#so in three years or so someone NEW can come in and take the momentum built by rtd to bring the show into a new era

[lilydvoratrelundar]

I think Church on Ruby Road has finally firmly cemented my opinion that Murray Gold should not have come back.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

18 & 63 for the trope mashup please! <3

18. Circus AU and 63. Everybody knows, mistaken for a couple ^from the prompt mash ups game!

This is a Cirque du Soleil AU where Norris and Piastri are two trapeze artists who made huge names for themselves in their individual countries. They get paired up for new show, and it involves a really tricky sequence that people are convinced is not possible and has never been done before, let alone by two guys.

They have a couple of near misses on the attempts to nail the trick, and the whole gang is watching carefully from the safety nets. People are biting their nails, and george is totally double checking the insurance papers and trying not to freak out.

Anyway, Oscar hangs upside down on the bar, totally chill. on the platform, Lando shakes the last of his nerves from his fingers. he slides a firm grip down his own bar, the one place that’s been so familiar for so many years, and he takes a breath. It’s beyond conscious thought, it’s just muscle memory, stepping into the air. With faith that the other man will meet him, in that millisecond between complete connection and the plummet.

Hands. It’s all in the hands. Lando's own fingertips moulding to the floor the first time he nailed a handstand, someone else’s careful hands that taught him his first few balances and tucks. The way his hands bled bloody and blistered, until he worked up the requisite strength.

Now, Lando grips the bar steady with both hands. Now, the steady rhythm in the pit of his stomach. Once, three times, four ��� the pendulum hits the peak of the apex.

Lando jackknifes through the air, and he’s twisting, house lights blurring in his vision.

Oscar waits, hands outstretched.

Then, a firm clasp from a smaller hand. Callouses pressed against his own. Years of practice, leading up to this point of contact.

His body knows before his mind does. The snap of gravity into the right place, when moving object meets opposing force. It’s Oscar’s counter-rhythm that stops him falling, Oscar’s nimble strength that matches his own. The way they do this in silence, carefully cultivated trust. In that moment, their bodies are a marvel of physics.

Below, the cast erupts in whoops and cheers. Lando wants to run around, wants to scream, but in that moment there’s not really an option - he just clasps Oscar’s forearms, and lets himself be swung.

“Well.” Oscar says, wry. “That was easy.”

Lando looks up. “Yeah. Only took fifty four tries.”

Lando can tell Oscar’s trying not to laugh. Oscar's hands stay steady though.

Someone captures the footage and it takes a while to get going, but then they’re doing numbers on socials. Cirque marketing figures this could get momentum and gradually shares more behind the scenes footage of them both: heads bowed together to talk about the tricks, tightening their wrist wraps, dusting chalk off each other, and laughing as they sip their energy drinks. They even get a portmanteau: landoscar.

The final show is obviously a massive hit. Lando and Oscar’s segment ends up being a lyrical interpretation of the life of a papaya or something. It’s Seb Vettel’s show about the lifespan of plants and bees so they’re just rolling with the vision.

When Pride comes around, the two of them step out to get coffee and a snack at their regular spot. The barista waves at them and says: “a year's free coffee for the happy couple! thank you so much for repping queer excellence in the arts.”

And Oscar’s like, “oh, uh. I mean. I am. But we– we’re not…”

Then Lando turns to him. The morning light looks good on Oscar. Oscar who always lends him sports tape, always lets him order lunch first, and always, always leans forward to catch him. In or out of the ring, he is the partner Lando trusts more than anything in the world.

So Lando tugs on Oscar’s hoodie sleeve, and is like: “actually, I’d meant to ask you…”

[bcacstuff]

STELLA MCCARTNEY dress and GIVENCHY boots.

There’s something about Izzy Meikle-Small. It’s not just the delicate cheekbones or the quintessential Englishness that makes her a favorite for period dramas. It’s not even her enviable resume which includes her stepping into the shoes of some of the UK’s most luminous stars. No, there’s a quiet but resolute determination to claim her own narrative—shadowy beginnings, a taste for the unconventional, and a new era of artistic self-possession.

For years, Meikle-Small was cinema’s favorite time machine—a younger Carey Mulligan, a pint-sized Vanessa Kirby, a teenage Charlize Theron. Yet, there’s something deliciously ironic in her being cast as the precursor to these screen giants. “I don’t really look like any of them, but I’ll take it!” she laughs. “It was amazing to learn from them.” For a young actor finding her footing, the sets of those films were both playground and classroom. “Being on set as a kid can be really intimidating,” she admits, “but all three of them made an effort to make me feel really comfortable.”

Indeed, while her face was a canvas onto which casting directors mapped their favorite leads, Meikle-Small was watching, learning, absorbing. Working alongside the likes of Mulligan and Kirby wasn’t just a brush with greatness—it was a kind of mentorship. “We would have big conversations about the characters and the plot, and that helped me understand their process, which therefore informed my own and taught me how successful actors created their characters. I really appreciate the time that they took with me because it really helped shape my view of the industry and what it means to be an actor and a filmmaker.”

SACAI jacket and shirt.

Meikle-Small is no longer standing in someone else’s light. With her role as Rachel Hunter in season seven part two of runaway success historical drama series, Outlander (streaming now on MGM+ in the UK and Starz in the US) she’s stepping out of the shadows and into her own spotlight. “I’ve never joined a show which had such a pre-existing fan base,” she says. The Outlander fandom is nothing if not passionate, and Meikle-Small knows she’s shouldering the expectations of readers who’ve cherished Rachel on the page.

“Rachel is so sweet and pious and all of these things. She’s sassy, but she’s a really kind person, which is lovely to play, but I’d love to play someone with maybe a bit more edge. Maybe somebody in comedy could be fun, or something modern, where I could wear jeans,” she laughs. That’s not to say she doesn’t appreciate the role’s intricacies. “Rachel wears a bonnet, and that’s a lot to do with her religion but also feeling bound in. Doing period dramas, I feel like the history informs your character, and with Rachel being a Quaker living in the 1700s, all of these layers of history do add to your character.”

SACAI jacket, shirt, and boots.

And the audience reception has been equally rewarding. “The Outlander audience connects so deeply with every episode, and they’ve really welcomed me in with very open arms,” she says earnestly. “I was worried that people might not love me as [Rachel] as much as I would want them to.” For someone who spent her youth in roles that were more scaffolding than centerpiece, this level of engagement is a revelation. “When I was younger, I didn’t have a fan base in the same way. Because I was a kid, my exposure was different. Coming and doing this now is such a blessing.”

If Outlander marks Meikle-Small’s coronation, her ambitions reach well beyond bonnets and bodices. “I would love to do an indie British film,” she says. “In the last few years, we’ve seen some amazing films coming out of the UK. I think the new year will bring new freedom. I just started auditioning, so we’ll see what happens.”

This isn’t her first time coming out of the shadows and shaping her own destiny. “I got my first job at nine and my first movie at 13. By 18 or 19, I’d missed a lot of school. It got to the point where I was like, ‘What if I just went away, lived my life for a few years, was able to kind of grow up and mature physically but also mentally, and have some life experience?’”

UNDERCOVER dress.

She’s also drawn to the unexpected. “Genre isn’t really that important to me. There are genres that I prefer to watch as a viewer, but in terms of acting, I always want to do something different. I tend to be cast a lot in period dramas, and I think I just look very English, and that’s why that happens,” she chuckles at the inevitability of it all. “If I haven’t done a genre before, I’m more likely to be drawn towards it because it’s something that I’ve not done yet.”

For example, Meikle-Small is a dark comedy-fan, and since she specialized in medieval dark comedy in school, she’s grown incredibly fond of them. “I think that probably is one of my favorite genres to watch,” Meikle-Small admits. “It’s funny, but also it really normally packs a bit of a sucker punch message. It’s a clever way of concealing the emotional message to make it more palatable.”

While at university, Meikle-Small fell in love with producing, a role that seems perfectly suited to her thoughtful and measured approach. “I tend to work with a lot of writers who were actors who’ve turned to writing,” she says. “Because I am also an actor, they trust that I will understand and can see their point of view and that I can lead them behind the camera in a way that they’ll understand.”

If there’s one thread tying together Meikle-Small’s eclectic pursuits, it’s her deep love of stories. “I definitely would say I am a book lover,” she says, noting her background in English literature. “Doing period dramas feels natural because I love adaptations. It’s kind of my niche.” But she’s not content to simply bring existing narratives to life—she’s crafting her own.

UNDERCOVER dress and shoes.

“I have started writing, which feels a little bit scary,” she reveals. “There’s a short that I co-wrote with my friend—it’s not ready at all, but there’s something really interesting in the idea. There’s also a book that I’m trying to adapt to be a film screenplay.” For someone who has spent years embodying other people’s characters, the act of writing is an exercise in autonomy. “Whenever I’m writing things, I’m imagining myself playing the character that I would like to play, which always makes it more fun.” 

Her dream? To merge her passions into one cohesive whole. “The aim is to kind of get bigger and welcome bigger things. My absolute dream would be to act in something that I’m also producing and be able to have a kind of creative say in front of and behind the camera, especially on Outlander like watching Caitríona [Balfe] and Sam [Heughan] do that with such grace. It feels more tangible now, and I think I’d have less imposter syndrome.”

As Meikle-Small looks ahead, she’s taking stock of what she’s achieved and where she wants to go. This self-assurance radiates in her ambitions. Whether it’s an indie film, a dark comedy, or something completely different, Meikle-Small is ready to embrace whatever comes next. Izzy Meikle-Small is no shadow; she’s the whole picture.

All seasons of Outlander, including 7 Part 2, are available to stream on MGM+ in the UK and Starz in the US now. 

UNDERCOVER dress and shoes and JAEGER-LECOULTRE watch.

Photographed by Lee Malone

Styled by Karen Clarkson at The Wall Group

Written by Lily Brown

Hair: Grace Hatcher using Sam McKnight

Makeup: Irina Cajvaneanu at Caren using Lisa Eldridge Beauty 

Stylist Assistant : Maïlys Pereira

[jor-elsemissary]

Injustice For All

————

Summary: What if Superman and the superheroes of the Justice League decide to rule the world as a way to protect humanity?

————

“Lionel?” Martha queried in concern as she carefully entered the library of the manor. She can hear someone throwing aside furniture and the gasps and grunts of rage. She recognized the angry shouts and the occasional despairing sobs, as the man inside takes a moment to give in to the emotional turmoil that he is suffering.

