#other ppl's writing

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[starmocha]

Boys don’t like sharing their toys, but with me as their fucktoy, they will learn that sharing is caring and teamwork (Zayne, Caleb, and Sylus) makes the dream work (me cumming), or you know what, fuck that shit, and they can compete to see who can get me to cum first, or they can be mean and gang up on me and overstimulate the fuck out of me, like Zayne, why do you have me on your lap, my back to your chest and your cock pressed against my ass, and wait, Caleb, your mouth—ah, don’t suck my nipple so hard—oh, god, Sylus, this is embarrassing, don’t spread my legs like that—Zayne, don’t help him!—wait, ah, Sylus, your mouth feels so good, oh, god, this is all too much, feeling their mouths, hearing such lewd noises, and oh the way Zayne’s cock is teasingly pressed so close while his hand toys with my other nipple and his lips are on my neck leaving little love bites, and fuck, who can think straight when you have three gorgeous men all wanting to see you come undone because of them, and shit, this is absolute madness, especially when you have a hand fetish and voice kink, and oh god, these men have all of the things you like locked down, because Jesus fucking Christ, who just called me their “pretty little slut,” because please say it again, I am absolutely your little whore, you like that, don’t you? You like seeing how wet I can get, like the way I moan from every stroke of Sylus’ tongue, the way Caleb suckles and teases my nipple, and Zayne’s warm mouth marking up my neck, and fuck, they know I am close, they can hear my breathing getting shorter, the way I am whining so pathetically and my hands are grabbing at anything to stay grounded, and fuck, I can’t help but thrust my hips forward, wanting more of Sylus’ expert ministrations, and—mmph!—Caleb’s lips are just so soft against mine, but oh?—Zayne, are you jealous? No? Ah, of course not, we’re sharing, of course, and you just wanted your turn as well, and holy shit, why is it so fucking hot cumming as three men watch you with the most insufferable-looking smirks ever, because they all know this is just the beginning after all, and with three holes and three men, we’re not going to stop with just this little foreplay, but they’re not that mean. Zayne is the first with the aftercare while Sylus sneaks away to prepare a light snack, because we’re all going to need our energy for a long and very intense night, since these are, after all, three young and healthy, virile men, and how sweet, I am absolutely a very generous person who likes taking care of others, so we won’t stop until all three men are satisfied and their cum are inside me where they belong, and when morning comes, of course, it will be Colonel Caleb up first to prepare breakfast, and after being such a good slut for them, I am getting doted on by three powerful men who are absolute simps for me and what the fuck do you guys mean an afternoon delight later—

[choccy-milky]

Hello! When your Seb x Clora pregnancy one-shot is complete, will it be on ao3 or wattpad? (or both?)

waiting with bated breath btw

not pressuring a finish tho, take ur time Choccy 🥰

it'll be on both ao3 and wattpad!! and omg ik its taking long IM SORRRY, its bc its gonna be way longer than i expected LMAO, i just recently finished my outline and the outline ALONE is 41k words💀and im currently at 8.3k written😩🙏 IM GLAD YOU'RE LOOKING FORWARD TO IT THO🥹💖💖i defs hope to get it finished by this month or die trying...but heres a lil sneak peek in the meantime of impatient seb who cant wait to bring baby celeste into the world LMAO🤰👼

(seb is a freak but so is clora)

[krazieka2]

I've played the Fire Emblem Husbando Dating Simulator Games

[steviesbicrisis]

Thinking about YouTuber Steve who’s gaining a lot of popularity with his weekly vlogs. The routine is very similar: he goes to work, hangs out with friends, acts silly for the camera, cooks for his roommate, watches movies with his roommate, goes out with his roommate.

His roommate is there a lot.

His new growing fanbase doesn’t take long to divide into factions regarding Steve’s dating life and sexuality; There are ships, OTPs, people who want him single so they can date him, and a surprisingly small portion which questions his heterosexuality, which gets always shut up by the following compelling arguments:

“stop assuming he’s gay.”

“Steve doesn’t look gay. He’s just a guy, a former jock, who loves to cook and hangs out with friends. A friend more than the others, but it’s his roommate so it makes sense, right?”

“And yes, they do cuddle while watching movies, but who doesn’t love a cuddle? You don’t have to be gay for that.”

“Sure, they hold hands when they go out but the city is crowded and they might lose each other.”

“Since when two male friends can’t be close without assuming that they’re gay?”

“Have you ever seen them kiss in ten minutes of weekly vlog? No, so drop your gay agenda already.”

