#Typical Mom's

[shaadiwish]

Whether our mothers get inspired by Bollywood moms or Bollywood mothers are characterised based on real life mothers.

[morganbritton132]

Oh geez this might be a double ask because my phone glitched out when I tried to send previously BUT just wanted to say that I love ur Steve has older siblings au

I also need to say that I shamelessly combined that au with ur post about Tommy knowing Steve the best. Just picturing Steve’s sibs zoning out when his mom lists what he can’t eat because they assume she’s just being difficult. Flash forward a few years and they accidentally poison Steve with like peanut butter cookies and are realllly lucky that Tommy was staying over that weekend and knows he’s allergic.

anyways thx for all ur writing!

I only got this ask once so we’re good! The Steve Has Older Siblings AU has kinda been on hold for a bit because Dustin is either the easiest or the hardest character to write and right now, he’s being difficult for me.

BUT! I love this.

I’m going to change it around a bit because I’m on this kick right now where Steve is allergic to aspirin. Also, with the way that Steve’s mom is written for this AU, she is negligent but protective of her son. I don’t think she’d allow peanut butter in the house if Steve was allergic.

She wouldn’t allow aspirin either but Richard insists that it’s the only thing that cures a migraine (hangover), and Steve’s eight. He doesn’t even like taking his Flintstone vitamins so she’s not concerned about him getting in the medicine cabinet.

It’s not common that Tommy stays over at Steve’s when they’re sick.

Typically his mom watches them at their house but she had to go wake up his grandma (“That doesn’t make any sense. Why can’t she set an alarm clock?”/”I dunno, Steve. That’s what Mommy said. She had to go to Granny’s wake.”) so Mrs. Harrington was babysitting them.

Mrs. Harrington isn’t very good at taking care of them. Tommy wouldn’t tell Steve that because it’ll make him sad, but his mom kinda sucks at this. She doesn’t even give them popsicles for their sore throats or kiss their foreheads to check their temperature. She just disappears for long periods of time to yell into the phone.

Tommy’s kinda happy when she has to go into the office because he thinks Claire might look after them, but she’s apparently studying in her room so Steve’s brothers are doing it.

Tommy secretly likes this better because Jason and Richie are very nice to him, and they tell him that he’s cooler than Steve. No one has ever said that before! Not even Carol and they got married under the jungle gym.

Tommy likes hanging out with them even if he feels icky today.

He is standing in the kitchen next to Steve, watching Richie cut a little orange pill in half with a knife. Richie keeps muttering under his breath about running out of the ‘liquid S H I T.’ Tommy thinks it’s funny that he said a bad word, but can’t laugh about it because he can see the bottle that the pill came out of and –

“I don’t think we take that,” He voices but Richie brushes him off. He says it’s like candy. Tommy has brothers too, so he knows that sometimes you gotta give in or they’ll rub your face into the carpet until you get rugburn, but, “I know but… but what if only I take it?”

“You take half,” Richie tells him. “Stevie over here takes the other half and then we’re right as rain. It reduces fever.”

“Yeah,” Jason adds from behind them. “So your brain doesn’t leak out your ears.”

Tommy looks over at Steve but he isn’t fully awake so there’s not much of a reaction there. Plus, he’s not a very good reader so Tommy’s not sure if he even knows what the bottle says. He tries again, ignoring Jason, “That’s not what Mrs. Harrington gave us earlier.”

“Yeah, I know. This is better.”

“Steve can’t take that,” Tommy tries again after he crunches the medicine between his teeth. He sticks out his tongue so Richie can see that it’s gone, and then adds, “Mommy gave that to him once and it made him really sick.”

“It did?” Steve croaks, snatching his hand back when Richie tries to hand him the pill. Richie tries to force the pill into his mouth but Steve presses his lips together. It makes his brother swear and gesture to Jason, and then Steve is snatched off his feet with a hand pinching his nose shut.

He struggles and Tommy wants to help but he – he also wants Richie and Jason to like him so, he doesn’t help. Steve gasps for breath and the pill goes in…and Steve is fine. He’s angry and out of breath, and his nose is still stuffy so he still kinda sounds like a frog but he’s not.. he’s not blue like last time.

Tommy thinks, oh. He thinks, cool.

