#shit I write

[4secret3rdthing]

Personally, I think there’s something profoundly funny of the idea that Din “i provide for my covert, i get my bounty and I get out” Djarin, coming to love and eventually marry Luke “the republic’s favourite golden boy” Skywalker.

The whole part of Din’s personality where he avoids being the main character but somehow gets stuck being it while also loving Luke despite his fame just adds so much to the ship and is simply, hilarious.

Aside from the funny part tho, I think it’s really sweet that Din loves Luke, not for his fame and reputation, but for his character. Which, I feel like for people that are well known, it can be kinda difficult to find people that love them for them.

[supermightyglue]

please do some headcanons for knox and the crew member oc from your recent post!

sorry its so late xx

it’s .. complex because

on one hand, johnny knoxville is a giant asshole and does everything he can to mean flirt with her the way kids do where he’s just messing with her

on the other hand, he’s a sweetheart and likes her smile so he wants to do things to see it

its a healthy mix ! theyre also hella close to begin with because theyre half of dickhouse

he knows her family and her friends and obv everyone sees it (how much they like each other) but he

or maybe she does see it but loves her life the way it is and doesnt wanna ruin a friendship

so its kind of knox making moves and her being a brick wall but who doesnt like a challenge?

he’s probably drunkenly confessed his love to her on multiple occasions

speaking of drunk! whenever she gets drunk, he makes sure he’s (mostly) sober

he’s hovery! all the time tbh, he tends to hover around her, trying to get her attention, trying to get her to watch the stupid shit he does

it’s a victory whenever she cracks a smile

i imagine a big ol height difference between them

i also imagine them unintentionally matching their converse or dickies or shit like that

he’s a total gentleman, pays for her, offers his jacket, holds the door.. shit that makes EVERYONE roll their eyes LOL

jeff and spike are sick of them, especially jeff

“i’ll pay you to take him on a date and shut him up”

“shut up, tremaine”

[captain-grammar]

While we wait and wait and wait for The Old Guard 2 to finally be released from the hostage situation that is Netflix's ongoing 'production issues', I thought I'd share a list of the TOG fics I've written than I'm the most happy with and proud of.

We Will Remember [4k, pre-canon, outsider POV]

"They're the best I've ever seen." That's what the soldier tells Jacob as he marches him through the mud and fog and stench of the smouldering, liberated town in the middle of God Knows Where. "Four of the toughest soldiers you'll ever meet." "Four?" Jacob is incredulous, barely keeping pace through the gear on his back. "There's only four of them?" The soldier scoffs, stopping outside one of the most beat-up, dirt encrusted Crusaders the world has ever seen, sitting conspicuously in the centre of the battered town square. He hammers a fist onto the impenetrable shell, the thump of his hand reverberating dully, like knocking on the doors of an ancient castle. "Trust me," he says with a smirk. "They only need four."

2. Stronger Anchors [2k, pre-canon, AndyxBooker]

“Quynh?” [Andromache] asked simply after a beat. Sébastien gave a curt, derisive laugh. “Who else?” Andromache felt a small smile break over her. If Sébastien was answering back quite so drily he, must be alright. “Well, you are not alone in that tonight,” she replied dulcetly. Sébastien watched Andromache carefully, the aura of grief more visible to him tonight than it had been for a long time. “Are you alright?” His tone was gently enquiring and his penetrating stare somehow demanded honesty. Andromache sighed a long, hushed exhale as she wondered how much to tell him. “Nights like these… I get to thinking. About Quynh.” Andromache’s murmur was reluctant and she found herself unable to meet his studious gaze. “Perhaps it does not do well to think too much.”

3. I Won't Let You Sink [800, pre-canon, BookerxNicky]

[Sebastien] can’t bear the way Nicolò is looking at him, gaze full of concern and heartbreak. Feeling pitiable and pathetic, not wanting to discuss it, he lies back down, rolling away to face the crumbling plaster on the wall, screwing his eyes shut, willing every hateful feeling within him to leave him be. Nicolò doesn’t see him as pitiable in the least. After all that Sebastien has lost, after over 100 years of nightmares that come and go with no warning or trigger, the only thing he wants is to comfort him. To let him know that he’s not alone and he’s certainly not drowning in anything but his own grief and that he, Yusuf and Andromache can help him if he’ll let them. He’s verbalised it many times; words that have clearly fallen on deaf ears. Actions speak infinitely louder.

