#i should have probably tagged the name of the fic

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fluffbruary FIC] You'll Know You're Defenseless

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1067 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2025, Turbo Lover AU, Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, floriography, pining, willful failure to communicate

Notes: Another fluff entry for Turbo Lover, though it's a little bittersweet. Title of course from the Judas Priest song that I named the series after.

Fluffbruary 2025 prompts: Day 13: jealous | rose | narrow Day 16: aquamarine | impress | interlude Day 17 : yearn | salty | reality

Summary: Mechanic Hob might. Possibly. Be pining. Just a little bit.

On AO3

There's a florist he passes on his way home from the garage.

Hob slows his stride as he draws even, today.

He is no stranger to looking over the window displays as he walks by, seeing what's new, snapping pics to look up later and cross-reference to flower language websites. Floriography is fascinating, okay, and also. He is not immune to daydreaming about crafting a custom bouquet to give Dream. Calla lilies for his beauty. Ranunculus; 'I'm dazzled by your charms'. Pink carnations; 'I'll never forget you'. Red camellias to say 'You're a flame in my heart'. Some fern fronds for sincerity and fascination. Blue orchids for enchantment, or maybe lavender roses—those would probably coordinate with the reds of the bouquet better. Maybe, if he's really daring, some sunny yellow jonquils for the old-fashioned sentiment 'I desire a return of affections'.

Because yeah. He really does, god help him.

Not that he can just say so.

He could send a bouquet anonymously, of course, from a secret admirer. But maybe that wouldn't mean anything to Dream, who has plenty of money and probably dozens of prospects for romance. Some anonymous bouquet would not impress him, would probably just wind up on a shelf somewhere, unremarked until it wilts, thrown out without another thought—meaningless to Dream.

Even as he thinks it, though, Hob is remembering the way Dream warms toward the smallest signs of affection, the way he blooms when Hob lavishes him with endearments, and he knows it's more likely Dream would obsess over such a bouquet. He would study it, disbelieving of its sincerity, researching the blooms to look for hidden meaning, finding only the message that Hob had meant to send and fixating on the idea that a stranger might feel such things about him but lack the courage to approach him directly.

So, Hob could maybe send a small bouquet. If he saved up a few pounds.

But he doesn't want to send anything anonymously, is the problem. One, there's also the slim chance it might actually set off alarm bells, make Dream worry about stalkers and strangers watching him. Hob doesn't want to accidentally trigger that kind of anxiety. But two, what he really wants…well. He wants to lavish gifts on Dream the way he thinks Dream deserves, wants to send him the biggest bouquet of compliments and swooning sentiment and declarations of intent; he wants to send roses, dozens upon dozens of ruby-red blooms proclaiming his love so loudly that Dream cannot help but see it, know it, feel it.

He definitely doesn't have that kind of money though. He's priced the sort of arrangements he dreams about and they're significantly beyond his modest budget.

And for all that he can see Dream craves affection, he's still…

See.

Dream is so, so very far out of his league. Romantically speaking. Dream's never said or done anything that indicates Hob could be anything more than this casual hookup and hangout arrangement that they've got going on. He gives Hob a taste of finer things and Hob gives him the best sex he could ever want, and they're both happy. It's perfect. It's amicable. It's tidy and delicious and uncomplicated except that Hob and his stupid helpless heart have always got to go falling farther than they ever should, getting attached and invested and—

Fucking—

Love. He's in love with Dream, he can admit it to himself. And it doesn't matter that it'll never be the storybook romance he'd like it to be. It truly doesn't. He can be happy with what he's got, happy being Dream's boy-toy, his favorite bit of rough, his arm- and eye-candy. That's their reality. He can be happy meeting whatever needs Dream will let him; it's better than not having Dream in his life at all. He can yearn all he likes but he can't expect someone as…as everything as Dream would ever truly consider a long-term life with Hob as his partner.

But oh, the florist's shop is calling him today. And maybe…maybe, if he's careful, he can give Dream a tiny, fleeting gift without giving himself away.

~

Hob is waiting at the curb when Dream pulls up outside his flat a couple hours later, the Porsche jerking to a stop in a way that makes Hob wince. He hides his grimace in a welcoming smile; Dream tries his best to follow Hob's advice about operating the manual transmission but ultimately he'd rather just let Hob drive when they're together.

Dream climbs gracefully out of the idling car and Hob stops him as he crosses in front of it, holding up the single red rose he'd picked out at the florist's with its little plastic tube of water and nutrients snug on the cut end.

