! Who’re you opening for?”

“Oh, no one big—just Gun N’ Roses,” Eddie said nonchalantly.

“Eds, that’s huge!”

Steve cheered as he pulled his sweaty husband down for a kiss. Eddie held onto Steve’s face and deepened their kiss, reducing it to teeth and tongues. Eddie rutted his hips into Steve, but Steve held onto him, holding him in place.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I’m so tired. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“But Stevie,” Eddie whined.

“What, Eds?”

“We haven’t had sex in ages… making me think you don’t find me attractive anymore.”

“Okay, first and foremost, that’s asinine. You’re literally a smoke show—always have been, always will be. Second, I know, it’s killing me too, but Bee has been running me into the ground. She’s just at that age where she has endless energy. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah… but even when she was a baby, and we were going days without sleeping, we still did stuff,” he pouted.

“Ed, ‘stuff’ was just you giving me head.”

“Yeah, and? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you not like how I give head?”

“What? No, I… what?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with how you suck my dick, okay?”

“So, like… can I, then?”

“Eddie, for the love of all that is holy, it is three in the morning. Please, for my sanity, let me sleep.”

“It’ll take like five minutes.”

“Hey! I don’t finish that fast.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t!”

“You have since we had the baby.”

“No… that can’t be true… can it?”

“It can be and it is. However, if you’re up for a challenge–”

“Okay, yeah, more so because I want to prove you wrong.”

Eddie chuckled to himself as he started shimmying Steve’s boxers down. The couple became intimate for the first time in ages and, much to Steve’s dismay, Eddie’s point had been proven right.

“Stevie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s infuriating. I had no idea I lost so much stamina!”

“It’s okay! Just an excuse to practice a bit more—get your times up,” Eddie teased.

“Very funny, Ed,” Steve scoffed.

“Listen, my offer with pegging still stands if you’re ever feeling lazy and just wanna lay there. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“Okay, we were talking about how I can’t last longer than five minutes. How on earth did you go from there to pegging?”

“I dunno.” Eddie shrugged as he cuddled up to Steve.

“No, you do know.”

“Didn’t you want to go to sleep?”

“Well, now I’m awake, dickhead. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, a few years, maybe.”

“Years?”

“Uh, yeah? You know how frustrating it is to be a dude without a dick? I just wanna do what you get to do. It’s not that deep.”

“Okay, well, let’s put that on the back burner for now.”

“Can we try it after my show next week?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Oh, god, how I love you.” Eddie gently kissed Steve’s neck as he rubbed circles into his chest. “Get some sleep, big boy—it’s your morning with the beast tomorrow.”

As the couple fell into a deep slumber, it was soon interrupted by their daughter screaming at the top of her lungs from the end of the hall. The boys were stirred awake, trying to gain a sense of where they were and what was going on.

“Is that Bobby?” Steve grumbled.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “It’s your night.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled, sitting up in bed. He trekked down to Bobby’s bedroom where he flicked on the light and knelt next to his toddler’s bed. “What’s up, Bee?”

“There’s ghosties under the bed!” She cried.

“What do they look like?”

“They don’t have faces…”

“I, um… what are they doing?”

“They have scissors and, and, and they’re cutting up the carpet. Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Okay, uh… hold on…”

Steve’s eyes were bulged out of his head as he made his way back to his bedroom. Sweat was collecting at his brow as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“You good over there, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“Nope, this one is yours.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he climbed out of bed to tend to his daughter. As the couple walked back down the hall, Eddie was desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

“Why was she screaming?” Eddie yawned.

“She saw ghosts under the bed. She said they were cutting up her carpet.”

“Dear lord.” Once Eddie crossed the threshold, he embraced his daughter in a warm hug, gently kissing the crown of her head. “Papa’s here, baby girl.”

“Papa, daddy! Make the ghosties go!” she sobbed.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie got down on his knees and peered under her bed. “Hey, guys? I know you’re having fun under there, but it’s late, and she’s little, so you’re scaring her. So maybe calm down on the carpet cutting for tonight.” Eddie popped his head back up and smiled at Bobby. “They said they’re sorry and they’re going to bed. You should get back to sleep too, princess.”

