#the writing is beautiful but I have no idea what I'm doing

[ccazimi]

Hiyahh saw that u said ur reqs are open my idea is pretty simple tbh but maybe could ya write sum abt sukuna lets reader bleach his hair to re-dye it but ends up failing horribly so he has to shave off his hair n he's js acting like a soggy cat 🫡

sorry if this didn't hit the mark! new to this haha

"I'm going to fucking kill you, woman."

You pouted from where you stood behind Sukuna as he scowled at his reflection in the mirror.

"Hey, it's not that bad..." You started nervously, trying to alleviate the situation you had created.

"Not that bad?!" Sukuna angrily interjected before you could even finish your sentence. "My head looks like an overused toothbrush."

And with uneven splotches of yellow, orange and white with short stiff strands that sat like straw after being freshly dried, the comparison was actually quite accurate. Accurate enough that you had to look away with a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Are you laughing? Is you fucking up my hair funny to you?" He grit his teeth, irritation only growing at your tittering.

"No!" You squeaked, before stepping up to where he stood by the sink counter. "Is it really that fucked up?"

He watched you from the corners of his eyes as you lifted your hands to gently grasp a small tuft of hair sticking out. It was dry and brittle as though someone had air fried it for a bit too long. You tested its flexibility by bending it in your fingers and it gave way with a soft crunch leaving you staring at the dead hair between your fingers, and Sukuna stiffening even more. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" You could practically see the steam exiting Sukuna's ears. "Give me that." He snatched the fossil of his once beautiful salmon colored hair that you'd collected and inspected it for himself. "How'd you even mess it up that bad? Were you using industrial bleach or something?"

"I don't know, I just used the old bottle of bleach I found under the sink." You mumbled. "The 'forty' brand."

"Forty?"

"It had the number forty on it."

He spun around at looked down at you incredulously, making you furrow your brows. "What, is that a bad brand or something?"

He brought his palm to his face, closing his eyes as another growl escaped his throat. "That wasn't the name of the brand, you idiot. 'Forty' is the level of the bleach"

You kept your mouth shut as he seemed to only become more livid.

"They come in volumes from weakest to strongest: ten, twenty, thirty, and forty."

He opened his eyes to glare down at you, leaving you to marinate in your guilt and feeling dumb as hell. "I'm sorry, Sukuna. Listen, I'll pay for you to get it fixed at the salon-"

He dismissed your attempts at reparation with a wave of his hand, holding up the tuft of broken hair up to your face. "You see this? There's nothing any professional can do when your hair is fucked this bad. I'm going to have to buzz it."

He watched you drop your gaze trying to hide the growing pout on your lips. Honestly, you'd really liked his hair too.

With an exasperated sigh he decided to take pity on you, trying to make you feel better in his own way. "Its fine, I'll just shave it so that it grows back fresh. Also I am never letting you near my hair again."

"Do you need any help buzzing it?"

He shot you a death glare that had you scrambling to exit the bathroom as quickly as possible.

You were laying on the couch, reading a book with Yuuji curled up on your lap when you heard the door to the bathroom open. The last few minutes were marked by the buzzing of an electric razor and you snapped your head up as Sukuna finally revealed himself to you.

He stared at you silently with his arms crossed, waiting for your commentary. "Well?"

Your first thought was that he reminded you of a lion that had its majestic mane shaven off - more so due to his demeanor rather than his appearance.

As for his appearance...

"You know I actually like the look." You said with a genuine smile. His chiseled features and sharp inky tattoos gave his face enough structure that he could actually pull off the buzzed look.

He deadpanned you, clearly skeptical of your approval.

"Look Yuuji, doesn't he look handsome?" You scratched the golden retriever's ears, prompting him to look up. Although Sukuna supposedly didn't like the puppy, Yuuji absolutely adored Sukuna from the moment he'd met him and would routinely piss himself in excitement whenever Sukuna would visit (much to Sukuna's disgust).

But Yuuji caught sight of Sukuna and growled, before laying his head back down.

You might have never seen Sukuna look so genuinely offended in his life.

"Don't mind him, he probably just needs to get a little used to your...new look." You tried to reassure Sukuna, but could barely contain your laughter at what a dirty scowl he was giving the dog.

"Let's go out for dinner tonight."

"No."

You sighed, dramatically throwing yourself on Sukuna's lap where he sat on the couch snacking on chicken katsu. "Come on, how long are you gonna keep sulking over this?"

