#writing process rambling

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Some exercises to get to know an oc!

(I’ve designed this list so that it requires no art or proper writing at all, it can mostly be done by doing picrews, describing and answering questions. )

1. Your oc as a playable video game character, (special abilities and stats). Bonus: write dialogue or one-liners.

2. If they played Dungeons and Dragons, what would their character be like?

3. Evil version of them

4. contents of their bag/ items they always carry around.

5. Average shopping list

6. various outfits for scenes or occasions

7. character’s wedding dress (yes, put that man in a dress.), or any other fancy outfit they would have

8. Graphic design: advertisement for their (perhaps nonexistent and/or illegitimate) business, wedding invite card, cult pamphlet,etc

9. Your oc is on the news for something they did. What did they do‼️

10. Mess around with the incorrect quotes/ headcanon generator

11. Take “what x are you” quizzes as them

12. what crimes are they most likely to get caught for? And what crimes are they most likely to get away with?

13. Describe or show how they would take notes for their studies, research, job, etc. this is better than a diary page, because it doesn’t demand you to get into character so much. Also less awkward.

14. A little known skill they have

15. Your oc watches Transformers. Which version of Megatron would be their favorite? Go on look all of them up right now and decide which one they would vibe with the most.

16. Need to prepare a really quick breakfast/lunch/dinner. What do they go with?

Feel free to send me asks with these and optionally the name of one of my ocs, and I will answer them.

OR you can give me a canon character and I’ll answer in a way I think would be accurate to them.

I hope other people can have fun with this as well. Feel free to repost!

[char-writes]

Daydreaming about my book:

Writing my book:

[bluerosefox]

One-Sided

So uhhh

I was thinking of more Dead Serious prompts but my mind went wondering and came up with something else.

What if Danny is dating Respawn!

So this is like a one-sided Dead Serious idea with Danny already dating Respawn (idk their pairing name sorry)

So, now hear me out, what if Danny or rather Phantom joins the Titans or maybe as a young adult joins the JL.

And what if he does his best to avoid being around Robin unless it's for actual missions. Now Robin, Damian, didn't mind this at first in fact he approved of it cause you know it's Damian. But like a cat being ignored he gets curious as to why and starts trying to seek Danny out to find out.

But again Danny is doing his best to avoid the other hero.

Damian eventually gets a crush on Danny after watching Danny go eldritch/ghost king mode and is trying to figure out a way to woo the half ghost.

HOWEVER Danny is in a relationship already, a good one too, with Damian's kinda clone/half brother Respawn. He hasn't told any of them because he knows the bad blood between him and the others. And add the fact Respawn still does mercenary work and Danny doesn't mind but knows those in the Titans or JL do, he doesn't tell any of the heroes whose he's dating.

Danny is keeping his distance cause he knows his boyfriend gets jealous and clingy whenever he comes back from meetings that Robin is in.

[aestknowsbest]

It was apparently a running joke that Bernard gets his romantic advances and flirtations from media, what with the whole B necklace given to Tim. And I was thinking that romance novels and movies/shows were probably the only actual portrayals of romance that he was exposed to because his parents weren't exactly lovey dovey and quite frankly they seem like they don't want to be together at all.

This is something that I personally experience actually, so maybe it's a little bit of projection speaking here. But either way I wanted to think about Bernard seeing things in a romantic subtext in full for the first time and it jumpstarting him reading romance novel after romance novel to get a glimpse of what love is supposed to be, how others see it and show it. So now he has a very.... special way of communicating his adoration for people. Like the freak he is (the theatre electives didn't help any either, I'm sure.)

Bernard: "Do you ever think about how the curve of your neck and the dip of your collar bone is moulded perfectly for the sole intent of cradling the head of another?"

Tim: "Is this your way of asking for cuddles?"

Bernard, already making grabbing hands: "Absolutely. Come here."

--

Bernard: "How completely and utterly tragic it is that in life, death is a guarantee but love isn't."

Tim: "Sunbear, we are not taking that rabies-infested raccoon you found in a dumpster behind the bar home to my houseboat and your apartment doesn't allow animals. It was frothing at the mouth, Bernard."

Bernard: "My heart is broken, I will never love again. I bared my pried open ribs to you only to have it clawed at by your very hands."

Tim:

Bernard: (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠)

Tim:

Tim: "... I'll look into domesticated options for you. It can run around the docks and you can train it to chase your dad."

Bernard: "So this is the warmth through the trees in the deepest darkest depths of winter that poets spoke of. To be known so intimately and cherished so dearly! I could faint."

Tim, rolling his eyes fondly: "If you do, I won't catch you."

Bernard: "Nevermind fuck you actually."

Tim: "I love you too "

--

Bernard, laying upside down on a sofa with Tim sitting on the floor next to his head and reading: "If cannibalism is synonymous with wanting everything of your lover to the point of consumption, the greed of taking in all they have to offer in willingness or not- even flesh and blood and scraps–"

Tim, typing away on his laptop: "Morbidly curious on where this is going."