Stepping through the glass paned doors, she witnessed Lionel Luthor push over a priceless statue of a Greek goddess she could not recognize. It shattered upon impact, pieces of the white marble, scattering across the wooden floor with Lionel standing in the middle of the chaos. She should be shocked by his behavior, but the news she had witnessed moments before on the television she understood his anger and his pain.

Although Lex Luthor was not her biological son, she had loved him in her own way as if he had been. His death had been heartbreaking to hear, so she could only imagine the pain that the father must be feeling right now. Seeing him destroy his library was more than enough indication of how much pain he actually was in.

She remembered the last time he had allegedly lost his son and although he was a lot more collected in the public eye back then, she had known him well enough to know he was hurting. Seeing him like this was upsetting though.

He was her husband of three years, having married just before the end of her first term as President, and happily so while his son took the reins and ran the country instead. She knew Lionel better than anyone else and perhaps himself too, so when he was upset he could be… dramatic.

“Lionel?” she called to him again and he seemed to have heard her this time. Her husband twisted around in place, his brow covered in sweat and his breathing hard from the anger and exertion.

“What do you want?” She refused to flinch at the snarl she could hear at the edge of his voice. He turned away and tried to kick aside a chunk of the statue, only to be met with resistance and physical pain on top of his emotional ones. He growled out his next words that stung, “Come to gloat your son’s victory over mine?”

Martha refused to be intimidated by him and approached her husband. Before he could say or do anything, she embraced him from behind and held on as he stiffened and tried to push her away, “What happened was not my son.”

Lionel relaxed just slightly to let her know she was reaching him through the haze of his anger and grief. “You know my son would not have done this.”

“Yet he has and now mine is dead,” his tone was cold and she wondered if she would rather have him snarl and spit at her instead.

Martha rested her head against his back and kept her arms wrapped around his middle. After a minute, she felt his hands resting on her arms, a sure sign that he was beginning to calm down. “I don’t know why he has done it, but I intend to find out.”

“It was only a matter of time before Superman found something Lex said or did to warrant killing him.” Her husband hung his head and she felt his left hand squeezing her arm firmly. “If I see him, Martha, I will not hesitate to make him feel my pain.”

“I’m waiting then.”

They both spun around, startled by the voice of the very man who had killed the President of the United States. Martha wanted to ask why he had done it but Lionel was pulling away from her to reach for something in his study.

He never got the chance to grab it as Superman, faster than a speeding bullet, intercepted him and tossed the older Luthor across the library. “Lionel!” Martha cried for him and hurried to reach where he had landed against the sofa, the momentum toppling it over and sending him sprawling across the wood flooring.

Lionel groaned in pain when she helped roll him over, “Bloody hell, he’s gone mad.”

She helped him sit up before looking in her son’s direction, “What has gotten into you?”

“Truth,” her son answered as he floated closer to them. “Time and again so many have to suffer and die while men like Lex Luthor continue to live without facing the consequences of their actions.” He settled to the ground, his crimson boots crushing glass underneath as he approached them.

Lionel glared angrily at the young kryptonian he had once faithfully served, “So you’re now judge, jury and executioner? You think yourself a god who can decide the fates of men?”

“I have the power to bring justice to the unjust,” Superman argued dangerously. “Executing Lex Luthor was only the beginning. To protect humanity and the world, I must protect humanity from itself.”

“What brought this on?” his mother dared to ask, suddenly afraid of what he might do. But if she could understand the cause for this turnaround in his personality and morals, she might be able to reason with her son.

Superman was quiet for a moment and his hardened features softened for her. “Lois.” One simple name was all she needed to understand. “He killed her.”

Lionel blanched at the realization. “What… happened?”

“Do not act like you care, Lionel.”

“Answer him,” Martha commanded and for a moment she could see the boy she had raised. But his pain covered up the hopeful hero behind the mask of righteous anger.

“Lex shot her in the Oval Office and was about to launch the country’s nuclear arsenal. I stopped him by frying his brain.” Clark stopped in front of them, his hands were curled into tight, angry fists. “Now, I will make sure no Luthor can ever hurt another person I love.”

His eyes began to glow a molten color and Martha knew what he intended to do to her husband. “Clark! No!” she shouted just before his heat vision was unleashed upon them. She reacted out of desperation to save the man she deeply cared about and loved, her body quickly covering his just as the energy struck her in the back.

It tore a scream from her for a brief moment and in that moment she knew she had lost her son. Martha only hoped that her death would be enough to snap him out of his grief induced rage and keep him from killing Lionel. She gazed upon her husband one last time before her heart gave out to the searing heat.

“Nooo!” Lionel cried in anguish and then in pain as the heat vision pierced through and struck him in the shoulder. It had happened too fast and by the time Superman realized what had happened, it was too late.

"Mom?" the voice of the kind boy had returned at the realization of what he had done. He watched as Lionel rolled Martha onto her back, his hands moving desperately to hold her, to stem the flow of blood that was coming out of the partially charred wound, touching her face tenderly and finally leaning over her and pressing his forehead to her own. "I..."

"Get. Out."

Superman swallowed thickly at the cold and dangerous command. He has seen the billionaire angry before, but this was a different wrath. He wasn't afraid of him, but the tone of voice was more than enough to have him hesitate.

"Murderer!" Lionel snarled as he sat up and snapped his gaze toward the superhero. "You murdered my son and now my wife!"

"You murdered her!" the kryptonian snapped back and a hand quickly grabbed the businessman by the throat. "If it wasn't for you, my mother would be back at the farm tending to the garden or raising my son! Instead, she chased your dream across the country and married you!"

Lionel held onto Clark's arm as he was lifted off of the ground, eyes widening at the grief in his eyes turned to rage again. "Don't you dare blame me for your mistakes! You chose to murder my son and try to murder me! What did you think Martha was going to do? Just stand there and let you?"

Superman glared hatefully at him and brought Lionel closer, "Your presence implicates you." He realized then and there that there would be no reasoning with the young kryptonian hero, even as he felt his fingers close tighter around his throat.

But before his larynx could be crushed, and much to his surprise, a green arrow came between them and embedded against the column they stood near. Enclosed around the shaft was a vial of green liquid that suddenly made Superman stumble and let go of the billionaire.

Superman stepped back and turned on the source of the kryptonite laced arrow just before another one struck him in the shoulder. He cried out in pain and yanked the offending ammunition from him, "Oliver!"

"I have plenty more where those last two came from, Clark," the Green Arrow informed from the same open balcony Superman had entered from. "Best leave now or you're the next Kent that falls."

"Traitor!" Lionel watched from the ground as Superman gave the archer a death glare before bolting upward through the ceiling. He coughed and rubbed at his neck, falling back in relief now that the danger was gone.

The shadow of the Green Arrow fell onto him as the man crouched down beside him, "I'm sorry."

"What... happened to him?" Lionel dared to ask, his gaze falling to the lifeless body of his wife.

"We don't know and by we, I mean Batman and I." Oliver held out a hand to Lionel and helped him to his feet. "Something is wrong with the heroes that have abilities. Flash, Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Shazam," he ticked off several more heroes. "But it started with Superman when he killed the President."

Lionel did not meet Oliver's gaze as the man spoke, his attention on his wife. Quietly he went over to her and knelt down beside her. He drew her into his arms and simply held her, "I don't care what the reason is. I am going to kill him."

"Yeah?"

He looked up at the Green Arrow and for the first time since knowing him as a boy, Oliver saw genuine grief in the man's face. "I will kill Superman even if it kills me."

—————

Author Annotation: Just a one shot based on that Justice League story arc where Superman and the other super powered heroes turn on humanity, but set in the Smallville and my President Kent verse. If I remember correctly, the turning point for Superman was losing his wife in that story arc. Since Lionel still lives, he would, naturally, go after the only other Luthor that could harm his family. Unfortunately his grief and hatred for the Luthors has blinded him and inadvertently caused the death of the only other Kent that he loved.

I had ideas of where I could take this, but currently don’t have the drive to write it out. Lionel would have joined the resistance as the White King, aiding Batman and Green Arrow in trying to stop the Injustice League. He’s driven by his grief over the loss of his son and wife, that he has no qualms in killing the super-powered heroes.

If I remember right, the only way they managed to stop Superman was to use time travel to undo that critical event that sent him over the edge. But the heroes ended up in Vandal Savage’s WW2. I think. Its been a while. I’ll need to rewatch those episodes.

But anyway.

The White King, although known to Superman who he is, becomes a threat to the Injustice League’s rule. Lionel is wanted across the whole world, along with Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. Ironically its the billionaires who lead the rebellion. Lionel only does it out of revenge, Bruce and Oliver do it because its the right thing to do and they prefer democracy over an autocracy.

At some point Lionel is captured, deliberately, and is taken to the Watchtower space station. The resistance uses his capture as a way into the station and to gain access to a powerful machine that they can use to send someone back in time.

Lionel goes back in time to save his son. He wants to kill Superman but the moment he has a chance, he doesn’t take it. He saves Lois instead and helps Superman stop Lex from launching the nukes.

The tragic part in all this?

He is forced to watch his younger self be with Martha. He can’t go back to his timeline because it no longer exists. He’s stuck and he finds himself grieving what he has lost. But it is a sacrifice he was willing to make to ensure Martha and Lex live.

Superman invites him to join the Justice League but he declines, choosing instead to live in exile.

He wears a power suit built by Batman, but white and a kyrptonian symbol on the chest like Superman’s. Its the symbol for “Ruler”. He wears a full helm that hides his face and is fully functional in space and high tech. The antennae and sensors on the top of the helm, make it look like he’s wearing a four-point crown. It allows him to stand his ground against Superman for a short period.

[uncleasad]

how do you deal with writers block?

Hello, Anonymous friend, and thanks for this fun (and timely!) Ask.

The first thing I want to mention is there’s a difference between “normal” writer’s block and a persistent and wide-ranging writer’s block, which might be burnout instead. For burnout masquerading as writer’s block, I don’t have any good answers, but the recovery takes time.

For regular cases of writer’s block, can’t finish this scene, can’t figure out where to go next, and things like that, there are a wide range of strategies that I employ or have employed in the past.

