#there is some one piece but its not the big drawing i was working on before

[bitchslapblastoids]

Prompted by your post about dnp inviting audience interaction: it /is/ really brave, and so interesting! I haven't been watching them for long at all and one of the biggest things that just drew me in and deeply fascinated me about them is how so much of their work (not just on stage) is in some way a conversation/interaction with their audience and the more you watch the more you notice it. No wonder its easy to be parasocial about them and about the Phandom itself!

To me, at least, they seem to be the sort of performers/creators that need a relatively high level of audience interaction in order to be inspired or for their work to feel meaningful. Like, im absolutely sure they could also create things without this close relationship with their audience but it seems to be what their naturally drawn towards? Obviously the problem has been in maintaining boundaries within that but it seems like that's going better now than at some points in the past, which makes me really happy for everyone!

Sorry about the long yap, this is so interesting to me and I just needed to express it a little

yes!!! i love this!!! so beautifully worded! no need to apologize at all - i am in such hearty agreement and actually think about this so often. i think the engagement with their audience is their superpower, and it runs so deep. what was one of dan's favorite things about phil before he met him? phil's interactive adventure videos, in which he was creating an interactive experience for his viewers.

when they film pinof1 together, what are they doing? they're answering an audience-submitted q&a. the audience interaction is literally baked into their foundation! <3

2010, dan's uni dorm. what's displayed behind him on his wall? art and letters sent to him by viewers. he films danmail vids where he opens and reacts to said art and letters and personally thanks the senders.

for years and years and years, what's at the end of every phil video? fanart! draw phil naked! (in retrospect literally so weird lol but shhh)

the ongoing avalanche of vyous and younows and tumblr reblogs/follows and responding to yt comments and retweets and and and. so much interaction. the videos directly engaging with twitter and tumblr creations. they see us, they know us, they get us.

their first book? included a double-page spread with dozens of pieces of phanart.

every single one of their tours has multiple essential audience interaction components, and even more brilliantly, with multiple different access points that are perfectly calibrated to their audience. too shy to speak up? send in a submission ahead of time. want to be a part of the masses? shout something out during the audience participation segments! and there's always the likelihood that they'll include fanart in the show itself, casually mention an actual actively popular fic, throw in an ancient phwedding manip, or just build whole segments of the show around our tropes and the world that we created with them. all of that keeps things exciting and engaging on stage, bc you never know exactly what's going to come next. but it also keeps their audience feeling seen, valued, and like co-creators in a way.

When you look at the other britcrew and big yters from the 2010s, they simply weren't generating that ongoing, authentic conversation with their audiences. their approach followed the simple format of: i post, you watch. and then it became: i post, you watch, then i try and sell you something while i call you my 'community' because you are all watching me and sometimes you talk to one another in the comments. but it's not like zalfie or joe and casper etc. were chiming in on the convos too, or at least not in any meaningful way. it wasn't a community in the same way.

dan and phil truly built community. i think communities require mutual exchange, communication, a sense of value and worth, commonly agreed upon truths, shared experiences, touchstones of connection, and leaders who have integrity. i know this is all starting to sound a little lofty, but i really do think dan and phil are good humans who have worked hard to wield their power and influence responsibly and compassionately. they set the tone for us, constructed this world, paid attention to what landed for us, how we responded to things, everything that we were up to in response to what they were up to. they listened. they made us feel seen and celebrated and appreciated, and in turn we continued to celebrate them. they created weird inside jokes, we adopted them, then we all shared the weird inside jokes. they existed, we created our own language and lore and encyclopedia in response, and now there's a whole stage show about it.

that's how you get people sticking around for 15 years. that's how you get people to actually want to spend money on you. and yeah, some more boundaries at times couldn't have hurt. they fostered a sense of proximity and entitlement that obviously put them in harm's way. but i'd say ultimately what they've manage to do has been a net good for them and a tremendous success.

you raised such a good point that it seems to be what they are naturally drawn towards. i think it's because they, too, were fangirls. phil was writing buffy fic. dan was running a lost wiki. they both understood the power of online fan community before they were the titans of their own. they get it, they get us <3

[ponett]

On the wiki gg slarpg wiki, there's a family portrait-esq piece of artwork on zinnia's page of her, verena and the boys. it doesn't have a source and i can not find it for the life of me. so i was curious if that was posted publicly or not.

I can't remember if I've ever posted it publicly, but that's really just because it spoils the game's ending. It's been shared in my Patreon Discord, and I think I gave my blessing to post it to the wiki? I've known it's there and I'm cool with it being there, so, y'know, either way it's fine.

I'll put the image in question and an explanation of its origins below the cut.

(Again, spoilers for the ending of SLARPG, like for real big ones.)

So at one point in 2021 I needed a chunk of change, and Anthony gave it to me in exchange for some artwork. One of the things he requested was Verena and the boys, because the boys were his personal pet characters for the game and I hadn't even drawn their battle artwork yet at that point, so he really wanted to see me draw them. He suggested I draw something set after the game's ending, "post-Javis," with the comment that Verena would basically end up as their mom. I added Zinnia because, well, duh. And then I did it in the style of like a shitty Walmart photo studio family portrait. Because I think that's funny.

And so this image was born

In hindsight I wish I'd given Verena and Zinnia rings in this, but I don't think I'd quite decided that they were married at that point. I was still working on the ending.

Fun fact: Killer Ray's in-game portrait is a crop of this drawing! Because his head and hard to draw and I didn't feel like drawing it again for the portrait lmao

[dylanisdazed]

ok hey im drunk heres some dreams i had last night

first of all, idk where this came from or even how it started but i need you to look up wire cutting clay.

ok did you google that or youtube that?

so...this authoritarian entity was taking people and they would draw a line down the forehead, down the bridge of the nose, then across the mouth and down the side of mouth to sort of create a puzzle piece of the face......

then this super sharp wire came down and sliced their heads 😐😮😟😲😲🤮🤢🤮🤕🤮🤢🤮🤢

it was so gross and scary. they said they did it in a way to keep most of the brain intact to keep people alive.....

and then i was renovating this big house by myself and i was telling my mom how scared i was about the slicing and she was like "Oh Dylie, don't be silly. Our money will keep us safe." 😂🤣 WHAT MONEY MOM? but also i felt better and continued renovating this huge house i had apparently. They also made children bungee jump from a 140 story building and it was designed to snap so it killed them.

Anyway

THEN, I was flown out to the desert, it was so beautiful it was like Colorado adjacent and there was all this orange terrain and pretty blue sky. It was a new company. It doesn't make sense but it was like this HUGE reservoir of QUALITY red wine but also water? So we had this really good red wine and could also bottle water but the bubbles made it toxic idk. Anyway, I was really concerned about it being toxic and selling it to people and they were like we produce 500 million gallons of wine a second, we will be SO rich and they wanted to hire me and I was conflicted but I was like okay well can we at least invest a lot of money into hiding the fact its toxic and also find a scapegoat if anyone finds out?

SO THEN

They hire me as Vice President, the owner Tori, LOVED me. She was like your so cute and you have great ideas. I told her I still felt conflicted so I needed a BIG salary and also i would only work 1 day per 7 days off. They agreed and so I took the job. It took me like a month to fly to New York from there because I flew one day, then had to take a week off, then fly again then take a week off then have a meeting then take a week off, etc.

In the wine reservoir they had these HUGE turbines down below the water like way deep and they would offer scuba / diving tours. WELL, they only really did that to people they didn't like and they would guide them INTO the turbines to be chopped into little bits. I was horrified. However, not by the murder more so because I enjoyed the wine. I was like I DONT WANAN DRINK THIS WITH TINY HUMAN BITS AND BLOOD IN IT! They were like this reservoir is like 10 trillion gallons a few humans aren't gonna matter but i was still disgusted so I came up with an idea to bottle a Luxury brand of the wine that was in a separate reservoir that we could charge more for and there would be no bits. I'm a genius!

Anyway, this is how my brain works

bye

[hauntingblue]

I have connected two dots... yamato kaido and momo (and kinda shirahoshi with her top) have clouds above their shoulders... and luffy in gear fourth has them also.... I can see the signs

[arolesbianism]

Just realized I forgot to post these

[cimicherrychanga]

btw u guys have to promise to not be mad at me for becoming ur turtle mutual. please

[nagasleeps]

im gonna post art this weekend <- guy who has failed this the last 3 weekends in a row

[ragnars-tooth]

I should not have been taught so badly for 3 years that i genuinely have to google how to find job postings in my field. "Get a degree!! Get a degree!!" for why. To be laughed at by out of touch tutors and not taught anything? It's certainly not going to help me get a job because i CANT FIND THEM. "People will see you went here and that will give you credibility." Will it roderick. Because I now know not to trust a motherfucker who went here 💀

[stevesgother]

I Don't Want You Like A Bestfriend - S.H

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 2.3k

Warnings - mentions of anxiety, reader not liking large gatherings, swearing, alcohol (reader works at a bar). As always, let me know if I missed anything!

AN - Part 2 of the Dress mini series! This could technically be a standalone fic, but for the full context I would recommend reading part 1 :) 

Dress Series - Pt 1, Pt 2

December 1987

2 bowls of popcorn and 4 movies later, you’re laying on opposite ends of your twin bed with your best friend; gossiping lazily with droopy eyelids.

“I cannot go to their wedding without a date, Rob.” looking at her exasperated, “That’s like, totally embarrassing! Steve’s gonna have this Madonna-ey, bombshell blonde and with giant boobs and I'm gonna bring who? My cousin? Not happening.” You say with finality.

“Well forgive me,” Robin deadpans. “I only know like,” She gestures dramatically, trying to count in her head, “7 boys!”

May 1985

Immediately upon opening your eyes, you’re met with the blinding pain of your too big brain bouncing around inside your skull and a foreboding sense of dread upon recalling the way you behaved the night before.

You could only remember bits and pieces of the wretched night, but you were humiliated nonetheless. Had you said something you shouldn’t have? Your stomach churns at the thought and briefly you fear you might yak again.

A few weeks later, you were walking the stage, diploma in hand. Steve had broken up with Nancy Wheeler the week following prom. Feigning some bullshit about him leaving for college; not wanting to do long distance. Those cliche, overused excuses that everyone knows loosely translate to “I don’t love you anymore.”

Steve didn’t even get into tech, unbeknownst to Nancy. He was dodgy when you asked him about their breakup. “I just felt like we didn’t make sense anymore, you know? But it-” he sighed, “it’s just, it’s not like I could say that to her.” 

You didn’t want to push the subject further, despite your bewilderment. Part of you felt desperately guilty at the idea that you may have been the catalyst for what happened to their relationship. You didn’t dare ask, though. Maybe you didn’t want to know, or maybe you just didn’t want to make it about yourself. 

December 1987

The Wandering Dog was especially busy tonight. Folks trying to escape their in-laws for a few hours during the holiday season, college kids home for break trying to get wasted; and all of it was your problem. The pay was nice, you made good tips bartending. Right as you watch someone knock over an entire tray of drinks, a familiar head of hair makes its way to sit in front of you at the bar. Distracting, but not enough to suppress the groan that leaves your throat when it dawns on you that those drinks are your mess to clean up later.

“Steve-o,” you force a smile at him, “what can I do for ya on this..lovely evening?”

“Can’t a guy visit his favorite lady without needing a reason?” He lilts.

You try not to let on how flustered you feel at his usage of ‘favorite lady’.��

“You hate this bar, you’re also technically banned-” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand “Still? Seriously? It was one time-” Your turn to interrupt, “No actually, year prior? That was your first warning.” You’re met with a roll of the eyes, forgetting how utterly sassy he’s become in the last few years. You can’t decide whether you love or hate the development.

“I actually uh,” he runs a hand through his hair- a nervous habit, “I wanted to ask you something,”. You look at him quizzically, unable to pinpoint what's caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Okay…” you draw out the last syllable, more confused than unkind. “Spill it Hairspray, you’re kind of freaking me out.” you give an awkward chuckle. Your friendship is hardly what you’d consider serious. Sure, you’ve had your share of late night, existential conversations; but you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve made the other actually nervous.

