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flouryhedgehog · 2 days

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Voting is a tool.

By which I mean, voting is just a tool; it isn't sacred or magical.

And by which I also mean, voting is one tool that is good for one kind of purpose. If it isn't suitable for the goal you're trying to achieve, you need different tools.

Every time someone makes a post on here rightly criticizing Joe Biden's support for genocide, there's at least one person in the notes saying "but remember, you still have to vote for him!" or, "did you know Trump wants to deport Muslims?" or, "then who do you want me to vote for?"

But that's like going into a plant nursery and demanding they sell you the correct drill bit for planting a tree. They will never sell you the drill bit you want, because the drill bit you want--the drill bit suitable for planting trees--doesn't exist, and also plant nurseries don't sell drill bits.

Standing in the plant nursery asking about drill bits will probably initially get you people explaining to you where to find a shovel, and a watering can, and some mulch, because those are tools that will help you plant the tree. If you ignore the attempts to educate you, and start yelling about how they must just want you to throw away your drill, and also they probably hate trees and hate you and want you, personally, to suffer in a world without shade, you'll start getting different answers, like "please stop shouting" and "I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

Because you're demanding that they tell you how to use the wrong tool for the job. They can never give you the answer you want; the answer you want doesn't exist.

I can't tell you who to vote for to prevent the rise of fascism in the United States, both because you can't prevent something that's already happened, and because you can't vote your way out of fascism.

You need different tools; you need to ask different questions and be willing to sit with the answers, even if they aren't the answers you want.

Boycotts are a tool. Protests are a tool. Shutting down highways, physically blocking weapons shipments, picketing arms companies, those are tools. So is going to your library and checking out books about Palestine, and about decolonization generally.

Instead of asking which war criminal you should vote for, perhaps ask how you can organize members of your community to support and look after each other and keep each other safe. Perhaps ask how you can support Land Back and prison abolition. Ask how you can organize a union in your workplace.

The tool you're most comfortable using isn't going to work for this job. Learn how to use another.

#palestine #joe biden #genocide joe #us politics

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youandiwerealive · 3 days

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Praying that the blood doesn’t stain [rd]

Author’s note: I cried so much while writing this one, I don’t even know what to say to you, girls, this broke my heart. Thank you to the anon who requested insecure dad!Rúben, sorry this took such a huge turn 😭 Hope you somehow enjoy this!

Warnings: there’s mentions of death and blood in this one ‼️

wc: 2107 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

There’s no biggest joy in Rúben’s life than his family. You and your daughter, Matilde, really are the light of his eyes. The little girl has him wrapped around her tiny finger, he could never say no her.

“Daddy, can I paint your nails pink?” - the 4 year old would ask him in her cute voice.

“You want to paint my nails, Mati? Of course, but choose a pretty shade of pink that matches daddy’s game shirt, okay?” - he would say to her in a soft voice, always smiling at his baby.

Matilde would do everything with his dad. Anywhere Rúben went, Matilde was there too, always tightly held at his hip, or taking her slow baby steps towards her daddy’s direction.

And Rúben couldn’t stop thanking God, the stars, destiny, whatever put you in his way: the love of his life that made him a dad, the most important role of his life. Nothing could top the importance that you and Matilde had in Rúben’s life, he would always put his girls first. He never felt so happy, with his daughter on his lap and his wife by his side, living in your indestructible bubble of love.

But it all changed two years ago. Rúben will never forget that fateful afternoon, he was having a tea party with your baby, when he got the call from the hospital. A drunk driver hit your car while you were on your way home, making Rúben losing his other half, forever. The news hitting him like a shot in the chest, straight to the heart.

He will never recover from your absence, leaving him to raise the light of your lives all by himself. Matilde is now six years old, she has already started school, now learning how to draw her first letters. Rúben still cries himself to sleep every single night, thinking about you, about how unfair fate was to both of you. You just had your baby, Matilde was only four years old when she lost his mother.

He misses you so fucking much, and your daughter does too. Rúben finds it incredible how Matilde remembers so much of you, always remembering things that you used to say to her, plays and jokes that you had with her. Rúben secretly believes that you talk to her in her dreams, because it’s like she has you always by her side.

Rúben tries his best to not break down in front of your child, especially when she asks about you. It’s been tough for Rúben to be a single dad, missing your support, the way you always seemed to make every thing right. He never looked at another woman again, his eyes and heart belonging to his daughter only - as well as to you, forever. He still wears his wedding ring, never taking it off. He hates the fact that life didn’t allowed him to say goodbye to you, to give you one last kiss. The last time he told you he loved you was over the phone, while you informed him that you were on your way home. Him and Mati cheekily saying “we love youuuu”, over the phone, while Rúben would pretend to drink a cup of tea, wearing a tiara on his head and sitting besides Berny - the bunny, and Johnny - the bear, named after Bernardo and John Stones, Rúben’s friends and Mati’s uncles.

His friends and family never left his side, they notice that Rúben has never been the same again after what happened, everybody knows it.

Matilde is the only thing that can make him smile, making him feel alive as he teaches her how to write her name, paints ballerinas and flowers with her, cooks for her and teaches her how vegetables and fruits are important for her health. Rúben’s life mission is educating his girl in the best possible way he can, be by her side at all times and protect her from every one and every thing.

