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I feel like some of you guys think "bad art" is like someone gluing rhinestones to a water melon, or a guy who made his own armchair out of Ohio license plates, or a trashy romance novel where someone says "the blue-eyed one kissed the brown-eyed one," when in reality bad art is a 1000000 Billion Dollar movie where none of the workers got paid and every single creative decision was market tested to see how lucrative of a profit it could foreseeably make to wow shareholders.

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would ronan get a tattoo for adam and what do you think it’d be off excluding a tramp stamp lol or a boring quote

“excluding a tramp stamp” do you hate me and want me to die? cus if you do then just say that

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Sometimes family is a tired businessman, a punk catholic farmer and his magician boyfriend, a teenager with no internal organs, and two badass women who are legally the same person

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On a fateful day in sixth year, Harry follows Ron and Hermione into the hazy, vapour-filled dungeons for their class with Slughorn. Breathing in woody, floral fumes, he opens up an old annotated copy of Advanced Potion-Making for the first time.

That year, he kisses Ginny Weasley for the first time, too.

He also slices Draco Malfoy open in a bathroom.

Ten years later, he finishes up at his desk on a Friday evening, chucks the latest case notes into his bag, and wanders down to the D.M.L.E. potion lab. Technically, at this hour, there should be no-one here, but he's not surprised to find a pale blonde head bent over a row of steaming cauldrons.

"Shouldn't you be home by now?" He drops his bag on the floor, hoisting himself up onto the benchtop.

"Funny." Malfoy doesn't take his eyes off his task, peering at the dark, pearly liquid. It looks vaguely familiar. “Shouldn’t you?”

"Not like it matters," Harry says, gaze catching on the damp curls at Malfoy's nape. "Nothing to go home to except more case notes."

"Oh, the life of the Chosen One. Scintillating as ever." Malfoy stirs the middle potion clockwise, then counter-clockwise. "I'll be sure to write to the Prophet tomorrow, first thing."

Harry snorts, and Malfoy grins, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He begins stirring the potion closest to Harry, counting under his breath. Spirals of steam twist languidly in the air as a comfortable silence settles in. Harry breathes in deep, slow, recognising the warm, clean scent of Malfoy’s cologne. He’s sure he could pick out Malfoy blindfolded now, after five years of working together in close quarters.

"I should go home and use my own lab," Malfoy murmurs, brushing his hair out of his face again. "The temperature control charms here are shit. I'm sweating my fucking balls off right now."

Harry can't be blamed for what he says next; he's trying very hard not to think about Malfoy's balls.

"Well, you smell nice, at least."

Malfoy looks at him sharply, a strange look on his face. "What?"

Harry feels a heat creep up his neck that has nothing to do with humidity. "Er, your cologne. It's nice."

Malfoy carefully places the ladle down on the benchtop. "I'm not wearing cologne today."

"Oh." Harry breathes in, helplessly, wishing he would shut up even as he keeps talking. "It smells like your cologne in here." Too late, he remembers where he recognises the pearly sheen of the potion from. Sixth year. Slughorn. "Ohhhh, shit. Is that—"

"Amortentia," Malfoy breathes, crowding in between Harry's knees, and then—he's kissing Harry, kissing him hard, tugging at his hair, shoving a hand up his t-shirt. Shock, hunger, hot and electric, shoot up Harry's entire body and he pulls Malfoy hard against him, desperate. Malfoy's tongue is in his mouth. Harry wants to climb inside him.

Finally Malfoy pulls back, breathing hard. "It smells like me? Really?"

"Yes," Harry groans, chasing after him. "Yeah, this whole fucking—" Harry gasps, clutching Malfoy closer as he sucks at the skin below Harry's ear, "—room smells like you. Oh God. Fuck, fuck, don't stop—"

Draco doesn't.

