#he grew up so fast

[overthattwilight]

Look how Luke grew up

[elystelleven]

Happy International Pure Vanilla Day everyone! Can't believe he's now two thousand and five hundred three years old (4/8 or 4/7, depending on your time zone)

[theromanticrationalist]

This will now become a Young Sheldon reaction and meltdown safe space as the seventh and final season of the show premiere’s next week. You have been warned. May the fun and tears commence! *slams gavel*

[ask-directorsada-and-friends]

Oh! You're son! He's all grown up and precious! What does he want to do after schooling? (@ask-the-very-real-human-turo

"Arven? Well, he has mentioned possibly going into cooking. Being in the humanities track, he's been attracting attention for his skill and gift with cooking. Saguero has mentioned that Kofu seems to be showing interest in him the last time he stopped by the Academy. But Arven's also mentioned that he wants to discover ways to help people and Pokemon feel better through food while also using Herba Mystica, and has been asking about gardening." She smiles, looking at a picture of her son as a child playing with Maschiff. "Whatever he chooses, I'll be proud of him."

[schumi-nadal]

Franco Colapinto | Singapore Grand Prix 2024 🇸🇬

Exhausting race 🥵

🎥 : Williams Racing

[lemonberry-soda]

Do you ever think about the fact that Ted is hypersexual due to his childhood/teenage traumas or is that just me?

Like not only did he associate losing his first love forever with not being douchebaggy enough, but he also experienced the Lumber Axe and survived. With how quickly Peter was about to be murdered for looking at Ted’s old magazine you KNOW Ted probably had to deal with narrow escape after narrow escape himself. Ted literally suppresses the memory of the Lumber Axe entirely until bringing Peter to camp reminds him, and he doesn’t even take Peter with him as he runs away. He is FUcked up.

My guy went for the cat lady who cut off his fingers because sex is inherently dangerous to him in his mind. He goes for the worst options on purpose because sex isn’t safe unless there’s risk, and he goes for the best options just to lose them on purpose so they don't leave him first, as many times as possible until he's single and lonely at the wedding reception. He’s a sleazeball as a coping mechanism, and he keeps dying for it. One single safe relationship would decimate this dude, and it also wouldn’t fix him. Therapy would do wonders if he actually accepted how messed up he is. And tbh, if TInky wasn’t around there might’ve been a chance for him to recover.

Anyway another reason this dweeb is doomed by the narrative and fucked up beyond belief

[tornado1992]

The grief Sonic must’ve felt the first time he saw the yellow spots appearing in baby Tails’ brown fur.

Like, “hey, the kid is growing up”, but “oh, my kid is growing up”

[sunshinetomioka]

having fun for pride by drawing my favourite queer Robin !!

some close-ups

I wanted to make Jason a mix of his more regular design (with the hairtyle) while putting what I liked about his design in Gotham Knights, I like when he looks all bulky and has lots of scars <333 Also I think Jason is pansexual but never really understood it until recently ! And I'm a firm believer of Trans Tim (but if i listened to myself i'd make everyone trans so-)

[professional-termite]

Draw something you want to draw

ive been rotating a tng modern au in my head for a few days now. look at my sillies. look at em 🗣🗣

also i made lore gnc because uhh i think he would be if given the opportunity

[azurajae]

Happy 1-Year Anniversary, to one of my favorite games ever !🎉🎉

I can't believe Chai is one year old already😭

[twitter]

[canichangemyblogname]

911 fans do understand that someone doesn’t need to be devout to still be Catholic, right? They don’t have to be actively practicing or a staunch practitioner to still be a believer and, crucially, culturally Catholic, something which will influence their lived reality and worldview.

Sure, Eddie Diaz has been far from the most devout Catholic and he has frequently been portrayed as the least likely member of the 118 to believe in the supernatural. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in God or honor the Saints or practice casually. Nor does it make Catholicism any less influential in his life. He might be the type of guy who’s a “Chreaster” (Christmas + Easter Christian; a.k.a. A “submarine Christian), but that doesn’t mean Catholicism is any less influential on his upbringing, lived reality, or worldview. In fact, it has deeply impacted how he views his place in the world as a man and even how he views other people’s place in the world relative to him as a man.