Every time Rúben looks at his daughter, his heart stings a little, she looks so much like you now. She has your eyes, your smile. At the same time, there’s nothing that he loves more than looking at his baby, resembling the love of his life so much, like you’re still with them.

He can’t do his daughter’s hair as pretty as you could, but Matilde is a gentle and caring girl, she always has a smile on her face and a compliment to give to her dad. “I love my ponytails daddy, you did great” - she would always notice every morning after Rúben would neatly comb her hair, using her favourite pink hair clips with butterflies on them.

She would thank him with a gentle kiss on his cheek, his favourite feeling in the world being the love of your daughter, the way she would tightly wrap her tiny arms around his neck when he would pick her up, how she would hold his hand while walking in the street, her loving kisses on her father’s face, and the way she laughs when his beard tickles her.

When Matilde is at school and Rúben founds himself alone, he lets his thoughts take advantage of him. You are always on his mind, there’s not a second when he isn’t thinking about you. But when nobody is watching, he cries his heart out, still questioning life about the reason why they took you away from him. He often goes to the cemetery, to talk to you, to tell you everything about Matilde - even though he knows you’re always watching over her, protecting your baby. He drops kisses on your grave, whispering how much he loves you, how much he misses you. And how badly he needs you more and more as time goes by. Matilde is getting bigger and she needed her mother too.

After he picks her up from school, Rúben is cooking dinner for the both of them, while his daughter is playing in the garden. He gets lost in his thoughts, unable to stop himself to think how the house is silent without you in it, how life was never the same.

His daughter’s cry takes him out of his trance. He immediately goes to search her outside, Matilde already running to meet her dad. Rúben’s heart breaks at the sight: his baby’s face is wet from all the tears, and her noise and chin are running blood.

Rúben immediately picks her up and rushes to the bathroom, sitting his daughter on the counter, while he tries to clean up her wounds. The little girl hisses and whimpers in pain, poor child fell while playing on the rocks - bruising her knees too. Rúben stops the bleeding and decorates his girl’s wounds with pink band-aids that have hearts in them. Those make Matilde smile a little bit, as she stretches her arms to hug his dad. Rúben holds her tightly, the girl hiding her sad face on his dad’s neck. He kisses her head non-stop, now lying in bed with his daughter still in his chest.

Matilde sleeps in Rúben’s bed now. It’s been like this since you passed away, he feels like he can’t sleep alone anymore - his nightmares about your accident chasing him every night.

The two of them stay silent as Rúben is still leaving kisses on his precious baby and stroking her back carefully. All of the sudden, there’s a little sound.

“Daddy?” - Matilde asks quietly, her voice sounding muffled from her face still being hidden on her dad’s neck.

“Yes, amor?” - Matilde knows a lot of portuguese now, understanding all the pet names and the lectures her father gives her sometimes.

“I miss mommy” - she admits with a little cry escaping her eyes.

Rúben closes his eyes and sighs. “I know, baby. I miss her too” - he admits to his daughter, his voice threatening to fail as well.

“Do you still love her, even though she’s not here with us?” - the little girl questions, her big brown eyes now looking up at his father, who kissed her forehead before speaking.

“Of course I do, filha. Have you stopped loving mommy?” - he asks her back and smiles when the girl firmly shakes her head ‘no’.

“You see, mommy is not physically here with us, but she’s always around. She’s always inside of us, here” - he points at the where his heart is located.

“In our hearts?” - Matilde confirms the place.

“In our hearts, baby. You know the necklace you wear every single day, since you were little?” - Rúben references the silver necklace that has a butterfly, a flower and the letter ‘M’ engraved on a plate in a round shape. You bought it and personalised it to gift it to your daughter.

The initial letter of her name, the butterfly - to let her know that she can always rebirth and become the best version of herself, and a flower - a tulip, to be more specific. The tulip is the flower that represent the perfect love, and you put it on her necklace so she can always remember that she is fruit of a gigantic and true love, yours and Rúben’s, and his mission is to teach her how to never set for anything less than the love his parents shared, that got her into his world.

“My necklace, yes” - the girl answers while her hand instinctively reaches to touch it.

“Mommy gave it to you, and while you have it on, she’s always looking down at you and protecting you. That’s why you can never take it off, Mati” - her father explained.

The girl just smiled at his father, and hugged him tightly, knowing that he is all that she has, but feeling in her heart that her mother is always by her side.

That night, while Matilde was peacefully sleeping in his chest, Rúben couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried.

His mind was rushing from the previous events - remembering her face full of tears and blood, the conversation about you. Rúben can’t help but doubt himself as a father - it happens more often that he would like to.

It’s been two years, but he’s still discovering how to be a solo father, an adventure that he had to take on with his daughter - not really having a choice. And sometimes he can’t help but doubt his ‘daddy abilities’ - fighting himself for not being attentive enough to protect Matilde from hurting herself on those damn rocks. That’s his job, for fucks sake. He needs to pay full attention to his baby, to prevent this type of things from happening. He would never forgive himself if something happened to the light of his life.

He misses you, your advices. He misses your mom side, you were the perfect mother to Matilde, and he can’t help but imagine how would life be if you were still here with them. Matilde has a lot of your personality, she is extroverted, funny, smiley and bubbly - just like you were. There’s times where she gives Rúben some sassy answers, leaving him speechless, having an attitude just like yours. He looks at pictures of you two, when you started dating, and some pictures already after Matilde was born. He knows that the blood on Matilde’s wounds won’t stain her clothes, but the blood surrounding your loss will forever stain his heart, his mind, his life.

