#this is a hobby for me to write

[wcrstarter]

gentle psa, i will not engage with asks that send allegations about one of my writing partners behind an anon. Unless you have some sort of receipts to back up claims, i will delete and ignore the message.

Frankly, it comes across off as a bit of drama stirring to send something anon about one of my mutuals/rp partners without any sort of proof. I left highschool a long time ago, I have no interest in that sort of behaviour in OOC communications. If you do not like someone I write with, it is up to you to filter your online experiences.

[persicipen-archive]

[lostlegendaerie]

there's something deeply gutting about being a writer right now. watching studio execs brag about starving people like you out of your very house just to not pay you anything above the pennies you currently make. watching some people cheer over AO3 being targeted for a DDOS attack. the complete lack of profitability of writing commissions or writing in general in transformative spaces, especially in contrast to fanart. the pivot of so many social media platforms to be video and image based near-exclusively.

I don't know. it just makes me sad to know that the hobby that kept me alive while growing up homeschooled with dial-up internet and local antenna TV... is only ever gonna be a side job with minimal engagement. I know this site is good about supporting libraries and the concept of books but, do me a favor? Reach out to a writer friend you know. Leave a comment on your last five read stories on your favorite website.

Tell us you care.

[morganbritton132]

More Steve Has Older Siblings AU nonsense:

1. The first Christmas after he told his parents he was too old for babysitters, he spent alone. His parents were snowed in at some ski resort. His dad said over the phone that they’d call one of his siblings to pick him up so he can spend the holiday with them. He either forgot to call or they ignored the request, because Steve spent the day waiting for someone to come by but no one ever did. He opened his presents alone and lied about it when his mom called that night. Santa had died for him years before, but the spirit of Christmas never really returned after that year.

2. Steve’s dad was on the swim team in high school. Swears he would’ve made it to the Olympics if he hadn’t torn his rotator cuff. He never went to a single one of Steve’s basketball games but went to every swim meet he had his freshman year. Steve thinks his dad stopped coming to his meets because he realized his son was a better swimmer than he ever was.

3. Steve had always been a little scared of the night when he was a kid and when the blue glow of the pool on his ceiling made too many moving shadows, he’d sit at the top of the stairs in the hallway. His mom, who has her own troubles sleeping, sometimes would sit with him. They don’t talk much and they never go downstairs even though Tommy’s mom would’ve gotten him warm milk by now.. The stairs creaked too much and they didn’t want to wake Dad, so they sit there together. Shoulder to shoulder, even on the nights Steve wishes more than anything that she’d hug him. They stop having this time together when she eventually gets a sleeping pill prescription.

4. Claire, being the only other girl in the house, was expected to take care of the new baby, so she did. Steve was bathed, changed, and fed when needed. She never hurt him. She didn’t abandon him. He was always at least in ear shot, but she wasn’t interested in him beyond the duty of childcare. She didn’t talk to him. She didn’t play with him. She didn’t hold him more than she had to. Steve gets it, kinda. He’s not her kid. She’s not his mom. It doesn’t make it hurt less when he sees how good she is with her own kids.

[inkskinned]

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

thinking about Lucanis again (always). and how so much of his narrative boils down to the theme of "control". and of course also about how this applies to the Rook x Lucanis relationship.

like the first scenes with him in the game are, in theory, about freeing him from the Ossuary (although he seems to have an escape attempt already in progress at the time, they certainly weren't just letting him keep those knives on him for enrichment purposes, Rook just provided an opening/distraction he could take advantage of and crucially Rook has A Way Out of the whole place not just a cell). but ACTUALLY the purpose it to put him right into a new contract for Us, one set up by his own grandmother and first talon no less, and the person he has the MOST trouble saying no to. He's escaped torture and the Venatori for sure but he still isn't free, which I think is part of what leads to Spite's confusion/the Inner Demons plotline. He agrees to the contract but you can tell it's in many parts out of a sense of duty/mourning vs something he actively wants to do for himself. And then the FIRST real heartfelt conversation you have with him, where he tells you "even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me." But he's chaffaing at that! He thinks "to live truly is to live fully" and so directly tells you he doesn't think he's lived a life true to himself. He's been constantly smothered by the weight of expectations around him, even though he longs for more.

