#without spilling

[somanyfandomsorkinafs]

(I am ~buzzing~ with ideas…. Allow me to release some)

Once Danny was an adult, he decided to join Ellie in her ‘permanent world tour’. It’s better than staying in Amity where the opinion of Phantom hasn’t gotten much better. Besides, the portal caused the veil to get weaker, allow ghost to wreak havoc where ever they want.

He’s met a lot new ghost cause of this too. Old as Mycenaean Greece to non humans who came to Earth and died there. Danny’s learnt so much from them that he’s basically a walking in Encyclopaedia.

So, Danny’s decided “fuck it.” and has it became a part-time history teacher. It’s fun! He knows the details by heart and is able to make it more fun than just droning on about the same old wars and whatever. He enjoys it, the kids enjoy it and the ghosts having their stories told!

Of course, this does cause some problems when people try to correct him. Danny’s argument? “I got them correct sources.”

And when anyone asks him how knows his sources are correct? “My source was there when it happened.”

Cue the dc world thinking that Danny’s just some immortal guy whose decided to use his immortality for good(TM)

[lilyflxwers]

sources: ophelia, act IV, scene V // traci brimhall, dear eros // unknown // suzanne scanlone, promising young women // destiny, fieldplates gauntlets // camille rankine, emergency management // fatima aamer bilal, being unwanted is a language // unknown

[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.

[ultravioletbrit]

“room” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 324 words

Regulus is sitting on the floor reading and James is laying on the couch behind him, his fingers carding through Regulus’ hair. Regulus finishes his book and wants a new one but doesn’t feel like moving yet so he scans his books from where he’s sitting. His eyes make their way up one bookshelf and down another then back and forth across a third shelf. He looks at the books on the end table, on the floor by the armchair and under the coffee table before thinking about the books in the bedroom.

“James?” James hums in response. “I think if we ever get a bigger flat, I want a room for my books.” Regulus tells him.

“You want a library?” James asks.

“No.” Regulus scoffs. “I do not want a ‘library’. I’m not that pretentious. I just want a room filled with nothing but bookshelves where I can meticulously organize my books. And maybe an armchair or two so I can read in there if I want to.” Regulus explains. 

“Love. That’s a library.” James tells him.

“It is not.” Regulus says a bit petulantly.

“Okay, what would you call it then?” James asks and Regulus hesitates.

“It’s… it’s a… a book room.” Regulus fumbles.

“A book room, huh?” James mocks and Regulus whips around to face him.

“Yes!” He hisses. “Regulus’ Super Special Book Room. No Jameses Allowed.” Regulus glares at him.

James is not deterred by Regulus’ glare at all and barely tries to stifle his snickering. Regulus gets off the floor and unceremoniously drops himself on top of James.

“Shut it, Potter. Can I have a library or not?” Regulus continues to glare.

James wraps his arms around Regulus’ waist. “We would absolutely get a flat big enough for your super special book room, love.”

“Good.” Regulus nods once, then snuggles up beside James.

“Can I be allowed in the book room?” James asks shyly.

“We’ll see.”

[kiwiplaetzchen]

Thank you for the tag, Bex 💚😌

"The other day I heard him whispering how he wants to get filled by him like a bottomless butterbeer."

No pressure tags: @theodoradevlin @raenegade-accio @dom1re @theladyofshalott1989 @espressoristretto-patronum

And everyone else who wants to join. 💚

Thank you for the tag @thecreelhouse ily 🥺❤️

last line tag game ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Rule: Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as their are words.

No pressure 🥺❤️

“ It’s not a cult, Eddie.” You sniffed, rolling your eyes, “If it were a cult, I’d have converted you by now. ”

Tagging: @melodymunson @writhingg @nostalgicmermaaiid @dem0batz @jozstankovich @somnambulic-thing @hellfirenacht @theold-ultraviolence @frombeyondthegravez @jo-harrington @sweatyfuntrash @wolfsteax @itsthecherryontop @offensiuncula @gggoldfinch @thefiasco-onyourblock @writinginthetwilight @lexr86 @mothmans-left-buttcheek @rxqueenotd and YOU 🫵🏼

[inkprilled]

I'm going to be honest, I'm not happy. Instead I just am. Just here. Just there. I'm, just. I spent way too long picking the colours for this blog instead of cleaning my house, I spent way too long worrying over my poems instead of worrying over the bills, I spent way too long writing about things that have happened and not about what could. I reply with flowers under comments because I'm worried I'll sound too blunt without them, but sometimes it feels fake, because I'm not that person alone, I don't think in pretty colours, happiness doesn't bloom behind my eyelids in pinks and yellows. Instead my thoughts are blunt and apathy stuffs itself into my ears and covers my eyes. It encases me in a womb, and I'm just waiting to be reborn. Into what exactly I don't know, just more awake I hope, less rotting in bed and more laughing in a field somewhere.

[viarayy01-blog]

you just dont get it

[hhhhunty]

Watch out Law, your sharp edges just softened a little

[christakisbang]

[inkskinned]

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

[languidspaniel]

Romeo is a lesbian and I think she might live this time

Romeo, sixteen

for all the itty-bitty Romeos in my life. may your little rosy-cheeked all-girl school wlw romances flourish like grapes on a vine, however momentary

[owlheartt]

Something I really like about timebomb is that Ekko actually knows what he's getting into.

I'm not really seeing it get talked about but in season 1 they mention that Ekko and the firelights help people addicted to shimmer get off it and lead more fulfilling lives within the community. I should probably rewatch the scene for the exact wording (might be misremembering tbh) but that comment implies A LOT.

First: Ekko's mission is helping people where he can, he would probably try and help Jinx even if he wasn't in love with her

Second: He has experience dealing with severe mental illness as that often goes hand in hand with drug abuse, namely depression/suicidal ideation like what Jinx was exhibiting

Third: He's probably mapped out best course of action FOR dealing with this and has already figured out his own limits/boundaries. Meaning he knew what he was getting into trying to talk Jinx out of suicide, and was thus more equipped to deal with the aftermath

Fourth: He's probably helped ex members of Silco's gang. The firelights seem to have a theme of healing and repairing and recovering, so they've probably also learned to forgive. If they're mission is to rebuild the lanes into a safe space, they can't exclude people they don't like, they have to make room for them. I think they fought Silco out of necessity, and I doubt Jinx would be the first person they help who's killed one of them.

These all might be a bit of a stretch but I think it really fits. Beyond that, it shows that Ekko can ACTUALLY help Jinx. As much as unconditional love can do, Ekko has the tools for Jinx's recovery and a path ready for her. He also probably knows that her "healthy" will look different from AU Powder's "healthy." On top of that, I expect he knows how to respect her even in the middle of psychotic breaks and won't agitate her already frail mental state

[firephoenix23]

Bro the poses the feet kicking this man is such a theater kid I can’t I’m fucking dying 😂😂

[http-tempted]

a drag of my nail against his lips makes him smirk. Am I an open book all of a sudden? I’m crashed against his chest Is it my time to finally rest? He smiles softly as if he’s reading this poetry.

-tempt writes

[authenticity2025]

Without communication, there's no relationship. Without respect, there is no love. Without trust, there is no reason to continue.

[sunsburns]

almost done a fic where the trio crashes your engagement party