#don't tell me who i can be

[hivemindofevilbats]

I painted rocks today!!

[originalartblog]

Apparently much-needed reminder that reposting artists' art (by saving the images or screenshotting them and reuploading them yourself) on other platforms without the artists' expressed permission and without credit is theft and an insult to their passion and craft. You are profiting (in views, in attention, in feedback) from someone else's work and ideas, who do not get that feedback for sharing their creation.

If you are an art reposter, you are a thief and I have no respect for you.

[dollopheadsandclotpoles]

Even after all this time and awareness, it feels like asexuality is still not treated like a proper sexuality. Recently had a girl tell me that she was at a place where she ‘felt so asexual’ because all the other girls were so beautiful and guys were ignoring her because of it. She didn’t know I was asexual and I didn’t take offence (I know she didn't meant it in a malicious way) but it does feel uncomfortable that people are using ‘asexual’ in lieu of ‘unattractive' or 'lacking sexual appeal.' It's really giving 90's/early 2000's slang of using 'gay' to mean 'lame.' Even shows like Brooklyn 99 which took immense pride in being progressive with their comedy, had an episode where one of the characters says "Oh, and I'm sorry if we implied you're both asexual nerds who can only be friends with service animals."

I have mentioned this before also, when I talked about how I feel like people are more comfortable erasing the identities of canonical aro/ace characters in media but act like it's unacceptable with other sexualities... but it does feel like asexuality (and aromanticism tbh) are still not considered 'real' sexualities. In the case of shipping fictional characters, I understand there is nuance to that issue and so don't want to get into it, but it does kinda add to my point.

Why is it that people treat asexuality like it's not a sexuality? Why is it that when I come out to people I'm met with insistence that I'm wrong about my sexuality, that I'm 'self diagnosing' (it's not a medical condition), that I'm probably 'just inexperienced' or haven't 'met the right person' or have a hormone issue? Why can't people just accept that it's a sexuality like any other??

[inkskinned]

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

[ryllen]

zayne and his carrot nemesis x 🥕

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Welcome to the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger.

[venacoeurva]

obsessed with these little mouse coin purses again

[firestorm09890]

Penny stardewvalley makes me so sad because she's SO sensitive to, like, basically everything you tell her (telling her that you can't stand children while two children are nearby is a pretty lousy move but -1500 friendship?? being a jerk to other characters' faces typically loses you about 50 points, and if you choose the option labeled "creepy" and ask Leah for a kiss in her 2 heart event she physically hits you and kicks you out of her house but that's only -100 friendship…) and so if you want to befriend her it's a whole lot of lying and tiptoeing around her feelings (2 hearts: George was right but saying that makes her feel bad. 6 hearts: her food sucks but even if you try to be polite about it she feels like a failure; only a bald-faced lie pleases her. 8 hearts: saying you don't want to be tied down with a family loses you a little bit of friendship and she's only happy if you say you want kids) and I can't help but think she's a product of her environment. She lives in a trailer with only her mother, who gets drunk every night and has something of a temper. Penny's like a skittish rescue animal who won’t even come out from hiding under something unless you leave her lots of treats

[uncanny-tranny]

Hey, if you have speech impediments, you are so amazing.

If you stutter or have a lisp or misspeak easily or you have a flat affect or a limited verbal vocabulary or if your voice is AAC or if you just have a difference in your vocality, you are so incredibly important and amazing.

Just know that your voice is yours. Nobody will ever be able to truly take it away. Your voice is part of you, and you deserve to make it as true to you as you deem fit. I hope you have the space to grow with your voice and whatever about it makes it unique.

[ineed-to-sleep]

So I've had this wip sitting in my folders for months now and decided to ressurect it to satiate the urge to draw these two again

[coquelicoq]

what i like especially about the pronouns in the goblin emperor is that this language doesn't just have the T-V distinction (aka informal vs. formal second-person pronouns, in this case 'thou' vs. 'you'), it also has informal and formal first-person pronouns. having BOTH of these distinctions in the same language lets you fine-tune your tone by mixing and matching. with only one axis of formality, when you use informal pronouns, are you being familiar in an intimate way, or in an insolent or dismissive way? when you use formal pronouns, are you being polite or standoffish? you can't tell just from the pronouns; there's ambiguity. but a language where you can use a formal first-person pronoun in the same sentence as an informal second-person pronoun allows you to distance yourself (via the formal first) while also being familiar (via the informal second), thereby achieving the conversational tenor known to linguists as Fuck Thee Specifically.

