#my crap writing

[nothingbutnowhere]

I'm just imagining getting Simon to take better care of himself. Which includes using actual cleanser instead of scrubbing his face with dish soap to get the eyeblack off, using proper moisturizer so his face doesn't get so itchy under the mask, and treating his acne. Salicylic acid proves to be not enough, so you show him how to use benzoyl peroxide. ("A little goes a long way, so I better not see this half empty tomorrow.")

And it's working! His skin is looking better and he even seems pleased about it!

Eventually he's called for a mission and you send him off with his skin care, making him promise to use it, and to get home safe.

24 hours later your phone pings in Simon's special ringtone. You hurry to check the message. And burst out laughing at the picture of his mask laying on the bed, face print bleached orange from the benzoyl peroxide.

Another message pings, this time from Johnny, a picture of Simon looking confused with his bleached mask on.

"were callin him lt pumpkin now"

...

More Simon: masterlist

I do NOT consent for my works, part of my works, or my ideas to be used for ANY form of AI.

[varganardi]

Idk who needs to hear this, but

Whenever I see a self ship double, or a popular canon x f/o ship and feel sad/insecure about it, I like to imagine that it's an "alternate universe", meaning that it's just a different version of your f/o.

The real version? They're with you. They're yours, and love you only.

No one can change that fact.

They love you, so damn much.

No one else - nothing else - matters.

YOU are their canon partner.

"I am my f/o's canon and real partner" - say it, manifest it, because it's true.

It's real. 💕

[Pr0ship DNI. Please respect my boundaries]

[teamdarkweek]

Team Dark appreciates their fans in their own way, we are assured.

Team Dark Week runs from 1st - 7th of February. Pinned for details if you want to check it out!

[katiekatdragon27]

Hey can you stop cooking with your ships and art? I can't eat it all and I want to hoard it!!

(positive btw! Keep up the great work - 🪣!)

Awwwww!! Don't you worry, you'll have plenty of food for the winter with me as your chef (I say after starving y'all for like two weeks sorry chat I've been traveling).

Since I have been working on some projects n stuff, I haven't been doodling as much. However, I managed to scrap this together for y'all to chew on while I cook some other stuff lol.

THEIR SHIP NAME IS FLAMING FASHION FRENZY NOW I'VE DECIDED I'M THE CEO OF THIS SHIP I WILL TAKE NO ARGUMENTS AGAINST THS ARRANGEMENT!!!

I was inspired by a reflectivedetective ship chart for all the doodling on the page. I don't remember who made it, but if someone knows them lmk please🙏🙏

Below are close-ups of the doodles n stuff:

(If anything is hard to read, feel free to ask me what it says)

This was so fun to do. Can you tell who is the Hallmark PDA couple and who's the couple who bickers like an old married couple all the time?

Shrimpo and Razzle don't know this, but Glisten is trying to set the two up together so they can be an official throuple. The only person who knows this is Dazzle, who is also in on it lol (she just wants Razzle and Shrimpo to stop fighting all the time).

Also thank you @/rainbow-wolf120 for all the feedback regarding Razzle, Dazzle, and Shrimpo's dialog. Had to consult the expert for them.

And here are some close ups of their pfps. I worked hard on them, and I wanna show them off.

If you read all this and support my vision, ily let's get married platonically /lh

Have a good one fellas!!

[dear-ao3]

Some fanfiction authors are actually insane, I started reading a fic those days with ~87k and only 8 chapters and the author promised more chapters soon and I'm just ... Do you guys sleep? Do you guys get a warm meal? Pls go to sleep.... I commented in every chapter but for the love of God take care of yourself!

i think i once wrote a 40k fanfic for a fandom i wasnt in entirely out of spite in about 2 weeks so. no. none of us are ok.

[catboythanatos]

something something discussing torture and stone's loyalty something about stone wanting to be a machine for him, something about robotnik being unable to stand the thought of losing him

[mawofthemagnetar]

The door to Doc’s lab squeaked open, and Etho shuffled in lazily. The man himself was standing at a lab bench, fiddling with something- on the bench beside him, a machine the size of a filing cabinet was whirring away noisily. Etho paid it no mind.

“Got the last of ‘em for ya.” He said, holding up a jar of blue slime and giving it a shake, “The last artifake.”

