#whichever way you take that

[jaydovekj]

apollo justice: ace attorney is so great. capcom, why don’t you make an apollo justice trilogy ?

[sp1resong]

quick catified gabriel design

[perpetualcynicism]

“Shikanoin-sama, I am trying to pray. I would be very grateful if I were able to do so in peace.”

“Sorry, sorry. Of course.” A pause. “It’s just that you look so… yummy.”

You withhold a sigh. In a controlled manner, you say, “Shikanoin-sama, please refrain from having thoughts of cannibalism while inside the shrine.”

“Ah, it’s not cannibalism, though,” he points out. “I’m not human, remember?” The statement is accompanied by a flick of his ears.

“Please refrain from having thoughts of eating me while in the shrine,” you rectify evenly. The exasperation you feel does not leak out into your tone.

You can almost hear the kitsune’s pout forming on his face. “…Not even a bite? One little bite? One tiny little bite?” He leans over and pinches his thumb and forefinger together beside your head for demonstration, in case the original message was unclear. 

You reply, “I cannot stop you, Shikanoin-sama. However, if you do so, I will need to ask you to leave.”

“Aw…” His footsteps retreat somewhere behind you. When there is silence, you breathe out and empty your mind, refocusing on your prayer. 

O-Inari-sama…

You feel a soft puff of air on the back of your neck. The hairs on your nape prickle and stand on end; you suppress the shudder that arises. 

You crack your eyes open to cast Shikanoin a stern look. He is standing a few paces away, looking around the shrine’s interior in an exaggerated display of distraction. When he meets your eye, he pulls a surprised face. “What are you looking at me for?” he asks in a tone of complete innocence. “It must have been the wind. It’s very breezy in here, you know.” 

You purse your lips and shut your eyes, thinking, Inari give me strength. 

Just as you have settled back into focus, you feel it again, this time tickling the outer shell of your ear. With a curt sigh, you straighten your back, turning to face him. “Shikanoin-sama, I am afraid must ask you to leave.”

He pulls back from your side. “What? But that wasn’t even biting!”

“Now,” you enunciate, before adding, “Please.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” the kitsune grumbles. He walks backwards out of the shrine, taking slow and deliberate steps. His hands are held out in front of him, his four tails bowed down behind him, as if that is sufficient to convince you of his sincerity. “See? Oh—but before I do go, tell me—are all miko this stingy?”

The urge to return a piece of his tormenting behaviour is irresistible. You allow a drip of sardonicism to enter your voice. “No, only me,” you say without looking at him. “So it is a pity that I am the one you ended up bound to, isn’t it?”

You cannot be certain how your remark is received, so you steal a glance in his direction. To your mild surprise, the kitsune is smiling as he steps outside of the doors.

Once certain you are alone, you decide it best to start the prayer anew. You bow twice, then clap your hands. Pressing your palms together, you mumble, “O-Inari-sama, I do not know why you have sent your messenger to me, nor how I ought to respond to his behaviour. I will admit he does not align with what I expected of a divine spirit, but… I trust there is a reason for this. Please grant me the patience and strength of will to accept his wisdom, and if nothing else, please allow me to retain my privacy in his presence. You are the one who understands most deeply its importance to me.”

You linger in silence for a moment longer. A draft of wind brushes past and rustles the sakura growing outside the shrine. It is breezy here with the spring wind ushering in, you must admit. You bow deeply in front of the altar once more before making your way to the exit.

[moonflowerdamie]

i love that whilst there are many things people in the yellowjackets fandom argue over, there are some we can all agree on. such as.

1: jackie taylor is a lesbian.

and

2: shauna is a biter. the little freak. (affectionate)

[buzzingduck]

Never getting over how freaking gentle Leon is with Ashley, especially in the re4r

[nope-4]

a/n: I wrote this a couple weeks ago and have not continued it since, so I decided to just post what I wrote

Danny was tired. It was exam season, the ghosts hadn't eased up on their attacks despite the stress he had with school, Jazz was off for college (meaning his parents expected him to pick up the slack and add her chores to his chore list...) he was more than tired. He was EXHAUSTED. You couldn't really blame him for what happened. ...at least that's what he's been telling himself.

