#ok this is complicated to explain bear with me

[sunnykeysmash]

ik that's dee but dennis is gonna be looking at mac's date as well so, do you see the vision here

[lotus-pear]

YAAAAAYYYY ITS FINALLY HERE!!! ty guys sm again for 5k i rly appreciate it <3

rules and guidelines under the cut!

rules and due date (i've never done this before so bear w me ok!!):

-due date will be march 1st! i will accept entries a few days late dw i'm nor ur professor or smth BUT I WOULD RLY PREFER IF U GET IT DONE BY THEN (just dm me if u need more time)

-pls tag ur finished piece under #lotuspear5kdtiys and dont forget to mention my user @lotus-pear! if i neglect to reblog ur piece then pls lmk even though that probably won't happen bc i'll be checking that tag every day for new entries👹

-pls don't trace the art.. i'll be really sad if u do that :(((( if u need help at all w the posing or hands then shoot me an ask or weed ur way into my dms bc ik this is kind of a complicated piece

-anyone can participate!! u don't have to be following me or anything and it's fine if we've never interacted before

-colors and expression are completely flexible and i'd even encourage playing around w it since the final product isn't meant to mimic my style. if u can then pls try to keep the pose relatively similar although i don't mind if it's changed a little bit. whatever is most comfortable to u as the artist.

-if u guys want to see the piece without any shading or rendering then pls dm me, ik it might be easier for some ppl to just see the bare sketch or the lineart w base colors

prizes🤩 (ik this is what u guys are rly after /j):

-alr so ik everybody's all like "well what's in this for me🤨" oh my god if u would just let me explain 😐 i'll be choosing three winners and two honorable mentions amongst all the contestants

-the top three winners get a follow (yea ok kinda sucky but wtv) AND they get to commission a fully rendered piece from me of a single character of their choice for free >:) (i'll discuss the details w the winners in two months)

-the two runner ups will also get a follow from me AND they get to commission a sketch of a single character from me (again, i'll discuss what this entails in further detail when the honorable mentions are selected in two months)

————

ermmm yea i think thats it for now i'll come back and edit the post if i feel the need to add anything.. HAVE FUN GUYS I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT U GUYS DO🫶🏼🫶🏼

[artyandink]

that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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[bailey-dreamfoot]

Biblically Accurate Barnacles

Ok so I do actually probably have to explain this (this will sound a little conspiracy -ish but please bear with me)

So like at first, I just wanted to draw a realistic polar bear Barnacles, but then I thought, hey if I'm drawing him to be biologically realistic as far as his design goes, why not make him biologically accurate in terms of his actual character?

I've talked ab it a bit before, but the jist is polar bears are hyper carnivores, with vegetation like berries making up only a very small percentage of their diet when sea ice is less expansive. And so, the fact that the Captain (and all the other crew members who are mostly carnivores/ omnivores) eats literally no meat of any kind in the show, and consume only kelp based food, they have all got to be dead may times over. Or at the very least very malnourished.

But then I thought of a headcannon I had, where like, Barnacles would visit his sister Bianca and her kids every now and then (bc they have the most wholesome sibling bond I swear-) and they'd just have like family get togethers and family dinner time. And the idea was, since Bianca isn't an animal rescuer or anything, she would still like eat meat and stuff. So when ever the Captain came over, she would make like seal burgers for herself and Orson and Ursa- and make a special veggie burger specifically for her brother.

B u t T h e n - OHHOHOH THEN, I had a wee thought.

So like Octonauts, animal universe, weirdly advanced technology, yada yada we've been through that before. They can build super complicated vehicles, Tweaks inventions range from already existing to borderline sci-fi. So hear me out here-

What if the Technology in the world of Octonauts is advanced enough, that they are able to produce lab grown meat, like scientists are trying to do right now? So then say maybe a group of mostily carnivore sea-explorers and animal rescuers (the Octonauts) have themselves a moral dilemma. Can't eat fish bc they're supposed to be saving them (+ they can talk so that's kinda fucked), but also can't just give up meat bc malnutritions a bitch. So say maybe they either create or just buy this kind of lab grown meat- right? And what if they put it *in* the kelp cakes? It would explain why we see them eating literally nothing else.

Now you may be saying, Bailey thats rediculous, the kelp cakes are called kelp cakes BECAUSE they are made of kelp, of course theres's no meat in them. And I'd say thats a perfectly reasonable assumption, yk? IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE FACT THAT THERES A CONONICAL BURGER KELP CAKE.

TBH, it's just a wee bit out of place that the burger one is the only traditionally meat based dish here. Everything else is either a fruit or veggie based food. And I'm not even going to get into how the existance of milk and cheese would imply the existance of a dairy industry in this world.

But- not if you use that lab grown- meat idea. Whose to say something like that wouldn't or couldn't expand to other animal based foods, like milk, cream, or cheese?

So yeah thanks for coming to my tedtalk, thats why I draw Barnacles noming on a burg. It's literally 3 am, I am tired.

[harry-on-broadway]

Sweet

Word Count: 3.4K

***

A red velvet cupcake. That’s how it started.

You were turning five, the first of February, and your teacher had brought cupcakes for you, and the kid in your class who shared your birthday, to have at lunch. Except Jeremy Jones thought it would be funny to push you in the lunchroom, jostling the cupcake out of your hands and onto the ground.

The reaction wasn’t instantaneous, but once the shock of seeing the crisp, white icing covered in dirt wore off, the tears came easily and what had been the best day of your short life had suddenly become the worst thing a five-year-old could imagine.

A small voice interrupted your tears before the teacher on lunch duty could tend to you. “Have some of mine.” Harry, the boy in your class who shared your birthday, held his hand out towards you. His own red velvet dessert unscathed. “Will you sit with me?”

You nodded, tears gradually ceasing as you followed Harry to an empty table, where he pulled the cupcake into two roughly even halves. “Here,” he said, offering you one piece, the noticeably larger one.

“Thank you,” you managed to squeak out.

“It’s OK,” he said, chewing, small crumbs escaping the corner of his mouth. “My mum is making me a cake tonight. I think it’s going to be chocolate. Are you getting a cake?”

“I think so,” you said thoughtfully. “My dad said we’re having a big cake at my party this weekend, but we’ll do a small cake tonight.”

“I think I’m going to your party!” Harry was suddenly even more excited. “It’s roller skating, right?”

You nodded. You’d been begging your parents to let you invite your entire class to a party at the local roller rink for most of the school year and had been over the moon when they finally acquiesced. “It is! And we’re going to have someone do balloon animals too!”

“No way!”

You were pleased that one of your classmates was as happy as you were. “Are you having a party?”

“I am! Mine is on Friday night. We’re going to play games after school and then eat pizza. Are you coming?”

Your own mother hadn’t said anything about a party but you nodded, hoping she’d have the answer when she met you in the pick up line after school.

“Yay!” Harry dove back into his cupcake, fingers sticky with the same frosting that dotted his face.

You all sat next to each other even after the cupcake was gone, Harry prattling on about something you only partially understood, but you appreciated the company which was a great distraction from your own destroyed birthday treat.

