#and its hard to change something like that and still make it good

[apatheticsunday]

Batfam Eldritch Horror

AKA "inspired by that one post about Danny being a flerken and living with the Batfam" idea! Except he looks pants-shitting, "oh dear god, what is that" terrifying.

I just love slightly feral animal-like Danny in a... shape. It's not immediately identifiable as a cat or dog, maybe he has a few too many legs that kind of look like a tail at one point? And when he skitters up walls like a particularly small dog-sized tarantula, it's terrifying enough to make seasoned criminals squeal.

Let's imagine Danny had some sort of accident with a portal and was Wizard-of-Oz'd into Gotham, a literal hellmouth of a city with so many curses that it'd make John Constantine start to sweat. And this city also has... weird Ecto. (In my brain, there's a connection between the Lazarus Pit and ectoplasm, like pit waters are the sewers of ectoplasm or something.) It's enough for Danny to still exist but he can't seem to stay human-shaped. It's better than being a Blob Ghost, but not by much. His fur-scales-feathers-skin-something look dark as the midnight sky.

And who should stumble on this weird-looking Thing aside from Damian, secret animal-whisperer and passionate Pokemon collector? Damian, who known what a scared feral animal looks like and who can coax it into his arms? It doesn't matter that Danny has maybe five or six limbs. He can make himself slightly smaller at will (not in a Magical-Girl-Transformation way, mind you. When he changes shape, there's the distinct snap of bones breaking and wet, fleshy sounds of his organs, muscles, ligaments, tendons, everything shifting).

Damian has literally been trained by the League of Assassins under the Demon Head. He's likely seen more people's insides than an ER surgeon; he's killed more than enough people in incredibly grotesque and violent ways to be totally unphased by Danny changing shapes. Maybe he'll actually be sort of touched, a bit pleased, that his new Thing pet would change itself so violently so Damian could hold it.

What would Damian name it? He's outwardly violent and aggressive towards others, but pretty passionate and heartfelt once he cares for someone. Alfred the Cat comes to mind. So maybe Damian takes one look at this supposedly scary Thing and thinks, "It looks like Father."

As in, Dark as Night? A shadow inspiring fear amongst criminals? Spoken about in whispers, sometimes laughed off as a joke but still cautiously reverent, just in case?

Danny's new name is Batman.

Of course, this causes some confusion when Damian comes home to Wayne Manor and says, "Batman and I will retire to my room." In front of Bruce, who naturally and kind-of-correctly assumes his son picked up another animal while on patrol. Bruce had a hard time explaining this to a very concerned Dick, who was holding up a wooden stake and a bible (Dick totally wasn't going to kill Bruce if he turned out to be a vampire but it's always good to be prepared!), after Damian apparently made a wayward comment that "Batman refuses to eat anything besides raw meat."

And Danny is having a great time!! Sure, Damian treats him like a pet, but he gets affectionate pats on the head, incredibly expensive steak, and a soft place to sleep. He awkwardly dragged several blankets from the living room to Damian's room to make a bed in the kid's closet. (Alfred watched from behind the couch as this six-legged hairy-ish catlike Thing determinedly waddled with three blankets in its mouth, occasionally tripping on its own legs. He went back to dusting the crown moulding silently. So, that's why Master Damian requested uncooked sirloin steak twelve times in last few days. Hm.)

So, the Batfam accept there is another Batman in the family. Except they haven't actually seen Danny (aside from Alfred and Damian).

Until Dick needs to talk to Damian and goes into the boy's room. But it's empty?? He could've sworn he heard somebody talking or something in here, but maybe not? He turns to leave and then hears it again: a soft kind of thump coming from Damian's armoire. A shit-eating grin spreads across his face as his Older Brother Instincts kick in. Jason used to hide in closets and try to scare Dick when he was little; Damian, despite being a child soldier and trained assassin, was still a little kid at heart, right? The kid's clearly hiding from Dick to scare him or something.

(Damian was in the Batcave, studiously typing "Google, what non-Earth animals reside in Gotham, please?" into the Batcomputer. I like to think that Damian uses the internet like a 85-year old man who thinks a Google employee personally replies to each question.)