Why is be being so dramatic, you ask? Well... he may have... sorta accidentally spaced out while flying and found himself waking up out in the middle of a forest full of pine trees. And this forest looked NOTHING like the forest in Amity park.

Now this wouldn't usually be a problem, right? Amity has such a big ectoplasmic presence, he could sense it from anywhere in the world! Except... as previously mentioned, he was physically and mentally exhausted, had barely eaten 3 sandwiches in the past week, hadn't gotten more than an hour of sleep a night (some nights getting no sleep at all) for over a month now... and to make things even better, he couldn't even ask for directions to a nearby city!

Ever since the whole Pariah Dark incident Amity (as in the city spirit of amity park) had decided that staying in one place was "too dangerous", so she'd started moving amity around the US with no apparent rhyme or reason.

Maybe it was because amity was a rather young city spirit, but this didn't achieve anything other than getting the GIW out of amity (they weren't able to reliably track the city location quickly enough to get there before it moved again, and amity has developed a tendency to leave them behind while moving herself, at this rate they would lose their funding before they managed to develop a way to locate amity quickly enough)

All that to say he's currently lost in an unfamiliar forest in the middle of nowhere, barely conscious, just praying to all the ancients (that he hadn't fought) that he could get some food and sleep before anything hostile could find him in this weakened state.

So far he had only heard a few distant animal noises, and there was no way he was attempting to eat something from a forest (he might have grown up eating ecto-infused food, but that didn't mean he had no standards for the food he put in his body! He wasn't going to attempt to eat something from an unfamiliar forest!

Danny hadn't gotten any closer to civilization from what he could tell, and he was running out of energy way too fast. So in a move of rare intelligence, he decided to find a tree with a strong looking branch, fly up to it, and drape himself on the branch for some hopefully undisturbed sleep. He didn't want any big forest animals finding him while he was asleep after all.

- - - - - - - - dipper pov - - - - - - - -

"hey mabel, isn't it weirdly quiet here today?"

Dipper and Mabel had gone into the forest with hopes of easing their boredom (and more importantly, get away from grunkle Stan and Ford's bickering), but so far they hadn't seen even a single red pointy hat peeking out in between the pine branches.

"maybe there's some new creature in the forest today..." he voiced out loud, a small part of him still wanting to prove himself to ford by finding something he had missed in his exploration of gravity falls.

"if it's scaring away all the other creatures, wouldn't it be better to call ford for help?" Mabel replied, worrying they might not be able to deal with it by themselves.

"nah, we can totally deal with this! we survived bill's weirdmageddon, we can definitely survive some weird new creature! have some faith in our strength, Mabel!"

"yeah, you're probably right, there's no use worrying"

[ftmr4pebait1]

I forgot to do my shot again on Friday 😅 should I take it today or have to wait the week out?

[torchbearing]

sometimes the dichotomy of last green lantern kyle telling young and idealistic green lantern corps member hal he can't stop himself from becoming parallax while also telling parallax he can't stop himself from being defeated and none of them can fight the inevitable or else it will doom them worse vs. ion telling spectre that be can change it all just for him and spectre looking at him knowingly hits me again and i am just like.

man, sometimes comics know how to scratch my itch for parallelism

[mariemariemaria]

idk I think if I was in a plot to keep the tories in power by unveiling credible accusations of sexual assault i probably wouldnt wait until the night before the election. and i'd probably also try to discredit somebody who was connected to the higher branches of the labour party in any way. but that's just me

[laura1633]

What I took away from this year’s secret Santa?! When it comes to butts Max is super creative!

[bueris]

my bottomless pit of a stomach must be filled time to stake out the old people's home.

[optiwashere]

I really have to tap the sign on the "write consistently" advice, because I thought I was drowning in ideas that would never reach the page.

