#is it relevant to the content of the story?

[37-feral-raccoons]

Alternatively, if you really want healing magic to be able to regrow limbs and shit, don't make it so any schmuck with ten minutes of experience can do that!! Magical healers of that level should have to go to fantasy medical school and get fantasy doctorates or whatever. Which of course makes their services extremely expensive, so only the rich have access to that level of magic - and boom, now you've worked in some relevant content about classism and the privatization of healthcare AND can still have disabled people in your story!

I did a version of this in my fantasy writing project - healing magic can't regrow limbs or anything because that would've destroyed some plot points, but there are magical prosthetics, hearing aids, etc. which, due to the rules of the magic system, are very difficult and expensive to produce. So when the main character meets someone with a prosthetic limb that gives them nearly full function, she immediately 1. Knows this person is rich as HELL, 2. thinks of her friend who's working with a literal wooden peg leg, and 3. decides that she does not like this new person very much because of that.

You don't get that kind of depth by just saying "Ah, what the hell, you can grow someone a new leg by waving your hands around and saying a little rhyme." Any good magic system won't erase disabilities, not only because that's ableist and weird, but because doing so also erases a lot of really good character and world building opportunities!

Anyway, PUT DISABLED PEOPLE IN YOUR GOTDAMN FANTASY WORLDS!!!!!!

im so tired of being nice. if you aren't normal about disability in fiction and especially fantasy genre fiction im actually going to come to your house and kill you

[auntopossum]

Capital 'T', Capital 'M': The Manager

Saja boys x Gender Neutral! Reader

Content warning: Job Application

Chapter 1: Associate's Degree in Minding Your Own Business

Authors note: Sat down. Read through the Saja Boy x Reader tag. Thought: "Man, I wish there were more manager stories. I eat these up." Paced, possessed for 2 hours while listening Your Idol on repeat. Thought: "Be the change you want to see in the world." Blacked out. 4k long, first chapter

Summary: If anyone were to come up and tell you that the Saja Boys are a bunch of demons, you would laugh in their face and tell them to get out. That's because the Saja Boys are totally normal humans. Nothing odd about them at all. That's just their quirks from how harsh the idol life is. What's wrong with temporary tattoos? You don't like their newest stage concepts? The media thinks the Saja Boys are a group of absolute, adorable and perfect, bunch of angels. The world believes you and your boys got where you were through luck, willpower, and skill. They praise you, The Manager, for being so open and honest about their struggles through idol-dom. Everyday you get better and better at cultivating the ultimate Professional Persona. Of course, if you're actually honest, then why are your pants on fire? No really. These pants are on fire. You and your boys got where you were because you saw the boys lay out a perfect pair of pants and heard them discuss how it needs to be lit on fire. Then, you put them on and lit them yourself. And if anyone were to run up and scream that the Saja Boys are a bunch of demons, you would laugh in their face and tell them you'd do it all over again.

Chapter 1: Associate's Degree in Minding Your Own Business

Your bedroom reeks. It’s nearing the rainy season, and already, the humidity has been hitting hard. Your A/C unit begs for mercy as it miserably chugs along, dangling precariously from your apartment window. Powdered flavoring and oils stick to the letters of your keyboard. Your monitor and pulsing PC lights are the only things illuminating the bags under your eyes. Thumping bass can be heard through your taped over window along with the roar of thousands of fanatic music enthusiasts. Tonight is the Huntr/x’s last performance before they go on an undisclosed hiatus. 

The rhythmic beats pound away at your already frayed nerves. You close your eyes and pray to anything that can answer as your email loads your latest messages. Junk. Junk. Junk. College asking for money. Junk. Tracking number for latest purchase. Food delivery receipt. Junk. Junk. Junk. Jun— Hang on!

Re: Job Applicant

It’s from one of the job listings you applied to. One of many. Many. MANY. MANY!  

You cross your fingers over your mouse as you click to open it. Please. PLEASE. PLEASE!!!

Of course. It isn’t an offer. Why would it be? That’d be really silly. It’s not like you haven’t applied to nearly a thousand job listings in hopes for something. But… It isn’t an outright rejection. The email informs you at the bottom with size 8, gray font a different listing within their company, ‘Better suited for your skillset’. The overtly friendly wording pisses you off, but you grumble and follow the link anyway. 

It takes 5 minutes to create a new account, despite already having made one for the other job listing. It takes 1 minute to upload your resume, bullshitted cover letter, and appropriate licensure. It takes another 5 minutes for the website to actually load and accept the files. It takes 12 minutes to re-enter all your relevant information. Something that can be easily seen on your resume. That you had been forced to upload. It takes 22 minutes of crying and bashing your fists on your desk, ‘God damn it! God damn it! God damn it!’, as you struggle for nice things to say in the mandatory 2k word essay. The application website has the audacity to demand you beg and sing their praises. Demand you explain why you felt destined! to work at this low paying job. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. goes the beat of the music. Chug. Chug. Chug. goes the hospiced air conditioner. Whirr. Whirr. Whirr. goes the struggling fans of your computer. 

The scream you let out is completely silent, and for a moment you see pure red—then blue!—then black! You hold your breath, trembling with a slew of broiling emotions and watch as your monitors and computer system attempts to reboot itself. Luckily, it takes less than a minute to come back, and you’re able to safely restore your tabs. All is OK. It’s OK. You’re OK.

Except you’re not. You’re so very not OK. The application website, which took 2 minutes and 26 seconds to buffer and refresh, informs you with an absolutely pathetic ‘ :( ‘, letting you know in a bastardized version of comic sans that you missed the window. They have already hired someone else. 