And then once you get him to the Lighthouse you see how this Big lack of control in his life comes out as all these smaller frustrations. He's terrified of sleeping and downing 11 cups of coffee per hour because sleeping means he will lose control to Spite, even though Spite is shown to flee rather than fight when he feels threatened, and once calmed down, is more drawn to just benign curiosity/mischief than anything actively malicious. Like if Lucanis loses control and sleeps for a few hours he is not going to wake up surrounded by bloodshed, he's going to wake up to a belly full of candle wax because he wouldn't like Spite taste one while they were awake. Which is the other half of this--he constantly denying Spite's impulses for reasons that in some ways make sense (HE doesn't want to eat candles), but not in a way that's actually satisfying to either of them (why not just take a bite, chew for a bit, and spit it out so Spite knows they kind of suck actually?). But he CAN say no to Spite and so he does. Over and over. Spite's one of the few people he can deny things without feeling bad about it, because it's HIS body he doesn't like that has to share now (<- this is what he thinks about it at first anyway, but he's wrong, it's both of theirs and it's useless to try to hold those kind of boundaries forever. but the "no its mine" spiteful instinct is very beautifully ironic and reflective of them both and their early relationship).

And personally I think this is where his fear of his own desires and intimacy is coming from, at the root. I don't think he's afraid of the concept of being in a romance or having feelings (even if they're unusual and rare for him, this is by no means incompatible with him being demi) but I DO think he is afraid of the kind of power it gives people over you. Getting something you want means there's something else that can be taken away. Admitting your desire means the other person has the opportunity to deny that. The more you have, the more you have to lose, and he has lost again and again and again in his life--his parents, his childhood to the crows, his independence, even his future--he doesn't aspire to be first Talon but he knows the rumors. He knows his grandmother wanted it for him, not Illario. His life path has been laid out for him by others and up to this point he has simply been going along with it anyway, even though it bothers him. He COULD argue and fight Caterina and push for Illario who actually wants the job to be First Talon instead, but from The Wigmaker Job we know he doesn't. He just ignores it and pretends maybe it won't happen, without him having to do any of the work. Which is why in the end Illario is the one who has to make a move about it (and even warns Lucanis of this!!!!). Lucanis KNOWS all this makes him a target but is neither taking charge or getting off of the train tracks, just closes his eyes.

And I think THIS context is what makes the almost kiss scene in the pantry make more sense to me. Rather than being afraid of having feelings (and then NEVER addressing this in game with a Rook who pursues him anyway) or not knowing how to finish what he's started via crow seduction training, it's more like this is a pivotal moment where he can actively choose to step off the planned path of be given a job -> kill the gods -> enact revenge -> go home. even if he doesn't at that point realize that a relationship with Rook could be something that lasts long-term, the very act of doing something just for himself is what's foreign and scary and hard. It's that first step off the tracks, and even if he were to keep walking in the same direction, it means he's making a choice about it. he's accepting that one way or another it IS in his power to go along with everyone else's plans or not. Hence the hesitation, and drawing back, and needing to clear his head.

And then the rest of Rook's role in his narrative IS about giving him more and more control for himself. Inner Demons, dealing with Illario, his questlines move less towards revenge and more towards just... not being locked into one fate. Which of course Caterina comes back and immediately tries to overturn by declaring him First Talon after all, even though she and him and everyone else knows she's not ACTUALLY ready to give up her rule/decision making power yet. Which in a way is maddening because cmon I did all this work here so this sad man could have some agency in his own life just to watch him get sucked right back in (which, at least we get many directions to headcanon from here), but there's no denying that THIS version of Lucanis at least is actually going in with his eyes open now. THIS Lucanis has had a taste of life outside the Crows, and seen the politics and power dynamics in other places/organizations, and finally has emotional ties to the big picture state of the world now, both in relationship and friendship paths with Rook. He's not just hyper focused on each contract as it's given to him now, he's looking at the whole thing.

Anyway of course the beautiful culmination of all this within the romance is the lighthouse scene with Rook, where he finally is willing to let himself be vulnerable (emotionally and physically), and fall asleep without fear of what Spite's going to do in the meanwhile. He also (depending on dialogue choice) finally talks about his feelings directly with you for the first time instead of in roundabout ways (the dessert being "not enough" is it really the dessert you mean, Lucanis. is it.). Even though he is STILL reluctant to verbally admit his feelings or let Rook share their own at this point, I think that's more a narrative choice about saving those last emotional dialogue options for the big final battle. but it is another point where he does have to stop just following along and ACTIVELY choose that yes, yes sometimes loving is worth the risk of losing it. Even if someone takes it away from you later, even if you don't survive it, sometimes the love alone makes it worth it.

