#demand good writing
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Hey...... uh... like I know we want rise back, but like. Maybe not right now... becuase like, there's. You know. The Writer Strike Going On. If they start making the show again, right now, it's going to be trash
@margoteve
I see you guys…and yeah…that is tough. I am supporting the WGA strike as much as I can…and looking for places to donate what little I have (college is expensive, heh!).
We can��t stop now. We need to keep interest up, prove that people LOVE Rise of the TMNT, otherwise Nickelodeon will not hesitate to pull the plug and shut the door. Nickelodeon will most likely wait until AFTER Mutant Mayhem to make any big decisions about Rise.
And Nickelodeon is looking for ANY reason to give up on Rise. If we stop supporting it, they won’t think it’s because we’re supporting WGA. If fact, none of the big companies, that have shows to sell, will think that way. They will see viewership and interest in Rise go down. They will listen to the numbers and think of it as no more then a phase that does not need to be invested in. When Rise was airing, bad faith reviews were what Nickelodeon listened to, not the small amount of fans saying it’s good, not the fact that covid was happening, not the fact that they did not put it on TV enough, not the fact that they then moved it to another channel that not a lot of people have or watch.
They’re not going to start working on Rise right away, especially since they’re pushing for a new project. BUT, that does NOT mean we should give up. And this is super important. Nickelodeon will be looking to see if interest in Rise persists AFTER The Mutant Mayhem movie, and if people don’t keep coming into the fan base and keeping it alive until then, then it has NO chance. If Both Rise and Mutant Mayhem don’t persist together, then Nickelodeon will prioritize one over the other. They will dismiss Rise as over because another series came up and took its place.
Even if Rise got renewed now…it would still be a bit before we see anything of it. It takes time to create a show. And I hope that, by the time Rise IS saved, WGA would succeed. I SO want WGA to get the respect it deserves. As someone that always wanted to be a writer/creator, I want more then anything for WGA to succeed, because Hollywood needs writers to make its magic work.
All we can do is KEEP RISE GOING STRONG, show that there is interest, that there is demand. And if it DOES get renewed…then it’s up to US to make our demands known. The same way people screamed at paramount until they changed Sonic the Hedgehog’s design, fans need to scream at Nickelodeon to make Rise something of quality. Tell them we want Andy Suriano, Ant Ward, JJ Conway, and as much of the OG cast and crew back, as possible. TELL them we WANT them to support WGA.
Look, right now, I want Rise to come back more then anything, and I fully believe it can return the way we want it to. It takes an ocean of voices to flood that tower of greed that we call corporations. All we can do is keep making that wave bigger. And hopefully, by then, WGA would have succeeded in their take over. So support both!
SUPPORT WGA! SUPPORT RISE! SUPPORT ARTISTS! SUPPORT WRITERS! Don’t stop fighting for the shows you love! (If Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance came back, I would flip my LID!) Get out there on social media and TELL people that you won’t support ANY show unless it’s good and the writers are respected.
#rottmnt#save rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt#unpause rottmnt#save rise of the tmnt#rottmnt leo#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt raph#Nickelodeon#writers guild strike#writers guild of america#demand good writing#corporations
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#the gif quality is not good bc KQ won't let me have their videos#park seonghwa#seonghwa#ateez#seonghwa gif#ateez gifs#maxsixgif#ateez edit#someone write to KQ for me#and demand they let me have their material again
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Something something the way Jod is the Mentor who’s to teach them about the wider galaxy, and in the classic coming of age tale you take children from a sheltered home and teach them that the wider world is a dangerous scary place. Jod DOES fill that role to a t. He tells them forget about home cause you can’t get back. Trust your gut. This is how you survive because the world is a cutthroat place and you have to be quick or you will always be hungry. People are just waiting around to stab you in the back.
And Jod is a LIAR.
#that’s not all the galaxy is!! that’s a way to survive but it’s not The way to survive!!!#he’s a half truth made a whole truth!#he’s a lie he believes!!#what’s the truth? they demand#and he says the truth is I’m just like you. lost. alone. this is what I know#and they get to say based on everything they learned#from Hana to the Cthulhu octopus to the lady in the pirate hang out to Khym#that no. that’s a LIE. that’s not actually how the galaxy is.#it is scary it is dangerous but even in the worst places there were good people who helped us#that lie is one both Jod AND their parents believed tbh!#that’s the heroes journey elixir they bring back#what Jod says is a lie. someone will help us. if we just ask#we can’t hide behind a barrier! we have to be brave enough to get to see the good out there too#not just fear the bad#and isn’t that KB’s whole arc too? she can’t show herself or things will be Bad people will abandon her#and instead everyone helps her! if she’s only brave enough to ask#writing on this show. Off the charts#skeleton crew#skeleton crew spoilers
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"I see you, and I love you" + hurt/comfort ; requested by @oops-i-dropped-the-galaxy!