So, Dick creeps forward and abruptly slams open the armoire doors!! Only to let out an unholy shriek of terror as Danny, who was taking a nap, frantically skitters out of the closet looking like a Frankenstein cat-dog with bat wings. He crawls under Damian's bed as Dick scrambles into the hallway.

The cat-dog-Thing is out of the bag now. Damian looks utterly deadpan as he explains that Batman is his pet and not to concern themselves with it; Bruce, Tim, Jason, and a white-faced Dick disagreed. They need to see it to make sure the Thing won't harm anybody, especially considering it's fucking living with them!! How do they know it won't try to eat them in their sleep??

"Batman does not eat raw human meat, Todd. Why are you concerned now? It has resided with us for two months now."

"Two months?" Dick nearly faints (again).

"Yes, Batman is very well-behaved, Master Dick." Alfred, who's been feeding Danny for the last two months and has seen all the little quirks the Thing has, offers a consoling half-smile.

Ultimately, the Batfam decide to keep Batman in exchange for scary dog privileges. They'll have to think of another name for Danny considering having two Batmans in Gotham would be pretty confusing (especially if one of them decided they did, in fact, like raw human flesh).

[potato-lord-but-not]

Around 8 months ago (I can't believe its been that long either) you answered an ask about what Arthur Lester and his 3 bf's ideal positions were (top/bottom/switch), and, just out of curiosity, have you changed your mind at all about your answers? Or is John still a top, Oscar still a bottom, and Noel & Arthur both switches?

ITS BEEN THAT LONG ?!?!!?! good god oufghc anyway anyway- I think that has changed a bit and I’ll put my ramblings under cut bc well. there’s probably a bit more detail than you want out on your tumblr dash

okay Arthur hasn’t changed, he’s still a switch in my heart. I think John is still mainly a top, but he dabbles in switching positions. Like if someone realllllyyyy wants to top he’ll be like “okay :)”

Noel is definitely just a top, and he tried being the bottom once and was content to not try it again (even if Oscar was patient and gentle). Although he does top, he’s not much for penetrative sex. He has some problems getting like, physically aroused (also aforementioned preferences- he’s a bit of a voyeur, he’s got those monsterfucker tendencies, whatever the fuck he and the butcher had going on) and therefore likes to get creative with it. He definitely likes to have a bit of control during sex, not being possessive but just being in the lead.

Oscar is mainly still a bottom but I think he can switch it up if he wants because he’s hot like that. Im pretty sure this might directly contradict my earlier statements, b u t- it took him a while to be comfortable being the top, because he’s had very negative connotations with that position. He didn’t like the idea of the power imbalance during sex it could make, and that he’d be the one creating it. With enough patience tho he was willing to give it go with someone he trusted (Noel probably, and although that didn’t do much for Noel he was still great at giving pointers). Annddd I think that’s why I like bottom John and top Oscar together bc they’re going against their usual preferences and trusting the other to give them something they don’t usually get.

I feel bad for writing whole paragraphs for Noel and Oscar and jarthur just gets to share a single sentence um OOPS- uhhh o k a y

John! a switch with top preferences! he gets really aggressive with Arthur but that’s just because Arthur matches his energy. I think he also talks a lot during sex, mainly giving affirmations and praise. With Noel tho- if he’s still human then they’re just having a teasing match. Noel likes to bring out the flirt and get under John’s skin, and John is trying so hard to keep up without just being an ass. Monster John and Noel tho? all bets are off and they’re getting real freaky with it. John still makes sure to be careful and check in often incase he does something that might hurt Noel. And Noel’s like sweetheart I don’t caarrrrreeee pleaassseeee get those tendrils around me. And with Oscar he’s verrrryyyyy careful. Like he could most definitely get more rough with him, but he doesn’t want to do something wrong and have Oscar never want to be near him again. So he’s real gentle, placing more emphasis on foreplay and closeness than actual sex.

and Arthur! the guy I think about the least somehow! sorry king! a switch that is a horny little freak at heart. He’s up for a lot of things and will be down to try anything if his partner thinks they’ll like it. He’s definitely got more of a dominant personality, and I think that’s verryyy evident with, surprise surprise, Parker! Those two had some wweiirrdddd dynamics going on and thought of flirting and sex like some kinda secret game they both wanted to win. Arthur gets manipulative sometimes, but only if he knows the other person would enjoy it. I think since he’s aro, he’s got less romantic attachment to sex, and thus just really likes having sex to unwind or have some fun.