That Friday, your dad came home from work early to take you to Harry’s party, where you gave your new friend a Hot Wheel car and an action figure you’d selected at the store after much prodding from your parents. On Saturday, he was at your party, explaining all of the features of the new Barbie he’d picked out for you.

***

In the years that followed, Harry was always the one constant of your school days.

Regardless of whether or not you were in the same class, or boycotting Jessica because she was mean to Hailey, or ignoring Hailey because she was mad at Jessica, Harry was always there. A friendly face at lunch when you needed it, a pal on the playground when no one else wanted to draw with the chalk, and each year, even if you weren’t in the same class, he’d find you on February 1st, and you’d share some sort of sweet treat. A cupcake. A cookie. One year, a pack of gummy bears because both of you had been caught up in the excitement of the assembly the school had scheduled that day.

But things grew more complicated as you grew older.

Thirteen was a tough year. Boy-girl parties were all the rage (as were the hormones) and when you showed up to Harry’s on a Friday, you’d felt shy and nervous and all out of sorts, even though you had no reason to. You couldn’t figure out why until you accidentally stumbled across Harry kissing some girl from the grade above you as a group of rowdy boys cheered them on. You’d left, holding back tears as you called your mother to come and get you right away. The next night was your own girls only sleepover, and when Kara Chapman had asked everyone to name their crush, you said Josh, even though it was the biggest lie you’d ever told.

Fourteen was even tougher. You’d waited in the halls and the schoolyard, trying to catch Harry in a free moment that never materialized. The cookies you’d bought at a bakery that morning, turned to crumbs in the bottom of your bag as you walked home. Fifteen brought rumors of some wild and crazy party that you weren’t invited to, and by sixteen he was gone.

You didn’t think much about him anymore until one night your dad called you into the TV room. He was watching a singing competition show and pointing to the teenage boy on the screen. “Didn’t I take you to his birthday party one year?” he asked. All you could do was nod.

Suddenly, Harry was everywhere. He was no longer your birthday buddy, your cupcake savior, and childhood crush, but the world’s heartthrob. When you walked into the supermarket, his face followed you through the aisles, dotting candy wrappers and magazine covers, toothbrushes and chapstick, every item reminding you of the memories you still held close.

***

It had been Jonathan’s idea to get everyone back together.

After graduation, everyone dispersed. Some had moved to London, others had stayed in town, but for one night everything would be the same as it had been. The back of the pub had been sectioned off, but the velvet rope was more of a suggestion than a dividing line as people flowed in and out freely.

You were standing with Jessica, the one person you regularly kept in touch with, always making time to see her when you were home. You were nursing a beer she had just replenished and talking shit about Jeremy, who was just as much trouble as he had been at age five.

You felt the tap on your shoulder before you heard the voice, low and soft and close to your ear.

“Have any cupcakes lately?”

When you turned around, Harry was standing there, grinning widely with his arms open for a hug.

“Hi,” you said, words muffled by his shoulder. “How have you been?” you asked as he asked you the same question.

“Well,” he said, chuckling. “And you? Are you still around here?”

“No, I moved to London for school and just kind of hung around.”

“No way. I’m in London now too!” The enthusiasm was just the same as it had been when he was five.

“We should meet up sometime,” you said, the words empty knowing that he probably had more important things to do.

“Yeah, I think I owe you a sweet. Or seven,” he added with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck.

For a brief second you were transported back to 2007, to the moment you first knew you were in love with him. “For sure. If you have some free time, let me know.”

“I’m about to have a lot of that,” he said. “We’re, uh, taking a break,” he explained when you looked confused. “The band,” he prompted.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. All things have to end, right? It’s kind of like graduating uni if you think about it.”

You nodded. “Still, it must be bittersweet. Not getting to see people you care about every day.” You tried to keep your voice neutral, so as not to betray all of the feelings that statement held for you.

“It is,” Harry finally said. He cleared his throat. “So, I don’t think I ever actually got your number. Back then.” He held out his phone.

“Oh, right.” You gave him your own device and typed your number into his phone, adding your name and a cupcake emoji to the contact. He smiled when he saw what you had done.

“So, where in London are you?” he asked.

You were about to answer, when two of his buddies came running over, nearly tackling him as he fell into you, beer sloshing over the rim of your glass. Harry mouthed an apology, but his friends steered him away before you could tell him it was OK.

“What was that about?” Jessica asked when she saw you were free again.

“Oh, just catching up with Harry.” You tried to act casual.

“I didn’t realize you all were close.”

There was no judgment in her words, but you felt defensive. “I mean we weren’t best friends or anything but we had the same birthday. He shared his cupcake with me when we were little and it was kind of a tradition for a little while.” You picked at your nail polish. “I’m kind of surprised he remembered me,” you added as an afterthought.

“Well, he couldn’t take his eyes off you,” she whispered.

“Stop it!” You brushed her words off, but replayed the conversation in your mind. Had it been that intense?

“I’m serious! He was laser focused on you. An elephant could have walked through the room and he wouldn’t have noticed. Did you get his number?”

You nodded shyly as Jessica applauded you. You could tell she wanted to ask more questions, but she thankfully opted for discretion as people surged around you, rounding up teams for a game of darts.

When you left, you scanned the crowd for Harry hoping to steal another moment with him but he had disappeared. You called an Uber to head back to your parents’ house, scrolling through your phone during the brief drive. When you couldn’t resist any longer, you opened your contacts, skimming through the listings looking for Harry’s name, praying your exchange with him hadn't been a cruel practical joke.

It only took a couple of minutes until you found it.

He’d saved his number as Harry.

With a cupcake emoji beside it.

***

Following the reunion, you and Harry had grabbed dinner and drinks a few times and on your shared 23rd birthday, you all met up at a bakery in London that was purported to have the best red velvet cupcakes in the city. When you all reached the counter Harry asked for two from the case, along with two coffees.

“I figured we could each handle our own now,” he explained.

You all sat nestled in the corner, forks clinking against porcelain. Over the past several months, you and Harry had fallen into a comfortable routine, friendship reinvigorated by your long-lasting crush and his desire to be with someone who knew him before everything changed. You weren’t always entirely sure when he’d be in town, but you knew you were in for a good time whenever he was.

He was telling a story about something that had happened when he was in Jamaica, but you were only half listening, observing the way his tongue stuck out in the slightest way each time he lifted the fork to his lips and the way his entire face crinkled when he laughed at his own joke. He was the same boy you’d fallen in love with all those years ago, just an even better version. And you were still the same girl, too shy to say anything.

He walked you home from the bakery. You all stood so close that your hands kept brushing, eliciting soft giggles and apologies from the both of you. You were certain that if he looked close enough, he’d see just how much you were blushing.

“Do you have any other plans tonight?” he asked. His voice was laced with something, but you couldn’t tell what. You were too busy trying to play it cool.

“Not really. The girls were all busy tonight so we’ll probably celebrate over the weekend. Birthdays aren’t as big of a deal when you get older.”

