#ao3 would not be ready

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

The world would be over if I was good enough at writing to write fanfic

[patovpran]

Colin (angry and talking out of his ass) : You entrapped me and we shouldn't be married

Penelope: Alright (offers annulment)

Colin: Wait- not like that

[minusboy]

french exit, take two

[n0bluev]

@fushiglow hmm….wonder who i’d draw this for all of a sudden and why… 🤔🤔

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

choosing violence 10 + 16 + 22 !!!! >:333

ok u didnt specify a fandom but im just gonna do this for pd because its front and center in my mind !!!!!! oh boy i cant wait to be crucified for my opinions

10. worst part of fanon

this is a problem with every jrwi campaign and also like. most . other fandoms to be real. but it seems like my favorite characters are always the ones that get the worst of the mischaracterization beam -_- i cant tell you HOW MANY fics ive opened bc the premise sounds cool only to IMMEDIATELY close it due to "he would not fucking say that" this isnt pd but if i have to read one more fic that infantilizes gillion for not understanding Land Things im going to blow up. hes stupid sometimes yeah! but hes not ignorant and hes not a baby hes like. literally the oldest one on the crew even if its only by a year or two. head in hands

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

ok im gonna get burnt at the stake for this one but i personally dont really see the appeal of tfem ashe... like i see the appeal yeah of course i do i just dont get why people are so like... weirdly forceful and passive aggressive about it? also this is totally a personal thing no hate to anyone that does this but its kind of a peeve of mine when ppl write analysis posts ans use their headcanon pronouns like.... if u are going to talk about and analyze canon then talk about canon !!!! i cant tell u how many good ashe posts ive skipped over bc im like. we are talking about different characters here .. respect to ashe tfemers and everything but its not for me

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

THERE IS A DISTURBING LACK OF CLARENCE ALBERT FAN CONTENT. WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT MORE INSNAE ABOUT CLARENCE ALBERT. HELLO???? am i the only person that feels this way . can anyone hear me its so fucking dark in here. every day i just want to read a fic about clarence albert and i am met with this

and neither of them are . interesting to me. hell on earth. bizly PLEASE give me more clarence lore in season 3 im fucking starving.

[prongsandpetals]

When I think about movie Harry having almost no true reaction to finding out he has to sacrifice himself in deathly hallows, as if he knew it was coming, as if he was so dead inside that he was ready to die, compared to book Harry crumpled on the floor of the headmasters office— frozen with terror and fear, forcing every single step towards his death because he had so many people to live for, a piece of me dies inside.

Honestly a piece of me dies every time I’m taken out of my marauders bubble and remember Harry.

[pinkyaxe]

I have this fanfic idea for a while of "what if instead of Viva being left behind, Peppy does?"

In which Viva and most of the trolls that would become Putt Purt trolls got to get out of the tunnels and Viva has to become the Queen of Pop

This would include Clay raising Branch and helping to raise baby Poppy with Viva

I think growing up with people who take his issues seriously would be good for Branch

And Viva deserves to be a big sister (to Poppy and to Cooper and to Branch and-)

[waitineedaname]

“I’m the emperor. I could have a dozen alkahestrists on my doorstep tomorrow if I wanted. What I need, I only trust a couple people with.” He was being cagey, and Alphonse knew it. “Get to the point, Ling,” Al said, exasperated. Ling’s mouth quirked briefly in a smile, but he remained serious in tone. “I want you to help me bring Greed back,” Ling said, as though he were commenting on the weather and not talking about something that had haunted him for years. Alphonse stared at him, wide-eyed. A piece of eggplant slipped out from between his chopsticks and splatted on his plate.

if I want to read the content I want to see in the world, I'm gonna have to write it myself. please enjoy my "here's how greed can still live" agenda <3

[renabe4life]

Day 4 - Weapons | Hands

“You’re distracted.”

A whisper in his ear. He shivers. Had he any fight in him, he might reply in kind. Ask who’s fault that may be.

As he is, Clover would see through it in a heartbeat.

“Maybe,” Qrow says, testing his voice. He draws a shuddered breath, an extra moment granted to pluck out the words he needs, and leans further against the warm body at his back. He swallows hard. “Maybe you could… give me a reason to be distracted.”

~~Note that this fic is rated mature, though mostly for the eventual second chapter. Partner piece to this drawing

[yolowritter]

A Case of Ladybug Luck: Masterpost

Hello there everyone, and welcome to the waiting room of Hell! I cannot believe it's been an entire year since I started this AU and I never made this. But anyway, below you'll find a list of every chapter of A Case of Ladybug Luck, along with the fic's summary! Feel free to ask me about it, this AU is genuinely one of my favorites! It's really angsty, lots of good stuff here!