Life without you doesn’t seem worthy of living most of the times to him, but his baby is the only thing pushing him from the ground. She’s his partner in life now, filling his heart with love and laugh when all he wants to do is cry.

The moments when they sing in the car on their way to school, when Matilde makes Rúben dance like a proper ballerina - making him wear a pink tutu and all, make his life worth living. His baby’s laugh means the world to him, gives him strength and hope in a brighter future.

He wishes you were here with him, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. But, the way your daughter starts stirring in her sleep, and holds herself tightly to him for comfort and protection, already looks like a sign to him. He’s a good dad, and he and Mati will never be alone, since they have the most beautiful and bright star looking down at them, protecting and guiding them - forever.

#ruben dias #dad!ruben #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #writer thoughts #thoughts about football players #football imagines #football fanfic

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butmakeitgayblog · 2 days

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So we know CI Clarke like to nibble nibble on Lexa whenever wherever. But are there any instances where she’s literally latched on her coz of something her wife did or say that’s just too adorable?

There's plenty of times in their day to day where Lexa is simply too cute, too gorgeous for words and Clarke quite literally just wants to eat her up. Her secret little pair of reading glasses or the way she smacks her lips in her sleep, the way she gets broody and tucks her face into Clarke's neck when she isn't feeling well. The way she can volley between curtious and so fucking rude it'd make your eyes water, the way she scrunches her nose up at something she finds so tacky she can't even begin to contain herself.

There's just so many shades of Lexa, and each one is perfectly wonderful, and extremely biteable 😌

But also, the thing with Lexa is that she's not a particularly outwardly vocal person about her feelings. She's not a partner who says "I love you" often, because she prefers to show it in her actions. Words are too easy to fake. And she's not the kind of person who uses pet names in a genuine sense (beyond Darling) very often, because she loves Clarke's name. The sound of it, the taste of it, the way it makes her feel knowing that name and that girl belong to her, every bit as much as she belongs to it. So she uses it.

So when it comes to Lexa, it's always in the quiet moments that Clarke has learned to listen for the big things. To recognize big moments that really show all the thoughts and feelings that have sat tidy behind the veil of Lexa's carefully crafted indifference.

Because those are the moments when Lexa will turn to her and say something that just... knocks the absolute fucking wind out of her. A random Saturday morning that feels so mundane her past self would cry in agony just at the thought of it, silently drinking their coffees and sharing pain au chocolat that the cook made fresh that morning. Reading or scrolling their phones while ignoring each other's incessant yawning and absently running hands along each other's back, still stiff from sleep.

Those are always the times when Lexa will just let the veil drop to Clarke's "What are you thinking?" with a thoughtful and slowly hummed, "That I'm happy... That... if one day I had no memory of my life, I'd never want to forget this. I think I'd be fine not remembering one single other thing about myself. Except you. And us. Just like this... I'd want you to always tell me stories about this."

It's bizarre and seemingly out of nowhere, but that's why it's so perfectly Lexa in that in way, and truthfully, how is Clarke expected to do anything other than physically attack her wife with nibbles, bites, and kisses that leave the kind of marks that make sure she wont forget? Can't forget. At least not for the rest of the day.

#anon #cruel intentions au #does earn her very stern admonishments about “crumbs clarke!” and “i— you're child— you're making me spill my coffee!”?#yes #but does that all come through her stupidly and offensively pretty smile while Lexa lets her do whatever she wants anyway?#also yes

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nostalgicish · 1 month

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happy (belated) birthday to @heavilycaffeinatedsblog !

#2251.5 Miles #this is one of my favorite fics !#you should read it !!!#based off one that one scene where lance starts singing his favorite song all dramatically #heavily_caffeinated #voltron #vld #klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld keith #vld lance #klance fic #klance fic rec #modern au #my art i guess #no i still have not learned how to shade and i never will #heavily

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theswedishpajas · 2 months

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The man truly can’t take a genuine compliment 🙄

#my art stuff #digital art #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #this is part of a series I like to call “I’m never settling on a singular detailed artstyle”#I have no consistency in drawing realistic people/characters other than my shapy cartoon style #but I truly don’t get enough opportunity to properly shade anything with art in that style-!!! it always looks weird to me-!!!!!#I think some rude lil worm in my brain is wriggling around telling me it’s a futile attempt at still doing realism #cus I’m one of those “gifted” artists that grew up promising his parents he’ll end up among the big names or whatever #constantly training to become better at art but with realism oil paintings as the goal #you know how it is 😔#I wanna shade my lil funky designs but they never feel good enough to really put energy into or whatever so I compromise with stuff -#- like this where I try to draw characters more accurately while still stylizing them and shading them however I feel like it #which is great and all but I should really learn to give my more relaxed and less perfectionist art a chance #I deserve to enjoy the process and the result without working myself dead #it’s so much easier and rewarding to copy cartoon styles - stylizing realism makes me too anxious of doing it “wrong”#at least cartoon styles give me a goal to reach or a reference to strive towards #man I really should just cut myself some slack altogether #either way - this man is a flustered mess and he’s embarrassed about being called adorable in public or something #being teased in an affectionate way about his sweeter side and stuff #don’t ask why he’s shirtless - anatomy is just a lot more fun for me to draw sometimes #tasteful nudity and all that is extremely gorgeous to me #i need to practice anatomy more cus I just kinda did some shit and went with it this time with a BIT of consideration for muscle structure

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kiriscreama · 8 months

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i still don’t know how to draw but i got bored so here’s another one of these

disclaimer, the can of tea uraraka is floating is supposed to look kind of like a can of Ito En green tea, but the writing is super inaccurate.