I have like another 5000 words I could add into about how Spite ties into all this, about how having the demon in him is something he both fears AND how it forces him to acknowledge that actually yes he DOES share the same base feelings/instincts Spite does in terms of not wanting to be told what to do. And how this in a way is part of what gives him permission to act on it since he can no longer just shove it down out of sight. but this post is long enough already so i'm just going to take the rest of this and gnaw on it all day like a chew toy I guess.

anyway. AHG. it is kind of frustrating that the culmination of his arc seems to be "and then he got the job he never wanted anyway" but I do think at least all this prepares him for it in a way Caterina actively failed to actually do on her own. He NEEDED that step away from his straightforward path. Whether he stays first talon or not, and with or without rook as a romantic partner, he's finally been able to explore ideas outside the expectations of others.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

-> people stealing, binding and selling fics on Etsy, risking everything that AO3 has built since the Anne Rice lawsuits

-> AI scraping being everywhere and Gen Z seeing nothing wrong with using AI to "help" fanfiction or outright "write it" for them, while older fanfic authors have struggled for years to perfect the style you love

-> comments being down across the board and consumption culture being at an all time high. a fic gets 800 notes practically overnight and doesn't get a single comment (and sometimes I literally have to beg for comments/feedback on my fics when I know that hundreds of people are reading them)

-> me, grinding my teeth while pouring my heart and soul into a 40k fic that I know will be forgotten by fandom in a month or could possibly be stolen to be sold as a "novel": I do this because I love this. I do this because I love this. I do this because it's my passion. I don't want to quit doing something that I love so much.

[lesbianherald]

woke up literally with a scene from my fantasy fic hitting me like a train its not even remotely close to the start of it like its in the second half but I wrote it anyways and when I tell you I feel fucking crazy but free I really mean it this time.

i rarely like to say people will go crazy for something because it feels like tooting my own horn but I do think for better or worse people will respond to this one DKLFJHSDFLK

[fandomsnrambles]

So crazy Wu is the master of creation yet we never see him create anything

I’m talking both element wise and just in general

Like let my guy have a hobby!!!

[peachy-pineapples-2003]

One thing about me is that I am a hobby girl and I am deeply saddened by the fact that I will likely never have the time to do all the things I want to learn.

Like I love knitting and baking and writing and dancing but I also wanna garden, learn a different language, learn to play the piano, learn to ice skate, do pilates, learn to sew do pottery, paint and much more.

But I simply don't have time for that because I have to go to school and make money 🥲

[veevil]

How does Siren Erik wear a wedding ring if he has webbed fingers? The options I see are:

Tattoo, ring is pierced through the webs, or ring is kept on a chain on his neck.

(Love your art as always!)

he would wear it as a necklace💍 no piercing his delicate little fingies

[canisalbus]

Hey, I’m new to Tumblr, but I’ve seen your characters around the internet and I love them so much!! Everyone has so much love for Machete and Vasco and your art is so cool to see! Do you have any tips for an aspiring artist and creative writer?

Hi! Welcome to tumblr! I'm glad to hear you like my dogs :]

I'm not really a writer, and I also completely lose my confidence when I'm trying to explain my art processes. So this is probably an obvious, unhelpful platitude at best, but one thing I've realized is that you should allow yourself to be self-indulgent. If you're the primary target audience of your own work, it generates passion and keeps you inspired and motivated. I like to believe that people who see your creations are more likely to respond to them positively if they can sense that you're putting your heart and soul to them.

[so-very-small]

reminder that it’s okay to just write ‘the fun parts’ of a story if you want. if you get joy from writing the same scenario (like, a g/t meeting, certain comfort scenario, a specific fearplay moment) you can just write that. you don’t have to feel guilty for not writing build up or a whole story around it. if it’s just for you, it doesn’t need context. and if you wanna share it with others. a quick ‘hey these are my OCs [with possibly a brief description] when they [scenario here]’ is usually enough context for readers to enjoy it as a short story.

this applies to drawing too. write and/or draw what you want. let yourself go wild with ‘the fun parts’. you deserve to have fun.

[palmastrings]

Mephisto brain rot

To be born for someone else.