OUG I RAMBLED TOO HARD SORRY I’ll leave

[maxispixels]

We were here once - The train station

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

1/6(?)

Part 1 > Part 2

1.5k words

Ah London. You ran away from that city a long time ago, but there are things you can't escape forever. Feelings, for one. So you come back, tracing the fading footsteps of your past, hoping to see the boy you left behind.

Warnings: general teenage angst, self indulging Im14andthisisdeep

“I didn’t want to make it hard, 

I think we both hate goodbyes.”

You stepped off the train at its last stop, London. You had only put foot in this railway station once before, and it was the day you left. The wind whipped your face, cold and unforgiving, dragging you out of the wagon’s borrowed warmth. London had never been kind to you, and today was no exception. It welcomed you like a slap. The smell of wet asphalt made your nose curl, and you swore it smelled worse here than anywhere else in Great Britain, than anywhere else in the world. It smelled of metal and pollution and blood. Of something foul that assaulted your nostrils and made shivers run down your spine.

It hadn’t changed. London was still London. Bigger and smaller all at once. The same tall red bricks, the same industrial bones, columns and metal arms clutching the glass ceiling like Atlas holding the world, while the grey clouds pressed down, heavy enough to fall. People rustled everywhere, carrying their heavy luggage, running against time while you walked right back into it. 

Destinations written in orange letters, buzzing, dizzying you with choices, so many places better than here, maybe because they weren’t tainted by your presence. It was like a list of possibilities, many you had checked off during your journey.

If it had been hard to leave, it was harder to come back. It felt like crawling back into the mouth that chewed you up and spat you out. Like climbing up to the sharp teeth with the dial tower that still stood as the metronome in your sleep.

You gazed at every face, hoping to find his. Hoping that he might still be here, like he’d never left this station, like he’d been waiting all along. 

The deafening bells rang for the doors of the departing trains, rang for another chance to run the way you did before. You didn’t feel like you were coming back home to your hometown. It never felt like home. That was why you left. Better to be a stranger anywhere else than here, where you were supposed to belong.

Every whiff of leather made your head turn, eyes lingering over strangers who didn’t even look like him — just in case. Just in case time had changed him far beyond recognition, the way it changed you. Still, you focused on wicks and lanky silhouettes, similar to the one that stayed on the platform that fateful day. 

You couldn’t picture his expression when you left for good, probably because you never gave him one. But you remembered the bench you both sat on, the tile he stood on.

You didn’t say you were going, though you meant to at first. You had been too scared. You couldn’t handle the disappointment, or worse, the apathy.

If he had asked you to stay, you would have, and it would have killed you. If he didn’t care at all, you could’ve left, but it would’ve killed you just the same.

You resented him for making you consider staying in the first place. If you had never met him, then maybe it would’ve been easier, then maybe every new joy wouldn’t have been tinted by his absence. 

Or maybe you resented him for only meeting you in June. For allowing you a single summer before you were gone. Three poor months, nothing in the human lifespan, engraved in your soul like a cigarette burn that refused to heal. Maybe if you had met earlier, you would’ve never felt the need to leave in the first place. Or maybe he would’ve followed you.

You’d planned to go early in the morning, before the first thin rays of daylight. Your departure was to be like your presence had been: quiet, discreet, unremarkable, as if you'd never even been there at all. But somehow, he found you anyway. 

“So you’re really leaving?”

He plopped down on the bench next to you, awkwardly fidgeting with his bracelet. It caught the low blue lights, a frayed thing wrapped around his wrist, like something holding him together. Yours matched, still on your wrist, then and now.

You nodded, staring straight ahead. You couldn’t look at his face, at his eyes and see what feelings collided in a sea of golds and honeys and browns, sweet enough to pull you in, too thick to swim in, and deep enough to drown. 