He grabbed a pillow to throw it over your face and kept eating. "I am not sulking." He grumbled.

You fought against the pillow, finally managing to get it off and grin cheekily up at him. "You so are. Seriously, it doesn't look bad."

For the past few days Sukuna had refused to go outside, slinking around the apartment like a wet cat. His pride, his joy, his beautiful hair that he normally only trusted with high end salons had fallen at your hands, and he refused to let it go.

"Look even Yuuji's warmed up to you again."

Upon hearing his name, Yuuji got up from where he was slobbering on a chew toy and nosed Sukuna's ankle, tail wagging back and forth like a propeller. Your dog wasn't the smartest and it took him a little to be convinced that Sukuna was still his grumpy self and not some hairless replacement.

"Tsk. I don't care about your rat dog - in fact i'd rather have it not be all over me."

You chose to not mention it, knowing damn well Sukuna had perked up if even a bit when Yuuji went back to fawning over him. Instead you sat up, cozying yourself on Sukuna's lap in that way that you knew would always grab his attention.

"I'm seriously sorry I messed up your hair, okay? And you know I find you sexy with or without your pretty hair. So lets go out so I can show off to everyone how attractive my boyfriend is." You teased him on purpose, knowing that his ego would take some coddling while his hair grew back.

He rolled his eyes but you knew you were getting somewhere when he set his food down to snake his hands around your waist. "Fine. But only if we get sashimi."

"Yes!" You chirped. "Sounds good to me." You raised a hand to pet his head but he caught your wrist before you could feel his buzzed head under your fingertips.

"You're still not allowed to touch my hair, though."

[lookingfts]

The trolls are back - here's how to deal with them

The anon harassers are back in the fandom after a hiatus, and I know this is an especially sensitive time for a lot of people. So I just want to share a few things (that can apply to any fandom) about my experience and how I've dealt with them in the past.

First, and this is the single most important thing, the harassment is NOT about you or your story. It is 1000% entirely about them. There was a time when the stories that got attacked were about specific themes they didn't enjoy. Then it was just every story that was remotely popular. Now, who even knows, it's just everything. Do you know what that tells me? It's not about the writer, or the story. (They've attacked some of THE most talented writers in the fandom and some of THE best stories.) It's about their jealousy over someone else creating something that is loved by others. It's their jealousy over not knowing what their purpose is in life and not knowing what they have to give, so rather than figuring that out, they'll just attack people who have found their gift. So, fuck them for that.

Second! Please believe me that I understand if this impacts your mental health. It's straight up cyberbullying, and that sucks, especially when you're making yourself vulnerable by putting your heart into something and sharing it with the world. So I will not judge you if you need to take a step back. But I would argue that the better way to give them the finger is to ignore them and keep doing what you enjoy. They've already chased several authors out of the fandom, and it clearly hasn't satisfied them at all - they won't be happy until every last person stops writing, for some fucking reason.

Third, here's how I got rid of (the vast majority of) the harassment, as I was getting it pretty bad at one point. First, change your comments on AO3 to "Only registered users can comment." You might literally have to go back and do it for all your stories. It's a pain in the ass, and it cuts off users without an account from commenting, and I know that sucks. But I promise it will solve 90% of the problem.

For shitty comments from a registered account, just go ahead and block those people.

If they send you asks on Tumblr (I get those too), just keep blocking. Go to your inbox, click the three dots in the top right corner of the message, and hit Block sender. You can even do this with Anonymous asks, and it will block Anonymous messages from THAT sender without blocking Anonymous asks altogether (a feature I dearly wish AO3 would adopt).

You can also report comments on AO3 and Tumblr - I'm not much of an expert in this, but it's an option.

There were other steps I had to take, but I don't want to give the harassers any ideas (I know they read my posts). So if you have issues beyond this, feel free to reach out to me directly and I can share more, or help you figure out how to deal with it.

I hope this helps. Fic writing is a fun, beautiful creative expression with a wonderful community and I am sick of watching people be pushed out of it. It is not a reflection on your talent, and if anything, shows me that the harasser read and liked your fic and THAT is what pisses them off. If it was truly bad, they wouldn't care. I love all of you writers, and I believe in you, and I am here for you. Together, there are so many more of us than there are of them.

