On queerness, toxic monogamy, and fandom space

Nearly a year ago now I wrote this post about bi erasure and biphobia in fandom. Lately, it’s something that has been on my mind a lot again, especially since I’ve had some new experiences with the subject. And so I wanted to expand on that post as well as talk about the way in which certain aspects of “romance culture” can and often do intersect with biphobia and the erasure of various identities in fan works.

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So I’m keeping up with @nekojitachan​ ‘s All For The Game AU fic “Armies”
And I’m not gonna say much because what’s the fun in that when you can just read it; but it does involve:
-Andrew & Neil wearing ~*Very Nice Clothes*~
-Andrew driving a ~*Very Nice Car*~
-Andrew & Neil doing~*Not So Nice Things*~.

So I wanted to draw them in some formal wear. The one in pencil was first- it was a rough start so I improved it with MORE knives. Ink was done second. <3

(I need a pair of monk-strap shoes for myself or at the very least some wingtips UGH)
(Ignore my lumpy car please.)

My Actual Art Blog
My aftg art
Post-Baltimore Scene


I felt like doing something artsy with specific colors a while back, so I made little valentine things based on various pride flags. Hopefully I got the colors right!

They are, pictured in I suppose the order you’d read a comic:

Gay, lesbian, bi, pan, ace, demi, aro, poly.

I hope you like them and I did alright!

I’d intended to post the finished version today, so I could make a 7/14 “Birthday Candles” pun.  However, this piece is not finished - and I’d like to give it some polish.  So I’ll try to post the finished version next weekend on 7/21.

Since this isn’t a Master Portrait Project one… and is a WIP, I’m not entirely sure how to tag it.

Anyway, WIP of an interpretation of Mr Candles that I’m not sure how much I hold to.  

But it’s cute.

sapphickillers  asked:

okay but Alicia being trapped in a mental asylum run by like nuns and priests coming in every day trying to "cure" her? Madison leaving her there? Nick being forced out and getting so depressed and I just-

okay but consider this counter scenario: instead of an asylum, madison invites them into her home? is complicit, if not an active participant in the whole thing? the vatican hasn’t approved an exorcism, but the local priest has heard maddie’s cries and suggests maybe their presence, their blessing will be enough to save alicia from whatever is eating at her soul?

a handful of nuns from the abbey trading out shifts to sit with her? the priest comes by each morning after daily mass for a blessing, and “cleansing” of the house.

nick comes home one day to hear alicia crying in her bedroom. tries to go inside, but there’s three nuns sitting around her and alicia’s curled up in the bed, knees to her chest, with big alligator tears falling down her cheeks.

“what the fuck are you doing???!” and “your sister needs help, nick. we’re just trying to help her.”

“she’s terrified! look at her, what the fuck” and suddenly travis’ hands are under his armpits, holding him back as he tries to kick and flail his way into the room.

a lock on the outside of alicia’s door after that. a deadbolt that locks from both sides and only madison and the nuns have copies of the key.

screaming coming from alicia’s room at all hours. loud sobbing cries for help and nick takes off on the second day because no amount of screaming at madison has made any difference?

depriving alicia of food and water? hoping that by weakening her physical vessel, the demon with unlatch? the next time nick sees her, her wrists look like birdbones and her cheeks are sunken. she no longer has the water reserves to cry. blessed baths and being held under. kicking and fighting at first, but eventually she just lets herself be held under.

hey, maybe if she dies, it’ll all just end. right?

so i just bought dream daddy and have been playing it for like an hour and i’m in love

i’m an anxious trans man who was in a ska band and is super witty?? i’ts amazing

anyway block “#shiloh plays dream daddy” if u don’t want to see the liveblogs 

i’m not entirely sure how to tag spoilers for this, but spoilery things will be under cuts as per usual

anonymous asked:

How can one get over nervous pooping?? I'm serious. I get so embarrassed and I'm at uni for 10+ hours and I can't keep holding it in. 😔

This is going to come down to three major things (imo): 

