#let people create stuff on the internet

[coconut530]

GOODBYE, TECH CULT. LOVE YOU 💛🧨❤️🫲🖤

[monster-noises]

Auguh not to get too Hopless Shell of a Man on you but i'm trying to find a daydream to get lost in to lull myself to sleep but i'm finding I can't.

Cause the kind of daydream that puts me to sleep have always been more aspirational, if grandiose and slightly unrealistic, explorations of like.. what my dream house would look like, hanging my art up in a new-bigger better- apartment, what my table would look like at a con, or my work in a small gallery or art show..

but it's at the point where i can't suspend my disbelief enough anymore to indulge in the Premise of most of these things because Every Ounce of possibility has been squeezed out of these things.

And maybe i'm just really too depressed and there's something i'm not seeing but god it's Really Fucking Bad Out here if My can-imagine-anything-like-it-could-happen-tomorrow-regardless-of-probability Ass can't even daydream myself to sleep because it's... Just not realistic!!!! Like i know we already know that but damn!!!! My mental health is in shambles and almost all of the causes are external and i can't control them!

[askshivanulegacy]

Posts like these always strike me as ... off-key somehow.

As a writer and an artist, I began posting my work because it was there.

I draw for myself. I write for myself.

I post because I CAN. Because my work is available and there's no reason not to. Because I can have a neatly organized portfolio that I can share if I ever want. Because I just like scrolling through my thumbnails on my art sites or my summaries on A03.

They show progress and achievement.

I don't need anyone else to tell me what I've achieved.

Two decades ago, well before A03 was ever a real thing, when I was doing a lot of my late night reading and thinking, I realized something foundational.

Your stories - my stories - connect you with the reader. For a short moment in time, you are the same. You have the same thoughts and feelings and goals and dreams. That author you're reading understands you on a level you might never be able to articulate to anyone, and you understand them. That means there's a person, somewhere on the planet that identifies with your most secret feelings.

And that's true for every story. And that's true whether you can say anything to the author about it or not.

And that means every story is worth sharing, even if just one person out there loves it, even if they never say so. It's worth it, for that one, silent person.

You don't need people to tell you that you have an impact for that impact to be very real.

And that's beautiful. It means everything.

The other piece of creation is that you, as a creator, cannot outsource your happiness.

There's nothing wrong with encouraging engagement, but you simply have no say in it. It's not something you can control or influence. Whether you post or don't post, it will not affect what other people do about it.

There is a harmful trend of creators deciding they NEED engagement. They become addicted to it and suddenly the only reason they create is for attention. The only reason they post is for attention. And because they've outsourced their happiness but can't control it, they crash and burn if they don't get whatever levels of engagement they've decided they want.

You, as a creator, need to find internal motivation. You need to develop the basic strength to be satisfied with your work. You need to develop a healthy relationship with your work.

Yes, it's a crying shame that readers/viewers do not bother to provide feedback. But you also cannot allow the actions of other random people to dictate what you do. You will ALWAYS end up disappointed. They will never perform up to your standards.

There is at least one person out there who was changed by your work, and that means something, even if they haven't said so. It's more important than sitting on your creations for no real reason other than someone you don't know not doing something very specific.

You can always do what you want with your stuff. If you don't want to share, then it's a choice. But is not sharing because you're bitter about unspecified randos really how you want to do it? Are you going to let bitterness dictate what you do? Or are you going to make your decisions for yourself?

You can only ever make an impact and you can only ever get feedback, however rare, by sharing.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[alpaca-clouds]

Why the media CEOs will always learn the wrong lessons

Yesterday a friend and I talked about how the entire (AAA) game industrie looked at BG3 being as popular as it is and going: "Oh, we need to produce 100+ hour games, I guess! Those sell!" Which... obviously is not why it is popular. The game is not popular because it has 100+ hours of gameplay, but because it has engaging characters, that are well-acted and that work as good hooks for the players. Like, let's face it: The reason why I so far have sunken 160 hours into this game is, because I wanna spend time with these characters - and because I wanna give them their happy endings.

But the same has happened too, just a bit earlier this year, right? When Barbie broke the 1 billion and every Hollywood CEO went: "Oh, so the people want movies based on toy franchises! Got it!" To which the internet at large replied: "... How is that the lesson you learned from this?"

Well, let me explain to you, why this is the lesson they learn: It is because the CEOs and the boards of directors at large are not artists or even engaged with the medium they produce. They mostly are economists. And their dry little hearts do not understand stuff more complex than numbers and spread sheets.

That sounds evil, I know, but... It is sadly the truth. When they look at a successful movie/series/game/book/comic, they look at it as a product, not a piece of art or narrative. It is just a product that has very clear metrics.

To them Barbie is not a movie with interesting stylistic choices that stand out from the majority of high budget action blockbusters. It is a toy movie with mildly feminist themes.

Or Oppenheimer is not a movie to them with a strong visual language and good acting direction. No, it is a historical blockbuster.

And this is true for basically every form of media. I mean, books are actually a fairly good example. In my life I do remember the big book fads that happened. When Harry Potter was a success, there was at least a dozen other "magical school" book series being released. When Twilight was a big success there was suddenly an endless number of "teen girl falls in love with bad boy, who is [magical creature]" YA. When the Hunger Games was a success, there were hundreds of "YA dystopia" books. Meanwhile in adult reading, we had the big "next Game of Throne" fad.

Of course, the irony is, that within each of those fads there might have been one or two somewhat successful series - but never even one that came even close to whatever started the fad.

Or with movies, we have seen it, too. When Avengers broke the 1 billion (which up to this point only few movies did) the studios went: "Ooooooh, so we need shared universe film series" - and then all went to try and fail to create their own cinematic universe.

Because the people, who call the shots, are just immensely desinterested in the thing they are selling. They do not really care about the content. All they care about is having a supposedly easy avenue of selling it. Just as they do not care about the consumer. All they care about is that the consumer buys it. Why he buys it... Well, they do not care. They could not care less, in fact.

So, yeah, get ready for a 20 overproduced games with a bloated 100+ hours of empty gameplay, but without the engaging characters. And for like at least 15 more moves based on some toy franchise, that nobody actually cares about.

And then get ready for all the CEOs to do the surprised Pikachu face, when all of that ends up not financially successful.

Really, I read some interviews yesterday from some AAA-studio CEOs and their blatant shock and missing understanding on why BG3 works for so many people.

Because, yeah... capitalism does not appreciate art. Capitalism does not understand art. It only understands spread sheets.

[andypantsx3]

MR. TOKYO BEAT HOTTEST HERO : SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Shouto finds out he’s hot. He swiftly uses this knowledge against you. CONTENT & WARNINGS: pro hero au, established relationship, afab reader (no pronouns used), shouto's general obliviousness, todoroki shouto is a little shit, fluff, aged-up characters, smut, nipple play, vaginal sex, emotional sex, 18+ minors please dni! (3.8k)

Pro Hero Shouto Voted Tokyo Beat’s Hottest Hero of the Year

It’s been almost six years since Todoroki Shouto swept onto the scene as pro hero Shouto, melting almost as many villains as he has hearts. Currently standing at number four in the hero rankings, he’s armed with a formidable ice-and-fire combination quirk nearly as devastating as his smile.

Shouto’s heartthrob status has created such a sensation that he’s papered the pages of our magazine hundreds of times since his UA days. Now he’s taking home the coveted Hottest Hero crown… [read more]

It was a frosty night in early December when Shouto returned from patrol, looking uncharacteristically ruffled.

To an outside observer, his expression probably looked as bland as ever. But years into your relationship, you knew how to read your boyfriend’s microexpressions—the tiniest furrowing of his brows, the softest downward hitch of that perfect, plush mouth. He looked troubled—more troubled than you’d seen him in a while.

You turned off the heat on the stove, abandoning the dinner you’d been preparing, and rushed over to him as he shed his boots at the door. He’d apparently already changed out of his hero uniform at the agency, dressed instead in the high-collared gray coat that always made him look like he’d wandered out of the pages of a J. Crew catalog. He shrugged his coat off in tandem with his backpack, the tiny frown still carving his lips.

“Shouto—what’s wrong? Are you alright?” you asked, immediately taking his face in your hands.

Shouto blinked down at you, twin points of blue and silver fixing on your face. To your satisfaction, his expression seemed to soften, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth instead, and he murmured your name in greeting, his tone low and soft.

“Did something bad happen on patrol?” you asked. “You look troubled.”

Two warm, big hands came up to encompass your own, his thumbs smoothing over the backs of your fingers. You let him pull your hands away from his face to hold in his own, and he pressed a kiss to the knuckles of one, his mouth sweet and hot on your skin.

You flushed. Despite the years you’d been together, you had never been able to establish any sort of immunity to Shouto. If anything, the crush you’d had on him before you’d gotten together had only grown more out of control the longer you were exposed to him—-you still got butterflies whenever he looked at you with a fraction more intensity than normal.