“But papa, I’m scared!”

“Do you want me and daddy to stay until you’re asleep? Just to make sure you’re safe?” She nodded profusely. “Okay. Do you want a lullaby or a bedtime story?”

“Both…” She said with a slight lisp, clutching her bumble gum pink comforter close to her chest.

“Okay. Stevie, do you wanna grab a book?”

“Sure. What do you want, pumpkin?”

“Goodnight Moon, please.”

“Alright. Do you want story or song first?”

“Story, please.

“Okay.”

Steve crawled into the bed, pulling Bobby into his lap. He straightened out her strawberry printed nightgown and made sure she was cozy in his embrace. Bobby pushed her messy curls out of her face so she could get a better look at the pages. Steve began reading in a soft, calming voice, slowly easing his daughter’s nerves. By the end of the book, she was half-asleep.

Steve shimmied her over to Eddie’s lap where he held her close against his chest, similar to when she was younger. He rubbed small circles into her back, making her melt further into his touch. Eddie started out by quietly humming before he finally started singing.

“Once there was a way,” he started, but was quickly stopped.

“I don’t want Golden Slumbers, papa,” Bobby mumbled.

“Uh, okay… but I always sing it to you…”

“I want the other one,” she whispered. Steve and Eddie looked to each other, puzzled—they had never sung anything else to her.

“What other one, honey?”

“The one pop-pop always sings,” she said into his chest.

What does Wayne sing? Steve mouthed.

I don’t know! Eddie mouthed back, panicked.

“Do you know how it goes?” Eddie asked.

“I dunno...”

Then it hit Steve—it was the same song that brought him and his husband together all those years ago. He had heard Wayne sing it from time-to-time when he insisted on putting Bobby down for a nap.

“If I Can Dream,” Steve smiled. Tears brimmed at Eddie’s eyes—their first date; their song.

“I can sing that, pumpkin,” Eddie whispered. “There must be lights burning brighter somewhere… got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue… if I can dream of a better land…”

Eddie sang the song in a slow, low voice until Bobby was fast asleep. He slipped out from under her, turned off her bedroom light, and the couple walked back to their bedroom for the night.

“How were you so calm?” Steve grit his teeth.

“Are you kidding‽ I fucking shit myself!”

The following days were filled with more or less the same. The boys would go through their morning routine, drop Bobby off with either Wayne or Pattie before heading off to work. Then, pick their little one up, have dinner as a family, put Bobby down for the night, then switch off who had to deal with her night terrors.

But then, finally, the fateful Saturday had come—Eddie was performing at the Hoosier Dome. He had to be at the arena for sound check around noon, which Steve and Bobby tagged along for. Once that was all set, it was Guns N’ Roses’ turn to take the stage and rehearse until the show that evening. Corroded Coffin was free to roam around Indianapolis until four or five—as long as they were back by six, management couldn’t care less what they were up to.

The Harrington’s roamed around the city, taking Bobby anywhere she wanted to go. Around three in the afternoon, Bobby started to get a bit tired, so she urged her dads to sit down and rest. Eddie found a quaint brick wall that he happily hopped onto, hauling Bobby up onto his lap shortly after.

The cool breeze brushed through each of their curls and Steve couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful family. All he could think was how he got so lucky. How he ended up with such a gorgeous, loving family.

As Steve was off in his own la la land, Eddie adjusted Bobby’s bright yellow puffer jacket and her pale pink skirt (which was layered on top of some thermal leggings to keep her from catching a cold). She insisted on dressing herself for this momentous occasion, but Eddie and Steve would be damned if she’d be left to freeze.

In protest of her warm outfit, Bobby demanded she’d bring along her heart-shaped sunglasses—while Steve thought it was ridiculous, Eddie fed into his daughter’s antics and brought along his black shades as well. Oh, how the two troublemakers were similar in endless ways.

By six, Eddie was back at the arena for a final run through with Corroded Coffin, while Steve took Bobby out for dinner. They weren’t going on until eight, so Steve figured they had time to kill. At seven forty-five on the dot, Steve brought Bobby back to the dressing rooms to wish her father good luck on his set.

