#u run out of things to do

[b4kuch1n]

study of this masterwork

[scary-monsters]

as a diego artist i felt it was crucial that i do my own take on the flag panels ☝🤪 next time i'll make him look as pathetic and lost as he actually did in canon

[strawberri-draws]

shuichi posting

[bacchuschucklefuck]

dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

[jadewritesficshere]

Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[smoosnoom]

every few months or so i get the urge to rewrite that entire s3 mall scene with mike, lucas, and will to instead have will wander off and run into max and el where they have a far more enjoyable and lovely day, leaving mike and lucas to their supposed heterosexual activities

[possibilistfanfiction]

CaitVi prompt: hugs

[ok s/o the one person who wanted a climbing au lmao. this rly isn't abt climbing, it's just a silly meet cute thru jinx's pov. i love sisters ur honor! also idk jinx is a cooler name than powder so that's what we're going with lol. incredibly minimal angst :)]

//

keep your helmet on this; finish dressing your knot that; vi triple checks the number of quick draws you have on your harness — ‘i have twelve, and there’s only nine bolts, vi,’ you say again— while you roll your eyes so hard your whole head moves. she sighs, as marginally satisfied as she ever manages to be when you’re leading anything. 

‘okay,’ she says, checking her grigri carabiner for, like, the fifth time. 

‘okay.’ you roll your eyes once more for good measure before you establish on a truly disgusting set of crimps. ‘climbing.’

vi gives a very serious, ‘climb on,’ and since she can’t see you anymore, you let yourself smile. even though she’s annoying and hates when you take victory whips — your favorite — you do love her: she takes your life seriously. 

the route is gross, overhung with tricky feet and big moves, but vi had lead it just before you and made it look pretty easy, even though it’s her style and definitely not yours. still, you’re not going to back down from a challenge, even though admittedly she’s way stronger than you: you’re light and unafraid of falling, which sometimes evens the playing field. 

you yell out anchor and then take just like you’re supposed to once you finish the route, refusing to shake out your arms even though you’re pumped as hell, and vi lowers you smoothly. you expect her to have her utmost, full attention on you, but when you turn to talk about your beta as you undo your knot, you see vi very quickly get off belay and then take her fleece quarterzip — a black patagonia which had been your best thrift find of the past year, in your opinion — off in an almost frantic, decidedly uncool way. it’s even more ridiculous because it’s freezing and all vi has on under her jacket is her favorite ‘queer crush’ tank from your gym. she smiles in your direction — a small, proud one — but then her grin turns shy and she looks at someone else. 

the someone else in question, a few feet away, gearing up, is, admittedly, hot — you gotta give vi that.

she has dark hair that manages to look chic even under her helmet, pants actually designed for climbing, and an arcteryx down jacket — the right weight for the fucking weather, at least — and even her chalk bag and shoes look kind fancy; you notice a pair of very neat camp slippers sitting next to approach shoes you could only dream of, the socks in them in a neat little ball. 

‘caitlyn,’ she says to you, offers her hand in a firm shake — not a customary fist bump — before she ties in anywhere or chalks up. you’re kind of confused why she’s walking toward the start, but you introduce yourself anyway as you pull the rope.

‘cait is going to clean the route,’ vi explains as caitlyn ties in, another smile exchanged. ‘her climbing partner is peeing, so i offered to belay if she wanted to lead it.’

it’s a pretty gnarly 12a, and also vi never lets you clean anchors, mostly because you don’t think all the steps with a PAS are necessary and you take victory whips without announcing them first, but whatever. it’s boring anyway.

caitlyn and vi go through the most intense safety check, joyously, almost, vi practically giggling when she looks at caitlyn’s figure 8, her hand hovering over caitlyn’s waist when she checks the loops on her harness, and you sit with a huff on a small rock near enough the route you can watch. 

you do everyone the profound kindness of staying quiet until caitlyn clips into the first quickdraw and vi very officially says, ‘you are on belay, cupcake,’ but then you’ve had enough. 

‘cupcake?’

‘she’s sweet,’ vi says, concentrating more on belaying than she ever has in her life with you. you’re not stupid, so you can tell she’s really just trying to avoid you seeing her blush. 

‘sure, sis.’ you watch as caitlyn does a pretty sick high foot to hand match and mantles calmly; vi shouts some encouragement. ‘did you get hot belaying me?’

‘what?’

‘very smooth, showing cait your best asset right away. thanks for waiting until i was done, at least.’

vi scoffs. not convincing at all. ‘the wind has gone down.’

‘we’re in a slot canyon.’

caitlyn sails past the crux, incredibly technical and very calm. it’s unfortunately impressive. 