Floral 🌸 Day 6 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s unofficial microfic may challenge

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he loves his younger brothers so deeply he can't function without them. his entire sense of self is predicated on service to his family. he is everyone's least favorite family member. he hates his brothers. he needs to be needed by them because he's never felt wanted. he has the shape of Matthew's forehead and the texture of his curls memorized. goodbye to whatever Declan Lynch would have grown up to be. his mother isn't real and maybe that's why he doesn't love her like he should. keeps an attic full of paintings that make him feel things tucked out of sight where no one can ever see him do it. he drives a 4 hour round trip every sunday to worship a god he no longer believes in because it's the only time Ronan concedes to spend with him. he dates three girls all with the same name and knocks his mother's wedding ring down the garbage disposal. he is a perpetual motion machine, never alone but always lonely. coffee and antacids and sleeping pills so he won't dream. he misses his father so much it hurts. he curses his father's name with every breath. trained so thoroughly to lie that telling even innocuous truths feels like giving something away. "fuck, do not fall in love with this girl." he's his father's only natural-born child. his father doesn't remember his birth. he was the first to love Ronan and so Ronan lived. off the rack suits and italian leather shoes. he wakes up every day wishing he didn't have to. goes to work, goes to school, takes Matthew to organ practice. his mother isn't his mother but his mother left him behind so maybe that's for the best. he gets beaten bloody by the hitman that killed their father and neither of his brothers pick up the phone when he calls to make sure they're alive. he still drives 4 hours to share a pew with them.

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“I feel like I’ve forgotten something,” Ron says, patting his waistcoat down distractedly.

“It better not be the bloody ring,” Harry grits out, teeth clenched with anxiety, nerves coursing through him like electric currents as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Nah, mate,” Ron grins. “Don’t you fret.”

Harry gives a choked laugh. “Me? Never been calmer.”

“Picture of serenity,” Ron agrees.

“Exactly.” Harry takes some deep breaths, shaking out his hands. “Oh god. Why isn’t he here yet? I just want this to be done.”

“Wow. Romantic.”

“It is romantic,” Harry insists. “I want us to be married now. Or fucking yesterday.”

“Language!” Hermione whispers from the front row behind them, but she’s beaming and already crying a little, hands over Hugo’s little ears. Harry grins back, feeling so painfully excited. He’s a little worried he’s going to throw up from it. The thought of it makes him laugh, imagining Draco’s face if Harry was sick all over his custom-made white robes, spun from fucking unicorn hair or mermaid silk or whatever. God.

And then a hush falls over the crowd, and there he is, looking so fucking beautiful as he strides down the aisle, robes billowing behind him, sun gleaming in his hair, eyes fixed firmly on Harry. Jesus fuck. Harry's crying now too. He can't look away. Draco is a vision, glowing, his haughty, pointy, beloved face softened with something that looks like awe, disbelief. Harry can relate.

"Hey," he chokes out, when Draco reaches him.

"Hello," Draco murmurs, his mouth pulling into a grin. "My god, Harry, control yourself."

"I can't," Harry sobs. "Ugh. Fuck. I love you."

"We're not at that part yet," Draco reminds him, gripping his hands tight, radiant.

Ron puts a hand on Harry's shoulder, passing him a handkerchief. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Harry beams, wiping his eyes and looking back to Draco. "Are you?"

And Draco, grey eyes bright, nods.

Forgotten 💍 Day 11 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s prompts. Full collection on ao3.

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Ronan Lynch would blow up an AI data center.

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please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

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He was making a plan. It was high stakes and it was dangerous and Jordan was right: He liked it. He liked all of it.

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btw I have seen graphic novel Declan and my take vis a vis appearance is that that man obviously does not let his curls out until after graduation. he was working too hard at being boring in Henrietta to have a curl routine. honestly he may not even get to it until he starts spending time with Jordan.

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The fact that this is just a night horror

Ronan's tattoo. 💕

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horse girl ronan lynch. do you see my vision

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🥺

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i wanna bring back Rake as an insult but like. boys arent conniving enough these days. if you're wearing basketball shorts you're not a rake you're just a fuckboy. rake is just another type of guy i've only seen butches be

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the dream thieves is the most perfect book ever because adam and gansey are going through a divorce, blue is breaking up with adam, ronan lets go of his crush on gansey in favor of perusing his para-religious devotion to adam full time, kavinsky is obsessed with having a threesome with gansey and ronan and sends gansey a dick pic from ronan’s phone, gansey starts dating blue behind adam's back the second they're freshly divorced and adam and blue have broken up, ronan turns kavinsky down and as a reaction to that kavinsky kidnaps ronans brother and then kills himself in front of their whole group. everyone is completely unfazed by this except for gansey who seems to care a little bit which adam thinks is cute. it's also in this book that the hitman who killed ronan’s dad starts hitting on blue’s mom. sound off in the comments if you know of any other ya books similar to this