[overtake]

“a sexual awakening so intense it registered on the richter scale” is the single best and most accurate description I have ever heard.

pov: you're 16 years old and doing the final test for your super license ahead of joining f1 as the youngest ever driver. you expect the doubt and hate, and you know you can prove on track why you deserve to be there once you actually get in a car, but until then, you just have to be the subject of everyone's headlines and criticism for a factor you can't control.

then this guy comes along.

race winner who got himself to a top team and is beating his world champion teammate, a cool older handsome charismatic guy with a giant smile and big brown eyes, beloved and kind while still being fiercely talented, competitive, and hungry? the guy who you met in 2011 and who gave you the time of day before you were old enough to sniff at the f1 grid. he's not even going to be your actual teammate (yet), but he still takes the time to tell you he's looking forward to seeing you on the grid when so much of what you've heard is nonstop criticism.

he tells you good luck for your super license with a big grin meant just for you

and this is how it makes you feel.

this is live footage of daniel ricciardo becoming a permanent fixture in max's spank bank. it's one of those foundational crushes you have at a young age that sticks with you for life and unconsciously affects "your type" forever and never truly goes away.

also, i just think everyone should hear the way max very softly says "he's a really nice guy, yeah" with so much affection packed into every word.

how are you not to psychosexually imprint on him? one look at that video and max was ready to risk it all. he's been metaphorically tucking his hair, kicking his feet, and giggling since day one. he found a guy who he could race hard, who would challenge him on track, but who would still make the miserable pr days better for them, who was always laughing at max's jokes every time he did his little glance over to ensure it landed. max is so fiercely loyal to his people, and daniel has clearly earned that trust.

tldr: max verstappen is number one dirlie and if he were on f1blr, he would be writing long posts with onboards, data, and that ☝️🤓 attitude of his explaining in detail why everyone is wrong about daniel, and i hope it haunts all the max fans who get their rocks off to calling daniel a washed asshole loser that max's porn folder is daniel late braking compilations.

[originalartblog]

(domestic skk?? here???)

Sometimes it's hard to be vulnerable but they're working on it.

[strangersatellites]

It had all started in Photography 101. 

All he had needed was one more elective added to his schedule for the fall semester to be considered a full-time student. It was Robin who had suggested photography.

Steve had never had that great of a memory to begin with, the numerous blows to the head from juvenile high school fights certainly doing him no favors. Sometimes the amount of time it took to jog Steve’s memory surpassed the time it would’ve taken to simply tell him the story as if he hadn’t been there himself. 

He was always able to grasp the memory eventually, but sometimes they were slippery in his mind. 

He and Robin had found that his memory was ten times better if he had something to look at. Sometimes that was a souvenir from a trip, sometimes it was a takeout menu with his order circled in red pen, sometimes it was a physical scar on his skin from some silly injury. But most of the time it was pictures. 

Steve took to taking photos of everything. His friends, his food, the landscape, a book with a pretty cover, anything he wanted to be able to remember.

The walls of his room grew to be covered with polaroids and prints, some staged, most not. Many blurry and out of focus, but in the moment just the same. 

So when Robin suggested Photography 101, Steve saw an opportunity to take something he did for his own benefit and turn it into something he really enjoyed, something he was good at. 

The semester was a breeze and Steve flourished under the attention of his professor. He was constantly drowning in compliments about the movement in his photos and his eye for composition. 

(Robin would tell him on several occasions that she had never seen him enjoy something this much.)

By the time the semester was coming to a close, he was left with one final project. The professor had been intentionally very vague in her description of it throughout the semester, so Steve was a little on edge. 

Sitting in the front row of the small classroom, he twirled the strap of his camera around his fingers while he daydreamed. The room slowly filled and the professor settled in behind her desk. 