‘nice, cait!’ vi shouts. ‘that was sick!’

caitlyn, to your dismay, pauses after she clips into the next quickdraw — your least favorite hold on the whole route, a terribly chalked up sloper — and turns to give vi a thumbs up. 

you groan, long and drawn out, and flop onto your back while vi laughs. you’re no stranger to girls falling all over themselves to impress your sister, but this is one of the few times where one of them has actually been impressive. 

when you sit up, a guy who was watching caitlyn climb looks at you and laughs, immediately somehow in on it all, you can tell. 

‘i was gone for, like, ten minutes,’ he says. ‘cait already found a new partner?’

‘in more ways than one,’ you bemoan. you offer a fist bump, correct and cool climbing etiquette, not some stupid handshake. ‘that’s vi, my sister. and i’m jinx.’

‘jayce,’ he says, then looks up. ‘is cait cleaning the anchor?’

‘guess so.’

‘i wanted to climb that route.’ he’s definitely pouting, which you never do because it’s extremely undignified, obviously. 

‘you snooze, you lose, i guess.’ you shrug. ‘plus, i think they’re both just trying to impress each other. horrible. worst thing to happen today.’

‘i took a whip on slab,’ he says, shows you a scrape on his palm. ‘so maybe second worse.’

‘nah,’ you wave him off. ‘big whips are the best, most fun part of climbing.’

he looks at you like you’re crazy, which, like, you certifiably are, but even your therapist thinks that climbing with vi — and therefore with a lot of gear and safety checks — is good for getting your “intrusive impulses” out without too much danger. could be worse, you always tell her, because it has been. 

you don’t let yourself dwell on that, though, not out here on a cold, beautiful day, your hands stinging a little in the best way, the sun sinking just slightly. vi might be annoying and so, so gay, but she’s your favorite person in the world, hands down. for now, it’s okay. 

caitlyn calls for slack and then quickly and neatly cleans the anchor, and vi lowers her carefully while she takes the quickdraws out. they’re, like, basically about to kiss, you’re pretty sure, when caitlyn gets to the bottom, before she even unties her knot. 

‘that was amazing,’ vi says, full of genuine awe, as if the both of you didn’t also just lead that route. when caitlyn brushes her hand against vi’s — in thanks, you guess — vi blushes hard enough even you can see it. you’re relieved for her, honestly, when caitlyn’s cheeks are the same shade of pink.

and so the day goes like this: caitlyn sails up a run-out slab route vi had sworn off every other time you’d come to the crag, mostly because she’s so strong she hates slab and it’s truly heinous — the best route here, in your opinion — full of mono pockets and the tiniest foot jibs. it’s kind of embarrassing to watch vi tremble her way up, especially after she lets you lead it after caitlyn, but you actually do belay her carefully and caitlyn and jayce both shout encouragement. vi sends it, even though she’s a total baby and asks you to take twice. jayce — also really strong; also terrified of slab, which makes you laugh — and vi convince caitlyn to end on another overhang, exhausting and pumpy, and you only agree to do it too because you know vi won’t care as much if you fall on it. you send it first, take a giant whip off the top that you know vi will be annoyed at you for, but when she lowers you the rest of the way, she just smiles and taps the top of your helmet.

‘you’re getting so strong, jinx,’ she says, the easy, heartfelt compliment making you feel all warm inside. vander and ekko insist that you’re kind like vi, that you share the same big heart, and sometimes you think they might be right.

‘great job,’ caitlyn agrees, happily and without anything underlying, and jayce echoes the sentiment too. all day they’d both asked you thoughtful and caring questions about your studies, jayce especially excited when you told him you were going to school for mechanical engineering, and about your friends, your hobbies, books and music you’ve enjoyed lately.

kindness is too much for you, sometimes, especially when it’s easily given and true, so you duck off and set about pulling and coiling the rope; gathering the rest of the gear split into your packs — vi’s, of course, much heavier whenever you’re in charge.

still, she stops her flirting — caitlyn is talking about how she’s a doctor, or something, and vi wipes her sweaty face with the bottom of her tank before finally putting her jacket back on, then telling one of her bravest firefighter stories — to say, ‘thanks for doing all of this, sis,’ sincerely before shouldering her pack.

‘don’t mention it,’ you grumble, trudging out of the canyon back up toward your cars. the approach is short but steep, so thankfully they’re mostly quiet. but as you load everything up — yours into vi’s old bronco that you’d both fixed up with vander; caitlyn’s into a brand new forester with every “wilderness” add-on you could possibly think of — they exchange numbers with the promise to climb again soon, both indoors and at another of your favorite crags too. you’re sure caitlyn climbs at one of the fancy gyms in town, one that you can only afford a membership to because vi is a first responder and you’re a student, and even then just barely. 

horrifically, maybe the worst part of the day, is that caitlyn looks unsure for a moment but then opens her arms, and vi enthusiastically, and softly, hugs her for an amount of time that's way too intimate for having just met a friend at the crag. you’re a nice person after all, it turns out, because you don’t make a single gagging noise. you do catch jayce’s eye, though, and he lifts a brow, fighting a laugh. you duck your head, but it makes you smile too. 

they longingly wave goodbye one last time, and then vi glares at you when you start to laugh as she pulls out of the spot and onto the dirt road out of the canyon, flooring it a little more than necessary. 

