#prompt: representation

[coffeewasamistake]

Interview with Eddie Munson

(read part one)

For the Mini Pride Bingo hosted by @genderthings.

[AO3]

Prompt: Representation | Rating: Gen | WC: 2121 | Relationships : Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin&Eddie Munson Tags: Rock star Eddie Munson, interview

Summary:

A year after coming out on live TV, Rock star Eddie Munson finally ends his media break for an exclusive interview. Between a solo album and his personal projects, he has a lot to say.

Last Tuesday I had the pleasure of meeting renowned guitarist, singer and songwriter Eddie Munson. We talked about his new album, Forbidden Fruit, and his decision to sign this album alone, his future projects with Corroded Coffin, and what he hoped the future had in store for him. 

Martha Collins: So, Mr. Munson…

Eddie Munson: Eddie, please. [He smiles.] Mr. Munson is what the cops call my uncle.

M.C. : Right. Eddie then. I’m Martha.

E.M. : I know! I kinda choose you myself for this interview. [He winks at me.]

M.C. : Oh, that’s great to hear! Now, Eddie, after five albums signed under the Corroded Coffin name, you’ve surprised everyone with a more personal creation. Tell me, what made you decide to write a solo album? No troubles with the rest of the band, I hope?

E.M. : Oh, I spent last Friday afternoon helping Jeff get his kid’s puke out of the carpet, so believe me, we’ve never been closer! No, the thing is, I wrote a lot of songs that weren’t really Corroded Coffin material in the last decade, and with everything that happened last year, I felt it was time to properly work on that. So, I spent some time in the studio, and before I knew it, I had an album ready.

M.C. : When you say, “everything that happened last year,” you mean your coming-out on live TV and the subsequent backlash that occurred. 

E.M. : Yeah. I had wanted to say these words for a long time now, but I was afraid of what people would say, and the consequences not only for me but also for the rest of the band. 

M.C. : A lot of people have declared after your coming-out that you weren’t good enough for metal anymore. [He scoffs] With this solo album, which, if I understand correctly, is radically different from Corroded Coffin’s usual style, aren’t you worried about being rejected by your fans again?

E.M. : Listen, I really don’t care if me or my music offend people. That’s our whole thing. If they want to spat in my face because my music is suddenly “wrong" in their eyes, when two years ago I was their idol, then they are no better than the people judging them for their own beliefs and their taste in music. They would sound just like the ones who scream that metal is the work of the devil, and I don’t have time for their hypocrisy. I walk to my own rhythm.

M.C. : So this album is what, an act of rebellion?

E.M. : In some ways, yes, it is an act of rebellion. My music always is. I don’t think I ever wrote a single song without a hint of revolt in it. Even my love songs. Especially them, I think, because when I wrote about love, there was always the reminder that society hated it. Hated me. Hated what I’m sharing with Stevie. That I had to hide who’s my muse because otherwise my label would throw me out with the trash. But now it’s different. I’m not hiding anymore, I’m embracing it. Throwing it back in people’s faces, in a way. Nothing about me conforms to society’s idea of what is "right," or "normal," and that’s okay. So, I guess this album is about rebelling against the system, just like my work with the boys [the other members of Corroded Coffin], but in a more personal way. It’s the quiet rebellion of choosing to be yourself, no matter what.

M.C. : So Forbidden Fruit is about love, amongst other things? 

E.M. : It’s a lot about love, yeah. I talk about my relationship with Stevie, everything that hurt about it and all the ways it makes me feel alive. Why our love is worth the pain, you know? But it’s not just a Stevie-and-I lovefest. I talk about other people too. Prom Queen is about a good friend of mine who struggled a lot with parental and peer pressure, including her choice in romantic partners, and a lot of other very difficult issues. And all of it was tied to this obligation she thought she had to conform to the image other people had of her. It hurt her deeply, and getting past these hindrances was a complicated journey. So Prom Queen is a song dedicated to her strength.

Now, on the other side we have Malboro Boy. This song is about that guy I hated in high school, who clearly felt like he had to be his most aggressive self, like he had to be top dog, you know? If he wanted to be a real man. He’s the reason why Stevie is hard of hearing by the way.

M.C. : How so?

E.M. : Well, real men fight, so, of course, he had to deal with everything with his fists. [His laugh is bitter.] Basically, Steve put himself before Billy, that’s the guy’s name, and one of the kids he baby-sat, and he got his face pummeled in. He got a concussion, and an ear that barely work and rings more often than not. And these two stories are about the same problem, but they don’t end the same way. My friend Chrissy had a very close brush with death and it really changed how she saw life, so she escaped all the conformity, the heteronormativity, you know? But Billy never had the occasion to grow past all the fucked up ideas that had been put in his head by assholes and society as a whole. And even if he was a real bastard, he didn’t deserve that. That’s an important part of the album, I think, this idea that you deserve better than the chains of conformity. Everyone should be free to present themselves to the world as they really are, and I hope my music can help some people in this aspect.

M.C. : That’s a great reason to share these songs with your fans, Eddie. But now, you briefly talked about your partner Steve, and how you sing about your relationship with him. Is that him on the cover?

E.M. : Oh, the cover. Let me tell you, I heard a lot of shit about that cover from basically everyone I know. Apparently, it was very romantic of me, which, okay. I admit, it can be seen like that. I did put my boyfriend on my cover album after all. But there was no need for everyone to heckle me for it!

M.C. : I’m pretty sure friends are contractually obligated to do that.

E.M. : If they aren’t, they hide it well. But yeah, that’s Stevie. Half-naked. Biting in an apple.

M.C. : And the apple is bleeding.