“Perfect,” Doc rumbled, peering in at something through a microscope.

“So, uh, do we have an answer? About the Iskallium eye?”

“Hmm? Yeah, we do. That’s definitely Iskall’s eye. Same materials, same composition, same power supply- matches all the diagrams he gave me when asked. Only difference is, all the artifakes are beat to hell. I don’t know what could possibly have caused these dents, man. Does Tango-?”

“Tango is saying the same thing Tango said yesterday, which is, quote, “they came with the dungeon!” Etho rolled his eyes, leaning up against a workbench that was cluttered with his hard-won artifakes, “So, ah, any luck? I’m risking my life in there for this, you know that, right?”

“You’ll respawn,” Doc muttered, holding a hand out and waggling his fingers. Etho dropped the jar of speedy slime into Doc’s metal palm with a clank, and Doc moved whatever he was examining off the microscope and set about preparing another slide.

“So,” Doc said, “There is a commonality, across all items.”

“Oh?” Etho echoed, hopping up on a bench and shoving a well-loved pickaxe out of the way, “And what’s that?”

“A dusty...residue...thing. Tastes and smells like spent gunpowder, like a rocket that’s just been fired,” Doc said, dropping a slipcover on top of the slide, “It’s fine, particulate residue.” Doc shrugged, and slid the sample of slime onto his microscope, peering in for a closer look.

“And it’s...EVERY artifake, you said?”

“And every artifact, I’ll bet. Keralis’ slippers were a goldmine- just choked with the stuff. Seriously. I put them into a bag and shook them and a ton of that dust came out.” Doc twiddled the focus knobs, and sighed.

“There's more of it. Man, and it's even, like, mixed into the slime! I’m gonna have to ask Jevin for a sample when he’s around next so I can compare.” Doc nodded, and Etho smiled behind his mask.

“Soooo... that’s it, then? The mystery of where the heck Tango got all these artifacts from is...magic dust, I guess?”

The machine dinged, like an egg timer, and printed something out on a long strip of paper. Doc extracted it, and started to read over his results.

And as his eyes scanned down the page, he went very, very still.

“Doc? What’s happening?”

“Etho. Composition of this dust...it’s rock.” Doc said slowly.

“...Rock dust? And?”

“Roughed edges. This rock has never seen water.”

“...Which means...?”

“This rock hasn’t been oxidized. Predominantly...reduced. No clay, no mica...which means...”

“Doc!” Etho sighed, “What are you trying to say, here?”

“Every single one of these artifakes is covered in moon dust.” Doc said flatly.

Etho swallowed.

“Wherever the dungeon is getting these artifacts-” Doc started, hands trembling.

“-Is someplace we didn’t get lucky last season.” Etho finished, "Ah. O...kay."

Both men stared at the jar of slime in silence.

“...Cool. Well, anyway, have fun with your crisis. I’ve got three more frozen shards left!” Etho said cheerfully, and he skipped out the door.

[seraphic-sibyl]

There are two wolves within you. One of them just came up with a fanfic you desperately need to see, and the other refuses to write it.

[short-wooloo]

There are a million and nine reasons why I hate the "anakin has x personality disorder" takes (mostly because people treat it like it's textual fact and not just their fanon interpretations), but by far the thing I hate most about them is like 70-80% of the time the "evidence" for it (no matter the disorder whatever the armchair psychologist pulled out of the hat this week) always seems to be "Anakin gets angry sometimes"

[supreme-leader-stoat]

No more wizarding schools. Wizarding schools, while occasionally fun, have been done to death and back to the point that I wouldn't be surprised if there's some story out there about a school specifically for liches.

Now, Barbarian School, that's some unexplored territory.

[aaa-totodile]

Jason Todd is a yearner

Always wanting and not being able to have or having what he wants and then having it ripped away. He wants to be able to be a child but more importantly he wants to take care of his mom cause knows no else will and he wants his mom to be with him always. Then all he wants is to live, just one more day. He doesn’t want to have to scrounge for food. He wants a family and to go to school again. And he got that. (he never wanted to be Robin no matter what anyone says, he was just happy once Bruce put him in the position because he believed being Robin was an obligation he had to fill to have a family). He wanted siblings and he got a brother, even if it wasn’t everything he hoped. Then that familial relationship was denied because of something he didn’t want. So he wanted more family, real family, and the security that came with it, and chased that all the way to Ethiopia.

