#This is my fic

[good-chimes]

👀 What chaos is happening in Hotguy’s email inbox? Keep tabs on @hotguycomiczine to find out!!

(To be real: I have never seen a zine with a complete narrative arc before and I cant! wait! for it to drop)

[2istoomany]

Our Hearts Can Change fic - in which Mu Qing has a garden and it heals him

[smilelikethesunagain]

Izuku Midoriya has been missing for almost four years, and this time, he didn't leave a note.

Katsuki, in the meantime, has been searching for him and working full-time as a hero. His mission for the last year has been to locate and capture the mysterious vigilante Zero.

When he opens his apartment door in the middle of the night to a dying Izuku in a Zero mask, he doesn't know what to do. - - - - - "Izuku?" Katsuki whispered.

Izuku's eyes fluttered shut as he grimaced, curling into himself. He was holding his stomach. His black, deeply-shadowed jumpsuit looked darker where he was holding himself, a black pool spreading. He moved his hand from his stomach and stared at his scarlet palm.

"I didn't—" He laughed weakly, red dripping suddenly from the corner of his mouth. "I didn't know where else to go. Kacchan."

[operation-crying-raven]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Owl House (Cartoon) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: The Collector & Raine Whispers, Archivist Characters & The Collector (The Owl House), King Clawthorne & The Collector (The Owl House), Eda Clawthorne/Raine Whispers, Eda Clawthorne & Raine Whispers, Eda Clawthorne & King Clawthorne, Eda Clawthorne & The Collector Characters: The Collector (The Owl House), King Clawthorne (The Owl House), Archivist Characters (The Owl House), Raine Whispers, Eda Clawthorne Additional Tags: Short, Title from a Cavetown Song, Song: Meteor Shower (Cavetown), Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood, Good Parent Raine Whispers, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for The Collector (The Owl House), The Collector Needs a Hug (The Owl House), Child The Collector (The Owl House), The Collector has Abandonment Issues (The Owl House), Best Friends, Good Parent Eda Clawthorne, Eda Clawthorne Adopts The Collector (The Owl House), Stars, Stargazing, Meteor, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Commentary, Out of Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, No Smut Summary:

The Collector crash lands in Raine's backyard and refusing to explain how he got his injuries or why he's here so Raine brings him to Eda. Collector and King hang out.

[fayewoodss]

it's amazing they made ao3 for the one gnf fic I read over and over and over again and there are no other fics on that website, just that one!

[dangansins-confessional]

My offical list of Saiou recs!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49473091/chapters/124859341

(Completed timeloop fic, 100k+ words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670451/chapters/21842975

(Incompleted canon divergence fic, 50k+ words)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53650909

(Incompleted talentswap fic, 100k+ words)

More to be added 😈🔥

Confession 98

[scalefeathers]

Lucky Break

Wolgraha Week 2024 - Day 3 - Alternate Universe

(set in @scrollsfromarebornrealm's Weird West AU)

Honestly, G’raha should have realized a lot sooner than something was up. But he’d been running late, as he so often was (one might expect a reporter to be used to working with deadlines, but it was just so easy to get distracted) so he’d been in a hurry as he rushed to the station, well aware that train timetables were one of the few things in the world harder to negotiate with than his editor. He’d been in such a hurry, in fact, that he hadn’t even seen the girl step out into his path between the ticket counter and the platform. While he’d been frantically apologizing and helping her to her feet, he hadn’t even felt the hand of her accomplice slip into his pocket, nor noticed until the train had fully pulled away from the station that said pocket was considerably lighter than it should have been. 

Still, being robbed need not have in itself been disastrous. After all, he still had his ticket, which throughout the whole altercation had been tightly clutched in his hand. And once he reached Stonewood he could wire back to Tulliyollal for more funds.  Unfortunately, when he examined said ticket more closely, he saw that the name printed on it was not ‘Stonewood Town’, but ‘Stonewood Mine’. Upon inquiring, he learned that the Stonewood Mine station was some twenty-five malms from Stonewood Town, that the station did not have a ticket counter (not that he could have bought a ticket even if it had), and that at present the mine was not even in use, as it had recently been sold and the new owners had not yet spun up their operation. 