Danny can handle being a halfa. He’s had years to get used to it, switching between dead and alive, living boy and ghost, always living in flux. He’s settled into his identity as one of the few halfas in existence, navigating the living world and the Infinite Realms with ease after years of practice.
What he can’t handle is becoming an Ancient.
Apparently, while most Ancients are born into the role, ruling over their domain, some can grow into it. It’s rare, practically unheard of, but not impossible.
Danny is growing into the Ancient of Stars, changed from the inside out by his love of space.
He would be happy if it didn’t hurt so much.
Danny can’t sleep at night anymore. When the stars are out, he can hear them singing, each windchime voice echoing through his ears. Though he can’t see them from beneath Gotham’s cloud cover, he can feel them shining brightly far above him.
He lays in bed with Duke, curled up in his side, trying to muffle his whimpers as his bones creak and hollow, his soul growing too large for his body to handle. He is space contained in a human body. It wants to be free, to stretch from its suffocating confines and fill every dark space with cold light. His skin feels too tight and his teeth ache.
All Danny can do is clench his jaw, wrap his arms around his stomach as tightly as he can, and try to weather through the pain of changing.
The agony of it comes in waves. He doesn’t know how long it takes until it recedes enough for him to feel like he can breathe again, trying to suck air in as his lungs are crushed by his ribcage. Slowly, Danny pushes himself up, taking care not to wake Duke, and stumbles out of bed. His throat is dry and feels as if its been scraped raw by sandpaper, and all he wants is water.
He gets halfway down the hall when the next wave hits.
Danny collapses, gasping for breath, and can only watch through tear-filled eyes as his fingers go dark, the same black as deep space. His body shifts, bones cracking and muscles stretching like taffy, and suddenly he’s big larger than life a galaxy a black hole there is darkness everywhere it is alive it is full of stars the stars are singing the stars are singing the stars are si
“Danny? Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?”
That’s Duke’s voice. He’d recognize it anywhere, even from miles away, even when he’s sure he doesn’t have ears anymore. It takes all his effort to pull himself back to Earth, back into their apartment, blinking up at Duke as the stars in his eyes fade away.
Duke kneels before him, concern clear on his face, gentle hands reaching out to hold Danny steady. The feel of his warmth grounds him, keeps him more securely in his body. The pull of space is still there, tugging at him, trying to pull him out of humanity and into the form of an Ancient, but Danny can resist it so long as Duke keeps him tethered to the ground.
“It hurts,” he croaks, shivering.
“Shh, I know, baby. How can I help? What do you need?”
Danny leans forward, burying his face in Duke’s chest as tears slip out of his eyes. “It hurts,” he says again, voice shaking. “I keep changing and growing and my entire body is being torn apart and—” he gasps, cutting himself off. “I keep disappearing. I don’t want to disappear. I want to stay here but it takes me away and then I’m too big and no one can see me and I’m alone—”
“You’re not alone, Danny,” Duke says, holding him tightly as if his arms will be enough to keep Danny from breaking out of his own body, ridding himself of a mortal vessel, his only remaining tie to this world. “I see you, and I love you. Even if you have to change and go far away to be happy, I’ll find a way to follow you there, okay? I’m with you for as long as you want me.”
“I don’t want to hurt so much,” Danny whimpers, black fingers speckled with stardust clawing at Duke’s arms.
“Just breathe through it, sweetheart, you can do it. Let it pass through you. I got you, okay? Just let the pain pass and you’ll be fine.”
He wants to snap at Duke that it’s not fine, that the pain will be forever, it’ll linger in every one of his joints, that he can’t just stop fighting it because it’ll hurt even worse then. But his jaws are aching, his teeth sharpening, and there’s a black hole in his throat that he refuses to let loose. He lets out another pained whine, shivering, and in his chest a star is formed, burning bright and angry.
“Breathe, Danny, breathe,” Duke soothes, rubbing a hand up and down Danny’s back.
It’s habit to relax into his touch. They’ve spent so many nights working through night terrors and injuries, comforting each other through gentle touches. The pain eases a bit, and Danny sighs, frost on his breath.
“There we go, sweetheart, that’s it. You’re doing just fine.”