You braced yourself for something sharp, for him to mock you for even trying in the first place, to jab at your cowardice for running away. He didn’t, not this time. Did he, ever? Did you just hope he would, so you could find a reason to miss him less?

“You know where you’re going?” he asked. “Got somewhere to stay?”

Another nod. He sighed. You couldn’t tell if it was relief that you weren’t completely reckless, or disappointment that he’d lost an excuse to tell you to stay.

Your train wasn't due for fifteen minutes. He waited with you. Until the last second and maybe the hours that followed, in case you took the train back. You wouldn’t know. You didn’t come back.

“You okay?” 

You nodded again, though it wasn’t exactly true. You felt strangely light, weightless, numb maybe. All your fears, all your hopes, culminating into that one moment. Your whole life packed into one backpack and a vague destination, maybe by the sea, maybe overseas. Maybe just anywhere that wasn’t here.

But it gnawed at you. Leaving Hobie behind. The only thing about this place you didn’t hate. The one tie that made running away feel like a betrayal instead of an escape.

“Can you talk to me, please?” His voice cracked a little, not quite a plea but close. “I need to hear your voice.”

“Sorry,” you murmured. “Wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Just… yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Silence wrapped around you both, thick and suffocating. Your heart was a mess with excitement, fear, grief all tangled up in the same beat.

“I hope you find it,” he said eventually, so soft you almost missed it.

“Find what?”

“Whatever you’re looking for.”

You nodded, your best and only language that morning. It soothed something in you, hearing that. The kindness in it. He was letting you go without making you feel guilty for leaving him behind. No bitterness. Just understanding. More than you deserved, maybe.

“Be safe, yeah?”

“Promise.”

The only promise you made out loud was the one you broke first. You had been reckless, and you collected scars and marks like souvenirs. But it shaped you into who you are. Like a coward high on adrenaline, finding a fix only through running away, you were doomed to danger once the fear was left behind. The scars were parts of what you were looking for. You were wearing them like badges of honor, like Hobie wore his.

When there was one minute left before your train, Hobie hugged you tight, and for a second, you thought he wouldn’t let you go (and for a second, you were okay with that). 

The train was delayed by a few minutes, so that hug lasted longer than either of you planned. You don’t know how you both held it together, didn’t crack into sobs right there on the platform. Maybe because you both knew that one single tear, one wobble in your voice,  would’ve made you stay, and you needed to leave more than words could say. 

The train doors opened with a sigh, like the city itself was telling you to go. You didn’t hesitate. You couldn’t afford to. One second of doubt and the whole thing would crumble. 

You weren’t sure if you regretted it or not, even now.

You kept your back to him. You didn’t dare to look at him directly, preferring to meet his gaze in the distorted reflection of the curved metal inside the wagon.

Neither of you said goodbye. It would’ve sounded too final, too much like forever. And with how long it took you to come back, it might as well has been.

It was only when you sat in the train and reached for some water in your bag that you found his note. It was something simple, genuine, like him. You still had it in the pocket of your jacket, crumbled, the ink almost completely vanished. 

You held onto it all that time, like a lucky charm, the last piece of him you allowed yourself because reaching out would've too painful. Tucked inside your bracelet, ruined by sweat, tears and rain. It was barely legible, but you knew the words by heart, that’s how many times you reread it.

He stayed on the platform that morning, and so did a part of your heart, but neither of you knew that yet.

And now, you needed it back. Standing here again, you knew exactly why you returned.

What you left in this forsaken city — the city that forsake you first — was mostly gone, scattered in the wind like ashes. Still, as you made your way out of the station and into the restless pulse of London, it all came rushing back.

The memories you wished to forget, and the ones you ached to remember better. 

The streets that saw you grow up, the concrete that caught your tears, the soil that molded your spine, the hands that still held pieces of your soul preciously. 

You needed to scrap whatever had subsisted back, teeth and nails if you had to.