#i stopped drawing for like 5 years so i still draw like i did at 16 lmao #and never learned how to properly shade #but this was fun!#i should draw more #dekusquad #mha fanart #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #uraraka ochako #aoyama yuuga #asui tsuyu #iida tenya #oh god i dont have an art tag #ham shut up challenge

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reyryz · 8 months

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this light and shadow duo shit is SERIOUS!!!

#knb #reezdoodles #idk how to do it in color so. ive resorted to black and white #me and grayscale r actually besties!!! been working w them for ten or so years 🤝🏼#ill make it have color later...#whether its the red and blue gradient thing or like. their actual coloes #colors*#kurokos head is at such a weird angle im kicking myself over it #also no i never learned how to draw ears in 3d... its a flat 2d shape for me.....#if u ask me where the lights coming from u get a 🤷🏻‍♀️ answer #for kagami its from the bottom #for kuroko its from behind??#all u need to know is kagamis casting a shadow on kuroko okay #urgrhrjrhj i might go back in and fix it while its still in black and white #im almost certainly gonna go back in and change the light source for kagami #even tho he looks cool as shit rn #me: ill make the shading simplistic and harsh #me: nevermind ill make the shading a super long and complex process like always!#rips hair out

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pumaskulls · 1 year

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finally discovered a way to do shading that.....isn't completely awful?? im going a lil insane over this newfound power but shhh

#my art #my ocs #os: jonas doesnt know #oc: nisha madison #digital art #obvs i still v much need to learn how shadow/light looks irl bc ive literally never practiced shading before #but!! this is the first step forward!!!!#idk how often i'll actively try to do complicated shading #but i think i'd like to try using simple shading styles more regularly #oh also nisha has fluffy ears now bc my buddy has the biggest brain and drew her with them and i adore it <3 #i have so much other art i need to do but the mental illness says its comfort OC time only 😪

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mizukagami-takamagahara · 2 years

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One thing I end up thinking about a lot is the relationship between The Origin and Alpha 01.

At this time, both are characters we know very little about. We know what the Origin is to the BlazBlue story, but we really know nothing about what she was as a person, in her lifetime. With Alpha, we have her design and name, but everything else we can only glean through implication and assumption.

Now I’m not entirely sure about this, but between them, the only thing we know for certain was that the Origin was the first PFD to make it to the Amaterasu Unit.

I may be misremembering- correct me with sources if I’m wrong- but I don’t think we know for sure that she was the first PFD overall (within her line or otherwise) OR that she was even the first to be sent into the Boundary. All we know as absolute fact is that she was the first that made it to their goal, the one who took over the Amaterasu Unit, and the one who functionally ‘gave’ or ‘earned’ souls to/for all her ‘sister’ units.

As for Alpha, given her name and her design, she seems to be one of the Boundary Interface Prime Field Devices, like Lambda, Mu, and Nu. We absolutely don’t know that for sure, though. We also don’t know when she existed- was it during the Origin’s era, or early in the BlazBlue era/world/possibility? Or did she appear in both? Further, what on earth is her connection to Ragna- assuming there is one to begin with.

I do believe there is some link. Another creator I’m aware of, the man behind Fairy Tail and Eden’s Zero, likes to make characters that look the same for Doylist reasons- they’re a reference for himself and the readers, but don’t mean anything in canon/in universe. It’s my understanding that Mori isn’t doing that. Similarities between characters in the overall BlazBlue series have, thus far, almost always been Watsonian- that is to say, there is an in-story reason behind them.

With that on my mind, I am positive that Alpha and Ragna look alike for a purposeful reason. One that I desperately hope we will get enough future BlazBlue content to learn about.

My current wild, off-the-cuff, working theory is that Alpha originates from the pre-BlazBlue world, the one that created the Origin. One idea would be that Alpha was created before the Origin, perhaps within the same line of PFDs, and that she would therefore be a ‘big sister’ in the eyes of the Origin after they both gained their souls/sentience.

Alternatively, regardless of when she was made in relation to the Origin, I’d theorize that Alpha played a key part in the Prime Field War that led the Origin to recreate the world. I imagine Alpha fighting for her sisters during the Prime Field War, and ending up coming across as a ‘protector’ figure to the Origin.

If this were true, Alpha would have a sort of special relationship with the Origin trapped watching the war unfold from the Amaterasu Unit. It would be for this reason that, when making her new world, the world of BlazBlue that we know of, the Origin would base her ‘Central Fiction’ off of Alpha. Ragna would be created to fill Alpha’s role as the protector, the older sibling, the hero that the Origin saw her as.

But, for now, this is just some vague theory I have. It’s just how I imagine these plot threads would be resolved. Honestly, it doesn’t feel entirely BlazBlue to me, so I certainly won’t be surprised if I’m entirely off the mark when if we see these characters explored officially.

But, to summarize my main points;

I am confident that Alpha 01 and the Origin are not the same person.

