#I am honored!!! hehe

[meownotgood]

hii!! this is my first time ever sending an ask to someone after years of being on tumblr and im literally just here to say that i loveloveloveLOVE your writing!! the amount of times i've reread your fics abt aki is countless and your love for him is so endearing, plus your random little posts (esp your tags theyre so funny) make me giddy and laugh bc!!! i too feel the same abt aki and seeing your excitement and love for him is so cute!! im always looking forward to your posts - fics or not 🥰 tysm for what u do and i hope u have a great day (life)!!! 💗💓💕

aaaaaahhhhhhhhh thank you thank you thank you... 🥺💖 that makes me so happy to hear! thank you for enjoying my writing and my blog, I appreciate you... it makes me really happy to be able to talk about aki and love him with everyone because of how much he means to me... I truly hope you will continue to enjoy my fics and my blog 🙏💞💞💞💞

[brookesmartt]

“I have so many flowers to bring to her”

[betaminshitto]

I followed through and finished the Buggy drag look (heavily inspired by your art). It was a huge success at tonight's show, so have a backstage pic

OOOHHHH WOWEE I LOVE THIS 😭💙💙💙 oh your make up looks amazing and your choice of materials is so good! I'm so happy you were inspired by my buggy drawings!! Thank you for showing me 🥹❤️

[thedeadthree]

THE SUN ON YOUR FACE ON YOUR SHOULDERS ITS GOLDEN MOUTH WHISPERING (SO IT SEEMS) YOU! YOU! YOU! — 𝐂𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑. 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟. (x)

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ask to be added or removed or interact 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!): @griffin-wood, @queennymeria, @nightbloodbix, @anoras, @leviiackrman, @aezyrraeshh, @marivenah, @risingsh0t, @avallachs, @full---ofstarlight, @unholymilf, @statichvm, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @alltoowelltv, @lavampira, @adelaidedrubman, @grapecaseschoices, @shellibisshe, @carlosoliveiraa, @carrionsflower, @cloudofbutterflies92, @kyber-infinitygems, @pinkfey, @celticwoman, @florbelles, @shadowglens, @yharnams

[hroohraaa]

Hello doc!!!

Howdy how m8?

Ah- How did you get in here...? Am I seeing things again?

Well. Hello, there. "Mate." I'm doing alright. Finished work, so now I'm free to return to my...hobbies. Who might you be, then?

[messenger-of-stupidity]

someone. 

please.

give.

guy.

a.

poptart.

[queer-ragnelle]

Say what you will about Starz Camelot but no one can deny Arthur and Kay slayed at the wedding.

[drones-of-innocence]

Imagining one of Mario's primary love languages being physical touch...And the terrible tragedy that is the class difference between he and Princess Peach that makes him feel absolutely mortified to approach her first 😖

And also just his manners. He's a gentleman. The last thing he wants to do is make anyone uncomfortable, so he would never dream of approaching a whole entire Princess, thinking his presence is an inconvenience compared to her sheer radiance.

And who is he to ask her for something as silly as a hug? He feels embarrassed and tries to stuff it down, kind of putting on a tough front. But Luigi knows, Luigi hugs him all the time. Think of all the enemies that he has to go through, the man doesn't get a ton of physical contact that isn't violent.

But if Peach found out (say, Luigi gives it away), imagine that she tactfully begins to approach him more often. Grasping his hand, Hugs, kisses as a reward upon rescue 😌 I already see her as a physically affectionate person as it is, but especially if she developed feelings for him, imagine her ramping it up just for him, knowing it helps him feel loved 🥺 Imagine her gradually making him feel brave enough to approach her first when he needs love?

[selfinserttothestars]

Was not gonna share another one but you know what

Boom

OOOOOOOOOOOHHH THEMS

I AM ON ALL LEVELS BUT PHYSICAL

[eggwishing]

hi!! I'm elusive from the Homestuck Daily team (a Homestuck news & showcase site), we're doing a fanart showcase today/sunday (we're a bit short on time this week hah) to show cool art people did this week, can we feature this artwork you did?

you'll be fully credited of course, with the link on your artwork leading back to your post here (or on a different site if you want) and the link below it redirecting people on your preferred social platform (or a linktree)

thank you for your time! u-u -elusive

Oh woah ??? !!!!!!!! absolutely Hell yes!!

[otwdfanfic]

For the httyd questions!! 1, 6 and 9 maybe?

1: The first movie is what got me, but I didn't actually watch it until almost a year after release! I collected the mcdonalds toys (and pretended to be Toothless in my backyard?) but my parents would not splurge for me to see it in theaters so I had to wait and watch a copy online haha. To this day I will never forget the feeling I had watching Hiccup fall into the fire with Toothless diving after him for the first time. It was such an 'oh shit' moment of recognizing that I had never seen something that powerful? meaningful? important? in a movie before. I was very impressed that the studio had told a story catering to my interests and feelings. I guess that was the exact moment that started it all haha

6: So aside from my #1 hiccstrid which is probably the most common ship, of the canonish options I really loved when Ruffnut was pining after Eret in the second movie and I think they really compliment each other, since he's so level headed compared to her zaniness but also is a pretty loud boastful guy! And it would be funny if he got not only accidentally adopted into a new tribe but also accidentally adopted as a fiance at the same time haha. He'd be so confused but end up falling for her despite himself.