About five minutes after class was supposed to have begun Steve noticed they were all still sitting in silence. Glancing at the professor he saw her brows furrow and a frustrated lilt to her lips as she looked at her watch.

What are we waiting for? 

She stood and dusted off her pants before clapping her hands together.

“Well,” she began, “I guess we can go ahead and get start–”

The door at the back of the room swung open and knocked against the wall with a resounding slam.

“Shit! Fuck! So sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

Steve is so caught off guard by the man who just burst into the room that he barely even registers the words he’s saying. 

He’is tall and all lanky muscle, dark curls and jewelry, tattoos and the smell of smoke, chains and leather and everything Steve’s not. Everything nobody in this class is.

He’s even more caught off guard when his professor laughs and pulls the man into a tight hug. There are only five other students in this class, surely he’s not the only person confused.

He keeps an arm around her shoulders as she introduces him to the group.

“Guys, this is Eddie. He’s a family friend and he’s going to be your subject for your final project.”

Steve’s own eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand how this was the project she has been keeping under wraps. They’ve had plenty of portrait sessions this semester, with models and subjects of their choice alike.

The guy, Eddie, claps a hand to his chest in a dramatic show of faux humility. 

“Thank you for having me, Joyce. It's such an honor to be here.”

She smacks at his arm and carries on.

“So, Eddie is your subject and you have no parameters. The only requirement is that he is the inspiration for your shoot. This can look like a standard portrait session, this can be contemporary urban street photography, whatever you like. Eddie does not even have to be in the photo! He just has to be the inspiration for it.”

Steve's brain is already running a mile a minute, conceptualizing shots faster than he can keep up. 

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But one idea sticks out from the rest. As Steve lifts his eyes to Eddie once more and meets his own twinkling with mirth and smirking back at him he makes his decision.

He’s going to take his mugshot.

*****

“I want to take your mugshot.”

They’re at the campus coffee shop. Joyce had scheduled a few hours for Eddie to meet with the other students during their class time so they could talk through their projects.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “What, man?”

Steve twirls his straw around his drink and tries not to bristle at the reaction.

“Look,” he starts, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I don’t really know where the idea originated but once I had it, it stuck. I just saw this vision of the shot in my head and it was sick, dude.”

Eddie leans back in the booth, one of his boots knocking into Steve’s foot under the table. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. 

“Thought this shoot was supposed to be inspired by moi,” he says, gesturing a hand towards himself. “You saying I look like I should be in jail?”

Steve groans and puts his head in his hands. “No. I already told you I don't know where i got the idea–”

But that’s a lie isn’t it. He knows exactly where he got the idea. It was somewhere between the chains dangling from Eddie’s jeans and the handcuff belt he was wearing the day they met.

He put his hands together on the table between them. “Okay. No, I’m not saying you look like a criminal, Eddie. I’m saying I think you want to look like one.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment before his face breaks into a slow smirk. He huffs a quiet laugh and leans closer. “Guilty as charged, Stevie. Besides, I was arrested once actually.”

Steve gawks while Eddie laughs. He is unfairly attractive when his dimples pop and Steve is going to have such a hard time holding it together behind the camera. 

*****

Steve takes his shoots very seriously. Every detail has to be perfect, even the ones not relating to the subject of the photo.

So it is wildly convenient that his professor happens to be married to the chief of police back in Hawkins. 

One quick phone call from Joyce and Steve and Eddie were granted access to the booking room at the police station. You know, for the sake of realism. 

Steve’s setting up his tripod while Eddie takes a chalk marker to the placard and writes up his own booking ID, a long series of random numbers with E.M at the end. 

Steve would be lying if he said Eddie’s choice of clothing wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. 

He’s wearing a ratty, old band t-shirt for some group Steve’s never heard of. There’s his usual black leather jacket and the silver chain around his neck. His ripped black jeans and fingers covered in rings and black nail polish. 

It's perfect for the shoot. But Steve’s sanity is struggling.

He gets the camera and the lighting set up just as Eddie steps into place in front of the height measurement wall. 

Steve puts his hands on his hips and gives instructions.

“Okay, so I know you’ve done this before–”

“Hey! It was one time!”

