#they're both fun to write

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Parasite Problem

1 | 2 | 3

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

After Susie is severely injured in a major battle, Kris elects to take on a very difficult and dangerous task to help her out with a smaller problem.

PHEW this comic has felt like it's been taking me forever to do, and I've still got more left to finish, but hopefully all the rest goes smoothly!

[sysig]

Divided minds of the same thought (Patreon)

[jmr-observingfromafar]

help i think my roommate's a lesbian

“Hello, Enid.”

“Is... Is this girl in red?”

Wednesday blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“Well… what do you think of the song?”

“The ‘girl in red’ singing sounds quite distraught, and is clearly struggling with a lot of internal emotional conflict. The turmoil is… enjoyable.”

I think I had a dream that started like this.

or,

Wednesday needs Enid to know she likes girls, and by extension, Enid. What better way to accomplish this than by doing everything except telling her?

IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!!

(ao3 users only sorry to any without an acct)

Featuring: chaotic sapphics struggling to communicate, Enid being oblivious as a driving force for the plot, the author taking way too much enjoyment out of coming up with morbid Wednesday-related metaphors for said girls’ emotions, flannel and other lesbian staples, and fluff so tooth-rotting i had to step away from my computer several times throughout the writing process

a liiiiitle late for pride month but my wenclair oneshot has arrived and i highly recommend checking it out ! big thanks to my betas @anxietygremlin7 and @not-a-taken-username and thanks to everyone who showed interest in this fic :)

[bumblingbabooshka]

I have an idea for making Seska and the Kazon more interesting (less Klingon-lite) and it's by making it kinda Seska v Chakotay (based on the episode where Chakotay helps that Kazon kid) Basically, the Kazon are this severely fractured group of historically disenfranchised and preyed upon people (they were literally enslaved by the Trabe who took their homeworld, kept them living in squalor while the Trabe lived in luxury, and are still trying to kill them. This is canon and it's insane that the Kazon are still the bad guys overall. Like, they're painted as this incorrigibly innately violent mass of idiots it's SO bad.) Basically my idea is that Seska, as a Cardassian and a spy, is someone who's used to infiltrating and subjugating groups. So I was picturing Voyager being attacked by the Kazon and accused of helping the Trabe again. Voyager says they absolutely would never help the Trabe or anyone else kill people and learn that swaths of Kazon have been being killed and captured and that all the evidence leads to Voyager. The Kazon Voyager interacts with from here on are acting notably different. Far more paranoid, cagey, and gruesome in their violence. B'Elanna remarks that it feels almost Cardassian. This (Voyager's involvement) is eventually revealed to be a Trabe plot (they're pissed Voyager backed out of helping them assassinate the Kazon's leaders) but what the audience knows and Voyager doesn't yet is that Seska is working WITH the Trabe. Playing both sides. As a spy within the Kazon she can make them more vulnerable to the Trabe and the Trabe have WAY more power and resources so of course Seska's gonna be on their side. Chakotay is the first one to figure this all out and he can't believe that Seska would do something like that. Not Seska specifically, anyone. Here we get more into the Maquis and Chakotay's thoughts and feelings on why he initially joined and how he feels about the movement now (still very passionately positive I refuse to believe otherwise). I hate the idea media LOOOVES to push that people who use violence in pursuit of noble goals 'pollute' that 'pure' goal or are 'just like their oppressors'. Shut uuup kill Cardassians kill the Trabe.