I’m not convinced that the Origin was the first PFD at all; only that she was the first to acquire a soul and/or the first to make contact with the Amaterasu Unit.

I’m not sure that Ragna, as we know him, existed at all during the Origin’s lifetime. I theorize that she invented him, based on someone else in her life, when she created the BlazBlue world.

If the above is true, I believe Alpha would be that person.

Like I mentioned before, if anything from this theory has already been deconfirmed by canon, please let me know (with a source!) I get my fun in fandoms by treating them kind of like puzzles to solve; I wanna take my little clues and put together the most accurate picture I can.

#blazblue #blazblue central fiction #ragna the bloodedge #alpha 1 #prime field device #boundary interface prime field device #I see a lot of people in the fandom thinking that the origin and alpha are the same #or crediting the origin with a LOT of firsts that I don't THINK have been confirmed #zero shade ofc #it just kind of gets me thinking #honestly making this post did the same thing #now my brain won't stop going on about all the OTHER stuff we're still unclear on #I'd kill to know how events went down in the post CF world that led it to the epilogue we saw #ragna and terumi- the major players in pushing events- are supposedly absent from that world #but the rest of the cast seem to have made it to similar points in their lives #how did the ikaruga war go down without terumi messing with Jin's memories???#how did noel learn about her PFD life and reunite with and/or save her sisters???#etc etc I will never be able to sleep my brain is too full of blazblue #ao no imakagami #bb meta

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pegging-satan · 1 year

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Fuck it submissive babygirl Toji time

#I still don’t know how to shade 🤪 I’ve been working on this for several days now and I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’ll never look #how I want it to look. I’ve made my peace with it. but anyways I think it came out decently well considering I’m using the sketchbook app #on my iPhone and my fingers but what I’m saying is that it COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER #whatever whatever it’s also my first time drawing and colouring comething like this so like yeah I still have a lot to learn ig #and backgrounds? idk her #But whatever I’ll stop being so self critical now #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #my art

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marklikely · 1 year

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misogyny has people in a death grip because how the hell did we end up in a world where people think billy is the most important defining characteristic of a black christmas movie

#'this shouldnt be called black christmas bc billy isnt in it' is the dumbest fucking take imaginable im sorry. i had to say it.#the most important characters in black christmas are the women at the centre of it all billy is literally only there to be like #a physical embodiment of the rise in serial killers and particularly misogynist violence #thats his entire purpose thats why in the movie we never see him we never learn his backstory (glares angrily at bc2006)#because it doesnt fucking matter what matters is that he terrorizes and harrases and murders women.#so yes while i think the 2019 version is still wildly different from the original in a lot of meaningful ways #(all of which adds up to it not really being fit to be considered black christmas)#i dont think excluding billy is a valid difference. replacing him w another embodiment of patriarchy is fine #the core defining feature of black christmas is its feminist themes and like #maybe its just my fave horror movie so im defensive but boiling it down so that 'its all about billy' is like #a view on the original movie that i PERSONALLY think is so dumb that it offends me #avpost #no shade to the people that like him or whatever. thats a different story #i may not share your taste in men but i dont think its an issue if youre like wow hes sooo hot or w.e. thats your opinion #im more taking issue w the people who are like 'WHAAAAT how can you have a black christmas movie with NO BILLY'#like. as if his existence is what makes it black christmas. that offends me.#black christmas is made by jess bradford and her abortion smh.

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rainbow-sparks · 1 year

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woah improvement???? :00

these are redraws of these

top ones are from Nov 30th 2022

old Greg is from like Jan 4th 2022 and old Beth is from like March 27th 2022

#I actually used a reference from the resent Beth picture #she looks a lot less happy because of how my hc have evolved #(what I mean by that is Elizabeth gets tormented by her brothers; Micheal's just an teen who never learned how to express emotions unless #through violence *YES I'M PROJECTING STFU D':* as for Crying Child; it's because jealousy *Mom loves her hates him* and just because Mike #has been doing the same to him since he was able to crawl :// Mike; William; and Lora*Mrs.Afton* all despise CC because another hc I have #*SA mention in this hc* CC was conceived from Lora's ex fiance assaulting her :/ he was arrested but CC looks like the pathetic man so...#constant reminder :/// oh well)#PROBLEMS WITH THE OLD DRAWINGS WHOOO; Gregory's face shape is a fucking circle and his hair looks like scribbles #SOME OF THE LINES DON'T EVEN CONNECT??? Same with Beth!!! I mean the face is a bit better but that's it #the bows don't match the shirt; cold colour warm colour; doesn't fit #also the shade of red looks horrible in it #I mentioned in the original post that she looks like Glen; Chucky's kid; I still think that #Gregory's old shirt is so ew #just ew #:///#why so many bandaids? I like the stickers though snickers are cool I like stickers:)))#wait wait wait why does he old have one ear??? :$#I don't remember the time for the old ones (probably about an hour or so each) but foe the recent they took like 2 hours :// yaay :/#I spent most of today drawing or trying to get enough of those stupid star things so I can do the last level on world 4 for super mario 3d #world (idfk know why the things are called; I haven't read much and haven't bothered to look it up; probably should though ://) anyway I #need 50 of them by only have...28? 20 somethings maybe 30 if I forgot to check becfore I turned the game off last time...idk man #I have been to school in 2 days which I'm fine with tbh but my dad is probably gonna make me go tomorrow (it's 10:44 as I type this so it's #not December yet; I don't have to say today; it isn't 12 yet)#I missed a while week once like the first week of November #:// anyway #the thing in redraw Gregory's picture is the panel of botton you use to repair Freddy #gregory fnaf #elizabeth afton #gregory fnaf sb

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sapphic-bats · 2 months

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Warlock asks Nanny about it once.

