#in the normalest way possible

[girltrickyuri]

i would let her preform medical malpractice on me

[brothersonahotelbed]

gives you a little hug. maybe a big one. nothing going on in particular i just wanted to hug you. this might get a little tired but we're tying a little string over our joined stigmata wounds ❤️❤️

hi sorry im normal . hugging you so hard that a part of myself is imprinted on you adn you cant wash it off i love you so much our stigmata hands are holding each other's tightly <3333

[kosmicdream]

my comics dont have a big fandom or anything, which has its pros and cons! (the cons are that i dont have as much money and i am attention starved at ALL times) but sometimes i try to imagine what discourse would happen if it did.. like obviously theres still discourse that still happens!! but it doesn't really develop/last the same way.. i dont think id handle big fandom discourse well, so its probably a good thing it isnt like that. but also i love drama and watching people fight abt my characters would probably be a bit entertaining. like the evil grinch aspect of me wants to see fandom wars.. although i guess its still very hard to imagine FFAK/NRD ever getting like "Big" you know. is that kind of thing still possible for webcomics?? i mean.. i guess??? im sure it happens? i dont know, im just thinkin' out loud. NRD is over 1000 pages long now, and soon NRD/FFAK combined will have over 10k pages. i have technically drawn over 10k pages if you add up ALL my comics.. but like just those two alone will have that many.. and what have i learned as a storyteller? at least one or two things i guess. i cannot be good at all the types of storytelling, but i can create psychosexual slapstick comedy horror dramas that make it difficult to recommend to your friends

[fappellmoan]

i’m sorry i get so obnoxious about this but it’s really still so jarring to hear people Everywhere casually referring to chappell roan. i literally feel like… who are you… idk like get out. i have literally left a room before bc i got fed up listening to someone’s thoughts on her. lowkey. i get so defensive over that bitch it’s not even funny and it’s not an agree to disagree with the way that she skyrocketed it’s a You can shut your mouth and keep it to yourself. even if people are speaking Nicely about her i feel like im sitting with my arms crossed straight faced ready to judge if you can pass go or not. im 5’3 btw

[serpulalacrymans]

no need anymore ! i already came when you called me dumb <3

thanks for the free nutt daddyking !

I'm just that good! I'm just that good!!

..You're really just goin', huh?

Okay.

Good riddance, anyway. Bitch.

[major-fukkup]

Astarion will literally drink your blood until you die if you let him lmaoooo

[stupidphototricks]

(Sorry I disappeared for a while, life happened. Well, in this case work happened, which you know, not at all the same thing. Anyway.)

The next Discworld book in my random selection was The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents.

But people were people, even if they had four legs and had called themselves names like Dangerous Beans, which is the kind of name you gave yourself if you learned to read before you understood what all the words actually meant, and reading the warning notices and the labels on the old rusty cans gave you names you liked the sound of. -- Terry Pratchett, The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

I love this concept, reminds me of Ford Prefect choosing his name with only a confused understanding of Earth, or Ramona Quimby naming her doll Chevrolet just because she liked the sound of it. I think this is very nearly all of the rat names in the book, I tried to keep track but I may have missed one or two:

Dangerous Beans Darktan Peaches Bitesize Feedsfour Hamnpork Donut Enter Sardines Inbrine Bestbefore Farmhouse Nourishing Specialoffer Big Savings Delicious  Kidney  Fresh Tomato Toxie Additives Sellby

The thing is, this is a really interesting list. If I were making a list of names that someone might choose with if they didn't know anything but words on cans, I would probably slide more or less unconsciously into a theme. "Corn, Tuna In Oil, Artichoke Hearts, Beef Broth" or "Healthy Choice, Gluten Free, Original Flavor." But this list is just... anything. Everything. Way more creative.

Sometimes the name has the original spacing, sometimes not. Sometimes it's the biggest word on the label, and sometimes it's in the fine print. At least one of the names (Dangerous Beans) comes from (presumably) two entirely different sources. Why not? Different people (rats) would absolutely choose their names differently.

And it's kind of fascinating how well these randomish names seem to fit the characters and personalities. Could Sardines really be anything but a tap-dancing rat with a hat?

So there's a punchline of sorts. After all of these rats whose names are very important to them, then there's the (human) kid, whose name we don't even find out until chapter 4.

“You never said you had a name!” said Maurice. “No one ever asked before,” said the kid. “Keith is not a promising name start,” said Malicia. “It doesn’t hint of mystery. It just hints of Keith. Are you sure it’s your real name?” “It’s just the one they gave me.” -- Terry Pratchett, The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

Possibly the normalest name in all of Discworld, Keith. Hardly worth mentioning. (No offense to any Keiths out there, I quite like the name, but you have to admit it's no Moist Von Lipwig.)