More on this below:

Cultural Catholicism— specifically Mexican Catholicism— is why Eddie hallucinated his former girlfriend as THEE Madonna. But not just any Virgin Mary, she looked to him like Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe del Tepeyac. The Catholic influence on his upbringing has had a large impact on how he views manhood, womanhood, and the relationship between the two. This Catholic influence, combined with the influences of the patriarchy in Mexican culture, like machismo, has led him to view women in the role of carer instead of partner. It’s why he seems to “use” his girlfriends as glorified babysitters. It’s why it seems he’s been looking for a woman to simply “take the place” as Chris’ “new mom,” instead of find someone he enjoys life with. It’s part of why he has a hard time getting it up or keeping it up when he’s in a loving and respectful relationship with a woman. It’s part of why he could only fuck around with Shannon when she wasn’t filling the role of “mother” for Chris, but once he let her back into Chris’ life, she ceased to be his wife and then became “the mother of my son” (see: the beach scene). He keeps falling into the trap of sorting women into either the Madonna archetype or the Whore archetype, yet people aren’t really talking about WHO he views as the Madonna, HOW he views the Madonna, or fucking WHY.

As @/talktonytome mentioned, it is the cultural influences in his life and the absence of his father that have taught him what “being a man” means. He was expected to assume the role of “provider” from a young age. He was forced to grow up fast, literally parentified by his paterfamilias. His own father told him that he had to assume the role of the “man of the family” as a child, and yet would continue to exert an incredible degree of influence and control over Eddie’s life course and decisions, as Eddie, Shannon, and Chris were completely financially dependent on Eddie’s parents (and dependent on them for child care). This dependency fostered an hostile and toxic dynamic. On top of this, he was literally just a kid when he got his girlfriend—who was also just a kid—pregnant. He believed that he and Shannon *had* to make it work for their kid and that they both *had* to “step-up” and “do it right” by getting married, despite literally being teens. There are reasons why babies should never feel pressured to or be forced to have a baby.

Because of his father, Eddie comes to believe that a “real man” devotes his all to his wife and kid, never abandoning them and always providing for them, unlike his own father. Which is why Eddie has spent every waking moment since moving to LA trying to make up for a life choice that he truly believes meant he abandoned his family: joining, and then reenlisting, in the army. “I ran out first. I ran out on both of them. … Instead of going back home, I reenlisted. I told myself it was to pay the bills—” “But you were running away too.” “Yeah…” It was all overwhelming because he wasn’t ready, so he sought an escape. He felt trapped by his circumstances and his family and saw only one “legitimate” route out: joining the army. He was then forced to grow up more by the force-arm of the (equally authoritarian) masculinist state: the United States Military. And this institution would continue to reinforce aspects of machismo that he’d learned through his father. Showing fear, pain, or grief makes you weak. Turn off your instinct to cry, embrace stoicism, and push through with any weapon you’ve got; it’ll award you accommodation.

This is also why he has spent every day since Shannon died punishing himself. He believes he abandoned her. He believes he failed her. He wasn’t able to devote his all to her. He couldn’t provide and he couldn’t make it work. All of this makes him a failed man in his mind. A failed husband and a failed dad and a poor excuse of a man.

Cultural Catholicism was also part of the reason for the familial and societal pressure to marry that he experienced as a teen after getting his girlfriend pregnant. It does, in fact, contribute to the social pressure to be partnered. And not *just* partnered, married. Through the church. There actually *IS* a reason Eddie’s mind immediately jumped to “marriage” when Tía Pepa set him up on a blind date. There is genuine pressure in Latiné families not just to be partnered, but to get married. Tía Pepa ambushed him with a date because it “breaks [her] heart to see [him] alone” and she’s afraid of him being alone forever. And she told him this immediately after bringing up how Alicia is getting married soon, and how Rafael, Fernando, and Liliana are all having kids. She might say “¿Que marriage? Who said anything about marriage?” (immediately after bringing up marriage, mind you) or “Let me introduce you to—” or “You need to get back out there—” now, but it will be “When are you getting married?” and “When are you having kids?” later. Being alone is stigmatized. Not getting married is stigmatized. Having a kid out of wedlock is stigmatized. And the thing is? Your parents and family don’t even have to be devout practitioners themselves to still contribute to this social pressure. Hell, you don’t have to be a devout practitioner to still believe any of it. Like Eddie hasn’t been the most devout and yet the seal of St. Christopher still holds a great deal of meaning to him.