She’s cutting apples for him, just the way he likes, and he’s gazing out of the window at the lush, green gardens that his mother so proudly upholds. Among the waxy leaves and spindly saplings, Brother Francis tends to the flora carefully, though Warlock’s quite sure he’s just taking certain leaves between his finger and his thumb, and studying them closely. But what did Warlock know about gardening?

He notices Nanny looking out those windows, too. Though she always gazes and stares with a deep intent, as if she only cares when she does, and it so happens that she never looks upon the garden empty.

What was that funny thing Nanny and Brother Francis had taught him? The thing that Nanny discouraged, to which Brother Francis promoted quite devoutly?

“Nanny, have you ever been married?”

Warlock knows what marriage is. After all, his parents are married, if you can call it that. They married, once, out of love. But it’s since faded. It’s more traditional, now. Out of convenience and a general apathy to trying again.

Nanny’s quick hand stills, blade edge flat against the cutting board. With her back turned to the young boy, he cannot make out her expression. He never can, what with her poised shades she wears pointedly upon her nose. But she speaks soon again.

“No,” she replies, simply.

Warlock considers this. “Do you ever want to be?”

Nanny, who had taken up the cutting again, pauses once more. She sets the knife against the board and tilts her chin towards Warlock. “Wherever have you learned such personal questions, dear?”

She’s not refusing to answer him. She never has. She just asks in true curiosity, and perhaps a slight avoidance. But Warlock’s eight, now, and he knows how to navigate her tricks.

“Where do you think?”

At that, she pauses, lips pursed with their consistent purple tint. The lipstick she wears, that faintly stains Warlock’s forehead when she kisses him goodnight and tucks him in after a bedtime story: often about a garden, or a bird that chirped too loudly, and was cast down to the ground by the other birds. One who became the kind bird of the grounds, and took in other reject birds that had fallen similarly.

She considers his answer a moment more, satisfied with the obvious influence she’s had on him. She turns back to the apple slices.

“Perhaps,” she answers.

There is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t mind, he’s grown up with Nanny at his side, and has become quite fond of the silence. It is where thoughts are made, she said once.

She finishes cutting the apples, and plates the sweet snack to serve to the boy. “What troubles you, dear? You seem awfully curious, all of the sudden.”

Not that she minds. Nanny never rejects curiosity.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nanny, it’s just—” he pauses, considers his next words and how to place them. “You look at Brother Francis a lot, and—”

Nanny interrupts him after an audible, suspicious gulp. “Who?”

He frowns, eyes boring into the back of her head. “You know Brother Francis.”

She seems quite comically nervous, like she’s pressed a wax-seal act over her true thoughts. “Oh, yes,” she decides, too much breath coming with her words. “The gardener.”

“You like him, Nanny.”

She turns, abruptly. “I most certainly do not!” Her voice comes out a tad shrill, though perhaps it’s just outrage and scandal.

Warlock narrows his eyes, perplexed. “But you look at him all of the time.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with- with love?” She struggles with the word.

The boy shrugs. “Mum and Dad don’t look at each other,” Warlock observes. “But Brother Francis looks for you, too.”

Nanny’s mouth, ready with a retort, or perhaps a counter-argument, flicks towards a different shape. One that might be, he does? Or perhaps Warlock is mistaken. She pauses, lips pursed again, and sets her teeth.

“I’m sure he does, love.”

The plate is set before him, and Warlock soon forgets his questions. He never asks Nanny again.

But he’s reminded of it when her eyes, barely visible in the light, flick towards the window into the dazzling garden.

Years later, Warlock is nearly sixteen, and has since let the thoughts from half his lifetime ago fade. They never die, just sort of… wait. Wait to be plucked again, notes of memory leaping from their tinny strings. Like a harp.

His mother takes him into town. Soho, where he has no interest in seeing, but his mother so desperately needs a new vinyl, a coffee, and though she never says it: a moment to get away from the house, or more specifically, her husband within it.

She agrees to let him wander. She trusts him, for all she hasn’t before. And perhaps, she says, the fresh, un-televised air could do him some good.

He’s only taken two steps out of the coffee shop, where his mother remains to await her tea, before he almost runs smack into two pedestrians, arm in arm. He takes a surprised jump back, tongue set with an angry scolding, when he gets a good look at them from behind.

“Nanny?”

They both freeze in unison, as if they both know the name, and the voice that has conjured it forth once more for the first time in five years. Warlock notices something else.

“Brother Francis?” He prods, shocked. “Izzat you?”

Both of the two now turn, and everything around the three fades into blurring colors and churning noises.

Warlock would be a rotten liar if he had said he hadn’t missed them dearly. He would also be a lousy boy if he didn’t recognize them by the backs of their heads alone, he thinks. Because he would know them anywhere. They’d always done a much better job at raising him than his own parents.

They both look different now. Brother Francis seems to have had dental work done, and has cleaned up quite nicely. Nanny, though, appears to have changed her style completely. Her- his? Their? Who knows. But she still sports a fine pair of shades upon the bridge of her nose.