The scream you unleash is buried by the cheering over taking the city air. You shriek until your lungs are burning and your eyes stop watering. Checking the time, you decide to call it quits for the night. With a sniffle and a snot filled HONK! into a tissue, you shrug your jacket on and fumble for your keys. Slipping on some sandals, you miss your door’s key hole several times before finally, shakily locking it. 

It’s time for a little sweet treat. You deserve a lil’ sweet treat. You need a sweet lil’ treat, or you’re going to pass out.

With a whoosh the automatic door to the convenience store opens, and you step easily over the threshold. You furiously blink your swollen eyelids as your face is assaulted by their industrial A/C. Shuffling further in, you grab a small basket and make a bee line to the refrigerated drink section. 

Faced with 5 door’s worth of options, you pause and consider your choices. Mist curls around you as you squat to inspect a can. Too focused on envisioning its artificial taste on your tongue, you miss the several, ‘excuse me!’s coming from behind. You only move, just to fall flat on your ass, with a flinch as a burning hot hand sears into your shoulder. 

“Oh my goodness! I didn’t mean to startle you!”, apologizes the man above you with the perfect face. No really, that dark black hair and smooth face is uncannily perfect. You ignore the hand being offered to instead grip the rubber siding of the door. With a zombie-like groan, you haul your aching body up. 

“S’all good.” You mumble out, fiddling with the zipper of your jacket instead of making eye contact with the handsome stranger. That’s when you notice three more pairs of shoes by you. You twitch, slamming the fridge door closed, and stumble back into the slightly exposed abdomen and legs of a fourth pair. A set of uncomfortably warm, burly arms steady you, and you nearly flush with fever yourself. 

“While we have you~” purrs another equally good-looking gentleman. They sport a unique cut of pink hair and step too close into your personal bubble. Something cold touches the underside of your chin, and you're forced to look up into their face. “What is this?” The object moves from your skin to reveal itself to be a beverage can. 

“Uh…” You stupidly say, leaning back into the hot, supple chest behind you in an effort to clearly read the label being shoved in your face. “Soda?”

“What’s it taste like?” asks the boy to your left with blue hair, hugging a party sized bag of chips like a life line. 

You look over the vibrant packaging, and thankfully, it’s a brand you have the unfortunate luck to recognize. Intimately. There was a dark, dark time back in college where you drank enough to make a little christmas tree from the recycled tabs. 

“Chemically sweet. Exactly like—” you gesture with a semi-restrained limb to the can’s exterior. “You would expect the color, ‘icy blue’, and the name, ‘Coastal Tundra’, to taste like. 

“Is that… a good thing?” asks the original, beautiful stranger. They look slightly off kilter, and you take a moment to survey the cluster of absurdly handsome young men. The heat radiating by your back feels obscenely good as your muscles cease their insistent ache. 

With a long huff, blowing an imaginary strand of hair from your face, you lean back on your heels before recoiling to your tiptoes, momentarily forgetting how close they’ve gotten. You let a weary smile grow on your face and look straight at the nutrient label of the displayed soda.

“It is if you want a new vice.” You laugh with exhaustive experience. “55 whoppin’ grams of sugar and over 150mg of caffeine. Enough to kill ya’ and then raise your anxiety-filled corpse back from the dead.”

Immediately after you let the casual joke spill from your lips, you regret it. Swiftly, all 5 men dart back as if burned, and you shiver in place, resisting the urge to turtle into your jacket. 

“Sorry! I’m just gonna—” You swing open the door nervously, nearly whacking the dark haired man in the face, and dart down into a squat. As you grab your chosen beverage, you gently close the now fogged up door and turn around to find all exits blocked off.

Khisssss! sing both the icy blue can and the sealing fridge door. Your thoughts flatline as you watch Mr. Hot Muscles crack open the drink and chug it back into one go. After a moment, he sputters and chokes. You gulp down thick saliva as the clear, carbonated soda dribbles down his thick adams apple. He folds over in a near perfect bend, gasping for breath. His pink haired friend slaps him on the back several times while a look of confusion passes over the man’s face.

“So?” demands the blue one, shuffling closer to reach for the can that’s been placed on the freshly waxed tile. 

Finally recovered from choking, the man straightens to an impressive height and smacks his lips in consideration. Pondering with a sculpted hand on his chin, he announces to his fellow, pastel-wearing monkeys, “They’re right.” He nods his head sagely. “It’s exactly what you would expect that color to taste like. I can’t think of any other way to describe it.”

“But is it good?”

“No… but yes?” Smack. Smack. Lickkk. “It was honestly painful in my mouth, but the after taste has me craving more.”

“That’s how they getcha.” You comment, reminding the circus of your existence before realizing your error and slowly backing away. No luck though, as you’re roughly yanked to the side. Suddenly, you have the blue haired boy slung over your shoulder. 

“What’d you recommend?” He asks, voice slithering through your ear in a ticklish whisper.

You look up through your lashes at the gang and struggle. Despite their interesting choice of bright colors, they’re giving off seriously, drop-dead gorgeous vibes. Are these rich lil’ boys coming down from their castles to play with the common folk or something? Everything about their appearance screams Money, but none of them have that kind of nepo-baby air about them. If anything, they feel more like a clamoring bucket of small crabs, moments away from being speared through as fish bait and intimately aware of that fate. 

“What’s the vibe?” You try and shrug the sweltering weight off, to no avail. 

“Vibe?” mumbles one to another. 

“Mood? Theme? Aura?” You attempt to take a step further, wriggling your shoulders with a gnash of teeth. Can this guy get off you? You do not want anyone to be so close to you right now. Not when you’re so miserable. Not when you’re so tired. Not when your poor nerves are so fried and your tears have all but dried up. You take a shuddering breath as you successfully dislodge your clinger and turn to face the misty fridge once more. Your head throbs from stress and dehydration, and you press your forehead against the cool glass in search of relief.