E.M. : Eating the forbidden fruit is fun, but it can hurt. You gotta know what you’re signing up for. Life’s tough like that.

M.C. : Are you the forbidden fruit? For Steve.

E.M. : Our love is the forbidden fruit. First because of the whole gay thing, because according to a lot of angry people, boys aren’t supposed to kiss boys. You just can’t do that. I wasn’t supposed to touch Steve, kiss him, fuck him, and I was certainly not supposed to fall in love with him. That’s like, the first rule of conformity. Love thy neighbor, but not too much if you can’t make babies together. And on top of that huge interdiction, there was a second layer, the social one. I was not even supposed to be friends with my man, because before being Stevie, he was King Steve. The guy who planned the best parties, ran with jocks like him, dated cheerleaders and was captain of two sports teams. Two! The top of the top of the fucked up little society high school was. And me? I was at the bottom of the ladder. I was a nerd, a freak, and a rumored satanist. I couldn’t touch the King. It would have been a crime.

M.C. : But you did fall in love.

E.M. : Yes, and that’s the best thing in my life, our love, but when we were teenagers, you would have never believed we were going to end up together. Our love was definitely of the forbidden kind, but hell did we bite the fruit. And even now, after all these years, we’re still fighting everything and everyone to keep loving each other.

M.C. : It impacted your work pretty badly. Last year, when you came out, it was not just your fans who reacted to it. Your label dropped you. Did the rest of the band resent you for that?

E.M. : No, never. But, you know, I would not have come out without their approval. Because I’m not just Eddie, I’m Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin, so everything I do has an impact on the boys. In fact, they were the one who convinced me to do it. We had a fight or two about it. They knew hiding my relationship with Stevie was hurting me deeply, and they all decided that we could take the fall. We’ve made a few albums, Stevie forced us to be clever with our money, we were not going to end up on the streets. And Jeff had a baby on the way, so we needed to take a break anyway. I was just scared to take that step. In the end, that whole stupid rumor made me lose my shit a little, and yeah. I did it. 

M.C. : Your real fans will be happy to hear you did not fight about it. Does that mean we can hope for a new Corroded Coffin album in the coming years? Maybe a tour? And what about another Eddie album?

E.M. : Yes, maybe, yes. I’m already working on songs for the band. I’m always sharing a little something with the boys when I see them. It’s going slow, because my solo music and our personal lives get in the way, but it’s going. A tour… It’s more complicated. Jeff is a dad now, and Gareth is looking a bit too wide-eyed when he holds the kid. And I’m not even talking about Stevie, he’s a pile of goo every time a child is involved. So we might not go on tour for a few years. Can’t leave babies at home for too long without seeing them. But if you’re already asking for a second solo album, don’t worry. I haven’t used all my material, and I’m leaving full time with my muse, so… The inspiration is not drying out, believe me.

M.C. : You’re thirty-three, your bandmates are having children… Are you thinking about fatherhood?

E.M. : That’s the plan, yes. Of course, it’s not as easy for us as for the guys, because we don’t have the bits for it, but we have great people around us. We’ve talked about it with Stevie’s best friend and her girlfriend, and yeah, we… we’re going to be parents. Soon, I hope. It’s going to be sort of a communal baby, but that just means they’ll be even more loved! And it’s reassuring, in a way, to know my child will never be left without a parent, even if I have to go on tour, or if something happens to me. And Stevie would not have to raise them alone either. [He smiles sadly.] Sorry, that was a really depressing thing to say! But I didn’t exactly grow up with two loving parents, so…

M.C. : You lost your mother young, didn’t you? Do you think she would be proud of the man you’ve become?

E.M. : [His expression softens.] Yes, she would be so proud. I don’t know if I believe in like, God, or anything, but I hope there’s an afterlife, and she can see me. She taught me how to play guitar, you know. She made me love music. Now I have a career as a guitarist and a singer, I have great friends around me, a man I love by my side, and I’m planning to have a child of my own. What’s not to be happy about?

M.C: No, I think you’ve made it. You won at life.

E.M. : Ah! I definitely did.

M.C. : I think we’re reaching the end of this interview. Do you have anything else to say for your readers?

E.M. : Believe in your dreams, I guess. Never let other people kill your creativity or your identity. Love who you love. And stay true to your friends, always. Family is made of people life gifts to you, and people you choose. Keep choosing them in everything you do.

[tothechaos]

gonna be showing up to my drawing class on monday with a still life of sex toys and all i can think is "average liberal arts college experience"

[psychomusic]

induced to me by my contemporary art exam AND a rewatch of rebels after years that. got me into sabezra unexpectedly AND i updated krita and there were many new brushes i wanted to try

refs (IF U CAN PLS HELP ME FIND THE ORIGINAL COSPLAYERS i can't find anything EDIT: found them!! they're starwars_irl on insta and @rebelartistwren / lionesscosplay on insta. thank you guys <3) and ✨colored version✨ under the cut

i can't find themmmmm I've been looking for 2 days but all i found were uncredited reposts

anyway they look amazing

i really wanted to try greyscaling but I'm not sure it looks good. idk. + while i was making it i was listening to i love you by fontaines d.c. (GREAT SONG FROM A GREAT UNDERRATED BAND) and. the grey fit into that mood much better

also two versions without the sketch lines. where ezra looks happier even if they're uglier

[personinthepalace]

FELIGAMI KISSES - MIRACULOUS LADYBUG S5

[tomaturtles]

She finds Kaworu in the same place she left him, sitting against the wall with his head in his hands. The candlelight sets off an amber glow, and in the halo of light, she can see Kaworu’s shoulders shaking, his breath hitching in little hics. The tallies drawn on the wall behind him shine like hundreds of tiny white gravestones.