Everything is fine for fifteen minutes and then Tommy is yelling out the door of Steve’s bedroom that they need help. Steve is breathing weird and – “and, I – I think he’s going to die!”

A lot of stuff happens at once. Claire leaves her room, Jason and Richie come up the stairs, and they all start yelling and blaming each other. No one really jumps into action until Tommy bursts into tears. Then it’s movement and car rides, and Tommy is sitting in the waiting room at the hospital without shoes on.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there when Mr. and Mrs. Harrington rush into the room. The only thing he does know is that he’s never seen anybody look as angry as Mrs. Harrington did when she sees them.

She looks like she’s going to yell at them but Mr. Harrington grabs her by the arm and drags her to the reception desk. They disappear behind the white double doors that Steve went through.

It only makes Tommy cry harder.

[anonomi]

I love spy/scout's mother unironically. TF2 takes stereotypes and subverts them, so instead of a globetrotting, international super spy who treats women as disposable as his cigarettes and his latest hot babe who shows up to flash her tits, it's actually a renowned spy falling for this diligent and motherly lady who just gets him. And they didn't need to show her being strong and independent and pushing Spy around to show how she's not just another girl, nor did they need to show him falling all over for her and crawling on his hands and knees. She is completely fine in her motherly way and he is completely fine in his gentlemannly way.

Neither of them are adjusted to be weaker than the other to show off how cool the other is. They are not horribly twisted from who they are. They are respected and comfortable in their roles and characters. All they had to do was make Spy pick out the picture of him holding her hand. Because it just says everything.

[crow-quet]

appledash?

i know i havent been giving the other ones names but between the talent idea i had and the fact it was RIGHT THERE .... i couldnt help myself HAHA

[sirtotallynotatimetraveler]

Wanted to make my rendition of woman Peppino (aka Peppina). I call her Peppana.

first concept sketch of her :)

[sonknuxadow]

this is probably an unpopular opinion with the amount of "everyone is married with kids" type future aus people make for sonic characters but i cannot see sonic getting married or having a kid ever. if he did somehow end up with a kid hed be the worlds first transmasc absent father or however the joke goes

[luluy33art]

Thinking of Guardian! Chloe AU, I tried to figure out what the relationship between G!Chloe and makeup would be like. Canon Chloe would definitely be one of those girls who started wearing makeup at a very young age either because of her position/reputation or the influence of people around her.

But without that, I still think G!Chloe would be interested in makeup just because it looked so good on women (Ik what u are)

So she asks Grandpa Fu to buy her some, but Fu was like "Aren't you a little young for that?" and he doesn't buy any. The next day he surprises Chloe at 7am with her lips and face badly painted and a green marker in her hand.

He had to take his 5-year-old granddaughter with ink poisoning to the hospital.

At least it wasn't serious.

[explosionshark]

For the 3 words + character/pairing ask:

Blood

Past

Bronze

For one Faith Lehane :D

oh my god, i missed you, bud! thanks for the prompt. i apologize in advance for making this one SUCH a bummer.

set during s07e19 - "Empty Places" (if this piece has a theme song it's "Bloodied Up" by Alkaline Trio)

-

“Hey, what about the vineyard?”

Faith knows she shouldn’t have said it, knows that even before she’s finished speaking, not that it makes any difference. Not that knowing she’s fucking things up worse has ever exactly stopped Faith from taking a situation from bad to fucking irretrievable before, especially where Buffy’s concerned but, fuck, she’d been trying to be better.

It’s just that Buffy has always been able to get under her skin the way no one else could, especially when she’s doing this. That self righteous, condescending scolding thing she does, like Faith’s the biggest loser on the planet, like the worst thing about Buffy’s life isn’t the looming apocalypse or the monsters trying to kill the herd of teen girls they’d amassed, but trying to talk to Faith. 

Buffy stops and turns to face her again. “What?” her voice is quiet, cold. There’s an edge to it, sharp, familiar — a warning. 

But Faith’s in this deep already. And maybe she’s a dumbass for trying to talk about this when Buffy’s already pissed, but, fuck, Faith thinks she’s right this time. For once, out of the two of them, it’s Buffy who’s blowing it, at least as far as the potentials are concerned. Buffy’s always been the one with friends, a boyfriend, a family that talks to her — she’s the one that knows how to be with people, to make them love her.