‘hey,’ you say, ‘why are you all —' you motion to her, the furrow in her brow and the downturned corners of your mouth.

she slows down, taking the next turn and rut in the road carefully, like usual. ‘i just — i don’t even know if she’s queer, first of all.’

‘other than, like, her expertise at pockets —‘

‘— jinx—‘

‘— and the fact that she was all over you for, like, three hours, she had a trans flag on her helmet,’ you offer, taking a little pity on vi. ‘and she drives a subaru.’

vi sighs. ‘she’s — i mean, you can tell. wealthy and smart and gorgeous. i’m, well —‘

‘hot and kind and also smart?’

for someone who’s always bugging you about accepting compliments, she’s terrible at it. you know she holds a lot, feels inadequate in so many ways, because she couldn't save your parents, and because she was incarcerated, and because you grew up poor, and because she can't fix everything for you all the time.

‘look, i don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for you,' you tell her honestly; it's important. 'especially some idiot who wears arcteryx.’

vi laughs; you don’t mention that it’s a little watery with tears.

‘you save people for a living. your muscles are insane. you help me with school, and refilling my meds, and you always pay rent on time, and we can even eat out now, whenever we want. you’ve read, like, seventy books this year. you like podcasts about nature, which i only know because you make me listen to them with you while we drive anywhere.’

it’s quiet — no podcast, not just now — for a minute or two, but then vi nods.

‘i guess you’re right.’

‘i’m always right. i’ve literally never been wrong.’

‘shut the fuck up.’

you laugh, delighted, and put your socked feet on the dash just so vi can swat them off. 

‘so, anyway, do you wanna tell me more about how caitlyn being perfect at pockets made you feel, or…’

‘i will throw you out of this car.’

‘you’d never.’

‘i might.’

you laugh; when she pulls onto the paved road you take her hand in yours, lace your fingers together, put on a song you love that she hates. she rolls her eyes but sings along anyway.

[fefairys]

so ive been playing the L death note ds game and the L communicator mode is so funny. Literally all you can do is feed him treats and make him say random lines at you. to restock treats you have to wait on the blank menu screen for five minutes at a time for watari to bring more food.

konami said u will keep your ds open on this blank screen for hours just to feed a fake L death note treats so that he'll tell you he loves you.

and you know what i am. i had to pause in the middle of writing this because watari came back with more food.

[inkskinned]

it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.

like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips

because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.

bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.

and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.

these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?

and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.

in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.

it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.

and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.

"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."

"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."

[sukibenders]

To me personally, R*ck could've done more for Percy's and Nico's relationship better than just the "You're not my type." Not only because it just felt like a rush fill-in for closure and not even being true, and the irrepetible damage it did to the fandom who wore the line out among many other things, but also because it felt so lackluster (but many things in HOO felt that way). Like R*ck could've done so much more with these two and their history rather than just brushing it off with this dumb line and Percy being confused in the end like he had any control over the situation. R*chard, I'm in your walls!

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[bacchuschucklefuck]

official finish-this-sketch-how-you-want post idk what to call thisSAMPLE TEXT

hi! I miss drawing with people in a café and some folks mentioned they'd like to mess with my sketches themselves and that sounds cool so this is now a thing. if u play gartic phone this is basically the complement mode! but without the fucking ring noise that freaks you out right when you're getting into the flow of it

few things are 1/there's no hard deadline! take this at ur own pace if u do, but 2/I'll also be finishing this sketch and I estimate it to take around uhh 3 to 4 days? from the time this is posted. so if that's a structure u like then let's aim for something done in that timespan as well! and 3/if u finish ur piece and post it and want me to see it the best way to do that is to @ this blog! above all we go into this one determined to have fun and enjoy. I already bought u a matcha latte with oat milk sorry if u don't want that

here I got u today a sketch that's supposed to be Riz Gukgak (SY) (grey bg version and transparent version for ur ease of peruse)

remember to have fun & be urself & finish ur drink & see u in 4 or 5

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[thoughtsofananon]

Could we get an avoid? You choose which flavor

help there’s been a shadow guy rotating in my mind constantly for (checks the date) FIVE MONTHS.

I exploded in the tags

[degenerateshinji]

THEY. THEY. THEY.

[sweetlullabyebye]

They said 'hypocrisy who'