#keep up the great writing

[thefloatingstone]

Appleseed PDA montage to save you from reading endless pages of unimportant politics that don't amount to anything

also because I have nothing better to do, I'm bored, I'm moody, my gaming laptop is still broken so no BG3, and it's too late at night to start drawing after doing animation clean-up all day.

[dollypopup]

"Penelope should have chosen Debling!"

My sister in Christ. . .he literally dumped her???

Like just before Colin Bridgerton was on his knees after outrunning her carriage to profess how he can't stop thinking about her in his love me, choose me, I'm yours speech, Debling did the Regency equivalent of calling her a floozy who would undoubtedly cheat on him when he abandoned her for several years to chase his passions (because she would never be one of said passions since she asked outright if he could ever come to care for her and he went 'hmmmm seems unlikely! good thing you have solitary hobbies to occupy you instead!') when he has been given 0 evidence of such other than realizing she liked to look out the window because she had a crush on the boy across the street. I was ready to challenge that man to a duel for Pen's honor

His feelings for her were middling at best, I mean Christ on a Pogostick, after he asked her mum for permission to propose he isn't even happy when he opens the door and Pen is there? She's looking like a snack- nay, a whole ass MEAL, and he can't even smile? He just nods at her and dips the fuck out? You don't think it would kill Penelope to know that both her sisters have husbands who absolutely adore them and she's out here with an absent dude who likely won't even write to her?

Portia's 'Love is make believe!' speech is so transparently full of shit when you realize that we've got Dankworth who is so obsessed with Prudence that he makes heart eyes at her every waking moment and considers her his little bonbon and Albion who loves Phillipa so much that he was waiting for her to consent to sex (not realizing she didn't know what it was) for two entire years because he would never pressure her and so he was content with finishing in his pants when he kissed her to make sure she was comfortable. And you want Penelope to settle for a life of loneliness? When Colin is so besotted with her that he dreams of her and breaks every societal expectation in the book as a notorious People Pleaser to run after her and cannot even wait for the morning after being intimate with her to introduce her as his wife to his family in the middle of the night? You want her to turn down Mr "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" Bridgerton? For LORD PENGUIN?

Be so serious right now

[ramblesbiab]

Hope the CaitVi sex starts with anger and a loud track behind it, two jaded women so far from who they used to be and fed up with the world. It could be cut with clips of fights, of sweaty gun maintenance and wailing on punching bags as hands dive and grip and beg, as spit flies from mouths. But as it goes, they start to focus on each other again, Caitlyn grabs Vi’s face and whispers so quietly we don’t hear it. They hear it, though. The cuts slow down, the music starts to mellow. You better believe that Vi starts crying as she finishes. She forgot how contact like this felt. Careful, gentle moves, Caitlyn’s eyes reassuring her. They lie together quietly as Vi’s makeup runs.

Caitlyn pulls the butch to her chest, holding her as the camera moves up, as we leave them in their quiet moment. They deserve that much.

[knaccblog]

We all know that when Crowley says, "You can't leave this bookshop", what he's really saying is, "You can't leave this life we've made together", but he's too scared to include himself explicitly in it, right? It's like in the fight about Gabriel where Crowley says he wants Gabriel "nowhere near the precious, peaceful, fragile existence he's carved out for himself" but we all know he's just talking about Aziraphale because whenever he's actually talking to Jim or himself, he's only worried about what will happen to Aziraphale, not himself in the slightest. Worrying what will happen to himself is a facade he pulls up in front of Aziraphale to deflect from how deeply he loves him.

On the other hand, when Aziraphale says, "Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever", he's really saying, "I love you so much that I am willing to give up all my most precious worldly possessions to assure that you are given the treatment and reinstatement you so deserve." His tone of voice and his face are both all love even.

Like it's just so amazingly sad that what Crowley is reading as rejection, as "you're not good enough as you are", is almost definitely Aziraphale saying he loves him more than everything else and thinks he's the most truly good soul he knows?

[adrift-in-thyme]

May I request Fairy Time and Hyrule doing some wing care or teaching the others how to help them take care of their wings?