[hey-august]

Saw the cuteness aggression post you reblogged and would feel blessed if you ever wrote whump fic with Buggy because I would ALSO love to try and comfort a man who just staggered into the room bloody, beaten and bruised, clearly just thumbling over the threshold of “show no weakness” to “in so much pain he doesn’t even care anymore that he’s hiccuping and sobbing like a child while clinging to you” hurt comfort with heavy emphasis on the hurt? Yes pls

Anon, I'm so so sorry for how long it took me to get to this. I love me some angst and whump, and while I had ideas, the motivation to write was not working with me.

I don't want to keep holding onto this and leave you hanging for even longer, so I wrote out my idea in bullet point format.

I hope this still hits the spot!

WC: ~550 Warnings: buggy x gn!reader, mentions of blood and burn wounds

You and Buggy have an unspoken thing. A mutual pining. There's respect and some affection. A closeness, but still distance and a barrier that neither of you acknowledge.

You're the ship's doctor and the crew was in a rough fight. Lots of injuries, ranging from minor scuffs, to teeth knocked out, stitches, broken noses and broken bones, blood and tears - it's a lot in a short period of time.

You're doing what you can, and those who are less injured are helping where they can.

Once you get through those involved, the captain is the last one left needing your attention.

Maybe he's been sitting nearby the whole time, waving away anyone coming to triage or check on him, snapping that he's fine. Get the hell away from him.

But when the room empties, Buggy crumbles. It starts small, bit by bit as you assess him.

His busted lip is split and bleeding, the color mixing with his smeared lipstick. His right eye is swelling. His beautiful hair is singed. The affected tips are stuck in terrified curls from trying to run from the heat. The smell is clinging everywhere.

But the worst are the burns. You're not sure what happened - some of the other crewmembers had burns and scorch marks, but not like this.

Your captain has some rough wounds on his arms and torso, where the heat ate away at the fabric before feeding on his skin and flesh.

He's wet and sticky. Swaths of skin are weeping. Buggy's feeling exposed, tender, and hurt. Pain is radiating out while regret and fear are falling inwards.

All it takes is one soft comment from you. "You must be in so much pain." You were talking to yourself, but it's the acknowledgement that Buggy must have needed.

The eyes that had been avoiding yours, stopped holding back tears. His clenched jaw and tight lips quiver. He nods.

You can't fathom how much it hurts to move, but Buggy has his arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. His hands are clutching your clothes, pulling them taut. It's like he's a cracked vessel, losing liquid and life, but maybe you can keep him together. Maybe you could fix him. And if not, he wouldn't be alone as he breaks.

Hurting more is often part of getting better. You know this, and you let it happen.

You let Buggy cry against you. You let his tears, snot, spittle, and worries seep into your clothes. You hold the back of his head and put a hand on his back, and rub. You let your own stinging tears fall.

Noises get caught in his throat and Buggy fixes his hold, as if he's trying to wrap himself around you even more. As if he's trying to squeeze every drop of comfort and care from you.

His hands are detached, fingers stretched and probably barely connected, all so he can hold more of you. Even his feet are shuffling, seeking contact against yours. His knees knocking against your legs.

Buggy continues until he's hiccupping and coughing. Until he has a headache and his eyes are bleary.

You should have stopped him sooner. Some of the oozing wounds started to crust and are clinging to the fabric of your clothes.

Buggy whines and grunts as he literally peels himself away.

You still need to clean and dress the wounds, so another round of pain. One could argue that you should have gone ahead and done that right away, but no.

Despite the visible injuries, there's invisible damage that needed to be soothed.

You can almost see Buggy picking up his broken pieces and putting them back together. Recreating a wall, a mask, a barrier.

You know what's on the other side, though. And you will be there whenever he needs you.

[whoopies-world]

pairing: namjoon x afab! pregnant! reader

warnings: pregnancy mentions (nothing heavy, just the idea of being pregnant)

a/n: hello! so this is just me testing my waters on writing again after losing my mind to an indefinite hiatus + studying. hope y'all enjoy!

"Well, aegi has been very active recently. As much as I hate to admit it babe, it's probably 'cause you've been home over the weekend." You say as you trail behind.

"Pregnancy is no joke in Korea, hon. I'll give it that." You say as you trail behind Namjoon who's been carrying yet another box to the nursery. "Well, that's what a hardworking country gets. All the economy, none of the kids," he trails off as he enters the nursery, "Watch yourself, baby. You, your clumsy self, and our soccer star."

