#dont forget about the fanfiction

[kitoblob]

I've struggled a lot in life but you'd be damned if you think I'll let Joanne outlive me

[cassandracain52]

Reverse trope

where instead of the Bats forgetting that they’re adopted (something actual adoptees do on occasion and is hilarious) they forget that some of them *cough Damian cough* aren’t

_______

Jason in the heat of a probably ridiculous argument: Yeah well YOU’RE adopted!

Tim just as invested in said argument: So are YOU! We all are!

Damian who had previously been quietly watching this unfold while he drank his tea: Actually I’m not

Tim and Jason who didn’t realize he was there but are already DoneTM: …… Damian continuing to sip his tea entirely unbothered: :)

Damian: Because I’m not an orphan-

Jason: ok, yoU KNOW WHAT-

____

or like in their group texts (that we know they have thanks to Nightwing (2016) #79)

*Steph changed the group chat name to “Bruce Wayne’s Personal Orpanage”*

Jason: Really?

Steph: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Steph: It’s the truth Damian: Both my parents are very much alive

Steph: Shhh you don’t count

Cass: Mine too Duke: Technically so are mine

Barbara: I still have a dad so there’s that

Steph: YOU GUYS ARE RUINING THE JOKE

Tim: Stephanie aren’t BOTH of your parents alive???

Steph: KNOW WHAT? FINE

*Steph changed the group chat name to “The Technicality Police”*

Tim: well that’s more accurate at least

Steph: :)

_____

Damian in his 10th argument with Tim of the day: That’s- this is-

Tim in full Antagonizing Big Brother mode: I’m listening

Damian -a Gen Z and best friend to Jon Kent- extremely frustrated: This is such Motherless behavior!

Tim taken aback: [voice cracking] W-what-?

Damian who didn’t mean to say that but doubling down anyway because his bloodline doesn’t believe in admitting mistakes: THIS! This is such Motherless behavior!

The rest of the family who is also motherless: :O

Cass whose been spending way too much time with Meme Queen Stephanie Brown and not involved in the argument but finding it entertaining regardless: [nodding along seriously] Facts

Tim: [visibly betrayed] CASS WHAT-

A video copy of the interaction gets sent out anonymously to the entire family. Barbara is the prime suspect but there is no proof as of yet (and they will never find any)

Steph, Cass, and Duke continue to respond “Motherless behavior” everytime one of the bats does something they deem questionable/insane. It is said often

It only stops when one night in the middle of patrol. Batman is in full Dark Knight mode (possibly in the middle of threatening someone) and descends from the ceiling into the middle of a warehouse drug deal, dark cape billowing out behind him-

and Steph just automatically whispers “Motherless behavior” forgetting her com was still very much on

She immediately realizes what she said and frantically apologizes but it’s too late.

Bruce just- Blue Screens. Completely stunned into silence

Dick -who was unfortunate enough to be the one teamed up with Batman tonight- is fighting for his life to choke back his laughter

Jason doesn’t even try to stop his and has collapsed to his knees from lack of air from how hard he’s laughing. Cass try’s half heartedly patting his back to help to no avail

The criminals are terrified into surrender from The Red Hood just laughing hysterically at seemingly nothing while Batman just Stands There

Damian ends up being the only one still functioning enough to continue arresting everyone, though he is privately amused and strangely proud

Tim and Barbara have saved both the com recordings and cowl footage to at least three different servers and sent it to absolutely everyone before Batman even recovers

Duke finds out second hand the next morning and is furious he missed the chance to see it in person. He declares he is moving to the nightshift so it doesn’t happen again. (He is all talk and goes to bed by 9 pm)

Bruce bans the phrase for life and promises swift and server punishment to anyone who dares to use it again

[elystelleven]

A Pretty Cool AU Concept I Have In Mind:

The Dark Flour War never happened, and the Ancients spend a hundred more years letting their kingdoms flourish and keeping Earthbread as prosperous as ever. Thanks to their efforts, they decide to establish some kind of alliance/union dedicated to improving an area of cookiekind they most excel in (e.g. Dark Cacao in combat and White Lily in knowledge) and are given the opportunity to visit each other and enlighten on whatever problems they have. You know, the typical ancient shenanigans but on a much grander scale!

Hoooowever, this doesn't entirely mean their world is free of conflict. On the other hand, the St. Pastry Order and dark magic practitioners (that cake monsters happen to be apart of) manage to set aside their differences and join together to form a bigger, more dangerous underground organization with the intention of changing cookiekind in a similar vain to Dark Enchantress's motives and the Order's original belief to "walk with the truth in mind", whatever that means. Their conflict with the Ancients will hold much more nuance since their beliefs clash with one another, not to mention the Order being too good of a group to just be... ignored by the canon for some reason... (devsisters if I catch your hands--)

Oh and of course, the Beasts will find a way to meddle with these antics and play a much bigger part in the story than we realize.

There's also gonna be lore elements from Witch's Castle too! The story of the Witch of Light and the "First" cookies are just too intriguing and I don't really see them being integrated in fan stories (from what I've seen, at least) so why not sprinkle them here as well?

[robotsafari]

i had a dream where something was off with riku’s shadow…

(this art is so sucks i made this when i was tired and less experienced which ended up making riku look so much skinnier than how i normally draw him post-kh2 can you stop engaging it with pretty pweeease)

[atlaskrr]

dont you hate it when you ship a rarepair and most of the content is ooc and/or horny cause nobody understands their actual dynamic. yeah me too.

[mangofresca]

halcyon | 18+

Romano feels like he’s dancing in his sleep, that shifting, swaying motion like waves across the beach and toes dragging through sand, like water and rhythm pulling his chest high, his shoulders low, stretching out his hips, his knees, his ankles. The soft cotton of his pillowcase scratches and tickles at his cheekbone when he turns his head into it, wisping itself against his clavicle, and he sighs against it, lets it swallow his breath the same way it swallows the heat of his body, an echo of warmed contentment and easy dreaming.

