#but make it angsty

[waywardwizzard]

"Don't make me say it again," Mal said, flexing his hand.

Blood slowly trickled out of Simon's split lip, River's fingers twisted into her brother's sweater.

"Doesn't make sense," she muttered, staring at the Captain with wide eyes, "Doesn't - "

"What part of 'get off my ship' doesn't make sense?" Mal snapped.

"Don't talk to her like that!"

"Well then get off my gorram ship!" the Captain bellowed, his voice echoing through the cargo bay.

It went quiet, the crickets' chirping outside loud in the silence left behind.

"You're serious," Simon whispered in disbelief.

Mal didn't answer, staring at the siblings with unreadable eyes.

"It doesn't make sense," River whimpered, cowering behind Simon. A tear made its way down her cheek, dripping onto the floor just as the first raindrop fell outside. "No..."

Turning his back on them, the captain of Serenity made his way to the stairs, only looking back at them when he was halfway up.

"We leave in less than an hour. Make sure you're off before then, dong ma?"

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Author's note-

I wasn't feeling too great today so I decided I needed some Serenity family angst and it spiraled into this.

There's also a reason why Mal's acting like a complete hundan. I don't know why yet but if I find the reason I'll let y'all know😂

@juneofdoom

[thesunwillart]

@velcintaweek​ day 3 - tropes

“Loved I Not Honor More” - when the hero allows themselves to fall in love, but the romance must take a backseat to duty

[superhighschoollevel-aesthetics]

Kokichi aesthetic… this one is hard bc there are so many options. Consider this pt.1 of many

[fairiesthrum]

reader who can’t stand satoru but then he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat. you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.

[aerequets]

this post was the catalyst for this comic, and i was also thinking of a desi song lyric (tere dil ke sheher mein ghar mera ho gaya / in the city of your heart, my home is made) and just... hmmm.... leaving your mark.... making a house into a home..... when the marks a child inevitably leaves behind (messes, scribbles, and in this case stickers) eventually fade away as they grow older and you're left with the memories stored in what hasn't been erased....

im not verbalizing it very well but catch my drift?

[forgotmysword]

Doomed from the beginning

Unknown / Marguerite Duras / Blanca Varela / Ramona Ausubel / Anne Carson / Heather Havrilesky / Michael Cunningham / Lisel Mueller / Richard Siken x Dungeon Meshi by Ryoko Kui

[eatingmarkerz]

[raylangivins]

i am Locked In.

[suretkerim]

i had this thought for a while about how convenient it is that of all the fenton inventions it is the shields that do not work on danny :)

[noodles-and-tea]

twins in time continuation of that blue doodle comic thingy, but fidd is forced to take care of stan when Ford gets into the portal stuff, leaving him behind.

I reckon he teaches him math…

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Something something the way that Crowley introduced himself to Aziraphale the first time they met in the garden and reacted as if they had never met before. Something about him later behaving as if he did actually have those memories of their time in Heaven together and trying to pass it off as being someone different now. Something about Heaven's way of punishing angels that go against the plan by erasing their memories. Something about Crowley seeing Gabriel without his memory and saying "ask him properly." Something about "remember it now" "it hurts, to remember. my head isn't built for that" "I know. Do it anyway"

Something about "I know. Looking at where the furniture isn't"

Something about I know

[voidheartkisses]

they share a braincell

[superhighschoollevel-aesthetics]

Dark Kokichi aesthetic

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[galaghiel]

Both Jack and Maddie stared at him, speechless. Silence blanketed the lab, everything but Danny’s strangled crying, his hand pressed over the muzzle as if to hide it. No- to hold it still, to still the dozen wicked barbs that were digging into his tongue, probably ripping it with each sob.

a little sketch of @liketolaugh-writes amazing one-shot fanfic that you can read here