Yes you absolutely may! Tysm anon!! I hope you don’t mind a bit of angst with all the softness

CW for one mention of blood

———————————————————————-

“How long has it been since you did this?”

Hyrule runs gentle fingers over Time’s wings. They spread grandly on either side, hues of soft greens and delicate blue-violets reflecting the sun’s smiling rays. Usually, they are colored in bold crimson and royal blue, which clash like swords on a battlefield. But today they take on a more tired appearance. Faded, they have begun to droop discouragingly.

Time has never admitted it, but Hyrule has eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that his wings change when something is wrong. More often than not, they herald the disturbance before it can truly become known. A flash of forest green and the next thing he knows Time is fading into the mist in search of solitude.

…or collapsing in the middle of the trail.

Now, Time hums, sounding distracted. His hands lie in his lap. Absently, he twists his wedding band back and forth so quickly it is liable to rub a rash into his skin.

(Another nervous habit of his Hyrule has picked up on.)

“I’m not certain,” he admits, after a moment of quiet contemplation. The words are spoken with an air of something so desperate to be flippant. “I’ve been occupied with other matters.”

Hyrule blows out a weary sigh.

Other matters like worrying about all of us.

True, things have been strained amongst the heroes since Twilight’s injury. And as unofficial leader — and the rancher’s ancestor — Time has borne the brunt of it all. But still….

Malon had warned him about this.

“Oh, he just doesn’t take care of himself.” She had whispered during a visit to the ranch months ago after Time had fallen asleep at the dinner table. Head resting on her shoulder, he slept far deeper than he had in days.

“I’m not askin’ y’all to hover or anything. Heaven knows you’ve got enough on your plates as it is. But…just check in once in a while, will ya, loves? I don’t want him to lose himself while trying to take care of everyone else.”

Hyrule can’t help but feel that he has failed. The events of the past weeks have left their mark upon him too. Exhaustion has hounded him at every turn, dragging him down so heavily that he has nearly collapsed beneath it. And yet, he had noticed the signs. The quietness, the reservation, the increase in snappishness…the fear. But he had done nothing about them.

It wasn’t until Time had asked if he had taken the time to care for his own wings that he realized he hadn’t seen the older hero settle down to tend to his own lately.

He winces as he weaves the spell into some of the worse areas, mainly gathered around a large scar. These large wings, normally so bright with magic and life, have begun to lose their glimmer. Frightened, they shrivel, curling in one themselves to shield from the light.

With wings like this, flying will soon become agonizing.

Would he have tried to anyway? Hyrule doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.

Solitude can be harmful. He knows that far too well. But sometimes he wonders just how much of his life Time has spent alone to end up believing it is the only way to get by. Even after this family they have formed along the paths of hardship, even after Malon, it seems to be the road most familiar to the hero.

“You can always ask me, you know.”

He has been gentle this entire time, even more so than he is with his own wings. But with this part, he is extra cautious. He threads the healing magic into Time’s veins with the delicacy of one handling glass.

“I know it’s hard to take care of your wings yourself. And I know it’s even harder to trust others to do it for you. But…” He swallows as his fingertips graze the scar.

What had occurred to create such a chasm? To his knowledge, Time has never spoken of the event. Sometimes, he wonders if he ever will.

“You trust me…right, old man?”

Time looks up, fingers stilling at last.

“Of course, I do, traveler,” he says, softly. “I don’t mean to make it seem like I don’t.”

“Then, let me help you. Please?”

“I’m allowing you to now, aren’t I?”

The traveler huffs. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. It doesn’t mean I can’t tease.”

There is a smile in his voice, and Hyrule is glad of it. Even still, if the hero believes he’s going to escape without a proper reply, he is sorely mistaken. If Hyrule is known for anything, it’s his infinite stubbornness.

“Come on, old man,” he urges, softly. “Promise me you’ll ask someone to help tend to your wings when you need it. It doesn’t even have to be me. Just ask someone, please.”

Time’s wings are beginning to improve now. Threads of vibrant red glow from beneath the green. Like blood on new cloth, they spread, engulfing the other colors. He watches, slightly awed.

