This hyperfixation has me by the throat I need more emo boys from pokemon
Just some doodles but I am biting the screen chewing on cartridges I need more pokemans
never, ever, stop fighting back
im actually really proud of this art it took me five million years to do 💪
Happy May 4th!!
remember kids
Artist 🎨: @vhsdogs
A round-up of old friends
"Perhaps a lesser-known gift of Kenobi's was his ability to listen."
(AU where post-banishment Ahsoka gets zapped back to TPM, strapped with a fundamental distrust of the Jedi, an apocalyptic vision of the future, and a mandate to help Anakin Skywalker. So, in all this, it's nice to have a confidant.)
edit: link to the fic
People who are oppressed and traumatized die several deaths and are reborn multiple times. Mickey 17 is Mickey Barnes' greatest desire to live. Mickey 18 is Mickey Barnes' deep rage and violence; his reaction to being continuously ground under the boot of the higher class. No one can be expendible, because none of us are made to be expendible, yet some lives are treated as expendible. Some lives have less value than the upper class' "taste". 18, in the end, regains power through self-sacrifice—this is the extent of what he can do to free 17, his purest, most child-like desire to live. The traumatized fight back eventually; 17 channels 18 when he dreams of the wife printing herself and her husband, when he sees the bowl of blood (where did it come from? Who did she kill?) and this is his nightmare because he feels like his new found freedom is once again at risk; that he once again needs to be brutalized by tragedy. But he knows he has to resist and he finds strength in 18. "Fuck off". This movie has such heart and is a tribute to those of us who are crushed by the ones above them with more money; more power. Robert's portrayal of 17 is beautiful and personifies the best of humanity. It's just so well made and earnest and I'm so disappointed that so many of the reviews seem to have completely missed the point, instead failing to find satisfaction in some superficial perception of what makes a movie artsy.
Fett and his dark side boss
Old man yaoi VS Doomed yaoi
I wrote something! It’s been forever since I’ve felt well enough to write for fun. Just a quick opening for a possible A/B/O stony story. ROUGH DRAFT!!!
Steve shifted the squirming four-year-old on his hip and practically ran up the steps of the school. He was breathing hard and his heart was constricted in a way that told him he was overreacting but he had never been called down to Grant’s school before. He was only 6 for God’s sake! He turned the corner into the office and almost barreled into another man.
“Whoa, gorgeous, not the most appropriate place to get me on my back.” Brown eye sparkled at Steve in mirth. For a moment Steve’s brain stuttered at how pretty the man’s eyes were. They reminded him of a brown tourmaline gem he’s once seen. Then the man’s words caught up to him and Steve felt his whole face turn red.
“Hello, mister!” Nicky shouted as he bounced on Steve’s hip.
“Well, hello, handsome.” The other man held out his hand as if he was going to shake Nicky’s hand. Nicky grabbed the one with both of his and gave an enthusiastic shake. The man huffed a laugh and smiled, his eyes lighting up as he gazed at Steve’s son. Steve stopped breathing.
“Ah, Mister Rogers, you’re here. Please will you and Mister Stark come in, you can leave Nicky with Martha, if that’s alright.” Steve looked up at the principle as he poked his head out of his office and waved them in. Hesitantly, Steve handed Nicky over to the secretary and told him to be good. Nicky gave him a petulant look and then turned to the doting woman. Steve rolled his eyes and followed the beautiful brunette – Mr. Stark – into the principal’s office.
Just in the door he paused when he saw his oldest son sitting in one of the chairs before the principal’s desk. His dark brown eyes widened when he spotted Steve and he jutted he jaw out in a determined look that was so reminiscent of pictures of Steve himself that he could just hear his mother laughing at him.
“Could you close the door Mister Rogers?” The principal – Mr. Harrington – asked as he sat at his desk. Dutifully Steve closed the door before sitting in the remaining seat.
Grant was just to his right and was now looking at something on Mr. Harrington’s desk like he could set it on fire with his glare. Mr. Stark was to his left, relaxed and somehow looking bored. Partially hidden behind Mr. Stark was another boy about Grant’s age sporting a black eye. Steve felt his jaw clench and he did his dandiest to calmly turn to face the principal without turning a “what did you do?” glare on his son. Six, the boy was six! In first grade!
“I’m sorry to call you gentlemen into the school but it was necessary since Grant and Howard –. “
“Howie.” The other boy spoke up, interrupting Mr. Harrington. Steve raised his eyebrows at the boy and noticed that Mr. Stark had turned to the boy as well so Steve couldn’t tell what look he was giving Howie.
“Ahem, my apologies, young man.” Mr. Harrington nodded to the boy meaningfully. “Grant and Howie got into a fight during the lunch period. It seems a couple of older kids tripped Howie. Grant took offense to their behavior and Howie responded to his bulling by physically attacking them.”
“If Howie was defending himself and Grant was defending someone else, where is the problem?” Mr. Stark spoke up. Steve’s eyes widened at the gall. He might agree to a degree but fighting shouldn’t be the first response!
“Mister Stark – “
“Come on, you can call me Tony, you’re Roger, and this luscious beefcake is -?” Mr. Stark – Tony – had turned those bright brown eyes on Steve, a hint of humor mixed with seriousness.
“Of course, Tony Stark, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, Tony.” Roger made introductions looking sheepish for not doing it earlier.
“Steve, a pleasure.” Tony gave Steve a smile that curved up higher on one side and made his hackles rise. He felt like he was being challenged, or the butt of a joke, and he narrowed his eyes at the other man.
“Now, Tony, violence is never the answer. Teachers saw Howie get tripped and were on their way to intervene. And if all that it escalated to was some bruised knees and egos I wouldn’t have felt the need to call you in. However, one of the kids had to be taken to hospital.”