"For you," he says, lightly, casually, presenting it with a showman's flourish.

"For me?" Dream sounds delighted, takes it delicately, but there is a little crease in his forehead that Hob can't quite interpret.

"Customer Appreciation Day at the shop," he says quickly, easily. "Handed 'em out to everyone who came in. But this little guy was left all alone when we closed up so I thought to myself, y'know, I'll just. Take it for Dream." He grins, his most charming, rakish grin. "So yes, for you. A small token of affection from your favorite bit of rough." He winks.

A little white lie and a little red rose. He's fucked if Dream ever comes to the shop and talks to Matthew and mentions this customer appreciation day Hob's just made up.

Odds are extremely low that would ever happen. But still.

Dream smiles, his mouth tilting up and his eyelashes sweeping down in that way that makes Hob's stomach swoop. "I thank you for thinking of me, Hob Gadling. It is indeed lovely." He touches Hob's arm briefly and continues on to the passenger side of the Porsche.

Hob follows suit, rounding the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel and adjusting the seat, flicking on the signal to pull back out into traffic. There's excitement fizzing in his blood at the message he's just sent, satisfaction at successfully flying it under Dream's radar.

He glances over at Dream as he drives, sees the soft smile on his lips as he buries his nose in the velvety red petals, and Hob's heart thumps happily in his chest.

= Started: 2/15/25 Drafted: 2/16/25 Posted: 2/17/25

Previously in the series, in case AO3 is down: Customer Service With Every Nerve Alive Loyalty Rewards Program Shift to Overdrive Love Machines in Harmony Without Warning Something's Dawning (Listen)

[doodleswithangie]

more from my au, in which stan and bill have a reluctant agreement to build the portal (x)

bonus thought: they always tie in their card games, because they both know when the other is cheating and when the other is letting them win

[Image description: Fanart of Bill Cipher and Stanley Pines from "Gravity Falls." Alt text is provided and copied below the cut. End ID]

Copied Alt Text

Image one: Stan wears his Mr. Mystery outfit in the Shack, complete with an eyepatch and magic 8-ball cane. Bill nudges him, saying, "Ooh, eyepatch? How flattering!" Stan snarks back, "Can it, cyclops."

Image two: Bill and Stan float in a mindscape similar to Ford's, except they're playing cards on folding chairs and drink Pitt Colas.

Image three: In front of the broken portal, Stan sits on a toolbox with Journal 1 and other documents scattered in front of him. Bill hovers over his shoulder.

End Copied Alt Text

[bagheerita]

So I read A Stitch in Time and one result of that which I was certainly not expecting was that I feel so much sympathy for Enabran Tain. Garak's life is a tragedy, but Tain's is a fucking black comedy.

I mean, he's a terrible person and an absolute shitbag, but can you imagine? You have this kid. You go to all the trouble of arranging for him to be raised in a family situation where he won't be rejected from society for being your bastard. You get him into the nicest indoctrination school where he can hobnob with plenty of uppercrust kids. You get him a job in your Order and all the proper training. And he's actually, like, really good at it. But he has this fatal flaw of being completely incapable of not making stupid, short-sighted, emotional decisions.

A scene I imagine has to have happened just prior to Garak and Tain's confrontation at the end of part II:

Like goddamn. When Tain asked "what's your plan for getting rid of her husband?" and Garak's just like "plan what plan." Dude. I'M disappointed, I can only imagine the guy who's job it is to know and plan for everything isn't at least as disappointed.

I know he didn't actually, but do you think there was ever a time when Tain wanted to be like, You know what. Just go back to Tolan and become a gardener. Join that illegal hippie cult. It's fine.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the writing prompts;

19. For luck - Rom and Leeta

"And then," Bashir was saying - though in truth, Rom was paying only half attention, far too busy thinking about Leeta - "she came right up to me, and kissed me on the lips!"

"Oh, she did, did she?" Chief O'Brien said, scoffing good-naturedly.

"It's true!" Bashir insisted, though he didn't look insulted by the Chief's doubt. He was smiling into his glass, seeming quite delighted by the disbelieving frown on O'Brien's face.

Rom didn't quite understand what was supposed to be so 'unbelievable' about the story. In fact - "It seems pretty believable to me," he said. "Doctor Bashir's always kissing beautiful women." (Including, at one point, Leeta - though not anymore, Rom thought with some pleasure.)

"Yes, but this one was out of his league," the Chief said, batting his hand playfully across the table.