“It’s in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it?” He kicked a pebble with his shoe. “But no plans with a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

“No. There hasn’t been a boyfriend for awhile. How about you?”

“Same. No one for a while.”

You’d reached your building by this point. “This is me,” you said, rocking back on your heels, unsure of what would happen next. “It was lovely to catch up with you. Don’t be a stranger,” you added, surprising yourself.

“I’ll try not to now that I know you’re around. It would be rude to only see you on our birthday.” Like the gentleman he was, he gave you a parting hug and waited until you were safely inside the lobby of your building before moving on.

You didn’t tell your friends about your birthday rendezvous with Harry, but you suspected Jessica had her own ideas about what happened when she pulled you aside later that night, fishing for any details you had to share.

“It was fun,” you said. “I didn’t realize how much I missed him.”

***

In the years after, Harry floated in and out of your life.

You’d occasionally receive a text or email from him at an odd hour of night, sent in the small pocket of free time he had in between shows all over the world. But when he was in town, he made a point to reach out, meeting you for coffee and pastries, and once even a sad, prepackaged salad during your brief lunch hour.

True to his word, Harry made sure you all had plenty of time outside of that special day, sporadic as it might be, but you knew that every February 1, he’d be waiting for you, some sort of sweet treat at the ready.

There were hiccups here and there, when he was caught up in circumstances outside of his control that prevented you all from seeing each other. But he always found a way to make it up to you with a text, phone call, or special delivery. As time passed, you found yourself growing more attached to Harry. He wasn’t a presence in your life the way Jessica and your other friends were, but you felt your friendship with him was much stronger. He remembered, even the slightest detail, and had some sort of sixth sense to tell when you were going through a rough patch and needed someone to check in. In return, you paid him a visit whenever you could, popping into shows here and there when he was back on your side of the globe.

Harry was most definitely a friend, but the thought of him becoming something more lingered in the back of your mind. He was lovely and wonderful and would make an excellent partner, but you tried to talk yourself out of it – he was never here, he probably got into all sorts of trouble when you weren’t watching – so as not to get your hopes up. But the idea of what if, what if he was yours, only grew stronger each time you saw him.

***

You next saw him at what had become Johnny’s annual gathering.

You’d been doing a good job of banishing those pesky thoughts of Harry over the summer and fall, quieting them with a number of dates you’d met on the apps and through friends. But when you saw Harry standing there, shirt wrinkled and fringe pulled back from his face, every thought you’d fought off came rushing back when you saw Harry standing there, ready to help you out of your coat and greet you with a big hug.

“I’m surprised you managed to find time for us,” you teased as his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll always make time for you,” he murmured.

You ignored the subtext you were sure you were imagining, grabbing a drink from the bar. “Any thoughts on what we’re doing for our birthday this year?”

“About that…” He looked nervous. Shifty. And you were preparing for the worst. “So I haven’t actually made it official yet,” he began. “But I’ve got a show that night.”

“Oh?” You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice as the feelings you felt on your thirteenth birthday  came rushing back. “Maybe we can shoot for doing something later in the month.”

“Or how would you feel about coming to the show? It’s in Palm Springs, but I was thinking maybe you have the time?”

Traveling to spend a birthday with him was something you’d only thought of in your dreams, yet here was Harry, ready to make your dreams come true. “Um, yeah I should be able to get the time off. If you’re sure it won’t be too much. You know, with me being in the way.”

“You wouldn’t be in the way, you’d be my guest.”

“Well then, how can I say no to that?”

“Brilliant.” Harry’s grin was the tiniest bit brighter after that, and you didn’t miss how he followed you around for the rest of the night, always seeming to migrate to whatever group of people you found yourself in.

And when the night was over, he was there to help you with your coat and walk you to your car, hugging you tight before you climbed behind the wheel.

“See you real soon,” he whispered against your temple. “It’ll be our best birthday yet.”

***

When you looked back on all of your favorite birthdays, they all had something in common: you woke up with Harry beside you.

Your 29th was just the start of that trend, as when you rolled over on February 1, pulling the sheet tighter over your shoulder to fend off the slight chill to the air, you found Harry grinning at you, freshly cut hair flopping wildly on the pillow behind him.

“Morning,” he said groggily, the strain of last night’s concert – and post-show activities – evident in his voice.

You’d had no intention of falling into bed with him, but a moment of honesty and vulnerability backstage ahead of his first Palm Springs show had revealed what you’d hoped for all along. Harry had been pining for you all those years, just as you were after him. And when he’d invited you back to his hotel room, you couldn’t say no, falling into a pile of limbs on top of the plush duvet. Now, this morning, you were tired, sore, and another year older, and also much more content than you’d ever been.

“Morning,” you whispered back. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday to you as well.” He grinned mischievously. “I feel like we should celebrate again or something.”

“I–” You were cut off by a knock at the door. You glanced at Harry. “What’s that?”

He jumped from the bed, pulling on shorts and a hoodie he found scattered on the floor as he made his way to the door. When he opened it, your view was blocked and you couldn’t make out the words that were exchanged in hushed tones behind it, but when Harry returned to the bed, he was holding a plate with two red velvet cupcakes.

“I had to honor tradition,” he said softly.

You were overcome at the small gesture and were left searching for words. “Thank you,” was all you could manage in a small voice.

Harry wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close to him. “Of course. Anything for you.” He peeled the corner of the wrapper off before handing one of the treats to you. “Did you ever think this would happen?” he asked.

“What? Spending my 29th birthday eating a cupcake naked in bed, post-coital?”

“No.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Us. Being together.”

You shrugged. “I always kind of hoped.”

His eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Really? With me?”

You nodded. “You were always really nice. And I liked that.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” You furrowed your brow.

“I don’t know. That’s kind of the placeholder you use when you can’t think of anything else to say about someone,” he said, licking a bit of frosting off of his thumb. “‘Harry’s nice.’”

“Well you are! You gave me your cupcake when we were five. What else am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno.” He was testing you now, you could tell from the impish gleam in this eye. “You have that fancy university degree. I’m sure you could think of something.”

“OK…” you trailed off in thought, absentmindedly. “Sweet. You were always really sweet.”

“Sweet…” Harry mulled the word. “I can work with that.” He grinned. “And I think after last night, you’re pretty sweet too.”

***

A/N: This felt very different from what I normally write, but why not get a little experimental to celebrate our favorite rock star's birthday. Thank you so much for reading. Would love to hear what everyone thinks!