Another tear slips down his face, but the ache in his entire body as his growing ghost form tries to escape begins to fade.
He’s spent so many nights in pain, waiting for the sun to rise to muffle the singing of the stars. If he can get any relief, he’ll take it, even if it means losing his human form.
Danny stops fighting. His resistance to this change falls away. There’s a moment where the pain disappears entirely, the world going still, but before he can let out a relieved sigh, the change hits him like an asteroid, sudden and instant and inevitable.
A cry is ripped from his throat, but it doesn’t sound like him. It echoes, deep and inhuman, and suddenly Danny is every dark space surrounding the stars, the arms of every galaxy, suns burning bright and dying, supernova, cold and ice and the slow drifting of planets in orbit. His body grows, expands, no longer a ghost but an Ancient, body curling into itself to stay within the walls of the too small apartment, large hands cupped around Duke to keep him safe.
He can feel the cold of space. Orbits dance in his mind. Meteorites and asteroids drift without pattern across his chest. Danny can see everything with too many eyes, and he can cup planets in his palms, so much larger than possibility. His chest opens and expands and his body can curl around Earth and keep it safe.
He feels settled in this new body, senses stretched in every direction and the universe is so much lovelier than he could have ever experienced it in a halfa’s body.
Danny, Ancient of the Stars, hums and the universe shivers, singing back to him.
The pain is gone completely. He wonders why he resisted so hard; this is what he’s meant to be. He’s never felt so right before.
“Danny?”
Duke’s voice is small, but only because he is small when compared to Danny in his Ancient form.
Duke, he tries to say but his vocal chords have changed. Instead of words, a deep hum erupts from his throat, similar to the purr of a particularly large cat.
“Hey, sweetheart. Feeling better?”
Danny nods, pulling himself back together to feel his body more keenly, no longer stretched across the universe, cradling every star in his reach. Duke reaches a hand up and Danny reaches back, folding himself back into his body. His human eyes return and he realizes the apartment is completely covered in darkness with stars sparkling all around them. It recedes as he fits himself back into his body, the black on his fingers fading away until his hand is indistinguishable from a normal human’s.
He takes hold of Duke’s hand and tries to stand. His legs are weak and unsteady and he falls onto Duke, who catches him with ease and sweeps him up into a princess carry.
“There you are, honey,” Duke says, voice warm and relieved. “You alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I feel a lot better.”
“Good. Do you need anything? Hot chocolate, heating pad, sleep?”
Danny thinks for a moment, then says, “Hot chocolate.”
“You got it. Let me just set you on the couch and I’ll have it out in a minute.”
He carefully sets Danny onto the couch, then tucks the blanket they keep folded over the back around him. Once he’s satisfied Danny is comfortable, Duke heads to the kitchen, flicking on the light as he does.
Danny sinks into the couch cushions, carefully moving all his fingers and toes to make sure they’re fine. He’s a little sore, as if all his bones where put through the ringer, but it doesn’t feel any different from when he has a particularly rough training day.
What’s more important that his physical body is the fact that he can feel his core, settled deep in his chest. It’s no longer the cold of ice, but it burns coldness, a white star embodying his soul, a changed core to reflect his transformation into an Ancient.
A baby Ancient, technically. He still has some growing to do, but the rest should be easier and, hopefully, less painful.
He closes his eyes and begins to drift off when he hears Duke return. It takes some effort to open his eyes, and his smiles softly and sleepily when he sees Duke set down two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table.
“Love you,” he mumbles, freeing a hand from the blanket to try to pull Duke down to join him.
Duke goes to him easily, sitting next to him and pulling Danny in to cuddle against him. It’s been so long since he last felt so comfortable at night, not writhing in pain and biting through his lip to keep quiet, that he can’t help but sink into it. A purr starts up in his chest, and Duke startles.
“Sweetheart, are you purring?”
Danny flushes and tries to hide his face. The purr doesn’t stop. He’s always been able to purr after becoming a halfa, though purr is just an easier way to describe it. It’s less of his vocal chords vibrating and more of his core rumbling in contentment. Usually, it’s unnoticeable, barely able to be felt let alone heard. Apparently, becoming an Ancient and therefore a much stronger ghost means his purrs are also stronger and louder.
“You’re so cute,” Duke says, pressing a kiss against Danny’s forehead. “Drink your hot chocolate, and then we can go back to sleep.”
He makes grabby hands at his mug, and Duke laughs and picks it up for him.
“Love you,” Danny repeats, voice less muffled.
“Love you, too,” Duke says. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I’m glad you were there to help me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s a good thing you’ll never have to find out. I’ve got you, sweetheart, always.”