He clears his throat, “sorry yeah, sorry. I was wondering uh, ifyouwouldbemydatetojoyceandhopperswedding.”

The rest of his sentence comes out as one jumbled word. You do a double take when you finally process what he’s asking, and you choke a little on the Coke you were sipping. “What?-”

“-As friends!” he blurts loudly as his hands shoot out in front of him in a defensive gesture, “obviously, as friends. That’s- what I meant.” his words lose confidence every time he opens his mouth.

You stare for a little too long, mouth hanging open like a trout. “You don’t..already have a date?” You hope he doesn’t take offense to the inquiry. Steve Harrington can most certainly find a plus one to a simple wedding.

“Yeah I- something like that,” his mouth opens like he’s going to explain further before deciding against it; settling on a lopsided smile instead. He’s terrified he’s blown his cover. If he had given any effort at all to the endeavor, surely he would’ve been able to find a date. Fancy car, rich parents, million dollar smile and his infallible charm. The problem was that he didn’t want to go with another Heidi. Another Jessica. Another Stacy.

He wanted to go with you.

Even if it meant just as friends. You two were just friends.

-

Joyce and Hopper’s wedding was at Pokagon State Park, and the drive up was less than stellar. 3 hours stuffed inside a cramped BMW with Robin, Eddie, and Vickie. You were fortunate enough to be riding shotgun next to Steve for the trip, Eddie muttering something about ‘date privilege’.

When you arrived at the cabin you’d be sharing with your 4 friends, you were a little mortified. There was a room for Vickie and Robin, and Eddie claimed the pullout couch almost immediately. This leaves one more room. With one bed. For you and Steve Harrington. It’s possible Joyce may have misinterpreted the reality of your situation when booking the rooming accommodations.

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it. You guys had had sleepovers before, but almost never in the same bed. His house had a plethora of guest bedrooms, and your father would be found dead before he let a boy sleep in your room, even at the ripe age of 20.

We’re adults, you think. We can be mature about this.

There isn’t much time to dwell on it before you’re being stuffed by Robin into a too tight, wine red bridesmaid dress.

“I feel sick,” you say, groaning. “Do not barf on me,” she warns with a stern look, though you can tell she’s not really annoyed. “I really like these shoes.” Despite the itchy fabric of the dress and the obnoxiously loud color, you do look breathtakingly beautiful. Red has always been your color. 

“Hey dingus! Stop gawking and zip me would you?” Robin lightly kicks you with her bare foot, taking you out of your own head. When you exit the bathroom, you’re immediately met with the 2 boys. Even Eddie, who you don’t believe you’ve ever seen not in ripped jeans, cleans up nice.

Steve looks…strapping. Not handsome in the boyish way you’re used to. He’s all slicked hair, cufflinks and well-pressed wool. He meets your gaze and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly. An arm is offered to walk you to his car. He smells like cinnamon and cedar, woodsy and spice. He opens the passenger door for you and God, he’s a gentleman.

It’s going to be a long night.

- 

The venue was terribly charming. Floor to ceiling windows highlight the snow falling outside in big, fat flakes over the water. The room was lit entirely by yellow string lights, casting a permanent warm hue over the lodge.

On a table clad in lace, there were 5 notecards scribbled on in cursive ink. The one that adorned your name was directly adjacent to one that read Steve Harrington. They were paired with party favors wrapped neatly with a white silk bow.

Steve wanted to pull out your chair for you. He wanted to sit beside you with his hand in yours. Hell, he would’ve bought you a corsage if he thought it appropriate. A death by a thousand cuts; he was again reminded of the fact that you were not his, and he was not yours.

You were unable to identify the source of the nagging anxiety you felt. You were never partial to big gatherings like this, but the unease you were experiencing now was different. All you could do was relax, and try to enjoy the reception. Try not to pay mind to the stark, masculine presence sitting beside you.

The newlyweds’ first dance was to the beloved ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ By INXS. You think about how remarkably fitting a song it was for them and everything they had endured together. The restlessness you had previously felt started to steadily fade after that; laughing and chatting with your friends. It started to feel..normal, for a while.

Just then, like some sick esoteric joke, you hear the unmistakable beginning notes of ‘I’ll Be Over You’ by Toto. When you turn to your left, Steve has a poorly concealed, shit-eating grin on his face.

In the most sober tone he can muster through his unseriousness, he asks, “Can I have this dance?” while extending his hand to you. He prays you don’t notice it trembling slightly. It’s the undeniable corniness of his request that manages to strangle a laugh out of you.

 “I thought you’d never ask.”

With one hand delicately placed on your hip, he threads the other one with your own fingers as he starts to sway. You clumsily try to match his rhythm; so nervous that you’re becoming uncoordinated. His chest is nearly touching yours, and your noses are a hairsbreadth apart. It feels profoundly intimate.

'as soon as forever is through, I'll be over you.'

He leans his head down so his lips just brush your ear as he whispers, “You okay?”

You scoff, unconvincingly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You know he can see right through you. It’s fruitless to try and deceive him.

“You just seem,” he gives your waist a small squeeze, “a little tense.” You swallow hard.

“Just say the word and I'll take you home.” ‘Home’ meaning back to the cabin. Not the comforting safety of your own bed back in Hawkins. You appreciate his earnestly either way.

“I know, Steve.” you lilt, trying to lighten the intensity of the moment with a teasing tone. You rest your head against his shoulder, if only so you don’t have to keep holding his all-consuming gaze.

-

Despite the thermostat being set at a comfortable 75 degrees, you were still shivering slightly. You always ran cold. You stood in front of a dusty vanity mirror trying to extend your arms behind your back far enough to unzip this godforsaken dress.

You felt him more than you saw him. Steve’s presence displaces the air in the room as one does to water when they sink down into a steaming bath: noticeably, and comfortably. You pay him no mind as you continue to struggle with the zipper. Mulling around the same room; busy with your separate tasks, this was familiar to you. Not often did you have to acknowledge the other for them to know you were grateful for their company.

“Need a hand with that?” he asks, slightly amused as he saunters over to you.

You hesitate for a moment before looking over your shoulder and offering him a shy smile, “Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind?” You know he doesn’t.

His scent envelopes you like a thick fog when he approaches you. His calloused fingers pinch the clasp and pull it down its tracks slowly. The sound is piercing in the quiet of your shared room; your senses dialed up to 11. You can feel his warm, freshly minty breath fan over your shoulders and the nape of your neck. Your arms erupt in goosebumps at the sensation.

He stands there, he realizes, longer than he needs to. 

“Okay I’m gonna-” “There you go-” you both speak at the same time. 

You huff an awkward breath of a laugh before you finish your thought, “I’m gonna..go change.” you throw a thumb behind you in the direction of the ensuite. “Right, yeah,” he shakes his head as if to escape his own thoughts; his turn to act shy.

-

Lying in bed, you’re suddenly grateful that Steve has always been something of a personal space heater. The warmth he radiates makes you want to curl into him, against your better judgment. The silence in the room is deafening; the only sounds to be heard are rhythmic breathing and the creaking of the ancient plumbing.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve’s voice is hoarse, no doubt from the boisterous singing he’d been doing earlier in the evening. Still, you’re grateful for the crack in the wall that's been plastered between you.

“I like secrets,”

“I hate weddings.”

The stiff fabric of the pillowcase crinkles as you turn your head to look at him.

“I am happy for them, it’s not that,” he starts, “it’s just, what if it’s never me up there ya know?”  It’s not that he’s scared he’ll never marry; it’s that he’s scared he’ll never marry you.

You want to reach out for him then. Hold his face in your hands and tell him you understand. There are so many unspoken words between you. Things unsaid, but implied. The desire to yell and scream and confess how much you love him is overwhelming.

“Steve. You’re only twenty,” smiling lightheartedly, “there’s so much time for you. There are plenty of women out there that would be delighted to swear themselves to you for eternity. Believe me.” You chuckle and pretend like the reason you know that to be the truth isn’t because you’re one of them.

“I know, I know,” he brings a hand up to card through his bed mussed hair, “you’re right, it’s silly.”

“I didn’t say it was silly,” you elbow his side gently, consequently moving your body closer to his.

He doesn’t say anything then. Instead, his hand cautiously moves over the bed until it’s touching yours; intertwining your pinkies. He doesn’t breathe, as if any sudden movements might scare you like a frightened doe. If he breathes, you might remember you’re not supposed to be doing this.

“If we’re not married by the time we’re,” he pretends to ponder, “32, will you marry me?”

You laugh, the unexpected loudness of it making you cringe a little, “yes,”

“Promise?” He sounds deadly serious.

You tighten your pinky around his, “Promise.”

[crowdsourcedgender]

My zine, 'Label Coining as an Artform', is finally done! Transcript/Image ID underneath (warning: it's long). Printed version in a reblog.

[Image ID: A series of pages in a zine. The text is handwritten, and all figures described are simplified stick figures.

Page 1: ‘LABEL COINING as an ARTFORM in large text. Below is the multicolored MOGAI wheel, with three figures taking pieces of the colors and using them for art: sculpting, cutting a piece of paper, and painting. Below is ‘a MOGAI (& LIOM!) zine by Elliot/Hesper aka @ crowdsourcedgender on tumblr. Under the text are five pride flags: aro-spec, veldian, alterhuman, xenoman, and schooldoodlic.

Page 2: ‘Label Coining’ in large pink text. ‘(in this context) is the act of creating a word (and usually flag) for a certain experience!’. Next to this text is a figure filled in with pink with a speech bubble full of pink shapes, talking to someone using a cane holding out a hand and expressing a question mark. Below reads ‘generally a queer experience, but does often include or incorporate disability, neurodivergence etc.’ A figure asks ‘Why?’ and the text reads ‘I would say these are the ‘core tenets’:’. In a cloud next to this text is a blue and purple pride flag with purple text reading: ‘like this cool prosopagnosia flag I made!’.

The bottom half of the page is split into two columns: ‘Understanding’ and ‘Community’. The first column has a purple arm amputee explaining a purple rectangle to another purple person who is thinking ‘that’s me!!’. Next to them another purple person is explaining the same rectangle to a blank person, who has a purple-filled thought bubble with a white exclamation mark. Underneath the drawing is text surrounded by question marks: ‘Labels help people understand what they are experiencing, and communicate this to others. It’s easier to explain something when it’s already been written down!” The second column has a purple person holding a purple umbrella. They are waving to a purple person in a wheelchair. A purple person is leading another one to the group. Underneath the drawing is text surrounded by connected dots: ‘People can unite under a shared label whether this group is big or small! Whether for practical purposes (like advice) or just for fun, having people like you is nice.

Page 3: ‘And these are just as important as ever! But I’ve noticed what I like to call COINING for the sake of CREATION’. This last phrase is in large, dark and light blue text. Two sun symbols are on either side. Below is the text: ‘Vexillology is very clearly an artform, but label coining has become something more (not to mention that not all new labels have flags!). It’s composed of multiple skills has become more than the sum of its parts. Any art captures an experience, but label coining is much more explicit about it. And not just people’s experience of their identity! Part of the art of label coining is incorporating other concepts too, e.g. Schooldoodlic A gender related to doodling on school work papers and/or your homework. By spirits-gender-coining on Tumblr.’ The text about Schooldoodlic is small and light teal. Next to the text is its flag.

Page 4: ‘Elements of Label Coining’. The text on this page is separated into four green boxes.

‘Naming: Coming up with the actual word can be tricky. Generally, labels with lots of elements get more leeway with length. It’s important to check that a label isn’t already a word as well.’ Next to this text is more rough, dark green text reading ‘Premade suffixes + prefixes help! And latin (for some languages) as it’s possible to intuit meaning!’ Around the text is a few examples: ‘-vesil’ ‘-musica’ ‘an-’ ‘quoi-’

‘Flag making: Also known as vexillology, this is a pretty big deal. It’s also the most fun for me! You develop a really good sense of color from spending so much recoloring the same three stripes.’ Next to the text is 6 versions of the same pride flag, each with slightly different colors, with a 7th final version with a symbol.