And Steve Harrington, who started the whole vlog thing in the first place because he wanted to update his friends who live miles away and still doesn’t know how he got this much heteronormative bullcrap in his comments, has had enough.

One day, Steve Just-A-Guy Harrington, wakes up and chooses violence.

He replies to a tiktok comment that says “stop assuming he’s gay” with another video.

It begins with Steve glaring at the camera “oh yes please, stop assuming I’m gay.”

Then there’s a quick motion and Steve is pulling a curly haired guy into frame: Eddie, his roommate/platonic friend/totally not his boyfriend of 5+ years.

Eddie yawns, looking sleepily at the camera “are you vlogging?”

“I’m proving a point” Steve replies, then kisses him. They almost get lost into it, but Steve is a man on a mission, so he pulls back and turns to the camera.

“This is Eddie, my boyfriend. Not a friend who’s a boy, you delusional homophobes, we are together, a couple, in a relationship. We haven’t been just friends for over 5 years. We live together, he isn’t just a roommate.

And even if he was just my roommate, do you think I would live with this” he squeezes Eddie’s cheeks between his fingers and zooms in to show his face up close. Eddie blinks a couple of times, but let’s Steve do whatever he wants.

“Do you seriously think that I would live with this 24/7 and stay straight? Like, are you insane?” He gives Eddie a quick smack on the lips, leaving him blushing and more confused than ever.

Usually, it’s Eddie the one getting almost feral over Steve, not the other way around.

He doesn’t complain.

“So yeah, stop assuming I’m gay. Because I’m bi, you homophobic little shits.”

The video ends with Eddie pulling Steve for more than a quick peck on the lips, and Steve throwing the phone on their couch, face down.

Somehow, under Steve’s video, there’s still someone that comments “I mean, this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just bros helping bros, right?”

Steve is too busy making out with his “bro” to read it.

[quelmdn]

More Anharion and Sarcean ✨🌘

[aalghul]

"jason was better off dead and haunting the narrative" he was an afterthought brought up as nothing more than a cautionary tale for the vast majority of his appearances while he was dead. very rarely was he ever brought up with love or with the memory of he really was as a person at the forefront. you can just say you don't like jason instead of pretending jason was respected while he was dead

[dukeofthomas]

Here's my controversial opinion; if you're trying to write Bruce as a non-abusive, good parent, you should also write him respecting his kids' privacy, boundaries, and not stalking&surveying them.

[findafight]

Robin and Steve playing a dnd character together because Steve said the only way he'd play is literally with Robin. They take turns each session for who speaks but always planning together. It's a teenage human, gangly and uncoordinated and a bit of a loner. Everyone sort of lets the "two people playing one character" issue slide, as they want to play a game with their friends.

Robin and Steve have wildly different character voices, and sometimes announce which way they are walking before stumbling in that direction, and also mutter to themself in character. when it's Steve's sessions to talk he flits with the NPCs Eddie plays, but Robin is just a little aggressive to them. The personality changes are kinda weird but everyone is just happy they're playing.

Everything is going well until the big bad of the short campaign they're all playing knocks them into a wall. Not hard, but hard enough they're scrambling and flailing and...splitting in half. By their own description. Immediately they start, with their respective character voices (they are committing to this bit) bickering about whose fault it is. And about what they should do now their cover is blown.

The table is silent.

Robin and Steve have been conning everyone the entire time. They're playing twin halflings, who alternated who sat on each other's shoulders pretending to be a human because they were goofing off the day they joined the party and were too embarrassed by the mix up to correct anyone about it until they had to. Their voices and personality changes are brilliantly embedded as not Robin and Steve not being able to keep consistent, it's because they've been playing different characters. It's brilliant. It's horrible. Everyone fell for it and the reveal essentially pauses play because everyone starts yelling at them.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"WHERE IS DARRY?" Soda is on his feet before the screen door slams, Steve jumpin' off the sofa beside him.

"What is it, Pony?" Pony rounds the corner with a wide, crazed grin 'n Darry comes barrelin' down the hall. "What's wrong?"

"Darry- they fuckin' broke up!" A brief wave of confusion passes across the panicked plains of Darry's face before his jaw drops open in delighted shock.

"No." He snatches Pony's arm, leads him back into the kitchen 'n plops down at the table. "Carrie-Ann? Are you sure?" Darry leans forwards, elbows on his knees, eagerly. Pony cackles at havin' got exactly the reaction he wanted.

Steve shoots Soda a glance 'n Soda rolls his eyes fondly, crashin' back down onto the sofa. Steve shuffles around the arm, clearly listenin' in but tryin' to be the nosy allegations. "What are they on about?"

