#how did i write this in one sitting

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[vulpinesaint]

quiz enjoyers! i am now inviting you to come create something in my workshop❕

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie x female!reader thought 18+ only

Eddie blinks his eyes a couple of times to make sure he is actually seeing what he is seeing. He must be living in a nightmare.

You're laying back on one of the pool loungers. One leg dangling over the edge keeping your foot on the warm cement ground, the other spread over Steve's lap as he absently rubs his hand up and down it while he bitches to you about something from work. Your hand rubs up and down Steve's back in comfort. But that isn't the nightmare.

Your bright red bikini bottoms covering enough, but with your legs spread a bit more skin is shown then intended. Spread in such a way that makes Eddie want to just dive in. Get on his knees and worship you, rub his face over your mound as he licks and nips and sucks. Moan as the curly thatch of hair brushes against his face.

Except the curls of hair he is expecting to see peeking around your bikini are gone. Just smooth bare skin. And that isn't the only nightmare. Steve's chest is smooth like when he was in school on the swim team. Not a speck of that beautiful chest hair Eddie would curl into after getting hot and heavy. Not a single curl of the "love rug" he jokingly called it.

Eddie wants to weep. To throw himself down like a little kid and thrash his arms and legs around. Yeah, it's your body and you can do what you want, but he still is sad its gone. Eddie doesn't like change, and suddenly walking in to see both of his partners change something without any warning? Uncomfortable. It makes Eddie feel itchy.

Eddie can barely speak as he walks over and sits next to Steve. He doesn't respond to Steve's warm greeting. Doesn't respond to you asking how the day is. Just stares with big wet eyes at the sight in front of him. A pout on his lips.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder, gently squeezing. Steve's brow furrowed in concern, your wide eyes blinking at him.

"Shaved?" Eddie asks in a quiet voice, eyes darting to Steve's chest and then your clothed pussy. Steve lets out a huff of laughter, "Fuck, thought something was wrong man." Eddie glares," It is."

[fictionadventurer]

A Biltmore Christmas may be the first Hallmark movie to drive me to fanfic.

[crab-people-overlord]

I was reading through someone else’s post who makes a great point about how both ‘Ginger Cow’ and ‘Humancentipad’ are both just…. painful episodes of Kyle suffering to watch, but how ‘Ginger Cow’ expands more on Kyle’s dynamics with the others so is an important one to not skip over. I already had an analysis of this episode queued up, but decided to share now lol.

What sets the two episodes apart is that ‘Humancentipad’ doesn’t really add much to any of the canon for the show, so you honestly don’t miss much if you skip that episode. It doesn’t really demonstrate any new dynamics or canon for any of them. We already know Cartman manipulates his mom and enjoys Kyle's suffering. And we already know Stan and others will try to help Kyle when he's in trouble. It's South Park business as usual.

But "Ginger Cow"? Even though this episode is similarly painful to watch, it’s very important in how it develops the relationships between ALL of the main four boys in relation to Kyle, especially the Kyle-Stan-Cartman triangle.

There's something very telling and interesting about how Cartman torments Kyle in this episode. It's not just his usual "ha ha Kyle suffers" routine - it's way more psychological and to an extent, more sophisticated than his usual tactics (funny to call breathing in farts sophisticated, but… eh, in the way he uses it as torture, it is). Cartman basically creates this whole elaborate scenario where Kyle has to CHOOSE to subject himself to humiliation, which is so much more twisted than just directly trying to cause him pain through the same remarks he usually does. He weaponizes Kyle’s own martyr complex against him, which is kind of genius in a fucked up way.

In the B plot, you have Kenny and Stan who just do not understand why Kyle is going along with Cartman’s whims. Stan has many scenes in which he confronts Kyle. He is genuinely trying to understand why Kyle is going along with this and not giving up - and Kenny to a lesser extent is in the background backing Stan up.

Stan tries many different tactics to get Kyle to stop succumbing to Cartman’s farting, and when he sees that Kyle is too stubborn to stop, he then tries to see where Kyle is coming from. He really respects Kyle, and in his mind, if Kyle won’t stop, there must be a reason for it, right? But Kyle won’t open up to the ‘why’ of it all. At one point, Stan starts his line of questioning again. “... Dude, we’ve been friends for a long time. Can you just at least tell me why you like Cartman’s farts so much?.... You like… how they smell? How they taste?.... Should I try them?”