Part 2

👉👈👉👈👉👈🫠 hiiii sooo

[alicentsgf]

its interesting how nat and shauna are such parallels of each other. both the skeptics of the group, forced into acting out roles they dont want to play because the others believe its the will of some higher power

shauna forced to be the butcher. when she chose to pick up that knife she couldn't have known where it would lead. that she'd have butcher javi alone, pulling cloth over her eyes so she doesnt have to fully experience the horror of it. because they have to eat and everyone is looking to her to make that possible. to take the burden of making a person into meat so they dont have to face the reality. they look to the wilderness to allieviate their guilt, so they can tell themselves it was the will of some higher power, where shauna just stews in it, burdened by the actual weight of her choices. sending jackie to her death, telling the others jackie wanted them to eat her, telling them to wait as javi drowned. at every turn shes made the hard choice for them, to keep them all alive. every time she strips a carcass shes stripping away her own humanity a little more as she relives the moment she had to cut into the dead body of a 14 yr old boy who was good and kind and that she liked. and the others cant ever fully appreciate the burdens shes taken on for them, because then they'd have to face the actual visceral, bloody truth of what they've all done.

just as they cant appreciate nats sacrifice either. nat whos forced to lead, chosen as a direct result of javis death, of letting him die. letting the boy who risked his own life to try and save her die in her place. every day when the others look to her to lead shes reminded of the choice that got her here. but she still does it, because she knows they all need her to play this part. she knew coach was out there surviving, she could have tried to find him and left the others to fend for themselves, but how could she. she doesnt feel she deserves to live, at least not peacefully. she thinks she deserves the burden after what shes done. shes isolated, asked to make all the hard choices, to people manage, when so much of it is not her strength. and not only does she just play the part, she does her absolute best for them because Nats tragedy is she cares so so much about people, she can't stop caring even when they’ve hurt her. and it works. its GOOD. they build something good out of the fucking ashes. so good they can play games, waste food, and have petty fights !! so good they begin to forget just how bad the winter was.

they both did too good a job. these 2 non-believers carried the burden so well the others dont even see how much they've sacrificed for them. they all thank the wilderness when if anyone saved them, it was shauna and nat. and now everything they've built is going to burn because these two girls couldnt see each others pain clearly. even though they should be able to understand each other best. they’re both crushed by the expectations placed on them by the others, with no faith to abate their grief and shame, all of it changing them so deeply they're becoming unrecognisable to themselves, let alone each other. their little moment of telling each other to be safe in the cave is going to haunt me. probably not as badly as its going to haunt them though.

[willowser]

katsuki wakes up slow, adrift in calm waters.

everything's warm. not hot, but comfortable enough that tension and ache have melted from his muscles like butter. hard to say the last time he ever felt so relaxed, so softened and spread out—maybe aldera? before ua and the war, before there were phantom pains in his arm and torn tendons in his knees. before he could sleep without nightmares and a never-satiated guilt, when he only dreamt of a bright future.

this is like that. golden, ethereal. he shifts with a gentle tide, suspended in time, welcomed by the silence. water trickles across the contours of his stomach and leaves goosebumps in its wake; meets over the tops of his thighs, submerges his hips.

you splay your hands across the plane of his tattered chest slowly, feeling the flush he's sure has spread from his cheeks. he doesn't know when you got here or how and he doesn't question it, either, only peers up at you from heavy, lidded eyes, watches the way your tits squeeze together when you stretch forward.

it's exhilarating to look at your body, knocks the breath out of him in a way that churns his gut. he almost doesn't realize he's looking at you until he drags a wet hand over the curve of your waist and down the slope of your navel, up across your sternum, to thumb at the peak of your nipples.

some distant moral voice in the back of katsuki's mind wonders if he should be seeing you like this, naked and exposed, and—horribly—the idea that he shouldn't has his balls drawing in tight, his nerves going fuzzy under his skin. all the blood rushes to his lower half and he's harder than he's ever been in his life.

it's not uncomfortable, though, like it usually is; everything is still calm, trembling, new and tender. you spread your legs and settle further into his lap and it nudges him deeper into your body, envelops him to the root. his head falls back on a moan that rips through his chest before he can stop it, and he should be embarrassed for sounding so desperate beneath you, but the scorch of it through his lungs feels right, natural.