So why is it that now she’s icing these girls out, when they need her, need someone to make them feel like the fight they’re in is worth it? Why is Faith the one learning their names, taking them out, listening to their worries and wishes and idle chatter while Buffy withdraws and shuts them down and pushes everyone away?

So, yeah. Fuck it. Faith’s going to do this. It’d probably be better for them both if she just kept her trap shut, but she’s learned a thing or two about tough love in the last few years. Maybe it’s time for her to dish it out herself.

“How safe were they when you dragged them off to meet Caleb?” Faith pushes. Something in Buffy’s expression shutters, face going blank in a way that opens a sinkhole in Faith’s gut. But she doesn’t stop. “How safe was Rona, or Amanda, or Molly?”

Faith knows that Buffy’s going to hit her. She can tell when Buffy takes her first step closer, is dead certain by the second step. It’s a telegraphed hit, too — big windup, so B can put her shoulder into it. Faith sees it and she doesn’t move. A feeling flashes through her, quick and electric like lightning — it’s sick dread, it’s guilt, it’s anger and it’s something else, something familiar in the worst way.

Maybe it’s the Slayer, maybe it’s something wrong deep inside Faith in particular, but she sees Buffy’s rage crack the cold facade she’s thrown up between them and she welcomes it. She sees what’s coming and she lets it happen. She hopes that it will hurt.

And it does.

It’s the second time in as many days that Buffy’s hit her. The first time wasn’t so bad. Almost a lovetap — oh, it hurt like a son of a bitch, and it left her flush with humiliation. That’s what it was meant to do — put Faith in her place, especially in front of Buffy’s latest boy toy. The sucker-punch in the graveyard was straightforward enough. Faith didn’t take it to heart — she owed Buffy that one. More, actually.

But this feels different. Not only because Buffy hit her harder this time, not only because there’s no audience to show off for this time. No, this time it’s worse because it’s the first time Buffy’s ever hit her when Faith hasn’t deserved it.

Maybe for all the stuff in the past between them.

But Buffy didn’t hit her for any of that. Buffy hit her because Faith was calling her out, because she didn’t want to hear that she was being a hypocrite, maybe because she didn’t believe Faith had a right to tell her jack shit.

Mostly, because she wanted Faith to shut the fuck up.

Faith goes with it, one knee slamming to the asphalt hard before she manages to catch herself, both palms to the pavement. Her cheek is singing in pain, blood rushing through her ears so loud she almost can’t hear the swish of Buffy’s coat, the sound of her retreating footsteps.

She’s not sure if it’s better or worse that Buffy takes off so fast. Part of her wishes she could have seen Buffy’s face, to know if she was sorry. The rest of Faith is too scared to think she might not have been.

Slowly, she twists, kneeling and pressing her knuckles to the bruise she can already feel blooming under her skin. The skin is hot, her cheekbone aching and throbbing beneath her fingers as she moves to gently probe it, but there’s nothing broken. 

All that buzzing, self righteous anger has flooded out of her, replaced with that old, lonely cored out feeling that Faith knows all too well. She closes her eyes, lets the blood from her re-opened split lip pool at her gum line, breathes in the scent of garbage and spilled drinks from the Bronze alleyway and fuck, she could be fifteen years ago — that filthy apartment, the sting in her cheek from a slap she’d earned from her ma because she couldn’t just shut the fuck up when she needed to.

Did this to your damn self, she thinks bitterly, gritting her teeth in rage and disgust at the feeling of tears welling up behind her eyes. 

She’s always doing this to herself.

Faith sniffs hard and shakes her head, biting down on the broken skin of her lip until the pain cuts through the sorry feeling swelling up in her chest. She blinks back those stupid, useless tears, pushes herself to standing.

Alone in the alley, Faith pauses. She wonders for a moment if she’s welcome back at Buffy’s house, after this. Then it occurs to her that it doesn’t matter all that much how welcome shes is — there’s nowhere else for her to go. There’s no other slayers for Buffy to turn to. They’re stuck with each other.

Faith lets out a deep breath, brushing her fingers over her cheek one more time before she tilts her head to spit a mouthful of blood onto the pavement. Then she starts walking home.