For all of these reasons, G’raha elected not to disembark at the mine. Instead, he moved to another part of the train and sank low in his seat as the train pulled away from the desolate-looking station. Maybe the conductor wouldn’t notice he was still here before the train got to Stonewood, and he could slip away unnoticed. Maybe, this time, he’d be lucky.

He really should have known better by now.

~~~~~~~~

G’raha let out an undignified noise as he hit the ground hard, then immediately rolled to the side to avoid being flattened by his luggage as it was tossed out after him. He sat back up, opening his mouth to plead once more for clemency, but the smirking porter was already sliding the door shut and the train was already beginning to move again. G’raha could only watch helplessly as it slid out of sight, the rhythmic chuffing of the engine sounding in the moment like laughter at his expense. 

He sat there, stunned, for a few moments; then he remembered his luggage, and scrambled to open it up and check on the contents. Thank the gods; his typewriter was still intact. 

“Some good fortune, at least,” he murmured to himself. He allowed himself just a few moments of self-pity; then he stood up, dusted himself off, picked up his suitcase, and started to walk.

He was able to set a decent pace at first, but between the heat of the sun and the weight of his bag, his speed soon slowed. His shoes, well-suited though they were to trekking up and down Tulliyoallal’s hills and traversing its many streets, were ill-prepared for the uneven, rocky terrain of Shaaloani. His hat did little to protect the back of his neck, his throat was dry, his shoulders ached, and the sun had not yet reached its zenith. Still, he told himself, as long as he kept putting one foot in front of the other, took one step and then another, he would reach the town eventually. He could hardly get lost, after all, as long as he had tracks to follow.

~~~~~~~~

...Of course.

G'raha looked forlornly at the split track: one fork toward the north, and one to the south. He wracked his brain, trying desperately to recall the map he’d seen at the station. Obviously Stonewood was northwest of Tuliyollal, but the train had needed to cut north quite a ways to get around the mountains; perhaps the town was now to the southwest?

A map, he thought ruefully, one more thing he’d have been wise to bring; along with extra money, water, food, a better hat–