“I love you, Time,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you enduring pain just cause you don’t want to be a burden.”

For a long moment, Time says nothing. The only sounds are the subdued jingles of the spell twined about Hyrule’s fingers and the harmony of their breaths. It is peaceful in a pensive sort of way.

Then, “alright,” he says in a voice taut with emotion. “But only if you allow me to help you when you need it. Don’t think I don’t see how you struggle to remember your own welfare. You are too selfless for your own good.”

Hyrule chuckles. “Well, I could say the same about you.”

A small smile lifts Time’s lips. “Such is the path of the hero, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” The traveler’s gaze goes to the scar once more. “I guess.”

Silence pads in on soft, silken paws and settles down cozily. Time goes back to rotating his ring, though the motions are slower, calmer this time. Hyrule turns his full attention to finishing his task. Above them, the sun smiles, and Time’s wings transfer it in panes of pale red upon the blades of grass.

“Traveler?” Time’s voice is so quiet it is hardly above a whisper. It nudges aside the quiet, murmurs with the wind.

When the hero is in his fairy form, it is as though he is of the nature that surrounds them; as at home amongst the towering trees and great sky, stones and moss and gurgling streams, as the fleet-footed deer or furtive foxes.

Hyrule looks up, head cocked in question. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. And…” Time smiles, so soft it erases years of anguished hardship from his visage. “I love you too.”

The traveler smiles.

[pain-in-the-butler]

A compilation of art for my Dadbastian fanfic Coattails that I commissioned from the incredibly talented @karafina! They went above and beyond with the details... Each picture feels as cozy and warm as a storybook, right? I'm so delighted with how they turned out!! Thank you for making each one so beautiful! 🥹🥹🥹

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

things we learn about mulder in s1

he wanted to be an astronaut when he was young, and stayed up all night when he was 14 to watch his hero do a walk in space

he's scared to death of fire because his friend's house burned down when he was a kid

he went to oxford 10 years before the start of s1, where he dated phoebe and they, at the very least, made out on arthur conan doyle's grave (but it's implied they went all the way)

he is a fan of like. all of the sports. i cannot keep up with them all, but he sure can

he had his first case at the age of 28, where an agent died because he wouldn't take a risky shot

(and he remembers everything about the man who died- his kids, their ages, what they do for fun- all of it haunts him)

((he also, at the trial for the man who killed the agent, screamed that he "should die like an animal, you son of a bitch"- so much for cool and composed spooky mulder))

he always falls asleep on his couch to the point where i don't even know if this man has a bed

before being moved to the x-files, he worked for 3 years at the behavioral science unit, where he profiled serial killers

(also literally no one wants him on the x files they just keep him around because he is too dangerous to fire lmao)

he will go out of his way to make any kids involved a case he's assigned to feel comfortable and/or laugh as a break from the Heavy Moments (probably because he remembers being questioned while very young and how awful it felt)

he believes that siblings have a psychic connection (heartbreaking when you remember his sister disappeared when he was 12 and he only has access to the memories due to hypnosis)

he refused to let his parents call him by his first name and only went by "mulder", even as a child

[bloodfreak-boyking]

one of my absolute favorite wincest fic dynamics is when sam has been thinking about doing the nastiest, most wretched things to dean since like forever and has desired him carnally since he knew what that meant, and dean is just like "wow, never noticed how hot my brother is. shame i can't do anything about it bc we're brothers." meanwhile Sam is like locked in the bathroom licking the floor of the shower bc dean just got out. love it when sam is a freak ab his brother in a way that fucking blindsides dean <333

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

I really like kafhoshi ... it good.... Ther s so much potential and so much material to work with AND YET THERES LIKE NOTHING!!!!! *Rolls up my sleeves* gotta do everything myself in this damn house...

