#good fanfic go read it

[justanotherpjofan]

I was reading a batfamily fanfic where Bruce Wayne is the master of the Court of Owls and the whole family is involved and Roy Harper moves to Gotham falls in love with Jason and blah blah blah. Really good btw.

My point is that at the very first chapter a side character describe the Waynes as the most handsome people of Gotham, like she says "yeah Bruce totally a Dilf, Dick a god among men and Jason is handsome and rugged as hell"

And then she describes Tim  “Hence his small size and the bags under the bags under his eyes,” 

Like she is not wrong but is a funny contrast between god-like beuty and bags under bags.

The older Waynes? Flawless men. Tim? Sleep deprived chaos gremlin.

[jay-wasstuff]

-

Bonus: the old man (+insp)

[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.

[thatskindarough]

“‘I just…I thought you might like to come back, one day,’ Crowley said very quietly. Aziraphale’s foot pressed against his again, and Crowley drew in a sudden breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly since Aziraphale had stopped touching him.”

This piece was a commission from the lovely @fellshish for their lovely friend, @alphacentaurinebula ‘s fic What Are You Doing Here? This fic is cute, funny, heartwarming, and incredibly spicy, and I’m very much looking forward to finishing it! Thank you Fells for being wonderful to work with, and happy (belated) birthday to you Alphacentauri, I’m very happy I could do this for you!

[insufferablemod]

You watch him hem and haw over answering, feet shifting, same beat up black shoes, scuffing the gravel, cape swishing behind him in a one-two step. The halo of his hair, bleached eery white in the street lamp, how the light never seems to catch the rim of his shades. You missed this, you think. The bits of him that are so unsettlingly inhuman, how he's so close to you, but just far enough that you couldn't reach to touch. - Metempsychosis

[riverstyx125]

Wildfire is complete!

artwork by @mrghostrat and editing/title by my glorious son who is a genius and I'm not biased at all.

"Breathe, Crowley. Inhale, exhale. Remind your stupid lungs to do their goddamn job. Don’t let the sight of that dandelion-fluff hair, those broad shoulders, those gorgeous, expressive eyes (pale blue in the harsh fluorescent light of the airport terminal) completely derail you."

Huge shout out to @goodomensafterdark for all of the support and encouragement for my first fic!

@laudaddysmitten - the bestest, kindest, most encouraging beta!

[fourthcupofrice]

@rebornofstars. HI BEE!!!!! I FINISHED IT!!!!!!!

EVERYBODY GO READ BEE’S WORK PRIMORDIALS!!!! ITS REALLY COOL. CLICK OVER HERE RN!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56295496/chapters/143026147

Bee that first chapter was just so amazing, it kept staying on my mind until i drew it. I love love the idea that Time doesn’t really remember Captain, and Wars doesn’t recognize his little buddy 20+ years later. I love that mystery element. Beyond the comedy of everyone in the group believing themselves to be the only mortal person in the group, I absolutely love the vibes around Time. He IS Time itself and its really good!!!! His natural Strangeness is so good, and it’s half heart-warming half terrifying how much he admires Warriors and genuinely thinks he is the protector of all soldiers and patron of battle.

close ups and drawing rambling below the cut

I’m so proud of the baby especially. I gave Fierce unicorn hair just cause I can, he deserves it. I love his stupid sword that makes no sense. If a 10 ft tall guy with unicorn hair and a glitter sword showed up I’d be so scared. His sword isn’t glittery in game but I do what I want.

the original draft was super desaturated with a really yucky pallet, and I was kinda digging it, but with Fierce’s sill my sparkly hair the desaturated panel didn’t look purposefully yucky anymore and just normal yucky, so I added a little more color.

[gingerale13]

2 scenes from the fic where Scout gets stuck in a time loop -- Going Through The Motions by the wonderful @aussie-bookworm! GO READ IT ON AO3!!

+ Alt versions under the cut

[katiefrog217]

Crowley wasn't good at doing it himself, but Aziraphale was more than happy to preen his wings for him.

-----------------------------------------------------

Crowley wasn't very good at taking care of his feathers.

Aziraphale's were always so immaculately groomed. Rarely was a feather out of place, unless he was going through a particularly ill-timed molt. Some called it vanity, Aziraphale called it "looking presentable".

He could hardly blame Crowley for his lack of self-care though; his serpentine physique was hardly equipped with the tools to care for them. If it really got bad, he could always miracle them into shape, though he hardly even bothered to do that.

It had gotten to Aziraphale one day and he had set about fussing with the demon's wings, plucking out every errant feather and straightening the remaining ones. By the time he finished his task, the black feathers shone glossy and pristine in the lamp light. He puffed up with pride as he examined his handiwork, only to wither as realization doused him like a bucket of ice water.