Kawoshin Week Day 5: Rebuild/Q + Timelooping Gays Crossover! Based on the Evangelion x Madoka Magica crossover fic graduation day by phollie, which I adore

[localcanadiancreature62]

Hey y'alls. The BillfordWeek2024 event starts TODAY!. And i don't want to be the only entry right now so pspspspsps @cecilscribbles @agothorn @nico-the-overlord @antonymziie @aaabatteryy loook.

[artbyfuji]

Rosebird Week Day 1: Red Thread of Fate

[4rrenstep]

Lotf + Peter Pan AU Scene 12

- CW: Implied transphobia (but not really)

Ralph: [sudden outburst]

I’m not anyone’s mother! Not here. Not back home. Not anywhere.

Jack: [perched lazily on his throne of driftwood and bone, blinking slowly]

…What?

Ralph: [the outburst catches up to him--he hesitates, frowns, his voice smaller now]

I told you… I’m Ralph. That’s my name. I’m not a-- [he glances down at the nightgown] --not a girl. I’m not your guys's mother. I’m just...me.

Jack: [rises from his seat and tilts his head, genuinely puzzled. not cruel, just oblivious in the way children can be]

But you look like one. Your hands are clean. You’ve got that ribbon. And the dress.

Ralph: [defensive]

It’s not a dress, it’s a nightgown.

Jack: [floating back slowly, kicking his legs in the air]

…For girls.

Ralph: [grits his teeth, sighs--not in anger now, but in tiredness, and he’s had this conversation a thousand times in his own head]

You really don’t get it, do you?

Jack: [shrugs, still upside down mid air]

I don’t have to. You said your name’s Ralph. That’s good enough for me. Besides, you don't feel like a mother anyway.

[Ralph looks at Jack--really looks--and something settles in him. Jack’s confusion isn’t cruel, and it isn’t judgment. There was no ridicule in his voice, no edge of mockery, just a child’s simple acceptance: Ralph was Ralph. Jack doesn’t see Ralph the way others do--not as wrong, not as broken, not even as different. He just sees Ralph. Not because he understands, but because he doesn’t think there’s anything to understand. And somehow, that felt… enough. Not right, not fair, but enough.]

[r3ynah]

HAIRDRESSER percy!headcanon

percy jackson prompt

I head canon Percy is great at styling hair, no matter what texture or length it is he will always find a hairstyle that fits the person, he has one or two magazines hidden somewhere in his cabin and at least five back at New York.

And we have Sally Jackson to thank for that, growing up Percy was definitely a lonely child approaching other children in hopes of befriending them only to be rejected, Sally always looked at him with a heavy heart whenever he would run into her arms crying.

To keep Percy at least somewhat happy and busy she would let him help her around the house, which he didn't mind- he was more than happy to spend time with his mom even if it was boring, through this he learned how to be great at cooking, sewing, and carpentry.

It was a hot day when Percy noticed that his mom's usually undone hair was put up into a braided bun while working around the house, interested in the intricate pattern that the braid did and how her hair was in a circular shape, so normally as the curious child he is, he asked.

And a brand-new door of interest opened up for him, after a week of Sally teaching him the basics, he would ask his mom if he could style her hair before she went to work, which she happily obliged Sally would go strutting in her workplace with a ponytail to loose or tight and a bun too messy, and would come back home with her hair undone and request Percy if he could put her hair up again, which makes the little boy squeal in delight as he readies hair accessories he bought with his pocket money to style with.

These are moments where Sally would let Percy's creativity get to him as he tried more unique hairstyles, Sally would fall asleep to her son muttering to himself if he should add more braids or lessen it and would wake up to a head full of hair clips, and eventually every day he got better and better.

When they were sent off to retrieve the stolen lightning bolt, Percy noticed Annabeth getting annoyed every time she tried to tame her unruly hair when they had the time to take a break, he didn't know if he should help or not since it's not like they were friends in the first place, but he yearned for some normalcy ever since he was revealed as a demigod, so with a few more minutes of thinking and watching Annabeth struggle he sighed and removed a scrunchie off his wrist and stood up, Annabeth stared at him with her grey eyes filled of confusion as she noticed the boy moving closer to her.

With an awkward smile, he gazed down at her and asked if he could help her tie her hair up, so she wouldn't get distracted by it when they traveled, a few minutes of Annabeth judgingly looking him up and down and a voice laced of hesitance asking if he could really style hair she complied, and was pleasantly surprised at the simple but neat ponytail Percy did, ever since that day Annabeth would ask him to do her hair and every single time Percy did not dissapoint.

And now a few years later, in the present, every once in a while, a younger camper, nymph, naiad, or Oceanid would ask if he could do their hair and Percy would immediately accept no matter what the length or texture of the hair, he would have a little shoulder bag on him or a fanny pack just full of hair accessories and brushes of different kind ready just in case one of the campers had a bad hair day.

[fangs-n-fluff]

Poc Regressor who’s insecure about/ dislikes their hair because their hair is “different” than others.

X

Caregiver who helps their regressor love their hair regardless of what someone else thinks.

Regressor: “Woah… Mama/Dada/Bubba… my… my hair…”

[ Caregiver who may or may not have stayed up late for the past couple nights to learn how to do the hair style Regressor wanted ]

Caregiver: “Do you like it sweetheart…?”

Regressor: “I— I love it! Mama/Dada/Bubba— I- I like how my hair looks!! It’s so pretty/ Handsome/ cool!!”

[ Regressor hugs Caregiver with a big smile. ]

Regressor: “T’ank you!! Fank’ you!!”