you haven't said anything and still don't, only let out a quiet, blissful sigh that he's thought about too often, before pulling yourself off of him to the tip, waiting until his cock twitches impatiently, and then sheathing him to the hilt. again and again and again.

you're fucking yourself on him. the idea makes him dizzy, has him grasping for something, anything under the water. if he doesn't anchor himself somehow, he'll dissolve, melt down until there's nothing left—and yet katsuki raises head, because he has to watch the way he disappears inside of you, the way your mouth drops open and your eyebrows furrow.

it draws another embarrassing sound out of his throat, an even worse one when you lean back, steady yourself with flat palms on his thighs. the change in angle has him rocking against things that make him shudder, that make you shudder, and his whole body jolts when you meet his heavy stare.

it hits him all at once, every untamed urge he's been suppressing: you want this. you want him, katsuki. there's a slick smear in the hair at the base of his cock because—you fucking want this. him. it makes you feel good—he does. the certainty of it is something he's wanted for so long, been desperate and scared to uncover.

god—and he's wanted this with you, too. longer than he's willing to admit, before he even knew it, maybe. it's debauched and greedy but he doesn't give a damn, and he wants to do this with you again and again, as many times as you'll let him.

every time you've smiled at him in the hallway and put a hand on his arm and laughed at something that wasn't funny—he's wanted this. you send a molten tidal wave of want crashing into him, and he's tried to hold it back, to prove he's not some brainless meathead, but—

you want this, too.

it all makes so much sense now, a fucking dream come true.

katsuki reaches up to grab you by the arms, too roughly, though you just laugh when he pulls you down to him. he's wanted to kiss you for so long and he finally does, open-mouthed and hot, against your teeth because of your smile, and he rolls you both over so he can press his face into your hair and rut his hips—

katsuki wakes up slowly, and doesn't open his eyes.

his heartbeat drums in his ears, deep and a little painful, enough to warn him of a future headache if he doesn't move. and that's wrong.

everything is wrong.

the a/c is cooling sweat on his back and his foot is hanging off the bad and he's on his stomach, cheek smushed into his sheets. he's distantly aware that he's crossed a threshold he can't return from, but he doesn't want to believe that. not yet.

if he squeezes his eyes tight enough, he can still feel the lingering warmth, your hungry touch. katsuki tries his best to hold onto it and—it's okay. not as good as it once was, but he forces every thought from his mind that isn't you. tries to burn the image of you on top of him into his eyelids.

it works him over the edge easily, insignificantly. his dick pulses as his climax fades as quickly as it came, but there's not a hint of relief. all his muscles are stiff, coiled, drawn taut at the rapidly dissolving images in his mind.

already, he can't remember what you sounded like. not that it was really you, because he's never heard you like that, but—there's nothing now.

when he opens his eyes, he's alone. in his bedroom at near 4 am, a gross patch of drool growing at his mouth. he doesn't have to be up for several hours, doesn't have to be at the agency for several more. he's on for a night patrol and he won't come into the office until after everyone's gone home and that usually bothers him. because it means he'll miss seeing you.

but it must be a blessing in disguise this time around, because katsuki has no idea how he'll ever look at you again after this.

hey gang. not gonna lie to you, i have been unable to think about anything other than bakugou having a wet dream about you for days.

[groverapologist]

i think two things can be true at once so when i say i think rick didn't plan on piper being queer until years after she was introduced and until he saw years worth of fan reception and reactions + i think piper being queer is amazing and makes complete sense for her character arc and explains a lot about the way she has acted in the books starting as early as TLH, i do not see them as contradictory or wrong.

[defiledtomb]

merry xmas! im drinking rum with aleks and listening to some really old techno. i blurted everything about ouro and all the tough things surrounding, and its future, and i got so excited i yelled and yodeled into the dead and dark forest. it's been such. such a good christmas. 2025 got nothing on me. we live we die and we fucking live again. hold my hand. giggle with me. have some zacapa. i love you

[deoidesign]

Hello! I just discovered your blog and I immediately became captivated by your webcomic, but I'm unsure where to read all of it. I know it's on Webtoons, but I can see it hasn't been updated for a while, and you still post about it.