The pair seem to stutter, splutter with a little awestruck surprise. It’s as if they’d never expected to see him again.

“Oh- Warlock,” Nanny Ashtoreth begins, feigning a cool-headed surprise. “How good to see you.”

She sounds different too. Less of a high strain on her voice, more natural.

But Warlock seems to finally feel a gear shift, and a puzzle piece clicks into place. He glances down to the space between the two, where their arms are linked.

In his dumbfounded state, he feels a smile split the trance.

They both see it at the same time, chins tilting to follow his gaze. When they catch where his eyes are, their stares mingle together in concern. It’s a look that wonders aloud whether or not they should be worried, or blatant.

Warlock looks back up to their faces. “I see now why you two left,” he adds, grinning wider.

He can’t help it. He was right all along.

Warlock remembers something, then. It takes all of his power not to burst out into a triumphant laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” he says, slyly.

Nanny’s eyes, illuminated from behind with daylight, widen. She remembers, too. Of course she does.

And she bites back a twinning smile.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #ineffable idiots #warlock good omens #crowley good omens #aziraphale good omens #nanny ashtoreth #brother francis #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #fic #ficlet #author #ao3 #good omens fan fiction

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thethingswedotomorrow · 6 months

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I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

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levitiquee · 5 months

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“Daaa-ddy.”

Levi startles, looking up. The little girl stood before him, all wide eyes and beaming at him.

“Yes? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She shrugs, then thrusts out a hair brush and a set of scrunchies. “Do my hair today!” She grins.

Levi is taken aback slightly, not at all expecting such a request. It’s not that he had a bad relationship with his daughter really, if anything Levi spends every second that he can spare with her. But even so, it was so sudden and specific, not to mention she has never asked him to do it before. It was you who helped her get ready.

“Doesn’t mommy usually do that?” He asks slowly. “Is she busy?”

She shakes her head quickly. “I just want you to do it today.” She smiles, holding the brush out to him, waiting for him to take it.

Levi glances at it then looks back up. How could he say no to that?

So, without a word, he motions her to turn around which she follows happily, pulling a stool nearby to sit between Levi’s legs. Levi takes the brush, though slightly hard to hold without his missing fingers, he manages, combing through the black silky strands.

Like his.

Though, his own hair was stranded with gray now, a sign of the long years he had lived. Even Ackermans don’t stay young forever.

But it’s still so strange to him, having her here, right in front of him. He still freezes a little when she smiles at him, watching her with awe. She looked almost exactly identical to him, starting from the shape of her face to the color of her eyes, just the exact shade of the silvery blue that his own eyes hold. But there was a brightness in those eyes that Levi doesn't think he ever had. She was like this little ball of sunshine, always so bright.

And her smile, that came from you.

She was his. Yours. Theirs.

A part of him and a part of you. A whole other human being. A child. A blessing.

It was the hardest at thr beginning. For him to get used to it. Despite the 9 months of pregnancy, it was when he first held her that the realization finally hit him. That she was his daughter. His.

And the moment his eyes locked with the newborn, he knew he was doomed.

That there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this small, small, absolutely tiny person that came to earth no more than half an hour ago. That he had just met.

It was crazy how it only took him only a moment for him to swear his life for her, to become so protective. It was actually ridiculous, how he felt anxious even when it was the nurses holding her, he’d been so rigid, so poised. Even when handing her over to someone else’s arms, he had his hand outstretched because just in case. It took a shit load of convincing from you for him to let Jean and Connie hold her.

It was crazier watching her grow up. Never had he felt this ridiculous amount of pure joy and excitement ever. Only to hear her first words, to watch her take her first steps, holding his hand. He swears it was only yesterday.

His chain of thought was cut off as she started to happily chatter about things. Unlike Levi, she talks. A lot. Levi doesn’t mind, he listens quietly. Every once in a while, inserting a comment.

“I’ve read about you. In the history books. Our teacher taught us.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles, brushing softly. “What’d you learn?”

“They called you humanity’s strongest.” She stumbles on the word a little, which was a bit heavy for her usual vocabulary. She turns around to look at him with awe and wonder, wide eyes asking for confirmation. “That’s so cool!”

He only lets out a small hum in response.

"Will I be as strong as you one day?"

"Sure. You already are." He hopes she never needs to be.

“I saw your picture too. And mommy’s. Also, Uncle Connie used to be bald back then.” She finishes with a giggle, the idea of Connie’s lack of hair amusing her. “You were like a superhero, weren’t you daddy?”

“I wouldn’t shoot that far.” He answers with a small smile.

Back then, Levi had never imagined the idea of having a family. There, caged between the walls, surrounded by those tremendous monsters. When there was no guarantee that you’d come back alive once you’re out there. How could he even think of bringing a child to the world, if he couldn’t even do the least that is to promise their safety?

But now, here she runs and plays outside, without a worry in the world, tirelessly. She doesn’t have to starve like Levi had to, she grows up with only all the good the world has to offer. She doesn’t know the worst of how things could be and Levi hopes she never does. She doesn’t yet understand the role Levi and you had played in creating this world, but she does understand the value of it. She asks questions sometimes, about the wheelchair and the eye and the hand. About your scars and why somedays you can't get yourself from bed. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to answer. And Levi knows, one day, he’ll have to tell her all of it, life back then and the life he had. But for now, he prays, let her grow up with only love and pureness. Let her see the world in her rose colored glasses. Something he never got to do.