When I got stuck on my very first fanfic, I started writing other ideas that came to my head. The 9 months between chapters on that fic spawned both the initial one-shots of the Tales from the Salvatore Kitchen series and the first three of my WIPs as I got stuck on each one, in turn, and started another 😂

I was always successful in getting writing again…just not in finishing the work I was stuck on in the first place 😳

On the first of those WIPs I mentioned before, when I got stuck at a certain point, I jumped ahead to the next scene I knew I could write, and I used that tactic fairly effectively; that fic is both one of my most-complete WIPs and also roughly 5 disconnected sections 😂

Another both effective and productive thing I do often is to go back and reread prior sections—paragraphs, scenes, chapters, sometimes even the entire fic—and/or edit. It refreshes my memory of what I’ve written and in a strange way rebuilds momentum, so that when I get to where I was stuck, I have everything in mind again and can plow through the wall.

Something I’ve used quite effectively recently is to take a prompt and write a very short fic from it, which has the benefit of switching my mind to a new context without getting me caught up in a whole new, full-fledged work. I think this has worked best when I know generally what I want to write but have gotten stuck on the specifics (actions or dialogue to fill out a scene); this seems to kick-start the creative juices, plus leave me feeling good (endorphins) from “finishing” something.

Those are the tools for breaking writer’s block that still involve writing and you the writer taking action on your own. The next set of tools are more passive and involve taking a break of some kind.

If you’ve poked around my blog much (and it’s perfectly fine if you haven’t!), you might notice I often post about getting ideas—both for new fics and for things I’m working on right now—as a result of doing mundane things.

So many ideas (often the craziest!) come to me in dreams! (Be sure to write them down/take a voice memo/whatever as soon as you wake up!)

Then there’s brushing my teeth…

And showering…

Working in the garden…

Or mowing the lawn…

Even taking a walk…

(Once again, try to keep something with you so that you can record these ideas in case you can’t immediately go back to work on your writing!)

The commonality between these is both that you’re taking a break from thinking about your project and also allowing your mind to wander while doing something mundane (though perhaps stimulating in a different way…light, smell, temperature, visually). It’s paradoxical how not thinking about your writing leads you to have breakthroughs about your writing, but there’s some actual science behind it.

The final thing that I’ve found useful is to talk to someone else about where or why you’re stuck. One of the great things about being here on tumblr this year is that our little community of active Hosie authors has reached critical mass, so there’s always someone around to talk to if we’re stuck on something. Sometimes that takes the form of a post and I get comments from others; other times it’s a chat in tumblr Messages. You can also engage a beta reader or IRL friends, or the like, too. (And sometimes just figuring out how to explain to someone else how or where you’re blocked on a work is enough to get you unstuck.)

There’s another article I’ve posted about which is a summary from an academic paper on writer’s block with a list of strategies employed by writers surveyed for the paper. I’ve broadly covered most of them here, but it’s worth glancing at the list I quoted in my post for a few other specific variations.

I hope some of this is helpful. We’re all different as writers, and how and why we get blocked on various things we’re writing are also different, so don’t worry if what works for me doesn’t work for you…keep trying things.

Thanks again for the Ask, and happy writing! (And feel free to follow-up if you have more specific questions about anything I’ve mentioned.)

[deathjitsus]

wrestledream predictions

mark vs jericunt

if mark doesn't win this someone will have to die

darby vs brody

if they really are trying to build darby as the chosen one and actually want him to hold the world title someday i feel like he really needs to win this match. feels like a very put your money where your mouth is type thing because if he's talking big only to get his shit rocked by brody then i dunno man. I just don't know

jack vs shibata

i think this match will be good but the build has been unimpressive which is kind of the theme of 95% of matches on this card. i get it we're screaming hot off the tails of the all in/all out double team but it feels like not nearly enough love was given to putting together this show. ANYWAY that being said i don't think it's shibata's time. i think he would be a great tnt champ whenever that day comes and potentially elevate it a lot more than jack has been doing with his reign (no offense) but i don't see the title changing hands here.

ospo vs takeshita vs ricochet

okay i know okay but listen. REALISTICALLY do i feel like ospreay is probably retaining? yeah. HOWEVER i think takeshita winning the belt would be amazing for him and also further will's feud with the dcf especially if there was some interference (maybe from a certain new member?). plus it's a three way match which iirc means will doesn't need to be pinned to lose the belt which protects him for a rematch in the future. i just really really want a takeshita singles run ok

bucks vs private party

see jack vs shibata i don't think this match has been built particularly well for either team. private party has been booked like shit basically all year if not longer and to rocket into the tag team title sphere again seems very sudden for them so i don't really see them taking the titles off the bucks at all but i do hope that this will serve as fuel for the fire and they'll start getting taken a little more seriously again.

mariah vs willow

i want willow to win this so bad but i know it's not her time. but i have to have hope that one day she will get her time in the sun

hanger vs jay white

i feel a little conflicted about this match. jay white has been gone since what june? july? this is his first match back from injury in months. my problem is i feel like hangman has built a lot of good momentum for himself coming off his win at all out over swerve and i think a loss for him here would kind of cut that off at the knees, but i think jay is similarly trying to establish some new momentum coming off of injury. i think at the end of the day jay white will take this one—whether swerve is somehow involved or not i don't know, but hangman has a history of taking losses and further working them into whatever he's doing so i guess we'll see what happens.

as for what happens when swerve returns he's said we're going to see a new evolution of him and his character—i fully expect him to ditch nana and align with mvp and his new faction (whether they're calling it the hurt business or whatever name they go with). maybe i'll be surprised who knows! but that certainly seems like the direction they were headed

hologram vs mortos

this feels like a weird choice for a ppv match but i won't complain because i'm sure it will slap. i know tony has put a lot of stock into hologram but i'm just not necessarily on the train yet is all. hologram is undefeated in aew as of today so i'm kind of back and forth on whether or not this will be the end of that streak—i think a 2 out of 3 falls match is a good way to do it and paint mortos as a bit of an underdog but tony also might be looking to get hologram his first ppv win so who knows. right now i'm saying hologram wins but it's really a 50/50 for me i don't necessarily care but i do think it will be a good match either way

bryan vs mox

can i be honest with you guys. i don't know if i'm feeling the intended emotion over the build to this match. a lot of the promotional materials have painted it as a fight for the future of aew and while on one hand yes, conceptually i understand that mox is going for the title because he wants power and is attempting to make change to aew and the culture of the company, i also feel like this is much more personal than that and the world title belt has simply got caught in the crossfire because bryan has it right now. it's not about the belt, it's about bryan danielson and jon moxley. and on one hand i think that's a good thing because i really do feel like there's a lot of tension going into this match but i also feel like a lot of the build has actually been focused on wheeler yuta rather than mox and bryan. and i get it, bryan can't wrestle and mox is busy doing whatever the fuck he wants, but i feel like these two haven't really spoken at all in the build to this match its just been mox shitting on bryan and bryan laying down and taking it. i dunno i just feel like its been set up really weirdly and idk if i like it. that being said i think all of this would make it a very weird time to retire danielson. imo it would have been a much more satisfying conclusion to have him finish at all in (when he was clearly in kayfabe Ready to Go) instead of dragging things out even more to give him a month or two with the world title. this world title reign feels like a sequel to a book that never needed one.

[lamuradex]

40K In 42 Days Update: Week Two

@the-wip-project

Alright, Week Two Update. We're one third of the way through! Let's go!

Last week I was at 4,140 Words, 10.35%.

This week I'm at 17,995 Words, which is 44.9875%

Okay! From being a bit under target last week, I have seriously picked up the pace. I've managed to find my feet with this book a lot more, even adding in some fun new chapters I didn't originally intend, and keeping up the momentum of writing a decent amount each day.

I hope I can keep this up, but I'll likely wind up taking a bit of a break at some point. I am enjoying this though.

Anyway, as with last week, I'll post an excerpt of the last bit I've been writing. This time, Gideon and Madeline are being questioned by a detective that Gideon has known for a long time.

Enjoy below the break.

They got about three steps outside the door before someone shouted.

“Mr Tailor,” the voice beckoned.

Gideon knew the voice. He turned, wearing his best smile, to the pleasant if slightly older face of Detective Holida.

“Johnny! Always a pleasure,” he greeted with a deliberately false grin.

“Mr Tailor. Miss Anthorne,” he greeted them in turn, lighting a pipe and taking a puff. He was the sly kind of man who, in perhaps a few more years, could carry off a pipe.

“Hello, Officer Holida,” Maddy said meekly, trying to remain invisible.

“What brings you here, Johnny?” Gideon said brightly. “And how’s the husband. Marriage counselling going well?”

Holida puffed his pipe. “I’m not here to discuss my love life, Mr Tailor.”

“I’m just trying to work out of there’s an opening.” Gideon shot him a wink.

“Really. Rumour has it you’re with Miss Scarlet, right?” Holida countered.

“Oh, Miss Scarlet doesn’t date anyone. Any of her regulars could tell you that,” Gideon parried. “But you? I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

Holida chuckled in a sour way. “You really think the gay jokes are doing you any favours?”

“Whose joking? You’re a good looking man,” Gideon answered. “But, anyway, what brings you to my door, Detective?” he continued, their pleasantries out of the way.

“Potentially a pair of handcuffs,” Holida said sharply. “I got an anonymous tip that you, Mr Tailor, were involved in a robbery earlier this week.”

“Me? A robbery? Which one?” Gideon put a hand to his chest in an offended way.

“How many robberies have you done?” Holida challenged. “Ever heard of Efram Malik?”

Gideon shook his head. “I’m not really a tech person.”

“But… how would you know he’s a tech person if you don’t know who he is?”

“What else would he be?” Gideon shrugged.

With that unassailably stupid reasoning, Holida moved on. “Mr Malik’s home was robbed last week of almost a hundred grand in art and electronics. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

Gideon glanced around. There was a cop car waiting nearby, but this wasn’t an arrest. Not unless he confessed here and now. This was just so he’d lie and entrap himself.

“Why do you think it was me?” Gideon asked.

“Because the tip we got specifically named you,” Holida answered flatly.

Gideon paused. That was a ill omen. Still, Holida’s partner was still in the car. This wasn’t an arrest.

“And you believe them, this anonymous voice?” Gideon thought about that more. “And the tip didn’t come from this Malik gentleman himself? That’s weird, right?”

“It is odd, yes. You wouldn’t happen to have an alibi, would you?”

