#REALLY FREAKING GOOD

[emeraldsk]

Well, I thought that reading a fanfic with two new SMGs would be boring and weird...

I WAS SO WRONG

@bluestrawberrybunny's Apprenticeship AU is SO GOOD and I'm not even done with the first book!

Putting a read more in case of spoilers even though I feel I'm the last person to read this in the world XD

SMG5 and 6 are just really likable IMO, mostly 5 though. 6 feels a bit too much like Mario sometimes (That I can tell, my brain can't tell much sometimes).

And I was like 'Okay, there's a Puzzles tag, you can get through this for him.' Well, it ended up being that I was chillin instead of 'getting through' it, and it was WORTH THE WAIT.

First off, Puzzles actually tries to be better!! He's actually accepted in the crew???? AAAA-

Second, THE JOKES FOR HIM I LOVE IT. It's mainly coming from or about him, but the jokes I do see make me laugh so hard!

Also SMG34, SMG56, and Marware yum (Trashcube makes no sense to me but hey you do you)

I had already liked the Schmigadoon AU, but this????

Oh yeah, gonna keep going.

Don't judge a book by it's oc characters, lesson learned.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

something about first impressions idk

bonus:

[cup-o-stars]

Happy B-Day to the Corasante!! ❤🕯🎂🕯❤

(Featuring way too many drawings)

[fictionadventurer]

Genuinely think the only way to approach art is to like the things you like instead of tearing down what other people like.

"You should read classics because those are real literature unlike that TikTok garbage." Bad. Turns people away from reading the classics because it makes them sound stuffy and boring and makes you sound like a snob.

"You should read classics because this book is amazing! I love the characters and the story, and it's so cool to read a story that uses different techniques than modern fiction does." Good. Makes people want to read the classic. Suggests there's something good in this story instead of just suggesting that other stuff is worse.

"You don't like the modern art? That's because you're an unwashed plebeian who only likes what's pretty." Bad. Puts down the person and makes them even less likely to be interested in this type of art.

"Wow, I love this painting! Look at the technique! I love the message behind it!" Good. Helps the person to appreciate what might not be obvious at first glance, instead of shaming them for not automatically knowing this.

"You should watch this show because it's so much better than that other garbage show." Antagonizes people who like the garbage show and makes them less likely to feel positively toward the show you like.

"You should watch this show because it has great writing/characters/plot etc." Good! Tells people what makes this show appealing and makes them want to try it.

"I listen to this music because it's real art and not that manufactured pop garbage." Bad. Makes your genre seem like an exclusive club of snobs that I don't want to join.

"I listen to this music because I like the sound. Here, listen to this song." Good! Shows me something good within the genre and may encourage me to explore further.

There's a place for criticism. You don't have to like or approve of everything. But it's not a great technique for getting people to like art. Hating on the things that are bad just drives people away. If you want to draw people toward something, you have to help them to appreciate what's good.

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[triona-tribblescore]

okay so they may have a minor chokehold on me at the minute-

[huginsmemory]

Been thinking about how Bill legitimately had a horrifying reason (the literal progressive disintegration of the nightmare realm that erases whatever it disintegrates from existence completely) to move himself and his crew into a new dimension. Like that's terrifying. And yet he never utilizes this to his favour. He could have been honest about this with Ford, and you KNOW as long as Bill didn't mention plans of overtaking the earth, Ford would've made the portal for him, both out of Ford's own interest and because Ford when faced with these big moral questions will pull through. But this is a card Bill NEVER plays because although he needs to leave the dimension, he cannot lose face. He can't put aside his pride and admit to the humility that he needs to flee from his dimension, that he's not actually all powerful. And so instead he pretends to be a muse and when Ford figures out something else is going on, instead of being open and humble and saying that his dimension is unravelling, Bill focuses on that he's going to over take earth, that he's actually been a monster all along, surprise Ford!