“Heh. Whatever a bunch of out-of-touch demons would enjoy,” jokes the pink one from directly behind. He’s snuck close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, his hips and chest hovering just out of touch.

You tilt your head to press the left side of your face into the door and regard the black haired one with one fatigued eye. 

Eyebrows raised in a challenge, you hum. “I like that. Original.” Eyes dart back to the shelves to scan for a good recommendation. Torn between two, you find yourself asking, “Freshly arrived or been here for too long?”

Nobody says anything for a moment, and you distract yourself from your own emotional constipation by doodling a smiley face in the condensation. Immediately, it reminds you of the ‘ :( ‘ from the stupid, awful job website, and soon, you're sporting a frown to match it. 

“Freshly arrived.” declares a previously unheard voice. You glance at the man with hair shrouding most of his face, but his lips are quick to fall into a deliciously neutral position, as if he never spoke. 

With a thumbs up, you sidestep and whip the door open. This time, you actually hit the dark hair stranger. With a horrific, sickening crunch, chilled plexiglass makes contact with a perfectly sculpted nose. Before he can stumble away, you close the accidental weapon and lunge for his arms that rise to shield his damaged, no longer pristine, face.

“Oh fuck! Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you cry out, wrapping your fingers around his forearms. The skin burns under your clammy palms, but you hold firm and keep him from escaping. “I know first aid! Let me take a look!”

Then, a second round of crunching and popping occurs, muffled by taloned hands. A pair of watering, glowing eyes peeks at you through bloodied fingers. With the strength of someone two seconds away from truly Mc-freaking-losing it, you rip his hands away and take in the fully repaired cartilage. He uses your momentary hesitation to pull away completely, and you watch him tug his sleeves further down his arms. Just like your dying PC back at home, glowing tattoos pulse in a steady pattern from beneath his shirt and up his flaming cheeks. 

“Holy shit. Those are sick as hell.” You dumbly compliment, leering down at any inch of exposed skin, only to be met with swift disappointment as it returns back to its typical, normal human tone. 

Everyone is silent yet again, and you start discretely shuffling towards the candy aisle. 

Unsure of what to say, you’re rewarded with a whispered, “Uhhhh, thanks?” from him. You wordlessly pass him the chosen drink with a nod, and start step, step, stepping away. 

Dipping around the corner, you successfully get the hell out of that dodge and can now put your mind towards better things than properly socializing. Like minding your own god damned business and focusing on something sour, sweet, or savory. Down the ways, you can hear a quiet argument break out.

“What the fuck was that, Jinu?” 

“You think I planned to get my face smashed in?”

“So much for us being discrete and blending in.”

La la la. You love minding your own business. It’s just that there are so many options, and you’re standing here dutifully looking at them all. Still as stone so as to not bring attention to your proximity. 

“And you didn’t think to charm them or anything?”

Oh wow, what a steal! Buy 1 get 4 free for a mix and mash of this brand’s candy! 

“I’m not about to charm someone this soon! We’re trying to not catch any attention from hunters until we get ourselves established.”

Hm. This nutrition label is very informative. You could stand here in this exact spot all day. 

“And how are we supposed to gain a name for ourselves if we keep this up? We can’t just magic our way to fame you know!”

“Maybe they didn’t notice?”

“Are you kidding?! They totally noticed! They even complimented him!”

“That was a compliment?”

It’s so awesome that these sour snacks have jokes written on the back. It was like they knew someone would be forced to suffer through a critical enough situation that one must kill time by reading microscopic font. It’s so incredibly interesting because you are totally here minding your own business.

“Hang on if we can’t just charm our way through this plan, where are we supposed to even start?”

“I bet Jinu doesn’t even have a plan.”

“I have a plan!”

“Ok then. What’s the next step, oh leader of this-is-a-stupid-idea-that’s-totally-not-going-to-get-our-asses-scorched-by-hellfire.”

“First… We need to get a… manager?”

“Why was that a question?”

You just can’t choose. Do you go for the share sized chocolates or the 3 discounted packs of salted chews? It’s a really difficult decision, and you have to stand perfectly still and contemplate such a monumental choice.

“It’s hard to properly do research from the other side of the barrier! I’m pretty sure the best place to start would be to get a manager!”

“This is because you couldn’t figure out how to use that… Not-spider web thing… What is it???”

“The internet?”

“Yeah, that!”

“Well, what do we have to do to get someone for a manager? Pay for a newspaper ad? They still have those right?”

“I saw some for sale by the entrance. It’s really impressive how far printing presses have come.”

“I know right? I was shocked when I saw how colorful everything is!”

The tile by your foot has been placed upside down. You believe this because the spacing and cluster of small dots is more pronounced on one side, than the other and thus ruining the flow of the nonexistent linoleum pattern. It is very critical that one takes the time to notice these things. So important, you think you’ll just continue to chill here and check the ceiling tiles as well. 

“Guys. We’re getting off topic. Manager.”

“What kind of qualifications does a manager even need to have?”

LA! LA! LA! This is the region of Minding Your Own Business.

“And how much do we even pay them?”

You’re holding your breath because you’re totally in your own world and not listening to the goings-on of other people.

“Honestly, it doesn’t even matter. We really just need someone who can be a human front for us to help get hunters off our backs.”

“Ha. And make sure we don’t show our age.”

“...and show other things, but we’ve already messed up once. How are we going to handle working that closely with a human and keeping up appearances?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“So basically, we’ll hire based on… vibes?”