[ro-sham-no]

Motel Parking Lot Reverie

Sam had never been down this way before, but the sleepless nights were piling up, lately, and since Jess had moved in, pacing through his apartment late at night was out, so: Late-night walks to new areas of town.

Or,

While at Stanford, Sam finds Dean asleep in a motel parking lot.

cw: minor blood mention, gencest (in the most gen sense of the term)

Sam had never been down this way before, but the sleepless nights were piling up, lately, and since Jess had moved in, pacing through his apartment late at night was out, so: Late-night walks to new areas of town.

He’d made it a point, back when he’d first gotten to school, to not look at the yellow pages. Stanford was his ticket to safety, and being normal was a crucial part of that scheme, which meant not knowing exactly where his family would turn up- would have. Would have turned up, if he weren’t living this fever dream life where every waking moment was tainted with the un-ignorable flavor of losing the only home Sam’d ever had.

Anyway, normal: Sam was The Normalest Guy Ever™ and that meant avoiding looking at the first page of motels listed in the phonebook, alright? Don’t worry about it. But now, turns out he didn’t need that listing, after all. The proof, the undeniable, shining black, chrome-accented proof, was glaring him in the face. 

Just casually on a stroll, but setting a brisk pace, because even though he’s a big guy, walking with confidence doesn’t hurt your chances of not getting mugged. Then, cue record scratch, cue “I bet you’re wondering how I got here” monologue, cue the what the fuck, is that really– yep, it must be– what the fuck cliche of it all, all while standing twenty feet away, having just turned the street corner. Sam would recognize that car anywhere, as soon as she came into view, naturally. And to think he came down this side street randomly, to think it was all by accident. What the fuck.

An uncomfortable, gnawing thought containing the words fate and in the end, it all comes back to this flitted through his mind, but he swiftly ignored it; there were more relevant problems at hand. Such as, if Dean had a motel room, why was he passed out in the Impala? And, what would happen if I used the spare key I kinda-sorta stole to unlock the door right now?

Wait, what?

No, no, no- absolutely not, there was no way Sam would get any closer than the current fifty feet of space he had put between him and Dean the car. After getting fifteen feet too close on instinct, hence seeing Dean lying across the seat, Sam wasn’t taking any chances and had moved much farther back.

And yet, when Sam looked down, his feet had moved three feet forward. A single, halting stride. He looked at the car, then back down at his feet, and- there! It happened again!

Clearly, his shoes were possessed and he needed to tear them off his feet and burn them, as quickly as possible. Fuck- he got distracted (damn those shoes!) and fifty feet had reduced to thirty. Shit. Twenty feet, now. Two. Sam gripped the nearby lamppost, unlit, for support. In resisting, for support in resisting, the- uh, the possessed shoes! Obviously. Not because the unobstructed view of Dean’s face for the first time in nearly four years made him weak in the knees, and in the heart. Definitely not.

His fingers burned. The key in his pocket, never taken off of his had-since-high-school key chain, burned. His lungs burned. Since when did his breath get so fast? And was it just him, or was the brisk night air suddenly sweltering? What is happening? Maybe these shoes really are possessed—

The thought process went like this: Cursed object. Heart attack. Hex bags. Collapsed lung. Blood loss. Hemorrhaging, hemorrhaging. Blood loss.

Dean— right in front of him, Dean, two feet away, right fucking there— was suddenly covered in blood. Sam’s responding lurch snapped him out of it; he looked again, and the blood was gone.

The silence, loud and quiet as the ocean and Sam’s own tinnitus, rolled and crashed against his ear. Not dying, no— scared. 

A barked, wooden laugh garbled in his throat as he tried to stifle it. Scared.

The door handle of the Impala gleamed menacingly (menacingly!) in the glare of the half-moon, and Sam gulped non-existent spit down his suddenly dry and aching throat. Yep. Scared.

Hilarious. Real fuckin’ funny. More than a lifetime’s worth of death and danger and fighting for his life and fighting for his brother’s and father’s lives, and he’s scared of a goddamn door. 

Sam’s free hand flitted up to touch the car — when had he dug out his keys? — but it stopped two inches from the black paint. He took his hand back, conscious of it now, and put the keys back in his pocket, careful not to jingle them, a surefire way to wake Dean up. Keys secured, Sam reached back out, bare-handed and trembling, and placed his splayed hand gingerly against Baby’s side, like a gentling touch to a horse’s flank, keeping it still. His hand was firm on the steel, since he was half-convinced the awful door would spring open at any moment, exerting his will without lifting a finger.

Dean’s chest moved up and down steadily, dead asleep. The door stayed shut.