“You haven’t told me the date or the time, Detective.”

“Thursday, somewhere between eight o’clock and five in the morning. That’s when the cleaners found the place in disarray.”

“I would have been at home in bed,” Gideon said innocently. “I get to bed early these days. Busy with work.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to have a witness for this?”

“Well, there’s Madeline here. She can vouch for me. She goes to bed at the same time. Different beds though, of course.”

“Can confirm,” Maddy said simply.

“Right,” Holida rolled his eyes. The alibi was as strong as tissue paper and everyone knew it. “What do you two do for a job nowadays, Mr Tailor?”

“Currently unemployed but freelance,” Gideon answered confidently. “Maddy got fired from her cleaning job just this morning actually. Tell me, is it illegal to fire someone because they have a disability?”

“Are you looking to report someone?”

“I’m just wondering,” Gideon shrugged. “But, if that’ll be all, we do need to get going. Nice seeing you, Johnny.”

“And where are you going?” Holida asked, narrowing his eyes again.

“My niece’s sister’s birthday. It promises to be a big affair,” Gideon smiled. They were back in their obvious lying game.

“And you're sure you were nowhere near the robbery?”

Gideon caught that one. “You haven’t told me where Mr Malik lives, Johnny.”

"Right." Holida smiled in a frustrated way. “You realise I know you’re full of shit, Gideon.”

“I’m not inclined to argue,” Gideon said calmly.

“First of all, I know you don’t have a sister.”

“A hasty marriage in the family.”

“You don’t have any siblings whatsoever,” Holida asserted. Then his face creased. “Wait, wouldn’t your niece’s sister also be your niece?”

Gideon let false revelation crest his face. “You know, you might be right. Huh. That would explain the salty Christmas card last year. Oh well, I’ll apologise next time I’m round. I think I owe my uncle’s brother an apology too.”

Holida glared him down, acid in those eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath.

“Don’t leave town, Mr Tailor. We’re currently looking into DNA evidence found at Mr Malik’s home, and if your name comes up, then your little jokes won’t save you.”

“Well, let’s hope it won’t match then,” Gideon countered. And he knew Holida was confident about the DNA. The officer had snuck a bottle from the trash years ago for a sample. Too bad it was actually a bottle belonging to one of Fey’s patrons.

“I’ll be seeing you, Mr Tailor,” Holida said and returned to his car.

Gideon watched him go. Someone had tipped him off, and he suspected that was making Holida nervous too. People usually only tipped off the authorities about brown people looking suspicious on their street, being suspicious being code for them existing. They didn’t anonymously tip off the police about massive art heists. Especially not by name. But beyond the name there wasn’t enough proof to link anyone to it, they’d been sure of that, so he wasn’t too worried.

“That was… odd,” Maddy considered. “And do you always need to flirt with him like that?”

“Yet another oddity,” Gideon agreed, as they went on their way. “And yes. It’s how we communicate.”

[veryace-ficrecs]

Gen Stranger Things Fanfic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)  

This list is only General Audience Fanfic! enjoy (*￣3￣)╭

He Can Love Three Things by Capriciously_Terminal

“I think you’re beautiful,” Steve tells Eddie when they’re standing on a basketball court in the middle of a day that’s so hot you could practically skin your knee against it. It’s a moment of stillness like a snapshot. Like freeze-tag, when you had to thunder to a stop at the slap of a hand and just do nothing with all that momentum you’d been in the middle of using.

(AKA Steve Harrington can love Eddie Munson AND basketball as a treat)

Dustin Henderson and the Lovebirds by pukner

"You look like you've been mauled, dude," says Lucas. Then, after a beat, "Oh, ew."

"What the fuck," says Dustin, cottoning on, "What the fuck. This is hell, you didn't."

"Oh, I did," says Eddie, with the air of someone who's won something. He looks like the proverbial cat who's got the canary, if the canary wore polos and listened to Blondie.

"Shut up," Steve mutters, flushing as he seems to register what's happening, "Guys, it's not what you--uh, this isn't what it looks like--"

Or, five times Dustin Henderson was subjected to Eddie Munson being gross and sappy and in love with Steve Harrington, and one time Steve didn't even have to be there.

truly the angel's best by unkreativstermensch

Because he is only human after all, a gay human, actually, with a huge, embarrassing gay crush on Steve Harrington (just a crush though, no real feelings, no because that…hahaha, that would be a real fucking problem and Eddie has enough of those, seriously) and now…

Now that exact Steve Harrington is standing there, in the middle of the living room, in front of the sofa all the gremlins are scrambled on together and- and he’s holding a baby.

Eddie feels like the breath got knocked right out of his lungs.

Or: Steve with babies is the cutest thing in the world and you cannot convince the author (or Eddie) otherwise.

Always Look on The Upside (of the Tip Jar) by Capriciously_Terminal

Steve, the new one who was distinctly crown-less except some pin on his apron with a French quote from Le Morte d’Arthur, which Robin read in actual French and had given him for Christmas even though they’d all been forced to provide a separate twenty-five dollar gift for the staff white elephant exchange, generally hid in the walk-in when people he’d generally been dickish to walked in.

But this time, the long-haired guy Steve had at one point terrorized, walks right up to Steve and has an incredibly odd request.

(AKA Steve Harrington, local barista, forgets a guy's name but does remember their past).

Make Me Look Good by Elle_dubs (avril_o)

A Life For Every Year (And One For After) by Kedreeva

Eddie works in a tuxedo rental shop.

Steve rents a tuxedo for prom, he's taking Robin.

Light shenanigans. 

Steve meets her when he is nine years old. She is skin and bones, and fits in the cup of his hands like a tiny, furry tennis ball and her purr rattles against the skin of his palms.

----

Or, the one where baby Steve adopts the same stray kitten as baby Jonathan.

come and rest your bones with me by MacksDramaticShenanigans

“We’re making a fort.”

Steve is barely even halfway through the door when he is accosted with the declaration. His slick raincoat is still zipped up, his wet umbrella still wide open and dripping onto the porch behind him.

“What?” He asks, fumbling to close the umbrella and shake it out before a stack of blankets are being shoved into his arms.

“We are making a fort,” Eddie repeats, grinning at Steve. He’s got his own heap of blankets bundled against his chest, and when Steve glances past his shoulder he can see that the bones of said fort are already mostly established — Wayne’s armchair has already been moved from its cozy corner of the room to now sit directly across from the couch, and the coffee table has been pushed to the side so as to not be a nuisance to the building process.

And, well, it sounds like a lot of fun, actually.

“Yeah, sure, alright,” Steve replies with a huff of a laugh.

hash brown, egg yolk (i will always love you) by MacksDramaticShenanigans

Six months is a long time to be apart. A long time to go without seeing Eddie in the flesh. Without hearing his laugh, low and melodic, right against the shell of his ear. Without hugging Eddie around the middle and hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder while he stands at the stove and pushes something delicious around a pan. Without kissing Eddie.

But so is the way of being married to a hotshot musician with a band that has more than made it big.

Because that's what Eddie is. And, god, Steve couldn’t be more proud.

Even if it does mean that sometimes he and Eddie have to go long stretches of time without seeing each other.

But that doesn’t matter anymore. Because Eddie is home now, and he’s going to be home for a while. Corroded Coffin just wrapped up the European leg of their tour (“Fucking Europe, Stevie! Can you believe it!”) and they’ve been given a month before their North American leg is set to start. A whole entire month that Eddie already promised he will be spending at home with Steve.

Starting today.

Hey, Jude by Sharpbutsoft (BuckysButt)

 The phone only gets a chance to trill once before Eddie snatches it up from the cradle.

 He’s been waiting for this all day.

 “You’ve got Eddie,” he says, even though only a handful of people know what hotel he’s staying in, his room number. Even fewer would risk calling him right before a show, but he’s got a car on standby to collect him once he’s done, and this is a very important phone call.

 “Is that how you’re greeting your husband now?”

To Get A Recipe by Catnerys

Seven months after the apocalypse literally tore through Hawkins and his miraculous not-death, Eddie does the second bravest thing he ever did and calls Steve.

I Don't Have to Leave Alone by Capriciously_Terminal

Eddie Munson's "European Tour" (i.e. running away to Germany) had hardly been glamorous and he'd expected the same from his homecoming.

Count on Steve Harrington to ruin that by picking him up from the airport.

(AKA There's nothing softer than someone getting you from the airport)

i’ll stop the world and freeze with you by wynnyfryd

Eddie promised he’d take Max ice skating, only… Only he doesn’t actually have a single solitary fucking clue what he’s doing, alright? Good thing there’s a very helpful Hot Guy who can assist. 

 Phantom Scent by CrystalDragonette

Nancy was only supposed to check on Steve since he wasn't answering the walkie-talkie. Instead she hears him giving Barb a life update

With surprise visitors

your Midas touch on the Chevy door by sarcasticassian

last night his fiancee had blurted out that she was a lesbian and Steve’s perfectly built up walls came crashing down and a tidal wave of feelings rushed in reminding him of his own not so straight sexuality as well and now he’s stood in a side room in the town church and his gay fiancee is waiting just outside the doors to walk down the aisle and he can’t do it

----

a sort of arranged marriage scenario but also some freedom fighting

eddie munson's foolproof test (to see if a guy is sticking around) by loverboysteve

Eddie has a test.

It took some time to formulate, a few too many times with guys careless with his heart, who leave behind more heartache than happiness littered in their memory. It’s fucking hard to tell.

More than once, there’s been a dude who promises between kisses 'i’m not going anywhere' and takes more than his fill during a night which Eddie desperately hopes is passion and not some misguided lust. Only to wake a familiar empty side of the bed, them gone — skipping town, back in the arms of their parent-approved girlfriend, or back to spitting his name out with the word freak.

It’s what the test is for.

Secret Sweater by Maybird315

Eddie learns how to knit so he can make Steve an ugly sweater

A Kiss in the Snow by Sparkle_Fiend

Eddie is going all out for Christmas - there's a lot to celebrate this year. He survived the Upside Down, he and Wayne have a new house, and Eddie has a boyfriend. Unfortunately, his plans are derailed when the weather turns foul and Steve doesn't show on time. 

 What the hell are you wearing? by thebridgetonarnia

Steve and Robin wear matching ugly christmas sweaters, Eddie is confounded by them. 