What you say is true. As you've been reading relentlessly all the prenatal books the world has to offer. It's been saying that you should listen to classical music or, at least, play music so it stimulates the baby and you have been doing that but it's just not working.

But life has been colorful on the recent days. All this "baby prep", as Namjoon would call it, has you in a whirlwind. Deliveries and packages have built up on your home's doorstep the minute you've hit your second trimester.

Namjoon carefully sets down the box, brushing a stray hair out of his eyes as he turns to you, a soft smile lighting up his face. "Guess our little one knows when Appa's around," he says, his voice a mix of pride and amazement.

You walk over to the box he’s just placed, giving it a curious shake, and laugh as he raises an eyebrow at you. "What? I'm just trying to guess which of your 500 delivery orders this is," you tease.

He chuckles, reaching out to pull you close, his hand resting gently on your bump. "Hey, I can't help it if our baby deserves the best. Plus, I have to compensate for all those long work hours," he says, a bit of guilt lacing his words. You can tell he's still adjusting to balancing his passion for his career with this new life you're building together.

You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you, grounding you in this perfect moment. "Well, all that matters is that you're here now," you whisper, feeling your heart swell as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

As if on cue, the baby kicks—a strong, unmistakable nudge that has both of you jolting. You gasp, and Namjoon's eyes light up, pure joy spreading across his face as he drops to one knee, hands instantly resting on your belly. "Was that…? Oh, aegi, you’re going to be a real little champ," he murmurs softly to the bump.

The way he talks to your baby, that quiet adoration in his voice, makes you melt. He’s already so in love, and you realize this journey is going to be so much sweeter because of moments like this. Your hand rests on his, fingers lacing as you both stay there in the stillness, absorbing every flutter and heartbeat.

In that moment, you know that, yes, life is a whirlwind. But with him, it’s the most beautiful one you could ever imagine.

[sequinsmile-x]

All's Well That Ends Well to End Up With You

Emily and Aaron get married, and they make other promises to each other along the way.

-x-

Hi besties!

I'm back at work tomorrow following my surgery, and the most intense Sunday Scaries ever have set in...so I wanted to write some fluff. This is based on an idea from the lovely @louisaland who suggested something to do with our favs wedding day.

This is part of the kissing prompt series I am doing of unrelated mini-fics and oneshots, and this is the 'kisses as a promise' prompt.

As always, a full list of the prompts I'm working my way through are on the main fic's master list.

As always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: so fluffy you should floss after reading

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily hums a tune she can’t remember the name of, letting the vibrations of it pass from her chest to her two-month-old daughter’s, hoping that it lulls her back to sleep. It was 3 am, the house quiet apart from her humming and the occasional grunt from Mia, the little girl resistant to sleep even though she had a clean diaper and a full belly. Emily tilts her head to look down, sighing when her eyes meet Mia’s, the dark eyes she’d got from her staring back at her, wide and open as she grunts, squirming in what Emily thinks is an attempt to get even closer.

“Mia, baby,” she says, hearing the slight whine in her own voice as she kisses her daughter’s head, breathing in the sweet smell she’d been addicted to since she’d first held her, “You need to sleep. We both do,” she runs her hand up down her back, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married today,” she can’t help the smile at the thought of it, resting her cheek on the top of Mia’s head, “We need our beauty sleep.” 

Aaron proposed just two weeks before they found out she was pregnant. They’d been trying for a little while, both achingly aware they were working against a ticking clock and that this was something they wanted. When she was staring at two lines on a pregnancy test, her engagement ring sparkling just out of the corner of her eye, it all felt too good to be true. Like she was in a dream she’d wake up from only to find herself alone and in her apartment in Paris, everything that had happened to her since a fantasy she’d let herself get lost in. Aaron would always assure her it was real. He’d hold her and let her hear his heartbeat, and he’d breathe a little deeper so she’d feel the rise and fall of his chest as he told her all about their present and their future- something so intimate and real she knew her imagination could never come up with it. 

She had everything she’d ever wanted. A house that actually felt like home. A little boy she loved as her own. A little girl she’d felt grow beneath her skin. A partner who loved and respected her in equal measure. 

And today, she was going to marry him. 

As soon as they found out she was pregnant they decided to hold off the wedding until she had the baby. She didn’t want to be a pregnant bride and Aaron was happy to do whatever she wanted to do. They agreed the wedding would be small, and no matter how much Elizabeth made her opinion on it clear Emily was pleased that she’d managed to stop her from interfering.