[cishetlessfashion]

Ok so uh this is kind of embarrassing for me but I'm questioning being objectum... I've always been posic (Perception of Object Sentience, Individuality, and Consciousness) bc I become very attached to objects, especially plushies and toys, consider them friends and family, etc I had strong crushes and toys when I was a kid/tween, that faded as I became a teenager and I didn't experience it again until I was an adult, so I just figured it was a phase and didn't think much of it again... Until I got that Gloomy Bear plush backpack I showed on here, Salmon, I uhhhhhh think I might have a crush on him lmao, maybe even be sexually attracted to him, but I have kind of a mental blockage from trauma/low sex drive/probably grey asexual so that's more complicated for me to figure out I have a boyfriend of 5 years and Idk how I would bring this up or explain it to him, we're polyam, and Salmon is just a plushie, so I could just not disclose this to him at all, but I love him and would like to involve him in my personal life, so if Salmon ended up becoming my partner I'd ideally like to let him know about that... Honestly idk why this is so embarrassing for me to discuss with friends and loved ones, I already told them I'm into monsters, generally identify as non human, have xenogenders, and a bunch of other weird shit going on, but idk having to admit I'm questioning my sexuality over a backpack just seems so ridiculous rvuneisfjudifisjjsjfoaz Idk I guess for now I'll just enjoy Salmon's company and try not to worry about it

[agoddamn]

It's tempting to stick Mashita into the traditional dom/aggressive/asshole yaoi role opposite Yashiki's soft-heartedness (it's an explicit argument they had in the game, after all) but I offer the counterpoint that Mashita is a walking disaster. Any suggestion of him having his shit together is merely an illusion because he's standing next to a man currently getting manipulated and gaslit by My-Size Murder Barbie.

The decisions this dude makes...!

The investigating a case after being fired part, that's not crazy. That's standard fictional character behavior. It is a bit interesting, though, because Mashita has a cold case he's willing to put his life and sanity on the line for and it's not the Hanahiko case. It's the Shimi-O case. Just, narratively-- it's interesting that he goes from "I'm willing to throw my life away for this case" to "I'm willing to throw my life away for this case but for real this time." It suggests he's already living recklessly by the time he gets cursed.

And one more thing--he isn't running the private eye business when you meet him. He's instead listed as unemployed. He gets the detective business running after getting his curse cleared up. He's not digging into the Hanahiko case for anything more than his own satisfaction.

The real interesting things start when he sticks around for chapter 2. He has no idea he's going to be lead to the Honey Bee case when he makes the decision to stay. He says something suggesting that he believed following the paranormal with Yashiki would lead him there, but that feels very much like an excuse to me since he has no reason to believe that.

And in particular, why did Mary have him stay? With the knowledge that her "fates entwined" bullshit was indeed bullshit, why would she want Mashita to stay? Pure practicality, needing someone to be able to leave the house and drip-feed information to Yashiki? I just don't think so. I think she made his staying useful to her, but I genuinely think Mashita must have asked to stay. "Mary nagged him into it" cannot explain the litany of insane shit he subsequently does.

Showing up in the nick of time to save Yashiki? Not terribly crazy. Showing up in the nick of time to save him with a gun? Deranged.

Ok, look. I'm strongly inclined to think Mashita was not carrying the gun on him during the Hanahiko case for two reasons. First is that he never brings it up during the Hanahiko case even when in mortal danger. Also, getting caught for trespassing at the school would be much less serious than getting caught trespassing while carrying an illegal gun. Second is that he pulls it out of a paper bag instead of a holster. Nobody who is actively using or carrying a gun is gonna store it in a paper bag. He has a gun, but he doesn't have a holster.

It's clearly his own gun. He's clearly got Complicated Feelings about it judging by how quick he is to try and hand it off to Yashiki; cops don't do that, especially not a cop in a culture where bearing a gun is a huge, solemn responsibility.

And yet! He does it anyway! He goes home, digs his gun out from the bottom of his grimy dresser, and tries to give it to a man with no firearms experience.

You could argue that Yashiki doesn't accept the gun going by how your items all reset at the end of the chapter and how Mashita is still the one to use it in the Shimi-O boss fight, but just the going to Yashiki with the full intent of giving him his gun is deranged.

So he does all this shit, and then, once he shuffles offscreen, gets his life together! He actually starts that detective business he was spitballing before! He gets his life together because of Yashiki and then tries to get Yashiki to share the business he started because they met! That's like a fucking marriage proposal!

And that's not even getting into the DLC case where he bitches the whole time about being dragged into paranormal stuff (again while inviting Yashiki to work with him) and then turns around and reveals he was off researching the Masquerade case for you the whole time.

This man is a tsundere tire fire who looks like an insomniac coat hanger.

[velnna]

This might sound like an odd question but I’m planning on making my own comic at some point and I was wondering if you had any advice? Specifically in making the plot, deciding what each character does and maybe panel/page composition and how to make harmonious colour palettes?

Also one more question but when you were at the beginning of developing Stray Souls did you post little lore/plot snippets and character doodles/info or did you mainly wait until the comic was out?

(Sorry I know this is a lot but I was just wondering sort of what your process is because everything seems so seamless and well-put-together :> )

Ehh first of all the seamless and put-togetherness is an illusion 🫠

A lot of my work is built organically (fancy way of saying I just sorta wing it) and very dependent on what makes me excited at each given point. Generally, I come up with an idea for a character or a plot point and from there start branching out.

Say, I create character A. A needs a story so I create some beats for them, a beginning-middle-end type thing. While thinking of this, characters B, C, etc pop up as placeholders/devices for A's story, and the world gets shaped around it as well. Then suddenly something in the world gets decided that in turn changes A's story a little, and so on. Then I go into B, C, etc and do the same thing (build a story, let it bleed into the world and let the world bleed into it).

There's pros and cons to this sort of thing of course. Most of the time I over-develop characters or world bits that are completely unnecessary and clutter the narrative (especially when it's something like a comic, where things need to be explained visually and economically), and because of this sort of chaotic process I also tend to get entangled in my own concepts and lose track of my main threads. I don't dislike it entirely so it's just a matter of figuring out what works best for your own goals and processes.

Some general advice for comics that I've learned from trial and error: try stripping your story down to its bare bones and see what you absolutely need VS what's there for flavour or added context. Only add flavour once you're sure you can tackle the minimum, both in writing and artwise. Keep your character designs simple if you value your hands lol. It's fun to design complicated details but you WILL get tired of drawing them after a while. Sometimes it's ok to tell and not show 🤷‍♂️ if you're a one-man team sometimes you just gotta bite the bullet. Bear in mind that long stories will take YEARS to complete in comic format. Not an end all be all, but you do need to think about that. Also just go for it once you've got a structure you feel good about. I personally don't like over planning and don't even script things, so I don't think you need to have everything on paper before getting some chapters rolling. Most of what I've learned about comics has been making them, not thinking about making them. Oh, and readers tend to be more lenient than we give them credit for - if you're passionate enough about your world or characters, chances are at least some people will be interested regardless of whether you think art or writing are up to par

As for the other question, I spoiled the shit out of stray souls before launching it and still kinda do it for fun LMAO. Nothing too serious ofc but I've always loved giving people an insight into characters and world outside of the comic since the comic itself is a little peek into the whole thing. It also kinda serves to keep people interested imo

And I just can't keep my mouth shut about my stories lol

[zozo-333]

Maybe I should just write some fic of this(mostly will be WT prompt with no context)

But right now it just more scenarios, everyone is chaotic neutral here

Alien AU, please read my previous posts for context. This contains Heatherra, Alecody and Gwortney

(Some have problems, some don't, and some created them)

Chris: So, how's you guys doing these years?