“Hello, love,” he said, his mouth lingering over your skin.

Your stomach swooped, and your face got hot. Damn him.

“Hi Sho,” you backtracked. “I’m happy you’re home. But seriously, did something happen?”

Shouto’s fingers tightened around yours, and a little wrinkle appeared between his brows. “Not on patrol. Something else… unexpected happened.”

You watched him, waiting for him to elaborate.

His eyes roved over you, as if searching for the appropriate words on your face, until he seemed to find the right question. “Am I… do people consider me handsome?”

There was a moment of stunned silence before an incredulous laugh burst out of you.

The most beautiful man on earth, the internet’s steadfast boyfriend—the literal stuff of wet dreams, lurid fantasies, and thousands of covert sessions with a vibrator—was asking if he was considered handsome.

You knew Shouto had never been interested in his own beauty, blinking at compliments as if unsure how to receive them, generally oblivious to anyone hitting on him as though he thought people were that friendly to everyone, never spending any significant time in front of the mirror unless it was to stare at you next to him in the reflection, undoing your hair or washing your face or brushing your teeth.

But to be so unaware of his own looks that he was asking you?

“Shouto, you know you’re handsome,” you said. “I tell you all the time.”

The wrinkle between Shouto’s brows deepened. “You think so because you love me. But—I meant… do other people who do not love me think so?”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline, floored by this line of questioning. “Shouto—every single person on earth thinks you are like the hottest man alive. Are you for real?”

Shouto blinked, those gray and blue eyes growing a fraction wider. “They do?”

You nodded, surprise coloring your tone. “Yeah—you didn’t know? Sero calls you ‘pretty boy’ to tease you like all the time. You get hit on every time you leave the house. You have twitter accounts dedicated to you.”

A tiny pout crept onto Shouto’s mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered. “I thought he said it as a joke. And I thought those accounts were fans of my work. And I thought… you only thought so because you love me.”

You laughed. Shouto’s good looks were as serious as a heart attack. So serious they might just induce one, in fact. And you did love him, and would love him no matter what he looked like—his inside was just as beautiful as his outside, and would always make him attractive to you. He was so kind, so thoughtful, and so inherently bone-deep good in so many ways that made your heart swell just looking at him.

Truly he was love-you-even-if-you-were-a-worm material. But this was no laughing matter.

“What’s brought this question on now?” you asked.

Shouto blinked again, looking slightly startled, then turned to his backpack. He produced a glossy magazine with a sticky note stuck to it, covered in his manager’s handwriting that read: check out page 43 >:). Just over the sticky note, two very familiar heterochromatic eyes peered out intensely from the magazine’s cover.

You peeled away the note to see your boyfriend’s face in full—his expression handsome and solemn. The shot must have been taken sometime post-rescue as he had smudges of ash all along his high cheekbones, and his hair was windswept, and a little piecey, like he’d just finished using phosphor. A headline next to his ear proclaimed, Todoroki Shouto: Tokyo Beat’s Hottest Hero Alive!

You looked back up at Shouto to find both of his ears red, though his expression was determinedly blank-faced. A grin yanked at your mouth.

“Well someone who works there has eyeballs,” you said, laughing. “Congratulations, Shouto!”

The scarlet at the tips of Shouto’s ears deepened. “I do not… I did not expect…”

Your smile grew larger, fondness blooming in your chest. He was so good you wanted to bite him. Of course he never expected anything like this—his concerns were tied to his heroics—had he saved enough people, was he living up to the hero he wanted to be? Even when he’d finally broken the top five earlier last month, he was only pleased to be so recognized because he wanted many people to be reassured by him, not out of any sense of competitiveness with his fellow heroes.

He would never think of anything like this—he was so fucking good.

“I always thought—my scar,” Shouto said, touching his face.

Your heart squeezed and you wormed your fingers under his, placing your hand over the scar in question.

“Your scar is a part of your face and a part of your identity. But to be real with you, it only makes you look more interesting, Sho.” Your own ears heated. “To be completely honest it’s—well it’s one thing that makes you look human. You kind of look, um, unnaturally handsome otherwise, like some kind of vampire or angel or something. When I say things like you’re too handsome to be allowed I actually mean it, you know.”

Shouto paused, those heterochromatic eyes flickering back down to yours. A scarlet eyebrow quirked slightly. “Then you also think that I am handsome,” he said, though it was phrased more like a revelation to him than a question.

“Did you think I was lying?” you asked hotly.

Shouto shook his head minutely. “No—but I did not realize. You found me handsome before you loved me?”

You laughed. “I had eyeballs before I loved you, so yeah. And I wouldn’t be so effusive all the time if I didn’t mean it. You think when I tell you stuff like that that I’m just playing it up?”

Shouto’s expression went suddenly blank, like a marker board suddenly erased of nefarious plans. Instantly, your hackles raised, the smile falling off your mouth, your senses suddenly screaming danger. Shouto might be the most trustworthy, reassuring, and beautiful pro hero of all time, but beneath the surface lurked a youngest child and a major little shit. His expression only ever changed like this when he was about to get up to something.

“Then you think I am so handsome you cannot think,” Shouto said.

The magazine suddenly crackled in your fingers as you clutched it between you. “What.”

Shouto moved a step closer, gaze sharpening. “When you said I was so handsome you cannot think. You meant it.”

A sound like a nervous cow escaped you as you backed up a few steps. “Did I say that?”

A tiny smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth again, a cross between something sincerely pleased and sincerely shit-eating.

“When you said I am so handsome that sometimes your brain goes static,” he said, his tone dropping low, prowling closer. “You meant it.”

You flushed hot. Hearing your words repeated back to you like that was so embarrassing.

You flailed when your back hit the wall, and Shouto stretched out an arm, blocking you in. You couldn’t help the way your eyes flicked to his bicep for a split second, admiring the way it flexed slightly under the sleeve of his shirt as he pressed his hand to the wall, the way the kitchen light shadowed it lovingly.

Shouto’s ears were even redder when you looked back at him, but his gaze was hungrier. He’d definitely noticed your inspection, and his newfound realization about your level of appreciation was clearly both pleasing but embarrassing.

“You said your brain does not work right when I am close,” Shouto said, his face looming near. “Am I doing it right?”

He was doing it right—terribly, horribly, awfully right. Your breath caught in your lungs, lights in your brain winking out one by one as that soft, perfect mouth hovered just over yours. Shouto was so warm this close, and you could feel all the fibers in your body straining towards him like plants unfurling under the sun.

You rallied yourself one last time, throwing your hands up, defeated. “I live with a literal Greek sculpture of a boyfriend, am I not supposed to admire the artwork?”

Shouto didn’t respond. Instead, you saw the smile on his lips widen a fraction, just before his mouth captured yours.

In the space of a heartbeat he’d pressed himself against you, trapping you against the wall just as your knees went to pudding. You could feel every part of him against you and you couldn’t think, all your thoughts slipping away, dissolving like sugar in water. Shouto’s hands came up to support your waist, pinning you against the wall as he kissed you so sweetly and so very thoroughly.

“Is this it, love?” he asked when he pulled back, something both smug and wondering in his tone. “Am I doing it right?”

You scraped the bottom of your mind for any fragments of human language with which to respond. “You always do it right, you little shit.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked in a smile again, and he leaned in to press it to the side of your throat, lips moving softly. You shivered in his hands and felt the way his smile widened on your skin.

You could practically feel delight pouring off of him, this discovery of his new power—a power he’d always had but never understood in full.

It figured Shouto’s beauty would only interest him insofar as he could deploy it against you.

But that was Shouto. Everything he had was something he used in service to others.

Shouto’s mouth mapped a hot trail down your throat, and you clung to his shoulders as his lips dipped under the collar of your shirt and sucked, softly but insistently. One of his hands left its place at your hip to slide up your stomach and beneath the fabric of your shirt, cupping the side of your breast.

He wasn’t touching anything, but the feeling of his hand, warm and strong and so very large that it spanned over your chest and ribcage, sucked all the oxygen right out of the air. You bit back a noise as Shouto left another mark beneath your collar, his long eyelashes fluttering against the skin of your throat as he let out his own soft groan.

“I thought you were beautiful, too, before I loved you,” Shouto said as his fingers traced the outline of your bra, just barely skimming the skin underneath.

Your ears went hot, the way they always did when Shouto got sincere in place of dirty talk. It was even hotter than the filthiest thing he could have said to you, because you knew he meant every single word of it.

“But now I love you, you are even more beautiful to me,” he said. “Is it the same for you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but cut off on a moan as Shouto’s fingers finally found their way beneath your bra, his thumb swiping over your nipple. Your head thunked back against the wall when he did it again, pinching gently as his other hand covered your other breast, mirroring the action.