The mattress beneath him dips, and he almost pushes away the palm that slides across his stomach, his sternum, but it’s warm, too, and Romano always liked being warm, and he liked being warm beneath this hand even more. He leans into it, instead, keeps his eyes closed, and he makes a small noise that’s half deliberate and half desultory—because he does mean to acknowledge Spain, but he doesn’t mean to acknowledge him like a cat waking from a nap in lazy, dozy sunbeams, purring.

But that’s fine. That’s fine. He knows Romano sometimes sounds like that when he’s waking, and even not, just sometimes when he’s beneath the pads of Spain’s fingers, and Romano feels fine when the mattress dips again and Spain hovers over him, knees sweetly nudging his apart.

Romano keeps his eyes closed when lips skim his jaw, keeps himself ensconced in the soft sunlight that shines itself across his eyelids. It’s good like this, he thinks. It’s nice. He can hear himself breathe with an awareness he never really has when he’s around Spain, always too preoccupied with other things, irrelevant things—what he’s doing, what he’s not, what he could be doing to Spain, instead. He likes being conscious of it, of his body and his reactions, and he sighs again when that palm moves to his side, his rib cage and lower, fingers skimming over his thigh as they drag heated sheets down, away.

There’s a laugh twinkling in his ear, something bright and charmed, and his skin pricks with cognizance when he feels the breath of it, lips curving into a smile against his cheek. “Awake yet?”

Spain speaks his vowels in a whisper, his consonants always catching on the tip of his tongue, and Romano’s shoulder shifts back in a shiver, presses into the bed when soft breeze meets skin, humid and carrying the smell of midmorning sunrise.

He makes a noise again, some groaned mhm that rumbles itself up his chest and out his throat, that gets lost somewhere around his lips when the heat of Spain’s laughter leaves his cheek and instead drifts across his nipple—and the gasp that leaves him is a surprised one.

He feels stupid like this, naïve, foolish, as if he isn’t war- and weather-worn, born and raised in the echoing, thundered footsteps of the Roman Empire, older than the New World and older still, as if his own sand dunes aren’t his brothers, the rolling fields his sisters. But this is his life now: homes across his country and Spain’s, furnished with soft beds and yellow kitchens and flowing curtains that always let the light in, because neither of them ever really do well when away from the sun, too used to its bite to go without for longer than a day, two. He wakes, now, to sheets that settle across the curves of his body, to someone in his bed, wiggling his legs until they settle around tanned hips, to sea-chapped lips that hum the song of his name until he is something melodious, made of more than sinew and sand, of memory.

Spain whispers his name, a question carried softly through balmy air and that sounds so fucking in love Romano almost opens his eyes, almost gives into the needling whine of it—

But Spain always did his best work when given a task, and Romano knows Spain has no qualms about being set to work on Romano, no end to the things he would let Spain do to him, and though his mouth goes dry as Spain nips at his throat and presses a finger against him, he can only find the energy to laugh, just dry air, enough to breathe Spain in, too.

When Spain dips down and kisses him, Romano kicks the sheets up and over Spain’s back. They are still warm, and so is he.

[someonedefinitely]

i was re-reading my first fic (it's an unfinished long fic and I wanted to get an idea on wtf is going on to complete the thing), and holy shit do I want to delete the fic and myself from existence

like I wanna go up to every single person who has ever read this crap and genuinely apologize

[bogslob]

Ao3 ship stats is my version of spotify wrapped

[killerpancakeburger]

Any other writer mad about the fact that scenarios come to you under the form of images/videos in your mind so you have to transcribe them into words? Like visual artists don't have that problem. They can just... draw directly what's in their head.

[weirdlizard26]

hmmmm thinking abt where to post my gomens fic.

[pointyobjects]

Rules: Make a poll with the names of you WIPs, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote that the winner receives. Open for a week.

Addition: I'm gonna write one sentence for every vote, winner or not, because some of these babies are CAKED in dust.

[lunatheskier]

In the light of Netflix Daredevil cannon being very vague of when Matt and Foggy met I have made the head cannon that they met in undergrad first or second year as that is what makes the most sense in my head. That being said sometimes I forget that is a head cannon and sometimes get very confused when reading fanfiction and the fic does not follow my head cannon.

[bmpmp3]

DRAW headshots of the vague character designs of the cast of the horror visual novel with a romance-based route structure u were going to make when u were like 17. DRAW them for your health

[vivitalks]

“Is someone dying?”

“No! It's nothing like that.”

“Okay, I just had to check!” Luke pauses. “Am I dying? Am I dead and this is the afterlife?”

“What about this situation—”

“Maybe it’s a test to get into heaven! Like I have to comfort my friend in order to prove— I don’t know, man! I’ve never…” Luke swallows. “I’ve never seen you cry before.”

The faint amusement on Alex’s face wilts away. He breathes out, shakes his head, and then inhales deeply. “I, uh…” He sits on the armrest of their ratty sofa. “I came out to my parents.”

“Oh, shit,” Luke whispers.

hi. julie and the phantoms fanfiction for you and yours.

[hopefullyandrogynousartist]

I am so fucking close to finishing my goddamn fic that I started nearly two years ago. Jesus Christ I cannot be trusted with time management.

[hatchets-garages]

Fanfiction is silly, you'll search a tag that sounds good or what you feel like reading. For me it would be somthin like Steve Harrington/Danny Jed olsen Johnson

Then boom

There's not that many, and if there are it's mostly somthin like "lol I made a kinkbook" but it only has 300 words and 73 tags