#so much purple prose

[pan-of-light]

He lied, lyingly, like a liar.

[dietmimo]

HSY: *feral screaming and cursing*

DKOS: I said I was sorry.

HSY: *feral screaming and cursing INTENSIVES*

----

[ID: Animated Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint fanart. Kim Dokja is in Demon King form, and he's much bigger than Han Sooyoung, who's comparatively tiny and is clinging to his nose and face while furiously yelling and thrashing around as Kim Dokja nervously tries to appease her. End ID]

ID by @princess-of-purple-prose

[lizard-isms]

congratulations to deeply strange individuals with symbolically significant round frame glasses, identity issues, purple color-coding, and middle part bangs, who lie, have an eventual twist betrayal, and are trapped near-inextricably in their circumstances (at least in part) by the hand of an evil horrifically manipulative groomer. and have leap year birthdays!!!

[ID: A screenshot of Anthy from Revolutionary Girl Utena and a screeenshot of Kabuto from Naruto. Both are shown smiling. End ID]

[t00thpasteface]

i will always cite this scene in a farewell to arms as being the best example of how flowery language isn't necessary to tell an impactful narrative. these are all incredibly common words and direct statements— there's no beauty or comfort in it— and that's exactly why this scene hits like a sledgehammer

[medics-secret-shipfic-folder]

So! Now that the first chapter of my new fic has been out for a few days, what do y'all think? Did I gave y'all nightmares? Did you guys like the storybook aesthetic?

Did I make you guys scared of Cmedic? Is the error 404 message doing it for any of y'all?

[cowchickenbeefpork]

I’m like half way through the first vampire chronicles book interview with the vampire. I think I love this around just as much as the show. Highly recommend if you are okay with the stains gothic horror has often with race and shit methinks. Probably one of my favorite things I’ve read

[milfygerard]

living in the inbetween hell where I dont hate or love ttpd enough to agree with anyone on the dash so im just sort of flinching whenever I see a post about it from any side

[daydreamdoodles]

Would you love me if I was a worm? No wait. That's silly. Sorry, let me rephrase that, would you love me if I was of no use to you? 10 little words designed to make you squirm, on the surface it's silly and yet I ask it with bated breath. If I couldn't be a wife, if I couldn't be a mother. Would you love me while vulnerable, helpless and weird. If I couldn't clean the house or put food on the table. Would I even be me to you. When my body is not as it once appeared. Do you love me or the things I do. When I'm not quite as useful. When wives get life threatening illness, 1 in 5 husbands leave. Will I be cast aside just as soon. Those don't seem like good odds. Would you build me an enclosure of flowers and dirt. When I'm not quite as pretty, will I end up as hurt? So I'm just asking, if I turned into a worm tomorrow. And could no longer provide you with anything at all, would the love remain? Will you offer me a pocket I'd be safe inside. Or is your love contingent on what I provide. Would you find a terrarium and fill it with mulch and keep me in the bedroom? When I'm not feeling human, stuck here with my pain. Would you spray me with water? It's just nice to imagine that love will remain. Would you keep me alive? Or would you throw me out on to the pavement. So I ask these questions to investigate some sweet hypothetical invertebrate. I think I would make you a house of popsicle sticks. I want to feel safe secure stable and firm. If you were a worm. So I ask, would you love me if I was a worm?

these beautiful monologues belong to these lovely people

[sundancefemme]

i would have been obsessed with this at like 17

[padfootastic]

“are you frustrated with me?” “never.” with prongsfoot please and thank you <3

hello! thank u for the ask (and waiting) <33 i hope u like this, because i’m so so happy with how this turned out 🙈

x

James finds him on the top of the Astronomy Tower, sitting atop the parapet in a way that makes his heart skip a beat even now, despite the fact that he should’ve gotten used to it. There’s a half gone cigarette in his hand and the ashes of several more all around him. Sirius’ lips are dry and cracked, his eyes drooping. James immediately casts his usual set of safety charms. As expected, that grabs Sirius’ attention.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving your skull from being turned into a pancake for the Hippogriffs.”

“Did I ask you to do that?” Sirius’ voice is sharp, a knife’s edge of bitterness and malice. (Though perhaps only James can sense the hollowness in it, see the performance he’s putting on)

“No, but I’ve done it anyway. Bully for you, Pads,” James shrugs, tucking his wand back into its holster. His posture is loose, unconcerned and he knows his nonchalance is only feeding into Sirius’ aggression. At least for now, when he needs to be angry to feel anything, needs that fire to remind him he’s still alive.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Sirius asks, turning his face away to exhale a puff of smoke. It makes James smile, though he hides it with a quick swipe of his palm, because even in this moment, with all the violence in the world itching to bubble out, Sirius still refuses to smoke around him, knowing his distaste for it.

“Just wanted to check up on you. See what you were doing.” James moves forward, until he’s almost within touching distance. It’s what allows him to see the twisting of Sirius’ features—a haunting sort of pain and agony painting a terrible picture with his beautiful features.

“I’ll do what I want, James,” Sirius sneers, face still turned away as if he can’t bear to look him in the eye while doing it, “and you can’t stop me.”