Heat streaked through your veins, pooling in your core. You bit your lip as Shouto played with you, feeling those heterochromatic eyes hot on your face.

“Answer me, love,” he commanded gently.

You peeked open an eye, realizing you’d squeezed them shut, shuddering as Shouto’s thumbs swiped over your nipples again, the touch perfect and maddening. Shouto was watching you intently, as he always did, but there was an extra dimension of interest, as if he truly did not know, truly wanted to know what you would say.

“Yes,” you told him, your tone hitching higher as he gently rolled your nipples in his long, pretty fingers. “Yes I—oh!—only find you more incredibly handsome every day—ah! Shouto!”

Shouto looked pleased, leaning forward to layer a kiss over your mouth as he played with your nipples. You squirmed under his hands, panting into his mouth, the touches already overwhelming. After years together, he knew exactly how to work you.

A strong thigh slid in between your own as Shouto pressed himself closer to you. You kissed him fiercely, huffing tiny embarrassing noises into his mouth, grinding against his thigh.

“Fuck, love,” Shouto groaned as he grew hard against your hip. You felt like you were floating, thoughts distant, the only present idea the feeling of Shouto’s strong body over yours. He was all over you but you wanted more, wanted to climb inside him and make your home there, wanted him to press inside of you and fill you and claim you and keep you—

“Shouto, bed—please, please—” you managed, before Shouto was hefting you in his arms obligingly.

He dumped you on the bed with a little less finesse than usual, following you down hungrily, weighing you into the sheets.

He made short work of your clothes, and you were bare to him in what felt like seconds. Shouto’s mouth immediately sought your breast again, closing over your nipple as his fingers dipped inside of you. You writhed with the heat of him over you, the heat of his mouth on you, the gentle press of him inside of you.

His thumb brushed over your clit as his tongue did something mind-bending over your nipple, and a moan escaped you, high and shivery. Shouto’s huff across the skin of your chest told you that it had pleased him, and he sucked a little more firmly, a little more insistently.

“Shouto, Shouto, Shouto—” you babbled mindlessly, hands sliding all over him. You wanted to touch him but you couldn’t reach him in return, so you settled for sliding your fingers into his hair, clinging as he made stars fizzle under your skin.

“Shouto—I’m going to come—you have to stop if you want to—ah!” you squeaked, as Shouto rubbed you more purposefully, moving over your clit in the way he knew you liked. His fingers moved inside you unrelentingly as he licked and sucked you slowly, the contrast between his mouth and his fingers too much for you.

Your pleasure rolled over you like a wave, rushing through your veins, pooling in all your limbs. You seized up under Shouto, but his weight held you down, his mouth and fingers working you through it.

You were still whining with sensitivity when he worked his own clothes off and slid into you, filling you up with the familiar shape of him. Your whine trailed into another moan, the feeling of him so utterly perfect inside of you.

“I don’t need anyone to think I am handsome but you, love,” Shouto said, canting his hips up so that he slid in and out of you. “All I want is you.”

You shifted, wrapping your legs around his back, pulling him deeper inside of you. “I know—Shouto, you’re beautiful inside and out. I love everything about you. Your face, your voice, your kindness, your goodness,” you paused as he filled you again, grinning up at him. “Your di—”

A powerful thrust had you choking off into a squeak, and you clutched his bicep as Shouto smiled down at you, his own grin charming and mischievous. You thought he was especially handsome just like this—panting, flushed, grinning, glorious—the way no one else got to see him but you. Mr. Tokyo Beat Hottest Hero he may be, but people still would never know how truly beautiful he could be, grinning down over you.

That was all yours.

Shouto wormed an arm between your back and the mattress, catching your waist and pulling you into him. The new angle had him brushing against your clit as he slipped in and out of you, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when you caught sight of where you were joined together, Shouto’s abs flexing tightly as he moved back and forth within you.

Sounds of pleasure slipped out of you, and Shouto caught them in his mouth. You kissed him back, clinging to his shoulders, pulling him closer. You reveled in the feeling of his hot skin on yours, shivering in delight with the contrast of his heat and the cool room around you.

Shouto’s hips worked into you, chasing both of your pleasure, his strokes fluid and sure. Those long fingers slid down your body again to press ever-so-slightly over your clit, and you bucked into his hand, delirious with the feeling of him pressing against you from both the inside and out. With the heavy weight of him over you it was like he was all around you, all over you, in your mouth, in your sex, overwhelming you.

You writhed against him, babbling a string of nonsense when he let your mouth free. Praise about how beautiful he was, about how good he was, about how good he felt, about how much you loved him.

Shouto breathed his own praise into your ear, his mouth closing around the lobe. He told you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, how even if everyone liked the way he looked it was “all for you, love—everything is for you.”

His fingers slid in soft circles around your clit as he ground into you, kissing his way up your throat. You panted into the dim of your bedroom, little stars sparking in the corner of your vision. It felt like someone had lit a sparkler beneath your skin, a thousand tiny points of fizzing, burning friction, and Shouto was touching every single one of them.

“Cum for me, love,” Shouto commanded, his tone soft and low, kissing the underside of your jaw.

You couldn’t speak, could only nod, nearly there. His fingers kept toying with you, expert and unrelenting, and in another few seconds the wave of your pleasure was mounting again. It swept over you like a tidal wave, smashing through you, sweeping through every limb, every nerve ending.

You cried out Shouto’s name, clenching around him, and then he was abandoning your clit to pull you up into him, grinding hard. His pace grew faster, more frantic, and he panted into your throat, until he was following you off the edge, pouring himself into you, filling you up from the inside.

You shivered and shook against him until finally the wave of your pleasure crested. Shouto relaxed over you as your limbs went slack too. He pressed a kiss to your mouth, slow and languid.

“Definitely Tokyo’s hottest hero,” you said muzzily, your words a little slurred. “The world’s hottest hero, even.”

Shouto huffed a tiny laugh. “I only need to be your hottest hero,” he told you, his heterochromatic eyes pinning you earnestly.

You smiled up at him, running a hand absently through his scarlet and white mop of hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers.

“You always have been. Before I loved you, but especially now that I love you this much,” you told him.

Shouto smiled, then, a pleased, half-moon grin, so beautiful and so clever that it knocked the wind right back out of you again. You leaned up to kiss him again, soaking in his private beauty, pleased that you out of everyone got to have him like this. And you would make him feel it again—you wanted to show him again how much he meant to you.

He was Tokyo Beat’s Hottest Hero—but he was your most beautiful, beloved, cherished hero. And that was a thousand times better. So you’d show him a thousand times over.

You rolled over him, delighting in the slight widening of those beautiful eyes, the tiniest quirk of interest on that perfect mouth.

You’d show him—starting right now.

[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

[bunnys-kisses]

Hey lovely, can I please have a butter tart with a coffee and whatever's on the house served by Lestappen?🤍

bakery menu

please request your own! there's ton of items on the menu for you to pick! (with more coming in the near future!!). *quiet voice* thank you lovely anon. basically i wanted to do a lestappen & reader three-way rivalry that would make me lose it. this order is on the house for doing me a solid, please come back another time and order again!

butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house (aftercare) served by max verstappen & charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, lestappen, threesome, rivals au, dirty talk, aftercare, teasing, hot stuff (!!), various sexual acts mentioned

the sun, the moon and the stars.

the trio that ended formula one the same time. from three different parts of the world, three different past experiences and histories, but all with the same goal.

you all wanted to win. simple as that.

on camera, it felt like the three of you were in a league of your own. to settle scores that were etched into your psyche during your karting youth. max would get a little too close to charles, charles would make a snide comment before the final race, and you'd vague post about them online.

all to fuel this insatiable hunger that the media had to watch the three of you tear each other apart. a rivalry between the three celestial bodies that would tear the universe (or this case, formula one apart).

the rumours followed the three of you since you became in each other's orbit. over the past few years more images have resurfaced that only added to the "conspiracy" of your secret relationship. it was honestly quite fun to watch.

