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fuuuuck i just realized that the future idealized version of myself cant exist without current me being the catalyst for change and doing hard things. has anybody heard about this

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Hey guys!

I am currently in the process (planning stage) for a horror anthology audio drama!!

Our team is looking to add the role of PRODUCTION MANAGER to our ranks; someone (or co-producers) interested in good work, storytelling, horror, and making something cool!

We’re looking for someone (or co-producers) to manage schedules, budget, team members, cast, understand plot, (possibly provide feedback on the story if that interested you), and just generally be a helping hand to get us off the ground and into a timeline!

The vibes we’re giving;

Stranger things

AHS Roanoke

Gravity Falls/Over The Garden Wall

Magnus Archives

Past experience preferred, please DM me with any questions, and for further details!!

Reblogs appreciated!! Thank you so much!!

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hi! I’ve been working on something but i’m worried there wouldn’t be an audience for it; i know the whole “If you like what you’re working on others will too” but i’m just nervous, sooooo…

would anyone be interested in listening to an audio drama/horror fiction podcast about a small town surrounded by haunted/possessed forests in which people go missing?

Like a Gravity Falls meets Magnus Archives meets Old Gods of Appalachia! Classic “interview/on-tape recording/statements given” thing.

Jack Weaver is NOT a paranormal investigator. He’s just a normal teen, trying to help his detective father solve missing peoples cases in his new town. Realizing there’s more to the woods that surround the town, he starts collecting rules by which to abide when interacting with the terrifying forest.

just wondering if it feels like it would have an audience, just wanted to see what people think :) thank you!

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I also love how audio fiction has always been a highly experimental medium, and likely always will be.

Financially, it has a low barrier for entry, a low point of diminishing returns, and a relatively small potential market. It's basically impervious to being taken over by giant studios - even the "big" networks like RQ would be considered indie in the film or game dev industries. With the exception of the BBC, they tend to dip their toes into audio fiction, figure out quickly that, although it's beloved by its fans, there isn't that kind of money in it, and proceed to leave us alone forever.

Then there's the fact that it propagates largely by word of mouth. Audio dramas owe everything to obsessive nerds forcing nearly everyone they know to listen to that podcast they just discovered.

So it's more about the thing being actually good, plus a decent amount of luck and persistence.

There's no optimally marketable success formula being relentlessly enforced by gatekeeping jellybean-counters because they don't exist here. So people make whatever they want. So it draws people to it who are looking for something different. And the cycle feeds itself, and the medium gets weirder (in a good way).

It may very well ALWAYS remain the wild west of storytelling.

So listeners tell your friends about that podcast!

And creators, make the weird thing! There are no rules! It can be an hour long or Breaker Whiskey short, or Re:Dracula all over the place length. It can be another tape recorder framing or another voicemail framing or basically just an audiobook. It can be any genre or blend of genres. This creative space gives us the opportunity to be our own target audience in a way rarely found elsewhere.

If you enjoy the thing you're making, odds are somone else out there will enjoy it too. I've already found this to be true, and my time as an audio fiction creator is still just beginning.

Peace and love on every planet, y'all!

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I tried to write a novel. Not once. Not twice. But about 12 times. Here's how that would play out: 1. I sit down and knock out 10 pages 2. I share it with someone 3. They say "It's goooood" like it's not good 4. I ask for critical feedback 5. They say, "Well....the plot just moves so quickly. So much happens in the first few pages it doesn't feel natural." So I'd write more drafts. I'd try to stretch out the story. I would add dialogue that I tried to make interesting but thought was boring. I would try including environment and character descriptions that felt unnecessary, (why not just let people imagine what they want?) Anyways, I gave up trying to write because in my mind, I wasn't a fiction writer. Maybe I could write a phonebook or something. But then I made a fiction podcast, and I waited for the same feedback about the fast moving plot, but guess what??? Podcasts aren't novels. The thing that made my novels suck became one of the things that made Desert Skies work. I've received some criticism since the show started, but one thing I don't receive regular complaints about is being overly-descriptive or longwinded. In fact, the opposite. It moves fast enough that it keeps peoples attention. I always felt I had a knack for telling stories but spent years beating myself up because I couldn't put those stories into novel form. The problem wasn't me. The problem was the tool I was trying to use. All that to say: If, in your innermost parts you may know that you're a storyteller but you just can't write a book, don't give up right away. You can always do things to get better and there's a lot of good resources. But if you do that for a while and novel writing just isn't your thing, try making a podcast, or creating a comic, or a poem, or a play, or a tv script. You might know you're an artist but suck at painting. Try making a glass mosaic, or miniatures, or try charcoal portraits, or embroider or collage. You might know you're a singer, but opera just isn't working out. Why not yodel? I could keep listing out examples, but the point is this. Trust your intuitions when it comes to your creative abilities, but don't inhibit yourself by becoming dogmatic about which medium you can use to express that creativity. Don't be afraid to try something new. Don't be afraid to make something new. You might just find the art form that fits the gift you knew you always had, and what it is might surprise you