Then I wrote some prompt fills and finished a new one-shot for the trans Shadowheart AU.

I wrote some more prompts, and then I opened the ch3 draft for Blades in the Night this morning. I've been chipping away at it here and there.

Now I'm excited to finish my first pass on the zine fic, finally fucking edit the Aylin/Shadowheart/Isobel fic I've been sitting on for months, and I've still got a bunch of prompts I'm excited about!

Writing is good, actually.

[whimsical-westbrook]

@legendsobsessions

[literaila]

hi, i want to start writing stories, and i admire your work, and i have a few questions if you don't mind, have you always been good at writing, do you write something everyday and how did you feel confident enough to start posting your work?

have i always been good at writing? no. absolutely not. i have always written things (evidence: the 1k novel i wrote in third grade about a dolphin adopted by a lobster which lacked quotation marks) if that’s what you’re asking.

writing, like all things, only truly improves with practice (and reading, absorbing information is no joke). sometimes i read things i wrote in the last year and have to sit and question myself for a good hour on exactly what i was thinking. my first work on tumblr was god awful, but i can admire it from afar because it got me where i am.

i personally think i lack the natural affinity for writing because i struggled in school and couldn’t really read until i was 10, but you’ll find your niche and it’ll work out.

do i write something everyday? ummm unfortunately no. i certainly think about writing every day, but typically i write 2-3 times a week during a good writing period. though! i wish i was disciplined enough to write something everyday because if would probably make writing a lot easier and less strenuous for me

(take that with a grain of salt though because i have a terrible attention span and can’t sit still for periods longer than 10 minutes. recently i’ve been writing when we’re slow at work, if that means anything to you)

how did i feel confident enough to start posting my work? simply put, i didn’t. i still don’t most days. writing is an entirely debilitating experience in my opinion and it sucks! i hate it! it makes me feel like walking on a thousand legos!

but if you’re feeling nervous about posting something, i encourage you to just do it. don’t worry about what others will think. when i posted my first story (on here, don’t ask about the eras before) i didn’t really like it, but my readers did. and that made it worth it to keep posting more. if you’ve got an idea that you’re passionate about, go for it! no one’s going to write it like you will.

honestly, i try not to take my writing too seriously (and i do a terrible job, obviously) because it’s supposed to be an escape from all of the terrible things about the world. so i’ll keep pretending it is an escape (wink wink). so, write whatever story you want, and post it on every platform across the earth. someone, like me, will love it.

[allcxmeclose]

starter for @highinfidelty based off of this.

"S'cuse me?" Because he hadn't heard her right. He couldn't have, "Whatever kind of joke you think this is? It isn't. So. Let's try again, yeah?"

[harleyification]

Hey look, I finally got to write some Moon Son!!! I’ve been heavily inspired by Lollipencil to start seriously writing for this AU, and so I decided to start at the beginning…how I think it all began. However, heed the tags, because this starts really dark. This idea has been traveling around in my brain for several months now, a culmination of A. Letting Marc and the others become a fist of Khonshu early, B. Their mother being shitty and abusive like in the show, and C. The comics interpretation of Marc possibly getting DID due to almost getting killed multiple times in his life.

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence (nothing too graphic but there is a lot of blood), attempted murder, attempted maternal filicide, hints of physical and mental abuse. Please be careful reading this, and enjoy.

It’s hard to breathe. His chest hurts, with every staggering breath making his collapsing lungs ache, each one sounding like a death rattle.

Because that’s exactly what it is – a death rattle.

Marc can’t remember how he got here tonight. The memories were blurry amongst the last few minutes, quickly fading away as blood loss settled in. Red pools dragged behind him in a trail as the teen desperately tried to crawl away from the monster behind him, trying to find help. But no one is around, it’s just the two of them, and she’s still looming over him like a predator that has caught their prey. Marc can see her shadow and the knife that she clutches in her hand.