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[preciouslandmermaid]

spencer/reader + southern gothic aesthetic "I'm just a child, but I'm not above violence My mama raised me better than that..."

the mosquitoes and frogs sing their discordant symphony above the rustling oak leaves and Spanish moss that drape over branches like abandoned wedding veils. you push your toes on the damp floorboards and the rocking chair tilts backward, and your stomach lurches as you sway forward. the old book on your lap with yellowed pages and a musty scent lays open like a vivisected hare. a gnat lands on the corner of the page and you try to flick it away. you accidentally killed it and your brows furrow softly. the hinges on the screen door squeak and you break your monotonous rhythm, the rocking chair sway cut short. "garcia says we're lucky we have cell service," spencer says, with his hands in his pockets, before his eyes flick to your lap, "what're you reading?" "mm." you nod. "nice of the chief to let us use his house." you close the book and self-consciously wipe the title with your hand (the one that killed the gnat). "did you know that franz kafka didn't want bugs on the cover of his book?" "you're reading 'the metamorphosis'," he guesses. "it's a comfort read," you say, shrugging, your toes pushing the floorboards again. spencer slowly sits in the rocking chair beside you and you silently return to the symphonies of the moist, summer night. at least - you do until spencer starts talking about his interpretation of the novel and you listen, your eyes focused on the harsh, slice of darkness where the porch light doesn't reach.

[writingjourney]

You don’t have to write incredibly kinky fics. You don’t have to write smut fics at all. You can write sweet romantic fics. You can write platonic fics. You can write comfort fics or slice of life. I know fandom spaces make it seem like there’s an unspoken contest about who can write the horniest most fucked up fics but you don’t have to join in if you don’t want to. You should write what makes you happy, you should write what you feel comfortable with and not what an imaginary audience wants. Your favorite characters can be whatever you want them to be, fanon is all made up anyway.

[porcelana-r0ta]

I know the respective fandoms of DC and Miraculous Ladybug have a certain disdain for MLxDC fics but I think there's a potential for fics where Luka leaves Paris and just keeps traveling to different US cities because he keeps figuring out secret identities and he's just this 15 year old kid growing increasingly frustrated and exasperated at how badly everyone hides their identities and he just has to pretend to be oblivious even tho it's Their Fault for being Bad At Secrets and shouldn't adults be better at this??????

[deus-and-the-machina]

ngl I might get crucified for this but I think the dunmeshi yuri/yaoi discourse was stupid and misrepresenting the ao3 factoids. as of today the most written for mlm ship is labru with 69 (nice) and the next most popular has less then half that at 31. meanwhile farcille has 125 out of the 154 F/F ships in the tag. it is by FAR the most popular ship, with the next two most written about sapphic ships being marcille/izutsumi (9) and kiki/namari (4) and also a couple of x readers? so farcille dominates by far

it seems to me that what's going on is that several mlm ships are in rotation in terms of popularity whereas farcille dominates as the singularly popular wlw ship.

and this doesnt mean that the issues people were bringing up about the general lack of sapphic content and the way fandom treats female characters aren't valid, but idk man when farcille fanart is cropping up daily and getting thousands of notes and has about twice more the amount of fics that the most popular mlm ship on ao3 has its like. I dont think this is really a fandom that proves that point.

I would like to see some more variation in smaller wlw pairs to make up the difference though! I dont think I see any tade/izutsumi fics and we need to change that they could be so cute.

[koinotame]

a lot of scenarios where the dom initiates and kind of forces an uncomfortable sub into doing stuff in public/semi-public spaces but tbh i'd really like to see some where the sub is the one to do so. and honestly more predatory/nasty subs that ignore boundaries or push their limits instead of the dom being the one to do that in general

[charmwasjess]

you know what this is about. so, without further ado: i'll let u pick between

Jocasta + tikken (tooka kitten)

and

Rael + shrimp cocktail

RAEL + SHRIMP COCKTAIL IT IS

Furthering my beloved "Dooku wouldn't know SHIT about fancy rich people stuff in his Jedi era" agenda. I got the idea for this because I literally watched a friend do the thing at the end.

*

“Finally.” The two Jedi crash into the backseat of the airtaxi, tangling as a pair of very long legs and two shorter, albeit slightly more intoxicated ones try to find room in the tight space. The droid driver acknowledges their Temple destination coordinates, and, with a lurch and swoop, they join the Coruscanti traffic and leave the heat and noise of the event behind them. 