Owen: Pretty good

Geoff: Not too bad, I guess

Gwen: meh

Courtney: I hate everything

Harold: This place's microbe system almost killed me, but I survived and learned lots of things

Tyler: I still don't know how to properly operate this body

Lindsay: My life's nice, but I always say the wrong things

Noah: I hope no one else here is in the family of ten. If you do, I'm sorry

Heather: I'm high and mighty but have identity issues and don't know how to explain my problem to therapist

Izzy: I'm a wanted criminal!

Everyone:

Izzy: Oh don't worry, that have nothing to do with our identity, all I did just blew up a building

(Not literally)

Chris: What's up, Ezekiel!

Ezekiel: uh *look up* cloud, bird, sun, moon, and our hom——

Chris: Ok I need you to shut up, now

(BUSTED)

Tyler: What's the big deal of jumping into the sea? Not like it'll hurt us

DJ: My escape pod crashed on sea, that's a horrible experience and I would rather not be reminded that

Courtney: Don't want to get eaten by shark

Beth: Too much injured will bust my disguise

Noah: Speaking of injured. Chris, all the challenge are safe in human standards right?

Chris: …theoretically?

Cody: …Have you test these challenges with humans?

Chris: Yes

Cody: Did they survived?

Chris: …You know, maybe I should check on that

Noah: Yeah we're so going to be bust

(Girl wasn't even trying to hide)

Heather: Izzy, you can't transform in front of other people! Our 'gun' will run out of power!

Leshawna: And how did you change back so fast? It always took me like hour to do that!

Izzy: Oh, because I didn't make internal organs, well, not all of them were missing, but most of them are

Izzy: Just watch! *Detach her arm and revealed it's shallow inside*

Camera man appear in the wrong time: MONSTER! *get knocked down*

Trent: So why did you turn into a bear and scared us?

Izzy: Cause it's fun! Also I can eat people faster

All gophers: IZZY!

Izzy: What, I'm hungry, and you know what happened when we get hungry

(energy is energy 4, also they all win the boat trip)

Chef: You boys just fine eating this?

Duncan: What's the matter? *Eating the 'meatballs'*

Brigette: This is my first time eating animal corpse…

Heather: *stamp Brigette's feet*

Brigette: I mean meat! This is my first time eat meat!

Chef: Okay…here's the pizza with grass hopper, spicy jellyfish and——

Geoff: Just give that to us, we're hungry

Owen: *come out from kitchen* Hey look! Worms with human body part(he mean hair)…maybe I shouldn't exciting about the last part

Gwen: Did normal people eat this? Whatever *eat pizza*

Chef:

Chef: Are you guys good?

(Travel to unknown place is dangerous)

Intern: Ok, due to *insert very complicated lawsuits*, we're going to check all your belongings before we landed in Egypt

Duncan: *knifes and lighters*

Gwen: *baseball bat*

Intern: Sorry you can't bring that

Izzy: *explosive*

Intern: Not surprised

Heather: *croquet mallet x3*

Cody: *a mace*

Courtney: *a very large gavel cause why not*

Intern: Why?

Harold: *three nunchaku, bunch of throwing stars, a very realistic fake katana, nerf gun, water gun and some other stuff*

Intern:

Harold: Always prepare when invaded the unknown land

(Apple game gone…right? from the exclusive clip but Heatherra)

Sierra: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H *stem broken* Ok that's a tough one, but I'll eventually get a C

Heather: *sitting next to a pile of cores* Are you going to eat that?

Sierra: Wow Heather, I don't know you like apple so much

Heather: I'm just low on energy, and Cody ate all the candy *attempted to break the stem but struggling*

Heather: Ugh! *stem snapped* I can't believe it took me 19 time to break this

Sierra: Wait——

(interrogation gone wrong, Alecody)

Alejandro: I knew there's something wrong and you'll not fool me

Cody: Umm…

Alejandro: Silent treatment is no use, I'll find a way to make you talk

Cody: Hey we don't have to do this, buddy. Or did you prefer pal? bestie? brother?

Cody: *panicking* …babe?

Alejandro:

Cody:

Cody: Oh Whatever *mind control ready*

(Gwortney telepathy 2)

Gwen: Oh Courtney, you always there when I needed, I want to stay with you

Courtney: You know, I feel just the same…

Gwen: But we can't shown that now, so maybe after the show

Sierra: They've been holding hands and staring silently at each other for fifteen minutes now, is everything okay?

(London)

Noah: He's like a eel dipping in grease…

Owen: Sounds delicious!

Noah: And slippery, so don't let your guard down, one wrong step and he'll found out

Owen: Okie dokie! Little buddy

Tyler: Uh guys? I think you stretching me too much

Owen: Wow you look like mozzarella cheese!

Noah: *facepalm*

[droppingartintotheinfinite]

Ok! So! Big Goncharov revival has happened on tumblr recently, and I’ve decided to take the opportunity when it’s handed to me to talk about one of the best movies I have ever seen.

Bear with me for a moment.

For those unfamiliar, Goncharov (1973) was a movie directed by Matteo JWHJ0715, a (then closeted) bisexual filmmaker from Italy. Martin Scorsese then lent his name to it to provide a popularity boost for the American release, which is where we get the common misconception that he directed it.

It stars a Russian mob boss named Goncharov (no first name given, for reasons I’ll discuss later) who’s brought a few key members of his gang to Naples, Italy in order to get revenge against Italian mob boss Mario Giglioli. (A good breakdown of the movie’s plot can be found in @mst3kproject’s review, which I would link here but tumblr is being weird)

Along the way, we’re introduced to his wife, Katya Goncharova, his right hand man, Andrey, Mario’s wife, Sofia Giglioli, and a few others.

Goncharov is an almost nauseatingly stereotypical man. What stereotype, you ask? Why, all of them! He’s a tall, heavily built man with a thick accent and a tendency to reference “Mother Russia” in tones of alternatively nearly reverential praise of Soviet era Russia and harsh condemnation of the Russia he leaves during the movie - the Russia directly after the Soviet Union’s fall. The way he does this is heavy handed and obviously written by a man who’s never visited Russia in his life in any era, to the point where my own lax education on the country doesn’t actually leave me unqualified to analyze the film, despite the majority of the main characters originating from it. (Though I’m sure there are great analyses to be made on the cultural inaccuracies within the film, especially given how many are entirely deliberate- but I’ll get to that later)

He’s also exhaustingly heterosexual, and very much being so with an eye towards to the beliefs of the time. There are many scenes in Goncharov that are hard to watch today, and many of the scenes between Goncharov and Katya are among them, especially the dinner scenes.

Here, you may be saying, “But Sol, didn’t you say the director was bi?” And hey, hold your horses, we’ll get to that.

Katya, Goncharov’s wife, is on the surface an ideal 70s housewife, if a bit more murderous than the average due to her mafia husband. She makes him dinner every night, defers to his whims without argument, and spends most of their shared scenes standing behind him, never beside.

She also violently murders him to avenge her lesbian lover, but as I’ve said, we’ll get to that.