[ Caregiver is sleeping peacefully until getting woken up by a few taps and the sound of soft sobs. ]

Regressor: “Mama/Dada/Bubba!!! M’— My hair!! I— I messed everyt’ing up!!”

Caregiver: “Hm? Wait— *yawn* huh?— what’s wrong honey? Why the tears? What happened? C’mere,”

Regressor: “M’… my hair… my— my bonnet slipped off ‘n… my hair got ruined!! N’ yo-you’s worked so hard on it…”

Caregiver: “Oh lovebug… can you look at me baby?”

[ Caregiver holds regressor’s face, ]

Caregiver: “It’s okay to make mistakes darling, and your bonnet slipping off isn’t your fault, even if it was—guess what kiddo?”

[ Regressor wipes their tears between some sobs. ]

Regressor: “Wat..?”

Caregiver: “It’s just hair. Just cause a mistake happened, doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed, and also—I love doing your hair baby. You’re not in trouble, this just means we can do an even prettier/ more handsome/ cooler hairstyle.”

Regressor: “Wait— really..?”

Caregiver: “Of course sweetheart.”

Caregiver: “How do you want your hair done sweetheart?”

Regressor: “Um… I.. I wanna wear my hair free today…”

Caregiver: “Okay! We can do that sweetheart!”

Regressor: “But… Mama/ Dada/ Bubba… I.. what if other kids call my hair messy ‘gain..?”

Caregiver: “Sweetpea… look at me, your hair isn’t messy, some people just don’t understand your type of hair all the time…”

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Make your Whumpees Chronically Ill.

What kind? Do they have Chronic Pain? Chronic Fatigue? Dietary illnesses? Connective tissue diseases? Autoimmune disorders? Something made up or fantasy based? Something else entirely?

What does their day-to-day look like? Maybe they don't need a Whumper to be suffering. Can they take care of themselves, or do they need help? Do they get that help? What happens if they don't? What happens if there is a Whumper using this against them, or a Caretaker who doesn't understand? Make them flare up, then worsen all their symptoms!

For invisible illnesses; Do people believe them when they say they're sick even though no one can see it on the outside? Do they struggle with not being able to see what they feel themselves?

For more visible illnesses; Do they face discrimination and ableism? Do people treat them differently, do people infantalise them? How do they feel about that?

Questions;

What are their symptoms like?

Do they flare up?

If their health worsens, will it ever recover?

Do they mourn the life they had before it got to this point?

Do they have a diagnosis, or even know what's wrong?

What gives them respite?

What makes them worse?

Do they suffer with mental health issues as well, and are they because of the Chronic Illness or a secondary thing to suffer?

Pain;

Neuropathic pain;

Widespread, often nerve based pains from a nervous system disease or disorder

Allodynia- tactile, thermal or mechanical allodynia, even the lightest touch can hurt, and your skin feels raw and bruised. Pressing on it hurts deeply, to the bone. Pain can worsen with temperature fluctuations, warm and/or cold.

Parasthesia- peripheral neuropathy, partial or full numbness, tingling, pricking, vice like or lightning-like pains, weakness in the affected areas. Can worsen with compression, such as restraints or stress positions, and can come and go.

Nociceptive pain;

Somatic sharp pain that's localised to the affected area and can be caused by long term, unhealing or reocurrent damage and injury

Visceral aching pain that's widespread and can be caused by systemic disease

Inflammation- hot, aching pains that throb incessantly, seizing joints and knotted muscles, brain fog, headaches and sluggish thoughts, stabbing tendons and sharp pain in ligaments, swelling, tenderness and redness

Dislocations, subluxations and connective tissue weakness, weak joints that can contort beyond what is normal, soft skin that bruises breaks and scars with ease, never ending joint pain, grinding bone against bone and broken cartlidge, permanently altered movements from ligament damage, agonisingly powerful sharp stabbing pains at certain movements

General:

Pain that's worst when waking. Pain that gets worse throughout the day. Pain that's worse in heat or in cold, pain that changes with the weather

Dissociation as a way to cope with the pain, to the point when they realise just where hurts it's like being hit by a truck. Depersonalization to the point they don't know who they even are, they don't feel alive, these limbs are not their own. Derealisation to the point reality feels like it's taken a step to the left, like they're a ghost and the real world is behind a pane of glass. Both blanketing over them in a desperate attempt by the brain to stop the pain that would have them screaming without it.

Pain that they no longer respond to, what's the use in screaming when it never ends. Chronic pain that masks the acute pain of injuries they didn't realise you had. (Ask me how I know...) Chronic pain that has medical professionals shocked at how little they react to things that cause severe pain. Chronic pain that wears down their tolerance for everything else, that makes them snappy, irritable and angry.

Vice like pains, twisting clawing tearing inside muscles, pain when they move, speak, even breathe.

Pain that never ends and isn't touched by most medications. Pain that IS helped by some medications, but the side affects are terrible, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, hallucinations, bladder and bowel issues, slurred speech and a hazy mind

Pain they cannot see that drives them to hurt themselves on purpose just to feel in control of it, just to be able to see what they feel upon their skin

Pain that will make them do anything for it to stop, pain that takes their hope away, robs them of their dreams, makes them want to end it all

Fatigue;

Fatigue that drives a haze over their brain and tears their memory to shreds. Slurred words, sentences said in the wrong order, fatigue that has neurological bases. Fatigue that turns a once sharp mind into a rambling incoherent mess. The ability to read, write, speak, listen all taken away, so the world becomes an incoherent mess too.

Fatigue that causes insomnia, so they end up physically exhausted AND fatigued at the same time

Fatigue that's worsened with light, sound and being upright, and can only be managed by aggressive resting, lying still in the silent darkness.