"someone tried to create a timeline in tiktok." charles shook his phone at you and max. you were both honestly impressed by how much the internet could cobble together.

a personal favourite photo of yours was a poorly saturated photo of charles and max at a club together. they both looked painfully drunk in the seats they were in. while that itself wasn't striking, what made it a favourite was that their faces were covered in kiss marks. all the way to the collar of their shirt.

this was often paired online with a few photos of you wearing the same shade of lipstick to events around the same time. it was a rich plum colour from what you remembered and you remembered that the marks didn't end at the collar of their shirts.

you had a bruise the size of a golf ball when you and charles ended up in a cramped bathroom stall.

you were thankful that some of the photos were lost to time. or rather an old hard drive on a laptop you kept buried in your apartment for fear of people finding the photos and videos. you didn't even trust a hammer to get rid of the evidence.

there was one file that was on your current phone however, that you painstakingly transferred. it was a video, you three at around twenty four, right after max's first champion win.

charles was between his legs, his mouth on max's cock while you standing beside them, filming the sexual scene while max's fingers were stuffed in your pussy. and that was one of the more tamer ones.

however, well into your racing careers. the rivalry still went strong. and sometimes, after a race. it all boiled over.

your teammate, george looked at you as he caught you leaving your hotel room. a small knapsack was filled to the brim with stuff. he sighed, "not this again. what, you're going to catch an uber and go see them?"

the relationship between you and the two other men was the worse open kept secret. you shrugged, "it's the dutch grand prix and max didn't completely fuck it up, you know how it goes."

not fucking it up meant that max won. but you couldn't give him the benefit of knowing that you lost. so, max just did well.

george replied, "just be smart... be safe, i guess. i don't know. i don't want drama because you three couldn't get along or be safe."

you replied with your best press smile, "aw, c'mon russell! the three of us are always at the center of drama. you're not new to this." he watched you turn away and head to the elevators.

at the hotel occupied by ferrari and red bull, you ended up at max's room. you bounced on your feet for a moment as you knocked. then waited for him to open the door. you then tapped your foot and almost called something before the door opened and max pulled you into the room.

he pushed you up against the back of the door once he was shut. he grabbed you by the face and pulled you into a searing kiss. you sometimes forgot how big his hands were until you had become painfully aware.

"where's charlie?" you asked when max pulled away from the kiss. you held onto his wrist for a moment.

"i want you to guess where he is." max replied.

"the fan girls swarming him."

"he was getting us some wine too." max made a face.

you replied, "well, i guess we can start without him." then started to strip when max let go of you. the two of you got naked quickly and onto the massive bed. max's hands were allover your naked body, the blankets provided some comfort against the air conditioned room.

you felt like you knew max's body as well as your own. you had touched it in so many ways over the years. you pressed yourself up against him and kissed him gently.

it really was the moon and the stars right now. but, they wouldn't be alone forever as a knock at the hotel room door pulled you away from one another. max got out of bed and answered the door.

"hey ma- why are you naked?" charles voice could be heard before he steeped in. he was pulled in by max. you moved a little bit to see through the doorway to the main room where the men were.

charles was holding a bottle of wine and smiled when he saw you. he said, "are you starting without me?" then turned to max, "you sent me out for wine so you could have first pick, right?"

"i would never! she just doesn't have the dedicated fan base you have." then headed back to the bedroom. charles followed closely behind him and was stripping his clothes. his shirt ended up with max's on the couch and his jeans were draped over some chair.

you got out from under the covers and charles almost choked on air at the sight of your naked body. not because it was horrible, but because it was just as beautiful as ever.

the sexual history between the three of you was a messy web. it felt like anyone who tried to get with one of you always failed. because if one of you tried to step out, the string that kept you tethered to one another always brought you back.

the two men got into bed with you and started to kiss at you warm skin. you felt a shudder run through you at the feeling of their lips on your skin.

"you fuckin' freaks." you purred as you giggled at the touches. you felt goosebumps across your skin as you rubbed your thighs together.

"ah what, are you mad that you came in sixth today?"

you looked over your shoulder at charles and said, "i should've ran you off the track, mister third."

max pulled your attention to him and said, "and what about me?" he chuckled as he held you jaw.

you held onto the other's shoulders and said, "ugh, i was hoping that something would come flying off. halfway through the race."

the men pressed against you even harder, their touches were getting harder. charles said, "i can't believe she said that about us. after everything we've done for her."

"i know. so ungrateful."

charles pulled your head back and pulled you in for a hot kiss. you felt both their erections up against your back which made you whine softly.

max chuckled, "i'm curious about what colours she'll end up wearing. when she is cheering from the sidelines."

you shuddered, "shut up, both of you. i'm not changing my last name and i'm sure as hell not marrying either of you." you tried to squirm out of their grasps.

but it only tightened and both men looked at each other. they could barely compose themselves and both of them started to howl in laughter, like you said the highlight of a comedy show.

"we're serious." charles said, low in your ear.

max chuckled lowly, "she'd be too stubborn, even if one of us got her pregnant, she'd give that kid her last name."

you looked at max, "yeah, exactly." and tensed up when max's finger dragged across your achy slit.

"verstappen is always available." max then pulled you in for another searing kiss and charles' voice was in your ear, the combination made your core throb. you hated how they knew all your weaknesses.

"i was thinking leclerc. i mean we'd still have this little arrangement. but i'm thinking a nice wedding in monaco, the whole thing. your team, my team, your family, my family. max."

he pulled away and said, "thanks." his tone was flat.

"no problem." he smiled at his rival before he went back to you and added, "i think it would be a lovely wedding. i think leclerc seems less... harsh than verstappen."

max rested his chin on your shoulder to look at charles, "to be good on the grid, you need a strong name." their eyes met and charles went in to kiss the other man.

you were perfectly sandwiched between them as they kissed. when they parted charles said, "don't worry, max. you can have my last name too."

you tapped your chin for a moment and said, "lovely offers you two, but i think i'm just going to stick with the last name i've had for my entire life. i don't need either of you to boost my legacy."

"right, right. it's not like you're going to marry anyone else outside of this." max said.

"oh yeah, most likely. i think we've entered the let's ruin ourselves for anyone else territory."

charles kissed the side of your neck, "don't say it like it's a bad thing."

you looked over your shoulder at him and raised your eyebrows, "i would like a husband at some point."

"then marry me." both men said in unison.

eventually the three of you got into position. your face buried in charles' lap while on your elbows and knees with max behind you. you looked up at charles who had his hand in your hair.

"you look good like this."

"next time." you said, "you're eating me out." your voice was pointed as if you weren't practically salivating at the chance to suck him off.

"there's no higher honour." he said as he held the back of your head before you started to kiss at his cock.

both men were impressive in size, not too crazy. nothing that would painfully scare someone or leave you with internal bruising.

"ready for me?" max asked.

you nodded as you continued to kiss at charles' cock. your hands on either side of his waist for leverage as you really sank your mouth down on it. you did arch your back and moan when max pushed his cock inside of you.

"neuken."

charles chuckled, he's heard that more than a few times in his life. with his hands tangled in your hair, he looked to the other man and said, "she still feels amazing."

"afraid you have competition, charles?" max replied, as if you hadn't spent time watching the two of them go after one another in the bedroom from time to time.

he made a face before he looked down to you and started to gently roll his hips. you knew exactly how to make these men squirm as you eagerly pleasured them.

max's thrusts were strong, but not fast. he was savouring his time inside of you. the tight heat of your pussy that he only found himself craving more as time went on.

you knew if the press even got a whiff of this, it would be such a media circus that you were certain that one of you would kill a reporter. that was why you still had that laptop, because the fear of the files being restored somehow even after a good wipe of the hard drive, was very real.

there were nudes of you, of max and of charles, sometimes all three of you together. there was one when the three of you were in amsterdam where it was you smoking a cigarette, presumably after sex and max was fast asleep and you were using his back to hold the hotel ashtray.

you knew there was a video of max waking charles up by putting his pussy slick covered fingers (thanks to you) in front of the man's face and whistling to him like a dog. the funny part was that it worked.

it would be a treasure trove of debauchery if anyone got their hands on it. the three of you were stupid little sex freaks, in a way you still were. except now with heftier pay checks and nice homes in expensive real estate.

you closed your eyes and let yourself just be fucked by the other two men. they were never truly mean. no slapping or hair pulling, and certainly no bruising.

you and max spent a whole season in the rumours section of gossip rags because of the amount of hickies that were seen on your neck. max even went as far as to leave one on the inner part of your wrist. charles thought that fiasco was funny, mostly because he wasn't in it.

"you feel so good." charles groaned.

max wrapped both of his strong arms around you and leaned over you, pressing you further into the bed. he rutted against you and kissed the back of you neck while you throat was full of charles' cock.