He pulled his mind, effortfully, back to the task at hand. Nothing to be done about it now, and nothing to be gained by standing here. He chewed his lip awhile, then set off on the northern track, as decisively as he could manage. 

~~~~~~~~

The sun was halfway to the horizon now, and G’raha wasn’t certain he could take another step. He had thought he understood how hot it could get in Tural; he’d been wrong. His throat was parched, his head was throbbing, and he’d started to lose all feeling in his arms. Still, he clutched the handle of the suitcase like a lifeline. He’d a few times considered leaving it behind, but when he’d been attacked by the biggest snake he’d ever seen in his life, he’d been very glad to have it. He’d swung the heavy case with all his might at the beast’s head, and managed to stun it long enough to flee, though he’d lost his hat in the process. Perhaps some traveler someday would find it, rolling across the dusty ground or caught in a bush, and wonder what had become of its tenant.

Perhaps they’d find his bones, too.

He shook his head to clear it, although that just made the throbbing worse. None of that now. He had to think positive; he had to keep going. One step, then another… then...

He collided with something; something solid. Not solid like a rock or a wooden wall, but something a bit softer. Something like–a body.

G’raha’s head snapped up, and he jerked backwards in alarm as he stared up at a viera who had appeared seemingly from nowhere. She (he thought they were a she, at least, though it could be difficult to tell with viera) was tall–taller than him, anyway, though that admittedly wasn’t saying much. She wore weathered brown leather over a rust-red tunic; a long, slender rifle slung over one shoulder; a leather pouch bulging with assorted flora on her hip; and an unimpressed expression on her face. 

“Oh! Uh… hello!” He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly and non-threatening manner, though in truth it came off as more manic than anything. “G’ra–” he coughed suddenly, his dry throat protesting at so much sudden usage, “...G’raha Tia, Xak Tural Star… uh, I mean, that is, I’m G’raha, and I–” he blinked, the viera’s impassive face swimming before his eyes, “I’m, uh…is this the way to…Stonewood?” It came out more of a question by the end. He wasn’t used to speaking to someone so… unreactive.

 The silence stretched just long enough that he started to wonder if maybe the viera didn’t understand him at all; then she uncrossed her arms, placed her hands on her hips instead, and said in a flat voice, “No.”

G’raha’s heart sank, along with his ears and tail. Though he did manage, to his credit, not to start crying, which was a relief. In addition to being utterly humiliating, it would also have been a dreadful waste of water. “Ah.” Distantly he heard a thump as his suitcase finally slipped from his hand. “Well then.” He looked around blearily, starting to feel dizzy again. “I suppose I’ll just . . . I’ll . . .”  He stumbled over to a rocky outcropping beside the tracks, intending at first to just lean against it, but before he knew it he was folding down instead to sit against it, closing his eyes and tipping his head back into the meager shade it provided. “I’ll just . . . sit here for a bit.”

There was a few seconds’ silence; then he heard a faint rustle of clothing, the crunch of gravel underfoot. Distantly, G’raha assumed that the viera was leaving him to his well-deserved fate. But then he heard the rustling again, closer this time–and accompanied, crucially, by the faint slosh of water. 

His eyes flew open and he beheld the open waterskin being offered to him. Any thought of manners or etiquette evaporated in a moment; he just grabbed the pouch and drank from it with long, desperate swallows. The water was stale and lukewarm and also the most wonderful thing he’d ever tasted. It was only when he felt the waterskin being drawn away from him that he came back to himself. 

G’raha sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled a ragged but earnest, “Thank you,” as the stranger screwed the cap back onto the canteen and slung it behind her once again. “Thank you, so much, I–I’m truly grateful.” 

He looked up at her, his head feeling a bit clearer, though it still ached. The woman was looking at him like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. It made him feel small and exposed to be so regarded. It also made him acutely aware what a mess he must look right now, sweaty and sunburnt and dusty and disheveled. Still, he was truly glad to see her. He’d been starting to wonder if he’d die out here without seeing another face, friendly or otherwise. 

“Thank you,” he said again, a smile breaking across his face. “I didn’t expect to find any kindness out here.”

The strange woman seemed a little taken aback by this. He wasn’t sure why; perhaps because of how ghastly he must look. Maybe she thought he was going to be sick. With the way his head was swimming, she might not be wrong. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath; when he opened them again, there was a hand in front of his face. An offering. 

G’raha looked up at her, his mouth opening, but for once in his life, there was nothing he could think of to say. Instead, he put his hand in hers and let her pull him to his feet. His head swam but he managed to stay upright.

“Come,” she said, turning away from him and starting to walk: not along the tracks, but away from them. When she realized he wasn’t following, she turned back and gave him an exasperated look. “Unless you’d rather stay here?”

That spurred him to action. “No, I don’t,” he began, stepping forward, “I mean, I wouldn’t, It’s just, uh…” he glanced to the southwest, where he was now pretty sure the town of Stonewood lay, (though even he wasn’t sure he could really be trusted on that score just now) then back to the woman, who seemed to be heading northeast.  “...Come where?”

