Convention Summary
Soooo...
First I just want to say that the people running the convention are great people. Lovely people. Those guys did a great job on the day with what they had.
But.
I can't say it went well. I can't even say it was worth attending. In total, I made a little over table cost. I know there are times when people don't even make table cost-- but my accommodation and travel costs weren't even close to covered, so I'm in the red~.
Honestly, I wouldn't be as annoyed about it if the table price was fairer for the size of the event.
The cost of the table was exactly the same as it is at another very popular, larger 2 day convention held in Sydney, and yet there was very little for attendees to do. There was a cosplay contest on the Saturday, an auction on the Sunday, two DnD themed panels... and that was it. There were no special guests to draw people in. No dealers hall-- Not even the largest and best known comic/manga/pop culture store in the city it was held in had a presence there.
A lot of people who held weekend passes didn't return on the Sunday... We had to leave early anyway so maybe it was just as well it was pretty dead by the time we packed up.
There were some wonderfully talented people vending in the AA there, and I'm sure some of them made profit... I just hope it was as much profit as they deserved for their efforts. I managed to spend a chunk of my earnings on the Saturday buying things from them, haha.
So yeah.
That's my report. Unless they are able to get more funding to put on a larger event (at least have more panels or a special guest for people to see), or lower the table costs, I don't think I'll go back.
TOP SELLING ITEMS:
Wooden bookmarks
Stickers
Live drawings
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i. about 2 weeks ago, i was told there's a good chance that in 5 or so years, i'll need a wheelchair.
ii. okay. i loved harry potter as a kid. i have a hypothesis about this to be honest - why people still kind of like it. it's that she got very lucky. she managed to make a cross-generational hit. it was something shared for both parents and kids. it was right at the start of a huge cultural shift from pre to post-internet. i genuinely think many people were just seeking community; not her writing. it was a nice shorthand to create connection. which is a long way of saying - she didn't build this legacy, we built it for her. she got lucky, just once. that's all.
iii. to be real with you, i still struggle with identifying as someone with a disability, which is wild, especially given the ways my life has changed. i always come up against internalized ableism and shame - convinced even right now that i'm faking it for attention. i passed out in a grocery store recently. i hit my head on the shelves while i went down.
iv. he raises his eyebrows while he sends me a look. her most recent new book has POTS featured in it. okay, i say. i already don't like where this is going. we both take another bite of ramen. it is a trait of the villain, he says. we both roll our eyes about it.
v. so one of the things about being nonbinary but previously super into harry potter is that i super hate jk rowling. but it is also not good for my mental health to regret any form of joy i engaged with as a kid. i can't punish my young self for being so into the books - it was a passion, and it was how i made most of my friends. everyone knew about it. i felt like everyone had my same joy, my same fixation. as a "weird kid", this sense of belonging resonated with me so loudly that i would have done anything to protect it.
vi. as a present, my parents once took me out of school to go see the second movie. it is an incredibly precious memory: my mom straight-up lying about a dentist appointment. us snickering and sneaking into the weekday matinee. within seven years of this experience, the internet would be a necessity to get my homework finished. the world had permanently changed. harry potter was a relic, a way any of us could hold onto something of the analog.
vii. by sheer luck, the year that i started figuring out the whole gender fluid thing was also the first year people started to point out that she might have some internalized biases. i remember tumblr before that; how often her name was treated as godhood. how harry potter was kind of a word synonymous for "nerdy but cool." i would walk out of that year tasting he/him and they/them; she would walk out snarling and snapping about it.
viii. when i teach older kids creative writing, i usually tell them - so, she did change the face of young adult fiction, there's no denying that. she had a lot more opportunities than many of us will - there were more publishing houses, less push for "virally" popular content creators. but beyond reading another book, we need to write more books. we need to uplift the voices of those who remain unrepresented. we need to push for an exposure to the bigotry baked into the publishing system. and i promise you: you can write better than she ever did. nothing she did was what was magical - it was the way that the community responded to it.
ix. i get home from ramen. three other people have screenshotted the POTS thing and sent it to me. can you fucking believe we're still hearing this shit from her when it's almost twenty-fucking-twenty-three. the villain is notably also popular on tumblr. i just think that's funny. this woman is a billionaire and she's mad that she can't control the opinions of some people on a dying blue site that makes no money. lady, and i mean this - get a fucking life.
x. i am sorry to the kid i was. maybe the kid you were too. none of us deserved to see something like this ruined. that thing used to be precious to me. and now - all those good times; measured into dust.