Mario Giglioli, Goncharov’s rival, is just Goncharov with an Italian accent. I think if they could have cast Robert De Niro twice and had him play Mario as well as Goncharov, they would have. He has a german shepard and Goncharov makes one of his henchman steal it near the start of the film. I am unhinged about this man.

One of Goncharov’s few named henchmen is called Icepick Joe. He’s an ostensibly minor character who gets a bizarre amount of screentime covering his personal journey of *checks notes* petting Mario’s dog, stealing said dog, murdering his wife, stealing Mario’s dinner, and dying alone due to the poison in said dinner while the dog abandons him to run off into the woods.

He is quite possibly the most important character in the entire movie.

To explain why, I have to introduce two more characters, who fans of the film have no doubt been waiting for me to bring up since they started reading this post.

But first, let me talk about Goncharov’s marriage for a bit!

Goncharov and Katya are often said to have a loveless marriage, but the truth of the matter is a lot more complicated than that. There are moments throughout the film where it’s implied that they care about each other deeply, and that in any other circumstances they might have a perfectly healthy relationship, but they’re so mired in the idea of being the perfect mafia man and the perfect mafia man’s wife that everything they say or do is filtered though so many layers of performance that any actual affection they might hold for one another is suffocated under it.

No one in the film ever refers to Goncharov by his first name. There are a few contenders for what it might be - he signs his name N. Goncharov, which some have hypothesized could stand for Nikolai, some of the early promotional material called him Ivan Goncharov… but there’s nothing sufficiently internally consistent for it to be stated as his first name with true confidence.

This is deliberate. In an interview, JWHJ0715 stated: “[Goncharov] is a man consumed by his work. He’s forgotten how to be anyone other than Goncharov, mob boss, and the lack of a first name is part of this. […] Goncharov is a man who’s lost his identity in favor of the image he projects”

Katya, conversely, is only ever referred to by her first name, even when speaking to characters who would be expected to use her last. It’s not quite as complete an erasure - there are a few moments where she’ll be introduced as Katya Goncharova instead of just Katya, but the vast majority of the time she’s referred to as either Katya or “Goncharov’s wife”.

This, too, is part of an erasure of identity, though in a different way. Katya has so thoroughly separated herself from the role she plays as Goncharov’s wife that in the few moments she is referred to by her full name, you can spot a split second of confusion, like she doesn’t know who’s being spoken about.

There’s a sense that Katya is unable to be herself with Goncharov, that she’s become so caught up in the person she thinks he wants that she can’t be the person she actually is, and it’s masterfully played as this slowly poisons her ability to care for him and eventually leads to her faking her death and later killing him.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

(And, uh. Also ahead of my ability to write. This is getting long, so I’m going to break it here and post the rest later.)

[dr-docktor]

Out of context quotes from my latest TTRPG session

"Space Red Wine from Space Costcoooooo!!!"

"Wilhelm J. Weston II: Ace Attorney." "Stop introducing yourself like that! You barely passed the bar"

"Ok so Space Costco memberships function like health insurance."

"I can't believe she could tell I am a vampire!" "Dude. You wear a black and red tuxedo from like a century ago, you carry a sun umbrella everywhere, your eyes are RED, and ALSO YOU ARE CONSTNANTLY SMILING IN SUCH A WAY THAT YOUR FANGS ARE VISIBLE FROM LIKE 30 FEET AWAY" "Oh."

"Ok let me roll a luck check to see if I have money" [Rolls a Crit] "AND THE GODS SAID 'THOU ART HAVE BANDS ON BANDS.' 'THOU ART STACKED WITH CASH'"

"I'm pretty sure Zeln just scuttles around everywhere" "Yeah, true, Zeln is a scuttler"

"Yeah he's a single father, widowed very recently :(" "Single you say???"

"So she's this MASSIVE bear woman carrying a large gun-" "Bear Woman you say???"

"So she's sort of just tossing the baby back and forth between her large paws like it weighs about as much as a couple of grapes" "Yooo the vestibular development is gonna be CRACKED on that kid!" "I can't wait for him to grow up to be the worlds best pilot."

"Daycore this, Nightcore that, how about I core an apple huh?"

"Zeln, why are you teir-3 subbed to Costco?"

[After explaining a complicated trait that basically means if he owns the majority of items in a room, he gets a bonus] "Ok so I'm gonna start carrying around a container of road salt from Costco with the hope that I can claim each individual grain as an item"

Bonus: My favorite Scar I have ever written for a character

[arrowheadedbitch]

ok hi superhero fae name anon here. i totally forgot about that ask but now i remember! i always explain things best with excessive examples and i also have unmedicated adhd so bear with me here. also brace yourself.

there are names, and there are Names. names are things people call you, everybody has at least a few names. Names are the one that mean something to you. That represent you as a person.

my ocs Name is fantasia. her HERO Name. her CIVILIAN Name is both teresa hollow and katherine hollow, reese and kate for short. fantasia is a pair of identical twins.

there is ONE fantasia. fantasia is ONE Name. but it is shared between them, so when reese is using it, she's fantasia. kate can't be fantasia, because reese is. the Name is being used. she can't use it at the moment. fantasia is only one hero, but 2 people use the Name.

This is a pretty unique example, only possible because of their unique fae backstory (unimportant). Usually, Names are only usable for one person, even if multiple people have Names that are the same. Like how tim and damian are both robin in current continuity.they both have robin as a Name, but it's different robin Names. They don't share the Name, but the role.

The Names themselves aren't actually important in fae deals. They're just the easiest thing for a fae to grab. what fae WANT is the conscious. It goes Name>conscious>soul. The soul powers the conscious, the conscious is the actual person, and the Name gives a point of reference and direction for the conscious. It's a little more complicated, but thats the basics.

Demons take souls because the conscious is connected to the soul, so the conscious comes with the deal. Fae take Names because Names are also connected to the conscious.

HOWEVER. you can have multiple Names. you CANNOT have multiple souls. one soul per conscious, one conscious per Name (usually), but as name Names per conscious as you want (and create).

Only one Name can be active at once, though. is Clark Kent encounters a fae at the daily planet, or on the farm, and he gives them Kal-El? That sucks, he doesn't have Kal-El as a Name anymore. He just lost a huge part of himself. BUT he didn't get his conscious stolen. Kal-El wasn't linked up. He was Clark Kent then, not Kal-El.

That's why giving the fae false names/Names works. Technically they ARE names/Names, but they don't have the connection the fae wants. real Names are formed when it means something about who you are. when your behavior changes enough that people would thing "thats not [Name]. That's somebody else."

Some superheros have their herosonas as Names, some just as names. I think that tim and bruce definitely have their herosonas as Names, but i don't think superman is a Name. I think he has Clark Kent and Kal-El, but Superman is just a name. like when lois calls him smallville, thats a name. not a Name. Bruce wayne is a Name, but Brucie is a name.

uhh i think thats it. i hope it made sense and also that there arent typos i just kinda blacked out and came to with this essay typed up. enjoy?