“Please don’t start using modern slang. You’ll actually reveal your age.”

Wowza! This store should really replace the middle left, second down, in the far upper corner, light segment. It’s been flickering ever so slightly as you work on finding your inner zen at this exact moment in time and space. 

“Ok, so from the sounds of it… literally any human will do as long as they are willing to hold up some sort of charade?”

“Yeah. That’s about right.”

“Where are we even going to find someone like that? None of us can use this age’s technology easily, and I really don’t think newspaper ads are the way to go.”

“Well, do you have any better suggestions for the job listing? I think it’s better than doing nothing right now. It’s not like you can expect a manager to appear out of thin air or something?”

“Hey guys.”

“AHHH!”

All five jump and flinch in on themselves as you lean your head around the aisle’s end cap display. All sport various, perfectly handsome, guilty looks, like they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Twisting your back with a crack! you round the bend and stand a few meters away.

“I guess, first, for the record, yes. I totally noticed. BUT—!” You stress, holding your hands up as the light around them darkens, and you're treated to 5 pairs of smoldering eyes pinning you in place. “W- W- Whu- Was. Oh my god— AHEM!— Sorry… Was that a job offer that I just overheard?”

5 pairs of glowing eyes look amongst each other in bewilderment before they all nod their heads synchronistically. 

“Great!” You say with a near manic smile, a twitching right eye, and a cute clap. “How much are you willing to pay me and when can we start?”

“Uhm.. the sooner the better.” replies the dark haired man awkwardly. Slowly, they all straighten out from their hunched, crooked postures, and resume their model-like posing in the back of the convenience store. “As for pay… uhhh… how does…”

“$14?” offers the blue haired one.

“$14? How does $14 sound?” the leader of the troupe says with much hesitation and a perfectly perfect smile.

“$14.” You glower. “$14-a-what?”

“A day?” suggests the buff guy.

“A DAY?!” You shout a little too loud. A feverish hand clasps over your mouth and suddenly, you’ve swept back into the inner ring of their cluster. You can’t tell if they’re actually hissing at you or shushing aggressively. 

“What’s wrong with $14 a day? Isn’t that good with today’s inflation?”

You easily shrug the hand from your face and clasp the muscular shoulder of the gentleman in front of you. The only thing you can hear is your own breathing and the staticky jingle of some ad through the store’s overhead speakers. 

“Brother.” You warn with a full toothed smile, sinking your nails into rock hard flesh. “A dozen eggs are like $10. Five pounds of rice is like $12. I want a livable wage, not a barest minimum wage.”

“Damn! That’s so expensive.” You hear softly exclaimed behind you.

“We— We, uh. We honestly don’t have that much money right now.” The black haired man admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How about this?” You begin, relaxing and removing your hand only to have it snatched by the stranger with the mop of silver hair. You huff to yourself and reluctantly let them inspect your smart watch, cringing only slightly when they aggressively sniff the wristband. “You help charm folk. I introduce you to the wonders of credit card fraud and spear phishing scams. We find a really swanky place for our base, and you pay me… hm… 14? Yeah. 14 percent of your earnings as you gain popularity and make it big.”

“...and in return, you’ll become our manager and help us become world famous idols?” He asks.

“Yup. Something like that. I guess I can help with your totally normal human stuff and not at all nefarious plans as well… as long as it’s within reasonable working hours, or I’m compensated with a sweet treat. Sound like game plan?” You throw them a double thumbs up for good measure.

“I guess. Uhm, welcome aboard..?” He sticks his hand out and tilts his head in search of your name. You laugh and try to shake hands with the opposite one, having your dominant taken up by Mr. Sniffers over here.

“You know what they say is better than a devil you don’t know?” You grin, offering your full name before giggling. “A devil you do. Nice to meet you, and you are?”

“Jinu.” He says with a pearly white, perfectly blinding smile.

“I’m Abby.” solemnly declares the handsome hunk.

“Romance~” says the pink haired one, stealing your hand from Jinu’s and kissing it lightly like a chivalrous knight. You recoil your arm back into your chest and try to discretely wipe the boiling hot saliva from the back of your hand.

“...Baby.” grumbles the blue haired boy. The chip bag in his hand is nearly empty, and you watch him adorably pout down into the remaining crumbs. 

“And that’s Mystery.” announces Abby with a jerk of his thumb and a hot hand on your shoulder. 

Before you can put your foot in your mouth some more, you feel a blistering tongue lave up your palm and all the way to the crook of your elbow. You twitch and shudder from the odd feeling, eyes widening at the realization of what he just did.

“Did?! Did you just?! Did you just lick me?!” You squeak out, body curling in on itself as if to protect your soft stomach. 

Romance tsks and shakes his head while Jinu tries to stamper out a professional apology. Both go ignored as another realization hits you with a dramatic gag.

“Bleugh! Grosssssss dude!” You whine, slipping from Mystery’s grasp and furiously wiping the hot, menthol-like feeling from your skin. “I took public transport to get here. Who knows where my hands have been or what they’ve touched!”

“That’s the problem here?” One of them whispers to another. 

Arm and hands finally free of weirdly warm, totally normal, human saliva, you cross them and think for a moment. 

“Ok so you guys want to be idols. Do you have a name in mind?” You question with a tap, tap, tapping of a foot, sandals hitting the humid, waxed tile with a damp plap.

“Yes.” Jinu perks up, relieved to steer back into a conversation he’s mentally prepared for. “The Saja Boys.”

“Saja Boys?” You hum to yourself, twisting open the drink that’s been in your basket and taking a swig. You look between all the colorful hair surrounding you before your exhausted eyes fall back to the group’s leader. “Hey, can I get a cool, fake band name too, or do I have to stay boring like Jinu?”