‘Symbol making: Most flags don’t have symbols, but they’re good for groups of labels under a certain umbrella, or just if you have a really good idea.’ Next to this is rough, dark green text reading: ‘I drew three semirealistic flowers for a flag and ended up only using one’ with sad face. Under it is a drawing of a daisy, a pink coneflower, and lavender, which is circled.

‘Descriptions/formatting: Explanations can be artistic in their own right, and formatting is fun to mess with: many people have their own style. Make sure it’s accessible: add image IDs and plain text where applicable. There are a lot of good resources online!’ In dark green text is the phrase ‘Accessibility over Aesthetics’ with an image of a key on top and sparkles below.

Underneath the boxes in light green text is ‘Note: in the right context, any of these can be optional!’

Page 5: ‘If it wasn’t clear, I think this is AWESOME’. Awesome is in large text with yellow radiating lines. Underneath is ‘I’m a MOGAI coiner myself (generally) with about 65 coins at time of drawing. Using something I made, I wanted to demonstrate what a label coining might look like!’ Underneath is four versions of the same pride flag as well as a description, with ‘flag!’ ‘stripe meanings (I don’t normally do these)’ ‘symbol’ ‘name’ ‘pre-existing format’ and ‘experience’ labelled. The description reads ‘[Image ID was here] Human non-conforming (HNC). Human non-conforming (HNC, similar to gender non-conforming) is an umbrella label encompassing all identities and subcultures that somehow incorporate nonhuman elements in any way.’

Page 6: ‘The thing I love most about the label coining community is just that- the community! The way coiners and users interact, as well as how coiners can work together, is wonderful. There are 5 large words each with an associated doodle.

‘Requesting’: A figure leaning on forearm crutches has a speech bubble with yellow shapes exploding out of it. Another figure is taking shapes down from the bubble and forming it into a ball.

‘Collecting’: A figure is pulling a yellow cart with a large cloth bag labelled ‘LABELS’. They have stars in their eyes, and are looking at another person who is gesturing to a yellow rectangle.

‘Collaborating’: Two figures, one with orange speech and one with yellow speech and an AAC tablet are discussing, with many shapes and lines intermingling to make a fragmented rectangle.

‘Combining’: A figure in a grey hijab pulls down a lever. They are standing next to a large blender mixing orange and yellow liquids. On either side is bright yellow lightning.

‘Redesiging’: A small star with four radial lines coming out of it becomes more and more complex, indicated by black arrows.

Under the words is the text: ‘I’ve never participated, but there’s this amazing event called: COINFIGHT. Hosted by @ kiruliom on Tumblr. It’s inspired by artfight, and it involves coining labels for other people- but competitive-ish!’ Coinfight is in large, text with a crescent moon with stars at the top right corner, and a star at the bottom left.

Page 7: ‘I don’t think there’s anything like finding a label that finally fits you, or hearing that something you made did that for someone else.’ Under is a figure looking at an orange flower with light lines, then forming elements of the flower into a bubble, then showing an orange rectangle to another figure, with orange tendrils reaching towards them, forming the shape of a heart. Below is the text ‘There are a lot of things like pouring out your heart- or just having fun- while making or collecting label. I coin in the same mind I sketch and color and shade.’ On each side is a pen drawing an orange figure with a red shirt, and a tablet with an orange and red flag. Under this is ‘Label coining is an artform both like and unlike any other, and I’m proud to participate in it. I hope that if you want to, you can join me. And if that’s not your thing- thanks for reading!’ There is a drawing of a figure with dark grey wings holding up two fingers. Next is a ‘<2’ heart and ‘elliot’ as a signature. In smaller text next to these is ‘Thank you to the creators whose work is featured in this zine! Credit on the next page. Remember to keep this wonderful community and artform accessible to all!’

Page 8: ‘Credit’: This section has a pride flag next to each label. ‘Aromantic-spectum, @ theflagarchive on Tumblr. Turian, @ kenochoric on Tumblr. Schooldoodlic, @ spirits-gender-coining on Tumblr. Xenoman, @ ryanyflags on Tumblr. MOGAI symbol, Pride-Flags on DeviantArt. Alterhuman, @ vaestra on Tumblr. (the flag on pg. 4 is Wildflowergender). ‘About making this zine’: ‘I really, really regret handwriting this. Drawing over Helvetica Neue for so long might change my actual handwriting, [more rough:] which looks like this! According to Artstudio Pro, I took 14 hours! I barely planned this before starting, the color wheel theme and the people doodles. /End ID]

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Nail your School Essays

                Not to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal when it comes to essays at my school. Since I started highschool I haven’t received a grade less than 90% on an essay—so I’m here to share my secret. This works for the classic essay, but you can also use the same advice and fit it to formal reports or other academic writing.

1. Your essay is about 2 things, demonstrated 3 or more times

This is how I’ve always thought about essays. They’re about two ideas, demonstrated as many times as you need to fill the wordcount. Shakespeare + Feminism, Media + Truth versus Misconception, etc. etc. If you’re lucky, your teacher or prof will give you one of your elements. You’ll get assignments like, “write an essay about Hamlet” or “write an essay about the American dream” lucky you, that’s your first thing—now you need to connect it with another.

This connecting idea is my favourite part because you just get to choose a concept or idea you’re interested in. Here’s a tip, if your first/given topic is something concrete, choose an abstract connecting idea. If your given topic is something abstract, choose a concrete.

So, Hamlet (concrete) could be paired with any abstract concept: Loyalty, Truth, Feminism, etc.

However, if your prof gives you something like, “truth” or “race theory”, you’ll find it much easier to connect that with a more concrete thing, like a book, movie, or other piece of media, or even a specific person.

If you are luckiest, your prof will give you both things, “write about the American Dream in The Great Gatsby” in this case, you’re onto the next stage.

2. Stick to the formula

Tried, tested, true. Nothing wrong with a formula, especially not when it gives you A+ grades. Typical essay structure is:

Intro with thesis

2. 1st Body

2a. Evidence that proves it 1

2i. Justify its relevance

2b. Evidence that proves it 2

2ii. Justify its relevance

Etc.

3. 2nd Body

3a. Evidence that proves it

3i.Justification

Etc.

4. 3rd Body

4a. Rise and repeat, you know where this is going.

5. Some may argue…

6. Conclusion

Let’s break it down.

Thesis:

                Thesis completely outlines all your points, or the three+ places you’re demonstrating your connection, and why it matters.

                Here is an intro + thesis I wrote a couple years ago:

“This literature review will explore the impacts influencer marketing has on the children that regularly consume social media content. Specifically, this review will focus on how influencers can impact children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, and lastly, the influx of children taking advantage of this system and becoming influencers themselves.”

Or

“Burned discusses the human aspect of sex work and reverses reader’s expectations on sex workers, while Not in My Neighbourhood discusses prostitutes as victims of a system created against them. Both challenge readers’ perceptions of sex workers, effectively drawing attention to the ethics of displacing sex workers from their cities.”

                So you have your connection (children and social media)/(Burned and Not in My Neighbourhood and sex work), and the different ways you plan on exploring or proving that idea (children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, children becoming influencers.) etc.

                You may also have a more specific stance in your thesis. Such as, “In Macbeth, ambition is shown to be Macbeth’s ultimate downfall in these three ways.”

The Body Paragraphs

                You start out every body paragraph with the point of the paragraph, or what it’s aiming to prove. Such as, “Influencers often include advertisements within their content, which can encourage children to feel more amiably to certain brands their favourite content creators endorse frequently more than others.”

                After this claim, you spend the rest of the paragraph further proving it through examples. This will look like citing a specific source (a book, academic journal, quote, etc.) such as, “The authors claim likeable influencers can associate their likeability with the products they use, influencing children’s perception of brands, referred to as ‘meaning transfer’ (De Veirman et al. 2019)” (super important to always cite these sources!)

                The last part is after each example/proof--you need to justify why this proves your point/is important. So, “This proves children are more influenced towards certain products depending on how close of a relationship they perceive to have with the influencer.”

                Typically, your evidence will all lead into each other so you can transition to the next piece of proof, then the justification, rinse and repeat until you’re finished your paragraph. You can have as many pieces of evidence as you want per paragraph, and the longer your word requirement, the more you’ll want to fit into each point (or the more bodies you want to have.)

                Piece of evidence + why it matters, rinse and repeat.

Some May Argue:

                This is a small paragraph just before your conclusion where you anticipate an argument your readers may have, and disprove it. So, for example, you’d start with, “Some may argue that with parent supervision, the impacts of influencers on children could be lessened or moot. However…” and then explain why they’re wrong. This strengthens your argument, and proves that you’ve really thought out your stance.

Conclusion:

                Lastly, you want to sum up all the conclusions you came to in a few sentences. Your last line is one of the most important (in my opinion). I call it the mic drop moment. Leaving a lasting impact on your reader can bring your essay from an A to an A+, so you really want to nail this final sentence.

                My final sentence was, “Ultimately, it is hard to know in advance how technology and social media will impact the development of children who have always grown up with some form of screen, but until they grow up, parents and caregivers need to take care in the content their children consume, and their very possible exploitation online.”

This sentence is backed by the entirety of the essay that came before it, and usually leaves a little something to chew on for the readers.

Any other tips I missed?

[joifee]

Here are both my pieces for the @bdubszine !!!!! Such a great opportunity to run with it and just have fun with detail work.

I am in love with sungod bdubs and very proud of this piece with the improv class^^

Down below is some in depth talk for the first piece with bdubs and all his clocks :D

The one on his chest is a regular minecraft clock - he always carries one in his offhand. In the background his his big tower from his "building with bdubs" series. He is wearing his moss cloak. On his wirst: A clock with a horse: he loves horses. also it actually is inspired by the horse-mountain he build in season 9 of hermitcraft A purple clock with ears: a purple panda clock. He joined one mcc (minecraft championship) and one it first try on the team called purple pandas) A tnt block-clock: Season 7 of hermitcraft he had, alongside impulse and tango, a company called "the boomers" who would explode stuff with tnt for diamonds - bdubs stick was he would die in every blow up they do (there are compilations)

in his jacket: The clock looking like a ring: reference to double life. He was soul-bonded to impulse and they lowkey roleplayed as a married couple and impulse gifted him a clock as a sign or marriage. therefore it looks like a ring. it also has "i" pointers because impulse always puts "i"s on his stuff A regular alarm clock: Basically that - maybe a reference for him always sleeping through the night. The red glasses clock: reference to season 8. He, tango and keralis based together and called themself "big eyes crew" and they all wore red glasses Emerald shaped clock: season 9 as the right hand to king rendog (theres also a crown inside the shape) emeralds because rendog and bdubs wanted to change currency to royal emeralds which started a war on the server and led to rendogs execution. bdubs stayed loyal till the end "hep" clock: Season 7. He plays right hand man to mayor scar. There was a turfwar between two groups - one wanted their main island to be mycelium the other wanted it to be grass. HEP was the group who wanted grassblocks so its a grassblocked shaped clock. they lost the war clock with a snake: 3rd life reference. Inside the clock theres a castle "the crastle" which was his and cleos base in 3rd life. The snake stands for cleo. the heart is part of the logo for the traffic series (same btw count for the heart in the impulse ring) sundial: reference to the hermitcraftxempires smp crossover. bdubs came to empires smp and announced himself as "the sungod" and basically became a god and gem, oli, fwhip and sausage were his followers for the short time. the shape is after a build sausage made in his name the "B" sign: reference to last life. He was part of team B.E.S.T. and they had shields with their initials aka Bdubs, Etho, Skizzlman and Tango. The four hearts are the lifes he was given at the start of the series half tnt clock: reference to ethoslab who is his best friend on hermitcraft and they are just unnormal about each other messed up steam punk clock: reference to the create series he did with keralis, tango, scar and zedaph who unfortunatly was short lived mcc coin: the coin he got for winning mcc broken heart monitor clock: limited life. there's a heart monitor and digital clock. the clock is broken because bdubs didnt uploaded his view for limited life (at the time of drawing this piece) so we never new how much time he had left (we know now) small pocket watch with snake and wings: also limited life. he teamed up with scar (the wings) and cleo (the snake) tree clock: the tree of whimsey. one of his first builds of season 9. he crowned tango as parkour king, cub as royal magican/dragonslayer and ren as king under it

rest of the smaller clocks are filler

[emjayewrites]

hey there, delilah • jude bellingham (7/8)

SYNOPSIS: Real Madrid football star Jude Bellingham has had a big crush on Delilah "Lila" Hamilton, the younger sister of Formula 1 legend Lewis Hamilton, for a while. As their budding romance unfolds, will they be able to navigate the pressures of fame and family dynamics?