The Perfect Team by MixAddams

Steve doesn’t hate DnD, he just doesn’t get it. 

Harrington Family Reunion by damnwellworthit

Steve gets the chance to take a plus one to the family reunion so he takes the opportunity

[iamxinyitrading]

Trading Strategies to Navigate the Lunar New Year Market Shift

As someone from Taiwan, Chinese New Year has always been a time for family, reflection, and, of course, plenty of food! But as a trader, I’ve also come to realize how this holiday impacts the markets. Before joining ORION Wealth Academy, I never really thought about how something as cultural as the Lunar New Year could create real trading opportunities. Now, it’s a key part of how I plan my trades.

Markets don’t stop just because we take a break to celebrate. In fact, Chinese New Year brings predictable patterns in forex, stocks, and even crypto — and knowing how to take advantage of them can make all the difference.

How Chinese New Year Affects the Markets

I used to think the markets would just be quiet during the holiday, but after learning from ORION, I realized that’s only part of the story. Here’s what I now keep an eye on:

🐉 Forex Market — The Chinese yuan (CNY) stabilizes as China’s financial markets close, but once trading resumes, policy changes and economic shifts can cause big moves. Even the Taiwan dollar (TWD) and Japanese yen (JPY) tend to react.

📈 Stock Market — In Taiwan, we usually see a rally right before the New Year as investors adjust their positions. Post-holiday, we often get a market rebound, which can be a great trading opportunity.

🏮 Gold & Commodities — Gold is deeply tied to Chinese culture, especially during New Year when gifting gold is a tradition. This demand pushes gold prices up before the holiday, something traders can take advantage of.

💰 Crypto Market — Many traders in Taiwan and China have moved into crypto, and while trading volume slows during the holiday, post-New Year liquidity tends to bring back volatility — a perfect setup for smart traders.

Since joining ORION Wealth Academy, I’ve started looking at markets differently. Here are three key lessons that help me approach Chinese New Year as both a celebration and a trading opportunity:

🎊 Timing is Everything — Just like waiting for midnight to light fireworks, knowing when to enter and exit a trade makes all the difference. Markets may be slow during the break, but post-holiday momentum can offer amazing opportunities.

🧧 Risk Management is Non-Negotiable — Spending during New Year is fun, but I always set a budget. Trading is the same — using stop-losses and smart risk management keeps me in the game long-term.

🐉 Plan Ahead for the Post-Holiday Bounce — The best traders don’t just react, they prepare. ORION has taught me how to spot trends before they happen, so I know where to position myself when the market kicks back into high gear.

Trade Smarter This Chinese New Year with ORION

I used to focus only on celebrating during the Lunar New Year, but now I see it as both a time for family and an opportunity to trade smarter. Thanks to ORION, I’ve learned how to navigate seasonal trends, manage risks, and make strategic moves when others aren’t paying attention.

If you’re looking to level up your trading in 2024, now is the time. Join the ORION community, where we talk about real market trends, break them down, and apply strategies that work.

新年快乐！🎇 Wishing you a prosperous, successful, and profitable Year of the Dragon! 🐉💰📈

How do you plan to trade during the holiday? Let’s discuss! 🚀

[the-inkwell-variable]

ALIEN: UNCIVIL WAR by BRENDAN DENEEN

War will always find a man like you. This ALIEN story begins where most end: with a xenomorph loose on a damaged spaceship hurtling through space. Once a highly decorated marine, Chris Temple, a recently widowed single father to two young daughters, Jane, 11, and Emma, 8, is onboard. Despite his particular set of skills, Chris doesn’t get involved in the fight with the alien, instead focusing on keeping his children safe as the ship comes in for a crash landing. The family land safely on an idyllic outpost planet, where Chris is told that the ship has been destroyed beyond recognition and nothing could have survived the crash. That’s only the first lie. Chris and his daughters love their new life, but something doesn’t feel right. Chris is a paranoid type, but just because he’s paranoid, doesn’t mean he’s wrong. There are nasty surprises in store as Chris investigates the web of lies and conspiracies. After leaving a ruined Earth, it seems Chris and his daughters have crash-landed on a planet on the verge of all-out civil war. Chris will have to call on the battle skills he never wanted to use again in order to protect his daughters, deal with violence-hungry marines, and battle the xenomorph that's killing people regardless of which side of the civil war they're on.

RATING :: 2.5 / 5

Review under the cut! 🚨 Beware SPOILERS! 🚨

Please remember that these are only my opinions. Read the book yourself - your mileage may vary. 💜

🚨 TRIGGER WARNINGS - violence, death, gore🚨

I have a confession to make. Until ALIEN: ROMULUS came out, I had never seen a single Alien movie. I liked the concept - the Xenomorph design is cool as hell - Sigourney Weaver is badass. My friend Chris wanted someone to go with him to see ROMULUS, and I was like "heck yeah, my first Alien movie." And I loved it - I know it's controversial, but I personally really loved it.

So when this book came across my radar, I snapped it up. I wanted to see more of the world-building and DEFINITELY more of the Xenomorphs. I went into this book excited and ready for some acid-blood, double-jawed, prehensile-tailed action.

Chris Temple, a retired Marine and recent widower, is moving to an outpost colony to get away from the turmoil on Earth. He and his daughters, Jane (11) and Emma (8), are three of very few people not in cryo-sleep on the USM Auriga - which is exactly why they survive. A Xenomorph is tearing through the ship, and Chris, his daughters, and his auton Alicia barely make it to the escape pods. Alicia distracts the Xenomorph so her human family can escape, and Chris ejects the escape pod - but he's not strapped down, so the sudden jolt of momentum knocks him clean out.

He awakens on OST, a mining colony sent by USM to mine the planet of quadromite, a seriously rare mineral. Lexa, the de facto leader of the colony, takes several days off work to help Chris and his girls acclimate to the colony, which is in a dome to protect from the harsh climate of the planet and aesthetically designed to look like twentieth-century Earth. At first, everything seems great. Everyone is super friendly and welcoming, the fresh produce is to die for, and they have a movie theater. The girls are smitten and beg their dad to let them stay here forever.

Lexa thinks this is a brilliant idea and keeps bringing it up every chance she gets. She offers Chris the job of Sheriff and goes out of her way to treat the family to every creature kindness available to them. But Chris has a bad feeling. Nothing is this perfect. They're hiding something - they have to be.

The pacing starts off fast - which makes sense, they're being chased through a crash-landing ship by a Xenomorph. The action in the first chapter is fantastic, coming to a jarring halt by Chris getting knocked out. Then we're suddenly a year in the past, with Alicia protecting the girls from two scummy thieves that have broken into their house while Chris is away. That chapter was interesting, as it established that Alicia is becoming sentient and struggling to come to terms with that, but it really ground the momentum of the story to a complete halt. I feel like there were other ways to incorporate that reveal without needing a flashback - especially since we get no other flashbacks throughout the rest of the book.

The book slows to a crawl at this point. Even when the facehuggers infect two miners - even when USM arrives to launch an assault on the colony - even through the battle scenes and Chris attempting to guide his family to safety while two Xenomorphs ravage every person they can get their claws on.

Speaking of the Xenomorphs - the core of the entire Alien franchise - we barely see them. We get snippets here and there, one of them from the Xenomorphs' perspective, which was actually really cool - but for the most part, they just kind of pop in, kill someone, pop out. They're only mildly a threat in this book. It was like reading a zombie book that didn't have any zombies in it.

I get it - the book is called Uncivil War, it's about a civil war, but personally, I was hoping for a lot more Alien in an Alien book. And Lexa killed one so easily. Literally one bullet through the head. Correct me if I'm wrong, Alien fans, but I was under the impression that Xenomorphs are a lot harder to kill than that!

Character development really doesn't happen. We learn more about the characters and their motivations, but they don't really grow or change throughout the book. Most of them have a single character trait - the nerd scientist, the charismatic leader willing to kill for her colony, the aggressive mining boss, the drunk miner(s). The kids are really mature for their age, to a point that it's almost unbelievable. Once in a while, Emma (the eight year old) throws a tantrum or screams when she's scared, but for the most part? They laugh and play until it's Time To Get Serious, and then they are perfect little soldiers, silent at their dad's side, immediately obeying his orders without an ounce of fear. I get some kids are like that, but during the danger, these kids felt more like small adults than actual kids.

Warnings! The violence is pretty brief and clinical, described to a minimum. Deneen focuses more on the people's emotions than actually describing the violence. If you don't like violence, you'll like the first half of the book but not the second, so maybe skip this one.

Personally, I'm kind of regretting reading this book. The first half was okay - I was curious to find out what was going on behind the scenes at the colony and excited to see when the Xenomorphs were going to show up and wreck stuff. But the second half? The part where the action starts and everything goes to hell? It was honestly a slog to get through. I found myself constantly checking the page number, not to update my Storygraph stats (which I'm obsessed with right now), but to see how much longer I had to sit through this. I was so tempted to DNF several times, but I kept convincing myself to continue. "Surely the Xenomorphs will become a threat soon. Surely I'm going to see some cool alien action in this book. Just a couple more pages, surely." But it didn't really happen, and I'm left with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Thanks for reading my book review! Remember, this review is just my opinion. I (almost) always recommend you read the book yourself and see if you like it!

HAVE A BOOK RECOMMENDATION FOR ME? SHOOT ME AN ASK!

[skiimbii]

> dead stars + the 1st law

I've saved up a couple of these over the past few months in a notebook, but it's sometimes hard to remember the entire idea when it's been so long. This one came to me eating breakfast, thinking about all of the different fandoms I've left over the years. Fond memories! Except for the embarrassing ones, haha.

The first law of thermodynamics states that energy can't be created or destroyed, simply converted from one form to another. I'm sure this is something that many people learn in grade school and then forget. Additionally, if you somehow took a class or watched a documentary where they talk about space, you might know about the star death cycle (or, if you watched, like, interstellar. I'm not sure if they discuss that there). This is about writing, so why am I mentioning physics? I wasn't even very good at science - but it's because of fandoms. Dead fandoms, specifically.

I don't believe that dead fandoms are as common as people make them out to be. To me, a fandom is only truly dead when it has reached a complete zero - no fans, no new material, no attention or movement in any way whatsoever. As long as one person is still there, being a fan of something, it's still kicking! Someone still loves it. And that takes a very long time, for the most part. If it's on the internet, it's going to find its way into someone's view, even if it's been years since it was released. Plus, social medias have a way of making the most random bullshit trend, so who's to say that it won't have a resurgence years or decades after the fire has died down (think about things like remakes)? Not to mention that creators are also often fans of their own works.

