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Greek Mythology art by IrenHorrors!

Nyx, Hecate, Selene, Artemis, Melinoe, Hades and Persephone, Athena, Aphrodite, Thanatos.

Yesterday my little brother told me something very sweet and touching, that when he was a kid and had nightmares about monsters chasing him or whatever he would be able to end the nightmare by finding me in the dream and I would protect him by fighting off the zombies, or carrying him away. This is adorable, and makes me feel like the greatest older sibling in the world, but the hilarious thing is that when I was a kid I had nightmares of needing to save him from zombies and such. so many dreams where he was in trouble and I needed to save him. Like my nightmares began where his ended. Low key I think he mastered the ability to psychically transfer his nightmare to me as a child and I'm kind of annoyed with him.

Season 1 Stiles: expresses his feelings to Lydia

Season 1 Lydia: stays with Jackson

Season 2 Stiles: hints to Lydia at how he likes her

Season 2 Lydia: tells Jackson she loves him

Season 3a: panic attack kiss

Season 3a Stiles: doesn't mention the kiss again and moves along like nothing happened

Season 3a Lydia: hooked up with random guy, doesn't mention the kiss again and Aiden tells her he knew she liked him while she smiles at him

Season 3b stiles: sleeps with Malia, barely shares screen time with Lydia except for the last couple episodes

Season 3b Lydia: hooking up with Aiden again

Season 4 Stiles: is with Malia and barely shares screen time with Lydia

Season 4 Lydia: doesn't show much attention to stiles and starts voluntarily hanging around Parrish

Season 5a stiles: still with Malia, breakup out of nowhere, focused on having killed someone

Season 5a Lydia: hanging with Parrish helping him embrace who he is while working on her own powers, sitting in eichen, shows her feelings for Parrish by touching his hand (confirmed by Jeff)

Season 5b Stiles: working on bringing the pack together again, working on Scott and his relationship, 1 episode with stiles "saving" Lydia (lol bullshit), doesn't show any romantic feelings for Lydia , tries to fight the desert wolf for Malia

Season 5b Lydia: after the rescue doesn't pay much attention to stiles, stays with Parrish the entire episode after that, shows a lot of concern for Parrish, banshee and hellhound connection

Season 5b: ends with Lydia and stiles as only friends who have shown no romantic interest in each other

Season 6a stiles: REMEMBER I LOVE YOU

Season 6a Lydia: THE KISS IS WHEN IT ALL CHANGED, I NEVER SAID IT BACK, I THINK I LOVED HIM, WHEN I KISSED YOU *cries hysterically*

Stydiots: it's a slow burn

Me: error 404 not found

Videos like this make me happy that I’ve never really liked the taste of bacon/pork in general

(via)

This is hilarious 🤣🤣

twilight au where smeyer is inserted into the world of her self-insert: or, who killed bella swan?

that fateful day at forks high began like all days at forks high did: by being described in excruciating, slow-paced detail.

today was no exception. after having a nightmare, bella got up, greeted the vampire in the corner (she was very observant), had a human moment, ate pop-tarts, slipped on a patch of ice, & scrabbled to her truck.

but today didn’t feel like a normal day. not bc the classrooms were empty or bc posters had been pasted up around school announcing a new student. instead, bella’s observant, effervescent mind made her feel this narrative setup in her bones. it was almost as if bella had the qualities of a third-person omnipresent narrator instead of a regular teenage girl.

sure enough, as soon as she stepped into the buzzing cafeteria, mike clasped a hand around her shoulder. “hey, bella!”

as you could probably guess by now, mike was in love with bella. she was an arizona girl that liked the rain. since girls from dry places didn’t like wet places, bella was not like the other girls.

“you’re just in time,” he continued. “the new girl’s about to arrive.”

bella chewed her lip. “oh. new girl?” she just had a nightmare about a girl, so it was weird that there was a new girl, just like in the nightmare she had. it was almost like bella was narratively  set up to have the power of premonition. almost.  

after rejecting several of mike’s sexual advances w/ patience & deference (as a good woman should), her eyes caught her statuesque white vampire bf from across the cafeteria.

today, edward’s eyes were a dandelion lemon starburst honeydew mangalope yellow, her favorite color. he wore a sleeveless white button-up that complimented his white undead face.   in one hand he held a red apple which he kept with him at all times in case an allusion to christianity or greek mythology popped up.

bella bit her lip, yearning to raw dog this edwardian gentleman.