Believing him is the easiest thing Danny has ever done. If Duke says he’ll be there for, then he will.
Always, always, always.
. . .
[send me ghostlights prompts!]
#ghostlights#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp fic#prompt fill#my writing#you ever think about how painful transformation must be? especially for eldritch danny turning into something human into something not?#yeah :) hurt and comfort!!#duke best boyfriend of the year tbh we all need a man like him in our lives#imagine the next time duke is in danger and danny comes to help and this human guy suddenly GROWS and his body unfolds and a mass of stars#and space comes out demanding in a voice that makes ears bleed that they leave signal alone or face the consequences#anyways after that gotham knows that the signal is loved by some monster/god so they try not to piss him off too much#this is all good and fine until goons and criminals make danny shrines and leave gifts and snacks on it so he'll show them mercy#and duke has to scold danny about not eating suspicious shrine snacks#thanks for the prompt!!
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[to the tune of where is the justice's first lines] this world is rotting from the surface to the core / am i the only one whose life feels like a chore / this whole society needs someone for repairs every day's a little worse and i don't think anyone cares
#someone has to rewrite witj to actually be a light song it makes me so actively mad#it's such a GOOD SONG#but it's for MIKAMI#(well the classmates would be disagreeing with mikami but w/e)#the japanese version of hurricane fixes hurricane but the japanese version of witj does not fix witj. alas. Alas.#anyway 1) i also kind of get mad about 腐ってる being translated to rotten instead of rotting so im fixing it#2) i stole the first rhyme from primadonna#3) this is staged as an internal monologue. hes either in the classroom or watching the news idk#4) ideally these lyrics make you want to punch him#anyway this was a great usage of the last first-half hour of 2024#maybe writing yuri will make me feel better#okay adding more tags because apparently the brain is demanding tumblr posting:#in my head this is his i want song#the interaction with his teacher is just the teacher telling him to pay attention in class because hes the star student#the interaction with the students is all them being like wow light youre so smart hey light can you teach me homework#um light do you want to go to a cafe with me sometime maybe#and light is like :) thanks! sure! sorry im kinda busy (respectively)#and then continues singing I HATE MY LIFE AND WISH THERE WAS LITERALLY ANYTHING OF VALUE IN IT#while people circle him and he gets lifted upward slightly (not too much) on a pedestal in the center of the stage#oh and the song is titled rot
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good morning and happy tuesday friendz (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ! these little dudes and i are here to cheer you on to have the bestest day everrr ! ! 🩷💫
#don’t mind the squished plushies behind obi#they love to hop all over them#the cuties#they met yesterday and played for awhile :3 !#then at like 2am they were demanding to play with each other so i let them run around for an hour LOL#so i am a little sleepy but v happy that they’re getting along#still no update on the name so i call him baby for now#it’s been a lil stressful but !! things are lookin good :’)#mwehehe very exciting :’)#i feel like i haven’t been very active lately and i miss being silly here :< !#i’ll try to bloop some writing in the queue if it all comes together#i’m really missing zoro lately sooooo .#hehe#i hope everyone is doing well & july is off to a good start !#sending everyone lots of love !!!#₊˚⊹ ᰔ xoxo aims#🗣️ the daily yap .