I will be updating this frequently with content from across this AU! Currently I have the main fic and the what-if fic, but more ideas are on the drawing board! You can find everything below the cut! I will be leaving the summary for ACOLL here, anyone interested is more than welcome to shoot me an ask! Please mind the tags and warnings for each chapter, and enjoy reading! Summary: Marinette doesn't think she can keep living like this. She never told Alya her secret, and her life is in shambles. Adrien is the only one who has noticed and tried to help, but he isn't enough. Lila has them both trapped in a web of lies they can't escape from, and their friends are all taking her side, unwilling to listen to either of them. She's losing hope. At least...at least Chat Noir noticed. She still had her partner. But when an oppurtunity presents itself to Marinette, the perfect chance to get away from this hellish existence and start brand new, she takes it, leaving Paris to deal with the consequences of her actions...

A Case of Ladybug Luck:

Arc 1: End of the Line

Chapter 1: End of the Line

Chapter 2: Last Night in Paris

Chapter 3: The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 4: Perfection's Shattering

Chapter 5: The Illusion of Living

Chapter 6: Cat's Cradle

Chapter 7: Spotted Trouble

Chapter 8: Let the Masks Fall

Chapter 9: Mastermind's Confession

Chapter 10: Aftermath

Arc 2: Liar Liar...Fauxfire

Chapter 11: Investigative Journalism

Chapter 12: Kind Stranger

Chapter 13: Fault and Forgiveness

Chapter 14: Thawed out Hearts

Chapter 15: Shopping Therapy

Chapter 16: Felix

Chapter 17: Remembrance of Gold Part 1

Chapter 18: Remembrance of Gold Part 2

Chapter 19: Marching Far Away

Chapter 20: Dearest Family

Chapter 21: Burn Our Bridges Down

Chapter 22: Ashen Ghosts

Chapter 23: Liar liar...

Chapter 24: Fauxfire

Arc 3: Tying the Noose

Chapter 25: It's Always Sunny

Chapter 26: Reunion

Chapter 27: Family Secrets

Chapter 28: Argos

Chapter 29: Ryuko

Chapter 30: The Rising Storm

Chapter 31: N/A

Chapter 32: N/A

Chapter 33: N/A

Chapter 34: N/A

Chapter 35: N/A

Chapter 36: N/A

Chapter 37: N/A

Chapter 38: N/A

Arc 4: Shadowmoth's Final Attack

Chapter 39: Shadowmoth's Final Attack Part 1

Chapter 40: Shadowmoth's Final Attack Part 2

A Case of Ladybug Luck: What If?

Chapter 1: What if...Chloe chased after Marinette?

Chapter 2: What if...Adrien ran away from home?

TBC

More projects TBA

[sisterdivinium]

Asymmetry

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Categories: F/F, Gen Relationship: Jillian Salvius/Mother Superion Characters: Mother Superion (Warrior Nun), Jillian Salvius

Mother Superion almost wishes she had not lost her scar at the thought of Jillian's own.

[maisonbelligavi]

Excerpt from Call It What You Want, a BelliGavi one-shot fanfic

Setting: Alternative Universe {football camp & college/university}

Pairing: Jude x Gavi

Trope: faux enemies to lovers, summer camp rivals

A few of the tags the fic itself will have: mutual pining, late night bus rides, bickering, sexual tension, making out, dirty talk, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, getting together, sappy as all hell, cause they’re both idiots in love

“What’s gonna be your major?”

“Microbiology.”

“Oh wow. That’s dope,” Jude said, thoroughly impressed.

“How about you?”

“Me?” Jude said, tone filled with surprise.

“Is there someone else here?”

“I’m studying architecture,” Jude said, couldn’t help the pride that seeped into his tone.

“Of course, you are,” Pablo snickered. “Makes perfect sense.”

Jude bristled at that. “What does that mean?”

“It means you probably can’t wait to design buildings as big and tall as your ego,” Pablo said, tone mocking. “I can’t even begin to imagine how much more narcissistic you will be then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” Pablo said, and then had the audacity to softly caress Jude’s flat stomach, his fingers digging into the ridges of his abs through his flimsy shirt. It was enough to give anyone whiplash.

“I have another question.” This time, it was an outright statement, and Jude was well aware he sounded a little ruffled. Okay, he was a lot ruffled. Who could blame him though? The beautiful boy in his arms was as maddening as they come.

“I’m still waiting for the question, Bellingham,” Pablo said, tone annoyingly patronizing, while his hand seemed to have a mind of its own, travelling up Jude’s abdomen, pressing into his muscles, practically cupping his pec. His shamelessness was as arousing as it was confusing.