Are your physical novels just prints of the webcomic? Are they a continuation? Is the story complete? Thanks in advance!

Hi there!

Glad you found me and are enjoying my comic!

It's only on webtoons, and the story is not complete yet! We're 2/3 of the way through right now. It's currently on hiatus, and it's scheduled to come back in about 2 months!

I'll explain why it's been so long if you're curious, but also for my followers who might also be wondering about it under the cut. Sorry, it's pretty much just me complaining haha

I took a month off I took 2 months to get the books printed I took a month to prepare my next comic and I took 2 months to write the rest of the series (I knew the character arcs I wanted, but not the time periods or mysteries!!!) I've been working on actual episodes since then

I had to take some time off because of some pretty extreme burnout due to the sheer amount of work it was to draw over 800 pages and write 6 complete stories in a year and a half... I was getting sick almost weekly due to the overwork, it was really really bad honestly. I was having to work 60+ hours every week just to keep up...

The nature of the comic itself is also difficult... Each of the arcs is a complete, self contained story which can be read (ideally) without context, and my arcs need to be about 10-13 episodes each... And since I have an exact number of episodes to work with, it's even harder.

It takes a ton of planning and a ton of refinement, and working week to week with no breaks I was forced to put out second or even first drafts, so I just wasn't happy with the work I was doing... And to do that for the rest of the series? I wouldn't be proud of the work I did.

Plus... To be entirely honest, webtoon has treated me quite badly IN MY OPINION... They deprioritized me before I launched (I had to beg for more promotion, I'm not exaggerating), they outright denied me the opportunity to even ask for a raise, I don't make any money on fast pass and they pay me less than my partner makes working at trader joes. My first editor left me completely hanging, my second editor (who I loved) was fired... And they told me I wouldn't get a third season before my first season even finished. So it was just repeatedly completely demoralizing.

I'm sorry it has taken so long, it'll have been 10 months by the time I come back. But I realized... I won't get promotion either way. I won't get more episodes either way. I won't get more money either way. So to finish everything, to make it feel good, to make it something I'm proud of, I chose to take longer to make it better.

I am fully aware I will lose a significant amount of my readership for this and it might genuinely affect my career moving forward. But it's what I had to do! So I'm sticking to my guns on it, and I'm confident long term it'll be worth it. It never could have been this good if I didn't take this much time.

[doctorweebmd]

ok my OTHER reflection:

on the one hand its really frustrating to see the posts about docs and healthcare in general on here be so narrow-minded. bad experiences with certain providers have lead to a huge spread of misinformation and mistrust with the whole system. which can and HAS lead to people avoiding 'evil' doctors for perfectly treatable illnesses and dying from them (the vaccine bullshit, anyone?)

but on the other hand. it is TERRIFYING how some of these docs practice medicine. at times i think 'are you just burned out and don't give a shit or are you straight up just stupid?' and i work in critical care. where quite literally every case is life or death. even in the academic sector where there is supposedly a standard of excellence, some doctors i would not let touch my loved ones with a ten foot pole.

and that sucks. i know this is the no nuance piss on the poor webbed site but 'the medical system and people that work for it are fallible and aspects of it are morally questionable at best/unethical at worst' AND 'the field of medicine exists to help people first and foremost and mistrusting/avoiding it can be detrimental in the long run' can and DO co-exist

[nonsensechemicals]

crying whenever i talk about Cookie9 because all my friends have these interesting and unique theories on them while i take everything too literally and they all just stare at me like “dude… uuugh we r TIRED” <-they dont actually say this they are very kind to me but i can Feel It