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saw someone say 'wish he'd tried a little harder' under harry's post.................what if i started shooting people in the head
#harry styles#liam payne#idk why this is the thing that's getting me here. maybe bc i have a lot of respect for harry styles and the way he presents himself#and his stance on feminism and womanhood and equality. he is a stand up guy. he doesn't owe anyone his grief#or his feelings or his thoughts on liam as a person. the liam he knew for the worst years of his life#the liam who was the rock of 1d who held them all up and kept them steady#THAT is who he is mourning. and whatever person liam became and whatever shape their relationship took in recent times#there will always be that bedrock of experience between them that does not go away.#how dare you demand more from this man? he's grieving an enormous loss - one that you as a fan cannot comprehend#one direction#why compare their posts? what good will it do?#yes it's entirely possible he did not write that post. because he has LOST SOMEONE#grow the fuck up and stop demanding a public prostation from people you have no claim on
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Honestly it annoys me that pride, ambition, and generally having a big ego are always villainous/evil-coded personality traits because personally I think if you genuinely are a prodigy at what you do you are 100% within your rights, perhaps even deserving, of flaunting your skills and being proud of the fact you can do something that only a small fraction of other people can do. Is it even ego at that point if you genuinely are as good at your field/skill as you say you are? Are people not aware that becoming a prodigy at something is something that takes lifelong sacrifice and practice sometimes to the point of giving up on having a normal life, relationships, etc even potentially destroying your own health???? God I fucking hate how pride in your own skills and ambition are so villain coded all the time. As if it's evil to want to be good at something and be recognized for what you rightfully earned
#squiggposting#this is part of why i like pharma obviously lol but it's happened to me w#other blorbos ive had in the past#bc like full offense if you're capable of doing something like partially inventing the cures to 5 different terminal diseases#in only a few months/a year of research. or if you can do an organ donation and replacement surgery#with yourself as one of the donors. you literally ARE the best doctor who has ever lived#and you DESERVE to flaunt it bc. what fucking achievement is higher than that???#some feats demand recognition in my opinion. maybe it's just bc I've always been competitive#and from a young age enjoyed a (relative) degree of fame for being really good at certain things#ive always enjoyed being an object of awe bc bitch i spent my whole life working to be this good#do i hold it over ppl or treat them badly for not being as good as me? i admit i used to but i grew out of it#but the ego? certainly not. i think if you're good at something you should own it#i think if you're a prodigy and put your skills into doing good work youve earned your fame and recognition#this expectation of false humility we have is sooooo annoying#ohhhh boo hoo pharma is a little bit of an annoying asshole about being a better doctor than ratchet#the cures he helped design will save literal thousands of lives from now until the rest of time#but somehow the way he FEELS about it is more important than the CONCRETE POSITIVE GAIN he put into the universe?#and also in general i hate it when ppl assume that pride/ego and being kind towards others are mutually exclusive#in general i feel like i could write an essay about how self vs others is treated as a dichotomy#where it's assumed that in order to uplift others you have to self efface and diminish yourself#or if you flaunt yourself it automatically means you're putting down others. it's not true.#video essay topic for later lol
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People don’t like it when you pressure them back. Someone tells me to update a fic without context, feedback, kudos, or anything else. I simply ask them, “Why?” They block me. That’s fine—curate your experience how you see fit. However, you can’t get upset when I match your energy.
#tw: rant#sorry y’all#but the amount of comments i’ve received on ao3 like this is insane#update? part 2? when’s the next part?#i know to some that’s a compliment#to me it’s entitled and isn’t conducive to my headspace at all#like you can’t demand more if you don’t even express gratitude for what’s given#it’s like someone giving you a plate of food and you eat it without a word but when your plate’s clear you ask for more#and the person serving you is like was it good?#and you don’t say shit just keep demanding more food#i’m grateful for like the hey this was good please if your up for it write more or any variation of that comments i receive#or hell even tell me it was bad and why and that i should fix it in another chapter#don’t even get that much
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jump scared by the 4th Doctor saying "well" with an uncanny intonation to how 10 says it, except I thought that was just a David Tennant-ism considering he does it in everything eventually, like, that CAN'T have started with him copying this cadence and absorbing it into his being? Right?
#I'm a season in on Baker and I understand now#his entire presence is in his voice which is of course impossible to see in random pictures and such#INCREDIBLY deep and rich voice#and while his performance is to me otherwise probably upper-middle-tier so far#the writing has taken a huge jump in quality even while staying in the serial format which sets some pretty dreadful pacing limitations#that have so far been the bane of all 12 seasons I've watched#what with demanding a silly fake cliffhanger 3-5 times a story and thus getting everyone kidnapped and imperilled way beyond common sense#the writing is either good enough to compensate#or they're going less out of their way to move everyone around like chess pieces to be in peril on the dot#and after binging this much of it even one smooth episode transition per serial is a relief#and then of course Baker is delivering all the lines with that sonorous voice and smoothing it all over further#I can see why people would advise starting with Baker simply because the episodes feel more digestible and easy to chew#of course having started at the start#the improvement scale I'm working on is rather warped :P#several B&W era Who I was fully showing up For Science with an anthropology hat on to study 1960s britain#because it was all such a hurdle#this is just like. Acceptable if adorably janky TV by now :P#doctor who
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What to write weekend (9-11 August)
Reply, DM or Ask (anon is on) with up to three letters/numbers and I promise to try and write at least 250 words for each one*.
Numbers:
Sagas of Solitude - 9/21
Season to Taste - 2/?
Letters:
A) Upon which our souls touch - 3/? B) I'd know you anywhere - 4/5? C) To wake, perchance to dream - 3/? H) From the top - 2/? I) Life is too short to waste time matching socks... - 3/? K) Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide - 5/?