Fatigue that comes in waves, fatigue that flares if they overexert; Post Exertional Malaise, limbs weak and pumped full of lead, tachycardia, inability to stand or walk, inability to eat, think, drink, speak

Fatigue that feels like the flu, fever, swollen glands, hoarse throat and blood pressure dysregulation, fainting and dehydration

Dark circles under eyes that only seem to worsen over time. Weight loss and muscle wastage, ability draining away.

Fatigue that feels like dying whilst alive, that no one understands, that isolates until there's nothing left. Fatigue that strips of everything that made them who they were, until they are just a shell of a living thing.

Make your Whumpees Chronically Ill.

Sincerely, a Chronically Ill fuck who is suffering far too much today and wants to see more representation.

This are purely based on my own experiences, and is by no means exhaustive, hell, I've only scratched the very surface of my own chronic illnesses here.

Feel free to add to this!

[neongalaxiie]

Hello, could you please use your magic and do something with this?

Supervillain doesn't like people. He just works with some of them cuz they're mildly useful and he absolutely doesn't want to spend his time with them. Well, bad for him. His team knows he has a birthday and they know he doesn't have anyone else and they baked a cake.

Thank you so much. I love your work, btw.

Haha, INTJ supervillain >:) This is perfect

Thanks Anon!

~~~

The door slid closed behind Supervillain as he flipped the light switch. He sighed, relieved.

Home. He was home at last.

His entire body ached, and he felt mentally exhausted. Working with people for that long without a break did that to his brain.

And he had to endure it every single day.

He headed over to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Despite it being late and all, he wasn't ready to go to bed. There was work to be done.

Dipping the tea bag in and out a few times, Supervillain walked past the fridge and noticed his calendar. Ah, right. He'd seen that this morning as well.

Tomorrow's his birthday. And if he was born in 1996, and this year was 2025, then he'd be turning...

He'd be turning 29.

He gave a disapproving groan as he took his tea to the living room and set it on the coffee table, opening his laptop instead. Tomorrow wouldn't be any different. It'll pass by like any other torturous day, and...

Oh.

There's a meeting tomorrow.

Supervillain moaned in pain. Should he skip it? Was it worth risking the team's anger and trust?

Probably not.

Supervillain took a sip of his tea and brought the laptop onto his lap. By the time he had finished his tea and decided to go to bed, it was way past midnight.

...

The meeting was being held in a torturous place.

A room full of people.

Supervillain stepped into the room with a scowl on his face. The Red Bull he'd downed on the way was doing miracles for his mood and sleep deprivation.

It didn't do anything for his ability to work with morons.

To their credit, not everyone in the group was a moron. Some were a little smarter, Leader was actually really intelligent, and all the rest were downright idiots.

Nevertheless, Supervillain pitched into the meeting whenever he felt fit, presenting genius ideas for the next move of the team. He had to admit, the smartest thing the rest of the team as a collective did was at least listen to him when he spoke.

Finally, the meeting concluded. Just as Supervillain was finishing packing up his belongings, Leader spoke up, "And I'll be expecting you all at our storehouse next to the docks in preparation for our next plan at 6 pm sharp." Leader locked eyes with Supervillain, and the corner of their mouth quirked upward. "Don't be late."

Supervillain turned back to his bag, gritting his teeth, and left the room first. Everyone else stayed behind to chat, or whatever they do after meetings.

6 pm. Supervillain only had a few hours to gather his bearings before he had to leave again. And the docks were so far away as well. Whatever Leader was thinking, it wasn't funny.

The hours passed much faster than they had to, and Supervillain speed-walked through the maze of shipping containers toward the storehouse. He finished off another can of Red Bull as he approached the doors, and slid them open.

Everyone was already inside. "Surprise!" They shouted.

Supervillain's mind had to catch up with the scene. The room was decorated in... bright colors. Streamers, balloons, and other garbage took up the space, and Villain was carrying a big, fricking cake.

And by the look of the cake, they must've baked it themselves. Supervillain cringed and muttered, "What the hell is this?"

"Well, obviously, since you so kindly bothered to tell us," Leader slammed the sliding door behind Supervillain, making them jump, before slinging an arm over his shoulders, "we made you a surprise party. You're welcome."

Supervillain pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leader, please," he sighed. "I'm really not--"

Villain swore loudly, catching everyone else's attention. "Hurry it up already, this damn thing is heavy!"

"I'm not in the mood," Supervillain finished, glaring at Villain, who almost dropped the cake. "Thanks, but," he threw Leader's arm off his shoulders, "no thanks."

Supervillain turned back to the door, but Leader blocked it with an arm. "Alright, Supervillain, what's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong with me at the moment," Supervillain balled his fists, "but if you don't move in two seconds, there'll be something wrong... with your face."

A chorus of oohs overtook the back of the room, and Leader bit their bottom lip to supress a chuckle. "Fiesty, are we? Are you tired?"

"Y-yes! That's it, I'm just tired."

"You just drank a whole can of Red Bull."

Supervillain looked at the empty can in his hand, and Leader folded their arms. "Come on, just for half an hour, and then you can go home and mope around in your underwear or something."

Supervillain sighed, and let Leader lead them to the back of the room. The cheers that erupted only deepened his scowl, and the group gathered around to sing him "Happy Birthday". Supervillain wished he could die right then and there.

Afterwards, Other Supervillain cut the cake, which tasted surprisingly better than it looked. Everyone else started chatting over cake, and Supervillain was content to just stand to the side and listen.

Overall, it wasn't too bad, though Supervillain would never admit to anything more.

True to his word, Supervillain left after exactly thirty minutes. He waved goodbye to the rest of them and left.

The first to leave.

It didn't matter. He'd see these humans again tomorrow, and this time, it'll be back to work.

Supervillain smirked. After today, he could hardly wait.

[peaches2217]

Given it’s like 2 degrees where I live: 🥶!

🥶 - Cold

First Snow

Inspired by this piece by the exceptional @akiiame-blog!

EDIT: AO3 Link!