Was this all a game to him?

“Why do you hate me?”

Out of all the responses he expected, Pablo bursting into uncontrollable laughter was the last one. And goddammit, but even the sound of it was fucking endearing to Jude. God, he was in such trouble, it was downright pathetic.

“What makes you think I hate you?” He sounded genuinely curious, looking up at Jude with the most innocent expression, beguiling eyes all wide and hypnotizing.

Jude feared he would go daft before the bus reached Madrid. Or ended up doing something he would be slapped for. Although from the way Pablo licked his lips while maintaining eye contact, maybe, just maybe, that slap would never come.

“Well…,” Jude started but he never finished. He licked his lips instead, staring into Pablo’s eyes, his gaze dropping to the younger boy’s lips.

“You were saying,” Pablo coaxed, biting his lower lip in a way that could only be interpreted as seductive. Oh, the little devil knew exactly what he was doing. Or at the very least he had some sort of idea of the effect it was having on Jude.

He wasn’t as innocent as he looked.

Not at all.

“You were always mad mean to me during games,” Jude said, and it sounded like he was whining but he couldn’t exactly be assed. “Always shoving and shouting and insulting.”

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings? Or was it just your ego that needs everybody to put you on a pedestal?”

“That’s not…God, that’s not what this is about. I’m trying to have a real conversation here.”

“So am I. I don’t understand why you’d come to the conclusion that I hated you based on something as flimsy as my foul attitude during games.”

“So, you do know it’s a foul attitude.”

“I am nothing if not self-aware.”

Then there was no way he didn't know his touch was turning Jude on, was there?

Had he meant to brush his fingers over Jude’s left nipple just now or was it an accident? Surely, he was close enough to hear his sharp intake of breath.

Did he know the kind of effect his eyes had on Jude? Or the way he kept biting his lower lip? If he was as self-aware as he claimed, then he wasn’t oblivious to any of it, was he?

Or was all of it in Jude's head?

[autistic-katara]

there r fics that make u insane (so amazingly good it’s removed ur sanity) and then there’s fics that make u insane (you need to fistfight the author for how they did a specific thing that caused u to rant for hours)

[bears-ao3-blog]

(TF2 x TLOU) Dead Mann Walking - Prologue: When All Hell Broke Loose

(Edit: Small Clarification - You do NOT need to know anything about The Last of Us to read this fic!! I made sure to write this in a way that did not make that a requirement. Ok love you bye)

Chapter 1

CW: Implied Violence, Explicit Violence, Injury, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Mick didn't remember anything about Australia. No surprise, he wasn't even a year old when they moved to Massachusetts. The only pieces of his country of origin that he really carried with him were his shoddy accent - compromised by its mix with a Southern drawl - and borderline stereotypical phrases, both of which he picked up from his parents, of course. 

He was young – barely pushing on two years old – when  it  happened; when monsters emerged from the confines of their own homes, ripping the ones they love to shreds with snarls and howls and sobs. He didn't even remember the day of the outbreak, but he knew plenty. His parents were gentle souls, but they were also honest ones. So, when he asked, they told; even when the answers were far from pretty. They would often combat the grim knowledge they’d have to bestow on their only son with times before the infection. Tales of potlucks and kids playing in the street. Tales of stores filled to the brim with anything you could ever need one hundred times over. Tales of birthdays. Of his own birth. His short childhood before everything happened. 

He often wondered what his room looked like at the time. What color the walls were. What sort of childish paraphernalia littered it. He wondered what his favorite toy was. He wondered what it was like to live without that constant fear of death and destruction of not only yourself but the people you care about. Sometimes it provided solace but, more often than not, it simply made him sad.  

He wondered what life was like for Dell; before his grandpa was infected and he had to blast the old man's brain to bits with his own shotgun. Before he joined their family. He wondered if he was happy before the outbreak. For Mick, it's all he's ever known. His parents used to joke about how there's no reason to feel homesick anymore because things then weren't too different from the deep Outback. The isolation. The danger. The need to fend for yourself because there's no help around for miles. They used to say it was almost nice; "Like we're right back at home!"   