Bashir just smiled bashfully, ignoring the swipe. "Ah, well. You're right about that. She wasn't really interested in me after all. Turns out, she'd just misconstrued the human concept of a 'good luck kiss'".

"Ohh! A 'good luck kiss'!" Rom said eagerly. Then, after a pause, "Uh, what's a 'good luck kiss'?"

The Chief sat back, idly crossing his arms. "Well, it's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It's a kiss that you give someone to wish them luck."

"Oh," Rom said, considering that. Luck was always a good thing to have. Perhaps... "Oh! Leeta!" He stood, sending his chair clattering backwards. "I'll be back!" he shouted, then raced from Quark's bar, ignoring his brother's parting shout out dismay.

He needed to find Leeta.

--

"Leeta! Waaaait!" Rom hollered, shuffling through the crowded promenade as quickly as he could manage, chasing after her familiar voice. "Leeta! I need to give you something!"

This would be easier, he thought, if Bajorans could hear as well as Ferengi could.

But, at last, Leeta stopped, turning to find him. "Rom? Rom, what's the matt-"

The rest of her sentence trailed off into a hum as Rom reached up, pulling her down to plant a kiss square on her lips. One of her hands cupped Rom's cheek, soft. Rom didn't really know how long a 'good luck kiss' was supposed to last for - he really should have gotten more details before running off (for example, does it need tongue? Bashir never specified.) - but he thought that this should satisfy it.

He pulled away, grinning toothily up at his wife. "Hi, Leeta," he said.

She smiled down at him, cheeks flushed and lovely as always. "Hi, Rom. What was that for?" she asked, looking bemused and delighted.

"It's a kiss," Rom said, perhaps unnecessarily. "For luck," he added. "It's a hoo-man tradition!"

"For luck? Rom," she asked, laughing, "what are you wishing me luck for?"

Rom blinked. "Uhhh... For your day?"

Leeta beamed at him, and then leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Well, I think it worked. I do feel pretty lucky now."

Rom grinned. "Me, too."

--

(also if anyone else wants to make a request, the ask game is here. i can't promise they'll get done as quick or be as long as this one is, though!)

[acerikus]

Wrote a bunch for the start of the isa loops au yesterday, here's a segment from it. Accidentally turned into over 1k words of saapfrin suffering and it's gonna continue like this for a bit I think. This was just supposed to be a tiny section that set up the fic and hinted at what went different but it just keeps growing woops-

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(Picks up where Viper left off)

"You know you've got like a whole bucket of cactus paddles down there?"

Jak sauntered back into the throne room from the hidden door and tossed Damas a sealed bag of roasted crickets.

"I should hope it's a full bucket, considering I picked those this morning."

Damas pulled out one of the cooked insects, plucked off the legs, and popped the rest into his mouth.

"You don't eat the legs?"

Jak draped himself over the edge of the throne to snatch a handful of crickets from the bag.

"They get stuck in my teeth," Damas complained, "I save them for my birds."

Daxter snickered. "Even Pecker?"

"If Pecker doesn't like the food, he's free to fly back to Onin," replied the king with an almost mischievous look.

"Oye, you didn't mess with anything in the kitchens, did you? The head cook is...tetchy."

"She's a miserable old cuss and she threw a knife at me," Jak said indignantly.

"She throws knives at everyone. You're lucky it was only a knife."

Around another mouthful of crickets, Jak made an appalled expression. "What else does she throw?!"

Damas grimaced and rubbed his forehead as if remembering an old injury. "Whatever is closest. Pans. Porridge. Whole onions. Cactus paddles with the spines still on."

Daxter started to come closer, but glanced at the dead snake still decorating the dais and thought better of it. "Hey, Jak doesn't need to go to the kitchens to experience that! All he has to do is get distracted while on the Leaper again and he'll have a mouth full of prickly-pear!"

"That wasn't my fault!" Jak protested hotly.

Damas raised a brow. "Oh? I hadn't heard about this one."

Hoping to avoid retelling the story, Jak quickly changed the subject.

"Wait, can you actually eat cactus?" he demanded.

He moved to sit cross-legged directly in front of the throne, and began examining the viper's mouth to get an idea of how to harvest the fangs later. Absentmindedly, he reached a hand back behind him, and was too deep in focus mode to register that this wasn't Daxter or Keira he was non-verbally bumming snacks off of. Nonetheless, Damas made a goodnatured scoff and placed several more crickets in his hand.