When she was a little girl, she never imagined that she’d pick a wedding dress based on ease of access so she could nurse her 8-week-old baby. She never imagined she’d get married in her friend’s backyard. She never imagined she’d find a man like Aaron, and that she’d have the kind of love she felt every day. 

It was nothing like what she’d pictured, but it was infinitely more. 

“Neither of you need beauty sleep.” 

She looks up at the doorway of the nursery, and she smiles when her eyes meet her fiancés. He looks deliciously rumpled, his pjyamas askew and his hair sticking up in every direction. Exhaustion that came with having a newborn written all over his face in a way she’s sure is written all over hers. She hums and looks back down at Mia, unsurprised to find that she’s still awake.

“Daddy is lying, Mia,” she says, stage whispering as she raises an eyebrow when she looks back over at him, “But we love him for it.”

He shrugs and walks over, joining them on the loveseat, his arm hooked around her shoulder as he replies, “Not a lie,” he kisses her forehead and then places his hand over hers on Mia’s back, “You’re both beautiful. If you got any more beautiful it would be unfair on everyone else.” 

She chuckles and rests her head against him, her cheek pressed against his jaw, “You promise?” 

He cups her cheek and encourages him to look at her, stamping his lips against hers, soft and sure and simple. “I promise.” 

It was something that had started in the early days. Back when they were both too nervous to admit how much they loved each other. She didn’t even remember the first time she’d done it, the first time she’d looked up at him, her smile shy as she asked him if he promised. He kissed her in response, his forehead against hers as he followed it up with a confirmation. It became their thing before they could say that they loved each other. Two words instead of three that were never replaced when they did become brave enough, another way to express how they felt for each other that was just theirs, an oath they could make in front of other people without them knowing. 

She smiles and kisses him before she pulls back, casting a glance down at the still awake Mia. Emily groans, the sound turning into a shaky breath as she feels tears press at the back of her eyes, exhaustion starting to get the better of her. “Why does she hate sleep so much? I’m so tired.” 

“Let me take her for a bit,” he says, offering his hands out to take her as Emily nods, letting go of Mia as he shifts her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as he settles her against her chest. Emily wraps both of her arms around one of his and rests her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting closer for a moment as she breathes him in. 

“You should sing,” she says, not even attempting to suppress a yawn as she settles into his side, “It always helped when she was living inside of me and never stopped kicking.” 

“I can sing,” he replies, yawning, rubbing a circle on Mia’s back, “If I can think of any songs.” 

She chuckles and kisses his shoulder, “We seriously need some sleep otherwise we’re going to say the wrong names during our vows tomorrow.” 

He kisses the top of her head, “You’ve just given me an idea,” he says, clearing his throat before he starts to sing, “Goin' to the chapel, and we're gonna get married, gee, I really love you-”

“Oh god,” she grumbles, hiding her smile against his tricep, “Of all the songs-”

“And we're gonna get married, goin' to the chapel of love-”

“We aren’t even getting married in a chapel, we’re getting married in Dave’s backyard.” 

“Are you going to keep on interrupting me?” He asks, his eyebrows raised as he looks down at her, “Close your eyes and relax.” 

She sighs, putting fake irritation into it as she makes a point of closing her eyes, “Go ahead.” 

He kisses her forehead and returns his attention to Mia, “Spring is here, the sky is blue, whoa birds all sing as if they knew, today's the day we'll say ‘I do’, and we'll never be lonely anymore.”

___

“Bells will ring, the sun will shine, whoa, I'll be his and he'll be mine, we'll love until the end of time-” she cuts herself off with a groan and stops her pacing, taking an opportunity to look down at Mia, smiling when she sees the little girl was, of course, awake, “Daddy is lucky Mommy loves him so much sweet girl, because he’s got that damn song stuck in my head. I walked down the aisle humming it to myself.” 

It had been a beautiful day. Small, simple, perfect and theirs. The party was still going on outside, but she’d heard Mia’s cry through the monitor she’d been keeping an eye on since Aaron, her husband, put her down for a nap just a couple of hours ago. Dave had set up one of the rooms downstairs for Mia to nap in and they’d brought the pack and play. Despite Elizabeth’s insistence that it wouldn’t work, that they’d need to get a sitter all day for their 2-month-old and not have their daughter at their wedding, there hadn’t been any problems. Except for when Mia started crying in Penelope’s arms during the vows. She only settled down when Emily passed over her bouquet and took her little girl from her bridesmaid, holding her against her chest as she promised forever to the man who she was building her family with. 