He offers to try them himself to understand, which is WILD lmfao. But he just genuinely is so confused as to why Kyle is letting himself be tortured to the point that he offers to go try it as well, and if that isn’t a bro being a bro, then I don’t know what tf is. Of course, Kyle exclaims, “NO”, wanting to save him from the same fate as what he has to go through. Kyle is justifying it in his mind as he really does think he is being the chosen one to save humanity here.

While this episode is hard to watch, I do genuinely find the Stan and Kenny dynamics hilarious and underrated. The repeated scenes where Stan goes to recap his conversation with Kyle are so funny. At one point, Stan says, “I don’t get it, Kenny,” to a Kenny that’s been waiting patiently outside. Kenny just shrugs and says, “Dude, maybe he’s, like, mentally ill or something”, lmaoooo.

And then the moment where Stan goes on the big screen as he calls Kyle is genuinely funny to me as well. He tries to tell Kyle he found out Cartman’s been lying, and Kyle is like, “Duh, dude. Why the fuck do you think I’ve been going along with it 😭” And that’s when Stan finally understands why Kyle’s doing it. But he still tells Kyle he thinks he’s being a dick about it all, but ultimately decides to help Kyle out. I think the part where Stan tells Kyle sternly that he needs to apologize to Kenny as well is so fucking funny (and then Kenny’s cheery ‘It’s okay, Kyle!’) is everything lmfao.

Stan and Kyle’s dynamic here particularly is interesting to me because it is SO similar to their dynamic in the ‘Butterballs’ episode, just in reverse where Stan is the one lecturing Kyle for getting up his ass for trying to be a ‘savior’.

Stan mentions something like this many times, but when Kyle compares himself to Gandhi, Stan replies, “You know, I don’t think when Ghandi starved himself he was all ‘Dude look how fuckin’ awesome I am for starving. Check me out!””. This is pretty much the same parallel as Kyle telling Stan he was gonna end up naked and jacking it in San Diego in “Butterballs”. Both those episodes are painful for me to watch, but I do love how it shows how both Stan and Kyle care about each other enough to call each other out on their bullshit like real friends should.

I think that both Stan and Kyle both have moments where they get so caught up in trying to be the ‘hero’ that they don’t realize they’re being more performative and making justifications rather than actually helping. (other examples include ‘A Scause for Applause’ for Stan, and ‘Crack Baby Athletic Association’ for Kyle.) Note that I think these episodes are more the exception rather than the rule for both characters as I really do think both try their hardest in their own ways to be good, but those episodes are examples of what I mentioned above and add interesting depth to both their characters.

p.s. there’s a deleted scene where Stan and Kenny actually go to the doctor to try to find out what’s wrong with Kyle and it’s so cute lmfao. It’s giving the time stan went to the doctor to try to give up his kidney for Kyle. It’s short, but also shows how much they truly work hard behind the scenes to help their friend out. One of the screenshots provided is from that scene.

[jessicas-pi]

For the au ask game! Sabezra in a *flips through my au ideas list* private detectives au

so. yeah. this. this is egregiously late. But it's HERE! At long last!

....to be entirely honest I don't even know what this is. it's sabezra. they're private detectives. let's just leave it at that.

---

"Ezra, what are you doing?"

Her partner in preventing crime (and occasional partner in actual crime---they may or may not have broken into a house once; no one could prove anything) had stopped in the middle of the grim alleyway, staring at nothing in particular.

"Sabine..." he said slowly. "I think this is where I met you."

Sabine did a double-take, looking around with keen eyes. The place didn't seem familiar, but she'd been so distracted on that day, she probably wouldn't know it if she was there.

"Is it?" she asked, strolling back to him, hiking up her long skirt and stepping cautiously around the filth on the ground. "You think so?"

"Mm-hm." A nostalgic smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "You know, I've still got the handkerchief you gave me."