PAIRINGS: Jude Bellingham x Delilah "Lila" Hamilton (face claim Rayan Xasan)

WARNINGS: cursing, f1/football b.s., overly protective siblings, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @dreamingjude @foreverisntenough @nichmeddar @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @judesbabymamas @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @cocobutterqwueen @leilaxaliel @ispywithmylileye @vile-harlot @bellinghaalands @certifiedlesbianbaddie @yeea-nah @empressdede @saturnville @pinkcatcus @shepgurl @trentswrld @taytropicana

A/N: Please note that this is a work of fiction and some things may not sound "exactly correct" but bear with me to make this work. Let me know if you like to be removed/added to the taglist.

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of England's hard-fought match against Switzerland. The 1-1 draw left Jude with mixed feelings as he ran a hand through his damp curls, still catching his breath as he joined the line of players at midfield. As they went through the post-game ritual, shaking hands with the opposing team, Jude exchanged tired but respectful nods with the Swiss players.

"Good game, mate," he muttered to one of the Swiss midfielders.

"You too," came the reply. "See you in the finals, maybe?"

Jude grinned. "We'll see about that."

His mind, though, was already drifting away from the game. He had a day off tomorrow, and all he could think about was how he planned to spend it.

As he jogged back towards the tunnel, Trent caught up with him. "Big plans for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Jude nodded, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Heading to Silverstone for Lewis' race."

Trent raised an eyebrow. "Southgate actually agreed to that?"

Jude chuckled. "Barely. Had to promise I'd be back before dawn the following day."

In the locker room, as he showered and changed, Jude's thoughts were filled with anticipation for the next day. His relationship with Lila had blossomed in ways he hadn't expected. They had only been together for a month, but Jude was sure about her—more sure than almost anything else in his life.

Once they arrived back to the resort, he immediately packed his bag, and his phone buzzed with a message from Lila:

Great game! Can't wait to see you. Safe travels 💋

His smile widened as he typed back:

Thanks, babe. See you soon.

The journey to England felt both endless and too quick. Before he knew it, Jude was walking through the arrivals gate at Heathrow, scanning the crowd for Lila's face.

"Jude!" Her voice cut through the airport noise, and suddenly she was there, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Hey, you," he murmured into her hair, breathing in her familiar scent.

As they drove to Lewis' home in London, Jude couldn't help but marvel at how natural it all felt. "So, ready for your first British Grand Prix?" Lila asked, glancing at him as she navigated the London traffic.

"More than ready," Jude grinned. "Though I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous about meeting your whole family."

Lila laughed. "Don't be. They're going to love you. Though fair warning, my dad might try to grill you a bit."

"I can handle it," Jude said confidently, though his stomach did a little flip. He exhaled a deep breath. This was it - another step in their relationship, another piece falling into place. And despite the whirlwind pace of the past month, despite the pressure of the upcoming semi-finals and Southgate's warnings, Jude felt ready. Ready for whatever came next, as long as Lila was by his side.

When they pulled up to Lewis' house, Jude's eyes widened. The home stood in an affluent London neighborhood, its traditional British style exuding both elegance and charm. Jude couldn't help but think how posh yet cool it looked - not that he'd expected anything less from Lewis. His own place in Madrid was nice, and his mum had done some renovations, but it wasn't quite like this.

"You okay?" Lila asked, noticing his momentary hesitation.

Jude turned to her, his eyes softening. "Never better," he said, leaning in for a quick kiss before they stepped out of the car and as they walked along the gravel path to the front door, Jude's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what did Lewis pay for this place?" he asked, gesturing to the impressive façade.

Lila shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure. He bought it when I was about 13. I know it was a lot, but the exact figure? No clue."

Lila used her key to enter, and they were immediately greeted by the sound of barking. Roscoe, Lewis' English bulldog, came bounding towards them.

"What's up, boy?" Jude said, reaching down to pet the dog. But Roscoe growled, causing Jude to jump back slightly. "Jeez, he acts just like your brother towards me," he muttered.

Lila giggled. "It takes Roscoe some time to warm up to new people. Don't worry, he'll come around."

Jude wasn't so sure, but he followed Lila through the house, past the foyer, and into one of the living areas. His eyes were drawn to the family photos adorning the walls. One, in particular, caught his attention - a 20-year-old Lewis holding a tiny baby Lila inside a hospital's NICU.

"This you, innit?" Jude asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Lila confirmed softly.

"You were so small," Jude noted. "And Lewis was so young."

"But a bit too old to be a brother to a newborn," she added jokingly.

A small smirk tugged at Jude's lips. "Yeah, I guess you can say that, but he looks so proud here. You're really his baby, huh?" He glanced back at Lila, who tilted her head in confusion.

"What?"

Jude shrugged. "I mean, you were born on his birthday and more than half of these pictures on the wall have you in them. You're definitely his baby, and him acting the way he does makes total sense now."

Lila just squinted her eyes at her boyfriend. "Okay, Jude���" she said, trailing off, not sounding too convinced.

They made their way through a pair of sliding doors to the garden, where Jude spotted Lewis and other members of Lila's family near the grill area. Surprisingly, it was one of those weirdly nice days in London - less cold than usual and perfect for a summer evening barbecue.

As they approached the group, Jude felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. Lila started pointing people out. "Right, so this is everyone. Jude, meet Mumma Carmen, Lewis' mum." A warm-looking woman smiled at him. "And this is my mum, Linda." Jude noticed Linda was a white woman with blonde hair and blue eyes - like a fair-skinned version of Lila, with the same nose.

"Over here's my brother Nicolas," Lila continued, nodding towards a guy who gave Jude a friendly wave. Jude noticed Nicolas moved a bit differently, probably due to the cerebral palsy Lila had mentioned before. "He races too," Lila added, sounding proud.

"Then we've got Samantha and Nicola, Lewis' sisters. I call 'em my sisters too," Lila grinned.

Finally, she gestured to a man by the grill. "And that's my dad, Anthony."

"Holy shit," Jude muttered, "that's a lot of people."

A few laughs rippled through the group, Nicolas chuckling the loudest. Lewis and Anthony, though, just kept staring Jude down.

Linda broke the moment of tension. "My, you are tall, aren't you?" she said warmly. "Why don't you take a seat, Jude? You must be tired from your flight."

Jude plopped down gratefully, Lila sliding in next to him. He could still feel Lewis and Anthony's eyes boring into him.

"So, Jude," Nicolas leaned in, "that was some game against Switzerland, eh? That assist in the 67th minute was ace."

Jude perked up, grateful for the familiar topic. "Yeah, it was a tough one. Switzerland's defense is no joke."

Lewis finally broke his silence, taking a seat on the other side of Jude and Lila. "So, Jude," he started, his tone casual but his eyes still scrutinizing, "how's the Euros camp treating you?"

Jude, feeling the weight of Lewis' gaze, tried to keep his voice steady. "It's intense, but good. Southgate's got us working hard."

Anthony approached, setting plates of grilled corn, aubergines, and asparagus on the table. "And how exactly did you convince Southgate to let you come here?" he asked, his tone light but probing.

Before Jude could answer, Carmen stood up. "I'll get the potato salad and other things from the fridge."

"Need any help?" Jude offered quickly, eager for a potential escape.

Carmen smiled warmly. "That's kind of you, love, but I'm fine. Samantha can help me."

"Peanut," Anthony called, "can you help your mum and Nicola with some utensils and plates?"

Lila glanced at the table, confusion crossing her face. "But Daddy, we have—"

"Come on, sweetheart," Linda urged, gesturing for Lila to follow.

As Lila reluctantly got up, Jude felt a wave of panic.

Oh, fuck me.

Jude's eyes followed Lila until she disappeared out of his line of sight. Left alone with Lila's brothers, father, and a still-growling Roscoe, Jude scrambled for something to say. "You've got a lovely garden," he commented, his eyes darting to the well-manicured lawn and the gleaming pool. "The pool looks great."

Anthony's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, it is. Perfect for family gatherings. Speaking of family, Jude, what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?"

Jude gulped, feeling like he was suddenly in the hot seat. "Well, sir, I—"

"Because Lila's special," Anthony continued, his tone measured but firm. "She's not just another fling. She's got her own career, her own ambitions."

Lewis chimed in, his voice deceptively casual. "Yeah, and she's been through a lot. We're all pretty protective of her."

Jude nodded, trying to keep his cool. "I understand that, and I respect it. Lila's amazing, and I—"

"You've been together what, a month?" Anthony interrupted. "That's not very long."

Jude took a deep breath, realizing this was his moment to stand his ground. "It might not be long, but I care about Lila. A lot. And I'm here because I want to be a part of her life - all of it. Including her family."

There was a moment of tense silence before Nicolas spoke up. "Give the lad a break, yeah? He's already facing Roscoe's wrath, isn't that enough?"

As if on cue, Roscoe let out another low growl. Jude couldn't help but chuckle nervously, grateful for the slight break in tension. He just hoped Lila would return soon - very soon.

Lewis let out a dark laugh. "He could use a bit more." He cut his eyes to Jude. "You can handle it, right, Jude?"

Jude rolled his eyes, feeling frustration bubble up. "You're something else, mate."

"Ooh, am I?" Lewis said, eyes wide with mock surprise. "I'm gonna let you have that one."

"I guess you are," Jude bit back, scowling at Lewis. Roscoe let out another growl and a sharp bark. His patience snapped. "I get it, okay? You love her, but I don't think you antagonizing me is necessary." Jude's eyes shifted to Anthony. "I honestly care for your daughter, Mr. Hamilton. Lila and I are growing into something serious, okay? I'm talking really serious... maybe marriage, who knows?"

All the men's eyebrows shot up at this.

"Yeah, I know it sounds weird, 'specially because we're both young, but it feels right," Jude continued, his voice firm. "And my mum likes her, and my annoying little brother too, so she's perfect in my eyes."

A tense silence followed, broken only by Nicolas' low whistle. "Well, damn," he muttered.

Anthony leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "That's... quite a statement, young man."

Before Jude could respond, Lila returned with her mum, Carmen, and the sisters. They started setting up the table, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

Jude's face softened as he looked at Lila. "This looks so good," he said, smiling up at her before leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

Carmen, noticing the strained atmosphere, spoke up. "Are you lot gonna keep snarling at Jude or are we going to eat?"

Lewis cracked a smile, then proceeded to put food on his plate. Anthony followed suit, though his eyes still flickered to Jude occasionally.

As everyone started to dig in, Lila leaned close to Jude. "Everything okay?" she whispered.

Jude nodded, squeezing her hand under the table. "Yeah, just... bonding with the family."

Linda raised her glass. "Well, let's eat! And Jude, dear, don't let these boys intimidate you. We're glad you're here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton," Jude said gratefully, digging into his food while still catching occasional glances from Lewis.

"Daddy, can you pass the corn please?" Lila asked, and both Jude and Anthony reached for it simultaneously. Jude immediately regretted his unconscious reaction as he saw the confused and almost petrified looks on Lewis and Anthony's faces.

Nicolas doubled over in laughter. "Oh my god, I fuckin' love this so much," he said between gasps, holding onto his stomach as Linda nudged him. When Nic finally calmed down, he let out an exaggerated "Whoo," wiping tears from his eyes.

Jude let out a nervous chuckle and passed the corn to Lila, catching her subtle glare. He mouthed a "sorry," knowing he'd be hearing about this later.

As they continued eating, Samantha turned to Jude. "So, Jude, Lila tells us you're quite the foodie. Any favorite spots in Madrid?"