“Did you have something in mind?” Baby asks over Jinu’s soft, ‘hey!’.

“Yeah. I wanna be known as The Manager.”

“The Manager? Really? That feels too literal.”

“Like your names aren't? Also you have to say it with a capital ‘T’ and ‘M’, like ‘The Manager’.”

“Wh- You can’t capitalize sound when you talk. What’s even the point?”

“Hey man, if ya know ya know.” You grin smugly with a shrug, pivoting on your heel and heading towards the door. “Now, it’s just past midnight. The day can’t get any younger. Let’s go transform you bunch into some spiffing popstars. First thing’s first. We’re going to catch you up on modern pop and idol culture.” You blatantly walk out without having purchased any goods, holding your stolen drink high in the air. The plastic reflects the twinkling lights of the electrified city, and your eyes glimmer with life. “To an internet cafe!”

[zosan-secondchances]

Pirate King of the North: Part 32

Warning: Story contains One Piece spoilers, strong language and explicit content.

First | Previous

More info down below.

I'm sorry this was late. I spent too long rendering Ichiji's chest hair doing perspective drawings and colouring.

Originally I had Ichiji lose his eyes from a big battle for being a warmonger prince but I needed a reason for the Vinsmoke siblings to eventually accept Sanji's actions for killing off Vinsmoke Judge when they were younger. What better way to bring the family together than their mutual hatred for their late father?

Also the comic technically isn't relevant til after the chapter but I worked too hard on it to not share it immediately.

[pirateprincessjess]

hey jess, you've been getting a lot of anon hate lately so i wanted to tell you a nice story!

my gf, Emma, is a trans girl and she really looks up to you. she's 20, but started coming out around 16 (we've been together since 16 and 15!!) she had a lot of issues with self confidence and was dysphoric all the time, and really struggled to find positive transfem role models. i introduced her to your content, and you really helped her bloom into herself as a woman! she loves that you're a massive nerd (/pos, ofc) and it gives her confidence to be her true dorky self. i love when your posts come across my dash because seeing them reminds me of how much my gf has grown. thank you so much for what you do and who you are <3 im a big fan too, but that's not as relevant!

Oh my gosh. You’ve genuinely made me cry (good cry) with this one. Thank you so much. I needed to hear this. Much love to both of you

[tf2bigbang]

The server for 2025's Team Fortress 2 Big Bang is officially open!

A fandom Big Bang is when a bunch of creators get together to make pieces inspired by each others’ work. This Big Bang will be formatted in a way that a writer creates a fic, then an artist makes a piece inspired by that fic. Big Bangs are generally split into four distinct time periods: signups, claims, creation, and posting. This event will take place over a period of 2 months, and is open to writers and artists of all mediums.

(Hosted by @hanktalkin)

FAQ:

Q: How long will I have to create my entry? A: 1 month.

Q: Will this interfere with Artfight? A: Nope! Artists are not expected to start contributing until August 11th.

Q: Is a portfolio required to enter? A: No. Anyone who wishes to participate is welcome.

Q: What is the minimum word count for fics? A: 1000 words

Q: Will there be 18+ content? A: No.

Q: How does writing signup work? Do I have to have something already written? A: Initial writer signup only requires that you 1) confirm that you will be participating 2) let us know if you are signing up with a partner or not. It'll be better if you have an idea already in mind, but if not you can use the writer's chat to get help with brainstorming.

Q: How does artist signup work? Do I have to make art for a story idea I don’t like? A: By the time artist signup rolls around, writers will need to have written at least some portion of their fic, and will submit a summary and relevant ships/content warnings to the mod team. Mods will anonymously organize those summaries into a slide show, and artists will let us know if there are any that they would not be comfortable making art for.

Q: Can I write/draw my OCs? A: If your OC is the focus of the fic, you will need to find a partner ahead of time. This is due to the difficulty of writing for the original characters of people you're not close friends with. (Populating your fics with minor original characters is fine. For instance, writing about Scout's brothers and giving them names is within reason.)

[shousetsubangbang]

Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 115: Bedside Manner

cover by Pastel

~*~

Without a Trace, by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ)

Spike Traps and Other Adventuring Hazards, by Fil-in-the-blank

Map of the World, by Hyakunichisou 13 (百日草 十三)

Bedside Manners, by Howe-Yeing Pon

Beautyberry, by Greta Jia-Kang Cabrel

Iterum, by Chiyohana Odile (千代花 オディール) *

Proboscis Me Please, Daddy, by Devin Ambrosia *

The Man With the Golden Syringe, by shukyou (主教)

*illustrated

—

Hands-On Procedure, by Iron Eater

~*~

Loneliness. Anxiety. Despair. Apathy. The modern world can often be isolating, confusing, even heartbreaking. Just going about your day can feel like being battered from all sides by hate and fear. Even purported escapes from outright fascist tyranny are often policed by purity cultures that only allow sanitized, family-friendly content.  Many people reaching for that rainbow aren’t getting the help they need.

For all those struggling, there is hope. There’s SHOUSETSU BANG*BANG®.

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—

(For summaries, creators’ notes, and more, we would usually tell you to see this issue’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki. In the interim, however, please visit the relevant Google Doc of contributor commentary for similar content.)

