#and writing again?

[heartbreakincident]

nothing but respect for our troops (smut writers) but listen. i dont want to be the person to tell you this, but not every character is going to be a dom or a sub. some people. and i know this is hard to hear. but some people do have vanilla sex. and some of those people might even be The Character.

[valtsv]

im one of the angels assigned to guard god's throne and i keep shaving a piece of wood off one of the legs so it gets progressively thinner and weaker until one day it will snap like a matchstick and the big man will topple from his seat of power to grace the ground with his holy ass. of course he's omniscient so he already knows this and will have to banish me from heaven when it happens, but because of free will he has to give me the option to repent right until the very end. we both know i'm not going to do it but the rules that define our very being won't let us take any other course of action and besides he made me this way, so really the joke's on him no matter what.

[two-bees-poetry]

the grief of growing

[starbuck]

is this ship popular because it’s legitimately compelling or is it popular because it’s the easiest to decontextualize and write college roommate AUs about?

[wishfulsketching]

I have finally finished season 2 of Arcane and can now enjoy your art without fear!!! They should be happy together 🥺

I take it "they" means zaundads because that is what I've been drawing the most BUT, lets be honest, applies to like 98% of the characters in the show.

They should've been a big happy familyyyy

[wraetingsonthewall]

sometimes your brain really just offers you one banger of a sentence and then that's it for the entire rest of the day. creativity expired, the ability to think has clocked out for the day, context for as to how we even get to this sentence? sorry we're all out. this one sentence is all you get.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[frownyalfred]

good….let the spite flow through you….write the new chapter just to take a stand….

[breannasfluff]

^ So I saw this post

And then these comments

Which makes me sad?

It’s already so hard to convince readers to be perceived and that commenting has value.

If you don’t want the deranged comments, please send them to me instead haha!

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Feel free to use, or message me for more banners

yes, I'm self-aware thank you

[bluegiragi]

don't look.

early access + nsfw on patreon

This piece is fanart from a scene in Chapter 5 of @stinglesswasp's fic "Seasons", where Johnny is there for Simon in one of his most vulnerable moments. If you haven't already, give this fic a read and drop a kudos/leave a nice comment if you enjoyed!

[chiptrillino-art]

something stranger and more wonderful

(ID in ALT text)

my art for @faux-fires (ao3 Link) fic "something stranger and more wonderful"

beta red by @ranilla-bean (ao3 Link) for this years @zukkabigbang2024 event. its truly a beautiful fic. Keeping you on your toes while reading. making you worry about sokka exposed to the whims of nature and zuko, all alone.

big thank you to reikah and rana for all the handholding during this project! And stoping me form overthinking details.

[tender-traps]

ohhh we love a good “forced to torture your friend while undercover as a bad guy” don’t we

like. when you meet their eyes and you both know you have to do it and you have to do it well

[constellationandcompendium]

Snippet Sunday

“Is that your father?” Maral asked, back still ramrod straight despite it being two hours into the post ceremony mingling with no end in sight.

Aster sighed. “Yes.”

“You’ll have to introduce me once he’s finished up there.”

Aster had spent the last three years doing everything in her power to avoid precisely that. Much like her father, Maral was aggressively friendly and Aster had been concerned that if they were ever in the same room for too long it might just be the end of reality as they knew it.

Maral was her second roommate. The first met Mr Kobor once at the end of orientation week and had been so overwhelmed that they’d transferred back to Lunar Two. Maral, however, was Mongolian and made of the sternest stuff Earth could offer. In their second year she had once eaten Liridian gel for a dare and hadn’t been phased by either the taste or the mild toxicity.

Across the hall, Aster caught sight of her father making his apologies with an excessive amounts of handshakes and – Sol save her – a single hug for their astrophysics instructor.

Mrs Kobor, thankfully, was busy integrating herself with the other parents and guardians and had blended into the crowd so completely it took Aster several scans to spot her in spite of the bright yellow sari. But it wasn’t her mother who was filling her attention at the moment, it was the rapid approach of her father with the crowd parting before him like the red sea before Moses.

“No need,” she told Maral. “Brace yourself.”