Sabine grinned at him. "Of course you do. You were in the throes of violent yearning. You couldn't bear to part with it."

"And my nose was still bleeding."

"That too."

"And if you recall, I did try to give it back to you---later." His smile grew proud. "Tracked you down with just your monogram and a glimpse at your face. First bit of detecting I ever did."

Sabine slipped her arm through his, hopping lightly over something that could have been a filthy rag or maybe the carcass of a large rat, as they continued on their trek towards home. The streets cleared up when they got to the main roads, but there was still the inevitable splash of mud.

Mud was everywhere in London.

"I thought you might have been a princess when I saw you on the stairs then," he blurted out, and she tilted her head up to look at him from beneath the brim of her large flowered hat. He gave her a sweetly bashful smile and a shrug. "With those big white puffs in your hair---"

"Ostrich feathers," she filled in automatically, turning her attention back to the pavement and nodding politely to a gentleman and lady who passed by them.

"---and that white dress, too." Ezra laughed to himself. "Golly, you're lucky you kept it. Your old lady wasn't gonna give you a nickel for another one."

Sabine squeezed his arm affectionately. "I could have worn any dress."

"Well, no one would have thought it was a proper wedding if we hadn't got you in white."

"No one thought it was a proper wedding when we did," she retorted. "They thought I was degrading myself."

"Then the joke is on them, because I hit the big time pretty well, didn't I?"

Sabine arched an eyebrow. "You wouldn't have amounted to anything if I hadn't got us into the illustrated papers."

Ezra paused on the pavement as they reached the steps of their lodgings, looking thoughtful.

"You're right. I wouldn't have."

"Then it seems you're lucky you've got me."

He looked right into her eyes and grinned boyishly, slipping into his most intolerably trans-Atlantic accent. "We do make a pretty bang-up team, don't we?"

"A jolly good one," she nodded in prim agreement, adopting an obnoxiously posh tone, and they both giggled, smiling at each other for a moment more before a distant clock chimed the quarter of the hour, reminding them that they were on a schedule.

"Well, I suppose we had best go on in. Our client will be here any minute now."

"I guess so."

And with that, the unstoppable team of Bridger and Bridger ascended the steps of their home at 221b Spectre Street, arm-in-arm.

[airenyah]

i've managed to get really far with my ep4 meta, i've only got just over 3 scenes left (the "be my bf" scene, style finding out the truth, the gym scene, and i gotta finish the nc scene) but the problem is that i've only got about 4h left which i'll probably need to write it all up in the first place (also it's less than 3h bc i'm also travelling) and then i would still need to make the gifs and proof read it, which is also gonna be time consuming rip

[13reasonstoeatthatcake]

I really want to know how Lilith Sorrengail feels about trying her best to get her youngest daughter away from whatever it was that her dad supposedly found in the Archives after Brennan 'died', just to get said daughter even more involved with the tyrrish rebellion two: electric boogaloo.

[introspectivememories]

I FORGOT I EVEN SENT THAT ASK AND YOUR RESPONSE HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK OHMSYGODDFJDJ

I seriously love your writing so much you always put a heap of emotion into it 😭😭

also adore the idea of TIM being the one who's obsessed with bear and going to such lengths just to keep seeing him, I tend to prefer happy endings so I like to think they work it out after a while but like also the angst is amazing

god the amount of yearning in this au makes me so mmmpfhhhf

god im just so sorry that it took me soo long to reply!!! you sent just as i was taking my break from tumblr and other social media :(((

i remember reading it and thinking to myself "god if i had the timbern brainworms, i could write smth for this" but then recently they've been coming back and i was a church bored out of my mind when i was like "hmmm maybe i should respond?"

and ohhh my god, when i first got it, i immediately thought about how toxic it could get and like, personally, i feel like i can't write complicated characters? if that makes sense? to me, im not very good at writing multi-dimensional characters. which to be fair, i never set out to become like a pulitzer prize winning author. i just do this for fun haha.

and like i knew that my answer to your ask was always gonna be toxic timbern but i didn't know if i could write it? ig??? bc like tim is a good person. he is!!! he just wants bear so badly. and it's past the initial physical attraction now.