Bernard: "Shh, let me finish! I was just wondering how you would taste. What would you prefer to be seasoned with? I'd personally like to be flavoured with honey-glaze, or maybe lemon pepper? Garlic?"

Tim: "Well since humans taste like swine, I supposed there'd need to be a complementary flavour profile. You'd be sweet, and I'd be something distinctly Umami, so I'd settle for smoked or roasted? With paprika."

Bernard: "I love you so much."

--

Bernard, spoken off-handedly while grocery shopping: "If ever you were to die, I'd harden your heart into stone with calcium and keep it in a case so that I carry you with me always."

Tim, staring longingly at a 30pk case of Monster: "And where is this coming from?"

Bernard: "My mom once read me Mary Shelly's biography as a bedtime story over the course of a week. She carried her husband's heart in her purse after his passing when he drowned in the ocean and his heart didn't turn to ash after his cremation so she snatched it out."

Tim: "Beatrice, frankly, scares me. And I love you too, darling."

--

Bernard, lying in bed next to Tim and staring at him:

Tim, sighing and rolling over to face him: "Honeybear?"

Bernard, fidgeting with a pillow: "Being near you is like being in a vacuum."

Tim: "That's a new one. Do you want to elaborate?"

Bernard: "It feels like I'm drowning in everything and nothing and like my chest is caving in. It makes me feel heavy and light, it feels like a contradiction. Loving you hurts in a way I'm not used to hurting. It doesn't feel like sacrifice. It makes me feel safe. I don't know if I'm saying this right, it's hard to articulate."

Tim, pulling Bernard close and pressing his nose into his hair: "I know, I understand, Bear. Intrinsically. I love you too."

[bignose-clangen]

Ok I have plans on changing a few names for roles in the clans and also changing up what they do a bit ... but I'm having a hard time deciding on names for the roles so I wanted your opinions/ideas!

The roles that are not changing are:

Leader, Warrior, Apprentice, Elder

The roles I am changing are:

Deputy? I kinda want to change the name to 'Second' but I could just stick with tho og, so I'd like to know which yall like better!

Medicine Cat: i always change the name for this one, I'm thinking about 'Doctor' this time though I could just stick with my go to of healer.

Queen: im making Queens the caretakers of the clan, they help raise kits but also act as the clan therapist and caretaker for all, making sure everyone is happy and healthy! I was thinking of changing the name 'Nurse' to go with 'Doctor' however that might not be fitting? So I could go with Caretaker? But that doesn't role off the tongue as well :/

Mediator: the Mediator role has been merged with the queen role basically, and I am replacing Mediators with what I am currently calling 'scholars'. Cats who dedicate themselves to learning as much as they can about clan history and the natural world (ex: types of plants, animals, etc.) And sharing this knowledge with the clan (especially the youth). Id love ideas for names for this role! Do yall like scholar or should I do something else??

Quite literally this is the only thing I am undecided on... I have the wonderful first chapter planned out I just need to decide the role names lol

[k3n-dyll]

As a southerner whose family has a farm, I really do love to see how y'all have managed to romanticize southern farm life😭

All feeding the animals, fucking the buff butch farmhand in haybales and wearing cute overalls - none of the stench animal shit and pit sweat, none of the sweltering, humid weather, none of the confusion as to whether whats covering your jeans is in fact pig shit or mud, or having to watch the ground when you walk in fear of snakes/fire ant hills. Like slay mama, romanticize that old farm out in the sticks💅🏾

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[jojo-schmo]

Estas son las mañanitas

Que cantaba el rey David

Hoy, por ser tu cumpleaños

Te las cantamos aquí

Despierta, Jossie, despierta

Mira que ya amaneció

Ya los pajaritos cantan

La luna ya se metió~

🎶🎶🎶

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Some exercises to get to know an oc!

PART TWO!!!!!

1. “dad lore” they’ll off handedly mention once at breakfast and never elaborate on

2. Speech patterns (accents, overused words or phrases, etc)

3. Halloween: low, mid, high effort costumes

4. Your badassest voice lines for the character

5. If they were a cereal, what would they taste like? Describe the packaging while you’re at it.

6. This one’s a little more inconvenient. Take the nearest book, open a random page and look until a line catches your eye that reminds you of them in the slightest. Elaborate. Or not, I’m not a cop.

7. BOOM, they’re in a video game now. And there’s a quest (or several) related to them. What are they called?

8. Something you’re convinced they could speedrun (Doesn’t have to be a game, could just be laundry!)

9. Being sick. How do they handle it? Does anyone help them?

10. Catchphrase/voice line from another piece of media that reminds you of them!

11. Your oc is a prime now. It doesn’t matter if they’re not from Transformers, look it up. They’re a prime, give them a name and tell me about them. Tag me (lockmart unofficial) if you answer this one, I wanna know too. (In fact, tag me in any of your answers if you’d like. I’m interested!!)

12. What would be a GREAT gift for them?

13. Song that would play during their first introduction to the audience.

14. Please make memes that only you know the lore context for.

15. Out of context text messages from them

16. Bumper stickers.

Again, send me asks regarding oc’s OR characters from other media.