“Aster my little starlight,” Mr Kobor wrapped her in a bear hug and lifted her straight off the ground. Growing up on Titan didn’t come with many advantages but the lower-than-Earth gravity and regular space trips had prepared Aster for life aboard the Fleet station in orbit with its artficial Earth-standard gravity better than those who had never been to the planet.

There was a reason orientation week was also known as barf week.

It also meant that when her father heaved her up, he didn’t get nearly as high as normal, saving her uniform from becoming too badly ruffled.

“Major Daws was just telling me about all the exciting new projects the Fleet has planned,” Mr Kobor said as he finally put her down. “Did you know that - ”

“Baba,” Aster pitched her voice low so as to not have it carry, and to prevent her father from accidentally announcing what was probably Fleet secrets to the entire room. “This is Maral.”

Mr Kobor’s gaze turned to her roommate and it was like two magnets coming together.

“Maral! How wonderful to meet you, we’ve heard so much about you.” The words came with a pointed look that Aster equally pointedly ignored.

“Thank you Mr Kobor.”

“Oh please, call me Vikram.”

“Vikram, the pleasure is mine.”

Aster was quietly impressed that Maral wasn’t bouncing with the force of the handshake.

“You are an engineer, correct?”

As the conversation devolved into discussions around the technical construction of carbon dioxide absorption plates and artificial gravity circulation without the universe imploding Aster gave herself a mental pat on the back.

One more disaster averted.

Taglist:

@televisionjester @pb-dot

[seiwas]

just thought about stepdad bakugo being caught off guard the first time your teenage son calls him “dad” 🥺

it’s after years of being with you. their relationship isn’t bad by any means—it’s okay; it’s good. but your son has called him katsuki for the longest time, and he was happy with that, perfectly content even (at least, he thought he was).

it was enough that your boy dubbed his cooking “the best in the entire universe and beyond”; it was enough that your boy trusted him enough with a few harmless secrets that you may never know. it was enough that you’d both welcomed him into your home, into your lives, in a way that’s made him feel like he belongs.

it was enough (at least, he thought it was), until your kid comes home with a group of friends one day and they ask him, “who’s the guy in your backyard?”

between the scrapes of soil against his gardening shovel and mild hearing problems, katsuki shouldn’t have been able to hear anything—but he hears this loud and clear.

your kid tells his friends, “oh, that’s just my dad,” like it’s the most obvious, natural thing in the world and it hits katsuki square in the chest.

the next thing he knows, he’s smiling, eyes a little wet but not yet crying (—is what he’ll tell you later). it’s a small curve of his lips, but it stays plastered on until the moment you come home.

you wonder, when the three of you are cleaning up after dinner, “what’s got you all smiley today?”

he looks at you, back a little straighter and chest puffed out just a bit more. then, he glances at your son just an earshot away, wiping the table clean; he turns to you, mumbling, “tell ya ‘bout it later.”

(like he’s got all the pride in the world, like he’s got all the love in the world).

[bluerosefox]

F*ck Forgiveness. I Want Vengeance.

Hmmmm

Another DeadTired idea. And Ghost King Danny with Consort Tim.

Tim dies a bitter ended death with the Batfam (Maybe during his RR run and isn't caught by Dick when he is kicked out of WE window? Or its in the future where his relationship between the bats is bad.)

So yeah Tim dies. And wakes in the Infinite Realms and learns to unlive in that Realm and gained a wonderful afterlife.

And somehow manages to gain the attention of the Ghost King, King Phantom and somehow manages to become his Consort after some adorable ghost courting.

Despite the fact he's been dead for like a few months in his original Realms timeline, time in the Infinite Realms is more ocean like than riverish, Tim has been happily married to his husband for what feels like eons.

So Tim was not, very very not happy when his ghost is suddenly pulled away from his anniversary dinner and stuffed back into his body.

He hears yelling and fighting, wakes to see the Bats fighting League Assassins while Batman is fighting Ra's in rage.

And Tim.

He isn't happy at all.

He already figured it out, connected the dots.

Oh Ra's was going to regret bringing him back. The Bats, and he KNOWS they should had respected his last wishes to be fucking cremated, ashes scattered in space, so THIS wouldn't had happened.

Cause Tim wasn't playing around anymore.