[randomherofan45]

deltarune chapters 3/4 gave us a lotttt of new kris content ( which i love, i am their #1 fan ), but i haven’t seen many people talk about what the egg rooms mean in regards to kris.

before ch 3/4, i didn’t believe the egg man was important or relevant to the main story, but clearly i was wrong. i think i identity of the egg man still doesn’t mean much, but what he represents does. kris will always forget him after we get the egg. i honestly am kinda confused by the ch 3 egg room (why is kris in their LW form, what is up with the seven flying aces, why is it in this 8-bit style), but the ch 4 egg room paints a much clearer picture.

first, before even entering the room, there is a prophecy showing a house surrounded by trees that simply says “roots”. the organikk next to it has the jumbled dialogue “lost where the forest would grow, the children followed the pointed tail” and then “the poor children!”. i have absolutely no clue what any of this means, but it feels very important. maybe it has something to do with dess? it definitely has something to do with kris’s past.

the egg room itself is in a hospital. this is where we learn kris went to art therapy. in order to get the egg, kris draws on what they saw behind the tree on a canvas, but ends up starting over and drawing over what they had previously drawn, leaving nothing but a smear of graphite. they then paint a tree over it. clearly something bad happened to kris/ involving kris. it could be what happened to dess, or it could be something else, but we know the tree is represents kris’s repression of those memories. kris being unable to wash away the graphite on their hands afterward shows that they feel guilty about what happened.

i feel like the egg rooms going forward are going to give us more hints to what happened behind the tree ( though the tree might not be literal ), until it will be revealed in the main story in ch 6/7. i am really, really excited for the future of deltarune.

i wanna know what other people think of all of the egg room stuff!

[rahuratna]

Rahu's Nanami Week Masterlist

Hello friends!

This is a collection of the stories I've been working on for Nanami week. I've decided to create a masterlist to keep track of them, and to make it easier for others to access, as some of these fics are multi-parts.

I will post each fic on the relevant prompt date, in the order below, and link it here! There may be more stories added in future (the remaining prompts).

Written for the prompt: 'Papamin', featuring Knight Nanami and Squire Yuuji.

Contents: Canon-typical violence, humour, drama, mystery, action, adventure. Synopsis: When Sir Kento returns from pilgrimage, he is unexpectedly saddled with a bright and cheerful young squire (one he definitely didn't ask for). Kento and Yuuji set out to investigate a summons from a nearby village, concerning a great and terrible beast roaming the countryside ...

Part 1 Part 2

Written for the prompt: 'Cooking'.

Contents: Canon-typical violence, drama, suspense. Synopsis: A different perspective on Nanami's encounter with the girl from the bakery, and the curse that afflicts her.

Written for the prompt: 'Happy Birthday, Nanami!'

Contents: Humour, crack, fluff

Synopsis: Yuuji is convinced that Nanami has mastered the art of the 'ninja duck face', one that eludes all the photos he's been taking. Will he ever be able to snap the proof he needs?

Written for the prompt: 'Frustrated Release'. (A multipart fantasy AU, featuring Sorcerer Nanami x Serpent Keeper Reader)

Contents: Romance, fantasy, mystery, suspense, drama, sexual content. Synopsis: For centuries, your clan has functioned as the Keepers of the Dymeradions, the great feathered serpents of the deep forest. Peace reigns in your compound, until one night, when Sorcerer of the Black Veil, Nanami Kento, comes bearing news that could spell the end of all you hold dear.

Written for the prompt: 'Scars', featuring Grey/Assassin Nanami x Reader.

Contents: Mystery, suspense, action, romance. Synopsis: It's just another bustling evening at the local fair, until a man in a red pinstripe suit appears at the ticket booth to the Ferris wheel, plunging you into a world beyond your wildest imaginings.

[larkral]

Happy WIPsday! I have been wanting to post for approximately 2 weeks, but it's been chaosville at my house, so I haven't done it. I'm not seeing any tags, so I'm going to start us off this week!

So.... in the past two weeks I've written almost 2,000 words on Simon's Two Mums AU and about 4k words on Firstprince Soulmate BS. This is a lot for me! I'm excited about both of them! Soulmate BS is marinating after having had a very important scene written, so finally (already, always) got some overdue attention, and I'm really enjoying where it's going.

Simon's two mums:

Then, mum says, "Is it standard practice to cast spells on students without their agreement or parental assent?"  "I'm sorry?" [omitted for spoilers] says.  "Mum," I hiss at her.  "I'm sorry, Simon, but I'd be very curious to know if this is a common experience for students here, or if it's something that's happening particularly often to my son." Her voice is hard and angry. Her lawyer voice, the one that knows she's going to win, and doesn't mind letting you know as well.  "It's…" [spoiler again] sits back down. "It is, actually, quite common, but it is also very likely that it's happening particularly often with Simon."  Mum seems surprised at how easily he goes along with her. "I'd appreciate if you would draft a policy document that provides students and their parents with more explicit knowledge of circumstances in which they may be subject to magical correction or intervention."  "Of course, yes," [this person's name would spoil you] says. "Absolutely." He moves to stand again, and then sits back down. "Is there anything else before Simon returns to class?"  "No," Mum says. "Unless you have anything you'd like to talk about, Simon?" Mummy asks, and I could cry. I almost do.

Soulmate BS and tags below the cut because I know what y'all here for.

BRILLIANT SHIT I say. Welcome to some soulmate lore knowledge.

"Mmm, yeah," Henry says, then with a little more clarity. "Sorry, what are we having a hard time believing? It's been quite the night in that regard."  [quip removed for spoilers] Alex says. Henry hardly gets in his demure Indeed before Alex says, "I don't think it's that hard to believe that I'm a better dancer than you.” "No," Henry says, and then he presses his thumb into his phone and turns the screen towards Alex.  You're Linked! the Heartlink banner reads, overlaying an illustration of red, pink and brown confetti. "Oh, shit." Alex says.  Congratulations! Your bandmatch was calculated at a 97.82% level of synchronization. That's well above the threshold at which we recommend a parallel re-sync. Your concierge, Alana, will be in touch within 24 hours to facilitate contact with your soulmate.  "Quite," Henry says. Alex can feel his heartbeat in his stomach, suddenly. It's a little bit nauseating, like he might throw up.