~~~

Gonnnng! Gonnnng! Gonnnng!

Mario’s stomach dropped into his feet hard enough to make him stumble. The clock in Toad Town’s central square rang the hour out, ten resounding, musical gongs that rattled his very bones. They pushed him to sprint faster once he recovered his footing, and though the frigid air burned his throat and lungs like fire, he forged ahead with unprecedented determination.

Of all days to get distracted by snowfall! Now he would have no choice but to take the pipes at the base of Castle Hill. They would shave valuable minutes off of his commute, but the shortcut wasn’t particularly fun, being sized to accommodate creatures who reached three feet tall at the tallest. 

Though the closer to the castle he drew, the more he saw that he was hardly the only one who’d fallen victim to the snow’s charm. Toads spilled from their homes and places of business and even from the schools, filling the streets (and forcing Mario to dodge and leap over them at every turn) to make snowtoads and pelt one another with snowballs and share warm drinks with their friends. That was his out, he decided quickly, and he practiced his wording as he flew through the pipes. You know I’m never late, Princess, please forgive me! I’ve never seen the town so crowded this early. It wasn’t a lie, after all.

Surprisingly, the castle grounds looked much the same as the town itself did. Straight out of the final warp pipe, Mario was met with a flurry of merriment, everyone from visiting families to familiar staff and groundskeepers mingling about, frolicking and playing or otherwise watching their children frolic and play.

And straight ahead, on the bridge gapping the frozen moat, a form in all shades of gold and pink towered over those Toads. She caught Mario’s eyes as soon as he looked her way, and suddenly he felt far warmer than an extensive run could ever make him feel.

“Mario!” Peach’s cheery voice carried with ease as they began in one another’s directions. A luxurious pale pink cape fluttered behind her as she approached, tied in the front with a white bow to which her favorite brooch was fastened. Beneath it, a dress that looked nigh identical to her favorite day-to-day dress, but with long sleeves hidden beneath wool-trimmed gloves.

Mario gulped. Somehow, she was always more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her.

But the warm glow of her presence chilled as they reached one another, and he was forced to acknowledge that he had let her down. He knew his tardiness bothered him far more than it would bother her; admittedly, he was a bit miffed (but undoubtedly grateful) at how easily she overlooked his every fault. Still, he would be remiss to not hold himself accountable. Pulling his cap from his head, he drew in a deep breath—

“Please forgive me.” The words came not from his lips, but from Peach’s.

“...Princess?”

“I had hoped my letter would reach you before you left home,” she continued, casting her eyes aside, her smile turning regretful. “The Public Council will be postponed to next week, in accordance with the First Snow. I’m truly sorry to drag you out here on such a dreary day…”

Mario’s first response was relief. He hadn’t let his beloved Princess down after all! And as much pride as he took in being Peach’s personal guard, attending the monthly Public Council with her was perhaps his least favorite obligation. Standing still and not offering his own opinions as Counciltoads and townsfolk alike shouted over each other about every relevant social and political talking point — for three hours — was a challenge that tired even him. Letting out an exaggerated Phew! and wiping not-so-imaginary sweat from his brow, he slapped his cap back over his hair, and this elicited a small chuckle from Peach.

His second response: confusion.

“First Snow?” Glancing briefly away, he took in the clusters of Toads enjoying the winter scenery once more, and this time he recognized Councilmembers and Chairholders and, well, everyone who usually spent their work days inside the castle walls. And here they were, outside, having themselves a jolly old time. “So today’s like a holiday?”

A matching confusion flickered across Peach’s features. “Yes, of course. You’re aware of…” And just as suddenly, her eyes went wide, and she pressed a palm to her reddening cheek. “No, you’re not aware, are you? I don’t think you were here the last time it snowed!”

Mario couldn’t help but beam at her embarrassed gesture. Even he hadn’t realized it at first, looking out his frosty window that morning.  This was only his second winter in the Mushroom Kingdom, and last winter brought nothing but barren trees and the occasional patch of ice, nothing resembling the powdery luster that blanketed everything in sight today.

That Toad Town hadn’t always been his home became easier to forget with each passing day. He wondered, with a bristle of excitement he couldn’t quite put a name to, if Peach had momentarily forgotten as well.

“Hey,” he said, rocking on his heels, “since I’m already here, maybe you could… explain it all to me? I’m always up for learning new things about the MK! And clearly I’ve still got a lot to learn, yeah?”

Bold of him, perhaps, trying to petition royalty to give him their free time. Surely there were thousands of other tasks Peach would have been better off seeing to. But some nagging feeling in his stomach told Mario that she would much rather spend the morning with him than tending to dreary administrative duties, and he would sooner fulfill that desire and his own desire to be at her side for as long as possible than turn around and head back home.

Peach blinked, and in that fraction of a second he swore her face lit up. But if it did, she got it under control quickly, leaving him with nothing more than a gentle smile and the fluttery feeling that he had made the right call.

With a gesture of her head, she turned gracefully and began towards the castle gardens, and he dutifully fell into step beside her.

