#idk what this is but it's here

[jaceberg]

closed starter : @thegillyxliang location : the beach.

He had barely set down his small bucket of boardwalk fries for what felt like five seconds, just enough time to remove his white cotton tee. Unbeknownst to him, five seconds proved to be all the time the local seagulls needed to snatch not only his fries but their container as well. "You've got to be kidding me," he practically exclaims, catching just a glimpse of the bird flying off with what he now realized was an empty paper bucket that had recently held a dozen or more fries. "Did you see that?" he says to an onlooker, "that bird just fucking robbed me!"

[voreasaurusrex]

Moth and The Flame

The night was quiet. The only sounds to be heard were that of a soft, crackling flame, and distant critters of the night. But they, too, were eventually drowned in the silence. Oleander’s eyes flickered down to the flame before them, watching as it flickered and danced in its containment.

Light danced as waves and rings in the moth’s eyes. Such a small flame would only want to grow, to burn a path, to set itself free. Yet, here it was. Trapped. Stuck. Only to remain in its small glass house. Only getting a taste of freedom when the door was open, just before it was snuffed out. Their wings flickered, opening and closing a couple times. The fire sputtered as they sighed. The sound heaved from their chest, heavy, and tired.

They slowly blinked as they turned to glance behind them. Their wings parted, spreading once more so they could look at them. It was hard to see in the dying light of a candle, but it was impossible to miss the way it shimmered over and poked through the rips in their wings. A faint shadow on the wall only confirmed the silhouette, shredded, and tattered. Tears burned their eyes, and they snapped the appendages shut.

They stared at the the flame once more. With how intense their stare was, one would think that it alone could have stoked the tiny fire once more. But, behind its glass, it remained untouched. Still trapped. And now, slowly dying. They really were one in the same, weren’t they?

Something in their expression shifted.

Oleander’s hand reached for the door on the glass, yanking it open.

Their eyes were wide as they watched the flame rejuvenate, and grow, filling the container as the fresh air breathed its soul back into it. The moth straightened out as the fire grew. They inhaled, filling their lungs for the first time in what felt like hours. Fire, contained or not, was scarily resilient. There were reasons to why so many warnings existed around it. Trapped flames only remained stuck for so long. Either they died, or they broke free.

Oleander looked up, eyes snapping to the moonlit world outside. Perhaps they weren’t so different from that flame, after all.

They only needed the right gust of wind to show up.

[scoupsahoy]

16. someone's pulling a gun and you're jumping in the middle of it. - for the richard silken ask game 👀

okay im going insane because this line is so steve coded, but so is the entire poem? like it's about the gun line but have y'all heard "you play along / because you want to die for love / you always have" ????

like i'm not writing that right this second because i think it might make me collapse on the spot and im literally moving tomorrow. but like. i'm just saying i could make this whole poem about steve sacrificing himself for robin etc etc

ANYWAY

Imagine this:

Eddie Munson was once a little kid, too big for his body, too loud for his mom, too impulsive for his own good. He'd draw a moat in the sandbox and declare himself king, he'd introduce himself to strangers at the park, he'd put himself in harms way enough that his father told him one day it'd get him killed.

And, well. It could have. Except.

Imagine this:

Eddie was ten years old standing with his feet on the hot rubber of the playground swing, no thought to the passage of time, no attention paid to the way some parents would stare at him at their benches, wondering who raised him and where they were.

Most of the kids didn't get to close, wouldn't, but one wanted to swing. He watched the kid swing higher and higher, watched him squint when Eddie dared him to jump.

It took a second, but he did.

Imagine this:

Eddie was thirteen when he started stealing cigarettes from the corner store, thoughtless. His dad had stolen so many things and none of them were for him, figured it was time he'd have something of his own. It wasn't even a decision he made.

He hardly makes decisions, really. Too much going on in his head these days. It's all so fast. Urgent. Stuck in survival mode.

Imagine this:

Steve Harrington, a kid Eddie met years ago at the playground, a real king, pulled some ogre off him. And Eddie's eye was bleeding but he watched Steve hesitate before pushing the other kid away. And he was angry. Eddie's never seen him this angry.

In the moment of hesitation, Eddie wondered if Steve was going to punch the guy's lights out. He didn't. Of course he didn't. He didn't even help Eddie off the ground.

Imagine this:

A nervous girl who's fun to talk to floated to his ceiling and crumpled like a piece of paper.

Eddie didn't know how to do anything but run.

He didn't know not to run and then hide, protect himself at all costs, hold a broken bottle against a neck he can't even see. He was scared, he was wrong, they asked him to wait. He waited. They asked him to hold back. He held back.