“hey edward,” she said, going for a kiss & getting rejected, “did you catch the thoughts of the new girl yet? everyone’s talking about her. i think something’s up.”

but on the other end of the table, alice flailed around with a permanent marker, scribbling on a lunch tray.

edward gazed at the apple as if it were a symbol symbolizing his crisp, sweet desire for forced symbolism. “you’ve nothing to worry about,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“wait a sec. alice is having a vision,” bella said, eyes narrowing. “something’s up.”

“you’re too stubborn & observant for your own good,” edward murmured, looking angrily down at the apple. “like eve observing the serpent in the garden of eden.”

“she has incredible power; i can see it,” said alice, still flailing & seeing. emmett leaned over to glimpse her work. “& her name is stephenie…meyer?”

emmett said, “anyone else feel like alice’s drawing looks like joseph smith?”

& as if on cue, she entered.

bella’s mouth dropped open. a rush of estrogen washed over her. “holy crow,” she whispered.

with her brown hair & brown eyes & brown lashes & plain-but-beautiful face, only their fashion choices separated bella from the new girl. while bella wore a t-shirt & khaki skirt, stephenie dressed less like a feminist whore with her floor-length white maxi skirt, ivory turtleneck & beige cardigan. she also didn’t wear makeup. she was not like the other girls.

“persephone,” murmured edward, golden molten butterscotch honey topaz eyes glittering.  

she was gorgeous in a heterosexual way, like how bella felt about rosalie. like, so attractive bella could cry. but only because bella was insecure about her looks, not bc bella was gay or bi or whatever haha

bella touched his white forearm. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

“not you,” murmured edward. “stephenie meyer. the angel, come to hell. she’s as beautiful as you, my love.” bella’s heart melted. he lovingly rejected her kiss.

“she’s a god,” said alice, eyes shifting. “i can see it. she controls the universe. she’s rich, mormon, & fulfills her domestic duties just as a good woman should. i’m 100% straight but stephenie meyer would be my dream girl, hands-down.”

bella’s blood froze. wasn’t bella supposed to be alice’s vaguely homoerotic girl friend??

emmett’s eyes narrowed. “anyone else think she looks weirdly like bella?” but rosalie was too busy admiring her reflection in the face of her pearlmaster 39 diamond rolex watch w/ 18ct white-gold index dial & diamond-set oyster band, edward was ruminating over his soul, alice was still flailing, & jasper was daydreaming about licking daddy jefferson davis’ boots like the spineless confederate he was, yee haw

so only bella heard. panic bubbled in her chest. “what? stephenie meyer looks nothing like me.”  

at the sound her name, stephenie’s eyes locked on the cullens’ table.

edward’s sexy pale white hard marble triple-double-diamond vampire bod crumpled to the floor.

“edward, what’s wrong?” asked alice. she was concerned about edward because he apparently had redeemable traits that made the cullens care deeply for him, it’s just not relevant to bella’s story

“oh, god,” edward moaned in a murmur. “she’s reciting the word of god.”

the ripe, juicy, succulent, voluptuous red apple had smashed to bits in his clenched fist. this symbolized edward willing to do anything & everything to destroy his temptations so long as it fell within the confines of a PG-13 storyline.

“i’ve got to marry her,” he murmured possessively.

“if i wasn’t a product of stephenie’s festering insecurities, i would say she’s as pretty as me,” snarked rosalie. “but i’m too vain & catty for that.”

bella’s knees wobbled at rosalie’s voice. visions of rosalie stepping on her neck blipped through bella’s mind, which was def a real thing that could happen bc rosalie was an absolute goddess of a vampire with heels higher than the empire state building & thighs thicker than the brooklyn bridge, heterosexually speaking

“right?? if you put bella & stephenie next to each other, the only difference would—” emmett couldn’t finish his sentence bc all the cullens sans edward had a medical condition that prevented them from saying more than 25 words per 400 pages of text; it’s very common, you can google it

“we are not the same,” said bella, her voice rising. “edward, please! we don’t dress the same, act the same—you know we aren’t the same, don’t you?!”

edward turned broodingly to bella. “do you believe in god, my love?”

“i don’t know.” all bella knew of religion was her mother’s fad diets. “i’m either a keto or a lutheran. do lutherans have gods?”

“all my life i thought i was a soulless monster,” murmured edward. “& we could get into a thematically relevant debate about what it means to have a soul, but the detailed account of your morning has made it impossible for me to make a compelling case without sacrificing important exposition, so let’s forget i brought it up after this conversation. the point is, i’ve discovered i do have a soul. & she has given it to me.”