He wanted to live. He wanted Batman, Bruce, his dad to save him. For a while he wanted nothing, had no ability to want anything. Then he wanted out, he wanted to breath. Then he wants to go home and see that he mattered, that he meant something. And when he didn’t get that he wanted them to understand, to see him, and that he mattered, even if that meant taking drastic matters.

He wanted the joker dead, wait no he didn’t, he wanted proof that his death meant something. He wanted Batman to stop walking away. He wanted the bleeding to stop. He wanted his dad to love him, to accept him.

He wants a family.

Again.

[candyswirls]

Idk if you're still taking requests but can I get the aftermath of Aelia's death with Lion basically ignoring poor little Alessia, Roboute calling him out for it and then it ends in them arguing???

Roboute rubbed the back of his neck, debating if he wanted to cry again or not. The last time he felt this way was when his father had been assassinated. Except this time, there was no one to take vengeance upon. There is nothing like that to occupy his mind.

It was oddly quiet within the corridor. Alessia had her door open.

The Lord of Macragge leaned in to see her curled up on her bed, clinging to her favorite stuffed animal.

He entered and sat upon the bed. He was about to break the silence, but she beat him to it.

"Because momma is gone, daddy doesn't love me anymore," she said sadly.

Guilliman's mouth opened and closed. He shook his head in order to overcome the shock of the statement.

He assured her, "That's not true. He loves you very much. It's just hard to understand the pain of everything.

"He won't see me though," she told him as pressed the plush to her face. "He won't talk to me. He just sends astartes to tell me to go away or find something else to do."

Anger boiled in the Primarch's chest, "Let's go see him and talk to him."

"I'm not allowed in his office. He yelled at me to get out."

He scopped up his niece and held her to his chest.

"I'll talk to him," He swore to her.

***

He came pounding down the hallway, and the Dark Angels outside the office door considered moving for a moment.

"Lord Guilliman," one began.

"Move." The Primarch said coldly.

Both quickly backed away, and the doors swung open.

Lion did not look up from his desk, slowly thumbing through paperwork.

"We need to talk," Roboute told his brother.

"I don't need help with paperwork," Lion mumbled.

The thirteenth slammed his hands upon the desk, "I am not here about that. I am here about your daughter that you have so conveniently forgotten is your offspring and still here."

Lion looked up with a glare, "She is fine."

"She is not! She told me earlier that you don't love her anymore because Aelia is gone! She misses you and needs her father -"

Lion looked away, "Leave."

Roboute held back the urge to punch his brother in the face, "Do not abandon her. Aelia wouldn't have wanted -"

"You don't know what she would have wanted!"

Guilliman grabbed Lion by the collar and yelled, "I do! I knew her longer than you! I saw her more than you! She loved Alessia! She would want you to continue to give that love."

The Primarch of the first shoved him backward, "How can I when I look at her and just see Aelia?! When I am overcome with grief upon seeing her?!"

Roboute forced himself to maintain composure and stared into his brother's eyes, "Learn to cope and deal with it. You can grieve all you want, but that doesn't excuse you from your duties as a father. Especially with a child as young as her. If you don't, I will take her, and all she'll have is unpleasant memories of you."

"That may be best," Lion mumbled.

"Don't be stupid."

[royalarchivist]

Mouse is less than 1000 subs away from breaking the record for Twitch's highest sub count ever! Go show her your support!

[the-dose-makes-the-poison]

Hidden in a secret place, Somewhere Between half-light and half-darkness, Between pain and tenderness, Between adoration and contempt, Between indifference and love, My trembling heart is waiting To be found and touched by you.

— the-dose-makes-the-poison

[weedle-testaburger]

the entire doctor who fandom @ steven moffat rn:

[tathrin]

On the Road to Isengard

This fic written in response to the random-pairing assigned by this prompt wheel (also consider an alternate book-centric version of the wheel here!).

Elves do not slumber as mortals do. They live closer to their spirits than to their flesh, and as such, they require less rest to restore that flesh; and they furthermore live bound to the world in ways no mortal will ever be, and thus can walk the world even in their dreams, without fear of fault or falling.

As the Men of Rohan slumbered around him, Legolas walked, wandering the campsite on the road to Isengard.

