#i've been doing that a lot

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

Murder's Breach

The jet black corvid swept down from his nest, eyes peeled and ears ready. He wouldn’t go hungry tonight; all he had to do was go back to the other side of the forest, stay out of site. Sit. Wait. Wait. Pray that the guns would fire and their men would flee. But the prayers were always answered. The other demons that lurked in this place scare them away, just as easily as he could if he were a little bigger, stronger.

But his size didn’t matter. It never had, not when the boxes rolled and the guns were always loaded. Boots crunched on grass; soldiers gazed around his land for their next meal. He couldn’t leave his hideaway now. But he couldn’t get far, couldn’t flee as fast as the other creatures that took up residence here. So maybe he should, should just lay himself down and close his eyes. They would make it quick. Didn’t they always? It was the only gift their bullets brought, the only luxury any of his kind got from all this.

There was a time when his kind littered the forest floor, men too caught up in games and pride to realize that the world was being torn apart by their hand. But he didn’t want to think about that, only wanted to dream of fluttering down to them and ripping their flesh all the way off, leaving them to scream and bleed on the earthen floor until their lives were ripped away from them, too, until they took that last shaking breath.

He couldn’t do that, didn’t really want to. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but maybe some of the humans deserved it. Maybe they should be punished for their ignorance, their little bit of fun that just so happened to be ruining the order of things, whether they cared to read into it or not. They never would. That wasn’t how the behaved; he’d watched enough of them, been hunted by enough of them, to know that.

And the pain plagued him every second of his miserable existence, but that wasn’t something he liked to dwell on, wasn’t something he had the luxury to try to heal from. Revenge would come. He would be fine at the end of the day. Wouldn’t he? He still waited for the men to cock their guns, to raise the barrels towards the sky just praying that he would swoop into their trap. He waited for them to fire. Maybe he should stop hoping he’d wake up in the morning. Maybe that would make all of this easier.

The sounds of his enemies filled his ears, making his tiny heart pound. Click, click, click. Thunder. Danger. Go. Go. Fly. Survive. A gun cocked below. What bullets would spring out this time, setting the barrel on fire as it reached to strike him?

Something snapped. What was it? Sticks. Feet. Metal filled his nose. Bullets. Guns. Danger. No. How could they be here? He’d worked so hard, flown thousands of miles just to be sure he would lose them. But that red feather in the hunter’s hat never failed to get his blood pumping, heart racing. How could it, when it was the source of all his fear, his pain? It seemed there was no escaping his enemies, not when they could find him in a split second. They tracked him, knew where he would be. They always knew. They would always know.

The raven dared to open his beak, sending a warning call to the heavens as he took to the sky, hoping he wouldn’t reach them. It was less than a beat later that darkness came to the sky and his peers did their best to join him. But they would fail. All the others did. Who could tell him this time would be any different?

Bullets. Too many bullets. His body caught fire… but there were no flames. His cry sounded like a choking baby. Pathetic, but all he could manage. How could he let this happen? How could he break, let them make him so weak, useless?

It was over. He was falling, but the strikes kept coming. One shot, two shots, three shots, four. He didn’t submit to this, didn’t want to leave his life in their hands. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t time-wasn’t time- wasn’t time. He had work to do. He couldn’t fall, couldn’t take one last cry as his body careened towards the earth, but his body hit the ground.

His gasps couldn’t save him. It was bright. He shook, wings flapping but he couldn’t get up. He had no strength left. All of the heat left his body. He was so cold, and he knew what it meant, though he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to make this mean that he let them take him, too.

But they had. And as he took his last breath, he stared up into brown eyes. He watched two fists swipe him up as his blood coated their hands.

[laughingcatwrites]

As a reminder that good exists out there, a coworker recently confessed to me that he found out his child is questioning their identity (kid's gender redacted for this post). The kid is keeping it from him, so he can't say anything to them or show that he knows, but he's doing his best to get mentally prepared and educated so that he'll be ready whenever his kid does feel comfortable enough come to him.