"she feels so fucking good." max said, "i think we've really lucked out. as good in the bedroom as she is on the grid."

charles chuckled, "if she was that good on the grid, she would've easily passed you today."

max kissed the side of your neck and shoved his cock as deep as it could go, "true, true." he kissed the side of your face,

the three of you moved together. the sounds of sex filled the hotel room, you had felt over the years since this started you have become more mature in your sexual proclivities. it wasn't a quick, messy fuck in some hall closet or a blow job in a car in an empty parking lot.

you three could take the time with each other. the three of you panted, moaned and groaned. you were wrapped up in the hot euphoria of sex.

the three of you were interlinked in ways that couldn't be fully explained. while it made for titillating headlines, there was a deeper under current of your relationship.

while most feuds between the two of you would be solved either through conversation or the heated moments of sex. there was a need for the three of you to push to your absolute limit.

while there were seventeen other drivers on the track, and you did have your feuds with them. you were tied to charles and max just as they were tied to you and each other.

a perfect triangle. in a strange reality where two of you were on the same team, it would be a clean sweep for the team. it was good that the three of you were on three different teams.

in all fairness, george, sergio and lewis probably would prefer the three of you somehow were on the same team. at least it would contain the bitching. (you knew they had their own group chat to figure out what the hell was going on between the three of you)

but it was hard to bitch when the three of you were in the bedroom.

both men were starting to lose steam, in all fairness, so were you. you could feel the head rush as you continued to charles' cock with max's cock hitting against your sensitive areas. you gripped the bed under you and kept it together long enough to orgasm.

charles was the first to finish, that was usually what happened. he ran so hot when he had sex that it clouded his mind and he easily finished down your throat, almost coming a second time when he saw how easily you swallowed it all up. he slumped against the headboard of the bed watched max continue to fuck you.

you were the second to cum, you gripped onto the bed wit your nose up in charles' pubic hair as you panted heavily. it was a throb in your body only made worse by max's persistent thrusting.

max watched both of his partners of a sexual bliss and continued to rut against you. he had been holding himself off to make sure that you two finished before he did. that was sort of what he did. but the sight of both of you was enough to send him over the end. and he finished inside of you with a last hard thrust.

"holy fuck." he panted as he felt the fight leave his body.

you felt a bit of your jaw ache as you laid there with your head on charles' thigh. max pulled out and got comfortable beside the other man.

charles play with your hair and said, "i think she's been spoiled."

max chuckled, "i think she's spoiled us. that was her plan all along."

you cracked an eye open at max before you leaned over to kiss him. right before you did, you said, "yeah max. it's been my evil plan for almost ten years."

max kissed you and charles' continued to play with your hair. the sun, the moon and the stars. the three celestial bodies of formula one. curled up in bed together.

-

both men laid in bed and shared a smoke while you cleaned yourself up. you always ran so painfully hot. while you got your hair out of your eyes after you dried it, you noticed that max's red bull shirt and charles' ferrari shirt were both left over the couch.

you heard both men talking in french, with the occasional sound of kissing. but your focus were on the shirts on the couch. a thought crossed your mind and you picked up your phone from the sink counter and snapped a picture.

you stared down at your phone for a moment. you should've probably pondered your options a little more before you uploaded the photo to your instagram story. "a stallion and a bull. yeah right." with a rolling eyes emoji. you posted it to your story then put your phone on silence before you headed back to the bedroom.

the fallout from that would be tomorrow's problem. <3

[empty-movement]

Welcome to Something Eternal: A Website Forum in 2023 wtf lmao

It's 2023, and a single belligerent rich guy destroyed one of the primary focal points of uh...global communication. Tumblr is, shockingly, kinda thriving despite the abuse it gets from its owners, but that I will call the iconic refusal of Tumblr users to let Tumblr get in the way of their using Tumblr. Reddit killed its API, removing the functionality of mobile apps that made it remotely readable (rip rif.) Discord, our current primary hangout, has made countless strange choices lately that indicate it has reached the summit of its usability and functionality, and can only decline from here as changes get made to prepare for shareholders. (NOTE: WROTE THIS POST BEFORE THEIR MOBILE "REDESIGN" LMAO)

The enshittification is intense, and it's coming from every direction. Social media platforms that felt like permanent institutions are instead slowly going to let fall fallow incredible amounts of history, works of art, thought, and fandoms. It kinda sucks!

A couple years ago, I posted about a new plan with a new domain, to focus on the archiving of media content, as I saw that to be the fatal weakness of the current ways the internet and fandoms work. Much has happened since to convince me to alter the direction of those efforts, though not abandon them entirely.

Long story short? We are launching a fucking website forum. In 2023.

If you remember In the Rose Garden, much about Something Eternal will be familiar. But this has been a year in the making, and in many ways it's far more ambitious than IRG was. We have put money on this. The forum is running on the same software major IT and technology businesses use, because I don't want the software to age out of usability within five years. It has an attached gallery system for me to post content to, including the Chiho Saito art collection. It has a profile post system that everyone already on the forum has decided is kinda like mini Twitter? But it is, fundamentally, a website forum, owned and run and moderated by us. We are not web devs. But we have run a website on pure spite and headbutting code for over twenty years, and we have over a decade of experience maintaining social spaces online, both on the OG forum, and on our Discord. Better skilled people with far more time than we have can and will build incredible alternatives to what is collapsing around us. But they're not in the room right now. We are. And you know what? Maybe it's time to return to a clunkier, slower moving, more conversation focused platform.

You're not joining a social media platform with the full polish of dozens of devs and automated moderation. Things might break, and I might need time to fix them. The emojis and such are still a work in progress. Because e-mails no longer route in reasonable normal ways, the sign-up process instead happens within the software, and has to be approved by mods. Design and structure elements may change. Etc. The point being, that the forum isn't finished, but it is at a place where I feel like I can present it to people, and it's people I need to help direct what functions and things will be in this space. You all will shape its norms, its traditions, its options...choices I could try to make now, but really...they're for us to create as a group! But the important stuff? That's there. Now let's drive this baby off the damn lot already!

Come! Join us!!

PS. As always, TERFs and Nazis need not apply.

[olderthannetfic]

hi, as someone who is tragically gen Z and only ever read AO3, can I ask: what was so great about LiveJournal? Like, I know that there were fics posted there (and I've even read about the "purge", so I get why it isn't used anymore) and that it was sort of a forum-type thing. But what I don't understand, wouldn't Tumblr fill in the latter function? How was that site any different? I see a lot of people reminiscing about it and I'm confused

--

A big factor in LJ's greatness is timing and nostalgia.

It was genuinely great, but it wasn't quite as great as all of the Lo, shall the Golden Age ne'er come again? posts suggest.

LJ arrived at a pivotal time in the development of the internet both in terms of technical stuff and how many people had access. Many fans who are now in their thirties to fifties first discovered fandom through LJ and many were at a time in their lives when they were feeling energetic and up to making lots of new friends—and to figuring out how to make a site work for them.

I got on LJ in 2002 when it required invites. Fandom arrived in droves in 2003, first via coordinated campaigns to get invites to key people and then when LJ opened up free account creation to everyone. Back then, LJ's features sucked. It was impossible to search properly, among other things. At its height (2005-7, let's say), there was a reasonable site search, and fans had developed all sorts of community resources for finding each other.

People often remember this phase but not the early days of suckitude.

This development parallels how Tumblr used to not have that private chat feature and how a lot of fuckyeah[whatever] type tumblrs have helped curate the site and make it much more usable for fans. Fandom draining away from LJ after strikethrough also parallels people draining away from Tumblr after the purge.

There are people who talk about Tumblr the way my cohort talks about LJ...

And to the shock of no one, they are people who came of age on Tumblr, who found fandom via Tumblr, who were on Tumblr during pivotal times in their lives and ones when they had energy to make friends and figure out how a site worked.

Those same Tumblrites are now making all the same geriatric-sounding posts we LJers do about how other sites lack the required features to be good for fandom while missing that 90% of tumblr's "features" at its height (2012-2016, let's say) were actually fan-created and were basically the same as any fandom newsletter or links page or all the versions of this kind of personal curation stretching back to long before the internet existed.

What life phase you hit a site at matters.

--

With all of that said, no, LJ was not a forum. It was a blogging site with threaded comments.

The key point to understand is that conversation was always happening in a specific person's space. Unlike on a true forum, people were in the comments on a particular post in a journal owned by another fan. (On a forum, there's the first post in a thread, but it's still more of a communal space with less of a hierarchy.)

Overall, the LJ format can have a feeling a bit like you're over at someone's house for tea. There's more of a sense of intimacy and also behaving yourself in front of community members.

Tumblr being obscure and impossible to find anything in does give it some of the same vibe relative to Twitter, but it's still part of modern social media that tries to shove every rando into the face of every other rando.

But it wasn't just vibes: LJ also had robust privacy features where you could lock a post to this or that group of friends. You could moderate your comments section properly. Tumblr has far fewer controls to force people to behave or leave on a technical level.

--

The biggest thing many people miss about LJ is the threaded comments. At least by late LJ and on Dreamwidth, you can expand and collapse threads, making it far easier to deal with a massive comments section. But more than that, things are properly threaded with multiple levels of hierarchy that are all easily visible in the same place.

On Tumblr, it used to be extremely difficult to find all of the actual commentary on a post. Nowadays, it's far easier, but you still have to scroll chronologically, and multiple versions of a post with a long chain of commentary may be much more divorced from each other than what would happen in a LJ comments section.

--

But could we use Tumblr pretty much how we used LJ?

We could.

I do.