Gimli slept deeply, his head still sore from the blow that had nearly taken his life beneath the Hornburg, whatever he said to the contrary; and with him, Arod and Aragorn and all the Rohirrim save the sentries.

Legolas was restless, a Wood-elf in a land of grass and men and horses, and he let his feet lead him whither they would within the darkness of that hasty night.

He did not expect to find company in the form of a king.

"You do not sleep, Master Elf?" Théoden said, and Legolas startled from the veil of his walking-dreams to blink blankly at the slouching figure seated, wrapped within a cloak, upon the grass.

He might have explained the manner of elvish dreaming and elvish slumber, perhaps; but instead he said merely, "I am not yet tired, good king. But do you take no slumber also?"

Théoden smiled, a heavy smile for so young a soul, though his face looked old as elvish features never did. "I have slept enough of late, and am like to sleep again soon: a sleep from which there is no waking. I find I am more weary of slumber this night than I am in need of it."

Legolas nodded, and debated whether it would be ruder to intrude upon the king or to take his leave; but Théoden had spoken to him. If he had wished for solitude, he might have kept his silence, and been passed by unobserved by Legolas's wandering.

Making up his mind, he joined the king upon the grass, curling his long legs in and leaning back to watch the stars.

Théoden said nothing more, but he did not leave, or motion for Legolas to depart either, so it seemed he had judged the king's mood rightly; so he stayed, and watched the night's jewels dance their slow dance overhead.

"There is a strange weariness upon this land," Legolas observed after a while. "It is a thing that saps the limbs and spirit, but brings no true rest: some spell of Saruman, I believe, though it has something of the Shadow to it also—or so I judge, at least, for the feel of it against my spirit reminds me of the lands around Dol Guldur."

"I have heard that name," said Théoden. "A dark place, deep in the fastness of black Mirkwood, is it not? A fortress of the Enemy."

"Yes," said Legolas. "A blight upon my woods, and on the hearts of my people. Perhaps, if the Shadow in Mordor can be vanquished, the darkness that lies over my forest will be lifted also, and our trees will know the light again."

"A fair hope," said Théoden. "Yea, let us hope that in the days to come, all the lands will have their Shadows lifted from them, that we may all of us know brighter days once more."

Legolas smiled. "A fair hope indeed," he agreed. "And lo, it may yet come to pass! For though our hopes be slim, even the slightest hope can yet bring the rays of morning light to burn away night's darkness, and drive our foes to heel."

"Your words bring comfort to my heart, Master Elf," Théoden said, though his voice and face yet were grim. "I can feel in my heart that I have not many dawns left before me; yet if I can live to see the dawn that breaks this Shadow, I shall count my life well spent."

"I as well," said Legolas, and now it was Théoden's turn to startle.

"You?" he said. "But you are elf-kind, ageless and eternal. Would you truly see your death come so sanguine?"

"I would," nodded Legolas. "Long have my people fought the Shadow, in Mirkwood; and none of us would begrudge the coming of a dawn to break that dark at last, even should the cost of it prove our lives. I may be elf-kind, Théoden King, and bound to the circles of this world; but that does not mean I fear to face my death more than mortals."

"I see," said Théoden, wondering. "I suppose I should not be surprised, in truth, for I saw you in the Battle of the Hornburg, and it was not fear for yourself I saw upon your face; but elves are strange to us, here in Rohan, and our stories know you little. Forgive me: I have misjudged."

"There is nothing to forgive," said Legolas. "We are all of us strange to one another, until we meet; and I took little thought for mortal strength of courage either, 'ere I set upon this journey with them. My heart is much changed in my regard for the other races of Middle-earth than it was when first I set out from Rivendell. I cannot resent another for coming to such changes himself."

Théoden nodded his understanding and said again, "I see! Then instead of apology, I shall merely thank you, for bringing the light of this new knowledge to my heart."

Legolas bowed where he sat, and smiled. "Good king," he said, "it is my honor and my pleasure."

Théoden smiled back at him then, careworn and white-bearded, but unbowed of head or spirit; and together they sat in quiet contentment as the Men of Rohan slept, and the dark night passed away around them.

Soon enough the first light of morning came up, pale and clear, as dawn spread across the grass; and the ride went on.