Soda cranks the volume of the TV waves a hand dismissively. "Some couple at school. God, you would think their lives depended on it the way they talk about it."

"Hush, from the peanut gallery in there." Darry shushes him from the kitchen 'n Soda wiggles his eyebrows.

"Not our fault you don't got the attention span for a good story." Soda clutches his hand to his chest in mock offense 'n it's Pony's turn to roll his eyes.

"Wait, Carrie-Ann 'n Tommy? Ain't they been goin' together for a couple years now?" Steve stops pretendin' to be indifferent, drifts into the kitchen.

"Steve, not you too!" Darry splits into a grin and Soda sticks his tongue out.

"Yeah! But only 'cause she told him she was pregnant last year! He was gonna leave I swear! I heard Jerry tell Susan in my math class." Steve scrunches his face up and Pony shakes his head earnestly.

"Well, it would serve him right. Tommy was in my English and he'd bat those stupid eyes at anythin' that moved- even when he was pinned. That Carrie girl deserved better." Steve hops up onto the counter with a firm nod 'n Soda throws himself dramatically across the couch with a groan.

The back door swings open 'n Dallas appears in the living room, glancin' into the impromptu gatherin' around the table. "Woah woah woah, y'all talkin' about me? I'm sure it's all good shit."

He ducks over to Soda, jabbin' him in the ribs and slidin' out of the way when Soda kicks at him. He misses but rolls off the couch and dives for Dallas' knees. Dally goes down hard and Soda howls his laughter.

"Nah, one of the couples up at school broke it off." Steve leans dangerously far over Pony 'n snatches one of the grandma candies Darry loves so much from the bowl.

"Who?"

"Dallas!" But they all knew it was a lost cause. If Darry 'n Pony were drama fiends, Dallas was a hound for the stuff. He was always showin' up with some new juicy tidbit. Sometimes Soda would swear Pony loved Dallas more than him solely for the fact Dallas seemed to have his nose in everythin'.

"Carrie-Ann 'n-"

"Tommy? No fuckin' way." Dallas detangles himself from Soda, shoves Steve over, 'n climbs up onto the counter. Soda shoots him a glare he misses entirely. He flops flat onto the floor, tucks his hands under his head, and refocuses on the beach flick. Or tries to.

"I heard she cheated on him." Dallas leans forward conspiratorially and Pony 'n Darry's jaws fall open in twin shocked expressions.

"No way, really!"

"I'm sorry, you're sayin' Carrie cheated on him?" Dallas raises an eyebrow haughtily and leans back on his hands.

"Swear to God."

"Wait." All four heads swivel to Soda as he sits back up, somethin' prickin' at his memory. "Tommy. Tommy Dil- somethin' right? His daddy owns the car lot close to the river, yeah?"

"Dilon, yeah." Darry leans so he can better see Soda through the door at the same time Pony says,

"Yeah, the one that looks like a Soc 'n talks like a greaser but ain't either." And Steve leans traitorously far again and adds,

"The one that thinks he's a lady-killer but nobody wants him but Carrie." Dallas puts both hands on Steve's back 'n pushes him over so he can get a good look at Soda and hoots,

"Not even his mama wanted his busted ass. That's why he only lives with his dad." Steve shoves him off and Pony momentarily whips back around with wide eyes.

"Wait, really?" Darry bats him up the side of his head, the shit talkin' goin' a hair too far for him, apparently.

"What is it, Soda?" Steve quickly redirects the focus back to him before Pony can whine 'n Soda forgets what he was gonna say completely.

"I saw him at the Dingo with Cheryl last week. 'N they weren't just holdin' hands if I'm being delicate." He wiggles his eyebrows 'n the tips of Pony's ears go all red. Dallas howls and grabs Steve who is so bewildered he forgets to shake him off.

"Cheryl? Ain't no way! I never would have-"

"Ain't she goin' with Benny?"

"Man, I thought she was catholic-"

"I swore she didn't come to this side of town- didn't wanna dirty those damn gogo boots-"

"Soda." Darry fixes his middle brother with a look that could pin him straight to the wall. Soda blinks big, innocent eyes at him. "That true?"

"Hell no." He splits into a big mischievous grin and Pony lets out an indignant wail, launchin' himself out of his chair 'n onto Soda. Soda flips him onto his back easily but Steve is on top of him before he can blink, jabbin' him in the ticklish spot under his ribs so Pony can wriggle out.

"Since when are you 'n Pony on the same side?"