Trying to get some of these completed this weekend so have trimmed out the one-shots or ones I haven't started posting at all. Word count spreadsheet.
*Sometimes I run out of time, but if in future weekends I am flailing about what I should write, I look back and what ones I didn't manage to get to I then work on those.
#writing and wrangling woes#I can write 9k in a weekend on average#don't hold back or feel like you're 'demanding' anything - I am asking for what people want me to work on#I cannot promise updates but I can promise words...#whether the words are any good or not comes down to the editing but we'll get there!
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Fresh's Theme: YOO I'LL TELL U WUT I WANT SO TELL ME WH Swap: FML
art source comes from here, fic made by @gaylordscooter
[IMAGE ID: A digital drawing of Swap Sans, visibly tense and hiding behind a broken wall. The wall is an almost-grey blue, the background is a slightly bluer and darker grey, Blue's background color is blue, and Swap's outlines are a paler version of his background. Behind the wall are rainbow all-capitilized words that switch color each line break. The words read "YOO I'LL TELL U WUT I WANT SO TELL ME WH", the words a reference to the beginning lyrics in Wannabe by Spice Girls. The rainbow words are cut off by the bottom of the broken wall. Swap's thought bubble background is his outline colour, while his speech bubble font color is colored in his background color. His thought bubble just reads "FML" in all caps. END ID]
#utmv#swap sans#fresh sans#i hate you btw i've been unable to listen to anything but wannabe for days since reading that fic#i couldn't get this idea out of my brain#it gnawed at me like a creature#i couldn't rest until i drew this#the chorus of wannabe is still stuck in my head#i switched my song to wannabe while writing these tags#this song lives rest free in my head please help#all of your fics live in my head but this song is haunting me#why is your characterization of Fresh so good he's also living in my head please make him pay rent#also i want to eat ALL of your fics and your art and all your character concepts and designs#your art is so good#your headcanons are so good i've stolen like at least 3#and your 'nightmare is young' concept has also eaten like half of my brain by now so also i demand financial compensation#i can't stop thinking about the things you create oh my fucking god
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Angels in America
It's amazing how fast an evening at your favorite club can be ruined by someone keeling over and frothing at the mouth. The band never quite gets back into the swing of things afterwards.
"Angel," sighed one of the men, or nearest approximants, at the table next to mine, "why is it that I can never go anywhere with you without stumbling across a body?"
"Oh, come now," said his partner, a soft, fluffy confection in caramel and cream, rising hastily to make his way toward the source of the commotion. The first gentleman, dark, lanky, and excruciatingly chic, got up to follow him. "It's hardly every time."
I stayed where I was for now, casting my gaze around the room as I went over my memory of the past twenty or thirty minutes. Too many people passing close enough to slip something into the victim's drink, too many others to watch at the same time, too many more opportunities to poison him outside my field of view. I was a detective, not God.
"Stumbling upon, once. Literally. Do you know what it's like to have to clean up after that sort of thing? It takes a personal toll."
"Hush, Crowley," chided "Angel". "People can hear you, and you know how queer they get about these things. Ooh, yes, that's strychnine, all right," he added cheerfully, pulling a small vial from his vest pocket and tipping it into his handkerchief. "Nasty stuff."
I got up. As I approached, I caught the faint, unmistakable chemical sweetness of ether fumes and gave them a wide berth, choosing instead to inspect the victim's plate and glass before turning to scan the room from this perspective.
"Now, just what might you be doing?" drawled Crowley.
I looked him over, too, while I was at it. In Crowley's case, this involved a lot of looking and not much over; he was easily more than six feet tall, even while slouching rakishly. The snake tattoo on his right temple suggested certain things about him. The dark glasses that he hadn't removed since he'd entered just suggested questions, since I highly doubted he was blind. "I'm a detective," I said, leaving the obviously at the end of that sentence to implication. "What are you doing?"
This response seemed to delight him. "So are we," Crowley answered, and grinned. "But if you want to get specific about it, I'm keeping you distracted while my friend saves this man's life. Let's see your license, then."
As I took it out, keeping at least one eye on him and his partner, Angel called out to the rubbernecking crowd around us, "I need someone here to run and call the nearest hospital, and a couple of strong men to help get this poor fellow someplace dark and quiet to rest. Best use one of the tablecloths for a stretcher," he added to the first volunteer who stepped forward.
Crowley leaned in closer to study my license. "Drake Silas Donovan," he read off. "'Silas', really?"
"What about it?"
"I've just always wondered what kind of parent would name their kid Silas."
"The kind who had a grandfather named Silas," I replied coolly, snagging my license back. "Your turn."