/// 9.6.2022 // FUCKING AGAIN, JK? Are you fucking kidding me?
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in which steve is sick, eddie is in love, and floor time is being had
Eddie is in the kitchen when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. The smile is on his face before he even turns around to catch a glimpse of Steve, gloriously disheveled from all that sleep he’s been catching up on. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s big, fuzzy sweaters that Steve always hogs when he’s sick — which, thankfully, isn’t all that often —, a thick pair of sweats and mismatched socks.
Sickness is the time to wear mismatched socks without judgment, Edwin Munswin, Steve had huffed the first time Eddie saw him with a runny nose and ridiculous socks that definitely didn’t belong together. It had been the first time he admitted to himself that he was absolutely gone for Steve Runny Nose Harrington.
And so it doesn’t come as a surprise to him that his heart stumbles in his chest and the smile on his lips widens. Steve might hate being sick, but Eddie can’t really help but love him even more when he gets like this. When Steve allows himself to be a little weak and for Eddie to take care of him.
“Hi, sunshine,” Eddie says, turning down the heat on the stove to go over to his Stevie, wrapping his arms around the blanket Steve still has around his shoulders. “Sleep well?”
“Mmh.” It’s nothing more than a raspy grunt, a pathetic little noise as Steve cuddles further into Eddie, seeking out his warmth and comfort so freely that Eddie presses a kiss to his slightly sweaty forehead. “Missed you.”
“I’m right here,” he promises, running a hand up and down Steve’s back. “Just made you tea while the soup is warming up. Because you’re gonna have to eat.”
“Okay,” Steve nods, sounding solemn as he does, and Eddie wants to laugh. Gods, he’s so in love, it’s disgusting. Ridiculous. Absolutely laughable. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” A whisper, another promise, another kiss. He unwinds his arms and looks back at the giant pot of soup he made yesterday. “Do you wanna go back to bed or stay here?”
“Here,” Steve sighs and promptly sinks down the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Eddie with those beautiful brown eyes, so big and and full of love that Eddie can’t resist ruffling his hair, which earns him a little giggle from Steve.
Oh, right, he’s had the good stuff prescribed from the doctor. This is going to be fun in a few hours.
“You ridiculous man,” Eddie murmurs, trailing his hand from the crown of Steve’s head down across his cheek all the way to his chin in a gentle caress.
“Go back to your soup, you most ridiculous of men,” Steve says in retaliation, but he reaches for his hand to hold as Eddie returns to the stove.
“Technically it’s your soup.”
“That’s what I said.” Eddie looks down to see the most adorable of frowns on Steve’s head, and his heart explodes a little in his chest.
He snorts and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Sure is, baby.”
“See? I’m smart sometimes.”
“No argument from me there,” Eddie says, and he means it.
A hum comes from Steve and then he leans his head against Eddie’s leg. “You’re so nice to me, Eds. I like that you’re nice to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then it’s quiet, and the weight of Steve against his leg becomes heavier by the second to the point where Eddie is pretty sure Steve’s fallen asleep again. He doesn’t dare to move, but dear God he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to scream at the world how much he loves this ridiculous, adorable, possibly delirious and high on cold medication man who is wrapped in his blanket on their kitchen floor.
“Stevie,” he whispers at last, the soup hot, the tea just cool enough, and cards his hand through Steve’s hair to wake him. “Sunshine, wake up, I have soup for you.”
“Soup?”
“Soup.”
“But I love soup.”
“Then I have great news for you,” Eddie laughs and tilts Steve’s head up so he’ll meet his eyes. “It’s plenty, it’s warm, and you can have some. It’s right here.”