And part of it is definitely because Bill's built himself up on power and violence and to grovel and earnestly ask for help, to admit that he cannot stop the unraveling of his dimension completely invalidates that; showing vulnerability? Can't do that, even under the guise of lying to get his way. And part of it makes you wonder if it's also a form of self-sabotage, because underneath his deep denial Bill is guilty over what he occurred; he sees himself as a monster and so he'll be that monster, and having people recognize that feels good in the same way that pressing a bruise feels good. But it makes you wonder what would've happened if Bill even just was open about his dimension unravelling and had lied about overtaking the earth.

It's also interesting because although Bill has SOME charisma and can manipulate people decently well (as evidenced by his cult, and pandering to people's desires with Ford, Mabel and Blendin), he refuses to be vulnerable, refuses to not be true to his off-putting self, even when if he was just vulnerable of pretended to not be himself, to put aside the (false) pride he has in himself he would've gotten a portal by now. and part of me wonders if it's because it's this false pride that built on insecurity and denial on who he is he cannot drop that mask.

Further thoughts on this!

[hopeswriting]

reminder that if you back tsuna into a corner he

A) sends you right back into the worst prison for mafia criminals you just escaped from, but even worse than before (enjoy being unconscious and tied up in your one room swimming pool for the next 10 years)

B) freezes you with flames burning so hot they turned into ice (< this isn't how the zero point breakthrough is explained in canon but it's the more dramatic explanation), fully knowing you were already frozen by similar ones for 8 years until, like, a month prior

C) burns you fucking alive and also undoes the last 10 years of your existence across all existing timelines. also he won't think anything about it afterwards ever (?????? like. it's not that he didn't deserve it, to be clear, but damn. 😭😭😭 middle schoolers when you just want to take over the world(s) for a bit, smdh 🙄)

D) is willing to become the boss of the most powerful mafia family in the world with a bloodstained history if it means getting the opportunity to get his hands on you and kill you beat the shit out of you. but you're lucky he likes you so you could stay on very thin ice long enough for both of you to clear things up

E) gangs up against you with all the current and future strongest people in the world, and then punches you so hard he makes you see the light of doing the right thing despite your centuries years old deep rooted hatred which singlehandedly kept you alive as an undead person

also reminder he did all that while he was only 14 years old. this is all things he did in less than a year.

this is tsuna's resume during the course of less than a year of proper mafia business.

so, you know. the next time he goes "i just want my friends and i to be safe and happy and live in peace. 🥺🥺🥺 please don't make me fight you to make it happen? 👉🏽👈🏽🥺👉🏽👈🏽🥺👉🏽👈🏽🥺"

just maybe, consider listening to him

[ketrindarkdragon]

Movie!Mike:

Builds a fort with tables and chairs for his sister and animatronics and has the most wholesome time

Game!Mike:

[marciaillust]

I added some colours to her :)

[teaboot]

tranny freak :)

[snortslaxatives]

Thinking about how after silco lost his eye he goes from being a very physically capable revolutionary to someone who is disabled and can no longer do any of that. No depth perception means no more jumping across roofs, no more fighting because you can’t dodge, throw, or aim super well. Nerve damage that’s spreading probably resulting in limited physical capabilities, over time he has to wear a supportive brace. Probably can’t run that fast or do much of anything combat wise, and how vander, who was already this like, icon of physical power, took what little silco had. Thinking about his speech about how power doesn’t come to who’s fastest or strongest and how he probably had to tell himself that to rationalize his loss.

[sporeclan]

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Just a buncha really cute and sweet interactions this time around <3 They all care for eachother soooo much :')

[altruistic-meme]

im sitting here wondering how the ADA would react to skks dynamic in canon. cus like..... I don't think ANYONE from the ADA has ever actually seen Dazai and Chuuya in the same room. and the way Dazai talks to and teases Chuuya is SO DIFFERENT than how he behaves with the people at the ADA that I feel like they'd get fucking whiplash from it.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[fairsweetlonging]

( ˚❀˳ ) ERROR_FILE_CORRUPT || shen qingqiu (shen yuan) & yue qingyuan

* . ⊹ synopsis. shen qingqui has not been giving the system satisfactory results. it decides to take matters into its own hands. yue qingyuan tries to persuade it otherwise.

notes: @artsarasp this is all your fault

word count: 774

based on this post and this amazing art

The afternoon sunlight trickles ember and gold through the latticed window, soft and bright and warm as it fills the room. In the stillness between them, it feels distant, wavering, like still water disturbed somewhere below the surface where he cannot see.