Grateful for the change of subject, Jude launched into a description of his favorite tapas bar. As he spoke, he felt the tension slowly easing.

Nicola chimed in, addressing Lila. "How are the new designs for Petite Soeur coming along? Any sneak peeks for us?"

Lila's face lit up. "Actually, I've got some exciting ideas brewing. I'll probably need to head to New York after the Euro finals to source some fabrics."

"New York?" Jude asked, surprised. "You hadn't mentioned that."

Lila shrugged. "It's still in the planning stages. But yeah, probably a quick trip. Maybe a week or so."

Jude nodded, trying not to show his disappointment at the thought of Lila being away so soon after the tournament.

"You should go with her, Jude," Carmen suggested. "New York's lovely in the summer."

Jude glanced at Lila. "Yeah, maybe. If I can get the time off."

Midnight approached, and the night was finally winding down. The once-lively outside dining area now bore the remnants of their family dinner, with empty plates and half-filled glasses scattered across the table. Jude, fighting against the weight of exhaustion, diligently helped with the cleanup, determined to make a good impression until the very end.

Lila made her rounds, hugging each family member goodbye. Her embraces lingered a bit longer than usual, promising to see them tomorrow at Lewis' race. She carefully packed some leftovers into containers, planning to take them back to her flat.

In the warmly lit living room, Jude found himself alone with Nicolas while Lewis pulled Lila aside. Despite trying not to eavesdrop, snippets of their conversation drifted over.

"Why are you leaving? You usually stay before the British Grand Prix," Lewis asked.

"Not this time," Lila replied. "What about Jude?"

"He could stay at your flat," Lewis grumbled.

"I might as well stay with Jude," Lila said firmly.

When they returned, Nicolas looked at Lila with an exaggerated pout. "Leaving, Li?"

"Not you too!" Lila exclaimed. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Come on, Li," Nicolas persisted, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "We're going to play Mario Kart. You and Jude can sleep over here. Right, Lew?"

They all turned to Lewis, whose expression remained impassive. "He's not staying here," he said flatly.

"Lewis!" Nic admonished, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Jude felt relieved. He had no desire to stay at Lewis' house either and was looking forward to returning to Lila's comfortable flat where he knew he was welcome.

"Alright, we're going to head out," Lila said, motioning for Jude to stand, making him practically jump up.

Locking eyes with Lewis, Jude said, "See ya tomorrow, mate."

"Mmhmm," Lewis muttered.

Turning to Nicolas, Jude said, "See ya, Nic," dapping him up in a bro hug/handshake combination.

"See ya, Jude. Nice meeting you. See you on the paddock tomorrow," Nic replied warmly.

At least one brother like me.

As they prepared to leave, Lila hugged both her brothers, saving Lewis for last. "Is Amara coming to the race?" she asked, her tone deceptively innocent.

Nicolas' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who the hell is Amara?"

Lila and Jude exchanged shocked looks before Lila turned back to Lewis, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, Lewis, you haven't told Nic about your new girl that's somewhat more than a friend? For shame!"

Lewis shot her a warning glare. "Lila..."

"Girlfriend? What?" Nic exclaimed. "Since when?"

"It's new," Lewis muttered, clearly uncomfortable. "And we're not even official."

"And apparently a secret," Lila added with a grin.

As they left, Jude couldn't help but feel a bit smug about the bomb they'd just dropped. Lewis deserved it for continuing to act like an asshole.

In the car, the soft melodies of Tems filled the silence as Lila navigated the quiet London streets. The tension from the evening slowly melted away, replaced by their usual comfortable dynamic.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Lila asked, glancing at Jude.

Jude chuckled, stretching his long legs as much as the car allowed. "Could've been worse, I suppose. At least your dad didn't actually grill me... on the barbecue, I mean."

Lila laughed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You did great. And hey, Nic likes you. That's a win in my book."

The next morning, Jude woke to the gentle buzz of Lila's alarm. Silverstone awaited. As he stretched, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, he couldn't help but grin. Race day. With Lila. And her entire family. Again. No pressure, right?

"Morning, sleepyhead," Lila mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep. "Ready for some high-speed family bonding?"

Jude chuckled. "As ready as I'll ever be. Think your dad will try to strap me to the front of Lewis' car?"

Lila swatted his arm playfully. "Behave, you."

The drive to Silverstone was a blur of countryside and Lila's excited chatter about the race. As they pulled into the paddock, the roar of engines mingling with screaming fans, Jude felt a surge of adrenaline.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, taking in the chaos. "And I thought football fans were intense."

Hand in hand, they made their way through the crowd. Jude couldn't help but notice the double-takes, the whispers, the phones hastily raised to capture a picture of the footballer and the racer's sister.

"Jude! Lila!" Samantha's voice cut through the noise. She was wrangling two kids who looked like they'd mainlined sugar for breakfast.

"Hey, Sam," Lila greeted, hugging her sister. "Jude, meet Willow and Kaiden."

Jude crouched down, grinning at the kids. "Alright, you two? Ready to watch your uncle Lewis smoke everyone?"

Willow, the older of the two, eyed him suspiciously. "Are you really a football player?"

"Last time I checked," Jude replied, feigning uncertainty. "Maybe I dreamed it all. Quick, someone pinch me!"

Kaiden, never one to pass up an opportunity, obliged with enthusiasm.

"Ow! Okay, definitely not dreaming," Jude laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically.

As they made their way to the Mercedes garage, Jude spotted Anthony. The older man's expression was guarded, but softer than the previous night.

"Morning, Mr. Hamilton," Jude greeted, trying not to sound too eager.

"Jude," Anthony nodded. "Sleep well?"

"Like a log, sir. Your daughter's got a comfy flat."

Anthony's eyebrow twitched, and Jude immediately regretted his words. Foot, meet mouth.

"I mean, uh, the guest room was very nice," he backpedaled.

Lila, sensing the tension, quickly intervened. "Daddy, where's Mum? I wanted to show her something."

"Last time I saw her, she was with Carmen near the coffee station," her father answered.

"I'll be right back," Lila said, throwing Jude an amused look over her shoulder as she went to find her mother, and he found himself alone with the kids again.

"So," Willow started, her tone serious, "if you're really a footballer, can you do keepy-uppies?"

Jude grinned. "Can I do keepy-uppies? Watch this." He spotted a small stress ball on a nearby table and started juggling it with his feet.

"Not bad," Kaiden conceded, clearly impressed despite himself.

As Jude continued to entertain the kids, who had decided he was their new jungle gym, he caught Anthony watching him, a grudging smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Lila returned then, undoubtedly impressed. "You're good with them," she said softly.

Jude shrugged, trying to hide how pleased he was. "Kids are easy. It's their uncles I've got to worry about," he quipped, nodding towards where Lewis and her dad was chatting with his team.

Lewis glanced over, his expression unreadable. Jude gave a little wave, which Lewis returned after a moment's hesitation.

"Baby steps," Lila murmured.

The day stretched on, a whirlwind of pre-race excitement, strategy talks, and more family dynamics than Jude had bargained for. But as he stood there, Lila's hand in his, watching Lewis' car roar to life, he realized he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You good?" Lila whispered, squeezing his hand.

Jude nodded, grinning. "Never better. Though I might need you to protect me if Lewis doesn't win. I have a feeling I'd be the first one blamed."

Lila laughed, the sound almost lost in the roar of engines. "Don't worry, I've got your back. Now, let's watch my brother kick some ass."

As the race approached, Lila and Jude made their way to the Paddock Club, where they'd have a better view of the action. The walk there was like a red carpet event, with cameras flashing and fans calling out for autographs.

"Jude! Jude! Can I get a picture?" a young fan shouted, waving an England flag.

Jude obliged with a smile, posing for a quick selfie. "Cheers, mate. Enjoy the race!"

They settled into their seats, and the atmosphere was electric. The roar of engines filled the air as the cars lined up on the grid.

"God, I'll never get tired of this," Lila breathed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

The race was a nail-biter from start to finish. Lewis fought his way through the pack, making daring overtakes and pushing his car to the limit. Jude found himself on the edge of his seat, caught up in the family's tension and excitement.

As Lewis crossed the finish line in first place, Lila jumped up, screaming with joy, her eyes brimming with tears. "He did it! Oh my God, he actually did it!" She turned to Jude, pulling him into a tight hug, laughing and crying at the same time.

Jude smiled, holding her close. "That was huge, Lila. Your brother’s a fuckin' legend."

It was unreal—Lewis had done it. After 945 days since he last won a Grand Prix, he finally done it, and at his home race no less.

They rushed down to parc fermé, where Lewis was celebrating with their dad and his team. As soon as he spotted Lila, he broke away, and she collided with him in a fierce hug.

"I'm so proud of you," Lila sobbed into his shoulder.

Lewis held her tight, his own eyes glistening. "Couldn't have done it without my lucky charm," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

As they broke apart, Jude stepped forward, fist outstretched. "Congrats, mate. That was some drive."

Lewis looked at him for a moment, then bumped his fist. "Thanks, Jude. Appreciate it. Now you got to win Euros, yeah?"

Jude grinned, a mix of surprise and determination in his eyes. "From your mouth to God's ears, mate. We'll do our best to bring it home."

Lewis nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I'll be watching. Don't let us down, Bellingham."

"No pressure then," Jude chuckled, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with Lewis for the first time.

Lila, beaming at the exchange, wrapped an arm around each of them. "My two champions," she said, her voice filled with pride and affection.

The moment was interrupted by a swarm of reporters and cameras, all clamoring for Lewis' attention. As Lewis was pulled away for interviews, Jude felt Lila squeeze his hand.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For being here, for trying with my family. It means a lot."

Jude pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Li," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and warm.

Lila smiled up at him, her eyes glistening with emotion. She reached up, cupping his face as their lips met in a soft kiss, but what started as something gentle quickly grew more intense. Jude's hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer as the world around them seemed to fade. Lila melted into him for a moment, feeling the heat rise between them, before gently pushing him back with a breathy laugh.

"Jude, we’re getting carried away," she whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was paying too much attention.

Jude pouted playfully, his lips grazing her ear. "Can you blame me?" he murmured. "I’ve missed you loads. Time with your family and Lewis’ race meant we didn’t get any… ‘special’ time." His tone was teasing, but his fingers traced delicate patterns along her waist, clearly eager for more.

Lila blushed, biting her lip as she leaned into him, whispering so only he could hear, "Don’t worry… I’ll make sure you get some later before you fly back to Germany."

Jude’s eyes darkened slightly, his smirk widening. “You better,” he growled softly, causing her to laugh.

"I promise," she teased, giving him one last lingering kiss before they both straightened up.

"So," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he nodded towards Lewis' race car, "reckon your brother will let me drive one of these things if we win the Euros?"

Lila laughed, shaking her head. "Let's not push our luck, Bellingham."

Jude grinned, undeterred. "Come on, I bet I'd look proper fit in one of those racing suits. Maybe I'll ask Toto for a spare suit."

"Oh yeah?" Lila raised an eyebrow, amused. "And what makes you think you can handle one of these beasts?"

Jude puffed out his chest dramatically. "Please, I can handle anything."

Just then, Roscoe trotted by, giving Jude a suspicious look.

"Well, almost anything," Jude amended, eyeing the dog warily. "Still working on winning over your furry bodyguard there."

Lila giggled, patting Roscoe's head. "Maybe we should start smaller. How about you learn to drive a regular car first?"

"Ouch," Jude clutched his chest in mock hurt. "Low blow, Hamilton. Low blow."

As they bantered, Anthony approached, overhearing the tail end of their conversation. "What's this about driving?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

Jude tried to look innocent. "Just admiring the cars, sir. Impressive machines."

Anthony nodded slowly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "They are indeed. Tell you what, Jude. You win the Euros, and maybe - just maybe - we'll let you sit in one. Engine off, of course."

Jude's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I mean, yes sir, challenge accepted!" He turned to Lila, grinning from ear to ear. "Did you hear that? I'm halfway to being an F1 driver already."

Lila rolled her eyes fondly. "Don't get ahead of yourself, hotshot. You've still got a tournament to win."