He glanced nervously at the owner of the wings, realizing with a start just how many feathers lay strewn about them. He could make an entire second pair of wings with them, and just as well since he had dug deep and found feathers that should have fallen out 2 molts ago (really, how had Crowley managed to stand it? It must have itched like anything)! Crowley, for his part, lay beneath the carnage, coiled tightly around Aziraphale unmoving. His glasses had long been set side, and Aziraphale turned to find himself being watched by those beautiful golden orbs. He pondered for a moment if Crowley was asleep (hard to tell since serpents couldn't blink), but a small flick of a tongue when their gazes met proved him wrong. He wished he'd been right.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Apologies my dear, i-it seems I got quite carried away..." He mumbled awkwardly, embarrassment evident in his tone, his feathers puffing reflexively. It was practically the understatement of the century. 'Carried away'. Preening one's feathers was an inherently personal, bordering on intimate, thing. Crowley especially didn't seem to like anyone touching his wings and here he had spent Heaven only knew how long preening them himself, WITHOUT SO MUCH AS ASKING HIM FIRST--

He shifted uncomfortably when Crowley didn't reply immediately, choosing instead to leisurely inspect the angelic dove's handiwork. The silence was deafening, and Crowley seemed determined to stretch it out indefinitely as his slit pupils raked over each feather individually. Aziraphale desperately searched his gaze for anything he could discern, but only found concentrated scrutiny.

Then finally, finally Crowley turned his golden gaze back to him, his tongue flickering thoughtfully. Aziraphale's heart hammered with anxiety as he unknowingly held his breath, his wings shuffling awkwardly at his side. His fluttering heart nearly took off itself when he finally heard Crowley's low drawl.

"Mhm, thanks. They look... Better. Clean. Neat. It felt... Nice," Crowley said slowly, his s's elongating as he eeked out the rare compliment, the last part mumbled so quietly Aziraphale nearly thought he imagined it. Before he could muster a reply, Crowley dipped his head, laying it firmly beneath Aziraphale's feathery breast. His coils tightened as one came up to cover his face, shielding his eyes from view. Evidently, he was done talking.

Aziraphale stood there silently for a moment, letting his racing heart slow to a more normal rhythm before he thought of trying to extract himself from the demon's coils. He had bothered Crowley enough for one night, he thought. However, the moment he made to move, those newly preened wings stretched out on either side, trapping him in, he quietly resigned himself instead.

He would find later that preening Crowley's feathers would, as many other things between them had, become part of their routine. On nights when they look particularly egregious or found themselves with nothing better to do, they would settle in a warm corner of Aziraphale's bookshop, and allow themselves this quiet, yet delicate moment between them.

[mcducky1356]

I needed to make some art for @remedyturtles Firefight because it’s SO good! If you haven’t read it yet I cannot recommend it enough!! (This is for chapter 15)

[idliketobeatree]

[notbecauseofvictories]

sometimes I think they put some sort of...aural drug in mediocre movies. If I played all these thoroughly middling movies in reverse, would I hear a satanic message telling me, YOU WILL BE TEMPTED BEYOND ALL REASON TO WRITE FANFIC ABOUT---YES, THE MOVIE YOU HALF-WATCHED WHILE COOKING AND ANSWERING EMAILS. YES. YES, I---YES, I'M SERIOUS. YES, THIS MOVIE. THE CHARACTERIZATION OR LACK THEREOF MAKES NO DIFFERENCE. UH HUH. MHM. YEP. LOOK, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES, I JUST WORK HERE OKAY?

[greykolla-art]

Are you still taking art requests? If so, Stede and Ed taking a nap?

Yeah babe! Love the suggestions!🌹🌹🌹

All these boys do is just nap and kiss! What a life!

It’s about being safe and warm and happy, after a long life of NOT having that!🤌❤️

[nanstar200]

Hi!! I’m back!! Ive been kinda obsessed w the DCA’s so I may or may not have a camera roll full of arts stored for later!

Brain rot thanks to @/shirajellyfish 💕

PLUS @eebie ‘s CREATURE!!

Also I was wondering if I should make a separate blog for specifically dca stuff? Or just post it all here? Not sure, but if you guys care that I post dca stuff here lmk!!

(ALSO HERES THE LINK TO @shirajellyfish ‘s AMAZING DCA FIC!!!! freaking amazing i can’t stop thinking about it UAGH ⬇️⬇️⬇️)

[saenda]

A cool hand pressed to his forehead, and Xie Lian moaned.

“I have to…I have to…” Xie Lian sobbed, his throat raw. “Hua Cheng…he’s…he’ll kill San Lang!”

“Shh, Gege. You’re having a nightmare.”

The gentleness of the familiar voice pulled him out of the clutches of sleep, and his eyes fluttered open. San Lang looked down at him, his gaze filled with a strange kind of darkness. With long, elegant fingers, San Lang swept Xie Lian’s sweaty hair from his face. Xie Lian’s heart stuttered.

You fall within my reach chapter 2, by @allthedeadliedown

Gosh, I’m already in love with this fic!! 😭😭😭

[jeriafterdark]

"If it had been a second sooner, if Sephiroth hadn’t hesitated, he may have been successful at stopping their plummet."

For @officially-tilly , Where Devotion Lies, Ch 16

Twitter