[wigglebox]

💚💙

[charmwasjess]

Okay I'm doing this week's Mines Monday NOW because it's election week and my anxiety is crazy and I need a distraction:

Sifo & Lene

I love Lene Kostana as a character. She's fascinating to me; I change my mind about her almost weekly. I feel like I've run through every take on her from Lene critical to Lene positive and hardly scratched the surface. She's a gorgeous walking contradiction, and in that way, I think one of the more realistic and interesting characters. I think at the end of the day, her devotion to Sifo-Dyas and their partnership extending past the typical Master Padawan years into his adult life is fascinating. I haven't been able to shake the belief that Sifo-Dyas views her as a purely good, completely uncomplicated net positive in his life, and that he would argue with me vehemently over any of my "should she really have brought a teenager into that....?" takes.

I know this is looking back at evolving headcanons and older fic, but I really can't wait to do more with them, since Master and Padawan stories are my favorite thing to write.

Anyway, here's a part I wrote last year (and ended up cutting) from Five Days to Murder Sifo-Dyas - Sifo-Dyas reflecting back on his sex ed with the Arcane and Unflappable Lene:

Thinking back, really, Lene had been wonderful, even if at the time, Sifo-Dyas definitely felt like melting into the floor. 

She’d sat him down for A Talk after what he’d considered a very sly and subtle series of experimentations with an eager peer. Far from being angry or shaming though, Master Kostana had plainly explained the finer points of consent and communication. She presented him with a box of protective sheaths, gave him instructions for their use, and asked if he had any questions. 

“I think I might like men?” Sifo-Dyas had ultimately blurted out, his heart feeling very much in danger of spilling out of his mouth and shattering on the floor. 

“Good,” she’d pronounced in that crisp, unsurprised way of hers. She tapped the box with a long finger. “Make sure he wears one of these too.” 

[tallgh0st]

[creations-by-chaosfay]

This is for anyone and everyone who sews, but most especially quilters.

PLEASE REBLOG!!!

[true-blue-sonic]

15. Espilver

15. …passionately.

At the uncountable next time the house is rattling on its foundation from a two-minute torrent of rain, Espio decides he might as well get up and just leave bed.

“Darn it,” the chameleon mutters, rubbing his face. Had he thought it was already just before the hour to rise and shine with how often he’d half-woken up and dozed off again, caving and sending a glance at the alarm clock had shown him it is hardly four A.M. instead. Not exactly how one acquires a decent night of sleep to be well-rested in the morning…

Though, another matter of intrigue had caught his attention. Namely, how cold his bed is: where usually soft grey fur and loving little coos fill his arms and ears when reaching out for cuddles, now one eye had shot open most disturbed instead by the lack of both; a lack of Silver, as a whole. That in itself is not exactly strange, for Silver’s sleep schedule is incomprehensible to anyone except the hedgehog, but it does mean that all attempts for Espio to fall back to sleep again suddenly have found themselves a dozen-fold more difficult.

Grumbling under his breath as he peeks out the window Espio concedes the neighbours all have their lights on. Not that he can blame them: the wind howls and the rain batters against the window and he can even see a strike of thunder, all the way in the distance, though the world outside is loud enough the accompanying rumble stays out. He might as well cease the fighting and go downstairs as well, with tea to calm him and patience to wait the storm out. A look into Charmy’s bedroom as he pads into the hallway shows it empty; a look into Vector’s reveals a whole bunch of snoring that out-volumes the rain enough for Charmy to have fallen asleep again on top of the crocodile’s chest. Cute, Espio smiles to himself. He can always join his colleagues if all else fails.

But first he’ll go find Silver.

“Tenshi,” the chameleon whispers. There’s no way Silver went outside- that is, Espio hopes. That makes downstairs the most likely place for his psychic, the attic’s hatch firmly closed and their bathroom empty as well. He can forfeit sneaking down the stairs; the rain rages against the rooftop and the outer walls with enough force everything is drowned out, even Vector’s usually-audible snoring in the hallway. “Silver?” Espio adds once he’s safely snuck into the living room, which is empty as well. Though, the light in the kitchen shines past the creak in the door, the chameleon swiftly making his way over and giving it a gentle knock before pushing it open further…

“Oh! Hey, Espio,” his beloved coos back at him.