“Do you see me trying?” James asks, simply. That takes the wind right out of Sirius’ sails. James is used to this routine by now—having to prick the balloons of self righteous indignation and testiness and defensive anger that Sirius has around him in times like this. The trick, he’s learned, is to not take anything personally. Sirius has the ability to verbally destroy a person, leave his remains charred and smoking without looking back at the consequences of his actions. It helps him cope, expelling the ugliness that routinely builds inside him by directing out outwards. Sometimes, it’s some poor sod who didn’t sign up for being target practice being caught in the middle of it. More often than not, it’s James, though by his own volition.

Sirius tries, has been doing so since the moment they met, to protect him from this side of him—to shield him from the rough edges his family carved into him. It’s just his luck that James refuses to play along.

It’s that knowledge that pierces Sirius’ haze right now, as he knew it would, as it always does. Slowly, the anger melts into something softer, more contrite. The cigarette gets stubbed under his foot as he turns fully toward James, eyes downcast.

“Are you frustrated with me?” he asks in a whisper. James smiles at the action, the direct contrast from all his bluster mere minutes ago.

“Never.” He holds one hand out, facing up. It only takes a second before Sirius places his own in it, palm cold and desperately tight. James only pulls him tight, pressing a firm kiss to his temple, letting his actions speak louder than his words ever could.

[hellishvxbes]

the communities thing looks cool I won't lie.. but I am in agreement with a lot of folks who worry about it becoming super exclusive. And tumblr already has that huge ass problem as it is.

[rubberduckyrye]

I am SO worried that AWBHT is already too big, it's just so Many Words, what if it's too many words--

[raging-violets]

I bought FC 24 (FIFA) to play on my computer so I wouldn't hog the shared TV - which also coincides with the first time ever in my life that I chose to buy and play a FIFA game all on my own - and it's not working. It just gets stuck at the loading screen or crashes. Everything tip online I've seen has not solved the problem.

Or, if it goes so far to show some sort of graphic, there's no sound. And it crashes.

Or I can get to selecting my controller settings...and it crashes!

I bought this "on sale" for about $50 - originally it's $70...and allit does is freezes/crashes.

This was such a waste of money 🤬🤬🤬

[grey-wardens]

wip wsaturday - wyll/default durge bad ending fic, warning for some typical durge talk of violence

-

And so, when Mizora had come to their camp, offering his father’s life, Wyll had taken it. How could he ever have done anything else? 

After, he had lain in his tent, a tempest of emotions in him. To know that his father was saved, that he finally knew the truth, that they had finally reconciled–and yet, to be bound to Mizora for the rest of his life. To know that after death, the Hells awaited him.

And then the flap of his tent had parted and the love of his young life had crawled into the tent to lay beside him, to hold him. As his lover’s arms had drawn him into their embrace, Wyll had run his hands over those warm scales, wanting to wrap himself tight in that heat and never leave.

“My love, we’ll wrench her skeleton from her body and paint the earth with her infernal blood, I swear it,” his love had said in his low voice, sharp as knives, deep as tombs. But then he’d paused. “But that’s not what you need to hear, is it?” 

Wyll had looked into his love’s eyes, those deep pools of crimson that he could lose himself in. Had lost himself in, so often. 

“In truth, your words are a balm to knowing that I’ll be bound to her for the rest of my life. But your simple presence at my side is enough.” 

“Then I shall stay,” his nameless love had said, pulling him closer. “I shan’t swear on my festering blood that yearns for slaughter, nor my twisted brain with its mangled visions. But my heart will always remain true, true to you.” 

And there, briefly safe in his love’s arms, Wyll Ravengard had felt free for a single solitary moment, despite the devil that had him in her clutches, despite the approaching Absolute, despite his love’s vile Father. He had felt free enough to let himself cry after so long, eye stinging and mouth tasting of salt, as his nameless love held him tightly.

[catboygirljoker]

i literally cant make a post about this without sounding unbearably bitchy but i am frustrated by how often self-described writers (especially ones i see here on tumblr) describe the process of writing as completely passive--"you dont write the story, the story writes YOU!" "im not in charge here, the characters are in the drivers seat XD"

when as another self-described writer (on tumblr) the most interesting and satisfying part of writing to me is making deliberate choices about how a scene proceeds, what a character is like, how to describe something, every part of the piece. none of it is passive for me. even though i follow people who reblog posts about writing and even though i care a lot about writing and do it often, i rarely see posts i want to reblog about writing because i struggle to relate to any of them.

the part where i get unbearably bitchy about it is the fact that (trying with all my might to restrain the snarling biting evil dog in my brain that wants to kill) the writing produced by people who talk this way is. not to my taste. and frequently. in my opinion. not very good. and i dont think that that is a coincidence. nor do i think it's a coincidence that writers on tumblr seem to. have trouble. finishing projects. but. yknow. different strokes. and all that. just because their approach is different doesnt mean its wrong. (the dog in my brain is gnawing its own leg off)

[shararan]

good news: started shortfic 300 words

good news 2: its binggehua

??? news: its pushing the boundaries of a shortfic as im at 1500 words and cant stop for a break

worse news: my back is dying

good news 3: still kicking and screaming as the words flow like waterfall

less good but also ???? news: its in swedish

not good but kinda makes me laugh news: ill be the one to take yet another fandoms swedish fic virginity on ao3