  1. Necessity. At some point, you’re just not going to have a choice and you’re going to need to find a bathroom.
  2. Finding a favorite bathroom. I know that sounds kind of weird, but that’s what I’ve always done. I find one bathroom on campus or at work and use that bathroom whenever I have a choice. Maybe it’s cleaner than the others, maybe it’s off a side hallway and doesn’t get as much noise, maybe it’s slightly out of the way and doesn’t ever have a line. Whatever your reasoning, picking a favorite lets you feel a little more comfortable in a public bathroom simply because you use it with frequency.
  3. Recognize that no one really cares what you’re doing in the bathroom. If you’re someone that does care, you need to grow the fuck up because we all know what’s happening in there and we all gotta do it at some point. It’s just a part of life. If you gotta poop, you gotta poop. No one is going to spend their day thinking about you pooping and you should not feel embarrassed for doing something that everyone has to do.

I’m not sure if this will be particularly enlightening to anyone, especially because I’m still pretty new to seriously practicing witchcraft in general, but as a scientist, I had a lot of trouble reconciling magic with my life at first. I tried to convince myself that it was just “fancy psychology” or sheer luck that the spells I cast worked, and the more I doubted, the more unbalanced I became. I felt a calling, but I didn’t know what to do with it.

I finally decided to experiment with glamour magic, the magic I was most comfortable with at the time. It was logical, I figured. I did my makeup as usual without any magic, just telling myself that I was beautiful and witty and going about my day like that. I got a few more smiles, a scrawled heart on my coffee from my barista, but nothing spectacular.

Then, I did magic. I put sigils in my foundation, charmed my lipstick, enchanted my eyeliner- you get my point, I basically blasted “SEE ME AND WEEP.” When it was all done and blended out, nothing looked out of place, but something had changed. Again, I’m new to this, and this was maybe the seventh time I had performed a glamour spell, and I’m sure it wasn’t extraordinary or any out of the ordinary when it comes to witchcraft, but my sigils had power, my lipstick had power, my eyeliner had power. And, when I walked out of my house, heads turned. It was unsettling; I felt as though I was magnetic. That wasn’t psychology. That was magic. 

I very fervently believe in magic. Still, I understand those who are having trouble with really, truly, believing. It can be hard, but it can also be so easy. While one witchling’s glamour spell might mean next to nothing, I can tell you that in a little less than half a year of practice, I have had real tangible results. Before you put magic/witchcraft down out of fear, please, please, try. Tell your brain to shut it, because it can be scary to do what you think is illogical. Or, as I did, feed your desire for the analytical. (I learned a lot of protective wards and spells that night, though, and spent a long time after that working on grounding. It really was unsettling.)

A Coliver 3x02 coda… (note: check tags for warnings) - ao3

He’d forgotten about dinner.

Oliver flipped off the burners with a flick of his wrist and, with a touch of apprehension, lifted one of the pot lids. He found that the sauce had been simmering so long it had started to crust on the sides of the pan and a check of the other pot was no better. The pasta inside was a mushy, overcooked mess.

Turning on the sink, Oliver grabbed potholders and poured the mess of pasta down the drain. He flipped the switch and let the food processor deal with the mess of it all, using a wooden spoon to shove down the remaining bits of food. The sauce followed suit and, once the processor was down pulverizing all of it, Oliver dumped some dish soap in the pan and filled it with hot water, letting the mess start to soak.

You made dinner for you and your ex. Isn’t that just darling?

Ignoring the thought, whispered in a voice that sounded entirely too much like Oliver’s own, Oliver dealt with the salad next, pulling out plastic wrap and tupperware on autopilot.

Wow, the voice whispered darkly. You really made a lot of food. Who exactly did you think was going to eat all of this? Or were you planning on sending your ex-boyfriend off each day with as kiss on the cheek and leftovers for lunch? How quaint.