So Janeway's like this is incredibly unfortunate but now that we've cleared Voyager's name we really can't interfere with whatever's going on. Chakotay thinks Seska's doing something but we don't know for SURE and I don't wanna involve us unnecessarily let's just go. Chakotay argues against this and there's a tense moment during the meeting where it seems like there's gonna be a fight but Chakotay momentarily lets it be and instead speaks to Janeway one-on-one where we get much the same result. Ends on a sour note where Chakotay says he respects Janeway but their 'blended' crew is looking a lot like a Starfleet one. (He means this sort of behavior is exactly what he left Starfleet over: Inability to do enough good in his eyes due to a desire to remain more Neutrally Benevolent.) Later we get a scene of Chakotay talking in private to Neelix. They're using vague, mysterious language bc it's tv. After this we get hints that Chakotay's been talking to people in secret but we aren't told who or why. Eventually, several episodes later, Voyager is in a pinch and at the climax of the conflict someone helps them out of an impossible situation. The Kazon! Two different sects in fact which is highly unusual. It's revealed that Chakotay has been communicating with the Kazon behind everyone's back. He obviously hasn't told them anything about Voyager or given them anything which Neelix (who's been helping him) found hard to believe. He, along with all others in the delta quadrant, didn't think much of the Kazon but with one stone we've showcased both that the Kazon are like, people. Who want to live peacefully and are capable of working together which canon and the Trabe say is impossible. AND that Chakotay is excellent at convincing and uniting people. Honestly, Janeway and Tuvok conspired behind Chakotay's back enough that he deserves to do it at LEAST once and it's for an excellent cause. The Kazon show Voyager proof that Seska's been playing both sides using Cardassian tactics the Maquis recognize. She has the ear of the strongest sects as well as the Trabe. If Voyager doesn't help the Kazon, they're all going to be wiped out or enslaved again, the Trabe taking their homeworld. Someone points out that the Kazon just saved their lives. Chakotay points out that since Seska's behind this and he brought Seska here- Janeway interrupts. We brought Seska here, commander. If she started this, we'll be sure to finish it. [to the table] Together. The crew, united, (along with the Kazon!) all agree enthusiastically. Ideally, you know, there wouldn't be these third parties coming in to help the Kazon as if they Kazon are incapable of helping themselves but I'm formatting this as a Voyager plotline so that can't happen entirely - the main characters have to be involved BUT leaving off with them having two sects as allies gives us room to have Kazon characters interacting positively with the crew and each other. Maybe there could be two reoccurring characters from different sects and them slowly getting along in a genuine way acts as like a microcosm of what the Kazon can do (and parallels Starfleet v Maquis). I want it to be made clear through this plotline that the image of the Kazon as violent thugs is largely manufactured by the Trabe and their guarding of and constant quest for more resources is due to their background of having nothing. I hope connecting them to the Maquis in how they're painted and the Bajorans in how the Trabe and Cardassians exploit them also makes it seem less like the Kazon are idiots with no culture besides violence and more like this could happen to any marginalized group. Also Seska seems like such a villain to Chakotay specifically that I think they should get to fully duke it out. Ideologically.

[penumbra-mayhem]

Beautiful

David/Angel fic (t4t)

————————————

Angel groaned in frustration. It was useless, she wasn’t going to get it right. She slammed her hand down onto the bathroom counter, her bangles clinking in agreement.

Maybe it was sign. Maybe she shouldn't go. She aggressively wiped at her forehead, then groaned again as she could feel tears prick her eyes, threatening to ruin the makeup she’d spent so long perfecting.

"Angel?" David called from the living room, "Are you okay?"

She took a breath and brightened her tone, "Yep, I'm fine, just finishing up!" That tone was not bright. It was abysmally sad. And pathetic. And David could tell.

A moment later, he was marching into their bathroom. He looked dashing, decked in an all-black velvet suit, salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled, wedding band gleaming on his finger.

The sight of him just made Angel more self-conscious. She fixed a smile on her face; he saw through it immediately.

"Beautiful, what's wrong?" he asked.

The pet name brought a flood of tears to her eyes. "Shit," Angel muttered as she threw her head back, willing the tears to stay put and not run down her cheeks.

"Angel?" David moved towards her, placing his hands on her waist.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Angel stammered, hanging her head once she got the tears under control, "Ugh, this is so stupid."

"What is?"

"Nothing,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Angel..." David urged.

She huffed and looked anywhere but at him. "I just...I can't get this bindi right and I've tried like three fucking times and I don't want to wear a sticker one cause I hate how they feel on my skin but this shit is being uncooperative!" Angel ranted, shaking the bottle of liquid bindi in her angry fist, "And now I'm starting to think that maybe it's not the bindi that looks wrong and it's just my face!"