That's a really interesting concept! Do you think someone else would be able to give your Name to a fae? It tends to depend on which lore you use, that's why I ask.

[wild-at-mind]



I think I actually am really upset about (everything) the referral call with my doctor. I had created this fantasy world in my head where my NHS doctor would somehow have advanced knowledge of trans and gender theory and that I could tell him the truth. Bending the truth scares me because I took long enough to get to this point because my experience of dysphoria was not what I had read it should be. It would feel like I was lying to myself somehow. But yeah I fucked up. Because he didn't know anything, and the conversation got weird. It was stuff like: did you have any adverse childhood experiences? Why are you mentally ill? Alongside more normal things like how long have you felt like this. Bearing in mind, he inherited my mental health care from my previous GP and didn't prescribe me my antidepressants, made me wonder how that would have gone if he was my GP when I was going on them for the first time. (But let's face it, it's not hard to get antidepressants on the NHS because there is Nothing. Else. Available. I can't stress that enough. So I'm sure it would have been possible. I just hope he doesn't expect his other mental health patients to be able to explain why they are mentally ill.) Having adverse childhood experiences isn't something you can help and it should not be stigmatised, and on a super advanced gender theory level yes there are people whose A.C.E. contibuted to their gender identity! However I do not feel that health professionals should be asking these questions with regards to gender referrals. It's complicated because I don't consider myself to have had A.C.E. although I did go through a stage of my illness where I really was trying to figure out why I was mentally ill (yaaay!) and disclosed some things to a psych which she said would go on my record. I guess he either hadn't looked at it or they didn't end up putting it on. The thing in question might be counted as A.C.E. on paper, though I don't personally consider it as such as ultimately I grew up in a loving and relatively stable home, which mitigates a lot of things.

From my awkward answers to his weird questions, he is now supposed to put together a referral to the gender clinic. I remembered to tell him which one I wanted (you can choose the one with the shortest waiting list even if it's far away, I think they have to do that as some of the waiting lists are like 5 years and some people just aren't near any of them). He didn't ask if I preferred a different name (I do). By the end of the call I was so frazzled that I didn't push the issue. Told myself it would be ok. I have heard horror stories about people ringing the GP to check up on their referral after a number of months and being told it was never put through. I'm trying to ignore that possibility. You're meant to get a letter within a few months but I have no faith in the NHS's letters. I had a cervical smear this year and they are meant to send you a letter saying if you have normal result or abnormal cells but I never got one. Fortunately as it's a test you can ring your GP for the result (thankfully it was normal). But me doing that should not have cancelled the letter- as far as I know there is no way the receptionist can, like, tick a box to say I was told my result verbally so don't send it. So where's my fucking letter?! On it's own it's not a big deal but as things are it goes on the pile of 'ohhhh fuck the NHS will probably dissolve within my lifetime....' that a lot of people in the UK my age and younger just kind of live with. Anyway, I realised today that I'm really not ok about any of this. The conversation with the doctor fucked me up and I've been feeling shitty ever since. I'm having an identity crisis. I'm still using my old name at work and now I barely know what my name is any more.

[incorrect-au-master]

To Artemis: is it ok if you explain Callisto? Because I really doubt you where as cruel to her as the myth described you to be, considering also how much that story got wrong similarly to the whole Medusa story which has been the most common use to paint Athena as a bad guy while it was so... so far from the truth

Artemis: Calisto? Yeah... that was complicated...

Artemis: i mean, we were close friends when she joined my followers. But... i noticed something was... off with her.

Artemis: like, she stared at me a lot, always being secretive yet wanting to spend a lot of time with me... in restrospective, i should've noticed she had a crush on me.

Artemis: in fact, she DID confess to me, but... i kinda freaked out and... she run away in embarasment... i felt really bad afterwards...

Artemis: i looked for her to talk things out but, when i found her, she was freaking making out with... i don't know what it was, a copy of me or something!

Artemis: gods, i was furious... so... yeah. I turned her into a bear and... that's the end of it...

Artemis: it's... not something i feel proud of, honestly...

[infoglitch]

Fuck.

Yeah im currently suffering. Not any wounds, not any insults, not any tragedies, just... God.

Let's talk about red like roses. (All 3 parts)

Oki need to give context. I'm glitch and I have been a... Scarred fan of rwby. I enjoyed the first four Volumes before I kinda feel off after volume 5. At first I was very much in love with it but once I finished Volume 5 I just felt hollow like I didn't want to watch the series so I left it, and I left the fandom before ever being able to interact with it.

And so as explained by my complicated relationship with Rwby I only really got back into the series because of BBtag. And then I looked into it and oh dear God it's a mess.

Apparently it's already volume 9 and apparently the writing is getting better which I find hard to believe still.

Bmblb happened which is just.. wow, took 3 volumes to finish a subplot I had no interest in because let's face it, little me didn't get sexuality because I was in a religious house hold and also because I was never exposed to that media so when first read the word lesbian. I read it as "leash-a-bin". (It sounded Spanish ok.)

Anyway I also found out about the uh... The "allegations" of rt and yeah. And obviously a combination of "i could do it better", spite, and love for rwby all mix together into me deciding to write page 1 of rwby: fate, and that's where I put my foot down and said "I'm writing this, because I need to give this series it's respect".

So now here I am 5 pages deep into Rwby fate and 63 pages deep in my own book. And I'm on my bed just looking for music to listen to and I come across.

Red

Like

Roses

I listened to it and it just... God it feels so strange listening to a song I barely listen to before and I'm flooded with melancholy and yet nostalgia. This song is still good despite everything and it just hurts to listen and know, this is a song for a series that has done nothing but fail and harm it's fans.

It hurts because this song, captures the idea of ruby. She's still naive no matter how you look at it. She became a huntress to be like her mother and the rest of her family as well as to follow in the footsteps of her favorite fairy tales. Fairy tales, y'know, the fairy tales that inspired the characters.

Red riding hood,

Snow White,

Beauty and the beast,

Goldi(Y)locks, (that one's kind of a stretch I know)

RWBY

And thats not all of it because technically red like roses is only one a third of the whole actual song. Theres still part II in which is just a major tone shift

🎶I couldn't take it, couldn't stand another minute

Couldn't bear another day without you in it

All of the joy that I had known for all my life

Was stripped away from me the minute that you died

To have you in my life was all I ever wanted

But now without you, I'm a soul forever haunted

Can't help but feel that I had taken you for granted

No way in hell that I can ever comprehend this

I wasn't dreaming when they told me you were gone

I was wide awake and feeling that they had to be wrong

How could you leave me when you swore that you would stay?

Now I'm stuck inside a nightmare every single effing day

It's like a movie but there's not a happy ending

Every scene fades black and there's no pretending

This little fairy tale doesn't seem to end well

There's no knight in shining armor who will wake me from the spell

I know you didn't plan this

You tried to do what's right

But in the middle of this madness

I'm the one (I'm the one) you left to win this fight

Red like roses

Fills my head with dreams and finds me

Always closer to the emptiness and sadness

That has come to take the place of you🎶

Just, holy shit does this feel strange listening to. While the other one is melancholic and quiet, only having four lyrics during the start.