Sam exhaled shakily, through pursed lips, mouth tense as he minutely began to pull his hand away. Both his hands came up to either side of his face, a universal sign of what the fuck am I doing, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit— but also covering his ears, clutched close and squeezing, just as his eyes squeezed shut, too, his breath coming in quick bursts, again, hitching and painful.

His eyes snapped back open just as fast, though, scanning every inch of the scene before him — the graceful gleam of the Impala’s leather seats. Dean’s slack mouth. Dean’s drool on his arm where it was tucked under his head. Dean’s shitty green cooler that he should really give up on lugging around. Dean’s, Dean’s, Dean’s– Dean, whole, peaceful but for a small furrow in his brow that Sam hadn’t seen before. Dean, uninjured and driving around with the two pieces of Sam’s life that were the most integral to his definition of home: the Impala, and Dean himself. All absorbed, all stolen from the peaceful nightscape and tucked away into the webs of Sam’s fingers and behind his ears and in between his teeth and wherever he could fit them, really, all in the span of the few seconds Sam felt he could spare. 

Sam’s breath was hiccuping, at this point, but no, his eyes were not wet, thank you very much- this was grand larceny, not a damn soap opera. His foot shifted back in the loose gravel, just barely loud enough to be heard through the hands over his ears, but it was enough, setting him off like a track field gunshot. He ran. 

Hands off his ears, now, swinging him into his stride; more loud gravel, more hiccuped gasps, more not-tears, more stolen visages clutched tight, and a resolute decision to not glance backward to see if Dean had woken up. A thief in the night. He ran.

...

I years had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine And ask my business there. My business, — just a life I left, Was such still dwelling there? I fumbled at my nerve, I scanned the windows near; The silence like an ocean rolled, And broke against my ear. I laughed a wooden laugh That I could fear a door, Who danger and the dead had faced But never quaked before. I fitted to the latch My hand, with trembling care, Lest back the awful door should spring, And leave me standing there. I moved my fingers off As cautiously as glass, And held my ears, and like a thief Fled gasping from the house.

- Emily Dickinson

[barbiegirldream]

Need a fic where Nobara is trying to help Hana and Ozawa get their men while Yuji and Megumi are increasingly frustrated the three of them keep crashing their dates.

Like Yuji is in the normalest way possible trying to explain he has reached out and beared his heart to Megumi's actual soul so sorry that you're still hung up on middle school.

And Megumi is in the most awkward way trying to explain to Hana that he literally lives for Yuji he was just trying to make up for biting her arm off is all.

[chaos-has-theories]

[tiktaaliker]

the dreamer trilogy is so funny to me because it manages to pull some really gruesome and hard hitting shit (hennessy's nightmare, the nightwash, mattew finding out about being a dream, declan dealing with the consequences of being surrounded by dreams and dreamers, parsifal, tbh literally everything about the moderators and visionaries, etc) and then also just do goofy ass shit (ronan constantly worrying about adam replacing him in the funniest way possible, ronan and hennessy lugging around dream swords everywhere, declan trying soooo hard to be the normalest guy ever, escaping from the big confrontation using a stupid floating piece of wood as a skateboard, they have a not-quite-invisible car named burrito, bryde having the most pretentious ass dialogue ive ever read)

[zhongrin]

being from dragonic lineage, do your kids age differently/slower than other kids? do they live longer? do they have any particular affinity for geo like their father?? augh i love ur kids (that sounds a little odd but i mean it in the normalest way possible, i swear-)

- sachie

hmm.... technically, their 'human' form is them shapeshifting (they still have full dragon noodle forms but i'd like to think shifting into human forms came to them naturally because they do have human blood from my side). hence, i think they would 'grow up' at a normal rate in terms of their human appearance because 1) zhongli teaches them to and 2) they do go to school and play with other kids their age, meaning they would observe their peers and notice their growth, so they'll unconsciously do the same to their appearance.

but yes, they do live longer ;w; ....... when i feel evil i imagine a future where i die of old age and them having to cope with that kind of impactful loss for the first time. bonus imagine of zhongli having to bear the burden of me passing away AND the making sure the kids deal well with grief ˙ᵕ˙ /smacks myself

as for geo element affinity, i answered it here but tldr version is: yes i believe they would be able to wield the geo element :3

[drabbles-mc]

For the Writer Fic Ask game.....

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Pssst! For a lil razzle dazzle, please pick one of yours AAAAAAND someone else's! *shimmy shimmy* Thaaank youuuu! 😜

the way i reblogged this ask game yesterday and then was immediately taken out by the cold i've been battling 😂 but! we're back!