“wh-what are you trying to say??” said bella. “what does she have that i don’t?!”

“thoughts,” murmured edward. “not her own thoughts, but—”

“all she does is recite scripture!”

“she doesn’t just recite scripture,” murmured edward. “she is scripture. my scripture.”

he cried a single tear. bella’s tear—yes!, the same one he had eaten that fateful day in the meadow. it tumbled from his chiseled white cheekbone, crashing onto the bits of smashed apple below.

“no!” the true nightmare had just begun. edward didn’t love bella!

she passed out.

october

november

december

january

these were the only months bella learned in primary school, but she listed them all to make sure she didn’t have a concussion

meanwhile, the cullens & the student body of forks orbited stephenie, praising her & quoting the bible & reassuring her that, yes, despite her hoarding an absurd amount of wealth (& giving nothing back to the indigenous ppl she wronged), she would definitely be getting into the kingdom of heaven

what if stephenie had come to replace bella? what if stephenie was bella? or what if none of this was real? what if bella had passed out in the woods again & was being carried back home by a bare-chested sam? (no doubt the rosiest scenario, but hey, a girl can dream)

&, as if on cue, the cafeteria doors burst open.

“i heard there’s a new girl in town.”    

“jake!” bella said for no other reason other than to identify jake.

jake loomed in the doorway, a hulking eight feet & fourteen inches. instead of sporting his bare rippling abs & tight jorts, he wore a rippling xxxxxl t-shirt with Mormon Boys Are My Favorite Toys printed in rainbow lettering. over that he wore a turtleneck sweater. over that he wore a pinstripe suit w/ a monogrammed lapel; in fact, it seemed that every inch of jake’s typically objectified, UNDER-EIGHTEEN body was clothed.

behind him stood the quileute teens, all scowls.

“quick!” said jacob, throwing bella a shopping bag. “put this on & follow us!”

bella dropped the bag because she was clumsy, then she tripped over the bag because she was clumsy. bella was so clumsy. then she pulled out a bowling shirt, cuffed jeans, & doc martens. meanwhile, the crowd of students grew louder, larger.

“if you want to get out of here alive, you’re going to have to dress like the disaster bisexual you are,” said jake over the growing cheers of the student body. “now!!”

“jake, i can’t, you know i’m too het for these clothes!”

“het?? ok, strong disagree,” said leah, poking her head out from behind jake’s nine-foot-five frame.

at the sound of leah’s voice, stephenie shot her a glare. she & leah were natural enemies. for reasons.

from the back of the pack sam shouted, “we can have a healthy nuanced discourse on sexual orientation after we escape smeyer—hurry!”

“steph-en-ie! steph-en-ie!” cheers & howls drowned out the wolfpack. bella slipped into her new attire & bolted out of the cafeteria.

“wait, solike, what just happened?” bella asked. she could run alongside the pack even though she lived a completely sedentary lifestyle & was just described as clumsy. “who’s the new girl & why am i pretending to be bisexual?”

“‘pretending’?” leah smirked

jake said, “it’s smeyer. she’s writing a new book.”

“smeyer?”

“if you say her full name, you summon her.” jacob’s voice dropped to a murmur. “she’s trying to destroy her world.”

“her world? you mean ours?”

“not yet.” jake shook his head. “it’s her world. we are her world. & the more she adds to it, the worse it becomes.” they burst through the side door into the gloomy afternoon. “we’ve got to take back smeyer’s canon before it’s too late.”

“wha—holy crow, she has a cannon?    what?”

“jake, c’mon,” said sam, car keys jangling in his hand, “we can talk meta later. smeyer’s going to follow us if we stick around.”

bella’s head spun. “w-well if she knows where we are, who we are—how the hell are we gonna stop her?”

whipping out a pair of shades from the folds of his monogrammed lapel, jake said, “well honey, lemme tell ya.” he slid the shades over his steely eyes. “first things first: we reclaim her characters.”

Keep reading

Damn that tag hits too hard

back in the heyday of mlp fandom there was one specific guy that commissioned insane amounts of self insert shipping art with pinkie pie. when the finale and confirmed pinkie fucked weird al instead he got a comic of his oc watching longingly at them like walking through the park with their kid and just solemnly accepting it and it was the funniest shit to me. he took it so seriously it was like a genuine breakup

THIS IS SO FUNNY HE GOT CUCKED BY WEIRD AL

hey do you think you could expand a bit on separating the art from the artist? clearly you’ve done it with jk rowling but what are your thoughts on it as a general idea?