“So you know how this goes. We’ll do one forward and then one to each side.”

Eddie shakes out his hair and rolls his shoulders back. He holds the placard up in front of him and levels the camera with a dead-eyed stare.

He looks good. 

Steve is less than shocked that he looks even better on camera.

He lines up his shot. Click.

Eddie turns to his left. Steve gets a little distracted by the line of his jaw.

Click.

He turns to the right and of course only now does Steve notice his ear piercings. 

Steve takes a deep breath and focuses.

Click.

Before he can even look through his shots Eddie is dropping the placard on the desk.

He’s halfway out the door before he grabs the frame and leans back in. “One second pretty boy, I have an idea.”

He’s back before Steve snaps out of his stupor at the nickname. This time, he has a pair of handcuffs swinging from his index finger.

Steve snatches them out of his hand. “Where did you get these?”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “I know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes. 

He’s already picking up the placard and setting up some detail shots when Eddie grabs his wrist and stops him. He freezes for more than one reason.

“Hey, uh. Not to step on your toes or anything, but I actually have another idea.”

Steve is about to start on his spiel about ‘not messing up his flow’ when Eddie rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist. Gentle and reassuring. 

“Do you trust me?”

Honestly Steve has no reason to trust him, he’s basically a stranger.

A pretty one. His brain supplies.

But he does. Trusts him enough to let him take Steve’s creative liberties and throw them out the window apparently.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is blinding. He turns Steve’s hand over and drops the handcuff key into it.

“Don’t lose this big boy,” he says as he snaps the cuffs around each of his own wrists.

Steve laughs, loud and shocked. He waggles his eyebrows at Eddie. 

“Well, now didn’t this take a turn.”

Eddie rolls his eyes this time and lifts his hands as much as he can.

“Don’t try to sexualize my creative prowess, Steve. I am a professional.”

He nearly trips on his way back to his place in front of the wall and Steve has to hide his laugh into a cough.

Steve’s back behind the camera, hands back on his hips when he asks, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Eddie smiles and says, “You just shoot, Harrington. I’ll do the rest.”

He leans down to finalize his camera settings and line up his shot. When he finally looks through the viewfinder his jaw drops. Because while Eddie was clearly joking about being a professional, if Steve didn’t know any better, this shot would have him believing it.

Eddie’s got both of his pinky fingers tucked in the corners of his smile, tongue bitten between his teeth. His thumbs are raised along with his middle fingers, while he’s got his nose scrunched and one eye squeezed shut. The cuffs hang right under his chin and accentuate his silver jewelry in a way Steve never would have anticipated.

Click.

Click. 

Click.

The next is a close-up of the booking placard between his teeth.

His hands twisting to unlock his own cuffs.

He’s a natural, and Steve’s camera roll can attest to the fact.

It wouldn’t be until Steve was reviewing and editing the shots that he caught on. The booking ID on the placard looked long because it was. It was Eddie’s number.

*****

Steve got an A. 

He got an A, an endless stream of compliments from Joyce and a dorky hot boyfriend. 

The rest of the class went the route Steve expected them to.

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But Steve’s mugshot series stood leagues above the rest.

Later in their lives, when one of their friends would see the photo in Steve’s wallet they would ask when Eddie got arrested and why.

It quickly became a game between the two.

He’s been arrested in high school for selling drugs (True.)

When he was twenty for public indecency.

At twenty-two for arson.

Thirty for contract killing. This one was followed up with the claim that he was in witsec and was now going to have to change his identity and flee the country.

But the real when and why Eddie got arrested is because when he was twenty-one Joyce told him there was a nice boy in her class that she thought he should meet.

[jojo-schmo]

"We told our friends they were beautiful and recorded their reactions!"

Click the "read more" for the rest of the Waddle Dees' video :)

I misremembered the Waddle Dee camera crew's broadcast as Channel DDD when it's actually Channel PPP. Sorry... blame the anime for planting the wrong name in my head haha :'D

[chaos0pikachu]

where's my crackfic where sanji and zoro are constantly bickering and fighting over luffy until nami finally snaps and is like "you can both fuck him, he's rubber"