David watched as Angel caught her breath, his stare dark and unrelenting. She could hear a restrained growl rumbling in his chest.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm being stupid—"

"Angel," David cut her off, his voice like water rushing over stones, "look at me."

She sighed and raised her eyes to meet David's gaze. He looked at her like an artist looks at their muse—taking note of each detail of her skin, following the flow of her bone structure, noticing where the light hit her nose and cheeks and lips. Had it been anyone else, Angel would have felt studied and scrutinized. But with David, she just felt seen. And when he spoke, it was like being serenaded:

"Now, you know I don't say things flippantly. I mean what I say. So, hear me when I say this. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. —Ah, ah—" David interjected, cutting Angel off as she opened her mouth to argue, "The most beautiful woman. You look radiant. You look luxurious. You're breathtaking—always. With and without your makeup. With and without your bindi. No matter where you are, what you're wearing, what you're doing. You are the most beautiful. You hear me?"

Angel would have done anything to stay held in his gaze. "Yeah, I hear you,” she mumbled, not entirely convinced.

"Good. Now can I give you a kiss, or will that mess with your makeup?"

"No, you can give me a kiss."

David smirked and gingerly pressed a kiss to Angel's glossy lips. "Now give it here," he muttered.

"What?"

"The bottle," David replied, "Give it."

Angel passed him the liquid bindi and watched silently as he unscrewed it and pulled out the applicator.

"Hold still," David murmured, placing a delicate finger under her chin and tilting her head up. He held the applicator with a steady hand and dabbed her forehead with it once, then twice for good measure.

"Does that work?" David asked as he stepped back, putting the applicator back in the bottle.

Angel blinked from her love-induced stupor before turning to face the mirror. The angles of her figure that she had been agonizing over now appeared…softer. The royal blue fabric of her saree flowed over her curves just as she had been intending. Her jhumka earrings framed her jaw, the light reflecting off the gold bells and dancing playfully across her smooth skin. And the maroon bindi, placed precisely where she’d wanted it, brought the entire ensemble together. Angel started to see what David had been talking about. Radiant. Luxurious. Beautiful.

“It’s perfect,” she exhaled, before turning back around to face him, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” David said, giving her another small kiss, “anything for my angel. Now come on, let’s go.”

————————————

thanks for reading! i'm putting my thoughts here cause there are too many for the tags :P

I’ve been feeling like my fics have been a bit too dialogue-heavy, so I wrote this to practice my descriptive writing. (There still ended up being quite a bit of dialogue but oh well.)

I also kinda wanted to explore the struggle of dressing formally as a trans person. I often will have a cool formal outfit in mind for an event, but when I put it on everything looks wrong on my body and I end up not wanting to go to the event at all.

Also please note, I am not South Asian. I tried my best to do research and write accurately/respectfully, but if I wrote anything wrong feel free to correct me and please know it was not done maliciously. <3

tag: @angel-shaw

[hanayotta]

i feel like li lianhua coming to love fang duobing goes hand in hand with forgiving his past self. like in the scene in episode 6, where he talks to his shifus grave and draws the parallels between fang duobing and you li xiangyi - he does it fondly. he calls him reckless, arrogant and a piece of work. he also calls him talented and he smiles while talking about him.

so while fang duobing matures A LOT (i've hardly ever seen a character with that much noticeable emotional growth and learning curve! we should acknowledge it more, he's no naive boy anymore by the end), atleast in the beginning he mirrors to li lianhua his own past self that the latter's been trying to bury so desperately. li xiangyi of the past who has made mistakes, who was naive (naiver even than li lianhua is aware of at this point) and selfish. but it feels like, over the 10 years of solitude he has started to accept his past, weaknesses included. and over the course of the show, while grudgingly coming to love fang duobing and all his quirks he learns to see value in those quirks the way he had them, as well.