Oh yeah. This was way better than having to stand through Public Council.

~~~

“Our kingdom boasts an idyllic, seasonable climate all year long, as you’ve no doubt noticed. Our summers are never too hot, and our winters are never too cold. That’s why the Mushroom Kingdom is the world’s foremost leader in power-up exports: this is among the few places where they can flourish in the wild year-round.”

Mario would never cease to marvel at Peach’s talent for making the mundane sound magical. She clasped her hands in front of her as she spoke, her brilliant bluebird eyes sparkling as she prattled off what should have been mildly interesting but otherwise unremarkable facts. Yet he was unable to tear his gaze from her face, and her every word stirred a powerful curiosity within him, her love for her kingdom radiating so strongly outward that he felt it just as deeply.

Tour Guide Mode, he had affectionately dubbed it. Peach had agreed that, should the whole “leader of a nation” position ever fall through, she would make a pretty good tour guide.

“That is to say,” she continued, looking back over to him, “freezes such as this only happen once every few years. For that reason, the first snow after a long stretch of more traditional weather is always declared a holiday.”

Mario chuckled dryly. “That would’ve been nice growing up. Me and Luigi, our mamma would have to drag us to school by the ear when it snowed. And even then, we’d spend all day staring out the window and daydreaming about being out there instead of cooped up inside.”

Peach reached out absently as they passed another snow-capped shrub, its frozen leaves rustling beneath her fingers. “Did it snow often in Brooklyn?”

“Pretty often, yeah. At least around this time of year.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I would love to see it for myself.” The fondness in Peach’s eyes grew more resplendent still, and Mario could feel himself blossoming beneath it, like a flower opening its blooms to the sunlight. A laugh bubbled in his chest.

“I promise you didn’t miss out on much, Princess. Brooklyn snow was always sludgy and gray. Kinda depressing, come to think of it.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” At the next shrubbery, he blindly mirrored her actions, sweeping a pile of loosely-packed snow to the ground. “That’s why I had to book it this morning! We saw all this fluffy clean snow and ended up chasing each other around in our pajamas. We were neck-deep in the most intense snowball fight the Mushroom Kingdom’s ever seen when I realized what time it was.”

Peach giggled at this information, a gentle teeheehee that released tiny clouds of vapor into the air before her. “What fun! I’ve always wanted to be part of a snowball fight.”

Mario was more than prepared to continue, to draw more giggles from her with descriptions of two grown men all rosy-cheeked and dusted in snowflakes with icicles freezing from their nostrils — but he stumbled at her words.

“...You’ve never been in a snowball fight?”

Peach was only two steps ahead of him when she registered his absence, and she turned to face him where he’d frozen, her delighted grin growing a touch dour.

“Growing up, I was… encouraged to pour my energy into more productive pursuits,” she confessed. As Mario caught up, she steepled her fingers together and cast her gaze to the dense gray sky above them. “Toadsworth thought it unbecoming to dirty my dresses in the name of any game without clear rules. Better something more clear-cut like tennis or golf, he’d say. Keep the senses sharp.”

Her smile warmed once more in nostalgia, yet as she directed it towards him, he saw the slightest gloom beneath that glow. “There weren’t any children my age to rope into a good snowball fight, anyway. I’m happy to live vicariously through others! Oh, but enough of this gloomy tangent. Won’t you tell me more about the snow in Brooklyn? Come, come.”

Though as she resumed their walk, Mario remained where he was. The melancholy in her gaze… no. It was foolish, he tried to reason, thinking that someone so refined as Peach might be genuinely saddened by such a silly topic. But the heaviness that lingered in his heart implored him to give the thought consideration — and, above all, to do something about it. 

Peach was his Princess, his charge in many respects, beautiful and composed and perfect… but she was still human. She was just as likely to long for life’s little pleasures as he was. And above all…

“You needn’t be so formal with me, you know,” she had told him only a few months earlier. “You are my friend.”

At the time, Mario had agreed, but was far too hesitant to accept her invitation. Now? For a few blissful and dangerous moments, he was finally able to internalize those words. 

He was her friend, and she was his in return, his closest and most cherished friend. He watched her back as she strode forward, his knees bending and his hands scooping and shaping on their own. Just as he was charged to protect her, he felt compelled to humor and address and banish whatever childish sadness lingered within her. And honestly, what sort of friend would he be if let her miss out on such a commonplace tradition?

The notion that launching a projectile directly at a ruling monarch’s head was probably a bad idea didn’t hit him until said projectile left his hand, and by then, it was too late.

Peach squeaked on impact, nearly entangling herself in her own cape as she whipped around to face her attacker. And what could Mario do? He certainly couldn’t look away, not when she stared at him with such unbridled shock, a halo of snow still clinging to her hair. Color rose into her cheeks, but he couldn’t interpret the whirlwind of emotions that flickered across her face, and something told him he didn’t want to.

Oh, he’d done it. He’d really messed up.

“I’m— I’m so sorry!” What was he supposed to do now? Bow? Bowing sounded right. “That was improper,” he uttered sheepishly, bracing a fist over his sternum and bending at the waist and squeezing his eyes shut as if he could undo what he’d done if only he couldn’t see it. “I should— that’s not… I-I should be acting like—”

“Mario.”

Mario looked up immediately at the utterance of his name — and was promptly blinded by a flash of white.

He sputtered and swiped at his face, shocked into newfound alertness by the icy cold against his skin, and the most wonderful sound rang in his ears all the while: laughter. Peach’s laughter, tinkling and light. Shaking his head to clear the snow that still clung to his bangs and eyebrows and mustache (his cap falling to the ground in the process), he found, when his vision cleared, that she was giggling into her left hand, brushing the right against her skirt.

She had— she actually—

“Yeah,” Mario found himself saying before his brain caught up with him, “yeah, I deserved that.”

The color that flooded Peach’s face settled into a dusty pink, and as she closed the gap between them, Mario felt his own skin undergo a similar transformation. Some mix of relief and giddiness and the usual Peach-induced fluster kept him stuck where he stood, unable to do anything but blush and smile nervously. 

“Don’t dish out anything you can’t handle being served in return.” Peach stooped elegantly, brushing the snow from Mario’s fallen cap before setting it back on his head. “Or, put simply: it’s on.”

“W-what—?”

Before the ringing in his ears cleared (and, indeed, before he even realized his ears were ringing), Peach fled from him, hiking her skirts and rushing ahead a good few meters before stooping once more to gather snow between her palms, and only then did Mario’s brain catch up with the rest of his body.

He threw himself to his knees in the knick of time, Peach’s second snowball zipping overhead. Taking advantage of his stupor, huh? Once more pulling his cap into place, a wicked grin spread across Mario’s face.

“Ah! Not so fast, Princess!” he called, fumbling hands forming a rushed retaliation. “You should know I’m a battle-hardened snowball fight warrior!”

The snowball he launched barely missed its target; Peach squeaked again, jumping clear of the attack, and then she was preparing her counterattack the moment her feet returned to the ground.

“Well, I’m far scarier than any warrior!” she called back. “I’m a politician!” 

Thud! The attack hit Mario square in the left shoulder, and he cried in mock-pain, launching himself to his feet to make a show of stumbling around before jumping back into the action. And that was how the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom and her guard spent the next twenty minutes: circling one another, flinging fistfuls of snow to and fro, and filling the chilled air with harmonious laughter.