“There’s my wife and the world’s most adorable bouquet.” 

She looks at Aaron and smiles, enjoying the parallel from the early hours of that morning. It was only a handful of hours ago, but so much had changed. He was her husband now. She was a Hotchner, at least in her heart - there was a mountain of paperwork to get through before she made it official. Elizabeth had been horrified when she found out she was changing her surname, said she was throwing away all the opportunities her name gave her, but Emily had simply rolled her eyes. 

Being a Hotchner had given her everything and she’d only been one for two hours. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she quips and he shrugs and walks into the room, letting the door close behind him before he wraps his arm around her. 

“I’d happily walk in on my girls together for the rest of my life.” 

She smiles and kisses him, “You’re corny as fuck today.” 

“No cursing in front of the baby,” he says, smiling when she rolls her eyes at him, “And I’m allowed to be corny today,” he stamps a kiss against her lips, “We got married.” 

She nods, “I guess I can give you today,” she says, sighing in relief when she looks down and sees Mia is asleep, “I’m going to put her down.”

He smiles and kisses Mia’s forehead, “Love you so much, Mia.”

Emily does the same, whispering her love for her daughter against her skin before she lays her down in the pack and play, holding her breath as she lets go and waits for a moment, smiling when she stays asleep. Aaron steps up behind her, crowding her between him and the portable bassinet their daughter is asleep in. He kisses her shoulder, then her neck and she hums contentedly.

“We should go back outside,” she says quietly, turning in his embrace, her smile getting wider when he wraps his arms around her, his hands warm and firm against her back, “It’s us they are celebrating out there.” 

“And our love for each other,” he replies, stamping his lips against hers, “Don’t forget that part,” he winks at her when she playfully narrows her eyes at him, “You did just say I can be as corny as I want today.” 

She shakes her head lovingly at him and wraps her arms around his neck, scratching her blunt nails against the base of his head, “Don’t tell anyone this,” she says, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “But I like it when you’re corny.” 

He already knew, because of course he did. She knew he didn’t miss how she’d smile when he’d say something she would have once considered trite and the thing of cheap airport romance novels. How she’d sink into his embrace as he told her how much he loved her and their life together. He already knew but he smiles anyway, his lips catching the corner of her mouth before he pulls back enough to speak. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” 

She smiles, any attempt to contain it ruined when her dimples give it away, carved out deep in her cheeks by love and happiness, “You promise?” 

He kisses her, his hands on her back holding her in place, and she holds him close too, wanting nothing more than to sink into him, her husband, for the rest of her life. When they finally pull back, his forehead against hers again, she sees his smile, the same one he’d given her when they’d been confirmed as husband and wife, before he whispers his reply. 

“I promise.” 

[abortpawpatrol]

First playthrough of Disco Elysium:

*fails an 80+% success rate skill roll*

...ok surely just bad luck and won't happen again-

*fails an 80+% success rate skill roll*

haha very funny. ok. this is fine. i found the morale fixing stuff not long ago i'll just hold onto it until if things get dire

*fails an 80+% success rate skill roll*

i have so many quests that i can't even progress, people are mean to me and i can't even succeed at ONE THING??? ...no this is fine. this is fine. i still have the pills or whatever they are.

*fails an 80+% success rate skill roll*

...wait where are my pills I know I picked some up and I DEFINITELY didn't use them-

*fails an 80+% success rate skill roll*

*mental breakdown, game over*

This shit hurts more than therapy ever did actually

[saltydoesstuff]

Every Universe

"I love you." She uttered, barely above a whisper. "I love you in every universe." "Do we end up together in every universe?" He asked. "No," She replied, and the painful memories of those life times flashed behind her beautiful eyes as she reflected to the 'back then's. Yet, she smiled, "But I love you anyway, how could I not? My soul yearns for you, even before it had come to know you. It remembers, I remember." "Does it hurt?" She was silent for a moment, "A lifetime without you hurts more then a lifetime when we are not together." "I love you." He blurts out unthinkingly, desperate. He reaches out for her hand, taking it and holds it in both hands in a grounding grip. She looked down at their hands and smiled, relishing in the bitter sweetness. "I know." She confesses quietly. She held his hand tightly, trying to ignore the buzzing within her body- threatening to tear her apart atom by atom. "But you aren't mine. Not this time."