Eddie doesn’t know who he is outside of being a provider. He’s never had the opportunity to discover himself. He went from being a kid to being a husband and father over the course of nine months. He then quickly went from a military career to being a single father in a new city, finally under his own roof at the age of about 28+. He never went on a long meandering road trip across the US and several countries in a quest to “find himself.” He never went to college where he’d experience new friend groups and ideologies. He has been under the thumb of authority or expectation since he was a teen. He’s never been alone.

So, how does he now find himself when he can no longer be what he’s long defined himself by?

[everypanelofizuku]

Chapter 83 - Loss

[golden-stag]

I know I'm like, one game away from meeting him for real and I probably shouldn't be speculating on a character I don't know yet.

But I have been thinking about *Sin* recently... in terms of like, this kid has to be in near constant pain, right? It might be a little mitigated by him being part gear, but I can't imagine growing so fast wouldn't be excruciating... Especially since he'd be more human than gear (if that train of thought applies here-)

This kid is going through body horrors not previously conceived by my mind I'm gonna. Throw up on the carpet.

[kalak]

This little guy..

Became this little guy

Grew up to be this little guy!!

And then became this little guy!

[prettyflyshyguy]

They're siblings with a strained relationship. Heart Shaped Box is playing on the radio. There's discussions where the word 'freak' is being thrown around circumventing directly calling the person with you in the car, a freak.

Uh-Oh.

[revelisms]

Don't you want to be—

(what what what, darling?)

—mirror to some piece of this: moon-slash of his wretchedness, recklessness, fawning fingers pleasure-peaked sharp-tongued wickedness—

(why why why, darling?)

—hair slicked back and smile perfect.

His silks feel like death-robes, his pulpit a coffin, his congregation a stew of want and need. His own needs selfishly curtailed and forgotten. Drowned in skin sticky with sweat and voices biting nothingness in his ear: in his brother's cracked-open wines and the slam of his foot on the gas pedal, fueling life into an engine that screams, a vile communion with the hoarse shattering of his own.

At the cliffside, pomade wind-tussled from his hair, layered instead with salt-grime and smeared tears, he smokes.

His mother's own habit, sourly inherited.

The scent is nostalgic the way celluloid film loses its stain: bitter, half torn, stuffed in the pockets of his mind, nonetheless. The same brand of cheap woody tobacco he smells on her when he's close enough to lay his head on her shoulder.

Not that she offers.

Not that he asks.

The sun is dipping on the horizon: a blood-orange half-moon slurped down by a dead sea.

He ticks his thumb over the paper rolled between his knuckles. Watches the ash flutter like polluted snow to his feet. Through his lungs breathes a soldier's quiver, weighing him down like lead: sighs out black magic, white-eye light, the taste of empty pleasure on his tongue, a throat-trip of rusted ambrosia.

He looks not to the heavens—but to the red-soaked sea, below: to the black gate of Olde, the Beneath, the Beyond: wings of skin, not of feathers, beasts gray and fanged, and violet spellwork unspoken in his hands.

In thirteen months' time, the adopted darling will succeed him. The little copper-haired boy he still sees, sometimes, with both eyes that watery ocean-blue. The child his mother wrapped her arms around, without question. The heir his father, in spirit, will learn to accept—after he's carried out his head on a spit.

Him, the doomed Failure from the start.

Him, the one they've all watched and waited to fall.

He hears reason in the memory of Ghoul's—Omega's—his—otherworldly grumbling: that it is one path of countless.

A curse that this eye can see them, at all.

But he feels sureness in his bones, more than any sureness he's known before.

All their days are numbered.

(and yours?)

The stubbed end of a cigarette rolls between his fingers. Against the points of them: a purple spark. The paper folds upon itself, blackened and writhing: burns and burns in hellfire and ash.

A year, if he's lucky.

A smile twitches on his mouth: paintless and crooked.

And, oh—will he give them a show.

terzo, on premonitions / creator, brother, son