Feel free to spam, and feel free to repost! Have fun!

[basket-of-radiants]

[nibbelraz]

My very first and last complete fanfiction was smut. My parents found it and were going to read it out loud to me, and when I had to show it to them I deleted it and said I lost it.

Anyways imagine this scenario with Qijiu and their son Shen Yuan

[qwordavoider]

Would it be out of character to make Tommy get angry at Buck when they first get in touch after the lab/funeral?

This came to me while I was working on my 122 transfer fic, and I kinda want to go this direction. Like the complete opposite of most of the coda and fix-it fics I have seen about Buck and Tommy between the lab and the end of the season.

My idea goes something like this. Neither of them has reached out at all, except maybe Tommy trying to talk to Buck at the funeral, but Buck blows him off. Instead of asking to stay with Tommy while Buck tries to find a place to live (which I also love, don't get me wrong), he asks Ravi for something at one of his properties.

When they do reconnect, Buck reaches out or maybe goes to Tommy's house and admits he transferred to another station and that he's been missing Bobby, and that now that he's had time to process the accident, he realizes life is too short to not ask Tommy to try again. And then maybe Tommy just shuts down or pushes back because he feels hurt that it's only now that Buck is reaching out.

From his side, Tommy is also grieving Bobby, but he didn't feel like he could talk to anyone about it. He didn't want to burden Buck and figured he wouldn't want to hear from his ex-boyfriend while grieving his dad, essentially. And he especially couldn't talk to the 118 since he wasn't there for nearly as long as everyone else, so he doesn't feel like he has the right to grieve Bobby with them. Or close enough to feel like he can lean on them. So instead, he shuts down, and a part of him was also secretly hoping that Buck would reach out and need him. Or at the very least, thank him after he stole another helicopter for Buck. But being blown off at the funeral was the final straw.

Then Buck is caught off guard by his reaction, and maybe shouts some things back. But more than that, he also feels heartbroken because yet another person has turned their back on him. So he leaves, and maybe during his next shift, Sal notices how off he is and asks about it (Buck doesn't know that Sal and Tommy are still close and have kept in touch), and so Buck spills everything that happened. Normally, he would talk to Bobby about this, but his new captain is the next best choice.

Then maybe queue some Sal advice (or maybe meddling depending on how it works out) and having them have to actually talk through their shit. Like I love Tommy being so damn understanding because I am a sucker for the comfort he brings Buck, but also I feel like he's allowed to be hurt too. Especially if they haven't interacted at all outside of what we have seen on screen.

[doubletroubletag]

i got almost all the next month's updates sketched! i'm not doing the last one simply because i am feeling the burn out of composing these pages. (each have at least 6 pages, a good amount have the max 12!)

that said, these are all just sketched. i want to do it in this order: backgrounds -> lineart -> transcript. i got other projects i need to work on (winning hat and NightFell) so I can't really guarantee when Tag will start to update again.

[definitelynotshouting]

Through the Looking Glass, Darkly

Summary:

“... Alright!” Impulse’s voice echoes over itself in a multi-layered choir, bouncing off half-ragged walls and burrowing in amongst the sculk. “Well, she could definitely use a bit of an updo, but… yeah! Here it is!” At the center of Forgery's former lair, ravenous fingers have already punched their way into stone, scrawling up the vaulted walls in strange, fungal swoops—letters without language, glyphs without meaning. Hemmed in by something akin to thick, yellow limestone, the malignant mixture in the cistern below them undulates in time with every echo—and when Gem peers into it, locks her gaze with that yearning abyss, her skin begins to crawl. Impulse had called it the Catalyst. Gem calls it for what it really is: Hungry.

[ START | PREVIOUS | NEXT ]

[ MERCH ] [ MISC ]

Hey gang!! Today's posting day for my solo piece for @hotguycomiczine, so here it is!! I hope you guys enjoy it, ive worked super hard not just on the fic but also on the formatting and picture that ive made to go along with it!!! 💀💀💀💀 yeah i uh. i edited and then drew over that to make it look like sculk. yeah i did that all on my phone last night. you can imagine how bad my neck hurts right now

as always, reblogs are deeply appreciated, and comments on ao3 or in the tags will earn you my undying gratitude and also this free sculk sample over here shhhh dont question it just take it<3 i hope you guys like the new formatting style im trying out, and of course the fic itself!! enjoy!!! :DD

[boywithantlersao3]

What do you think of a sugar daddy au where Gi-hun gets famous and rich around the same time when Sang-woo is at university. He pays off Sang-woo's debt and buys him gifts. He thinks he's being a good friend while Sang-woo is freaking out that his hyung is trying to tell him something that he's not ready to hear yet.

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Much like humans generating their bodily fluids and oils on their own, I headcanon cybertronians do not require external lubricants for their moving parts. Their bodies will generate all the grease and oil and other things they require. They can still choose to use these though. The way humans would use lotion on their dry skin. Also polish. Gotta keep themselves shiny. (This one’s for you, Knock Out)