--

The key things that people tend to miss about LJ, aside from the younger and more excited version of themselves or the friends they've lost since then, are:

Heavily text-based

It may sound odd on the modern internet, but there are a lot of people whose brains don't like or handle an image-heavy site well. They were everywhere in SF book fandom. They were everywhere on the early internet. Today, they're hanging out on Dreamwidth and still going to their SF cons. They're usually not on Tumblr.

You could follow the discussion

Threaded comments help, but a lot of it is about having some place you can check for updates. It wasn't actually that easy to follow big LJ discussions unless you were subscribed to comments and reading along as things were happening instead of coming along after the entire mass of comments had been left.

The tone of the discussion is intellectual and one's enemies are "idiots", not "problematic"

All this requires is a penchant for longwindedness and an itchy blocking finger to remove anyone slinging ad hominems from the comments section.

On tumblr, it's as simple as conversations happening in the replies on a popular account and that person not tolerating suibaiting and threats.

(And make no mistake, a lot of LJ discussion was in the comments on popular accounts, not spread equally between everyone's.)

It does require that multiple people like that tone and want to engage in that way, but lots of people do want to.

--

These days, I interact with tumblr by checking my askbox and reading my activity page. The vast, vast majority of my posts are ones where I'm the OP, so if I block someone, they're booted from the discussion entirely.

For me... yeah, Tumblr functions almost exactly like LJ.

Also like LJ, while I'm hosting the conversation, if you hang around, you'll see the same people again and again in the comments. They may or may not also host that kind of conversation in their space, and there's a larger pool of lurkers who have some notion of which people count as regulars. Other people are watching from the shadows, enjoying or deriding the takes of the usual crowd.

People presumably do like reading my lengthy commentary or they wouldn't be here, but my tumblr wouldn't be popular like this without a healthy pool of other people who chime in regularly. It's not just that there are more people: it's that you see the same people over time. There's a bit more sense of place and community than on some parts of the internet.

--

So, in my opinion, the failure to just recreate LJ fandom on Tumblr was a skill issue.

Threaded comments were great, but LJ culture came from mailing lists, and mailing lists had the same issue as tumblr with the diverging threads.

We solved that back then by clipping out only the parts we wanted to respond to (you'd write "snip" around the quotation to show it was incomplete). We solved the smaller LJ issue by linking to other posts we were referencing and doing discussion link roundups. We solve it on tumblr by, again, linking to what we're talking about and even quoting multiple reblog chains in our own reblog of just one chain.

--

Tumblr's technical features and even general crap-ness aren't really the problem. 90s and early 00s sites regularly went down for periods of time unthinkable today.

The missing piece is people.

When one is in an active fandom with others who curate or with friends who let one know what's up, a site with imperfect features is easy to figure out and retrofit for fandom's needs. When one already feels out of touch and is between fannish passions—or at least fannish passions anyone else cares about—seeing the potential in a new site is hard.

--

Threaded comments are different and better.

LJ's built-in way to see everyone's blog in your own style was better. The automatic timestamps and the ease of seeing a paginated archive of an entire blog was better than tumblr's endless scroll and lack of clear date labeling. But some of that can be fixed with xkit or knowing your way around tumblr well.

A lot of it is nostalgia for the lj era and a refusal to take the time to figure out how to use tumblr in an oldschool internet way.

--

So by all means, people, weigh in about what made LJ great or how the culture felt at the time...

But if I see one more god damn response going "You can't have a conversation on tumblr!" in reply to my tumblr, which contains nothing but conversation, I am coming for you.

[bugflies00]

i have so many thoughts about the tommy song/video and theyre a jumbled mess. i wouldnt call this an analysis this is just. most of my thoughts surrounding the video and what it shows about tommy

one of the things that stuck out to me (outside of how depressing and just like. is this guy okay) is something that ive always respected tommy for because he's always stuck with it and its his like. fervent conviction in people doing things theyre passionate about. thats always been one of the things he talks about all the time!!!

when AI started appearing he was talking about death of creativity, with the internet he's always talking about how the real tragedy is the algorithm killing people's passion by driving them with views and money, and even when he talks about youtube itself, and nowadays standup, its so full of passion.

and i think thats really important because it would be extremely easy for someone like tommy, who's in the process of maturing his online image from a very loud, immature and PASSIONATE persona, to make fun of it. it would be so easy to do like so many other creators and laugh at how "cringe" it was and make a quick cash/attention grab with a funny clip of him laughing at himself. but he never has. well don't get me wrong he's laughed at himself or old videos but it's always just. good natured taking the piss out of himself, it's never this like. mocking your younger self who was so excited to do what they did only because now its "cringe".

not only is he constantly giving that advice to other people (its been years of him replying, to any kid in his chat or donations asking advice on how to be a creator etc, "just go and do it if you love it!!"), he's coherent with how he applies it to himself. he realised he was making cash grab tiktok react vids and hated it so much he just stopped uploading for a while.

i dont know i just think there's something admirable about being able to still be sincere in a time where everything especially online has to be processed through a layer of irony. and its even funnier because he's more sincere THROUGH the irony i mean he's literally going into standup.

letting yourself create something that "means" something is fucking hard especially when half the internet still sees you as a kid who screams around. except the thing is that kid DID make stuff that mattered and that meant something because he was, in his own words, having fun.

i think thats what the format of the video was about too. i mean i think it was pretty clearly not a song thats meant to be streamed, its not purely music, its also a video because tommy is also first and foremost an editor who went to film college. its also not a "comedy" song like he's made some before, because those were all intentionally created to land as many jokes and make a big buzz— which doesnt mean they were bad! im philza is a contemporary lyrical masterpiece. but they had a specific purpose and it was to make people laugh and i think this video was completely like. opposite of what peoples expectations are of tommy. the "wow hes not a child anymore hes being mature🤓" reactions are the most obvious aspect of this (which, like, its been a while, get with the program).

i think the point of this was to make something that genuinely meant something but that was also like. as unpalatable to the algorithm and to the TommyInnit Viewer as possible. even now that he's gone into making quieter, more reflective videos, we've never had the flashing texts and the projector images and just all of that. hes always talking about how he hates the way the "youtube formula" has dictated the course of content and stolen all creativity for youtubers. its not meant to be a YouTube Video tm. its just meant to mean something to someone, and obviously process some sort of personal emotions, and i just think thats. yeah. yeah

i mean he even says so outright. "this needless, self indulgent spiral of self gratification" is pretty damn explicit. its not meant to be funny content its really a cry for help or for just. anything at all really

it was also a lot about perception, yknow the "entertainer" dilemma, "its all attention porn"... theres a layer of this point thats universal, everyone struggles with how they're perceived and i think any "artist" or "entertainer" figure can see themselves in it, but there's also a layer thats completely impermeable to most of us because it touches upon the sheer absurdity of a "youtuber". especially one of tommy's popularity. especially one who blew up so so fast so young. i honestly think its IMPOSSIBLE to process that. its about the ethics of having millions of people's time so readily available to you if you just press the right buttons to make the algorithm happy and then you've got them. im like 75% sure i remember him saying this on stream once, something like "your time is valuable" and if a fan didnt value him as an entertainer they should drop him.

and even here^ thats the saddest "lmao" ive seen in my life SORRY LOL but its really just. yeah im not gonna repeat myself it speaks for itself. perception and internet expectations and all that

one of the other images that stuck out to me was also this:

"yeah i know its too much like bo burnham but it wont be in a year though. in a year it will be like tom simons. just let me figure out what that means, ok?"

a lot of the video is about. influences and inspirations. the bo burnham references are so obvious he's poking at them, but i think he's raising a good point about the creativity that he's constantly praising. its never something that springs up on its own, its all about looking at others work and making it your own and feeding yourself with all those experiences and slowly, surely building your own way of doing things (tommyinnit "minecraft talent show" and "a tribute to dream smp" serial quackity + schlatt impersonator would know all about that) ->

and its daunting! its fucking scary to move away from that! which is also the main vibe i got from the video which, outside of his own issues with how he's perceived online, was the sort of existential dread that comes with actually creating. its one thing to preach you need to be passionate and create, its another to sit down and create something thats BY you. its a part of growing up! and we're literally seeing him do it live (well the bits that he chooses to show obviously)! thats also part of why i think tommy's so relatable to so many people is that he's so like. honest and real about what it's like to grow up, simple as that, and growing into yourself.