Part II is just a fury of emotions that just hit me HARD. The first was so quiet letting it's music sing for it self and the second one was the flurry of spiraling feelings. The anger, the sorrow, the regret, all spiraling into each other creating a hectic and wild rhythm. And it just absolutely HITS for me. And yet this isn't my favorite part of red like roses.

That goes to-

(yes I'm using the one for the lyrics fuck you)

Part III is interesting. It's from volume yet this feels like a volume 1 song. The song unlike it's predecessors speaks a new tune, a calm, determined, tone with it not focusing only on the past but also on the now, it's collected itself and it's ready to go forward. To escape the pain and move forward.

This is all just fancy words but I do love each part of red like roses. And it still reminds me of my love for rwby and it just..

It hurts to remember every bit of rwby and the failure it's becoming, we will most likely never see rwby V10 and if we do it'll probably be the final volume.

And I'm divided, I hate rooster teeth and want them to fail but I still want rwby to get an ending. But I've gone over this dilemma.

Right now all I have to say is...

"Fuck, I love rwby."

[greypetrel]

[GUIDE] from the prompt list for Aisling and Cullen :)

Was this an excuse to delve right into Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts? YES. (Thank you it is probably my favourite quest in the game, with the Arbor Wilds. :3 )

  [ GUIDE ]:          in the process of guiding the receiver through a crowded place, the sender’s hand protectively grazes against the small of their back (from this list, ask some more if you'd like!)

***

“Pardon me.”

It came in a snap, in the same clipped tone Aisling -no, the Inquisitor now- used when he and Leliana couldn’t stop fighting in the War Room and she wanted to stop them. The tone that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but I need my Commander for a moment, there’s an urgent matter of security to discuss.”

She explained, calm but firm. Except, no one in the small crowd that gathered around him and had followed him everywhere he had tried to hide moved. There was some giggle from one of the ladies, a huff from the Comte that just- he couldn’t focus on much of anything now, occupied to keep his breath steady and present at all and totally frozen in place.

“In private, if you please. Now if you would excuse us…”

And just like that, he felt her resting a hand on his back, somewhere in the middle, the other gently resting on the closer elbow, and delicately but firmly pushing him away from his spot.

He followed her, glance trained before him but not really looking at anything, the crowd was too thick and he felt all eyes on him and his heart was bearing in his eardrums loud, too loud-

She pushed on his elbow, turning them steeply on the right.

“It’s ok. It’s ok, we’re out. We’re alone, breathe.”

She coaxed him, voice turned tender and soft as after another turn on the right she finally stopped, guiding them to lean against a wall. The air was fresh, a gentle breeze caressing his skin as he relaxed and let the panic subside. First he felt the breeze, and then her hand on his back, rubbing circles on the Velvet of his uniform.

After a minute or two, without any other word, his breathe came easier and more regular, and the beating sound of his heart subsided a little, vision clearing.

They were in a balcony, in a nook protected from view illuminated just by the moonlight and the faint light coming from the door. She was still touching him, looking up at him to check whether he was good or not. She smiled when she saw recognition.

“There you are.”

“T-that’s my line.”

“There we are, then.” She giggles. “Better?”

“I-” He shook his head, breath coming up in a huff before he admitted it. There was indeed just them, the Ambassador away from who knew what at this point. “Yes, thank you.”

She just nodded, with a smile still a little filled with worry, but didn’t interrupt the contact. It’s been hours since the Ball started, and it was gonna get dragged for hours still. He didn’t even notice her slipping back into the Ballroom, honestly: last he saw her, she was checking on him, curious about the people that were crowding him. She had asked him to dance, shily and probing, and he didn’t think she would have gotten back after he told her no a little too brashly, and she all but scampered away, masking her embarrassment with a smile and an excuse to need to slip into the library anyway.

“You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Did you mind it? I…” She snorted through her nose, face crinkling in a pout. “…I’m sorry, I didn’t want to intrude but when I saw that disgusting Comte groping you, I-”

Josephine had made a point in the last months to express her worry about how much the Inquisitor wore her heart on her sleeve and was like an open book. Training her to mask and to put up a face for the Winter Palace has been the most difficult thing. She’s been great until five minutes ago, not even flinching when people called her Rabbit or questioned everything about her in her earshot, from her role to her dress to the tattoos on her face -left bare and open by a complicated game of braids Leliana had made. In that momen, as most often when it came to her, he felt just grateful for her being so easy to read and open in her feelings.It was soothing and it was relatable, and it made all that easier opening up with her, if she was the first to show vulnerability. So, he just moved his hand to cover hers, still on his elbow, squeezing down.

“I didn’t. You should not have bothered for me, tho, they treated you far worse…”

She snorted, shrugging it off without looking at him. Her right hand on his back stopped on his track, meanwhile, without her really realising it, resting on the small of his back.

“I expected the insults, and I can take them, I’m used to it. Touching without consent, when it’s clear that there’s none and the other person’s not at ease, tho?”

It was rhetoric, and as she ended it, she blinked once, realising exactly where her hand was resting and that she didn’t really asked for consent either.

“As if I’m any better, anyway, I’m really sorry, tell me if you don’t-” She started to ramble, instantly taking her hand away and stepping on the side, cheeks flushing red.

“No!” He just blurted, turning after her, to face her, and slipping hands to grab both her wrists. “No, wait. I- Ah, I don’t mind it. From you.”

He fumbled, just a little, slowly bringing her hands -her wrists where little in his hands- behind him, to place not one but both where one was before, on the small of his back. He had to slip closer, taking one step further, and there, in a palace full of scheming Orlesians, an assassin on the loose and still too many clues to retrieve, it felt stolen and too intimate than it actually was. And all the dearest for the context.

“You can touch me anytime. I like it, if it’s you.”

She looked up, bashfully, and smiled at him, nodding to signal she heard. Still blushing, the tip of her ears deliciously flushed. Without an invitation, she stepped a little forward in a hug, squeezing him and sighing, contented. He circled her shoulders with his arms, resting his chin on top of her head, very delicately so not to ruin the complex hairdo.

“Likewise… And thank you. I am sorry you're being treated so bad.”

“I should be the one to thank you, really.”

“I hate it, here.”

“Me too.”

They were allowed just some brief moments, before someone was heard from inside asking for the Inquisitor and, with a muffled heavy groan in Cullen’s chest, she reluctantly had to break the hug. Still staying there for a moment, hands still on the small of his back and looking up.

“Well, the Servant’s Quarters won’t explore themselves, unfortunately…”

“You’d better go, before Dorian drinks too much and Cassandra punches someone.”

“Wish me luck?”

He snorts, slipping a hand to play with his lucky coin, which she had insisted on having mounted as a necklace and was wearing at her neck, just a band of blue ribbon to tie it at her neck. He turned it twice in his hand, before bending down and pecking a kiss on her lips.

“Some more can’t hurt, Lucky. Be careful.”

“You too, feel free to tell them I’ll be right back to zap their butts if they bother you again, ok?”

“I’d love to see it.”