4. Codeword Blue [2k, post-canon, JoexNickyxBooker, NSFW]

In a quiet moment somewhere in Norway, [Nile] noticed the hand Nicky laid on the small of Booker’s back as they passed each other in the kitchen. Weeks later in Germany, the celebratory hug between Booker and Joe when A. S Roma were soundly beaten by Shakhtar Donetsk that lingered a little too long. “What was that?” Nile had asked, turning wide eyed and opened mouthed to Andy, sat beside her at the kitchen table, drinking the tea Quynh had made them both. “About 200 years in the making,” Andy replied, cryptic as ever, grinning over the rim of her mug, her face the picture of joy as she observed Booker and Joe, smiling as the two men seemed to remember they weren’t alone and quickly found their seats again. If there was any dance that had pre-dated the current situation, Andy had seen it all and wasn’t surprised. Quynh, knowing Joe and Nicky as she did, had her theories as to why their ire towards Booker was as visceral and venomous as it was. It seemed there was something much more potent than anger between the three of them...

5. Bloom [12k, pre-canon, JoexBooker, NSFW]

Joe leaned a little closer into Sébastien's body and laid his damp palm delicately on his side, a leaping nervousness swooping through him as he did. There was no scar, no mark to mar the soft, tanned skin beneath his fingers. Nothing to cause concern or to indicate that his immortality was waning. Any of the initial anger Joe had felt was now nothing more than a fleeting memory but something deeper clung to his thoughts like a bad dream that hangs to the edges of the mind upon waking. What if…? What if it hadn’t healed? What if the bleeding hadn’t stopped? What if they lost him?  I don’t want to lose him, Joe thought, watching his thumb as it traced light circles over Sébastien's flesh, barely aware that it was his own hand. I’m not ready for his death. I don’t want him to leave me. He wasn’t angry at Sébastien at all. He was scared for him.

[unicornsandgenocide]

uh i wrote a poem idk

hope you like it?

it kinda sucks…

[hotteststar]

hi guys so that's a poem i wrote bout ummmm feelings ig???? i feel like I haven't explained well the um feelings?? so like pls help me idk how to say things idk how to talk idk how to write i just don't know man

FLOWERS

I'm dead.

i'm dead and i'm here,

i'm walking, i'm breathing, i'm looking,

i'm touching, i'm loving and i'm hating.

i'm waiting, i'm fearing and i'm crying.

And i'm dead.

Because i'm just like those flowers

the ones all around me right now

they're all pretty, all cute, all fine.

But it's not the kind of pretty flowers

that you decide to look growing

waiting and observing them until their death.

They are the kind of flowers that you pick

you kill them, hold them in your hands

watch as they slowly pass away.

And you smile,

because they still look pretty

still look cute, still look fine.

So here we are, I'm already dead

i just haven't lose my colors yet

like those flowers when you pick them.

They look alive but it's just fake

they seem fine but that's not true

they keep faking to be okay.

They don't show you their pain

they just silently accept that

they're already dead.

There's nothing they can do

and they must wait until they lose

all the life that dwell inside of them

to see people accpeting that

they are actually dead.

R.A.B.

[miss-celestia13]

Diabolical Desire

Aylin doesn’t play the victim—she’s the predator, leaving a bloody trail in her wake. Hunting her next kill online, she matches with Cole, a dangerously seductive man with his own insidious secret. Together, they deliver brutal justice and outrun the law, fueled by a savage, scorching shared desire.

For two people who see love as nothing more than a weakness, there are only two possible endings: wedding bells or a coffin. Either way, Aylin’s hooked on the dark pleasure Cole gives her—and she’ll do whatever it takes to keep it.

Published on Inkitt, Ao3, and Wattpad 🥰 a snippet can be found below the cut.