Pushing the voice away again, trying to shove it deeper back this time, Oliver opened the fridge and put away the salad and leftover vegetables. And there in the door was the chilling bottle of champagne. Oliver closed his eyes and hung his head.

Doesn’t Connor have a substance abuse problem? Wasn’t buying champagne a bad idea? Or were you just too focused on pretending everything was still fine and making sure dinner was perfect that you forgot about that small detail?

Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts, Oliver let the fridge door close with a slam. Fuck it all. He’d deal with the dishes and the mess tomorrow.

He walked over to the couch and sat down. Absently picking up the remote, Oliver turned on the TV. He needing a distraction, something dumb and mindless to keep his brain from thinking so fucking loud. He flipped through a the channels and tried to watch a few minutes of something stupid on Bravo but quickly turned it off. He wasn’t in the mood for…well for anything really.

Standing, Oliver looked and walked around the room, around the space, and saw Connor everywhere.

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On Call | D.Kelly


Darcy glanced up at the clock ticking away in an otherwise silent laboratory. It was barely 1:00 p.m. and the day just seemed to drag on. She refocused her gaze on the cadaver before her. The medical examiner was currently closely investigating the pattern of lividity on the left arm which aided in the conclusion that the person had been laying on their belly with the arm tucked underneath. She quickly sketched on the pattern as they listed off directional terms. 

There was a pause in explanation, causing Darcy too look up from her the paperwork. The medical examiner squinted, perhaps debating a likely pathology but instead utter sharply “Why isn’t the music playing?” 

Uh…sorry. Let me fix that.” Darcy stuttered, three years later and the doctor still seemed to finding something she hadn’t done correctly. “Mozart or Metallica, today?” 

There was a silent nod towards the second band. Being the scribe her PPE was clean and so she quickly pressed power on the stereo, selecting the requested playlist. Discretely, she made eye contact with her partner Darren giving him an all knowing look. 

“Hmm..anyways, what was the weight of the liver again, Mr. Kelly?” She cleared her throat and prepared her pen and paper. “Isn’t that quite larger than normal?” 

My family has always been catholic and I know you think I’m just some Irish white boy, but I’m converting to hinduism! That’s how not-white I am! I feel I was hindu in a past life!
—  Junior Business Major

We don’t wear warpaint, we don’t have mohawk haircuts, and we’re not red. We’re human beings. And until we get rid of that it’s going to remain the same. We’re just going to be mascots for America’s fun and games. - Clyde Bellecourt

reject racist caricatures 

Imagine this: A Camp Pining Hearts movie gets announced. It’s a reboot because the original cast is too old to reprise their roles. Peridot is fine with this. She keeps up with the news and doesn’t see too much to worry about.

Then the first trailer gets released.

It looks absolutely awful and lacks everything appealing about Camp Pining Hearts. The writing is the worst and the set and costumes are laughable.

Peridot is torn. On one hand, she loves watching terrible movies with Amethyst and making fun of them with her. But on the other hand, Peridot loves Camp Pining Hearts and really wanted the movie to live up to the TV show. 

The movie comes out and has a horrible rating on Bruised Apples. Peridot watches it with Amethyst but it wasn’t even enjoyable garbage. There was nothing really worth making fun of.

When they get back to the barn Amethyst suggests they marathon the TV show to hopefully cheer Peridot up. Amethyst doesn’t actually like Camp Pining Hearts but is willing to put up with it for Peridot.

About eight episodes in Peridot is absolutely fuming because the movie was terrible and just starts ranting about it. At the end of her rant Peridot actually did feel a bit better. Amethyst knew Peridot was mad because she wanted the movie to be good. Amethyst decides to quote a couple scenes she found pretty hilarious. After a few quotes and re-enactments Peridot started to giggle and joined in on it.

By the end of the night Peridot’s mood was pretty lifted. She was still a bit displeased but at least could find a couple things to laugh about with that travesty of a movie.

Her and Amethyst didn’t quite finish that marathon. Steven came into the barn a few days later and found them sound asleep and cuddling with the credits to an episode rolling.