Steve groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He heard a humming noise and then Tony spoke up. “How exactly did that happen?”
“Max punched Howie so I hit him in the face with my tray!” Grant yelled. “If they weren’t bullies nuthin’ would have happened!” Steve’s head whipped up and he was on the edge of growling at his son, but the moment he saw his son he could see Grant’s thin body vibrating in his seat and tears in his eyes. Carefully, Steve leaned over and plucked the panicked boy out of his seat and settled him onto his own lap, tucking the boy’s head against his collarbone.
“I think I understand what I need to, Roger. How long until he can come back to school?” Steve asked. Roger steepled his fingers and seemed to realize explanations were over.
“Four days are sufficient, so just the rest of the week.”
“Thank you, I think I’ll take my kids home now.”
Steve stood up just now noticing that Tony had been quite through the last few minutes. His eyes met the other man’s who was watching him with an expression Steve couldn’t quite place. But that could be more because Steve was starting to feel more than a little drained from the events of the day. Roger and Tony said their goodbyes as Steve left the office, still carrying Grant.
On the floor in the front office Nicky was playing with some wooden peg puzzles. As Nicky put away his toys and said thank you to the secretary Steve was left in a predicament. Nicky was in a clingy phase and always wanted to be carried. But Grant was nearing a panic attack which could cause an asthma attack so Steve wanted to keep soothing him.
“Need some help, Steve?” Steve turned as Tony came up, Howie by his side. Tony had a soft smile for Steve and a hand draped around Howie’s shoulders. Nicky seemed to remember Tony and ran up to him immediately.
“Hello, mister!” Nicky giggled and held up both hands to shake again. Tony obliged, turning his full attention to the four-year-old.
“What’s your name sweetie?” Tony squatted down, headless of the immaculate suit he was wearing.
“Nicky. You smell pretty.” Steve should have been prepared for that. Nicky commented on everyone’s scents. Tony seemed taken aback for a second before recovering.
“Why thank you.”
“Sorry about that. He’s been told that’s not polite.” Steve was embarrassed beyond belief but Tony’s smile was reassuring. But in the moment that passed when the two adults took their eyes of the little boy he had moved on to Howie.
“You smell real pretty to.” Nicky cooed with his nose all but shoved into Howie’s neck. Howie was trying to bend away from the younger child without taking a step and had a panicked look on his face.
“Dad?” Howie asked, his blue eyes wide.
“Nicky! Stop that!” Steve was horrified, but Tony just laughed before swinging Nicky onto his hip.
“Have some boundary issues, don’t you bud?” Tony stared down the boy who only giggled at him and started babbling on about the strange hair on Tony’s face. “Lead the way, Steve.”
Steve stared at Tony holding his son and felt a strange warmth in his chest. A sniffle from his chest spurned Steve into action and he led the way outside. Tony followed, carrying Nicky and holding onto Howie with his free hand. At his truck, he loaded Grant into the back seat, and turned to take Nicky from Tony. Nicky had a disgruntled expression on his face and arms tightly wrapped around Tony’s neck. Tony’s face was bemused as he waited to see what Steve would do.
“Howie and Tony come too.” Nicky was in full demand mode and Steve was starting to wonder if hearing his mother laughing at him was a sign of insanity.
“No, Nicky. We are going home and Tony and Howie are going to their home.”
“Since no school or work, we can all go to our home.”
“That would be a good point, Nicky, but I do have to go back to work.” Tony spoke up. Nicky turned his brown eyes on Tony and squinted them as he seemingly reassessed the situation.
“We’ll take good care of Howie till you stop work.” Was Nicky’s resulting declaration. Tony laughed.
“Young man, you can’t make demands and decisions for others. You and your brother are in trouble. I’m sure Tony can take care of his son.” Without waiting for a response from Tony or Nicky Steve plucked his child out of the other man’s arms and had him buckled him in his booster seat with a speed designed to thwart attempts to flee.
“Wow. I’m impressed.” Tony whistled.
“Mister Rogers, here’s Grant’s backpack.” Howie suddenly spoke up, getting Steve’s attention.
“Oh, thank you, Howie. I didn’t even think about it. Are you okay?” Howie had been very quiet through the whole ordeal and even though Steve didn’t know the boy he wanted to make sure he was okay.
“Oh, yeah. It was pretty awesome when Grant hit Max with the tray.” Steve frowned and ignored Tony’s huff of laughter. Howie didn’t notice, though, as he was peering around Steve into the open car. Grant had curled in on himself as soon as Steve had put in the cab. “When we’re not in so much trouble can we hang out at your place or ours?” Howie glanced between Steve and Tony.
“I don’t have a problem with that. Not in the least.” Tony said with a wink in Steve’s direction. Steve felt his face heat again.
“That will be fine.” Steve nodded. A squeal of delight came from the cab followed by something that sound appalling like ‘goodbye pretty flower’ from Steve’s youngest. Mortification was not a strong enough word for what Steve felt.
Thinking about the Bad Parents this episode because like, imagine your child, who's constantly burdened with the fate of the world, comes to you after school and says it's not enough. That they have to take the Last Stand exam and it's tomorrow. You have no time to take time off work to be with them, to be able to wait for them when they get home.
And then the next day you say goodbye in the morning, you kiss them on the head and tell them you love them. But you know that the next time you see them they will have died. You know that all the day you're at work, your child is fighting for their life in a drastic last stand. How do you focus with that knowledge? How do you move on, wondering if your child is already dead? That while your working or doing chores, your child could be lying on a sandy flood, dead, while all their friends fight for their lives?
How do you move past it? How do you live out that day?