“You made me soup?”
“Yeah, babe,” Eddie chuckles, his heart tearing itself apart at the way Stevie looks up at him with such wonder and awe and love. “I made you so much soup. All for you.”
Steve nods, thinks for a moment and then looks up at Eddie again. “Can we share?”
“You wanna share your soup with me?” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s on eye level with Steve and can brush a kiss to his forehead again.
Steve nods again and reaches for him, clinging to Eddie’s sweater — well, it’s Steve’s technically. “Wanna share everything with you.“
“Even your blanket?”
Steve smiles and nods again, lifting one arm to invite Eddie in, which earns him a laugh. “Alright, let me just…”
He grabs two bowls of soup, Steve’s large mug of tea, two spoons and two pillows from their chairs so they can eat the soup on the floor without uncomfortable heat in their laps.
Later, when soup is but a distant memory of half an hour ago, Steve lets himself fall to the side and slumps into Eddie, head nestled on his shoulder.
“Sleep time again?” Eddie asks.
“No,” Steve slurs, definitely already on his way to half asleep. “Just. Just love you.”
Eddie hums and leans into Steve in return, warm underneath their blanket, surprisingly comfortable on the floor, backs against the counter. “Just love you, too, sunshine.”
And if Eddie closes his eyes, too, lulled into a sleepy state of comfort and warmth, then that’s just one more thing that happens with a sick Steve around.
In sickness and in health, he thinks with that same smile on his lips.
for @seidenbros, i besmooch your forehead with this 🌷🤍
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i feel like the boys’ representation in “it’s a terrible life” is a really accurate and insightful look into how they work on an Instinctual level.
at first it seems like just a funny bit for dean to be the one dismissing the ghost thing, but dean wesson actually fits perfectly into dean’s personality. i mean, think about it. hunter dean is OBSESSED with the job. he lives breathes and sleeps hunting. he’s proud of who he is and what he does, and he enjoys being a part of something. this episode shows how that’s part of dean’s intrinsic personality. he needs order. structure. discipline.
sam is mischaracterized as ‘the emotional one’, but i think dean’s a lot more of a romantic than him. he likes the idea of a stable life, whether that’s hunting or a cushy corporate job. he wakes up at 6am everyday, has a distinct routine and a circle of friends. he does herbal detoxes and drinks frothy rice milk lattes.
life is a package for him. dean likes fitting in. he doesn’t like breaking status quo. he instinctively looks to blend in, whether that’s in a corporate environment or with his father and other hunters. dean likes the idea of family. connection. he needs people, people who are familiar and trustworthy. he’s very community/family oriented. he’s not a lone wolf.
but sam on the other hand, he’s intrinsically in tune with weird frequencies. he’s strange and he picks up strange things. he cares about people and appreciates connection but he values himself and his gut instinct more. he loves sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. he doesn’t give a fuck about blending in. he didn’t as a hunter so he sure as hell doesn’t in a goddamn tech support cubicle.
sam straight up tells dean that everything about this feels wrong. and you can TELL that dean feels it as well. sam tells him that he thinks he should be doing more, it’s in his blood, he hates everything about this fake life. but dean deflects. no matter how uncomfortable he seems he pushes it down in favour of predictably and routine. even if deep down, he knows its wrong, it takes him a lot more time than sam to admit it.
this shows that sam is more than ‘hunting bad’ and dean is more than ‘hunting good’. it was never about hunting. sam refuses to turn a blind eye. he WANTS to rebel. it’s his nature. he instinctively looks for things that don’t line up and he calls that out. he doesn’t care about the backlash. dean needs stability. he needs people. he needs to feel like he’s a part of something. it’s why he brushes off that feeling of wrongness so quickly at the beginning of the episode, because he’s willing to overlook some of the bad for the benefits.
it’s just like how hunter dean is willing to defend john, defend the grisly violence of hunting, and convince himself into thinking this is his only choice. sam refuses to do that. he instead latches onto that feeling of otherness and rebels even though it costs him family and familiarity.
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