Diabolical Desire https://www.inkitt.com/stories/erotica/1349014

I’ve been writing this to help get myself out of the perfectionist, over-editing hell I put myself in with my fanfics this year. I made myself miserable, and this absurdly silly smutty story has been helping loads. It’s just unhinged and so much fun to write. I am hopeful I can return to my fics soon, without falling back into the trap I’d set for myself, but until then, I’ll be here 🥰❤️

That dense forest, eerie and silent, cloaked her as she sauntered under its organic canopy. Part of her wanted to call out for the big bad wolf to come out and play as she dodged smacking branches, and the freshly rained on soil filled her nose with its scent. These hidden gem towns where everyone knew everyone else were her bread and butter. Cities offered anonymity.

She used them when necessary. But the people she went after, the bad and the pure wicked, they thrived in these towns and she did her best work in them. She liked this one now that she was on her way to meet Cole and would think fondly of her time here. She hummed as she walked, content to wander the never-ending woods for now.

Silver ribbons of moonlight streamed through the foliage and fluttered across the dirt path strewn with amber and scarlet leaves ahead of her. The temperature dropped and dropped as she brushed against boughs and skirted around a thick patch of stinging nettles. The wind picked up to toss her hair around.

Fall’s oncoming sigh lifted the fine, pale hair on her nape and legs as she’d forgone tights, and only wore skimpy lace underwear beneath her skirt. She already knew how this night would end and wanted nothing to impede it.

Her filthy thoughts accompanied her as she followed the slowly rising sound of rushing water. It began as a rumbling hiss in the distance, as though some invisible basilisk slithered through the dark brown tree trunks splattered with weaving, moon thrown shadows. Soon, it was a thundering crash of splashing water as she broke through a towering group of bristling pine trees and the waterfall came into view.

Crystalline water poured from a gaping rock maw and into a deep shimmering pool she would have swum in as a child before people who should’ve been better had ripped from her hands her innocence.

Now, she only imagined drowning those people in it. She was alone here. She sensed no one else and knew he wouldn’t show himself until he was ready. Waiting it was then.

Aylin sank back amongst the pines, took her phone from her pocket and sent Cole a message. She played her part well. She was positive he had no clue that she’d figured him out. He wouldn’t see it coming.

Lilith: Ready when you are. I want what you promised me.

She grinned, broad and relaxed as Cole’s chat bubble instantly appeared and she drank in his words like a nicotine addict sucking their brown stained fingernails for a weak fix when the tobacco ran out.

Cole: You’ll get whatever I give you.

Lilith: What should I do while I wait?

A minute passed. Anticipation and irritation built inside her and she was gritting her teeth by the time he responded.

Cole: Nothing. Do as you’re told and wait. You’re pissing me off.

She smothered a pleased smile. A flash of heat in her chest that trickled down, down, down to settle in her core banished the night’s creeping cold. Aylin couldn’t resist needling him, knew it would make the pain burn all the sweeter once he fucked her.

Lilith: Are you even worth waiting for?

[maihonhassan]

Ask a brown girl about her past relationship and she will say;

“Pagal thi main”

[unknownoro]

Don’t be afraid of posting yourself, you are so valuable just the way you are

[cloudabserk]

WARNING do NOT start reading books and comics or watching movies or looking at art!!! you will start wanting to create art yourself. or god forbid. writing.

[milkcryptid]

do people have no shame anymore?

[4secret3rdthing]

In my mind, Ellie starts having a bit of a southern twang to her accent and says southern expressions as a result of hanging around Joel (and later Tommy) all the time.

Also, Ellie knows how to curse in Spanish like the best of them, and has the very specific regional accent that Joel and Tommy got from their mother. (On top of other words she’s learned over the years that Joel and Tommy have taught her.)

Would you look at that, three headcanons for the price of one!

[vulpinesaint]

quiz enjoyers! i am now inviting you to come create something in my workshop❕

[captain-grammar]

I trace my finger lightly across his skin, drawing constellations using the freckles on his arms as anchor points; dark stars on a pale canvas that’s just as beautiful as anything in the heavens.

[gunpowdercarousel]

I don't need therapy I need rabid gay people freaking out in my inbox

[stealingpotatoes]

the illness post is still getting notes (???!! <3) and that means people are still telling me to get better soon, which is really nice but im gonna be too powerful if i get any better

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.