Hazy steam curls from two teacups set on the low table, pale porcelain gleaming faintly against the dark grain of the wood. It’s an old blend, something light. A favorite. He doesn’t know why that matters. Maybe because this one has never been rejected. Maybe because he’s grasping for something that is no longer there.

On the other side, Shen Qingqiu sits unnervingly still, as if his body has forgotten how to breathe, how to live, his back straight but rigid, like a figure carved from stone rather than a man of flesh and blood. 

When he reaches for the tea, his fingers move with a strange, stilted motion, like a doll whose joints have rusted with disuse, or the rotten wood of a foundation that shakes the house with every gust of wind, about to collapse. As he leans forward, his robes don’t move along; not even a hair falls out of place. 

There is something profoundly wrong about him, as if he’s not even actually there. 

Yet it follows their rituals, to perfection, moving through the steps of their routine as if they were its own; slow sips, remaining silent as they drink, no idle talk, leaving the only sound to be the soft clack of porcelain on wood. 

Yue Qingyuan drinks faster than he would any other time, faster, even, than is proper. It burns the roof of his mouth. There is no need for formalities, not here, not for that thing. 

It is the same face, the same gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the raven black hair that lies gracefully along his shoulders, but the eyes… Xiao Jiu’s eyes are blue, all of it, sickly, devoid of life; when he stares into that hollow nothingness, it is almost as if something is staring back at him. 

Yue Qingyuan puts down his cup. His voice is deceptively calm. 

"What do you want."

Something flares in Xiao Jiu’s eyes at the question, almost as if it’s been waiting for this.

When he answers it is not in words, but in a cacophony of metallic hollow sounds that reverberate through the back of his mind.

【 this system does not ‘want’ for anything. this system is tasked with helping user002 create a good story 】

It doesn’t even bother opening Xiao Jiu’s mouth as it speaks, keeping that same, placid smile on his face. Somewhere, Yue Qingyuan is glad for its lack of trying—it never seems able to match its movements to the words quite right.

【 your interference caused a plot-divergence too difficult for him to fix. so this system has taken over 】

It’s said that before, when they first caught on, back then, when they thought it was only a matter of time before they had driven the creature out. User. Plotlines. Story. Protagonist. He interfered with something, poked the sleeping bear where he should have let it lay. He doesn’t know when. He doesn’t even know what he did.

But Shen Qingqiu cannot be the only one, not with how the system speaks about him; the number two insinuates the existence of a user one, like how nine insinuates there is a seven. 

Yue Qingyuan isn’t sure he wants to know whether user two has come with user one, or after him.

Despite his diligent studies, his upbringing to become the future sect leader, Yue Qingyuan isn’t that well read, not in these kinds of stories, anyway—in stories with protagonists and heroes and villains, the kinds that have overarching themes and conflicts. 

But he knows that though audiences are fickle, they are also easily entertained. After all: the worst crime of a character is not his flaws, it’s being boring. He's heard Shang Qinghua speak of it often enough, how audiences care very little for the quality, but will sing the praises of any story that manages to keep their attention. 

Perhaps there is a different way to keep their invisible audience entertained.

"Does… does it have to be Xiao Jiu?" His fingers curl to fists beneath the cover of his wide sleeves, grasping the fabric until his knuckles turn white. Please. Please, just this once, let him do something right. "Could someone else create this story?"

The system blinks. 

【 someone like –yue qingyuan–? 】

He nods.

【 calculating… 】

Xiao Jiu shakes his head.

【 perhaps the next story… 】