[bookshelf-in-progress]

It's a good sign I'm recovering from my creative slump that I was able to brainstorm a story that makes me laugh.

[daddyplasmius]

hand on my stupid heart flashbacks

this is a No One Knows AU & Full Hazmat AU where Danny ended up in the Ghost Zone & didn't go back into the human world initially because he thought he was dead. by the time he realized he is, in fact, at least half alive, he'd already been missing for at least 2 weeks. will probs never finish homsh sorry. i wrote this a couple years ago in a haze & just haven't been able to finish it because i can't replicate the style, which i find is what i love about this fic the most. it wouldn't be the same without it. posting the flashback introsーwhich are meant to be read between chapters/the actual plot, starting after chapter 1ーcuz fuck it. excuse typos & shit, i never properly edited it, as i forgot it existed immediately after i wrote it original description of homsh: Danny Fenton has officially been missing for over a year. Maddie & Jack Fenton refuse to give up on their son. Sick and tired of the police running them in circles, and the case getting colder by the day, the Fentons turn to their last resortーPhantom. 800~ words (full unfinished fic is 20k~)

-

When Danny woke up surrounded by thick, green fog, and couldn’t breathe without swallowing heavy air that was more like water than anything, he was sure he was dead. The portal glowed behind him, illuminating the pitch darkness around him in soft, yellow, warm light.

He almost went back.

Almost.

He was dead. His parents were ghost hunters. They had drilled into his head from the moment he was born that he could never, ever panic in death. That he would accept it. That he would not be scared. So he would be prepared to be brave in the face of death and would not become a ghost.

He panicked. He did not accept it. He was terrified. And so he woke up in the Ghost Zone.

-

Danny went back through the portal when he saw some ectopuses acting… strange. Like they had an idea in their heads. Like they had a plan.

Which was weird, with animal ghosts. He had only been in the Ghost Zoneーmom and dad called it that, he rememberedーfor a couple weeks. Or, he had already been there for two weeks. Or maybe time worked differently and he was there five minutes, or four years orー

The ectopuses went through the portal and, despite everything, Danny went after them.

While he was busy reeling at being home, the ectopuses immediately attacked dad. Danny was horrified. Jack was overwhelmed. Danny stepped in, in a moment fueled by sheer adrenaline and stupidity, snatching a Fenton Thermos™ off a shelf and releasing his shaky invisibility. The ectopuses didn’t stand a chance. And when they were safely in the Thermos, he slowly turned around to dad, ready for the confrontation. Ready for the “what happened to you?” and the “where have you been?” and the “we’ve missed you”.

Dad scrambled to shoot at him.

Danny fled.

His parents didn’t recognize him.

-

The Lunch Lady attacked when Danny was mourning Halloween.

He’d waited all year. He made a costume that summer. He wouldn’t get to go trick or treating with Sam and Tucker this year. Or any year. For the rest of his lifeーor existence. Whatever.

The Lunch Lady appeared in the school and demanded in straight fury, “Who changed the menu?”

Everyone pointed at Sam.

Danny hadn’t known just how powerful ghosts could be. His parents never told him the specifics. Just that they were dangerous.

This ghost grew and her aura hit him like a hurricane, almost physically pushing him back. It was so strong that the students in the Casper High cafeteria seemed to feel it too.

The Lunch Lady was a much harder opponent than the ectopuses. She levitated meat. She used it as a weapon, and seemed to bring it back to life. She created weird meat creatures that grew sharp teeth and claws out of bones. They were mindless, attacking everything that got too close to the ghost. Danny would have run away without hesitation, if Sam hadn’t been in the crossfire.

Danny fought the Lunch Lady. It was a long struggle, but he caught her in the thermos after over an hour. When he turned to Sam and Tuckerーboth of whom he had to save due to Tucker trying to jump into the fightーall three of them bloody and bruised, he cringed. But a part of him hoped. Desperately.

Surely they would know him on sight.

“Wh-what are you?” Sam gasped at him finally.

Danny flinched as if she had struck him. “J-just… your friendly neighbourhood phantom.”

-

Danny didn’t know what possessed him. Oh. Pun not intended.

He just barely caught the Fentons leaving in the GAV, dragging suitcases behind them. He couldn’t help himself. What on Earth were they doing?