She taps Levi’s leg as he bunches the hair to tie a ponytail. “Do braids.” She says.

“Braids? Don’t you always wear a ponytail?” Levi asks.

“Yes, but,” She tries to explain, stumbling for words. “Tash always pulls by it.”

Tash was one of her classmates, Levi knew from her frustrated rants about him. From what he could gather, neither liked each other much. “Next time he bothers you, you do the thing that I taught you.” He tells her.

“The thing with my hands?” She asked brightly, balling her hands to show him.

“Hey, no beating up kids at school. Levi!” You appear in the doorway, only catching the last bit of the conversation. “Don’t give her ideas. And you,” You look at your daughter who was smiling smugly. “I’ve been looking for you–wait, is Levi doing your hair?” You say, finally noticing and very surprised.

‘Yes!” She replies excitedly, “He’s doing braids! He’s very slow though.”

Levi playfully pats her head. “It’s because you keep moving.” He sighs. “Must you need braids? I’m not sure if I can–”

“Yes.”

Levi was about to say something else until she turned around, giving him the most adorable pout ever, eyes all round and needy, her brows pinched together. “Please?” She asks sweetly.

Well damn.

Levi tries, he really tries. But the word no somehow managed to disappear from his vocabulary, along with all of its synonyms. So he sighs, nodding.

“Levi, I can–” You start.

“It’s okay.” He puts up a hand, stopping you. He doesn’t know much about the process, but he’s spent enough time watching you do her hair. So he thinks he can manage it. “I can do it. Probably.” He says uncertainty.

It was slightly difficult to manage multiple sections of hair when you’re missing two fingers, but even surprising himself, he does manage it, after a few attempts. A little uneven, but works.

"Happy?" He asks her, patting her head.

It was good enough for the girl, who jumped up right after it was finished and cheered happily as an answer to Levi. She jumps to his arms, pulling him by the neck to plant a big smooch in his cheek.

“You're the best.” She beams at him, then running off to grab her bag which was by the door.

“Wow, mommy’s nonexistent now?” You fold your arms in mock offense.

She doesn’t answer, only picks up her bag and runs to hug you full speed, wrapping herself around your knees. “I love you.” She calls out, then turns to Levi. “And I love you too! I'm leaving now!”

Then she was out the door before you could say I love you back.

“Don’t run, you’ll fall.” Levi calls out to her, who was already far out of hearing range.

You closed the door. Then leaned against it, staring at Levi.

Levi looked away, cheeks heating up slightly, noticing the strange way you were staring at him, already knowing what comes after.

“So.” You said.

“So, what?” He said, glancing at you.

“Where'd you learn how to do braids?"

He huffs. "From you. I watched you do it.''

"Really?' It was so cute you could melt.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He grunts. “She’s my girl. I can do her hair sometimes, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“So, I’m not your girl?” You pout, exactly the same expression your daughter made just moments ago. “How come I don't I get braids?”

“I–” Levi starts, then huffing frustratedly. He can’t even say no to his daughter, who was he to say no to the mother? He tries nevertheless.

“I’m not doing it. Stop looking at me like that.”

You did not look away, pouting out your lips more.

“I won’t.”

You blinked, turning your expression sadder.

Levi gives up.

“C’mere.” He sighs.

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inkdragon1900 · 3 months

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The way each pov in the locked tomb series is from the view point of an unreliable narrator drives me crazy in the best way.

Gideon is an unreliable narrator because it’s so dependent on her first impression of a person. For instance Ianthe, Coronabeth, Palamedes and Camilla compared to everything we learn later. Even her viewing of Harrowhark feels so jarring compared to Harrow’s view of herself in htn. She also knows very little about necromancy so everything feels less like science and more like something out of her magazines.

Then we have Harrow. Who literally has gaslit herself and trying damn hard to gaslight the audience that the last book never happened. Everything is a lot less black and white compared to GTN but her shades of grey still feel muddy. her depression seeps through every interaction she has that by the time it switches back to Gideon’s pov I literally felt like I had whiplash.

in NTN we have the John chapters and Nona.

Nona for her part seems like she see’s everything in black and white but as we see her mentally mature instead of seeing just shades of grey she see’s everything in vivid color. She loves everyone the good and the bad. She’s an unreliable narrator in the sense that because she loves Cam, Pal, Phyrra and Corona in a black and white fashion in the beginning she does not acknowledge their flaws in their choices. It’s only when she’s emotionally matured that she can see everyone she loves for the three dimensional people they are.

John for his part is so unwilling to forgive that we see that it doesn’t stop at B.O.E or the trillionares it extends to the unwillingness to forgive himself for a situation that I genuinely think no one could have handled. He refuses to look at himself for what he is and what he was in that moment, a scared man with to much power. (Unlike the Lyctors who were quite on quote “playing with the reflection of stars in a puddle and thinking it’s space.” He’s thrown into space and rapid fire has to learn how to tread or die drowning.) He lies because he doesn’t want to appear insane or weak or horrible not realizing that by doing that he’s removing the sympathetic parts of himself. Like Mercy and Augustine said they most likely would have forgiven him if he had just told them he fucked up. His point of view is so similar to Gideons black and white thinking that it works so well contrasted with Nona’s pov.

I can’t freaking wait for Alecto

#the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #jod tlt #john gaius #nona the ninth

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