#yeah no you nailed it

[polyamorouspunk]

honestly i think it's about damn time we start promoting violence against right-wingers, even if it's just as satire. like, first of all, at this point it's self-defense - they not only promote but actively commit violence against us. tolerance is a peace treaty and they're never going to follow the rules. make them afraid to be shitty people. commit crimes* against nazis, against terfs, against politicians that pass laws that cost lives.

the biggest problem is that the legal system is biased in their favor, so people who do this have to be ready to accept the consequences and/or prepared to fight back. and those of us that can't do that need to put as much collective pressure on the legal system as we can to make the lives of those affected by the incarceral system easier and better.

if we don't want an outright genocide at the hands of these fuckers, we need to start pushing back in every direction. i will gladly admit that i am too much of a coward to risk facing the united states prison complex more than i already am by sending this ask and running the blog funny-quirky-crime-ideas, but i am more than happy to get on my feet and start pushing with every legal force i have.

i've been thinking about running for a small-scale political position, think local board of education. it's a step up from voting and even if i'm the only one there like this, i might at least be able to provide enough pushback to make somewhat of a difference. even if i don't get in at all, i can send a message.

we are here. we have always been here. we will always be here. we will fight for as long as we have to. we can't be exterminated. they can't get rid of us. so they'd better get over themselves and tolerate our existence or get out of our way, because we belong here. Queer people deserve to live. People of color deserve to live. Disabled people deserve to live. Jewish people deserve to live. Fat people deserve to live. Sick people deserve to live. Poor people deserve to live. Homeless people deserve to live.

All of us deserve to live, to thrive, to enjoy life without being forced to work for a sub-living wage in this hell-world. We all deserve better.

other people can send that message, too. i think it's about time we start working our way up the political ladder. i think leftists who feel helpless and hopeless should run for small-level government positions. the more of us there are, the louder we send that message. there are lots of low-level government positions in various areas that have nobody filling them. start with those.

if they're going to treat us like vermin to be exterminated, then let's infest their machine and act like it.

*for legal reasons this is a `joke`

Nothing to add.

[skecherss]

Maybe it's the eternally distrustful loveless child in me but idk something about the way DC has been writing familial relationships in recent years rings so false to me. There's no room for the complex, nuanced, unnamed relationships Batman and Nightwing used to have, nothing like the warped mother-daughter-sister thing Barbara Gordon and Cass Cain had, nothing like Superboy's weird obsessive hero worship/bone-deep dread of his clone fathers or Max Mercury's weary undefined protectiveness of Bart or Wonder Woman's dogged loyalty to her little "sisters". Cause — for me, at least, I know I actively seek little moments of connection in stories; when I write or when I read it is to seek comfort. I think that's why DC has made this shift. Readers like me gravitated to those little warm moments, and DC noticed that we did without stopping to think about why.

But there's a point at which I notice diminishing returns of comfort from fluffy writing — it ceases to register as real. It's too good, too saccharine, too empty of any of the pain and frustration it takes to express genuine love for the other person. It's all hand-holding and no sweaty palms. It's so easy for someone to say they love you. It's so easy to see when it's all just words. And part of this is, yeah, bad writing; all that stuff about show not tell. They're trying to tell us these characters care about each other without giving us any real proof. but. idk. I need my love to be real. I need to feel the bones behind each embrace. I can't accept affection without struggling my way into it. Honestly I'd rather get a grim gritty Batman who forgets he HAS kids until they throw themselves into the line of fire than a milquetoast helicopter Batdad who tells his kids exactly what they mean to him without actively being in a state of bleeding out.

[errorwarblesrr]

I know it's a comedy manga, but the ww manga probably has one of my favorite manga interpretations of Link. Mainly because he feels accurate to his games. He's quiet, he can talk, but he mostly just communicates his thoughts through his actions and body language. He's also just a silly little guy.

[muzzlemouths]

this thought popped into my head after reading chapter 3 aldjkfghd

GRIN WHEN I TELL YOU THIS MADE ME LAUGH UNTIL I CRIED

[welcometogrouchland]

Disgustingly messy and crusty sketch dump but I couldn't get my own terrible theory out of my head and ended up making a bunch of sketches about it. Also at the end a bonus dickbats and Damian doodle bc I was reading an issue of their Batman and Robin run (IDs in Alt)

[shaadowmilkcookie]

One of Shadow Milk’s many prop replicas of himself, left behind. Even though the eyes are forever staring straight into the distance… Oddly enough, you still feel like you’re being watched.

But surely, though, it won’t hurt to take it home and touch up the colours, right? :)

[andhumanslovedstories]

Love the commonness of the ao3 tag “obligatory gaang finds out about zuko’s scar” and its variants. You can basically hear the writer sitting down and saying, “I KNOW I KNOW BUT LISTEN, I simply had to. This path is well trod because it’s a dope fucking path to tread. Sunsets happen daily and we’re still wild about them. The sunset in this case is the baring of emotional trauma from one teen to a handful of others. Rated T because Toph says fuck”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The boy patting tournament has taken a competitive turn

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[argxstxs]

Ohhhhhhhh shiv’s face when she realized that she’s going to be cut out of the boy’s club AGAIN and this time with a baby she can’t even talk about with her husband without risking being seen as soft … Kerry being humiliated by Marcia and the rest of the family… shiv falling down in front of a room of snickering men… gerri being thrown out as easily as garbage… connor’s mom being talked about less like a human being and more as fodder for a pr campaign…

[coolsvilleprincess]

Be goth, solve crime.

Birthing this Scooby Doo specific blog with fanart for Be Cool because I needed to draw their goth fits, they were simply too much of a vibe to not tbh

[dykerikki]

do NOT separate them....

[puppyeared]

boys night

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.

And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.

Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.

(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)

[jichanxo]

roleswap au for akihana week <3

[meownotgood]

I'm not okay Riot may have cooked so hard in cunting out deathsworn Viktor THE HIP WINDOWS

anon... I want you to know your ask is what made me realize he has hip windows, when I went to check the skin after u sent this I fell to the floor instantly. exactly like image attached. haven't stopped thinking about it since

[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.