A fic of my own that I'd write a sequel for? The internal struggle of this as someone who is always building out elaborate universes in my head for all of my fics regardless of if they are one-shots or longfics 😂

BUTTTTTT I can definitely and easily say that one I'd write a sequel for is my Opie x OC fic Playing It Cool But She's Lying. In my head I have a whole longfic arc for those two but I just haven't gotten it all down on paper yet. But I love and adore them so much I simply thrash about when I think of them lmao

As for a fic of someone ELSESSSSS that I'd love to see a sequel to???? I want all of my friends to write always and forever let's be so real. ��� I can't limit myself to one. I have no self control. This is not news to any of us I fear lmao

Hard to hate up close by @hausofmamadas is something that I think about a truly innedsane amount. What I'd give for Andrea and Julian to keep ending up across the table from each other under whatever circumstances would make it possible. I want to peel their brains apart like onions in the normalest way possible.

Old Habits by YOUUUUUU!!!!!!! Love of my life YOU 🫵🏼 are not marked safe from this!!!!!! You give me Opie and the longing and the tension and the characterizations of him that make me cry and because I'm self-destructive by nature I would happily saddle up for more

And you? by @garbinge because you know bitches loooooove a crossover. it's me! i'm bitches!!!!!!! Narcos and SOA crossover??? Two of my most insufferable blondies thrown into a fic together??? What more could I possible ask for except for more situations to be in together????

Anyway. The thesis of it all is: i would read any and every word my friends write and would still always be down for more. You love to see it. 🥰

Fic Writer Asks

[libraryoffangirl]

I am so so so normal about Izzy Hands normalest I could possibly be no one more normal than me when it comes to Izzy Hands my beloved in a normal casual way

[brownhairedbookworm]

"Yeah, I guess so. Your legs already look good. And I mean that in the most normal way possible." She flashes Monika a genuine smile, you know, to show how normal she is. Naturally.

"Thank you~" She nods over to the pink lady. "You look good, yourself!" The most normalest girl.

[autisticandroids]

one thing that struck me about season one on the rewatch is how... generic it feels. very syfy motw xfiles clone number 3. a lot of the themes and narratives that seem in retrospect to be obviously present once you've watched the rest of the show clearly weren't on the writers' minds while writing the episodes. in particular, the searching for dad stuff is really thin - it doesn't have a ton of thematic resonance until, like, shadow. i guess arguably there's some in home and scarecrow but it's like, really noticeably absent in faith - dean is dying and sam calls john and gets voicemail and there's no like... we don't really sit with that. that's not the drama of the episode, the drama of the episode is dean's trauma and suicidality related to hunting (and indirectly, we as the audience know, to john, but this doesn't actually come up). in salvation, dean criticizes john for it, so we as the audience get it retroactively reframed as a thematic thing, but john's absence in season one is pretty much pure plot device until 75% of the way through. the trauma the narrative actually chooses to linger on is the much more generic dead girlfriend and dead mom stuff. the mary stuff doesn't even really make sense - obviously you can make it work if you think about it, if you've watched later seasons, if you've spent a lot of time contemplating dark side of the moon, but as presented it's actually just a little goofy. it's treated as dean's formative trauma in the same way jess is sam's, except, well. he was four. not only was he four, but he's lived an incredibly traumatic lifestyle since then. but the show isn't reeeeeaally interested in the ways salmondean are actually freaks, have lived unrelatable and strange lifestyles. this is gestured at with dean, particularly in faith and skin, but it definitely doesn't really consider the person dean is because he grew up hunting. sam gets hit a lot harder with this - he's the everyman protagonist, and the show takes every opportunity to contrast sam's normal with dean's wacko, so dean ends up making a little more sense than sam wrt hunting because sam's fish out of water routine is a little at odds with him having grown up in the life, even if he has been out for four years. it's also interesting to see that the "sam is a freak capital F" thing is really not an interpretation that appears in season one; that's absolutely a season two addition. in season one sam is absolutely and incontrovertibly the normalest everydude possible, while dean is much more questionable, someone who exists on the fringes of society and is not welcome. overall the theme of family really isn't pulled on and when it is, it's not in interesting ways? at least not until, like, shadow. the main tugging we get is re: mary, which as i said is kind of silly if you don't apply some kind of interpretation yourself to justify it. obviously the last few eps of the season make up for that lack: shadow, something wicked, dead man's blood, salvation, and devil's trap are all crazy family drama, but before that it just was not there. like, you could read it as being there. dean has a few batshit lines re: sam in particular. and it's there in like, scarecrow. but the show is not...... it's just not supernatural yet, you know? it's got very generic themes and narratives. obviously it starts becoming supernatural eventually at the ends but it's just... weird. anyway what i actually wanted to say was what ends up standing out the most about it is like... how much the brothers like and care about each other and know each other. like their relationship is sweet, believable, and incredibly charming. that's what lifts the show up before it really meaningfully becomes supernatural.