Eddie held Bobby close in an embrace, hugging her so tight you’d think it would be the last time he’d ever see her. He pressed a kiss into her forehead before placing giant, noise-cancelling headphones over her ears to protect her from the booming chaos of the arena. The stage hands ushered Corroded Coffin to the stage-wings, with Steve and Bobby tailing closely behind.

At eight sharp, the band stormed the stage, screeching their instruments to get the crowd going. Shortly after, Eddie boomed into the microphone: “hello, Indianapolis!” The arena erupted with cheers—Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

“How’re we feeling tonight?” Everyone cheered again. “Love it, love it! You guys should know, you’re our first big gig. Make some noise for yourselves, come on!”

And they did—Steve did his best to clap for his husband as he held Bobby up on his hip. Bobby held her hands firmly against her headphones, stunned and overwhelmed by all the commotion. Steve gently bounced her up and down as he pointed to his husband on stage. Bobby eventually put two and two together and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Papa’s on stage!” She cheered. “Daddy, look! Papa’s on stage!”

“I know, pumpkin, I see him,” he chuckled.

Corroded Coffin played their first few songs before Eddie decided to speak to the crowd again. It was when he stopped to take a sip of water, shortly chased with complimentary beer the arena provided.

“How’re we feeling, Indianapolis‽” Cheers erupted from the audience once more. “Good, good,” Eddie chuckled. “Before we sing our last few songs, I’d like to take a second to thank everyone who made tonight possible.” Eddie started rattling off names of managers, event coordinators, Guns N’ Roses themselves, and finally, his own family. “Last, but certainly not least, my own beautiful, supportive, amazing husband—and yes, you all did hear that correctly. He’s supported me since we met back in ‘85 and he hadn’t missed a gig until we had our gorgeous daughter, and even then, he told me to get back to performing as soon as I was able to. Everyone, please, give it up for my husband. None of this could’ve been possible without him.” The crowd applauded weakly. “Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that! Give it up for my husband, ladies and gents! Come on!” Cheers and applause flooded the arena. “Yeah, that’s more like it! Alright, I think you’ve earned this last song. Hit it!”

As the band closed out with their grand finale, Bobby started kicking at Steve’s stomach, wanting to be put down to dance. She ran over to the stairs leading up to the stage and eagerly jumped up and down to the beat.

When the song finished, and everyone went to go bow, Bobby slipped through the cracks of all the production coordinators (and Steve) and ran onto the stage to smother Eddie with hugs.

“Bobby, no!” Steve yelled.

But it was no use—she couldn’t hear him through the headphones. Eddie spotted the brightly colored girl out of the corner of his eye, dropped to his knees, gingerly setting down his guitar, and wrapped his daughter in a warm embrace. She tackled him to the ground, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh.

He squeezed her tight, running his hands through her tight ringlets, and placed a million kisses all over her face. Tears prickled are Eddie’s eyes as the entire audience faded into the background.

At the end of the day, she was what made it all worth it.

“Papa, you did so good!” She yelled, not knowing the volume of her own voice.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he beamed. He sat up, still hugging her, as the stage crew started setting up for the main act. “We should go before we get in trouble. C’mon.”

He stood up, hiking Bobby up onto his hip, as he handed his guitar to a random stage-hand. He held her close as he headed for the stairs, meeting Steve with a warm hug.

“You did so good, baby,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“And you!” Steve started, pointing sternly at his toddler. “Never run away from me like that again, do you understand? Scared me half to death, Bobby.”

“Sorry, daddy…”

“Oh, give her a break. She was just excited,” Eddie said. “I appreciated the hugs. I wouldn’t mind if it became a post-show tradition,” he teased.

“Let’s not get carried away.” Steve rolled his eyes, hand rubbing up and down Eddie’s sweaty back.

“So, Harrington…” Eddie leaned in to whisper in his husband’s ear. “Our deal still on?” Steve’s eyes widened as he blushed up to his ears—Eddie smirked proudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #steve x eddie #lgbtq #transgender #trans eddie munson #joseph quinn #joe kerry #wayne munson #corroded coffin #guns n roses #netflix #pride #lgbt pride #ftm eddie munson #parent steddie