For context, this guy is a big, bulky middle aged dude who loves sports and typical outdoor "manly" activities. As his coworker and friend, I know he's a kind and sweet teddy bear of a person, but his kid probably views him as a stern, authoritarian figure, the way most teenagers view their parents. His family lives in a conservative area, so I'm sure between that, their dad's looks and interests, and the fact that their dad is a Figure of Authority, the kid is worried that they won't be accepted.

But you know what? When he found out about his kid, the first thing he did was reach out to his closest queer friend and ask for resources for parents of questioning children. His biggest fears are that his kid will be bullied or discriminated against and won't feel comfortable enough to be themself. His second action was to find himself a mentor in another parent who went the same situation (kid coming out in a conservative town). The other person is preparing him for some of the struggles his kid may face and the fights he may need to take on as a parent to make sure his kid is safe and treated well.

Something I want to emphasize for people focused on language as the primary method of allyship is that when we spoke, he used some outdated terms and thoughts about gender and sexuality. That does not make him bad. These were the terms and thinking used about questioning teenagers when he was growing up and he never needed to learn more current ones. But now that he does have that need, he's throwing himself in head first because that's his kid and he's darn well going to make sure that his kid feels welcomed and has a safe place to be themselves even if they never come out to him.

[hansoeii]

crowley

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

Arw you really the author John Green? The same person who wrote The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska?

Yes, but I published one of those books 19 (?!?!?!) years ago and the other 12 (!?!?!?!?) years ago. What have I been up to since then?

My brother Hank and I started Good.store, which delivers high-quality socks, coffee, and soap to your home and donates 100% of its profit to charity. Through good store, we've raised over $7,500,000 to support efforts to radically reduce maternal mortality in Sierra Leone, where as recently as 2019, one in seventeen women could expect to die in pregnancy or childbirth.

(In fact, technically I am here on tumblr as an unpaid intern for the awesome coffee club, which you should really sign up for if you like ethically sourced coffee that tastes delicious and doesn't enrich billionaires.)

I wrote the novel Turtles All the Way Down and then had a little existential crisis and wrote a nonfiction book called The Anthropocene Reviewed, the latter of which is my first book for adults and my first attempt to write as myself.

I helped produce made a movie adaptation (streaming now on Max!) of Turtles all the Way Down.

I helped raise my kids and supported my spouse as she wrote her book You Are An Artist and created a PBS show about art called The Art Assignment.

I ran the educational media company Complexly and the merch company dftba.com while my brother had cancer.

I bought around 2% of a fourth-tier English football team called AFC Wimbledon. Wimbledon are different from most football clubs because they are owned by their fans, each of whom gets one vote in the club's leadership regardless of how much money they put into the club.

I became obsessed with tuberculosis, the world's deadliest infectious disease (it will kill over a million people this year despite being curable), and how TB both exemplifies and reinforces human-built structures of injustice, which is the subject of a book I'm writing that will come out next year.

[stellarspecter]

@pscentral event 20: antagonists ↳ THE LORDS IN BLACK in NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE

[allysketches]

organizing my art folder I found this one drawing sitting there for months bc I didn't like how it turned out and meant to come back to it later but never did lol

but on second thought I guess it looks fine so I might as well post it now 😅

also I've been pretty much MIA these past few months bc life (good and bad) and tbh it was nice, so I'll mostly stay that way, I think... pop back now and then, whenever I finish more drawings lol

[inkskinned]

actually sometimes being neurodivergent is great bc you have a particular kind of Silly Mode that just . manifests glory. harmless fun is my precious side quest & i have a high score in whimsy. like okay if i gotta be the first dork in the dance pit it's gonna be me and this random toddler and we're gonna avril-style rock ouuuuttt

[hinamie]

bunch of portraits

[cosmicwhoreo]

Call me Britney Spears cuz, Oops I did it again.

Unlike WP, I'm not too sure if I'll incorporate this little edit into how I always draw BP... But it's a fun little practice.

[undertalethingems]

Unexpected Guests Chapter Ten, Act Two: Page 19

First / Previous / Next

Toriel is out of the battle for now... but we all know Undyne won't go down without a really tough fight.

Look for the next update on Aug. 8th!