[broodwoof]

everyone writing their age gap ship as young rook with emmrich (SO GOOD btw. literally they're great)

meanwhile my age gap ship is my 50 y/o warden with davrin akljfskljgs

[zvahlne]

guys it's official baby zvahlne now ships laurmau.

okay but fr this is!!!!! this scene is so important to me!!!! it is actually when i started shipping laurmau as a kid because like. WELL LAURANCE SAID IT BEST, "i love that you can joke with me like this.".... I LOVE THAT THEY CAN JOKE WITH EACH OTHER LIKE THIS!!!

it's exactly what i love about their dynamic... they play with each other... it makes me so happy... i think making each other laugh is my favorite thing a couple can do. and these two just laugh and laugh. they're so comfortable with each other to do this it makes me so emotional. and they're so good at bouncing off each other. it's. ouh. the chemistry. oh god. mylaurmau

[gunlicker13]

random notes scattered around sierpinski

(secret santa for @hexidecimaldrms !!)

[heyimkana]

oh my god i think i just read the best jinwoo fic ever

[the-stars-are-warring]

Delta Squad Week Day 1

Yippee! Finished a thing for an event and I even met the (alt) prompt! (You're Hurt)

Today its Scorch and Fixer cause they're not presented as a duo very often.

Scorch pops the seal on his helmet and inhales. The LAARTI's engines hum and he relishes the sound. "You know? I don't think I'm going to miss this planet." Sev snorts and Boss's helmet twitches like he's rolling his eyes.

"Put your shab'la helmet back on." Fixer snaps and Scorch groans.

"Would you relax Fixer. Mission accomplished we're on exf-" Something explodes behind them and Scorch shuts up and goes to pull his helmet back on but then the floor bucks under him and Scorch grabs for the wall (floor? Ceiling?) with the image of Boss mid-stagger with Sev falling into him as the last thing he remembers seeing before he wraps his arms over his head and bounces off of something as they hit the ground.

Then the next thing Scorch knows his ears are ringing and his teeth ache like he's been clenching them.

"Shab." He unfolds himself carefully. There's blood on his upper arm- and he can feel it running down the side of his face when he moves.

He can still feel his extremities though and his legs and arms listen when he rolls over and scrambles towards the daylight visible through the buckled metal of the hull.

"Six-two? Scorch!!"

He glances up in time to see Fixer's helmet as he grabs Scorch's arm and hauls him the rest of the way out of the wreckage. There's a gouge mark across Fixer's chest. Shrapnel probably.

"All good here." Scorch reports as Fixer hauls him upright.

"You're bleeding. Di'kut." Fixer snaps, pulling him away from the wreck. Scorch glances back at the Laarti. The pilot did a damn-fine job of setting them down, it's almost upright, and they didn't even snap off the wing that wasn't hit by a shab'la missile.

"Scorch!" There's unmistakable relief in Sev's voice as he darts over to them. Scorch eyes Sev critically.

"Many more of these landings and you're gonna look like Omega with their nice stealth armour." Scorch comments indicating the burn mark along the right side of Sev's armour.

"big talk for a man with half a face." Sev snaps back.

"Scorch - Fixer?" Boss is here too.

"Squad accounted for." Fixer reports.

"I'm good." Scorch agrees.

Boss looks at him, tilt of the helmet skeptical.

"Pilot is pinned in the cockpit." Sev reports - "I think he's OK too." Boss nods sharply.

"Ok, Sev, and I will get the pilot, Fourty - "

"Pull tracking data out of the cockpit if you can." Fixer interrupts. "I'll get the bleeding stopped here."

Boss nods and grabs Sev's shoulder. The two of them head back towards the downed laarti as Fixer turns to Scorch.

"Hold Still."

"Aw come on, Fixer I'm fine."

"You're hurt." Fixer says, unmoved. "And probably concussed."

Scorch rolls his eyes. "And it's Taunsday."

Fixer grunts and grabs Scorch's slightly longer than regulation hair, tilting the demolition expert's head to one side. Scorch flinches.

"Shab that stings!"

"Because you've got a piece of shrapnel in your neck." Fixer says.

"And lucky me, you've still got half an ear. Not that you'll use it to listen to regulations. Like keeping your Shabla bucket on." Scorch winces as Fixer releases him and fishes in one of his pockets for supplies, retrieving some topical bacta gel, pliers, disinfectant. It was stupid to pull off his helmet - but now Fixer is acting worried.