Mephistopheles knew his place in the world from a young age. Being part of nobility, no matter how privileged he was, didn't mean he ever had the freedom to choose what he wanted in life. It was only whatever reflected well on his family. The silver spoon in his mouth could never cure the emptiness in his soul nor the realization that he could never be what he was made for.

From the moment he learned to utter words, before he could recognize food, he knew Diavolo. The crown prince was born just a little earlier, the sole heir to the gilded throne of hell, fated to be alone following the sudden passing of his mother. The young prince was a mysterious face, even to the demons closest to the royal family. Mephisto was special though. He was conceived to be Diavolo's playmate. He could be the key to reconnecting the king and his son to the rest of the Devildom.

For many years he felt gratified. He grew up next to Diavolo, orbiting to his side at every opportunity. His purpose was destined to be fulfilled, a promise whispered to him. The pair grew powerful and hallowed. When the crowds sang Diavolo's praises, it was as if they praised him too. Mephisto was so content, he failed to miss the distant gaze in Diavolo's eyes, or the growing ambition in Diavolo's heart to do more in life than just this.

Mephisto knew his place in the world from a young age. Nobility was above common demons and were expected to affirm that authority when they saw something out of line. Mephisto thought he knew Diavolo's place too. The next king of Hell, to rule with an iron fist and affirm the power of the Devildom to any adversaries foolish enough to question the power of demons. There was always an imaginary script Mephisto felt the world followed, nobody had taught him differently. So, imagine his utter disbelief when, out of the blue, Diavolo confided to him that he'd had a diplomatic meeting with the Morning Star himself, and it went FABULOUSLY? Watching Diavolo ramble on and on about the world outside of the Devildom, about peace and understanding, almost sent Mephisto into cardiac arrest on the spot. Where had this come from all of a sudden? He knew Diavolo like the back of his hand. He knew what he did and didn't eat, he knew his routine from morning until night, he knew what made him smile in approval. So how could he have missed it? His purpose is to be Diavolo's right hand, his support and advisor, his best friend.

Nothing could hide the growing swell of resentment and pain in his heart.

Mephistopheles though he knew his place in the world. He was confused, confused how quickly Diavolo turned his back on him to sing the praises of those damned angels. How Diavolo could only spare a polite smile at him whenever Mephistopheles brought news of the good work he had done to keep order in the rising chaos of Diavolo's new rule, or of the growing wealth of their class? Be that as it may, Mephistopheles chased to be in Diavolo's space anyways. He observed from as close as he could. He felt a growing twinge of disgust as the crown prince resigned himself to keeping the traitorous rebels comfortable.

Which now brought him to them. Seven shooting stars, seven enemies of the realm. Seven freshly banished doves stripped of their pristine feathers, come to mingle with the prince. Mephistopheles kept his chin up high, just as he was raised to do. They weren't worth a sparse glance, not from someone like him. The more sadistic part of him reveled in how frightened they were. Those brothers, who bathed in the warmth of the sunlight and the sweet breeze of the Celestial Realm's winds, now found themselves enveloped by the predatory night of the Devildom. Their steps were cautious, afraid to step into the awaiting teeth of Hell's denizens and monsters. A fish out of water indeed.

His glee was short-lived when they quickly climbed the ranks of the long-established hierarchy of demons. They swallowed their fear, pushed it down their throats into their stomachs. Mephistopheles made the mistake of believing they would just be content with being seen as meek fallen angels, unable to crawl out of Diavolo's fenced yard. But they were rebels after all, intolerant to mistreatment. They struck fear into the hearts of demons everywhere, a sinful song they sang that sent everyone reeling back into their homes. Even as high-ranking as Mephisto was, he couldn't look down on them anymore. Finally, the day would come when they would outrank even him.

The path carved out for him was now trampled. No longer was Mephistopheles revered, but mocked. Every attempt he took to fall into Diavolo's circle was in vain. He became even more desperate when his own family wouldn't spare a glance his way either. His one purpose in life was to be of service to Diavolo, and he failed. Every prestigious family was now more distant from the crown prince than ever, replaced now with seven fresh faces, and Mephistopheles was to blame.

He starved for purpose. Longed for validation. He stood alone now. Of course, he is respected for his title, but he was missing the closeness of family, no- friendship.