Amidst a whole collection of… baking trays and pans?

“…What are you doing,” Espio inquires, an eyebrow raised most promptly. Quark and a gelatine package and butter lay scattered over their counters, around a giant bowl with the strawberries Silver went to the market for yesterday. Which can only mean one thing: the hedgehog is baking something.

At four am in the morning.

A yawn is his response, Silver’s weight flopping into Espio’s arms all snugly when the latter scoots in for a hug. “Can’t sleep. So I started making a cake” Espio gets told, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world to be doing when the sun isn't yet up for hours, and the chameleon laughs before he can even help it.

“Tenshi, it’s four A.M.,” he brings up, grabbing a knife to cut up the final few strawberries as well. “And I bought that quark to eat it for breakfast.”

“You will. In a cake.” With the absolute incorrigibleness of someone who knows he can do no wrong for Espio and who will abuse that fact Silver grabs the quark in question, throwing it together with the strawberries in one fell swoop. With gentle motions Espio helps him stir, psychokinesis easily throwing the batter onto the crust of cookie crumbles waiting for them next. “And now it’s gotta wait and stiffen up,” the hedgehog adds, carefully pushing it into the fridge and throwing the door shut.

Espio’s wrapped him in an embrace nary a second later.

“Good,” the chameleon murmurs, leaning in over Silver’s shoulder. “Then I finally have you for myself.”

Oozing into his arms Silver snuggles close. “Heh. The storm’s really loud out.”

“I know. It woke me up, too.” Gently Espio strokes the other’s head, eyes shutting contently as Silver purrs in his arms. He can hear the noises even as the storm outside rages and howls, a warm smile forming on his face. “We should go back to bed,” he brings up next. The morning looms, with all its responsibilities and the never-ending repairs they will have to put the house through after suffering this abuse.

But he doesn’t. And Silver doesn’t, either. Instead Espio manoeuvres his beloved around most carefully to squish tan cheeks between his hands and press the most passionate, most desiring and loving and yearning kisses against Silver’s lips. A hum of surprise is his response; and then Silver pulls him even closer, the duo gasping for breath once they finally pull away.

With a chuckle Silver gives Espio’s own muzzle a little nibble. “What was that for?”

“Because you wake up in the middle of the night and decide to start making a cake of all things.”

“Of course! Why not, if I’m awake already?” the most earnest response comes.

Espio laughs, pulling the other even closer. “That’s what I mean.”

“Sure,” Silver shrugs back at him, tucking his head underneath Espio’s chin as the chameleon picks him up to carry him to their couch and wrap them both in a blanket. That’s how they stay until the torrents of rain have grown quieter and with longer pauses between them, until finally the pale light of daybreak begins to filter through the curtains. Between it all Espio strokes Silver’s head and massages behind his ears, the other oozing like the most comfortable pillow in a half-asleep daze until the chameleon decides they might as well go eat Silver’s quark cake for breakfast.

And it is the most delicious thing Silver has ever baked before.

“Because it was made at four A.M.,” the hedgehog concedes before zonking right out against Espio’s side, and Espio couldn’t agree more.

[kishimotomasashi]

This is so cute actually + I think this is the first time I've seen Fugaku in casual clothing

[reneethegreatandpowerful]

Cozytober Day 4- The slight smell of smoke in the air

[notsocooljess]

Happy WIP Wednesday!

thanks for the tag @thelettersfromnoone! 🎅🏼

please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

last one before christmas! here’s a snippet of my everlark christmas drabble (that is of course much longer than i intended)🎄

“So remind me of our menu tonight?”

Peeta went on to describe the feast he had planned, which Katniss was already familiar with since she had helped gather much of the items. Roasted duck, brussel sprouts, mashed potatoes. Cheese buns and spinach pastries. Too many types of cookies and apple pie. Normally, Katniss’s mouth would be watering just from the conversation. Currently, the only thing that sounded appetizing was the cheese buns.

“Well if we’re gonna feed the town tonight, shouldn’t we get started?” Katniss asked.

“Soon, but not yet,” Peeta responded.

tagging: @atelierlili & @littlemarianah 🎁