"this was everything to me" and using the picture of his younger self... man. theres obviously so much sadness underlying the whole thing but i think the nostalgia and melancholy in mourning being someone who was only inspired/excited by your interests and role models is universal. and obviously for tommy a lot of those influences turned out. well i think it was pretty damn clear who/what he was referring to here. ->

i don't think i need to go too in detail about that, especially cause a lot of the video was clearly a way to process his own personal emotions. especially with those next few images. i just hope he's okay and that god doubles his pain and gives it to mr beast to quote my friend bronzetomatoes. man.

of course he had to end with a funny clip about a hot anime girl and i think that kinda. sums it all up in a way. if that makes sense. at the end of the day its about the fact that he has to use humour to make the thing work when its out in the open, even when he tries not to and to be actually honest, but theres also the fact that hes literally a comedian and creating something "honest" IS through humor. its kindof a double edged sword

right well that was my jumbled mess of psychoanalysing tommyinnit i hope he is alright and all that because well that was. something

[grub-hut]

I don't use Tiktok, never will, In my opinion I think the app should shut down. [ But that will never happen... So I will cope.] But god are ya'll are insufferable on there. The fact you have this strong par asocial attachment to Sebastian and claim that Zerum is ""ruining the character"" is just blasphemy and shows you guys know nothing to zero about writing and do not play the game whats so ever. I've talked to Zerum; Ive talked to the devs and mods ; and all the false claims and misinformation that's being spread like a wildfire IS CRAZY. Everyone's so exhausted. It takes just a couple of minutes to prove it's false but that would actually require these people to literally sit down and fucking read. Zerum never banned anybody. Zerum doesn't handle the bans in the server. If you got banned or muted, it was most likely the automod in the server that they have implemented to avoid people saying anything weird or sexual... [ A friend of mine got muted because they sent a gif that had a weird name to it; nothing related to the gif, the gif was fine and they filed a ticket and got unmuted. Its just the bot doing its job.] and even then the mods probably banned you for something completely unrelated...

and even then, can we STOP normalizing this??

Like this GRINDS my gears, it fucking rusts, it makes me want to break down and combust into flames- Stop. Stop. YOU ARE THE ISSUE. Creators want to create. Either for ourselves or for others, whatever it maybe people enjoy letting their creativity flow because ITS FUN. IT SHOULD BE--- FUN!!! We are giving you literally something free and something to ENJOY because we enjoy it just as much! This stupid fucking mindset being so normalized makes me SO SICK. " whatever is put on the internet is free reign!" you guys have ZERO respect for any creator; even yourselves and its so BLATANTLY OBVIOUS. You guys preach about "respecting artists/creators" till it doesnt fit with your agenda, because we should just "expect" our works to be disrespected and used. Like our feelings never mattered. Are we going to ignore the discussion of AI art too? Or copyright, or literally anything of that sort here? Yes, its the internet, there WILL be people who are so drastically cruel and do something you will not like. I do agree its best to ignore those kinds of people but that does not mean we should just LET it happen. It does not mean we should suck it up and take the blows. This is how people stop creating, youre killing artists, youre shunning them away because "its the internet, lol, dont get mad if ppl -" Stop it, you're teaching younger generations that it does not matter if you have boundaries or not and that your voice doesnt mean anything. I mean fuck, you put your oc here I can use it however I want then! Because you shouldve expected the moment you click post for other people to use it! Who cares right?! its OUR oc now >:)!!! No matter what the character is from, by a indie game, a comic, a book, yadda yadda. If youre gonna be scum, you are gonna BE scum. Artists should be respected and be listened to. If Zerum ships her oc to her oc, so fucking what? She created him. YES. SHE CREATED HIM. Just because she is a """co-owner" You forget she wrote and designed him. You forget its STILL HER CHARACTER. WHICH BTW, HE WOULDNT EXIST IF IT WASNT FOR ZERUM!! ITS HER CHARACTER- Not yours, and if your first thing that comes to mind " oh but shes ruining her character" then so what, its not MADE for you. Hell, Sebastian is only like 1% of the whole entire game! ENJOY THE GAME, ENJOY THE ACTUAL LORE. MAKE YOUR OWN OCS, GO WACKY WOOHOO AND ENJOY IT WITH OTHERS. If you make headcanons for Sebastian or any other characters! Great! As long as you are respectful who literally cares. HAVE FUN! Stop harassing and bullying and literally spreading misinfo; I am so sick of people with this mindset! This is why the internet is such a shit place to begin with because we just let this stuff happen. Grow up! Like PAInter said.." YOURE NO FUN AT ALL!"

[araminakilla]

Regarding Death Wolf...

Hear me out (NO, it's not the kind you are thinking)

We know Death has a job, right? To collect souls and most likely release them to the afterlife.

And for this job, he has to be there when somebody is about to die, as demostrated with him being there moments before Puss' eight death.

Supposing he is THE Death and he has been doing this since the beginning of time (or at least when there were enough stories of the Grim Reaper to adquire a physical form) that means he has seen a lot, A LOT of awful things.

Murders, suicides, massacres, death of infants, people who didn't deserve to die alone, animal cruelty, some other heavy stuff I won't mention here, etc etc etc.

And we thought "man, how is he able to cope with all of that? That job has to be utter torture for someone."

Probably many of you could think that he is able to do that because he is Death, and he was "born" with that purpose and only him can reap souls perfectly.

But while he is a force of nature, he also WAS a force of nature. Let me explain it well: He adquired a personality enough to be angry, excited, frustrated, amazed, happy, among other emotions.

While he has supernatural power and is most likely the most powerful being in the Shrek Franchise (or in Dreamworks as many say) he is also a PERSON.

Someone with a code of honor, morals, opinions, beliefs, etc.

Returning to the question "How can he bear all of that?" taking into account he is no longer an inevitable force, but a character of his own.

The answer is something you may relate to, and that is: Creativity and escapism.

To be the embodiment of Death, the guy is a very creative fella.

First of all, his design. I heard many people saying here and in Twitter that his design is something they would come up in their edgy, teen years of drawing their first fursona.

Guess what? They are right, the wolf form is someone's fursona. It's DEATH'S fursona. He clearly came up with this badass, piercing canine form to blend with the Fairy Tale Land assuming the form of the "Big Bad Wolf". He most likely had other forms he designed over the centuries and was able to present as them like if he were on a role play game in the living world.

His sickles? The weapon of choice with the little crossed cats on it to have a bigger effect of terror for Puss? Those who can become knuckles and join to create a scythe? Those are his creation, probably after thinking it for a while and writing all of those functions on a paper.

The way he presents himself? In the bar? The coins in his eyes as a "watching you" sign while being a cool reference to the Ferryman of souls? He transforming Perrito's forest into the background of a skull? The chilling reveal at the Cave of Lost Souls? The fire ring? It was all him.

As for the escapism part...

When the world becomes too heavy to deal with as real life issues tend to make us feel bad, depressed, angry... we tend to escape it somewhere. And in our time the common place would be the internet as in webpages or comics, stories, etc.

But what has to do with Death Wolf you may ask?

Well, while he would NEVER be able to escape his job entirely, he can have moments where he can enjoy a good hunt of people who don't appreciate life, like the whole plot of the Puss in Boots sequel could demostrate.

He managed to have a little time outside his eternal routine to chase an arrogant cat who took life for granted. He enjoyed it, it was thrilling, it was exciting.

It was a way to escape a monotonous, grim "life", if just for a short moment.

So, when the chase ended as his prey no longer feared him and now was ready to fight for his last life, the wolf retreats, happy for Puss' character development but resigned because he once again had to return to "The Eternal Duty"

And that's not even counting all the times Jack "I'm dead inside" Horner had to interrupt Lobo's hunt and remind him of his job even in his "spare time"

Death knew the chase had to end eventually, but he didn't want it to end.

He didn't want to return to his own world

And if we look at Death like that, then he is probably one of the most relatable characters Dreamworks has ever make.

In the Shrek Franchise:

Monsters can be loved

Princesses don't have to fit the perfect standards of beauty

Handsome guys can be possesive jerks

Love at first sight doesn't work like one would think

Happily ever afters had to be built and not just obtain them with magic

And Death is the most creative and "full of life" being in the world

Because he would absolutely go crazy with his life/work if he wasn't.

Because in a world of Kings, Poets and Soldiers, he's the Supreme King

And he's also a perky goth but none of you are ready for that conversation.

[epiicaricacy-arts]

oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

[alexanderwales]

An Idiot's Guide to Creating Themes

There's something that Wildbow says about themes, which I'll paraphrase here: themes are something that grow without you even necessarily wanting them to, so long as the characters have strong traits and act consistently.

What this means is that if you have a character who has a real problem with authority, then naturally they're going to frame a lot of things through the lens of authority, and they're naturally going to get in conflicts with people in a position of authority. Suddenly, without even really trying to, you have created a Theme.

I don't really think that this by itself is enough, and think that it helps to bring some intentionality to the process. For one thing, if you have two protagonists who have their own strong traits, you might develop two different competing themes that do not work in harmony with each other, and suddenly people will start asking you "why isn't this two separate stories" and you'll come to the grim realization that they're right.