“What an utter, unconscionable disaster,” Dooku, usually the architect of such disasters on missions, announces before Rael can even put his standard distracting-him protocols in place. “A complete farce.” 

“Aw, Master, it wasn’t so bad…” 

Rael’s both lying and stalling, of course, trying to figure out which point of failure Dooku is even so upset about. If it’s related to Rael’s own misbehavior, or some social misstep of Dooku’s, or both. 

“Really?” Dooku’s voice rises incredulously. He’s going wide: his internal targets expanding beyond the particulars into the concept itself, his exhaustion warring with his need to deliver a scathing monologue about the very existence of such fancy political events. “An egregious waste of taxpayer resources with no purpose but pageantry, overindulgence in liquor and ego in equal measures. And both tedious and invasive! For a Jedi of my position? The delegation from Mandriss clearly felt they were entitled to my entire life story.”

“Hmm.”

“And,” Dooku’s tone is aghast now, detailing the worst of the worst, “why do they even have that fork?” 

Rael’s been doing the dutifully-listening Padawan bit, since it seems Dooku is just upset in general, not mad at him specifically, but the fork thing makes him snort. Too bad he wasn’t there to see whatever Dooku did with the fork. 

“And you?” Dooku rounds on him. “Where were you? You left me trapped with that governor!” 

Whoops. Distraction protocol. “I thought the whole thing was that you needed to talk to the governor. Fact-finding stuff. I was giving you space to work your magic!” 

“Talk to him? Yes. I needed a single piece of information from him. But our good governor would simply not…” shut up is the sentiment that flashes like heat lightning behind Dooku’s clouded presence, but of course, his dear Master would never say such a thing, so he simply groans into his hands and continues his internal combustion. 

It’s a little funny, or would be, if Rael didn’t actually feel bad for Dooku. Tall and elegant with a holostar’s velvet voice and a legitimate family connection to royal governance on Serenno, his Master makes an obvious choice to represent the Order at the occasional high-end political function. Except Rael knows Dooku’s heart is made for the battlefield, not the banquet hall. He actually loves that about him.

“I feel wretched,” Dooku admits, massaging his temples. His righteous outrage seems to be collapsing into ennui. 

Odd. When they first started together as Master and Padawan, Rael thought Dooku was a complete stoic: an unfeeling mountain. Once you got to know him though, it was actually amazing how much bitching the man was capable of. Maybe it was that Dooku treated Rael differently now than he had when he was a little kid. There weren’t actually so many years between eighteen and twenty-nine. 

“Yeah, yeah, you feel bad ‘cause you didn’t eat hardly anything.” Rael doesn’t have to guess: Dooku has that exact flavor of cranky that has the aftertaste of emptiness and unacknowledged need that always just made everything worse.

Dooku glowers at him. 

Rael slings an arm around his shoulders, affection –or possibly the several atomic sting shots he’d taken with the bridesmaids - bubbling up in his chest. Hell, he loves this old man.

“Here,” Consoling now, Rael fishes into his robe pocket. “Want some shrimp?” 

“Shrimp?”

He holds out the upsettingly pink offering for Dooku. Five nice, plump cocktail shrimp. Only a little warm from his body heat. Better that way, really. 

Dooku is quiet. 

“Got the cocktail sauce in the other pocket.” 

Rael can’t decide if it is awe or horror dawning in his Master’s eyes. Hell, maybe it’s both. 

“They weren’t… even serving shrimp?” That deep, polished voice of Dooku’s is oddly faint. 

Yeah. Maybe not at the event Dooku was at. Now, at the wedding party taking place on the event space’s lower level, on the other hand… Rael fixes on his widest, most appealing grin. 

A Master may keep a few private secrets, Dooku is sometimes fond of saying, usually about something totally obvious to Rael, like the source of the occasional mark on his collarbone, the one that's always the exact same size and shape as Sifo-Dyas’s mouth. 

Well, Rael figures, a Padawan can keep some too. 

Dooku glances between his open palm and his smile, calculations happening behind his eyes. 

It doesn’t matter. Rael already knows he’s going to eat the shrimp.