"Will I die?" Scorch asks brightly and Fixer exhales through his nose, the sound hissing through the voice projector in his helmet.

"Pretty sure your brain died in the incubation chamber and the rest of you just hasn't noticed yet Mir'sheb."

Scorch cackles. then hisses as Fixer grabs his head again.

"Hey! You don't have to hold on to me you know?"

"I told you to sit still and you didn't" Fixer retorts, cocking his head and spreading some of the bacta gel over the side of Scorch's skull.

"Ow." Scorch complains but his brother just tilts his head the other direction turning his attention to Scorch's neck.

"You're a pain in my Shebs you know that? Stop moving."

"Aw you say the nicest thi-" Scorch breaks off with a yelp as something is pulled from his neck. Before he can really react though, Fixer stuffs a bacta dressing into the wound.

"Fierfek" Scorch manages once he's gotten his breath back hand pressed to his neck regardless of the fact Fixer is already holding the dressing in place. "It didn't shabla hurt before you started poking me."

"I could put some of it back in if you want." Fixer offers, deadpan lifting a piece of metal as wide as his thumb and nearly twice as long with the pliers. Scorch leans away.

"Your bedside manner is Osik. Be a miracle if I ever set foot in a hospital ever again."

"You wearing your damn buy'ce that' be the miracle." Fixer snaps back, pulling his hand free, leaving Scorch to hold the dressing in place.

"Think it'll scar?" Scorch asks as Fixer circles him, looking for more shrapnel. "Apparently ladies like scars." Fixer pauses to stare at him for a second. Scorch wonders if now is a bad time to go for his record of 'most times I made Fixer sigh loudly in ten minutes' and then remembers he doesn't have his bucket or HUD to track the time.

"Well if we ever end up on triple zero again you let me know how it goes testing that theory." Fixer says finally, He leans in again using the small set of pliers to pull a few more slivers of metal out of Scorch's neck and jaw.

Scorch flinches again and Fixer grunts in frustration grabbing the demolition expert's hair again to hold his head still.

"Ow" Scorch emphasizes. "You did that on purpose."

Again the strange - tinney sound the helmet vocoder makes when Fixer sighs. "If you'd worn your shabla helmet we wouldn't be doing this at all." He pulls another few pieces of metal from Scorch's skin.

"Alright alright I get it." Scorch tries to inch away but Fixer's fingers just tighten in his hair. "OWCH, I'm sorry ok? And I swear from now on I'll never take off my helmet unless we're safe in a base or on a Venerator."

"Alright. Alright." Fixer releases Scorch and throws his hands up. "The rest can wait till we get back and a med-droid can look after you." The two of them lapse into silence for a moment as Fixer passes Scorch a bit of bacta gel to smear on his neck.

Fixer is done cleaning the pliers and is tucking things methodically back into his belt when Boss and Sev reappear.

"Got the pilot." Boss reports, walking a half-step behind the other clone like he half expects to have to catch him.

"And some discarded junk." Sev tosses a helmet and Scorch catches it, turning it over to inspect it.

"Check it out Fixer, new scratch!" Fixer's helmet jerks as he rolls his eyes.

"Dik'ut"

[viric-dreams]

Charlotte Pryce told no one the day she was leaving for London. That's not to say that no one knew of her intentions. It was the source of enough strife between her and her mother. Why would she ever leave Cardiff? Who would possibly care for her, a widow of three? Does she expect to remarry down there? It's foolish of her to leave everything behind for no good reason. And if she leaves, insists on her willfulness, she would be leaving it all behind.

She left enough in the end--anything from her husband's estate that couldn't be liquidated, the furniture, countless keepsakes, a carefully burnt letter, her mourning garb. Her best wishes to her parents and her siblings, that maybe one day they would understand. She left it all and boarded that ship with three kids and two trunks to her name. Whether her mother wouldn't or couldn't understand was no longer her concern--she knew what London had to offer her, had to offer all of them: Freedom. A chance to be more than someone's wife, someone's daughter. A chance for her children to have that same freedom one day. That they wouldn't be tangled in their family's web of influence--swayed by the money they used as a bridle. For it was never so direct. The influence it bought in her life was a subtle one--guiding her behaviour. One that she's made peace to do without.