Mick knew it was all bullshit. They never would have immigrated to America in the first place if they wanted to live in a place like that. His parents’ experience proved fruitful, however, and it was their teachings that served as the only reason Mick and Dell had been able to survive so long on their own. Mick felt guilty that Dell wound up being stuck taking care of him. The man had barely been on the cusp of being a legal adult when everything happened. When his parents… 

He doesn't like to think about it, despite the watch on his wrist being a constant reminder. Just another piece of them to carry. It had been his dad's since before the outbreak. Cheap but effective. It even had a small hinge that revealed a compass underneath the timepiece. The images of those trembling, weathered hands pressing the cool metal into his own; that hoarse voice of his father’s telling him "Keep it. Reckon I'm not gonna be around ta use it meself."; his mother wrapping him up in a hug with trailing tears and quiet sobs; Dell adding another two to his list of “guardians I’ve had to shoot dead”: it's something he won't ever be able rid his mind of. Watching your parents die right in front of you is something no seven-year-old should ever have to go through, but that’s just life. The timepiece didn’t even work anymore, but Mick still got plenty of use out of the compass with the hours him and Dell spent scanning maps, looking for their next town and praying it hadn’t been stripped to nothing; praying they got to survive another week. 

And then, a whopping 8 years later, they finally ran out of luck. It had been a tough winter. The snow had been insistent, blanketing and pillowing every square inch of land their tired eyes could see. The chill was extra bitter, nipping at their skin, their flesh, their blood ; their resolve. The two very quickly began to feel the effects of improper sleep and nutrition once the shivers began to wrack their frames, desperate to find any sort of reprieve. They had miraculously stumbled across a town so small it may as well have been a village, and further on, an abandoned taxidermy shop. Mick remembered the beady little eyes of every creature in that old building, strewn about. Some half-hanging off the wall, some littering the floor; the pungent scent of chemicals that still lingered in the air despite none of them being put to use for over a decade, if not longer. He had asked Dell if they could find somewhere else to sleep for the night, but it was so, so cold, and the shop was the most insulated, even if that didn’t say much. So, they pulled out their thick blankets and plopped right onto the ground, and in mere minutes the two were out, the promise of safety from the elements and the things that went bump at night finally letting their bodies surrender to slumber. 

A slow, drawn out, crooning “Oh Mickyyy~. Time to wake uuupp~” had roused Mick from his deep sleep, and he had awoken to two lifeless, black orbs right in his face, surrounded by the old, grimy fur of a dead raccoon. It had scared him so badly he screamed, and in his panic, he had kicked the possessor of the dingy taxidermy, Dell, right in the leg with such force it had sent his kneecap right out of place with a sickening pop. Dell’s snickers were swiftly replaced by his own scream as he collapsed to the floor, holding his leg and breathing through his teeth. Mick’s blood ran cold and before he even had a chance to fully wake up he was scrambling over, his hands cupping the air around the other’s knee, horrified at what he had just done. Dell had just kept saying “its alright, Stretch. It’s alright. I’ll be ok, I’ll be alright. It’s alright-“ in that soft, comforting voice and it just made Mick angrier at himself. And then Mick heard it. That drawling croak that had been a source of white-hot dread time and time again: the clicking of a clicker. Dell and Mick had both looked straight at each other with wide eyes, and the two of them fell dead quiet in a rigid tensity. But it was too late, the damage had been done. The croak turned into a screech, and Mick realized in terror that it wasn’t just one. It was multiple infected. Mick looked over at the small window of the door and he watched as three figures sprinted towards them, janky and uncoordinated. Air was sucked into his lungs in a jarring motion as fear iced his bones over, freezing him in place. They were already so close- 

Dell had shot up, using the wall behind him as leverage, and grabbed Mick, tugging him close to harshly whisper as he began dragging the younger across the room. He kept nearly tripping on the taxidermized animals beneath his feet with his lame leg in his urgency. 

“We need to get the fuck outta here, now! Cmon, let’s g-“ 

The already weak door proved to be a meager safeguard as it easily broke off its hinges as the weight of 3 bodies slammed against it, the infected crashing onto the floor with cries and groans on top of the sad piece of wood. Mick barely had time to look around before a vertigo overtook him and he was being thrown into the back room across the hallway, his shoulder painfully nicking the doorway. Mick cried out quietly as his heavy knapsack thudded into his chest, his arms barely making it in time to catch it. He looked up to see Dell already turning to face his three opponents and wielding his gun and machete with a grim but determined look on his face. Mick felt his heart drop and bile rise as Dell turned back around and shouted. 

“Go! Run until ya can’t run anymore, ya hear me? Run! ” 

Mick would never forgive himself for his cowardice. He listened. He ran. He ran until he couldn’t anymore. And when he couldn’t, he walked. And when he couldn’t, he dragged himself until he saw the geometric outlines of man-made buildings once more. He collapsed as soon as he saw the figures of watchmen looking over at him.

He had stumbled across the Boston Fortress.  

He was finally safe for the first time in his life. 

And it had cost him everyone. 

[leo-woods]

hey how would you feel if I did ficlets instead of gifs for the next couple of 30dtsc prompts

[sadpanda]

ao3 I miss you come home