So if you have a single strong trait, you want to pick your other traits to be in harmony, and you want to do the same when you're thinking up secondary characters, villains, etc. Themes tend to flow a lot easier if all the stuff you're putting into the pot has something that links them together. Ideally you want a funhouse mirror where you get to see a bunch of different sides of your theme, different ways that the characters react to it, their different takes on it, even if you're just doing big shonen battles.

Doing theme construction in this way often involves trying to have the story as a prism, and your job as someone writing the story is to break that beam of light down into its component parts. Find as many pieces as you can, then make those into plot points, characters, side stories, etc.

Let's try an example!

I'm writing a superhero story and want to pick a theme, so first I think about what theme I want to spend a novel exploring, and I decide that the idea that's tickling me is the alienation of globalization and the information age, the way that everything feels overwhelming and Too Big sometimes, like there are a thousand things clawing at me for my attention.

So we start with our protagonist, and he's being pulled in a thousand directions at once, never feeling like he has enough time for anything, but paradoxically, for all that people want his attention and focus, he also feels alone. I haven't yet said that he's a superhero, but sure, it's easy to see how we can fit that in: people want him to solve their problems, to settle their disputes, to use his talents, to help them rise through the ranks, and that's not necessarily what he wants, but he feels trapped by it, like there's no other way to live.

If he's a superhero, he needs a superpower, and writing a story like this I would be extremely careful with what I picked since it needs to help carry many many fight scenes and plot points, but teleportation is my first thought: there's disorientation as he enters a new place, a feeling that he's never really anywhere because he could be everywhere, and maybe some secondary sensory powers on top of that, an ability to see and hear that can help evoke an internet connection (I have not at this point decided whether the setting has smartphones or internet, but I think maybe it works better if it doesn't, because one of the things about themes is that sometimes it's best to come at them from an angle).

So I kind of have a sense of the main character at this point, if not an overall plot. If the guiding star is "information age alienation and how it overwhelms us, offering infinite connection that leaves us lonely", then maybe the plot can be something about that. We can go toward the theme by having some plot about alienation, a society that's drifting apart, and probably a significant figure pushing that, or we can go toward the theme from a different direction, having someone who promises an answer. I like the promise of an answer better, something that our hero has tension against, so we whip up a villain whose whole thing is that the world has gotten too varied, too complicated, and promises a return to simpler times. Maybe they're a cult leader, promising family, promising that through their high-control group everything can be reduced down to something understandable.

(There are at this point many many options for our main villain and his/her powers. Maybe it's a woman who makes the world go still and silent in her wake. Maybe it's a time-traveler acting as a specter of the past. Maybe it's someone with mind control powers seeking to expand their reach until they can put the whole city under their thumb. Maybe they're a former superhero who couldn't take the constant desires and demands of the public and have twisted into a dirty form of self-induldgence. There are many "villain" answers to the question of alienation.)

So we add in some side characters. They should also approach our theme in some way. Here's a quick and dirty brainstorming list:

A friend who is terminally cape-brained, always keeping track of their specific domain of expertise, retreating hard into a niche where they know everything, which takes monumental effort and a sort of nervous anxiety approach to information. Probably a superhero with an info power, name of Dispatch or something.

A father who is blissfully unaware, but shows the flaws of that approach, always ignorant, knowing little about the goings on of the greater world, alienated in his own way by that, unable to connect to people because of it.

A government handler/contact who is a friend, but always pushing our hero, always ready with another thing that needs doing, another cause that needs nudging, a criminal manhunt to help with. A symbol of pressure, anxiety, and overload, but friendly in a way that makes it tough to say no. (A stand-in for the kind of friend who always wants to tell you about the latest atrocity, who doesn't quite demand that you know the name of every person brutalized by the police, or the latest list of people whose shittery has come to light, but does seem mildly disappointed that you're not as tuned in.)

A mentor figure who burned out, maybe a speedster who ran too fast, did too much, let themselves get run into the ground both figuratively and literally.

I think that this is a good enough starting point that if I wanted to writing this story, I probably could, and maybe the core of it would evolve as I wrote, but I have a guiding star to look toward, and one of the great things about setting out to write a theme is that if you ever hit a bump, you can look over at the post-it note that describes the theme in a few words and hopefully, get back on track.

[dnptarot]

-The Lovers by Timothy Liu

Alright here it is!!! The final collection of everybody's fantastic art for the dnp tarot deck!

here's a little sample of the kind of fantastic art we've had in the past two months of the event, with a bunch more in the google drive (linked here). this event has been such a joy to create! all the artist i've worked with have been so kind and amazing and i've made some really good friends throughout the process 😊 this one goes out to dan and phil for being so hot and gay that they look good as every card in the tarot deck, and to all the artists who made this a reality!

now for the technical stuff- i don't currently have the ability to print these and make them into a physic deck that can be sold as was suggested to me, but i do know that the website makeplayingcards.com has some pretty good options available to make your own for fairly cheap! in the google drive are .png files of every card as well as one for the back design, so go crazy!!! ofc remember that these are actual artists so don't sell their work as your own or anything 💖 let's keep being a kind and collaborative community guys- the phandom rocks!!!

and honestly, one more big thank you to the artists who participated. i'll tag everyone under the cut, but thank you so much for being such an amazing community to work with and such great artists!! and lastly, happy birthday @danielhowell !!! this started as a joke about a birthday present for dan and @amazingphil and turned into this fantastic monstrosity, so thank you guys for inspiring so many people to make such fantastic art 😊 this has been a blast 💖

okay here are the artists in the sample art, in groups of three from left to right

@viewerspookyhappenings @koyalime @psychicmoth

@ardenpng @saturnisfallingdown @queercatwithhat

@queenusagiblog @macaronimars @azuphere

and the rest of the artists!!

@jupiter-pls @serendipnpipity @danrifics

@thelibertini @hiwatari-art @freshbaked-bread

@rainytastemakeralpaca @wannieswifey @undead-queer

@thistooisphanyuri @spittykin @an-internet-introvert

@littlegreenfrog @macabremaxx @bogboygremlinthing

@all-star-lester @leanned-too-hard @fromemotoangel

@ayushikuu @shlebbie @obv10usly

@lumintsu @lesterlatte @littlestormofmess

@lovelydeps @catzoomies @precalamity

@emojackolantern @artsyangely @atomicjellycat

@lgbtspaghetti @i-remain-convinced @hingefreelester

@opossoomed @jutsomethoughtsihave @dapg-otmebytheballs

@anironsidh @ghoulish-art-tendencies @firehologram

i ran out of mentions SO i will put the rest in the replies everyone go check it out theyre amazing artists

[kittykattropicanna]

Okay new Simon Riley AU but i need everyone to stick TF with me here

Retired!Reddit!Simon anyone????? NO BC HEAR ME OUT I PROMISE

Imagine Retired!Simon. his served for decades, in that time he meets reader, gets married, had kids, ect, ect, ect.

After he retires, his completely lost and out of his element. he cant work anymore due to his chronic back pain from year of service and integrating back into society permanently turns out is a lot harder then he originally anticipated.

he starts getting really, really depressed. Days start blending into each other and his three sons start to notice their dads is doing it really tough.

SOOOO they decided to make a reddit account for him. they make him join a bunch on military sub-reddits, maybe askreddit and things alike just so he can have something to do that isn't watching the football all day

he actually turns our to really, really like it. he can post all about this crazy military carrier, maybe even a little about this childhood (which he feels comfortable with because its all anonymous) and maybe even shares a little about his wife (reader) and three boys.

i can imagine after a while he starts gaining A LOT of popularity because holy shit his stories are so interesting and his lived such a crazy and inspiring life.

it becomes his way to connect with people that aren't just his wife and kids and he starts getting so much support from other people it really starts to boost his mood again.

i also imagine people start asking for dating advice and stuff from him because his always boasting about reader on his reddit. he kinda becomes an internet dad in some way 😭😭😭😭 like people genuinely trust him with their LIVES and i'm imaging some of his response are so fucking funny 😭😭😭😭😭

Maybe take it a step further and his sons create a youtube channel for him that he can make videos about this interests such as guns, car repairs, motorbikes, ect and the internet EATS THAT UP AS WELL bc absolutely massive hot ex SAS DILF that is obsessed with his wife and kids wearing a skin tight black tshirt and a balaclava while talking about this interests 😭😭 everyone loves him sm

like imagine his boys showing him tiktok edits of him and poor Si is so confused bc why is he watching himself get thirst trapped over on some strange app he had never heard of before 😭😭😭😭😭😭 his like 50 leave him ALONEEEEE

if this goes forward i plan to write a big chuck of it in a reddit sort of format almost like you were scrolling through the app and seeing him post. Readers would be Si's wife, so even though you would be reading the text in the third person, every time Si would mention his wife, he would be referring to you if that makes sense???????

idk please tell me if this is a little to niche 😭😭😭😭😭 am i cooked or a creative genius???? ill let you decided