"Details, details," Jude waved his hand dismissively, but his eyes sparkled with determination. "Just you wait, Li. I'll have that trophy in one hand and an F1 steering wheel in the other before you know it."

____________________________________________

Later that evening, back at Lila's flat, the playful banter from earlier still lingered in the air as Jude made himself comfortable on her sofa. The faint glow of the city filtered in through the windows, casting a soft light over the room. Lila sat beside him, her fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as they settled into the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Jude, still riding the high from their day at Silverstone, looked over at her, his gaze warm and filled with affection. "You know," he began, his voice low, "I wasn’t kidding about missing you. Feels like we've barely had a moment to ourselves."

Lila smiled softly, turning to face him. "Well, I’m all yours now," she teased, leaning in to brush her lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss.

The tension that had been building between them all day simmered just beneath the surface. As their lips moved together, the kiss deepened, and Jude’s hand instinctively found its way to her waist, pulling her closer. There was a gentle urgency in the way they touched, an unspoken need to make the most of the time they had left before his flight back to Germany.

Lila pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, "I did promise you some special time, didn’t I?"

Jude grinned, his hands tightening on her hips as he looked at her through half-lidded eyes. "You did," he murmured, his voice husky.

Lila slid off the sofa, standing up and taking Jude’s hand to guide him toward the bedroom. He followed her, his heart racing in anticipation. Once they reached the bed, she turned to face him, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt before lifting it over his head.

Jude watched her, his breath hitching as her hands roamed his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. "Lila..." he breathed, unable to keep the need out of his voice.

She smirked, clearly enjoying the effect she had on him. "Lie down, Bellingham," she commanded playfully.

Jude raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, doing as she asked, his long frame stretching out across the bed.

Lila climbed on top of him, straddling his hips as she leaned down to kiss him again, slow and sensual. Their hands began to explore each other, and soon, her kisses moved from his lips to his neck, making Jude groan as she nipped at his skin.

"God, I’ve missed this," he murmured, his hands resting on her thighs as she continued to kiss her way down his chest. His body tensed in anticipation, and when her lips reached the waistband of his pants, he let out a shaky breath.

Lila paused for a moment, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. "Still miss me?"

Jude let out a chuckle, his voice a bit hoarse. "More than ever."

She pulled his pants down slowly, her movements deliberate, and Jude's breath hitched as the cool air hit his skin. Lila leaned down again, pressing soft kisses along his lower abdomen, and Jude could feel his entire body respond, the tension between them reaching its peak.

When her mouth finally found him, Jude’s head fell back against the pillows, a deep groan escaping his lips. Her movements were slow, teasing at first, before she picked up a steady rhythm, her hand working in tandem with her mouth. Every flick of her tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, making his hips buck slightly in response.

Jude’s hands gripped the sheets, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as Lila continued, her pace quickening as his moans filled the room. He was losing control, the sensation overwhelming as she brought him closer and closer to the edge.

"Lila... fuck," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "You’re gonna make me—"

Before he could finish, his release hit him hard, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his body trembling beneath her. Lila didn’t stop, taking all of him as he rode out his high, her lips and tongue working him through it.

When she finally pulled back, Jude was left breathless, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover. Lila looked up at him, wiping the corner of her mouth with a small, satisfied smile.

Jude stared at her in awe, still catching his breath. "God, you’re so good at that," he said with a lazy grin, his voice laced with admiration.

Lila laughed softly, crawling back up to rest beside him, her head on his chest. "Told you I’d make up for earlier."

Jude wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You’re amazing," he murmured, still in a daze.

"Well," she teased, "I try."

Jude chuckled, his fingers trailing up and down her arm as they settled into the comfortable silence of the room. He knew he had to leave for Germany soon, but for now, all he wanted was to stay here with Lila, wrapped up in their little world, where nothing else mattered.

The Olympiastadion in Berlin was a cauldron of noise as the clock ticked towards the 90th minute. England and Spain were locked at 1-1, the match poised on a knife-edge. Jude's legs burned with exhaustion, but he pushed on, desperate to make something happen.

Suddenly, a teasing cross from Cucurella found Oyarzabal. Time seemed to slow as the ball nestled into the back of the net. 2-1 to Spain. The stadium erupted - half in jubilation, half in despair.

Jude's heart sank. He looked at the clock - three minutes of added time. It wasn't enough. As the final whistle blew, the weight of the loss crashed down on him. He fell to his knees, then forward onto his hands, his forehead touching the grass.

Tears stung his eyes as he pounded the pitch with his fist. So close. They'd been so close.

Around him, his teammates were in various states of despair. Some lay on the ground, others wandered aimlessly, shell-shocked. The Spanish celebrations seemed a world away.

As Jude finally lifted his head, the magnitude of the loss hit him. This wasn't just about football. He knew what was coming - the media frenzy, the scrutiny, the blame. And worse, the ugly side of it all - the racism that always reared its head in moments like these.

He could already imagine the headlines, the social media posts, the slurs that would be hurled at him and his Black teammates. The thought made his stomach churn.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. It was Gareth Southgate, his face etched with a mixture of disappointment and pride. "You did us proud, lad," he said softly. "Hold your head high."

Jude nodded, but the words felt hollow in the face of such devastating loss. As he slowly got to his feet, his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for one face in particular. He found Lila in the stands, her eyes red from crying but filled with love and support.

Without thinking, Jude jogged over, hopping the barrier with ease. Lila's arms were around him in an instant, her familiar scent a balm to his raw emotions.

"You were brilliant," she whispered fiercely. "So fucking brilliant."

His mum was there too, pulling him into a tight hug. "We're so proud of you, love," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Jude nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The loss still stung, sharp and brutal.

Eventually, he had to tear himself away, heading to the locker room. The atmosphere was somber, heavy with disappointment. Jude showered mechanically, his mind replaying every moment of the match.

Later, Lila drove him back to the hotel. The silence in the car was punctuated only by Jude's occasional frustrated sighs.

Once in his room, the dam broke. "Fuck!" Jude yelled, grabbing a pillow and hurling it across the room. "We were so fucking close!"

He paced, a caged lion of frustration and regret. "If I'd just... if we'd only..."

From her perch on the bed, Lila watched him, her eyes soft with understanding. "Jude," she said quietly, holding out her hand. "Come here."

He hesitated for a moment before collapsing onto the bed next to her, his head in her lap. Her fingers carded through his hair, soothing.

"We were so close, Li," he mumbled, his voice muffled against her leg. "So fucking close."

"I know, babe," she said softly. "But you were amazing out there. All of you were."

Jude turned his head to look up at her, his eyes searching her face. "Yeah?"

Lila nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah. And you know what? This is just the beginning. You've got so many more tournaments ahead of you. So many more chances."

Jude let out a long breath, feeling some of the tension leave his body. "You're right," he said finally. "Doesn't make it suck any less right now, though."

Lila leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I know. But I'm here. We're all here. And we're so fucking proud of you, Jude Bellingham."

For the first time since the final whistle, Jude felt a smile tug at his lips. He lay there for a moment, letting Lila’s words sink in, her soothing presence like a balm to the raw ache in his chest. He closed his eyes, savoring the way her fingers gently ran through his hair, grounding him in the here and now, away from the chaos in his mind.

Jude turned slightly, shifting so he could meet her gaze, his face still buried in her lap. Their eyes locked, and the warmth in Lila’s gaze melted away the lingering frustration. Before he even realized it, he was reaching up, cupping her face in his hands, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek.

Lila’s lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned down, meeting him halfway as their lips pressed together in a soft kiss. It was gentle at first, more comforting than anything, but the electricity between them was undeniable. Jude’s hands slipped to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, their mouths moving together with a new urgency.

She responded just as eagerly, her hands sliding down to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers. She could feel the pent-up tension, the frustration from the game, the need to release all the emotions still bubbling just under the surface. Jude’s tongue teased hers, a low groan escaping his throat as he pulled her even closer, the heat between them building.

In no time, their movements became more desperate, their kisses fiercer as they lost themselves in each other. Lila shifted, climbing over Jude, her thighs straddling his hips as they continued to kiss, hands exploring, touching, needing.

Jude's fingers found the hem of Lila's shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one swift movement. His breath hitched as he took in the sight of her bare skin, the softness of her curves against him. He ran his hands down her back, fingers tracing the length of her spine, his touch both gentle and possessive.

But as the heat built and their clothes were discarded, leaving them bare against each other, Jude suddenly pulled back, his chest heaving, his eyes locking with hers.

“Wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, the need still simmering in his eyes. “I don’t… I don’t want to do anything tonight, Li.”

Lila blinked, her breath still coming in soft gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. “You don’t?” she asked, her voice soft, almost surprised.

Jude shook his head, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. “No,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her lips. “I just… I just want to be with you. Hold you. That’s all I need tonight.”

Lila’s heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his gaze stealing her breath. She could see it in his eyes—the exhaustion, the emotional weight of the loss still hanging heavy on his shoulders. He didn’t need more tonight. He needed her—just her, without anything more.

She nodded, her expression softening as she leaned down to kiss him again, this time slower, more tender. “Okay,” she whispered against his lips. “We’ll just cuddle.”

Jude exhaled a long breath, relief flooding through him as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down onto his chest. Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, but without the usual urgency. This was different—intimate, comforting in its simplicity.

Lila nestled into the crook of his neck, her body fitting perfectly against his as she draped an arm over his chest. Jude’s hand moved in lazy circles across her back, the steady rhythm calming both of them as they lay there in the quiet.

For the first time that night, the weight of the world lifted off Jude’s shoulders. Lila’s presence grounded him, her warmth chasing away the frustration and disappointment. He closed his eyes, his fingers continuing their slow, soothing movement along her back as they settled into the comfort of each other’s arms.

And as they drifted into the soft silence of the night, Jude realized that even though they’d lost the match, he hadn’t lost everything. He had Lila—her love, her support. And that, for now, was more than enough.

__________________________________________________________

A week later...

Jude lounged back in the dim corner of the VIP section, his fingers idly scrolling through TikTok on his phone as the bass-heavy music thudded through the club. Around him, his boys—Trent, Marcell, Toby, and Noah—were in full party mode, mingling with groups of women, downing shots, and laughing loudly over the booming beats.

The original plan had been to celebrate winning the Euros, but since the loss, this trip had taken on a different vibe. It felt like a redemption tour, a chance for him to step back, reflect, and spend time with his friends. First, they were in LA, then it was off to Miami, and after that, Jude planned to fly out to New York to spend some quality time with Lila before training camp for the upcoming La Liga season. It wasn’t the summer he'd imagined, but he was determined to make the most of it.

Chilling in the cut, Jude glanced around the club, taking in the pulsating lights and the crowd swaying to a Future track that had just come on. He wasn’t in the mood to wild out like the others. While his friends, all single, were running amuck, flirting and vibing with girls, Jude was content sipping his drink, scrolling through his phone, and keeping to himself.

Suddenly, a woman brushed up against him. "My bad," she said, her voice slightly slurred from the drinks. Jude glanced up from his phone and was immediately met with a very direct line of sight to her cleavage, on full display in a low-cut dress.

"All good," he said, his eyes flicking up briefly before he went back to his phone, chewing idly on his straw.

The music thumped louder as Future’s hit track filled the room, setting a more charged atmosphere. "You want to dance?" the woman asked, stepping closer to him, her voice competing with the music.

Jude lifted his eyes from his phone again, this time actually looking at her face. "I'm good," he replied, raising his voice over the music.

"What?" she called back, leaning in even closer, her perfume invading his space. Jude subtly stepped back, trying to create some distance.

"I said I'm good," he repeated, his voice firmer this time. "I have a girlfriend."

The woman cocked her head, her expression shifting into something more sly. "Oh?" she said, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Where is she? Is she here?"

"Nah, but still—" Jude started, but she cut him off.

"So, she just lets you go out to clubs?" The girl smirked, inching closer again. "Not a great girlfriend, especially since you’re hot."

Jude sighed, shifting uncomfortably as she introduced herself. "I’m Kate."