The sky opened up. The bats swooped down. He ran.

He held back. Waited, before jumping or punching or running.

There was a second where he second-guessed himself, a VHS tape stalled in the player. It nearly killed him.

Dustin tells him later, when he's barely awake but somehow alive, that Steve didn't hesitate. There wasn't a second of contemplation.

Steve tells him later: of course there wasn't.

Eddie wants to kiss him, almost does. He watches Steve's face, his eyes, if he'll hesitate. He doesn't.

It's amazing and terrifying all at once, that Steve doesn't think before he moves. Eddie worries: he'll put himself in harms way and get himself killed.

He'll do it without thinking, for Eddie. Jumping in front of the gun. Taking a piece of Eddie and destroying it.

Eddie will wait.

[bartex-x]

so theres this trend on twitter of people showing their favourite media tropes and i just wanted to show you mine :)

[despazito]

Adult website and period tracker

[jabberwick]

Human Bill Cipher

(Based on Alex Hirsch's "canon" design)

And just to be clear, writing dissertations at me justifying why he should instead be a conventionally attractive twink will involuntarily cause me to draw him with even fewer teeth.

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[elysian-edu]

rich husbands who make their whole life about taking care of you.

oh, that necklace you glanced at while at the mall? now you're there trying several other ones on because "they all look perfect on you."

the dress you looked at through that shop window? bought. plus anything else you even remotely wanted.

that snack you crave almost all the time? he almost buys the whole business for you just to have them as often as you'd like. (in moderation of course!)

rich husbands who don't understand why you want to work, and every time you tell them why they simply say:

"i can provide more than enough for the both of us, but go ahead."

rich husbands the second they see you all stressed and tired from that job, call in and quit for you.

and when you try to get up the next morning to go to said job, he ushers you back to bed, lays you down and tells you to "not worry about that pesky job again."

rich husbands who like to make it known to everyone that you're married to him.

buys you the biggest rock you've ever seen adorned on your finger to propose to you, and makes it his routine to see if you have his ring on. (which you always do.)

indirectly flaunts it to passersby's by holding your hand, occasionally picking your hand up to inspect it, and trying not to crack a smile as he hears women gasp, and whisper, "she's one lucky woman."

rich husbands who tell everyone they know about you, whether that be coworkers, family, or random people, he'll always somehow flip the conversation to being about you.

"oh that? my wife is quite fond of it, yes."

"that reminds me of my wife, she quite likes those things. often calling them "cute.""

rich husbands <33

[modmad]

I love terrible comic day can we make this an international holiday

[bean-spring]

Hot take and not to be a killjoy or the shipping police but people treating Viktor or Jinx's aroace headcanons as if they were canon is not the revolutionary take people think it is.

Headcanons are always all right but we have to acknowledge that they are somehow damaging when they apply to stereotypes. It might not be the case for everyone but most of the time people unconsciously assume that disability/mental illness=asexuality. These headcanons erase the freedom of attraction from people who are already seen as unable to have sexual/romantic experiences/desires, when it's completely untrue and harmful.

You can headcanon Viktor and Jinx as aroace, but I have seen people changing their minds once Viktor is no longer disabled (s2 with all of his other forms) and Jinx is no longer as mentally ill (alternate universe Powder). And it speaks wonders of how people see these characters.

"I never thought about Jinx being able to feel romantic/sexual attraction until s2!" To believe she's actually only capable of that when she's not "damaged" is incredibly disturbing. Especially since Jinx has always had a bit of a flirty personality too.

"I've always seen Viktor as asexual, I don't know why!" That's fine. You can headcanon him as ace. But I believe there is a reason behind it, most of the time, if for some inexplicable reason the "vibes" of the disabled character are making you think he's ace.

I say all of this being aroaspec myself, by the way. Headcanon all you want but going to people's posts commenting how "it's weird for you that they have romantic/sexual plots when they're clearly aroace" is not a win at all. It's a headcanon, after all, and it should be treated as such, and that's fine. But it also is damaging to spread stereotypes like these.

Of course the disabled character is asexual. Of course the mentally ill character is aromantic. It's not as revolutionary as you might think, tbh.

Fandom is not activism and it's all right to have any headcanons you want BUT some of them are filled with damaging stuff and perhaps we should look into ourselves more before treating these assumptions as something canon.

[electoons]

oh m-...ahhh...my pockages

[artiificiial]

happy national cat day :3

[joshuamj]

Okay, but what if EoW!Zelda had to impersonate Link

[randomfandomss]