"You can eat specific kinds of cactus," Damas clarified. By the emphasis he placed on "specific", it was fairly obvious he was anticipating Jak trying to eat random cacti in town.

"Only the ones with the paddles like you saw, understand?"

"Sure, sure." Jak brushed this off. "But what do you make with them, though?"

Damas inspected the bag of crickets and sealed it back up to ensure that they would have some snacks during the coming meetings. "You use them for just about anything you need a vegetable for, honestly. I tend to grill them with lemon. Some people boil them for salads. Sig's mother is known in the East Quarter for frying it in batter and selling it in little cups."

"Ooh! We still haven't met Sig's ma!" Daxter chirped. He grinned wickedly. "We should ask her about Sig's embarrassing baby stories."

"She has no shortage of them," Damas agreed.

Daxter glanced back at Jak, happily munching crickets, and shuddered.

"On a scale of one to "Jak eats things raw if he can't figure out how to cook them", how hard is it to cook?"

Jak looked insulted. Damas snorted.

"After the afternoon appointments, I'll teach you one of the simpler methods. You won't need much- Jak, don't touch the fangs. We still need the evidence intact."

"I was just looking!" Jak defended.

"With your hands?"

With a gusty sigh, the teenager scooted back to the right of Damas’s seat. He looked a little cross, but it faded soon enough.

"What appointments do you have, anyway?"

Damas stood up to stretch. Precursors knew he wouldn't get a chance in the next few hours.

"Third bell after noon through fifth bell is reserved for Arbitration Court," he said. "Which is why I do not usually call you during those hours. My job as king is to uphold the safety of my people, ensure the continued functioning of the Beacon and the water filtration system, mediate disputes not serious enough for the Arena, and enforce laws agreed upon by myself and my council."

Jak made a face. "That sounds like a lot of being stuck inside."

Dryly, Damas asked, "Why do you think I planted an entire grove of date palms in here? I would have died of boredom years ago if I did not."

He turned to fix both boys with a stern look.

"Out of respect for your fellow Spargans, try not to fidget during Arbitration Court unless you notice something suspicious. After five is a monthly meeting with the northern clifftop farmers to discuss rent payments."

"You rent farmland?"

"They rent from me," corrected Damas. "I didn't clear boulders until my hands bled just to abandon my land when I became king."

Jak blinked. "Fair enough. Man, we should've charged Sandover rent, Dax."

"Pal, they thought we owed them compensation for being allowed to sleep on their porches and eat a bare minimum of their food," Daxter pointed out sourly.

He caught a troubled frown on Damas’s face after the statement.

"Hm. I would like your attention to be on the visitors most during the rent meeting and the council meeting after evening meal. If anyone has a problem with me, specifically, that's likely where they'll turn up."

Jak eyed the snake again. "And if they blow their cover, I get to take 'em out, right?"

"No." Damas narrowed his eyes and pointed at Jak as he sat down again. "I need to determine how far the plot goes. No killing the assassin or accomplices."

"What about after?" Jak pressed.

"I'm the aggrieved party, I'm the one who deals with them," Damas said in mild reproof.

Jak folded his arms. "I dunno, we're feeling pretty aggrieved, right Daxter?"

"Positively outraged," Daxter added, sounding more bored than offended. "More Jak than me, but he's the sensitive type. You know him."

"Yes," Damas said, shaking his head with a small smile, "Yes I do. The answer is still "no", Jak."

Jak huffed and settled more comfortably against the throne. "You never let me do anything fun," he joked.

"I don't, I really don't." Damas reached over to prod the back of Jak's head affectionately.

"I'm a horrible, mean, adult who only lets you risk life and limb four days out of the week instead of every three hours."

"The folks in Haven would think that was the worst kind of tyranny, not being able to make us do all their work for them," Daxter scoffed.

The lift began to rattle, and Damas cleared his throat.

"Well, back to work. Eyes open, my boys. Let us see if we can't catch a would-be assassin. Jak, don't touch the fangs."

"I wasn't!" Jak protested.

Neither of his companions looked convinced.

[maulfucker]

This song is making me want to start yet another fic to never finish,, "Tell me... Where is your hideout? Who are we running from? I'm starting to think that you were right, and now I'm afraid of letting go of your hand...." Maul giving up on his Mandalore plan and deciding to just stalk Kenobi to tell him about his vision. Staying illegally in Obi-Wan's room because I love putting these guys in situations (and because Maul would NOT leave him alone until Obi-Wan actually accepted Maul is right, which he won't). Following Obi-Wan to Utapau and helping him escape after the clones attack, feeling equal parts vindicated and enraged (because he was proved right but Sidious still won). Them being on the run together....