She sighed and put her hand on her hip. “To the caves, so you don’t die of heatstroke. To rest at my camp, so you don’t die of cold, or of getting eaten by an aspis. And, in the morning, to Stonewood, so you don’t die of something else and leave me with your death on my conscience.” 

“Oh.” G’raha couldn’t fault her logic; all of those things seemed very likely to happen if she left him to his own devices. It embarrassed him to admit it, but there was no point in denying the truth. “Well . . . thank you.” He turned away and picked up his suitcase again, dusting it off. “You truly are very kind. Oh! I can pay you,” he added, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Not–not right away, I mean, but once we reach Stonewood and I can send a wire back home, I’d be happy to . . .”

The woman shrugged. “If you like. For now I’ll settle for hearing how you ended up out here in the first place. Come on.” She turned away and started walking again.

As he stood by the edge of the tracks, watching her go, G’raha wondered if the woman was just a mirage, a conjuration of a mind descending into heat-addled delirium. He’d heard that heat could drive men mad before it killed them. Surely this was a mere fantasy; surely he, of all people, couldn’t possibly be this lucky. 

But her hand had felt solid enough, warm and strong as it had gripped his. He fancied he could still feel a faint tingle where her calluses had pressed into his skin. 

Following an attractive stranger into the desert was probably a bad idea . . . but it would hardly be the worst decision he’d made that day.

 “Right, then.” He smiled again and headed after her. Though he knew the typewriter was still inside it, his suitcase didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

She hadn’t slowed her pace while he’d stood there waffling, but he soon managed to catch up with her anyway. “I’m–” he began to offer her his hand to shake, but she waved him off.

“G’raha Tia, Xak Tural Star. I heard you.” 

He blushed, sunburned cheeks turning even pinker. “Oh, right. Of course. And you are, Miss…?”

She glanced at him. It was hard to tell, but he thought he saw her mouth quirk with the faintest of smiles. “Bylt,” she said. “Just Bylti.”

~~FIN~~

[hecula-propaganda]

I don't know why when I'm in front of the doc I struggle to find a way to properly convey Hector's feelings, and I have doubts like "would he kiss Dracula's hand? and for how long? would he accept his cold?"

but then when I'm daydreaming off the doc brain defaults to "they should kiss on the lips and be cute and almost wholesomely in love 🥺" like it's the most natural dynamic for this creepfest

(in my defense, I think I made pretty clear that Drac is a creep in the first part lol. and, well, the whole point of the fic is discussing Dracula's human love filtered by his monstrosity, and how Hector only sees the first part for better and for worse, so...)

[neonponders]

every time i read another instalment of ‘like magnets’ i scream at my phone for billy and steve to just kiss already

They're gonna. Unless... 👀

[roboticnebula]

Pros of re-reading your own fic

a good time;

Has exactly the tropes you like and the characterization you want to read;

Gratification: yes you did finish a thing and yes you did do good;

just a very fun time all around.

Cons of re-reading your own fic:

Is that another TYpO

[balrogballs]

i'm a writer irl (can't say who because my agent would rightfully put me into a blender and press the button if i go and out myself as "balrogballs") and honestly the funniest and most humiliating incident of my life was the time my finished manuscript triggered a plagiarism flag with the publisher for two lines of prose in my literary fiction novel...

.... which was word for word similar to a paragraph in a certain explicit work on FFN starring elrond and his batsman from the hobbit films, aka that one elf that looked like he ate panic attacks for breakfast (i forget his name but it's Figwit II) where the lord of imladris bends said twink over his writing desk and gives him the battering ram treatment.

and if you think i had to sit in front of one if the biggest publishing companies in the world and admit that it was, in fact, me who wrote the fic where the lord of imladris bends said twink over his writing desk and gives him the battering ram treatment in order to avoid being wrongly flagged for plagiarism, you would be absolutely correct.

(yes they published the book)

[jamjoob]

great heavens i haven't posted in a while

[potofsoup]

Oh look, it seems like there's a Republican-led movement to purge voter rolls in the lead-up to the election! It's almost as if your vote matters and they don't want you to vote! Anyway, I whipped up a quick map (based on this) that shows when the voter registration deadline is in each state. There are a few deadlines coming up in the next week or so.

If you live in a state that regularly purges voter rolls for infrequent voters (the orange ones in the first map), or if you moved recently, it's good to check if you're still registered to vote.

Vote.org makes it super easy to check your registration: https://www.vote.org/am-i-registered-to-vote/

Just put in your address and DOB and they'll tell you whether you're registered. (And they give you a quick link to register online if it turns out that you're not! Only the 9 states in white on my map don't have online registration, and for those they provide instructions on how to do it via mail or in person.) If you want an extra verification, find your state's election website and double-check there.

So yeah, give yourself peace of mind -- do a quick check. :)

[whatsnewalycat]

Made this for u 💝

[yeehawpim]

a comic about fix-it fanfics