Everything has its price, however, and one only gets so far by one's own means. She'd connected herself with an organisation--one that takes newcomers under their wing and seeks to give them a place to stay. Charlotte may have principles, but not pride. But what she hadn't accounted for was the man waiting for her on the other side of the desk.

Robin. Not the one from her memories--his hair is streaked with grey. There's a sharpness etched into his features entirely absent from their youth. His eyes glisten in the lamplight, threatening to spill over into a mirrored emotion clawing at her chest. Of course he'd be involved in a scheme like this. Her brother was never able to keep his hands out of the social sphere--the very thing that set him forward on the path by which fate had doomed him. He looks at her as if she's going to vanish the moment he blinks, revealing the name she'd written on that form a cruel trick of the mind.

His name is half way out of her mouth before he embraces her, a string of hurried words falling from his lips and--yes. It really is him, and how she missed him. Yet even as they separate--as he turns to meet her kids in person for the first time, no longer names in a letter, tells them how surprised he is, how glad he is to see them in London--that warmth turns sour. She knew he was in London. She knew it was possible that they'd run into each other. But now? The promises fall like stones down an empty well, echoing darkly as they crash against the ground. That she shouldn't worry--he has the perfect place set up for them--that his own home is large enough to accommodate. And they can live together, just like summer holidays. Wouldn't that be grand? Something invisible tightens its claws around her chest. Did she not come here to shake free from her family's grasp, and the inevitable terms and conditions that come from their generosity?

But Robin's different. He hardly counts as family--not after what they'd done to him, how they'd pushed him out and all but banned his name. But he's family in the way that matters, the way he tells her--people who stick together, no matter what. And after she'd stuck with him--been the only one to write after all of these years--it's the least he can do. Maybe it would be different. She missed him, after all. It's certainly what's best for the children--a stable home, another family member around to care for them, the extra money able to be invested in their needs.

She takes her trunks and follows him to their new home.

[aseuki]

Comes in here with a longass post hello! Been meaning to get around to illustrating some Species Headcanons @humming-fly @alagaesia-overlord and I have been cooking up! Major props to them for helping me write the script hahaha it wouldn't have been possible without them!

This is a little segment I have been wanting to try for a bit, just a nice moment to dispense lore in a fun way! I can't promise that more will be out in a necessarily timely manner, but I can promise that more will be on its way. Someday!

Until then, I hope you all enjoy these fun lil thoughts! 🤗

[elluqien710]

when i accidentally mention i "write sometimes" in a conversation

them: oh wow! you write? me, stuttering: er. yeah...? ig? like define write-- them: dang, that's so cool! what do you usually write about? me: uh... me: *looks at my fantasy/adventure/a little twinge of scifi trash-but-i'm-trying-to-fix-it-ok "novel," my 5 half-abandoned wips on a variety of topics from medival to gorey crime to fairies, my set of questionable i-tried-to-do-poetry-with-an-emphasis-on-tried in a notebook, my lotr/silm and star wars and harry potter unfinished fanfics sleeping on ellipsus, my dramaticly written battles of the immune system from a too vivid imagination, and angry discourse on why ai is #Not the Best on a google document* me: them: me: stuff.

[tyracaterinagrant]

genuinely hilarious btw how people on twt want soo bad to make matteo a villain in jannik's story or some shit like it's a disney movie. less than a month ago he said they'd talked recently and he's never had anything but good things to say about jannik but to some people it'll never be enough because he made a decision for his career that i understand is hard to digest but it has nothing to do with his relationship with jannik, jannik himself said it doesn't bother him, they both have never indicated they weren't on good terms. like yeah we can't ever really know the truth behind what they say in public, but i think we should stick with what we can see and read, yeah? because making wild assumptions based on nothing doesn't lead to anything good, it's just speculation and i don't see what anyone gains from it?? i think maybe some people need to grow up and accept that they don't know these people. they don't know jannik and what he thinks or feels or who he talks to or who avoids him or whatever. we know what he shows and tells us and that has to be enough because otherwise we go down dangerous paths