So, if what normally constitutes a 'dead' fandom doesn't apply in these conditions; then what exactly are these 'dead' fandoms? If they're not dead, what sort of fucked up schrödinger's cat are we keeping in that box? I've created a couple of different categories, because just saying that they're not dead isn't enough for me.

They're not dead, just colder (Neutron Star): you were used to seeing this fandom always at the top of the trending tabs, fans always popped up under the most random shit, and now? It's like they never even existed! Once in a blue moon you'll see a profile picture of it, but it's rare. That doesn't mean that the fandom is dead. A lot of fandoms are like fireworks; they burn hot and bright, only to fizzle out fast and suddenly. It usually results from that fandom having an unnatural boom in popularity. Most people don't fixate on things for too long, and move along with the trends. Not dead!

They're not dead, just older (White Dwarf): the most common type of dead fandom, but the quietest. Usually, it stems from the lack of new content from the creator(s). Nothing crazy, and it's just part of the natural cycle that fandoms take - nothing can keep intense momentum forever, after all. The dedicated fans stay, but there's less overall hubbub. Not dead!

They're not dead, just cancelled (Black Hole): I've seen a crazy uptick in fandoms that end this way over the last few years. The creator does something that causes them to be cancelled en-masse online, and as a result many people jump ship, or the media becomes really shit. Funnily enough, this type is the closest to death. No one wants to stay in company that has been written off by most of the internet, and the ones who stay usually support their wrongdoings or are just children (ie. easily manipulated). Unfortunately not dead!

There's usually a mix of these three types that make up the reasons why a fandom 'dies' in the public's view, because death isn't an easy thing to figure out the cause of. I'll circle back to the title of the post now, so this all makes sense; new energy cannot be created, only converted into other forms. A star will die, but how fast that end comes is decided based off of its size. What the fuck have I brought these two ideas to the table for? (I promise it's not just to give my categories cute star-related names.)

Fandoms don't really die. I mean, you think about whatever kid's show you were really into as a kid, and you might not be a fan, but you still think of it fondly, no? Death is such a difficult thing for a fandom to reach, because it's less about dying and more about forgetting. Whatever old enthusiasm you had about that thing doesn't die, either. You don't forget how to feel excited over things that are up your alley, do you? It just changes forms, into a new fandom, into something that might be similar but better. It's not a new concept I'm talking about here, it's just thermodynamics.

Stars die, but it's not like they cease existing. They don't poof away - there are different forms they can take, but they're all corporeal in some way. They're all still there. It's the same way with fandoms, I think. The content is still there, so it's not really dead, because it's not really forgotten. The form that they take in the end, whether cancelled or hated or beloved, it's different but it's still a star. Their remains might be used to build new stars, new galaxies that needed that fuel source that will eventually become long forgotten. It may make a vacuum that consumes everything in sight, until something else comes to fill its place. The process to that death takes millions of years. It's all so interesting and terrifying and makes you think that maybe it's not worth it to be near a star at all.

I'm leaving this off with a note of encouragement, as someone who's written a lot of original stories that never got attention, characters that were scrapped or dumped on me 'divorce-custody of the kids-style', fandoms that I've left; it's so worth it to waste that time. There's no such thing as destroyed energy and there's no such thing as wasted time when it's something you enjoyed doing. Join whatever fandom you want at whatever dedication level you wish to give it. It's all here to have fun with, anyways. Art is here to make us feel. It wants to be remembered. Your art isn't dead, as long as you're still a fan of it. Your OC doesn't die until you tell them to.

I got the last half of the title of this from the last two songs on Muse's The 2nd Law album. The first half comes from Muse's song Dead Star, on an EP album of the same name. Give them a listen, if you want!

[bllsbailey]

NEW: Internal Tensions Roil Kamala Harris Campaign Even As Press Declares Nothing but 'Joy'

The thing about putting lipstick on a pig is that underneath the lipstick, you've still got a pig. That's the Kamala Harris campaign right now, at least according to a new report on the internal tensions roiling her operation. 

There's no doubt the vice president turned presidential nominee without winning a single primary vote has some momentum. There is a sheer jubilance among Democrats simply because they have someone other than Joe Biden to vote for. Much of what is bolstering Harris isn't organic, though. It's the result of a relentless press campaign to redefine her as a talented, likable politician full of "joy." MSNBC even compared Harris to Taylor Swift.

But while the propaganda machine is hitting on all cylinders, Kamala Harris is still Kamala Harris, and that's apparent behind the scenes. 

Kamala Harris’ campaign is navigating internal tensions as a team of new senior strategists take hold of an operation largely staffed by people hired when Joe Biden was the Democratic nominee, according to six people, including aides familiar with the dynamics. Longtime Harris loyalists are also chafing at the continuing presence of some Biden aides known for disparaging the vice president, three of the people said. The unfolding friction is the result of an unprecedented overhaul of the Democratic ticket less than three months before the election, a daunting task that requires integrating two political worlds while at the same time selecting a vice presidential nominee and battling former President Donald Trump.

Keep in mind that we are talking about a person who had 92 percent staff turnover in the last four years. That wasn't by sheer chance. Harris is a deeply difficult person to work for, with reports painting her as borderline abusive to her underlings. 

In the case mentioned above, the situation is a bit more complicated. When Biden dropped out of the race, he left behind a fully staffed presidential operation. The last thing Harris wanted to do was start firing people because that would lead to dissent breaking out into the open. That's left the vice president desperately trying to hold a house of cards together that is chock-full of operatives who hate each other. 

The question is how long she can keep this charade going. She has the press on her side, and that's a big asset as far as tamping down leaks.

What Harris does have in her favor right now is time, not because there's so much left before election day but because there's so little left. Given enough time, she would self-destruct as she's always done. Harris has not suddenly become an excellent politician, but if she can stay away from the off-the-cuff situations that have historically haunted her, she may be able to run the clock out. 

Still, there is at least one debate coming up, and that is probably the best chance Donald Trump will get to knock Harris off her astroturfed sugar high. If her campaign begins to falter at all, you could start to see cracks form, given how weak the foundation is. 

[x3rrorx]

Carrying on from the anon who was saying about the momentum slowing down.

I know this will probably sound like criticism but I don't mean it that way.

For me, I think the TDOPOM cycle has just felt overly long, but I think part of that is because of the blow up in their popularity and them taking advantage of that which is understandable.

They released TDOPOM early 2022 and if you look at what they were doing around that time they were going on tour as support for Underoath followed by In This Moment, then spent the summer opening for A Day To Remember before announcing their headliner, A Tour of the Concrete Jungle. All of that was pretty standard for them at that time with where they were in their career and fanbase size.

Around that time is also when they started going viral on tiktok and entered a whole new world of craziness.

Start of 2023 they did A Tour of the Concrete Jungle Europe and went to Australia, but then when they came back to the US they announced Will We Both Go Home Alive? (Was it called that? Did that tour really have a name?) for May and then Concrete Forever for September/October.

Now we're into 2024, coming up to the two year anniversary of TDOPOM release, and we're on Concrete Forever Europe, still got a few Concrete Forever US dates that were rescheduled and added in, and we've not seen the TDOPOM Deluxe yet!

So for one album cycle we've had three headling North American tours, two headling European tours, a trip to Australia, a cycle of American festivals, upcoming American festivals and a summer of European festivals, and the supporting shows they've done with Underoath, In This Moment, A Day to Remember and Bring Me The Horizon. That's a lot!

They've made the most of their rapid growth by packing in tours and shows, but that's obviously not leaving a lot of time for creating, especially when part of their time will be taken up by creating the production for the next tour since their production has grown with every step.

Out of the tours and shows mentioned I think Australia and In This Moment are the only two I haven't been to (Concrete Forever EU is upcoming), so clearly I enjoy watching them perform but I'll admit it's definitely time for something new because the past two years hasn't seen a whole lot of variation in their set list, and I'm not someone who can get out of my mind excited over a few key changes.

Kudos to them for taking advantage of their new success, but there comes a point where you need to say 'enough, enough now' and move on to something new in order to keep enough people engaged with you, and to keep momentum. I know V.A.N is obviously something new, but I do wonder just what the Deluxe is going to give us because it's bold to be that confident that you've kept people waiting two years (possibly more) and that enough people will still buy into it. Obviously looking at their fanbase you know the complete die-hards are going to eat up whatever they get given, but they're not enough to sustain the success Bad Omens have achieved thus far, and I've seen a lot of people question the time frame on the Deluxe. There's also the question of whether we'd even be getting a Deluxe on this speculated scale if they hadn't enjoyed the success they have, or if it might have been more like FGBGFM, or if there would have even been a deluxe at all.

Personally, I'm more excited for the fourth studio album, and I think then we'll have a better idea of where Bad Omens could sit in history and how sustainable their current popularity is. Plus, I'm just looking forward to completely new music from them and a new performance cycle.

[honey-lemonz]

Kokushibou [Satisfied smut]

Xmale reader

3rd

Warning! Sexual Content!

Includes: stress sex, fight then fuck, koku being a bratty bottom, biting,blowjob, marking, multiple orgasms ,multiple rounds, over stimulation,  dirty talk, fighting during sex, degradation (heavly). Hiding, slapping, spitng, and a spite fuck. Goodness..Enjoy!

Kokushibou pushed the archer against the wall as both were fighting.

For almost 7 hours.

(M/n) or the archer was happily living on his land and was fine but. The dam fake Samurai had other plans to upset that. Like attacking him. Gods they hated each other..

To the point it was not comical.. no no.

Sexual almost.

Two strong men grunting and groaning, one with blood all over him..for being the one with more hits. Sweat on their bodies and one with his hair arrayed. Kokushibou was losing it.

Internally and externally.

Internally he could not understand why he was feeling slightly aroused in battle, especially with this fucker. The archer demon named Yasumebu (M/n). A demon he hates because he reminds him of his late twin.

Someone who is superior and most likely would be superior to him.

He felt his cock trying to poke in his hakama pants. His kimono was sticking to the sides on his body as he was forced on to the ground. Yasumebe was about to prepare an arrow until..