[kmesons]

"AREN'T YOU GOING TO TIP ME? (GET YOUR CUP OF COFFEE) LOOK AT THE FUN WE'RE HAVING ALREADY!"

[skellagirl]

played DA2 for the first time and romanced the possessed bisexual poor little meow meow who's totally down for firebombing a walmart

[lazylittledragon]

i refuse to believe that boycotting is hard. my favourite thing in the world is ordering maccies after a late night at work/a concert/getting drunk. yes i do miss it sometimes. but the other night i ordered from a small place near my house instead and it was the most orgasmic burger i've ever had in my life. i very rarely say this but fucking suck it up people are DEAD

[egophiliac]

hiii im sure you’ve answered this before but in regards to your twst x Pokémon, how do you choose which Pokémon go give to the cast?? really curious since your choices are unique :O

unique in a good way, I hope? 😅 (jk jk I haven't come across too many pokemon AUs, so I was going in without preconceptions, I guess!) I was sorta aiming somewhere between doing, like, a full AU with internal consistency and everything, and just picking entirely based on theme/character, so maybe that's why! basically I just set some arbitrary rules (no legendaries/no repeats/evo stages based on year) and then went on ~vibes~. a couple were also suggestions (thank you guys!) and last-minute decisions, so it was a bit of a delightful mess of ideas!

my one regret is that I should have given Riddle a Togedemaru after all. ...you know what, he can have one now, why not

[zephyrchama]

You're in your room in the House of Lamentation, held down by the Avatar of Lust. He's got you secured in place just the way he wants you - back against the bed, face up towards the ceiling, eyes closed for the moment. He sits on your stomach with a brush in hand. Two heavy pouches are on your chest containing everything from basic moisturizer to specialized lip oils in a rainbow of colors.

"Just going to blend this a bit here," Asmodeus murmurs to himself. He adds another layer of eye shadow while returning to his story, recounting the time he watched a Little D try to rob a pastry shop. Absolutely hilarious, it was like a comedy sketch. You feel the gentle yet purposeful dab of the brush tugging at your skin and wonder if Asmodeus can see you blushing under the foundation he applied.

Every couple of minutes, he rakes his nails over your head as if moving hair aside. Powder is sprinkled on your face, making your nose tickle. You twitch and sniffle.

"Ah-ah! Patience!" he chides. The weight on your stomach shifts and the offending dust is blown off by a warm gust of Asmodeus' breath. It smells like berries. The sensation lingers on your mind more than the setting powder.

"Just leave everything to me. Your eyes are done now, so... Part your lips a little?"

His thumb is already on your lower lip, the rest of his fingers cupping your chin. You hear the clinking of glass as he roots around for something in the makeup bag. His pinky finger taps against your neck to the unmistakable rhythm of his favorite song. "That's my dear. Juuust like that."

His story now done, Asmodeus moves on to talking about his plans for the rest of the week. He's expecting a package from a new brand deal that's already been delayed twice and the company refuses to apologize. "Can you believe that?"

Your lips are wet and sticky from a fresh coat of... something artificially sweet. You don't respond, but his question was rhetorical anyway. On a whim, you flutter your eyes open. Asmodeus is leaning over you like a master craftsman lost in the trance of work. He's so close that the ceiling is totally obscured and you can almost make out your reflection in his pupils. It takes until he finishes swabbing something on your philtrum to notice that you're focused his way.

The instant he meets your gaze is obvious. He cracks a stunning smile, his face softens. He sets his tools aside, lining them up next to you. You feel his legs tighten around your ribs and he chokes back a giggle.

"Aah! I can't take this. You're so kissable, but that'd ruin all the work I just did! You're a sinful human, you know that?"

Asmodeus seems to be mulling over something in his head, but the way you smirk in response sends him over the edge. His lips are meeting yours. His palm hoists up the back of your head so he can make more skin contact without smearing your cheeks. The bags in his way prevent him from going overboard, but there's pressure on your chest as he pushes down to see just how far he can go.

With a final "mmph," he pulls away so you can breathe again, taking pleasure in the way your body moves to gasp down air. You wonder exactly what he's painting on your face, as his lips are a bright pink reminiscent of his sin color.

"There! Now we match."