They were going to Vlad Master’s mansion for their college reunion.

It was a whole thing. But something was off. Besides all the adults reminiscing about the 80’s.

Danny sensed ghosts immediately but he couldn’t see anything. Unfortunately for him, Vlad could also sense him. It was two days of Danny staying invisible, and Vladーthe halfa? Is that what Danny is?ーtrying to kill Jack. Somehow, Danny managed to fight off Vlad, not turn back, and without the Fentons getting hurt. His secret intact.

VladーPlasmius, also learned about Phantom. And Vlad hated him. The manーghostーwhatever, seemed to only care about one thingーpossession. Of money. Of things. Of people. He was more ghost than Danny had ever seen. Vlad’s obsession was overwhelming.

Danny couldn’t believe someone so much like himself could be so disturbing.

[iiboronii]

Me upon realizing that I can just have an AU instead of writing an entire fanfiction about an idea I had in my head once:

[jewel-shard]

That feeling when you wake up with a notification that your story received a kudos and it fills you with the will to live another day.

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Lucifer is actually just me with extra steps (something to live for) I think

Me? Projecting? I would never!

*rocking back and forth* it was supposed to be silly and goofy it was supposed to be silly and goofy how do I always end up here

Also the fact that this is for tomorrow's prompt and I'm still not finished because my dumb ass decided to write random prompts out of order for some reason???

At least I have day 3 finished already! That one's not silly and goofy either.. well it is until it isn't (that one's about Stolas btw so yay first Helluva fic)

This is fine

[the-busy-ghost]

I don’t have a very strong accent so I’ve been used to southern English folk saying, often in surprise, that I don’t sound Scottish (haha) or that I sound posh.

 HOWEVER I’ve also heard them claim that they still don’t understand me and while I could interpret that as people with a lazy ear being rude, or perhaps they have a few understandable auditory processing issues (look comprehending speech is DIFFICULT, I struggle with it myself though not usually because of the speaker’s accent, just the speed at which you’re expected to consume ideas). However I’ve come to another conclusion lately- it might also be the grammar.

Apparently saying ‘I’ll not be a minute’ to some people is just as unintelligible as the deepest Doric and I really think we need to have a better appreciation for the quiet Scotticisms as much as the loud ones.

[softersinned-arc]

hello darlings it is a slightly busy week and i'm spending some time on my much-neglected multi & setting up the new blog so i can switch over there soonish.* i love you dearly i hope you're well kisses all around

just a little thing: i'm not likely to interact with y.ellowjackets content bc some of the subject matter makes me kind of queasy. i'm sure it's a great show and i'm so excited that you're excited about it !! no need to tag extra, it's just not something i want to write on. additionally, i'm learning that i'm not fully comfortable interacting with portrayals of gods and other deities, including from like, marvel - i don't think there's anything wrong with it at all!! it's just a matter of my own comfort while i settle further into my own pagan practices and communication with the deities i work with. i'm more comfortable with figures like angels or demons just bc of my experiences growing up catholic.

so if it seems like i'm ignoring certain muses, i promise it's neither anything personal nor a comment on how well they're written! i'm so excited to support you and see your writing and i love to see the incredible creativity on this website; it's simply a matter of my own personal comfort.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

writing dreamstuck dialogue is so fun. ranboo leaves the group chat for two minutes to translate an alternian message and comes back to aimsey and tubbo singing mickey mouse clubhouse and tommy makes fun of him for not watching it as a kid. i do not know how this happened. the dialogue just runs away from u its like a dog without a leash shits runnin away and before u can grab the leash it's GONE

[alexfeelyx]

Wait wait wait. Yes I do agree with the obstacle thing but aren't y'all seeing camera angles? I thought writing was about trying to put the movie in my head into words because as you said yourself, we don't get to make movies.

I mean yeah sometimes it's about enjoying language itself and enjoying that I can show things that are very hard to communicate via film. So like I am aware that writing is a very different art form and has its own perks.

I'm just... like, what are we supposed to do? You're right, we don't get to make movies, but the alternative is that people who see their story ideas as movies should just. Give up and not think about them I guess. Your imagination wants to create things in an art form that you don't have access to so just stop having creative thoughts. Definitely don't try to make a different kind of art cuz you're doing it wrong.

i think people who complain about paragraphs being too long should just read/write screenplays instead. some of us actually enjoy reading