Marc doesn’t look back around. The room is getting dizzy.. He needs to hurry, he– he doesn’t want to die, please– he’s only fifteen, and his life was shitty, and he hates his abusive mom and his neglectful dad who let it continue, but he never thought that she would ever go this far. He never fucking thought that she would ever take it this fucking far.

She’s saying something behind him, but the words hardly register. They sound shocked. There were repetitions of “...my god, my good lord, what have I done…”, but Marc doesn’t turn back around. He doesn’t care anymore. He’s so fucking scared, one hand clutching onto his wounds and the other grasping the wooden floor to slide himself away.

All of a sudden, the chattering from the monster came to an end. There was resolute silence for a mere second, the only sound being Marc’s labored and pained grunts. Then, the sound of shoes walking away, leaving him to die slowly and... alone.

But he doesn’t look back. He fucking can’t.

Not when the doors and the phone and help was so, so far away, and he’s losing himself rapidly.

“Help…” he calls out, but it sounds far away to him. One hand forward, pull his body with it. One hand forward…and pull…reach forward… and…

He’s slipping. He can feel it. It should be scary, but more than anything he is exhausted.

He comes to a rest at the foot of something hard. Gazing up tiredly, his blurry vision makes out the stone mask of some kind of bird-faced humanoid. It was small, miniature, meant to be a decoration for wherever they were. Funny enough, despite its uncanniness, Marc can’t look away. It was better to look at it than at his lonely surroundings, he kind of thinks…

He will close his eyes for a minute. Just for a minute…then he’ll…ask for help…

—

"Hmm… a little young to be a fist. A bit too young, maybe. But it has been centuries, and I require someone, anyone, to take up the role at last. What do you say, child? Would you like to live and get away from the ones who have hurt you most?

….

All I ask in return is that you shall fight in my name and do the bidding of the night. Protect travelers who walk underneath the stars, in every way that you must, no matter the deed. Whenever the shadows demand it, you must heed their calls. Protect the lost ones, as you were once before.

…

Good. Very well. This will be very interesting indeed. Now, sleep child. Your body must heal. I shall guide you to safety."

—

Wary eyes blink open to minimal light in a sea of darkness. He was dizzy, his eyes swimming momentarily as his hand reached up to rub his temples. The teen looks around, eyeing his surroundings with open confusion as everything registers around him.

He was in an alley. A dingy, fucked up one too, as it had trash everywhere and there were mysterious stains on the concrete not too far beside him. The sources of light were coming from street lamps that lit up the asphalt streets and illuminated the boy’s uncomfortable hidey-hole.

He gets up, grunting as his aching limbs protest. “What in the bloody hell…?” he mutters to himself as he cautiously steps out into the open, seeing no one in sight. The streets were empty, the city was silent, and there was no moon or stars to be seen in the smoggy sky.

And just as suddenly, the quiet was destroyed by the sound of distant gunshots. The teen looks towards their direction and makes a mental note to not fucking go anywhere near there anytime soon.

The boy steps further out into the light, and almost screams when he sees the sight of his own bloody hands and clothes. They were fucking caked in red, making the teen look down the front of his shirt to see where it was he was hurt.

But…there was nothing. He pulls up his sleeves, and his skin was still unharmed.

That just makes it worse though. He gulps, shoving his hands into his pockets as if it would hide the crime scene that he practically emits. If the blood isn’t his, and if he can’t remember where it came from…then that just makes things a hell of a lot harder to figure out.

Steven has woken up many times before in weird settings and situations, but waking up has never been like this before.

There was the sound of sirens now, police and ambulance alike. There was the gleam of a needle on the building’s corner that glowed in the streetlight, prompting Steven to walk even faster. There was even the distant resonant sound of hair-raising cackling, as if through a speaker.

“Sheesh. With this commotion, you’d think I’d somehow wound up in Gotham…” Steven grumbles as he hunches himself down lower, trying to be inconspicuous.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, or what’s going on, or what his plan is exactly, but…but there is always one thing Steve knows that he is good at and can rely on.

He can figure things out. He’ll be able to get through this and make his way back home, surviving on the streets if he has to. He’s sure of it.