He obliged. Anthony J. Crowley, it read, licensed in London since 1905, the year before mine. I wondered how long he'd really been at this; he looked too young for his apparent age, but then, I looked too old for mine. "A. J. Crowley," I read his signature aloud. "Get asked if you're any relation every time, or just most?"
There's a certain motion a person's head makes when they roll their eyes. Crowley's was making it. "The man's an embarrassment to the side," he griped. "I made my name legitimately."
"And your friend?" It wasn't as if I couldn't put two and two together. There's a certain type of person who's got both a nose for trouble and the brains to prepare for it; if it walks, talks, and thinks like a dick, it probably is one. It was just that I wasn't in the habit of trusting people, and I'd be a real schmuck to neglect basic due diligence on the guy purportedly surrounded by bodies.
Detectives are no better or worse than any other person. They just think it's usually more interesting to solve crimes than commit them.
"Oh, he's as legitimate as it gets." Crowley turned to his companion, who was getting to his feet, brushing his clothes off fussily. Beside him, the two volunteers hoisted the unconscious victim onto a tablecloth spread across the floor, momentarily dislodging the ether-soaked cloth before Angel caught it and laid it carefully back in place over the victim's nose and mouth. "Aren't you, Aziraphale?"
Angel — "Aziraphale"? — looked up, startled. "Pardon?"
"Mr. Donovan here wants to see your detective's license," Crowley explained, enunciating his words with malice aforethought.
"Oh! Yes. Of course I always have that with me. Now just where did I..." He started patting down his pockets, stopped suddenly, and took a lovely calfskin card holder out of his coat. "Ah. Here it is."
Beaming, he passed it to Crowley, who passed it to me with the comment, "You'll find everything in order, I'm sure."
I glanced down at the card, then back up at Angel. "Am I supposed to call you A. Z. Fell or Aziraphale?" I asked, pronouncing the Z correctly as zed.
"A. Z. Fell is how 'Aziraphale' is pronounced in the King's English," said Crowley blandly, affecting a cut-glass Oxford accent on the last phrase. His partner seemed pleased by this comment, rather than annoyed.
"I'm afraid my progenitor bestowed me with a rather unwieldy given name," Fell admitted, raising fascinating questions about just how many syllables the British peerage could fit on a birth certificate when they really tried. "Aziraphale just sounds so much more euphonious, don't you think?" Crowley was right; I couldn't tell whether Fell had meant to say A. Z. Fell or the de-accented gloss. He'd lengthened the overenunciated quasi-syllable between zed and Fell to a full vowel, but some people said zetta.
"I wouldn't know," I replied, handing the license back to Crowley, who was nearest. When Fell didn't take my bait, I added, "Lucky that you happened to have ether handy. I wouldn't like to imagine what might've happened if you'd decided to stay in tonight." I also lied when I said sorry, and when I swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but. Little white lies are the oil in the gears of civilization.
"Oh, I always carry that, too," Fell explained earnestly. "One gets into the habit after one's first run-in with strychnine, and of course ether has so many useful applica—"
"I wouldn't, angel," Crowley interrupted, sounding very amused. "Mr. Donovan thinks you're the one behind this."
"Oh," said Fell, nonplussed. "Gosh. Well, I — I suppose I can't blame him. He doesn't know me from Adam, after all, and has no reason to trust me — I did warn you about giving people funny ideas, Crowley, honestly. Of course," Fell turned to me, laying an elegant hand across his chest, "if you were to search me, you would find only a small collection of antidotes — oh, but a habitual poisoner would probably carry those, too, especially if he were the sort of voyeur with a penchant for playing the hero. I certainly wouldn't be convinced of my innocence. Yes, I can certainly understand whatever suspicion you might feel towards me, however misplaced it may be."
Crowley watched this thought process with an expression somewhere between fascination and agony. "Well, at least now he probably thinks that if you'd done it, you'd have been caught by now," he remarked, presumably because he was thinking the same thing. "You'll have to excuse my friend," Crowley added to me. "He still believes that the innocent have nothing to fear. Somehow."
"First time visiting?" I guessed.
Fell's bemusement answered my question before he did. "Pardon?"
"Never mind."