~~~

The fireplace in Peach’s drawing room was… excessive, put one way, at least ten feet wide and six feet tall. Mario couldn’t help but keep a wary eye on it as he sipped his coffee. One gust of air and that fire would flash over and burn the whole castle down, he was certain of it.

“I suppose I’ll be getting an earful from Toadsworth tonight,” Peach sighed beside him. Mario chuckled regretfully; the old steward had immediately coaxed them inside upon crashing their game in progress, tutting in disapproval at their unkempt appearances and rambling on about the colds they would catch unless they settled in and warmed their bones immediately, “and I shouldn’t have to tell you that falling ill is the last thing we need for you, Princess.”

Even so, taking his leave after delivering their hot cocoa and black coffee some ten minutes later, Mario knew for a fact that he’d seen Toadsworth smile. An old and tired smile, with some odd nuance behind it that he couldn’t name, but a smile nonetheless.

“Just tell him I challenged your pride and it was all my fault,” he offered in the present moment. Then, with a wink, he joked: “He knows I’m a bad influence.”

“Yes, that’s just what I want: two of my favorite people butting heads for my sake.” Peach smiled over her cocoa in good humor, and Mario did his best to smile back just as evenly, but hearing her affections spoken so plainly (if indirectly) sent his heart into a stutter that made his hands feel suddenly weak. He tightened his grip on the mug in his grasp and swallowed thickly.

But if he intended to respond, the words died quickly on his tongue. The oversized fire illuminated Peach’s disheveled silhouette, frazzled strands sticking out all over her head, her bangs still slicked down with sweat, a downy blanket draped over her shoulders and obscuring her wrinkled and ever-so-slightly stained dress. But seated on the chase just inches away from him, she looked… happy. She hummed as she drank her cocoa, and the flames before them danced in her eyes, orange and red against cool blue, staggering in their brilliance yet serene all the same.

To see her so content wasn’t a surprise, not really. But something about the sight still left Mario short of breath.

Only when her gaze shifted towards him did he realize he was staring, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away. There was… there was love in her eyes, he realized not for the first time, a love she expressed towards him and him alone.

Though his heart could certainly hope, Mario knew deep down, or at least convinced himself he knew, that the love she felt for him wasn’t the same love he felt for her. But that made it no less sacred to him, and he knew he’d cherish her love in whatever form it took until the day he departed the earth.

Even so, an all too familiar ache seeped into his chest at the thought, more biting than any chill could ever be. Suddenly, the affection she graced him with felt unbearable. He looked back at the fireplace with an uneasy sigh.

“Mario?” He could hear her concern, soft but prodding, and Mario took the opportunity to finish his coffee and recompose himself. The bitterness of his drink dulled the unwelcome bitterness within him well enough for now.

“Honestly,” he said at last, staring down into his empty mug, “days like today… I wish they’d never end.”

Peach didn’t respond, not right away, and Mario worried at first that his melancholy smile might look a touch too melancholy. But finally she spoke, gentle and quiet and maybe just a bit sad: “I wish so too.”

[febuwhump]

Do you think you'll get your friends/the community to help you sort through all the prompts or do you want it to be a one man operation?

oh this is all me babeeyyy

if my housemates are around when I'm doing it I'll ask their opinion occasionally but sorting through the prompts is not as big an undertaking as you might think, or I might expect each year

[tomaturtles]

IT'S KAWOSHIN DAY!!! As well as the last day of Kawoshin Week :') It's been such a blast, gonna miss it when it's over

Kawoshin Week Day 7: Cuddling/domestic fluff! + Sleepover and Spinoffs (again)! Based on the Campus Apocalypse sleepover chapter ☺️

[yellowpamonha]

someday, when I find my way into writing again, I’ll write a k/s fic in which Spock and kirk, in the beginning of their careers, end up working in a south american ship and there spock finds someone with a italian name and surname, who speaks italian, eats italian food and has italian customs but who identifies themselves as Brazilian, and that will help him heal with his earth-Vulcan identity. and there will be an enemies to lovers between a brazillian and argentinian character as well <3