"Since now! Get 'em Pone!" Steve pins Soda's arms above his head and Pony goes to town ticklin' every place he knows will make Soda holler until he's red in the face. Soda rips one hand free and Dallas comes up behind Steve, liftin' him straight off the ground with the kind of wiry strength they all forgot Dallas had.

Darry instantly takes up Pony 'n Steve's side 'n it doesn't take long until there are no sides at all- just them all rollin' around and laughin' so hard their sides all ache.

"You know, I think I get it now- that drama shit is fun!"

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[fistfuloflightning]

Fic snippet under the cut

“I have… something for you.”

Luo Binghe regarded him coldly, half turned up the mountain path. “What are you talking about?” Ever since the mess with the Dream Demon, they’d been on… well, ‘friendly terms’ was too strong. Less antagonistic terms, perhaps. But regardless, Ming Fan had been scouring Qing Jing Peak for his shidi for too long, to the point of wondering is Luo Binghe was avoiding him. And now that he’s finally found him…

Ming Fan felt the sickening hot-and-cold feel of shame twist itself in his gut. The long chain in his hand clinked and tangled, grounding him and reminding him what he came here to do. “This,” he said, holding out the chain.

Luo Binghe looked like one of the peak’s deer, ready to dart into the bamboo at the slightest hint of aggression. “What…”

Ming Fan sighed. “Don’t question it, brat. Just take it,” he said, tossing it at the taller boy.

Luo Binghe caught it easily, his wary gaze never leaving Ming Fan. But then he finally looked down. And went pale.

“How—how you get this?”

Ming Fan would willingly slit his own throat before he admitted to returning to the clearing after Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying had left and searching the bushes by light of a talisman. The fake jade had shattered against a tree trunk and, being too proud to return the pieces to their rightful owner, he kept the shards for years. “Found something in the market,” he said casually. Partial truth. He’d had it commissioned in the market, using the pieces as a template.

Luo Binghe’s fingers curled around his mother’s Guanyin jade. “Why?” His eyes burned.

Why, indeed? Even Ming Fan didn’t know what had driven him to do something so pointless. “Do I need a reason for everything?” he huffed. “Make of it what you will. My conscience is clear.” He turned back down the mountain, afraid to look back and find Luo Binghe coming after him to strangle him or something.

But if he had looked back, he would have seen him in tears and wearing the brightest smile imaginable.

[sergle]

man, you know, nobody asked me, but I have such conflicting opinions on some of the fat falin art, where on one hand: it's always nice to see A Fat Body in fanart anywhere + it's being done in positive ways, for funsies and on the other hand, there is something so familiar about how you are automatically The Fat One if you are a woman simply standing next to a more petite woman, bc I've had a 0% hitrate in seeing people change Marcille's body type and keep Falin's, or change both of them. it's just Falin

[synthe4u]

The stress was beginning to seep in. Your eyebags becoming more visible by the day. No one could tell you were more tired than the past week.

You were more quiet and less aggressive in your talking. You seem to have lost your spirit in a way, but of course, the man in the mask figured it out.

Ghost eyed you on the other side of the room. You were bobbing your head, nearly falling asleep before being shaken awake by the slight fall of your body.

You were being distracted by the lights and paid no mind to Ghost's wandering eyes.

It wasn't until around 2100 (9:00pm) when he knocked at your door. You weren't asleep yet. Your light was still on.

Opening the door you asked, "Is something wrong?"

You hadn't changed out of uniform and still seemed out of it.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why are you awake?"

You snapped back at him. You weren't in the mood. You've been tolerable all day, no arguments or fights, but it's clear he came to ruin that.

He stared at you in silence. The mask made him more intimidating which caused you to fess up.

You ran your hands through you hair, frowning in disgust at the knots in your hair.

"Just some family problems is all."

"Losing sleep over your family?"

You sighed, "What do you need?"

"Need you to sleep so we could complete this mission."

"I'm not broken, I can still do the mission."

Silence permeated the hall, other than the occasional fizzle from that one light the base swears isn't broken or haunted.

"Can I come in?"

The door widened a foot further, allowing the masked man inside. You didn't understand why you would let him in. You don't let anyone in your room, at least, not for silly matters like this.

He followed you further into your room after shutting the door, and settled on the side of your bed. You didn't have time to question it before you fell.

Collapsing on the spot, Ghost caught you before the ground could do actual damage to your body.

I guess the sleep had caught up to you, just as Ghost had caught you.

Sleep truly is not for the weak. Stay healthy, guys.

.............................................................................................................

masterlist

[hyakunana]

He's ready to beat someone 🥁