To be more.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Mephisto held the little hand close to him. Nothing in any of the three realms could ever tarnish a moment like this. His little brother. A few fires alight in the palm of his hand. Suddenly nothing in the world mattered anymore, every problem melted away. When he looked in his big eyes, Mephisto saw a piece of his own soul peer back at him. Nothing could ever truly take away from the inner turmoil he felt inside himself, not forever at least. But in the meantime, he could promise one thing. He'll do his brother right.

[madgirlmuahaha]

Ok mad props to Brennan. Just. Mad props.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from channeling my mediocre writing skills into a longfic, it’s that when you start a story, especially an elaborate one where you’re crafting the world as you go and figuring out the kinks along the way, you don’t have to have everything completely sorted 100% of the way on day 1. You just have to leave enough details and loose ends to do something interesting with later.

And boy is the “something interesting” in episode 17 of Junior Year INTERESTING.

I don’t think Ankarna existed back in the first episodes of Freshman Year (though I also don’t want to underestimate the depth of BLeeM’s initial world building, lol) . I don’t know if it was canon in that moment that Jace and Porter were in the middle of their own conspiracy running tangent to the whole Kalvaxus thing. And honestly, it doesn’t really matter to me. Because he knew that they had been singled out for suspicious behavior, and set up just enough details in Freshman and Sophomore year to circle back to once he figured out exactly what kind of conspiracy they would be involved in.

It’s just the kind of writing that really gets to me. It’s like a Chekov’s gun that is definitely placed on the mantle with the intent to use it later, but the actual relevance and context isn’t decided upon by the writer until much, much later. You don’t know the joke yet but you have a perfect punchline.

[crushedsweets]

COOKIES not proofread, 528 words, nina n toby hanging out @ the cabin!

The floorboards creaked under Toby’s Converse. He shoved his coat off and onto Tim’s recliner, soaked in the smell of cigarettes and dirt. They’ve tried cleaning that damn thing before, dragging it out front and spraying it down with a hose and dish soap. Toby’s pretty sure that’s the source of the dirt scent.

He roughly landed on the leather couch, ignoring how his weight further tore the cushions to reveal the inner plush. His head tilted back and he released an exhausted groan, running his torn-up hands over his face. The light seeping in through the window was quickly fading, soon to be replaced with dim moonlight. He stared up at the busted ceiling light for a good long while. 

Toby didn’t even flinch when rapid, loud knocks came pounding on the front door. He was still for a moment, letting squeals and whines pierce his ears. The doorknob began to frantically shake. Toby huffed, using his hands on his knees to hoist himself off the couch. He pulled open the door.

“It wasn’t even-” He grunted, his fist making contact with his chest and face briefly contorting, “Even locked.”

“Your stupid fuckin’ lock is broken, ruins the entire knob,” Nina pushed past him, visibly shivering, “Why don’t you fix it?”

“You just gotta…” He briefly adjusted the knob, closing the door, “Lift it and jiggle a little.” Nina shot him a glare, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. She sniffled, nose running from the cold. That earned her a smile.

“Why’re you wearing that?”

“It’s cold, duh,” She grumbled as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. His eyes flickered to her legs.

“I meant the skirt, smartass. It’s winter.”

“Winter doesn’t start ‘til December, dumbass. I have fleece tights on, anyway,” Nina waved him off, quickly hurrying to his kitchen. He trailed close behind and snagged a stray stool on his way. He watched her set her take a paper towel and wipe crumbs off the kitchen table before setting her tote bag down. Before she could comment, he mentioned how Tim and Brian had been over. That explained the mess, earning an understanding ‘oh.’ Toby wasn’t neat by any means, but his upbringing left him uncomfortable with an overwhelmingly dirty environment, contrasting with most people around him. 

Nina wiped down all the counters as she almost immediately began rattling off the details of her day. Toby sat on the stool and observed, making snarky remarks between her rants.

“You’re so–!” She groaned, pushing him slightly as she stormed back to her bag to pull out a box of cookie mix and butter, “Stop being annoying.”

“You’ll be alright,” Toby said, hard-pressed to hold back a lopsided smile, unsure if he was enjoying her company or just excited to have fresh cookies. His fingers drummed against his thigh while Nina worked. Her ponytail swayed between dramatic movements. He liked the ponytail, as much as he thought she always did too much. 

“Can you please be useful and soften the butter?” She drew out the word ‘please’ and batted her lashes, resulting in a scoff. But he listened, pushing himself off the stool and doing as she asked. How familiar.