[marsixm]

no im not saying this is a unique experience no im not saying im uniquely worse off or whatever for this but its an interesting thing abt my life that i quite literally can never return to certain places from my past. like thats usually mostly a metaphor, or half true, but like for example the high school i went to was being remodeled as i went there. there are buildings i spent hours in ever day for years that just dont exist anymore, and it happened within like a year of leaving. the auditorium was even worse bc i first performed on that stage when i was like 4? its gone too. right before i moved out of my childhood home i had to move all the furniture around for a slapdash and disruptive remodel. everything is gutted and rearranged and looks different. id say barely it functions as a house but it was a hoarder house growing up, so the functionality is probably equal, except now i guess its empty instead of over-full. even the house i lived in w my friends was drastically remodeled into some kind of workshop when they finally moved. even the big tree in the front is gone. my grandmother's house had to be remodeled after it got flooded in hurricane harvey. the dance teacher & studio head i had for a decade died. like god damn the liminal spaces sure do be liminal (im sorry)

[s4pphoiduser]

maybe a little corny but idrc i guess. so: maybe i'm just getting older or maybe my age/aging is totally unrelated to all this but i find that these days, now that i've grown out of being an angsty teen looking for anger and hate in every corner of the world, i find that now i am more struck by kindness, especially in fictional worlds that are harsh and demand a character let go of their kindness and inherent goodness to survive and never be taken advantage of or things like that. i like when characters are so kind that it's truly truly one of their core traits. i know it's not exactly rare, but these days... kinda feels like it. i'm always struck by characters who fight to be good and kind and still believe in fickle things like love and other people. characters whose kindness make others wary of them and draw them closer simultaneously. characters whose goodness and insanely strong (fought-for) sense of love and humanity (and i don't mean humanity like humankind as a whole; i mean a person's sense of humanity, i mean people. i mean people need people. i mean people need closeness and love and things that like that) makes others around them more likable and ... human. characters whose kindness/goodness/big big big hearts humanize everyone who gets the chance to be basked in the glow of that beauty.

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

since i have been using this as more of a journal recently anyway i figured i’d share another success/joy from today!

i did end up getting out to walk up my big hill, and it was wonderful! and saw many cool things!

i saw two bear cubs up a tree (thankfully they and Mama were on the other side of a fence in someone’s backyard), a bunny, a stoat, and two hummingbirds chasing each other as the sun set!

i even made friends with an older woman who also saw the stoat, because she had never seen one and didn’t know what it was at first. sometimes people are cool and wholesome. (also yes my first thought was Burrow’s End. my second thought was Pantelimon and yes i know in the book he settles as a pine marten not a stoat)

OH! and i saw some puffball mushrooms.

overall 10/10 chill but productive solo day ✨

[altarplay]

i guess it's good to have confirmation that our best is everyone's elses mediocre. lack of effort. doesn't care enough. etc.

[lethea1969]

I honestly don't know what to say because if your entire argument hinges on the fact that you want less dead Palestinians then not voting/voting third party is Absolutely NOT the choice supported by your argument. Honestly what part of Trump Will Be WORSE! do you not understand? Like please look up harm reduction omg. Do you think that some sort of miracle is going to appear out of thin air and create a candidate that doesn't want to support Israel to some extent? Or are you just one of those people who want the world to get worse (like Hamas) to force a revolution ala the rapture.

Like fr I think the only reason people just aren't paying attention to Trump's plans and making such a fuss about Biden is because he Is the sitting president. No where near the amount of accusations towards other people in the US government or who have the potential to be in the US government (cough *Trump* cough).

Really giving "people pissed off at Martin Van Buren about the economy under his presidency even tho all the decisions that created the crappy economy happened under Andrew Jackson" energy.

Look.

I have made you a chart. A very simple chart.

People say "You have to draw the line somewhere, and Biden has crossed it-" and my response is "Trump has crossed way more lines than Biden".

These categories are based off of actual policy enacted by both of these men while they were in office.

If the ONLY LINE YOU CARE ABOUT is line 12, you have an incredible amount of privilege, AND YOU DO NOT CARE ABOUT PALESTINIANS. You obviously have nothing to fear from a Trump presidency, and you do not give a fuck if a ceasefire actually occurs. You are obviously fine if your queer, disabled, and marginalized loved ones are hurt. You clearly don't care about the status of American democracy, which Trump has openly stated he plans to destroy on day 1 he is in office.

[zannies-joestar-hut]

merl mei qi gets better with every appearance