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And They Won (irondad)

A/N: I haven't written fanfic since i was like 16 (almost 7 years ago!) so consider this me getting back on the bike to see if I can still do it!

Classic Tony lives drabble :3

He’s hated hospitals since he was a kid – since he was told his parents weren’t coming back by a man in a white coat, since he got pneumonia and Aunt May had to run with him in her arms to the ER in all the way in Brooklyn because the Queens one was too full, sinec Ned broke his ankle and had to go into emergency surgery.

Peter sits in the rigid, plastic chair; legs dangling, kicking them back and forth and letting the cheap rubber squeak on the linoleum floors – his lip is bleeding, abused by his teeth, and his hands are shaking, freezing cold in this god-forsaken hallway. 

Tugging the string of his hoodie left, then right, then left again, he waits.

It’s dim, there’s not a lot of lights on in this wing; he supposes they’ll be closing visitor hours down soon, but he has to stay – he has to.

The pale-yellow door to his left – room 1590 – opens gently, and clicking heels come out; he can’t look at her.

“Pete,” Pepper touches his shoulder, crouches down a bit to be at his level. She smells like vanilla and peaches. He likes that perfume she wears – it’s on all the duvets and scarves and clothes in her and Mister Stark’s house. He wondered if that smell had changed. He’s been gone so long. “Peter?”

He finally looks up at her, then. She looks tired. Older. He’s never really seen her in comfortable clothes like this, she’s been staying over at the hospital with Mister Stark since he came out of his 41-hour operation. Even then, she had been lingering; never too far from her husband – always in a waiting room or flashing her important badge to stay as long as she could. Peter wishes he could’ve done that too, just been around, but they’d insisted he stay home until Mister Stark was stable and okay. He hadn’t slept much, though; hadn’t eaten what May had lovingly made him.

He swallows, his stomach heavy with grief, like lead. “Hey, Pepper.”

She has a tiny smile, just ever-so-slight – it took Peter the longest time to figure out when she was actually smiling, as she just has that look about her that seems like she’s always happy – her eyes are glassy. She rubs his bicep gently. Happy comes out behind her, and, wiping away tears, he heads down the hall, towards where May is watching Morgan in the waiting room.

“Wanna come say hi?” She asks gently. The whole place is quiet, dulled – muffled, like a library.

Peter shivers, nods, and slowly gets up. There’s a window into the room behind him, but the blinds are drawn – the light pouring out of the doorway and into the dark hallway is a soft yellow, not the surgical, sterile white like he’d expected.

She goes in first and stands just beyond the doorway, waiting for him to come in. He, hesitantly, crosses the threshold, and – though his brain begs him to look anywhere else – he looks to Mister Stark in the big hospital bed.

Peter sighs a shudder – not at what he’s looking at, no, but how he feels now that he’s finally here, after days of wishing and wanting and overthinking – Mister Stark is there, alive. He’s in a hospital gown, sickly-green colored with neatly-lined dots striping it, and he’s hooked up to a million beeping machines, but he’s there, alive.

He looks like hell. The right side of his face and neck are scarred, pink, and stitched up in a dozen places, and his hair is patchy and missing in a few places, but stark-white where it managed to cling on. His beard is lopsided now, seared off one side of his face to make room for the pink, third-degree burn scars on his chin and down to his covered chest. Peter is a bit glad, then, that they made him wait to see Tony – he’s not sure how his stomach would’ve handled the fresh damage.

Worst of all, though, Mister Stark’s right arm-sleeve is tied up in a tight knot over his shoulder – his left arm is clearly IV’d and strong, running under the blankets at Tony’s side, but his right arm is gone, missing.

Frozen, staring, Peter sniffles – he didn’t even realize he was starting to cry.

Mister Stark looks like he’s sleeping; maybe he is, because Pepper goes and sits in a chair that’s been pulled to his bedside, clearly her spot, and rubs his forearm gently. “Tony? Tony, Peter’s here.”