[quickfixinator]

seeing various people's interpretations of fem!ford pines makes me feel so much better about myself. you don't just completely change because you're a man or because you're a woman. that's so cool. yeah she'd still wear those silly green shorts. in all possibilities of ford pines, the shorts are a constant.

[sometimes-sleeby-octopus]

I’m crazy but hear me out (and ignore the mid colors/shit lighting): Matcha Shadow and Boba Sonic

DO YOU SEE MY VISION. DO YOU SEE IT.

And because I’m a shipper: Sonadow. See doodle below.

And to make things even batshit crazier (because my brain got fucking IDEAS) they would be in a n alternate universe and their personalities would be altered to the drink they represent (Sonic would be extra sweet and peppy, Shadow would be very calm; No trauma because just wait, I’m getting there). And they would be weirdly connected to the sonic and shadow we know. Like Matcha Shadow would randomly get these memories/dreams of Maria (who doesn’t exist in his world) and “canon” Shadow’s trauma and then “canon” Sonic would randomly feel the love dovey feelings Boba Sonic has when he’s with Matcha Shadow. And it would be a whole thing that would make “canon” Sonic and Shadow get together and cause a hurt/comfort scenario for Matcha and Boba so that they get closer even though they’re already together. And they never know or are truly aware of each other but they’re grateful for the connection??? Idk man I might have a niche fic idea on my hands. Who knows tho college is hard and I am crazy and eepy.

TDLR: Matcha themed Shadow and Boba themed Sonic, I made up a possible alternate universe fic idea related to them that I ramble about above, I am insane and a sonadow shipper so Matcha and Boba would be together

[randommirandyfics]

There was this fic I read awhile back where I think Miranda owns a retreat and invites Andy to stay there, where feelings start happening. The twins show up a little later, I think. If I remember correctly, there's a spicy/romantic scene in the kitchen. Not that I think about it, there's a plot point where Andy's secretly a well-known artist and Miranda has a piece Andy painted hanging in the house without knowing it. Haven't actively read these two in ages, but having the urge to read a little Mirandy, and not sure that I ever finished reading that one. Any ideas? Either way, thanks for running this tumblr! It's been a great resource, and one of the reason I started thinking of Mirandy again :)

(・・?)

[femslashspuffy]

Pov you open up the shipwars tumblr poll of some new gay ship vs someone else:

Normal ship, long runner, for fun fans: haha yeah we're so much better I love this ship this ship is so good this ship for the win yeah kill them guys this ship SWEEP

New gay ship everyone thinks is so enlightened fans: I can't believe people aren't voting for stock ship don't they know they literally kissed on screen. Sorry your ship didn't kiss but this was just introduced and the actors have the bare minimum of chemistry. Also it's so mean for you guys to make fun of our ship like you're all being homophobic right now* I can't believe you all hate gay people.

*both ships are gay

[windor-truffle]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE WORD "ASBEL" SHOWS UP IN MY OUTLINE DOC 1,840 TIMES?????????

[tyrannuspitch]

thanos could be such a good character if he was a good character...

[honeyedwordsandblades]

"Who are you?"

Raised on heroic stories of old, Rosenna has long since dreamed of such a life. But, now, inadvertently thrust into a great, perilous adventure of her own, both her will and convictions will be tested unlike never before.

"A year ago I ran away from home, straight to Baldur's Gate. If there were any a place a heroic adventurer could find their start, it'd be there. I know my parents must miss me dearly. And, oh, how I miss them, as well as the little hamlet I used to call home. But I cannot just sit idly by doing nothing as people all around me, all around Faerûn suffer and cry out for help. It's been quite some time since there's been a proper Hero to do as such. If Tymora wills it, perhaps there can be one more."

Picrew Credit: ElenaA's Windswept Oc Maker by @elena-illustration

[transiconwilfred]

im having more thoughts about that tmnt sweet toot au. i think Splinter (still Hamato Yoshi) and his wife were on an ill-timed trip to New York when the sick broke out, and they ended up sort of stranded because in an effort to contain the sick, no one was allowed in or out of the country. Tang Shen unfortunately caught it, and after her death, Splinter kinda just gave up on life and went to live in a cabin in the woods while quietly hoping the sick would claim him too. hes been out there alone for a while when he finds the turtles and they restore his will to live :)

[paganinpurple]

AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.