Okay, but you’re not going to like the answer.

Here’s the truth: you can’t separate the art from the artist. Not entirely. HP Lovecraft was an incredibly talented, but much more incredibly racist man. It would nice to say you don’t agree with his views but you can enjoy his works without that leaking in but.... well, I’m afraid that would be misunderstanding his books entirely.

Consider, for a second, that Lovecraft’s works were horror stories about extradimensional creatures having mutant children with humans; they were about invasions from distant aliens; they were about the purity of quaint, white, American towns being tainted. Now consider how this may have all been influenced by the fact that he just simply despised anybody who wasn’t white. Consider how his opinions on “mixing the races” might feed into this; consider why being unable to maintain the “purity” of white Americans was the scariest thing of all to him.

This extends to Rowling too.

I would love to say we can just acknowledge that she is an awful, racist, antisemitic, transphobic person and then say “but at least her books are good,” because, well, they are, aren’t they? I would say so, for sure. But to suggest that one can separate her from them is.... ridiculous, and it’s an insult to fans, can know and do better.

Consider why an antisemitic woman wrote about a species of goblins who live among us, but who for the most part keep to themselves and are maybe a little discriminated against on an individual level, but also hold all the cards, all the money, run the banks.

Consider why a racist woman would write about a species of slaves who loved being enslaved, who enjoyed working for no pay, and cleaning up after humans, with the only small caveat of that they didn’t want to be beaten. Imagine that only the most radical of their species wanted to be free, and he still spent the rest of his life working for no pay and helping out a little white boy and his friends wherever he could. Consider why the only person in the story who thought they should be free, that they should have rights, was treated as an overzealous joke, who was acting against the wishes of those slaves who really LOVE being enslaved. Consider that Rowling went on to say that she kind of considers that girl to be black, now.

Consider why JK Rowling, an open and proud transphobe, wrote Rita Skeeter as having a large square jaw, thick “manly” hands, and dressing incredibly gaudily with the most obvious fake nails and fake teeth and fake hair and fake everything. Consider why a woman who tweets about how trans women are “foxes pretending to be hens to get in the hen house” might write this Rita Skeeter character to then illegally transform her body in order to spy on children.

Harry Potter is full of Rowling’s bigotry, start to finish. Not even tangentially, like, “oh the goblins are bad, Rita Skeeter is bad, the house elves are bad, but most of it’s good!” because the deeper you dig and the longer you think the more you realise the entire story is based on her prejudices.

Harry Potter pretends to be an aracial story about found family, but if that were true, why are Harry’s distant ancestors important to who he is today even in the seventh book? Why does Harry have to live with his cousin and aunt and uncle? Because magic inherently prefers blood ties. Whilst Rowling was writing a story that seemed to say, “your heritage is not that important and doesn’t make you better than others” she was still writing a story about a boy who got all of his money through his bloodline, who was protected by living with his bloodline, no matter how evil, who was uniquely able to stop Voldemort because his bloodline passed down the invisibility cloak for generations and generations. Any step Harry takes he is compared to his perfect parents who were exactly like him — he looks just like his father, but he has his mother’s eyes, you know! — consider WHY a woman who is racist might’ve written a story like this. A story that on its surface, condemns a blood caste, but still in every step it takes, validates the idea that blood is thicker than water, and your geneological origin is what makes you special.

You can enjoy Harry Pottwr, of course you can. There are fantastic parts. I love a small group of teenagers deciding to become anarchist rebels and train to fight against fascism in secret. I love the murder mystery plots, I love how the series tells kids that it’s a good thing to be brave, and a good thing to fight injustice, and a good thing to challenge the government. But I cannot separate it from its author because it is such a product of its author. All of the structures of the world, the way things work in the universe, are drenched in Rowling’s beliefs, her bigotries. Of course they are: she made them.

Again. This doesn’t mean you cannot enjoy it. But I think we are past the day where we can pretend that disavowing a bigoted author is enough, and that that somehow separates the text from its bigotry. I think we are past the day where we can pretend that Harry Potter isn’t a deeply, inherently bigoted piece of media. Even the bits we love. I think we are beyond the day where we can truthfully pretend to separate it from her, because she is present through all of it. We MUST recognise its flaws. We MUST admit that she is in every part of it.

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Brain farts, a thread