"Not interested," Jude shot back, trying to keep his patience in check.

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Good to know that I already know who you are, I guess. You're not a great talker. I'm just trying to say 'hi.'"

It took everything in him not to roll his eyes right back at her. He knew what this was, but there was no way he was about to mess up what he had with Lila for a one-night stand. It wasn’t even a question.

"I don’t want to talk to ya. I’m good," Jude said, stepping back even further.

Her expression soured as she pouted, almost as if insulted. "So, you don’t think I’m pretty?"

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jude thought, the ridiculousness of it all pressing in on him. Instead of entertaining her any further, he simply stood up and moved away, finding a spot in the opposite corner of their section. He sat down again, ignoring her as he resumed scrolling through his phone.

A soft ping vibrated from his phone, his notifications lighting up with a text from Lila:

Miss you 😥

Jude’s tense expression softened as he read her message. He immediately started typing back.

Miss you too, babe. Can you wait another hour so we can FaceTime?

He sent the text, glancing at the time. It was almost 2 a.m. in LA. He quickly did the mental math, realizing that it was nearly 9 a.m. in London. She’s up early, Jude thought with a grin, picturing Lila groggily reading his text from her bed.

He chuckled softly to himself, thankful for the escape from the madness of the club. The night might’ve started as a chaotic boys' trip, but he knew where he’d rather be—talking to Lila, even if it was through a screen thousands of miles away.

Lila: Of course I’ll wait up.

Before he could settle back into the comfort of scrolling through TikTok, the girl from earlier made her way back over, this time with a determined look on her face.

He barely glanced up, but she leaned closer again, clearly not getting the hint. “C’mon, are you sure you don’t want to dance?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet.

Jude sighed, feeling his patience start to slip. "I already told you, I’ve got a girlfriend. I’m not interested."

"She’s not here," the girl insisted with a smirk, ignoring the clear boundary Jude had set. "And besides, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her."

Jude clenched his jaw, annoyance flashing across his face. Before he could fire back with a more direct response, Trent suddenly popped up beside him, flashing a smile at the girl. "Hey, he's a no-no," Trent said casually, slinging an arm over Jude's shoulder. "But I'm available."

The girl’s attention shifted immediately, her eyes lighting up at Trent’s offer. She nodded and laughed, the shift in mood clear as she let out a flirty giggle.

Trent gave Jude a quick nod, signaling that their ride was here. "We’re about to head out," he said. "Let's round up the boys and go."

Jude exhaled in relief, glad for the escape, and stood up, following Trent as they gathered the rest of the guys, along with a couple of girls they’d met. Together, they made their way outside to the 'party bus' they had rented for the trip.

The vehicle, decked out with neon lights and plush seating, awaited them at the curb, the engine already purring as the driver waited. The girls squealed in excitement as they piled into the bus, while Toby immediately turned on the Bluetooth speaker, blasting some heavy beats that matched the mood of the night.

“YEAH!” the girls shouted in unison, dancing to the pounding music as the bus pulled away from the club, headed for their rented house in the Hollywood Hills.

Jude watched them for a second, shaking his head with an amused smile. Not tonight, he thought to himself as he made his way to the back of the bus, scrolling through his phone once again. By the time they pulled up to the house, he was already checked out of the night.

Their rented home sat atop the hills, a modern, multi-story villa with sprawling glass windows that overlooked the city lights of Los Angeles. It was sleek and expansive, with a pool out back and plenty of space for their crew to kick back and relax. The house exuded a luxurious charm, nestled in the quiet hills far from the noise of the city but still close enough to feel like they were in the heart of LA.

As they spilled out of the bus and into the house, Toby turned the speakers up louder, the music reverberating off the high ceilings.

"Let’s keep this going!" Toby yelled as the girls cheered, already dancing their way through the living room.

Jude laughed under his breath, shaking his head at the sight. "Yeah, I’m going to bed," he muttered, but his words were drowned out by the music. No one seemed to notice as he peeled away from the group and headed upstairs to his room.

Once inside, Jude locked the door behind him, eager for some peace and quiet. He kicked off his shoes, stripped out of his clothes, and headed straight for the shower. The hot water hit his skin, and he sighed, letting the tension from the night wash away. After drying off, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back to his room, pulling on a pair of boxers before climbing into bed.

He reached for his phone, turning off the lights as he dialed Lila’s number. It rang twice before she answered, her face appearing on the screen, lit by the soft morning light in London.

“Hey, you,” she greeted, her voice warm and a bit sleepy. “What time is it there?”

“Almost 2 a.m.,” Jude replied with a smile, settling back into the pillows. “How’s your day so far?”

“Lazy,” Lila said with a yawn, stretching. “Tolami’s coming over soon, and we’re getting our hair done. What about you? How’s LA?”

“Good,” Jude said, glancing at the ceiling. “The boys are wilding out, as usual. Toby just brought back a girl, and I think she’s already making herself at home.”

As if on cue, there was a loud shriek from downstairs, and Lila’s eyes widened at the sound. “What the hell was that?”

“Toby’s ‘little friend,’” Jude said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ew!” Lila laughed, scrunching up her nose in mock disgust. “You boys are a mess.”

Jude chuckled. “Wish you were here with me, though,” he murmured, his voice softening.

Lila smiled knowingly. “Mmmhmm, you wish I was in that bed with you.”

“That too,” he admitted, his voice low and teasing. “I can’t wait to see you in New York. I miss you so much, Li.”

“I miss you too, Judey Bear,” she replied, her tone softening. “Not long now.”

“We’re going to Disney tomorrow,” Jude added. “You want me to bring you back some Mouse Ears?”

“Absolutely!” Lila grinned. “I expect nothing less.”

They talked for a bit longer, the conversation easy and familiar, like always. Eventually, Lila yawned, stretching again. “I should get ready for Tolami,” she said, her voice still drowsy.

Jude nodded. “Yeah, I should get some sleep too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“For sure. Sweet dreams, baby,” Lila said, her smile lingering before the call ended.

Jude set his phone on the nightstand and lay back, a sense of calm settling over him. He might have been miles away from Lila, but just hearing her voice was enough to make everything feel right.

With one last glance at his phone, he closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.

TO BE CONTINUED....

[way2gosuperrstarr]

hello i have turned the princess from pmh into a magical girl-esque inspired design. it came to me in a vision and i was Compelled.

pluck my heartstrings and the princess's original design are by @pluck-heartstrings

yapping, design, close up + some process pictures under cut . yarr. goodbye forever.

iiiiii dont really know how i feel about this one rn tbh . all i can really see rn are the errors but 💀💀 i dont think its dogshit but its hitting some part of my brain thats like "hey dawg. what is that." here are the closeups ,,,,, im really happy w the hand that you can see the full back of. i kinda like the sketch more, but hey what artist doesnt feel that way about their work.

i had three intial sketches when brainstorming for the final of this; my friends told me to do the fullbody one because they really liked it, and after sleeping on it i went with that. however i am a big fan of the olive green sketch and i dont know yet if im going to repurpose that for either another princess drawing or something else entirely

hhhhhhhhere is the design in full (both shaded and unshaded). i was originally going to just leave it at that, doodling a design and leaving it be, but i really wanted to try a full illust of it so . thats how we got here. you can see some bits changed in the final piece but it stayed relatively the same. the ribbons flowing in the back arent connected to anything, except that front chest gem. that design bit is inspired by kokomi from genshin impact.

this is the first piece ive really used reference collages for; but i find that it really did help me with the process, ESPECIALLY with the posing refs for the final. it allowed me to have all the poses i thought were cool in one place so i could attempt to smash them together several times without having to flip between 6 images constantly. i would . reccommend it !

[evertomorrowart]

Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as fathers with a (teenage) reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is a young teenager (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART TWO. Hurt/comfort addition.

Folks who wanted to be tagged. @hope4rain19, @minaxcarter, @brooke-stinson, @urminebutidontwantyou, @gaipplrhot, @gyarukitti, @raphydude, @thelxapeia, @ant1d3pre55ant5add1ct, @decentsoupperson, @kawaistrawberry21.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy sighed as he stomped to your room in search of his laptop. You had been in such a rush this morning to get to school that you had accidentally left it in there. And while he always respected your wishes for him to never enter your room, he really needed his laptop. Sacrifices need be made some times.

However, as Freddy wandered into your room, he was met with a sight that literally stole his breath. Your bed was completely littered with folders and painted canvas boards. There was a large portfolio bag laying on the ground with its contents scattered everywhere. Painting and drawing utensils alike sat scattered over a table with a still wet painting taped atop.

Eyes ridiculously wide, Freddy looked around and deeply observed the area. He didn't know you owned any of this stuff. Paintings, oil canvases, drawings and sketches, and all of them were yours. And each piece looked really, really good. Freddy couldn't believe what was happening right now.

He thought you gave up on art.

Delicately picking up multiple art pieces, a happiness and sense of pride rushed through Freddy's heart, and he found himself grinning big in a mixture of relief and utter joy. You still loved art, and you were so good at it. He hadn't destroyed your passion after all. That being said though... Why would you hide this from him?

Later that day when you came home, Freddy asked you to go to the kitchen. When you went inside, you froze right on the spot. There, scattered all across the kitchen table, were multiple art projects of yours.

"Dad..." You choked, your heart racing in fear, your words stolen from you, "I..."

"I needed my laptop and uh... Accidentally found these," Freddy explained, a happy smile covering his face as he went to grab your shoulders, "Sweetie, why would you hide this from-"

"I told you not to go in there." You almost shouted, tears blurring your eyes as you pulled away from him.

"Sweetie," Freddy took a step back, hurt by your defensive attitude.

You went to the table and quickly began to gather up your art work. Freddy chased after you to try and get you to stop, "No, stop it. Don't do that- just-just wait a sec, I-"

"I get it, dad, you hate it. You've always hated my art. You-just... J-just leave me alone. Don't touch it, ok," You avoided eye contact while scurrying to protect your work, "I'll put it away."

"No, that's not what I want. (y/n). (y/n), will you please look at me. Hey," Freddy placed a hand on your shoulder and kept you from stomping off, "(y/n), look at me."

With a tense body and watery eyes, you looked at him, art work clutched to your chest and a glare covering your face.

Freddy sighed and said in earnest, "That's not what I want. Your art, I love it. I think it's beautiful an-and amazing! I-I mean, all this time? Really? I thought you gave up on it, I... I thought that I..."

Relaxing, you lowered your arms and looked him straight in the eyes. It felt like your heart had just done a summersault in your chest. "You... You mean it? You... You really like my art?"

"I love it!" Freddy exclaimed almost too quickly, "I love it so much, you have no idea. You have no idea how happy this makes me, (y/n). I thought that I ruined art for you. I... I never stopped feeling guilty about what I did. And I always hoped that one day you would start again, but..."

"Dad," You bit your lip hard in an attempt not to cry. He cared. He actually cared, and he loved your art. He was happy for you.

"Here," Freddy went to grab an old folder off the table.

Suspicious, you set down your art and went to take the folder. When you opened it, you saw dozens of old, un-crumpled papers with very distinct, familiar drawings on them. It took a minute, but you soon realized that these were the very drawings you had thrown away when you were little.

"You... Kept them?" You gaped at your dad, your heart aching in a happy/sad way.

"Of course I did," Freddy's smile wobbled a bit, "I love you and I love everything you do, and I'm so, so sorry for making you feel bad, f-for making you feel like you had to hide this from me."

Lowering the folder, you felt your lips wobble as your heart clenched in great happiness and relief. All this time you believed your dad hated your passion. He had hurt you so badly, but he regretted it. He had always regretted it, and he loved your work.

In a desperate attempt to hide your tears, you rush up to your dad and give him a big hug. Freddy held you as tightly as he could, his arms fierce and protective as he said, "Don't ever give up on your art, (y/n). No matter what, please. I love you so much."

Michael Myers

Michael had wandered out of the garage a few minutes after your friend's dad dropped you off. "Me and (friend's name) are gonna grab a snack real quick, k dad?" You had hollered while rushing into the house.