he and bear are all grown up. he likes bear's wit and humor, well the wit and humor he gets to hear when bear doesn't know he's around. but bear wont let him in!!!! bear wont open himself up and tim's apologized!!!! he did!!! he doesn't even know what he did and he still apologized!!!!! and it changed nothing. bear doesn't talk to him or look at him or anything. nothing but polite professionalism.

and then one day, he sees bear on his balcony as he's swinging through the streets of gotham. and bear isn't doing anything special, he's just sitting there in sweats and no shirt and the moonlight hits his pecs just right and his shoulders are so broad and-

well he cant be blamed for stopping to take a peek, right? and maybe when he has has time he swings by more and more. just watching for longer and longer, until one day bear catches him. and as they stare at each other from opposite sides of the street, tim thinks this is it. the cold glances and frosty words are going to come back. bear's never gonna just sit on his balcony again. he's lost this too. but then-

oh.

bear sends him a hesitant wave and tim raises a trembling hand to wave back. and bear- well bear's mouth splits into a smile brilliant enough to rival the sun. beautiful like the sunrise. the promise of a new beginning. if he closes his eyes, tim thinks he can feel the sunlight's warm rays on him.

hes' hooked after that. he comes around again and again. one day bear lets him on the balcony. weeks later, bear's hugging him. weeks after that, tim's in bear's lap. and he knows it's not right. that bear thinks he's someone else. that bear doesnt want anything to do with him but how is he supposed to let this go? how is he supposed disentangle himself from bear's arms?

so he lies and he lies and he prays to any and every god he can think of, that he'll get to keep this. plus he's not really lying to bear, he's just... not talking about it! if bear asks, he'll tell him point blank. he swears it. but that's a problem for another day. things are looking up! bear said more than 5 sentences to him the other day and yesterday? he even got a small smile. it'll all work out. he'll be fine.

[ryllen]

"Bran is practically my brother's cat" - is what i would like to think

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Honestly, I wish I had more of a summery to give, but have my origin story interpretation of "Of Heart and Harvest" Taishen Fireblossom being a badass and getting to Breeg while also fighting his faith and deity to favor a new one.

[autistic-katara]

just remembered my s1 drama class made us watch the boy in the striped pyjamas and act out scenes from it what the actual fuck was that about

[fluffypotatey]

If SWK and MK come from the same stone, does that mean they are brothers? I don't know how others would see it though.

i think that all depends on the audience (and if i’m being honest, i hope that canon doesn’t clarify it precisely bc the fandom discourse will be insufferable 🙄 and i am so sick of THAT type of discourse)

are they brothers? if that fits with how their dynamic works for you, then sure! it makes sense when they do share the same egg, but also can we really place that as the distinction?

personally, SWK and MK’s dynamic to me reads like mentor/pupil that borders the line of familial (but what are those familial lines to me??? it is so vague, bestie if i’m being honest. sometimes i view them as brothers with an age gap. sometimes it’s uncle/nephew, and sometimes it’s grandpa/grandchild). i wouldn’t call their relationship brotherly the same way i would argue for the royalty duo. it’s just an unlabeled type of found family to me, ya know?

but canon-wise? well it has the mentor/pupil but also shows how they blur the lines into a friendship by s2. and then we have s4 teasing about SWK being MK’s possible dad (and why the teasing? well, the story is playing in the same assumptions audience members made: swk is a monkey, MK has monkey powers, they share similar enemies, and then you have the stone egg). but then the season ends leaving the connection between MK and SWK still vague while re-establishing the father/son with Pigsy and MK (and strengthening it in s5 bless)

AND THEN!!! S5 begins with SWK and MK finding their stone (i believe it was SWK who said “our stone” if my context clues are working) and even after MK’s origins are revealed, there still isn’t a solid confirmation on the familial aspect between SWK and MK but there is a connection. but i have no idea what the characters were saying, idk if they made any of that clear in s5

anyway, short answer: SWK and MK coming from the same stone does not need to mean they are brothers. it can be if you want it to even after lmk canon confirms or denies it. my personal interpretation is more blurry than brothers but to each their own

[nejackdaw]

(reads my own fic) woah. I'm so good at my job