Tony’s bleary, blurry eyes crack open at that, to check that she’s telling the truth. Maybe, like Peter, he’s played this scenario over in his head a million times. 

“Pete,” The man breathes, voice light, breathy – strained. He tries to move, but Pepper puts a gentle hand on his chest, pushing him back down. “Hey, bud.”

Peter hesitates by the doorframe, but Pepper motions him closer, so he shuffles over – too nervous to steal the wheelie chair by the computer.

“Mister Stark.” He says, his voice thick. “Hey.”

Tony closes his eyes again, lets them slip closed, but manages – weakly – to pull his shaking left hand out of its confines, and place it palm-up on the scratchy, blue hospital blanket. “Hey, bud.”

Hot tears drip down Peter’s face, then, blurry and itchy in his vision, but he takes Mister Stark's hand. “How’re you feeling?”

“Me? Oh, peachy.” Tony smiles softly, as best he can. Each word is an exhale, an effort. “Sorry you couldn’t come see me sooner, kiddo. Wanted to be okay first.”

“Are you?” Peter asks, squeezing Tony’s hand ever-so-gently, just to be sure this is all real. It’s only been about a month since they were on that battlefield, since Thanos was defeated, since… Peter looks at Tony’s missing arm, and Tony offers him a weary smile.

“Battle scars, kiddo. I’ll live.” He hums, a tear running down his weathered cheek. He looks older, too. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“We won, Mister Stark.” Peter sniffles, a smile playing on his lips. “We won.”

“I know, bud.” He says, huffing a soft laugh. “Sorry it took me so long to get you back.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’m sorry I took so long to come back.”

Tony blinks, tiredly. 

“Even Stevens?” He offers.

Peter laughs through his tears – a garbled, wet sound, but he’s just so thankful. “Even Stevens.”

They sit like that for a moment, just in the silence of how real this moment is.

“Listen, kid.” Tony breathes, groaning through gritted teeth as he moves a bit. “I said some things I’m not proud of, before you… Disappeared. I just-”

“It’s okay, Mister Stark.” Peter rubs his weeping eyes. “It’s okay. I forgive you. You’ve had five years to dish out grief about it, but I was only gone for, like, a second; I don’t even need that long to forgive you.”

Tony breathes out a deep breath and squeezes Peter’s hand back weakly. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, Pete.” He says. “Cuz I love you. I know things are different now, or they seem different, but… You’re a good kid. I’ve always known that.”

Tony’s eyes flutter shut at that, and a machine beeps.

“That’s our cue, I’m afraid.” Pepper offers Peter a sorry gaze. “The staff gets mad if we stay past ten.”

She stands, kisses her husband's cheek softly, and touches his hair with her gentle fingers. Peter sniffles, unable to let go of Tony’s hand.

“I’ll be here, Peter, I promise.” Tony huffs, squeezing the kid's hand one last time before Pepper guides him away. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

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OH YEAH, I'M BACK BABY!

Hey there. Do you like Spider-Man? Oh my god, so do I!

What a small world.

I mostly post my fanfic on Ao3 but I'm unsure if I should upload her here as well? Or just the link? Idk, let me know what you guys think (if there's anyone out there).

I feel like people are more inclined to interact with a work when there is less of a barrier, and Ao3 can feel a bit isolating sometimes :<

Anyway, this is my fic, it's called You Build Me Up, You Break Me Down, Believer and it's about Hydra!Peter Parker being found by SHEILD :) Also, Iron Man is there.

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be free!!

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League of Legends cinematic backgrounds by Daniel Clarke

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Furby Tutorial Masterpost

If you want anything deleted, added, or fixed let me know and I’ll be more than willing to do so! If you use any of the tumblr tutorials, or find them helpful, please consider reblogging them from the source!  Good luck with your furbs :))

Last Update: 06-Apr-25

Keep reading

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Headshot

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…. Do you hear that? It sounds like my wallet sobbing,,

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The beautiful and patient Princess Quasi Star is almost complete! Just need to add in the eye chips and some more jewelry but we’re both feeling so pleased. Their little princess hat and skirt make me especially happy

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Long furbies that will go to the adopts >_<

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Taking some time to appreciate the lovely weather

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Furby Tutorial Masterpost

If you want anything deleted, added, or fixed let me know and I’ll be more than willing to do so! If you use any of the tumblr tutorials, or find them helpful, please consider reblogging them from the source!  Good luck with your furbs :))

Last Update: 06-Apr-25

Keep reading