Rolling his eyes a bit, Michael approached the other man who casually got out of the car. He was grinning big at you and his own kid, seemingly proud and full of joy. "My god, man," He said mindlessly, smiling at Michael, "I tell ya, that was one hell of a game today. Whoo, and (y/n)? My god, they were great."

Puzzled and confused, Michael could only tilt his head in wonder. Game? What game?

The man shook his head and gave Michael an even more puzzled look than he himself sported, "Hey, how come I never see you at any of their games? Rough job or something?"

Michael's silence and confused expression urged the man to explain more.

"You know, the (sport) game? Just had one today- what a show I tell ya. But, I just- I never see you there, you know?"

At that, Michael's eyes went unspeakably wide. (sport)? You were playing (sport)? What? For how long? Why didn't he know about this? He thought you quit playing that when you were little. What was going on?

A week later and Michael was sitting amongst the crowd that was watching your (sport) game. You didn't know he was there. You didn't even know that he knew all your secrets like the fact that you had been playing (sport) for years, how you had won two trophies, the fact that this is where you spent most of your time at, and so on and so forth.

While watching the game, Michael couldn't help but to feel a deep sense of pride, relief and great joy at seeing how passionately you played and how much fun you were having. And you were so talented at it. The other team didn't stand a chance. You had grown so much since you were little. To this day his own actions still haunted him.

He hurt you. He 'scarred' you. And, although you continued doing what you loved, you had still felt the need to hide it from him, for years. He did that. He had made you feel so anxious and insecure that you felt the need to hide your greatest passion from him.

What kind of father does that to their child?

Unsurprisingly, your team won the game, and Michael couldn't be more proud or excited. Once the crowd and commotion calmed down, he patiently waited on you to exit the changing rooms. The way you hid yourself...

Michael gazed around at all the happy families congratulating and/or comforting their kids. It crushed his heart thinking about the sheer loneliness you expressed after the game ended and you had no one to celebrate with aside from your team mates.

When you came out of the changing room, Michael straightened his posture and faced you. It took you a minute, but eventually you looked up, saw him, and froze. A gasp escaped your mouth while your backpack fell from your shoulder to your shaken hand.

Michael's chest ached at the sight of your frightened, horrified face as you frantically looked around as if for an escape. Quickly he approached you and said in sign language, "That was a good game."

"Dad," You stepped away from him, panicked, "I-it's not what you think-I... I-I was just-I'm..."

You were scared, Michael realized, guilt beating on him like a hundred hammers. He waved his hand at you to get your attention, "Why didn't you tell me you were playing (sport)?"

"I..." You stare at him in great panic that melted into sadness and fear. You dropped your backpack and covered your face, saying brokenly, "I'm sorry, dad. I... I didn't mean to. Don't be mad, please, I-I... I'll stop playing it."

What? Micheal rushed to you and went to gently pull your hands away from your flushed face. What had he done? "No, I'm not mad. Please stop panicking. I'm not mad. Not at all."

Confused, you look at him through tear colored vision.

"I just found out you were playing (sport). You even have trophies. (y/n), why did you keep this from me?"

"Because," You winced, "You said I wasn't good at it. You... You hate me for it. I... I just wanted to be happy. I... I didn't mean to..."

He couldn't believe how upset you were, and all because he found out that you were doing what you loved. Marching up to you, Michael pulled you into a big hug that lasted for several minutes. When he noticed you calm down, he moved back a bit and explained.

"I was an idiot back then. I never should have said those things to you, (y/n). I've always felt bad for how I made you feel. You're not bad at (sport) and I never wanted you to stop playing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I made you feel this way."

You were shocked speechless, so Michael pulled you into another hug. You hugged back, relieved. He wasn't mad at you. He apologized. Everything was going to be alright.

Bo Sinclair

Bo lived in a very, very small town. Everyone knew each other and every piece of information that existed on the surface. Rumors spread and gossip filled the air like pollen. So it didn't take very long for Bo to learn that you had been practicing engineering with the car shop just down the road.

At first Bo had been ecstatic. You were still interested in engineering? He thought you didn't want to do that anymore; you said so yourself. Ever since the incident when you were little, you hadn't helped him with anything physically constructive- not even stuff as simple as hanging a picture on the wall.

Pretty much everyone praised you and said that you were doing a tremendous job. Your skill towards fixing vehicles was a natural, golden talent. You were an impressive, fast learner and everyone loved and appreciated you.

But when Bo tried to approach you about this exciting news, he was confused to hear you deny all of it. You shut his exclamations off and said that the towns people were lying. You claimed to have nothing to do with engineering. Yes, you hung around the car shop, but nothing was going on, you were just bored.

Bo didn't understand it. Why would you lie to him about this? He knew that the towns people weren't making this up- just ask the guy who took a picture of you and your buddies covered in grease while working on a truck engine. You looked so happy. Why was that something to lie about?

For the life of him, Bo could not figure out what was going on with you. Obviously you were lying to him, but he couldn't get you to explain why. It was as if you were completely and utterly avoiding him now, and it was driving him crazy.

So Bo reached out for help.

"Well," Your engineering teacher said in a tense tone, "I talked to em an' they said it's 'cause they don't wanna make ya mad."

"Huh?" Bo shook his head in exaggeration. What did that even mean?

Your teacher gave him a wearisome look, "I think they're afraid you're gonna blow a gasket on em if they do somethin' wrong. I take it that... you got a short temp?"

At that question, Bo was immediately rushed with memories of the past, and he found himself feeling overwhelmed with guilt and dread. That time he got mad at you when you were little, you didn't just give up on engineering. You gave up on everything that had to do with him. Was this why? Because you were afraid that he would get mad at you if you messed up or made a mistake?

You were afraid of his temper.

Coming to realization, Bo spent quite a while trying to figure out how he should approach you. He wasn't the best at emotions or having deep conversations. If he tried to explain himself he feared he would just say something stupid and cause you to be more upset with him.

So he waited for the perfect moment.

A couple weeks later, Bo dragged you to his shop to show you something that caused your mouth to fall open in awe. "Ram 3500, 2018. An' look at'er license plate."

Gasping the name of the state the enormous truck was from, you faced your dad with absolute excitement and disbelief, "Why's it here?"

"Ah, a little transmission trouble on the road," Bo smiled and slung an arm around your shoulder, "Nice huh? She's a beauty. Needs lotta' work, fast, an' I want 'you' to help me."

"What?" Your behavior changed drastically, "Dad-"

"Look, I've already heard all the gossip. I've seen ya work at the shop. I know you know what you're doin', (y/n)," Bo went to stand in front of you. "But what I don't understand is why ya don't wanna work with me."

"It's not... I just..." You sighed and looked at the ground, lost on what to say. A pain filled your chest as you admitted quietly, "I ain't perfect, dad, I... I make mistakes."

"And?" Bo pushed for a better answer.

His impatience and lack of understanding made you snap, "An' you can't handle that. Every time I mess up even the tiniest bit, you get mad at me. What do you expect me to do, huh? I'm only (age)."

Going silent, Bo relaxed upon learning what exactly your insecurity was. You were avoiding him because you were afraid of him getting mad at you for making mistakes. He did this. He put this fear in you, made you this way. And because of that, you were both teetering on the edge of complete life separation.

"(y/n)," Bo reached out and put a hand on your shoulder, "I'm sorry."

Your entire body froze.

"I... never meant to make ya feel this way. I know ya ain't perfect. You're still learnin' an' you've got a long ways to go, but... I wanna be there for you, (y/n). I wanna help you. I wanna watch ya grow, an' I can't do that if ya ain't around... I'm better than I used to be. So if you mess up, I ain't gettin' mad. I'm helping you, because that's what fathers do."

Shot by your dad's moving words, you find yourself staring at him for a long moment before a large smile bloomed across your face. "Right dad," You say, "Let's take a look at her."

With his heart skipping over the moon, Bo grinned and thanked the very stars themselves for this moment, and he lead you to your first shared project since you were a mere, little kid.

Hannibal Lecter

One night Hannibal got bored and lonely and decided to go to Will's house which was where you liked to spend lots of time at. He didn't mind you staying with Will, but some times he himself felt a little bit left out.

When he arrived at Will's house, he quietly made way up the stairs of the porch and temporarily paused just outside of the window. Casually peeking in, Hannibal spotted Will sitting at the dining table reading a newspaper while you stood in front of the stove in the kitchen. Your sleeves were clumsily rolled up and you had a apron on.

The motions of your arms and the state of the kitchen did not lie. You were cooking. You were quite literally cooking food right in front of him. Hannibal couldn't help but to release a small shudder of mixed emotions. It had been years since he last saw you cook- years since he demolished your feelings and forced you away from the passion you both once shared.

To see you cooking now? It made Hannibal erupt with questions and emotions. How long had this been going on? What were you cooking? Why were you cooking? How come he didn't know? Were you happy? Was this why you always spent so much time with Will?

Speaking oh whom, Hannibal watched as you handed out a spoon to which Will stood up to receive. Taking a taste of the spoon, Will made a bright face and reached out for a container of spice. You smiled, laughed and nodded, happily going to add some of the recommended spice to your dish.

Grinning, Hannibal couldn't help but to feel great pride. So, you could handle personal opinions and constructive criticism? What an astounding chef you turned out to be, and you looked so happy too.

Regaining his composure, Hannibal straightened his hair and went to knock on the door.

It took over five minutes for Will to answer.

By that time, things had grown to be rather chaotic. Now only did Will claim that you had gone to bed, but that he also was the one responsible for the late night meal.

Hannibal knew better though.

Whilst you pretended to sleep in the guest bedroom, Will and Hannibal stood in the kitchen gazing around at all your hard work.

"They told me what happened when they were little," Will said, a disappointed look on his face, "How could you say that to them, doc?"

Hannibal stared down at your unfinished dish, his heart clenching in memory of the past. "I spoke out of impulse. I didn't mean to cause them this much insecurity." To think you would go out of your way to lie to him. "How long has this affair been going on?"

"I don't know. Few years?" Will shrugged, "I was cooking macaroni one day, they asked to help and... The ship set sail, I guess."

"You reignited their flame," Hannibal huffed and smiled, "I'm grateful."

"Ever thought about apologizing?" Will asked.

"I have," Hannibal said softly, "However, they refuse to have anything to do with cooking."

"You told them that they were a horrible cook and a waste of time in the kitchen. What did you expect would happen?"

Hannibal bowed his head in shame. He hurt you, more than he had ever imagined. After all these years he believed that you had moved on and found different passions, but instead you clung to cooking and desperately sought hiding it from him because of fear. What kind of father was he to do that to you?

The next morning after the drive home, Hannibal kept you in the car to say, "(y/n). I know it was you who cooked at Wills the other night. I saw."

Having been dreading this exact conversation, you flushed darkly and turned your head away in great shame, sadness and fear. "I'm sorry."

"Please do not apologize," Hannibal cursed at himself for how anxious he made you feel, "I am more grateful than you could ever know."

That stirred a confused reaction from you.

"(y/n), you do not have to accept my apology, but I want you to promise me that you will continue to do what you enjoy, especially if it is cooking." Hannibal looked to you hopefully. "Seeing how happy you were... You have no idea how much joy it brought me. I thought I had destroyed your passion, but..."

Now completely facing your dad, your mouth was agape and your heart pounding furiously with emotions.

"I've always regretted what I said to you that day. It was rude and improper, and most certainly untrue. You are an astounding cook and I'm proud of you. I'm sorry that I hurt you, but, even if you do not wish to forgive me, I hope that you will always continue to do what you love."

Looking at your dad with watery eyes, you blinked and fought for the right words to respond with. All these years you had been terrified of your dad's wrath and disapproval when it came to cooking. He was right, he did hurt you, and the pain was still lingering inside you.

Even though what he said now brought you some form of relief and comfort, you couldn't help but to still feel a little bit of lingering hurt. "I... I need time." You reply quietly.

Hannibal nodded in understanding, "And time you shall have. I will always be here to support you."

-

If I made a part three, it could be about the reader still suffering some anxiety while doing their passion around their dad. And the slasher dads' will be nothing but happy, supportive and proud. You know, just casual comfort and fluff.