#good omens#1920s#noir#detective fiction#lgbt fiction#original fiction#(as it were; i should probably go back and tag the posts in this series more identifiably)#is this a human AU or are Crowley and Aziraphale just huge nerds? i don't know and neither does the outsider-POV narrator#i will finish this if there is public demand but otherwise This Is What You Get#(other stuff is still in the pipeline. this has just been a fuck of a year.)#i did this#my writing#a good man is hard to find (no not that one)
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Atlas n Frank...
theyre best buddies (TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!)
funky lil alt under the cut :-)
i hate these guys so much they're literally all i fucking think abt on a daily basis its horrible /silly
(i could go. on and on abt them in this. au honestly . the whole au IS technically abt them anyways sooo)
#bioshock#frank fontaine#atlas bioshock#bioshock atlas#bioshock fanart#my post ‼️#frank nibbles fontaine ily#Maritime's Conundrum ‼️#cw eyestrain#eyestrain#(just in case!!)#this is kinda. shitty cuz im recovering from illness#but my brain. DEMANDED i draw them so#Frank and That Fucking Bird That I Hate <3#does anyone actually. read my ramblings? cuz i be writing it up down here#anyways i think they should k- (Horse runs past) HOLY SHIT DID UU SEE THAT????#i love them honestly i think they're both such good characters#they have. so much potential as a duo i swear please.listen to me#idgaf. that they're the same guy.. let them interact n hold hands n goof off they both deserve it :-(#its my au i can do whatever i want!!!!!#I AM. WORKING ON AN AU EXPLANATION POST. i just needa make. some art for it :-)#okay illness is claiming me again uhh listen to Dance Dance by fob#shoutout. to whoever is reading this cuz man im yapping
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For the next like, two days, Boys and Wolves will be tagged with Geta & Cara instead of Geta/Cara.
I do not anticipate this state to last any longer than that, but presently the & team of demons in our head has scored a win.
I fucking hate tagging this fic I swear to god. No matter what we do with it it's going to give the wrong impression to someone. The A/N section to explain the relationship tag is several miles long and even that I don't think helps.
Like yes it's platonic. No they're not being platonic about it. Questions? Me too.
#writing talk#what do you call a pair of boys who've never been anything#if not the best and the worst of one another#who have no boundaries#who will consider no other being to be as they are#who will never elevate another to the world they share together#but who are still inherently siblings above other things#feel for each other at the core how a sibling should#but nobody ever taught them boundaries#and even if boundaries would have been taught#upholding them would isolate them from every comfort they have#like. how do you fucking tag that shit#inventing a new symbol for this relationship specifically#looking up a hieroglyph for 'a big fucking mess'#this is coming literally one chapter before like.....#such a scene#and I don't know if I can with good conscience#still tag that scene with &#even when the scene itself is a firm rejection of /#the fact that it exists alone challenges the &#I wish I was writing a book so I wouldn't need to make these choices?#like when you pick up a book#you read what it says#and make up your own goddamn mind#I wish I could do the same here.#just let people read and make up their minds#honestly I think this bit is unfair with fanfiction#we're not allowed ambiguity#because the tagging systems demand that lines are drawn.
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I very very rarely get upset on this blog, but this email pissed me the FUCK off. I’ve gotten quite a few messages with this tone before, but this one really set me off. It's been a shit week for me, and I didn't need this.
I spend hours a week trying to write shit for free for all of you, because I genuinely enjoy it and love it so so so much. Your ideas and comments make me so happy. But sometimes I need to take a fucking break.
Three days ago one of my birds suddenly went from alive and happy to seizing and dying in my arms while I comforted her the best I could, so I'm taking a few days off. Sorry if that's inconvenient for you.
Jesus Christ. And you guys fucking wonder why so many other writers are so fed up with the 'content' grindstone and just quit or hide in private discords. You don’t update something for a bit and you get people knocking at your door like you're fucking Wal-mart. If you can’t be bothered to add a few more words to your comment, why should I be bothered to write more.
Put some basic fucking human effort into communicating with the people who spend hours creating your self indulgence pieces out of kindness and a love of the community. How about instead of saying "MAKE THIS" you say hello and put some effort into your ask. You're asking someone to spend hours of their life writing something for you, not ordering chicken nuggets.
And if the person who sent this comment sees this? I'm sorry I'm this angry and you're the unfortunate target of it, but maybe next time you notice something hasn't been updated in a few months you remember that there's a human being with a life behind it before sending a one word demand for more. Shit happens. I highly doubt you can't find something else to read.
#I’d say delete later but I’m leaving it up so y’all see how so many interactions between writers and readers are now#theres so many good and fun readers but I get asks/comments like this at least a few times a week and I’m a small very niche writer#I delete any snooty/demanding asks or hate but this one pissed me the fuck off for some reason#I just feel like a hello or please isn’t too much to ask for#vent#not writing
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