Thanks to @talentpiper11 for the name inspiration for the soulmate matching app. Which obviously every soulmate universe must have.

Tags and hugs to all my fandom friends. I hope you're making it through this week, lovelies.

@stitchyqueer @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart @whogaveyoupermission @cutestkilla

@hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy

@captain-aralias @petedavidsonscock @artsyunderstudy @martsonmars @nausikaaa

@chen-chen-chen-again-chen @that-disabled-princess @shrekgogurt  @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl

@blackberrysummerblog​ @valeffelees @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @run-for-chamo-miles

@talentpiper11 @orange-peony @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @mooncello

@aristocratic-otter @roomwithanopenfire @monbons @kiwiana-writes

[veinsfullofstars]

Meet the Families: Bebebe & Jojojo

Everyone, say hi to Dedede’s mama and papa - a pair of lovebirds as different as day and night! Check below the cut for more deets and fun facts!

(OC info updated as of 05/28/25.)

Started 04/14/25, finished 04/20/25. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

---

Some fun facts about Bebebe:

-Bee is originally from Planet Earthfall and grew up helping out on her family’s farm... or trying to, anyway, finding her eye tended to wander away from boring farm work and drift towards the distant horizon instead. All it took was a handsome drifter and his tales of life beyond the stars to get her feet moving, sparking a sense of wanderlust that remains with her to this day.

-During her far-flung travels, she discovered the world of spectacle fights and pursued a career in an interstellar wrestling circuit on a whim, finding a knack for it and even earning a good bit of fame for a time thanks to her fiery persona, impressive strength, and skill with her weapon of choice, the great hammer.

-She met Jojojo during the height of her career, spotting him in a group of visiting Star Warriors who’d seen her latest match. She likes to talk about how much she enjoyed the process of slowly cracking open his hardened solider exterior, of seeing just what it took to make him smile or laugh or share a bit of himself, of finding a nurturing side that he’d hidden away for so long (his battle skills were nothing to sneeze at either). She’d been the one to propose not long before her planned retirement from the circuit some years later.

-She loves food just as much as her son, having discovered many delicious exotic dishes during her travels (though she has a soft spot for the southern comfort food of her homeland). She jokes that she would’ve probably been an intergalactic foodie if she hadn’t joined the fighting circuit. She is a regular customer over at the bakery run by Para's dad.

-Bee is a kind and gregarious woman, well-liked by just about everyone in the neighborhood and good at making friends of even the grouchiest souls (if her choice of partner is any indication). Though, despite having a veritable well of patience, it would not be wise to push her buttons too much or talk smack about anyone she cares about. There’s a reason they used to call her Madame Caldera in her wrestling days…

-Bee never really considered herself the motherly type until she and Jo came to Popstar and had her only son. Now she can't imagine not caring for the little tykes that run and play around her new home. She even took on a part-time position as a PE teacher and sports coach for the children of the village, happy to help keep them fit and active even if they can all be a handful sometimes (like, literal handful - she can easily lift most of them with one hand and toss them like basketballs if she wanted).

-Bee has loved her son from the moment he was born and would spoil him rotten if given the chance (one of the very few points of contention between her and her husband, given how much she tends to let the boy get away with). One can only imagine the absolute joy in her heart when Dedede asked her to teach him how to fight like she did back in her wrestling days.

-Even after decades of marriage, Bee still knows how to fluster her prim-and-proper husband.

Some fun facts about Jojojo:

-Jo is originally from Shiver Star, raised in a well-off family with parents who were (no pun intended) rather cold and traditionalist. He claims that the only good parts of his childhood were learning to play the piano and wandering through his family’s greenhouse.

-He left for the GSA at an early age (supposedly at the encouragement of a less-than-loving parent) and would go on to spend much of his adult life training and working for them. There, he rose through the Star Warrior ranks, facing many hardships and triumphs along the way, and even learned how to conduct the very elements around him into his weapon of choice, the longsword. By the time he’d met Bebebe, he’d become quite the decorated knight, practically on track to become a General had he not encountered some… difficulties during one of his last missions, ones that left him with a scar on his foot and a permanent limp, forcing him into an earlier retirement than he’d anticipated. He still keeps in contact with his commanders and war buddies through Paige and Sir Tort (definitely just for correspondence and not for long-distance contract work to fill the void left by his retirement).

-Though Jo has many an exciting and grisly tale from his time overstars, he’s not the best storyteller, his recounts often dry and monotonous even during the most heart-pounding scenes. He’s more of a stickler for facts, statistics, and order as opposed to the subjective and emotional.

-Perhaps stemming from a childhood spent on a planet covered in endless winter, Jo has always had an interest in plants and nature, finding their elemental power to be the easiest for him to conduct and control. He’d put it aside for a while during his GSA days (tending to favor ice more during that time), but rediscovered it after meeting Bee, her friendship and gentle encouragement leading him back to those old, beloved hobbies. These days, he helps out at the local apothecary in the village - run by Para’s mother - and practically fills their home with potted plants, caring for them and even giving his favorite ones names (don't laugh - he takes his plants very seriously).

-Jo is civil and respectful with most of their neighbors - talking mechanics with Bow's mom, or discussing herbalism with Para's mother, or trading tales of time overstars with Sir Tort - but he's not nearly as chummy with everyone as his more sociable wife. He has found a surprising camaraderie with Whispy Woods, though, appreciating the old tree for his wisdom when he comes seeking answers or advice, and for his patience when he needs some space or a place to vent.