Kokushibou moved his leg to reveal he was aroused but no on purpose or on invitation. But (m/n) was the only other demon around who could have done this to him. To him it was weird. He froze the arrow and squinted at the Samurai.

He but his foot on Kokushibou's growing hard on and moved it without any sign of being gently. 

Kokushibou groaned and hissed at him. About half of his eyes, the three on the left pinched shut. It was not out of pain but only pleasure. This made Yasumebe..disgusted to say the least.

But also he wanted to kill the upper rank for what he had done...but torture is always a better cause.

"Look at you..you pervert. Getting aroused with me in a fight you picked..how promiscuous..really are that much of a bastard you need a dick in you to make you feel whole?"

He moved his foot more vigorously, it made the upper rank squeak but not moan. No! He will never get any sign of pleasure from him. "I-I am not, aany an c-can get aroused. Never for oor from you-"

"Oh cut the bullshit you bastard. You attack me in my home and demand I die so you an be the best? Or is it jealousy? Jealous of me to the point you want me to fuck you? Make you a proud man with my cock stuffed into all your slutty holes?"

Kokushibou's six eyes widen. He dropped his sword from the feeling. What feeling is this? He asked himself. Demons cannot blush or anything but he could feel his ears burn and his cock ache and throb.

He hated him to the point it turned him on? Is that possible? No.

He hated Yoriichi but they were brothers and that is just wrong...but this dam archer..

Before he realized his mistake of thinking to deep, he got an arrow into his wrist and an arrow shot his sword far away from him.

"Well took you too long to answer the question so it is a yes, isn't it? Gods, I hate you but I always give whores like you a chance. By now you'd probably be satisfied sucking a cock and dying. The great upper rank one? Such a fucking slut.."

The arrow glued his wrist together so he could not move em, he could make another sword but he had to concentrate to do that.  He needed his full energy to do it but his energy was focused on..him..the archer and how he needed t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ him.

The archer pulled Kokushibou by his hair next to a stool, he was gracious or caring about it.  He hated him and as did he.

But goodness did he remember how they fought. How strong he looked and how much strength it goes into an arrow. Not that he thought the sport was worth this time, oh never. But him...it made his condition worse. His cock was probably leaking streams of precum.

"Must you fight, I am helping you. Trust me I do not want a whore like you anyways, a good one can shut up and take it..you..most likely are a brat or bitch about it.."

Kokushibou hearing this moved his combined wrist up to scratch the shit out of his arms like a fucking cat.

"Goodness if you want to mark me already! Dam, such a needy bastard...beat how many times you sucked your masters cock all these years...most likely didn't make you choke or gag for the hell of it..but now worries like defeat and death.."

He brought his up to his face. Both were around the same height, so it worked. But Kokushibou was now on a bedding and he was looking up at him. So he felt smaller. He hated it. But it aroused him.

Hate what pleasures you. But between you and I..is not the first he gotten aroused at the thought..

"I make sure to be the one to make it your first.. now if you bite he I cut you cock off too. Got it?"

Hell to Yasumebe it was an excuse to just make him feel a better or worse pain.

"Tsk, as ever I would do as you ask yo-"

He got fucking bitched slapped in the face. "Now I'm going to say this again. You were the one who got to be a perv right? You can suck your masters cock for all of eternity then you can suck a real mans one and not a cowards. Something you need to do. Bite me and you can burn in the sun with my cum all over and inside you. Now be a good brat and suck."

He stood above him with a tight grip on his head and hair. (M/n)'s own cock was out and the marvel it was had the upper rank's mouth salivating.

He just stared at it, like it was something new to him. "What you never seen another mans dick before? Always ready to ride and suck one for you life, so be the slutty brat you are and do what you know best. Go one you need help is my cock to big for your mouth? The one you use to pledge and talk shit? "

In his head he muttered, probably eat it too.

Kokushibou opened his mouth to rebuttal..dumb move. A thick and long length was shoved down deep into his throat. Making his gag on spit and the length. H opened his lower eyes to see not even all of it was in his mouth. The hell?

(M/n) hissed and moved his hips back and forth, he was fucking his face. "Good little slut, do what you know best bastard. Then maybe I can fuck your other hole, maybe even be nice and let you cum.:

Kokushibou groaned on his cock and moved tied wrist to get a grip and move on his own accord, but no avail. His own cock was in need of help. His mind was erasing with how much pleasure would come if he would get fucked like a whore.

Which he is.

His tongue lapped at the lip and it moved in and out his throat. He was pumping his cock with his hands at the same momentum. So feverish and so tempting, it make slick warm between his thighs. His ass flexed at the homewreacking feeling.

His large cock pushing in and out of his made him close two sets of his eyes and let where his true ones stay open. (M/n) hissed and pushed his head all the way to the hilt of his cock and made his stay there. Groaning as Kokushibou's mouth filled with an ocean of cum he swallowed.

The taste wasn't as bad as he imagined. His cock spurted some ropes of cum but he knew with how his luck was playing it would not be the first time tonight. He was allowed to breathe and swallow the rest. 

(M/n) looked down at him, his eyes were glossy and he was gasping for air.."Goodness you really are that bad.."

Kokushibou didn't care about his pride or his will, or even the envy. He felt hatred and pleasure. He needed to feel more, it was so addicting. It was like a slow burn he loved. The fire in the pit of his stomach burned for more. To be full , imagining that amount of cum stuffing his tight entrance or making his abdomen bulge..

To be breeded like a mating whore for him..

(M/n) pushed the Samurai to the side of the bedding and for him to be on his front. Ass up, he pulled the rest of his clothing off him. He would often scratch him or put marks he knew he could heal over..if he was concentrated enough.

His plump ass had goosebumps as his breath glazed across it. No kissing rather biting. He bite down on his ass. "For such a plump ass, you and kiss a lot of it aye? Sluts like you can be so troublesome but in the end.."

H sat up and got close to Kokushibou's ear. He moved his already messy and disheveled hair. His lapped his ear lobe and bite down to make it bleed.

"All of you are just bratty whores who need to be taught their place..." Two fingers were pushed into his slicked up entrance and they clung onto (M/n)'s fingers like glue. Kokushibou moaned out curses as he slumped down. He turned his head to the side to he the rest of his.

It felt too dam good. His fingers were so close to his prostate and so close to making his mind wipe to pure ecstasy and pleasure, even if he wasn't at it already. He moaned out without a care in the world. Asking no begging for more. It made (m/n) want to torture him more..

They did hate each other, but to one it was just funny.

"M-more, please fuck me more gods..please..fu-fu~ck.." he cursed as he spread his legs wider to make his fingers go deeper to touch or even at least brush his prostate.

His eyes were closed except the true ones, the only one he could keep open. Upper rank one was glossy and also looked like a bunch of whores eyes. He bucked his hips when his own forgotten and needy cock was slowly getting pumped.

"Wait- WAI- no ahh~" As soon as he pumped his length and pushed deeper into his hole, feeling for his prostate. He came again onto the bedding. He gasped loudly and slumped over. Kokushibou's cock twitched but was still erect.

"Well, what was it you were saying bastard? Or were you too busy cumming like a little whore to even finish? Hmm well it guess my cock can satisfy your perverted self, disgusting."

He spat on his gasping hole and moved his fingers out. The amount of slick or cum on his fingers made him laugh at the pathetic state of the upper rank. "Wow, such a slut for all this? Wonder how easy it is to break your ass and see you go silly."

He yanked almost his hips back up to his waist, Kokushibou swallowed thickly at what was about to happen. (M/n) stroke himself and placed the tip of his cock on Kokushibou's gaping whole.

"One more thing pervert.."

He leaned forward to upper rank one, Kokushibou felt his chilling breath on his ear. All his eyes widen as his cock slowly pushed into him. 

He whispered:

"I win slut.."

He slammed his cock into him, pushing harshly onto his prostate and making the upper rank yelp and moan loudly. He almost screamed, (M/n) gave him no time to adjust. Rather he fucked him ruthlessly. He used his hair and yanked it, making him look at the ceiling and also to feel himself hit deeper and deeper.

Kokusibou was babbling about more and more. Or how he hated him. Just either 'fuck me' or 'i hate you'. The archer demon did not care. He was a slutty pervert who got what he wanted. A good cock with a good fuck.

"Such a tight- little slutty whole..gods, im going to loosen it up for you and make sure no one couuld fuck you like I- ah~could..you'd like that Kokushibou? To be a slut and ask others to fill you with their cocks like I do?"

He thrusted faster and harder, Kokushibo's prostate was abused and he felt himself cum again and again. Due to his unlimited stamina and would be fine. But he was feeling drained, he felt so fucking stupid. He was getting fucked stupid even more.

(M/n) hissed when Kokushibou tightened around him, he groaned and growled as he shot thick ropes of cum into his ass. Filling him over his opacity and making his abdomen stretch to accommodate to the amount. 

All his eyes, closed with tear stains. Kokushibo's head was let go and he fell straight into the bedding. (M/n) looked at him and didn't bat an eye to spit on his face. His lower half was with filled with cum or covered in it. He cleaned himself and took his arrow out of his wrist and gathered the rest.

He looked one more time at the upper rank. The most feared of them all, looking like a slut in heat. He pulled the hair that would have been a neat pony tail but now is just out and disheveled. He made him look him in his eye.

"See now upper rank? Such a pathetic fighter and warrior, you did do one thing. Your were a decent fuck, not the best but decent." he patted his head and walked out the destroyed house.

Soon it was lit on fire. To destroy what ever was left.

Kokushibou luckily got away and out of the suns fury. But he did hate the archer demon with all he had, and envy him so much. But fuck... he sighed as he stroked his cock from the memory.

"He was right.."

His licked away the cum from his ass as he pulled away his fingers and from his hand. His cock throbbed at the dull feeling. The lackluster feeling inside him only his enemy gave him.

"I am such a whore for yasumebe.."

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽. 2)

 character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader 

a/n: ok so i just started writing on tumblr and honestly in my opinion for my first time posting smth on this the first part did really well thank u for all the likes :) (told from second pov; e.g you, your) reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: a lil bit angsty 

warnings: cursing, jealousy, mutual pining, slow burn romance, aged-up to third year, love triangle (square?), physical injuries, kirishima gets a little toxic, also shirtless bakugou (awooga), a crap ton of time skips bc i can’t write action scenes for shit, bakugou is a flirt (lowkey but yeah), mentions of blood 

word count: 2112

pt 1 , pt 3

- - - 

kirishima had broken the skin on his lower lip with how hard he was biting it. he stood in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth, ignoring the slight sting the water brought. 

y/n was currently being blasted by bakugou, and they were fighting back. 

jealousy panged in his chest. 

bakugou had never let him know about how he felt about you, however kirishima was sure he felt something for them. you and bakugou were both a jumble of prideful and longing stares towards each other from across every room. the tension was thick enough to slice through. and while kirishima would never make a move in fear of ruining the friendship between him and bakugou, as well as him and y/n, gosh it didn’t stop him from wanting to. 

he’d stood on the side, cheering you on to no end. the sports festival last year, the year before that, training exercises, he was always there. kirishima was always there. 

whenever you needed him, whenever you wanted his company. so what did bakugou have over him? sure, the blond was strong and had bigger goals than kirishima, but why should that matter? 

what did bakugou have? why would you want him more when he was never near you? never made an effort to see you to be there when you asked for help. 

it was popular belief that bakugou was a noisy idiot, but he was actually quite a quiet boy. he didn’t bother to raise his hand in class, however he always knew the answer. he spoke rarely and only made conversation with those he was close with if they were the ones to make the effort to converse with him first. 

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. kirishima despised it. 

whenever did he begin wanting to beat bakugou at something? 

the cloud of guilt welling up in his chest was going to become unbearable, and soon everything he ever wanted to say was going to come up like word vomit at the worst possible time. 

- 

you swiped at your cheek, brushing off the crumbling dirt. your timing had been off, and their flip backwards had landed you in an awkward position. a vulnerable one. 

honestly, though, it wasn’t like it really mattered. bakugou was a bit transparent himself. he wore a smug look like a golden medal, and held back his power just enough to keep you on your feet. 

his cocky attitude was irritating and it drew you in like a moth drawn to a lamp. 

sweat was beading down your temple. the day was exceptionally hot, the sun beaming down on your back like a proud child. 

you and bakugou had been at it for a while. with anyone else, you would have quit by now. it’s not that you gave up easily. no, not ever. but fights could get boring, especially if you were just smashing away at them with your quirk and they were acting like they could take it. 

perhaps you were being cocky. 

this fight, though. this was interesting. not only because it was bakugou; also because you knew so little about him. 

it was likely he never shared anything important to anyone. he was quite introverted. 

it was interesting for another reason. 

it was hot, bakugou sweats a lot. gosh, he looked delicious without a shirt on. he had a built figure accompanied by strong arms and a broad chest. 

he’d filled out quite nicely the past few years. you hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d grown. 

“don’t get distracted.” 

your eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes. bakugou became a blur, shooting himself off the ground and flipping once in the air before propelling himself back down. 

before you could do anything, bakugou had you pinned, one leg pinning yours, both his hands wrapped around your wrists. he’d ditched his gauntlets, leaving the metal assistants in the sweltering heat, claiming he wanted to give you an equal fight. 

he panted atop you, hands tightening. 

tokage didn’t bother to leave her dorm today, thank goodness. it had just been the three of you. you, bakugou, and kirishima. 

the red head had suspiciously vanished halfway through the fight, though.

bakugou’s crimson eyes bored into yours. neither of you blinked for a moment. perhaps just a small eternity each of you silently reveled in. 

his erratic breaths slowed, and so did yours, although you stayed the same. unmoving, faces neutral but eyes giving away long-held secrets. 

your ears flushed, and butterflies came rising up uncontrollably. you should have pushed him off. instead you gave him a wicked grin, which earned a look from him and you couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed. 

“your big ass forehead is blocking the bright-as-hell sun. stay like this,” you mocked, wrenching your wrists from his grasp and snaking your arms around his neck. 

his cheeks burned red. “w-what?” 

“you heard me.” 

he scoffed, tugging you off his neck and standing. “shut up, shitface. we aren’t even done yet.” he readied himself in a fighting stance once more. 

“i thought you said you wanted to stop when you won?” you brushed yourself off as you stood. 

“i know what i said. you probably weren’t even giving it your all.” 

“’course i was.” you cocked your head. “why wouldn’t i?” 

“you’re strong, damn idiot.” 

you feigned surprise, pressed a hand to your fluttering chest. “the bakugou, dynamight himself, complimenting a humble soul like me? oh, i really must be good, then.” 

“not as good as me.” his face dropped from a smile. bakugou never got enough training no matter how early or late he stayed up, or how many hours on the weekends were spent kicking a bag or sparring with friends. hard workers did all of the work there was a still wondered if they were doing enough. the number one spot wasn’t empty, but it was still reserved for dynamight. 

- 

y/n had collapsed on their bed. kirishima was itching to tell them how he felt, however he was stuck at the doorway. 

they weren’t even dressed for bed, nor were they showered. 

he settled with leaving his friend alone, and shut the door softly to find bakugou standing right behind him. 

kirishima jumped back, closing his eyes in relief. “bakugou. what the heck man?” 

“you’re creepy as shit.” 

“i- what? you were the one staring at me while i-” 

“while you peeped in on y/n?” 

“i wasn’t peeping. i walked them back after the fight and they just collapsed. you were off doing something else and you worked them too hard.” 

it wasn’t a shock that bakugou was still riled up from the duel. this boy had the energy of a mad man. 

when bakugou didn’t say anything, kirishima said once again, “you overworked them.” 

bakugou swat away the comment. “only because they’re not working hard enough.” 

kirishima raised an eyebrow. “they work hard. they’re perfectly fine.” 

“fine?” 

“they’re amazing.”

“i know that, shitty hair. you think i’m blind?” 

“everyone can make improvements at their own pace.” kirishima’s voice dropped. 

“you train with me.” 

“it’s an hour before curfew.” 

bakugou jut a thumb in the direction of the door. “so? maybe you need some more practice, too,” he joked. 

“you’re an ass, bakugou,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle. 

the two wandered off to one of the training grounds. it was open, a wide court where they’d both kicked someone else’s ass. 

the sun was just setting, a new cool breeze coming to fill the spot of the violent sun rays. 

it was routine to fight each other out of nowhere. kirishima was usually quite playful, spewing jokes once in a while and taunting his friend. 

this fight was different. his face was stone-cold. kirishima often took the defensive role, as his quirk didn’t allow him to project any direct attacks to bakugou.

it wasn’t like kirishima was angry at bakugou, but as soon as they started charging towards one another, he couldn’t hold back. his chest tightened, arms hardening and joints becoming strong and stiff. 

with one clean sweep of his arm, bakugou was backing away from kirishima, propelling himself to the edge of the arena with a small blast. he’d always been up for a challenge. kirishima was willing to give him one. 

his sudden competitive demeanor seemed to be egging on bakugou’s. the blond tongued the inside of his cheek, grunting as he shot forth, hair flying wildly. 

swiftly, kirishima dodged, just barely missing a blast. his torso wasn’t hardened, so if he’d dodged any later, his stomach would have been scorched. 

bakugou always took their fights seriously. he knew better than to underestimate the boy who had put together his very own rescue mission. 

kirishima’s opponent stumbled from the momentum. he took his chance and brought a hardened elbow down on bakugou’s back, hearing a satisfying crack. 

bakugou was crushed to the ground with the hit. his face smashed into the sandy ground. he coughed, turning over and spitting dirt to the side. 

it took a moment for him to register what he did, but kirishima was at bakugou’s side within seconds. the sun was nearly gone, a pale blue sky flickering with the first sights of stars. 

it was hard to make it out at first, but not impossible. kirishima saw the blood dripping and smeared just above bakugou’s lip. he groaned, cupping his face in both hands as he sat upright. 

“argh” bakugou gasped. “shit, kirishima. what the hell?” 

“i...i’m sorry dude, i didn’t mean to.” i wanted to, but i didn’t mean to. 

bakugou raised an eyebrow and let a smile seep through his pain. “you’re improving, though.” 

“are you alright?” kirishima traced the small cut on his lip from earlier with the tip of his tongue. 

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” bakugou swatted his hand away. he struggled to get up, refusing kirishima’s help. 

“we should head back before this gets any worse.” 

bakugou kept his large hands hovering under his chin to catch the dripping and occasional chunks of blood.  

although he wanted the duel to continue (it was finally interesting) bakugou wasn’t stubborn enough to keep going. so he nodded, once again denying kirishima’s efforts to help him out. 

- 

you were in the common area, fiddling with a rubik’s cube. it was just you, as everyone else was spending the night among each other. ashido had invited you to her dorm a while ago, but you’d denied, wanting to spend a few more giddy moments to yourself. 

the door rattled, and in came your two friends, one with furrowed brows and the other with blood drenching the front of his shirt. 

bakugou’s head was tilted up in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing down. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood trailing down the back of his throat. 

“oh my gosh,” you gasped out, racing to the bathroom. you came back with sanitary wipes in one hand and tissue in the other. “what happened?” 

“we were training,” kirishima started, taking a few tissues from the box and handing them to his friend, “and i accidentally hit him too hard.” 

“you didn’t hit me that hard. you barely did any damage!” bakugou objected. you approached him, and through his fingers, bakugou peered down at you. 

you asked him with your eyes, and he gave you silent permission to pry his arms away from his face. “are you okay?” 

“i’m just dandy,” he scoffed. 

“dude, i’m really sorry—” 

“shut the hell up kirishima. i don’t want your pity. i swear this is the only time i’ll surrender to you, you asswipe.”

you didn’t laugh, not even a chuckle. “bakugou, you need to see recovery girl.” 

“what the hell? no way. all she’s gonna do is give me one of those shitty slobbery kisses and scold me for being careless.” 

“your nose is broken,” you said gently. 

“so? can’t you fix it?” 

you raised a questioning brow. “you want me to help you?” 

“can you or can you not?” 

“i can try to set it but you’re better off going to recovery girl instead of settling with―” 

“all i need is possible. i don’t want to deal with that old lady’s shit right now.” using the tissues kirishima had stuffed into his hand, he caught the remaining blood dripping down his nose. “let’s go.” 

you were more than unsure. he would end up with a crooked nose if you made any small mistake, but he didn’t think twice as he grabbed your shoulder and led you in the direction of your dorm. 

- 

kirishima wished he hadn’t broken bakugou’s nose. not because he felt bad, though.