-Though often busy helping at the apothecary or away on *ahem* off-the-clock GSA business, Jo occasionally makes time to train some of the older children in the way of the sword should they be interested. He is not exactly a patient teacher, but he is an effective one to the right students (as showcased by Meta and his - in Jo's words - remarkable aptitude for swordplay).

-Jo’s relationship with his son is… a strained one, to put it lightly. Though he does care about the boy and wants to see him succeed, he's not great at showing it, instead defaulting to methods of strictness and distance used in his own upbringing. He has a habit of piling expectations upon the boy, delivering curt critiques and passive-aggressive disappointment whenever he fails to meet them. Dedede usually responds with shouting, backtalk, and childish acts of rebellion that only serve to reinforce Jo’s frustration with him, leaving it up to Bee to mediate things and try to encourage patience between them.

-Even decades into their marriage, Jo is ever the gentleman and treats his wife with the utmost respect.

[spark-circuit]

I'm so so happy Dav Pilkey is still writing deep messages into his books. Maybe the kids reading it won't get it at the time, but Petey's whole arc of moving past his problems with his dad and remembering his mum is so nice to read as an older reader.

[verdemoth]

I've continued playing Fallen London on and off and I've been wanting to make a new ref for Mel for AAAGES, not just to update old art but also show some of the character development Mel's experienced after a handful of years in the Neath! The ES 'Adornment' especially was a major turning point for Philomel and sparked Mel's revolutionary leanings, and is when Mel began to realize Mel's formed meaningful ties just as important as Mel's quest for vengeance. This year's estival (the Coilheart Games) brought out another evolution of this, and Mel's settled into an investigative role in the adamant belief that such worldshattering secrets and threats that encompass the entire city should NOT be purposefully withheld from the people living in it.

Image text is probably hard to read, and there's a transcript below this readmore

Text Transcripts:

In the top right are some quick details. Mel's full name is Philomel Pelayo Muros. In the style of other Fallen London characters, Mel's epithet is 'the Steely-Eyed Gun-for-Hire'. Mel uses no pronouns, Mel's 38 years old and 5 feet 2 inches tall. Mel resides in the Flit, and Mel's profession is as a mercenary and freelance investigator. The faction Mel is closest to is the Revolutionaries, with which Mel has 15 Renown. Mel is an Ambition: Nemesis character.

Below this are some notable player character attributes. Of the main attributes, Philomel has high Dangerous and Watchful but low Persuasive. Mel also has high Dreaded. Of the quirks, Mel has high Steadfast, Melancholy, Ruthless, Forceful, and Magnanimous, but low Subtle and Heartless. Mel also has the quality 'Tragedy: Death of a Spouse'.

Paired with the portrait in the top left are these notes, pointing to several parts of the illustration: "Permanent dark circles from years of stress, poor sleep and frequent nightmares. Mel always looks exhausted and more than a little haunted."

"Mel has acne scars, and a lot of other scars. Mel accumulates wounds almost as quickly as Mel does nightmares."

"A skull fracture obtained during 'Adornment' resulted in some long-term afflictions. These include vision and hearing loss (both on Mel's left) as well as vertigo spells. Mel also fractured a wrist and dislocated a shoulder, now prone to re-injury."

"Mel originally shaved just for ease in tending to the fresh wound. But Mel ended up vibing with the style and is still sporting it a few years later."

The next notes point to the raven (named Sarangerel) perched on Mel's arm in another illustration: "A black raven from the Surface - very rare in the Neath. She spent a good many years with the Tomb-Colonist who first found and nursed her to health, and who gave her her name. Sadly, that chapter has come to an end. She's befriended Philomel, and is glad for Mel's companionship. She doesn't speak much these days, but she sings beautifully her wistful, plaintive melodies."

With the drawing of Mel's hand are these notes: "Finally bothered to ditch the New Newgate cuffs, but Mel got used to the weight and replaced them with heavy bracelets. The 'jewels' are coloured glass."

Each of Mel's possessions are accompanied by a note:

"Rose-Shaded Lenses. Prescription, for light sensitivity and migraine. They've seen better days."

"Revolutionary's Red Feather Pin. Kept close at hand, seldom displayed."

"Horseshoe Lapel Pin. Always part of Mel's ensemble. Worn in reference to a departed friend."

"Ring with a Rose Motif. Of significant sentimental importance. It was an anniversary gift."

"Simple Derringer. Typically hidden somewhere on Mel's person, though Mel now favours a knife. Mel's aim isn't what it used to be."

Text transcripts end here.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[once-delight]

Lestat and Daniel fight fight fight!

Live dog walker reaction:

So my friend Jay @radiocurrency writes this fic where Vamp!Daniel and Lestat gets into a fight in a park near the Golden Gate bridge (Lestat is trying to help Daniel lure out Armand by making him jealous, but oops they try to outbitch each other instead and it ends in a fight where Daniel gets so angry he literally learns to fly just so he can punch Lestat.)

The story is so well written, and the characters are on point, yet I couldn’t help but imagine a poor dog walker pass the scene by and trying to pretend he didn’t just see the rockstar Lestat and Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Daniel Molloy (he’s cultured and reads The Times when not walking his dog) flying through the air, hissing and punching each other. Just another night in San Fransisco.

Full pic under the cut!

[bowtiepasta]

marvel giving harrison ford more character than anthony mackie in his own movie is fucking ridiculous

[puhpandas]

what are u guys' dream game after sotm? since itll be the last game centered around the mimics backstory and integration and stuff (hopefully) theres basically a whole world of possibilities for currently neglected storylines lol