I can't see Ruff with the other boys, who had plenty of chances to woo her in RTTE and the second movie but were never right for her. Plus then they're free for fishlout <3 which is the real standout ship from RTTE for me. It does so much for both of their character development even with the canon crumbs we get. And if rufflegs has to be canon, then Snotlout should absolutely end up with Eret! His one-sided rivalry in THW screams "crush I don't know how to deal with"

A very unlikely ship of mine is Eret and Heather. I feel like they could go sooo well together, I've even considered going that route in my modern au but I think I'll probably stick to my rufferet roots? I guess I just keep shipping everyone with Eret, huh? I once had a dream that I was dating Kit Harington, maybe that's got something to do with it

9: Hiccup, always. I'm always aspiring to be Astrid, but really I'm not very much like her at all. As a kid I really related to him in the first movie due to his rocky relationship with a parent and his whole not fitting in thing. Now I really, really relate to him as an adult in the second and third movie. I don't want to get too deep, but like him the loss of that same parent was my cue to step up into new adult responsibilities, and I haven't really managed it. So I feel like I'm letting down my family if I continue to flounder, but also letting myself down if I settle into the role they want rather than running away on my own to find my own life. It feels very similar to his struggle between the tribe and the dragons. Fortunately I'm not really the chief of my family, so fingers crossed I'm able to get back on my feet soon and head out the door 🤞 I want the dragon life

Thanks for asking! I did sort of yap haha but when do I not

[daydadahlias]

what are you getting us for ashton’s birthday

some respect for fanfic authors as people will be first on the list <3

[send-me-a-puffalope]

i was awake at three am last night but i was super delusional and sleep-deprived and i was thinking of your lizzie and nessa au and i thought “what if in this au there was also an evan and he died and william adopted gregory to replace him the same way he adopted vanessa to replace elizabeth so these two kids are forced to be these kids they never knew with a father who they love but hate at the same time and gregory dies and possesses golden freddy with evan and then yk there’s papillomatosis” and i convinced my self you wrote the fic that way so when i read it in the morning i was like where’s gregory 😭 and then i used my brain for two seconds 💀💀💀

Why is this kind of inspiring tho FTYGUHIJ not one for one but like. The thought of having false memories of someone that never existed? Maybe in a different AU (with no Elizabeth dying and Vanessa getting adopted), Vanessa looking back on her past, which she believes to be more or less normal, with her father and her little brother Gregory. But as she realizes that William was not as perfect of a father as she remembered, she digs more into her past and is hit with the finding that: she can't find any trace of Gregory's existance. This boy that she had so many fond memories of and watched grow up didn't exist and she was the only one who remembered him at all (is this inspired a bit by my relationship with my dreams? absofruitly)

And perhaps there could be something similar to the Silver Eyes books where Vanessa finds out that her entire memory of her childhood was a complete fabrication. None of it actually existed. The normal, happy childhood she remembered was not like that at all. Gregory was not her younger brother but rather a victim of William's that she witnessed die- who she ends up finding possessing the Golden Freddy suit. That's all I've thought of, the plot factory in my brain is working on limited fuel choo choo, your dream brain was kinda onto smth.

[thedeadthree]

IRYNA PASTERNAK — the last of us.

(SLOW HEAVY METAL MUSIC PLAYING)

@jendoe asked: 🌞 + IRYNA

[frenchfrywrites]

I usually don’t like Leona at all but the fic sooooo good, I’ve reread it like 5 times and just because of how you wrote it he’s starting to grow on me-

Ahhhh!!!! I'm so honored!!!! I'm really glad you like it, and that you like how I wrote him 😚💖💖💖

[dxppercxdxver]

hello hello! in preparation for the opening of @tf2shipswag's oc bracket For Real i have written a vaguely persons-of-the-tale-esque bit of propaganda fiction in which our unwitting ocs experience a historical anachronism and discover they have been entered into the oc bracket! if you like early enemies to lovers and a tasteful dose of meta fiction (along with aggressively 18th century styled prose) you'll probably like this! i call it "there's such a thing as an author" or "persons of the tale But Worse"

Somewhere just to the left of the story well known, Samuel Mundy sat perched in the bay window, long legs stretched across the whorled-grain boards with languid content. Liquid summersong pooled in his lap with all the warmth of a loyal cat, golden and simple. The glass panes were thrown open to let in the comfort of the season—what little could be snatched from the jagged-toothed forest filled with the crack of gunfire, anyway—and he clutched a chipped china saucer in his fingers, picking at a fresh bread roll.

Gazing across the Manor’s ill-tended garden, Samuel sighed nearly dreamily, a reflexive smile playing across his cracked lips. For once, his little world was quiet, nary a disturbance to be found.

Of course, however, his peace was not destined to last, and Miss Pauling’s far off cry of, “Mail, boys!” roused the rabble from deep within the house’s corridors, who all came a-bustling with the energy of an anthill, and idle chatter filled the air, quickly snuffing the silence. Samuel, pointedly ensconced in his window-borne nest, merely watched his compatriots greet their friend and sponsor on the lawn as she distributed the sheaves of parchment and carefully tied packages amongst them. They were permitted some personal effects at their stations, which included a small allowance for assorted trinkets and treasures, and thus the days Miss Pauling ventured into town were filled with a quiet sort of excitement. Much as they were soldiers of a secret war, and trained for such, it grew dreadfully lonely and dreadfully threadbare.

This day, though… Something about it was different.

While the great majority of his fellows dispersed from the lawn as swiftly as they had come, their spy, Laurent, remained, conversing with Miss Pauling. Samuel could hardly make out a word at his distance, but his eyes were sharpened by his particular profession, and the feeling between their persons was a tense one. Her brows were furrowed sharply over the silvery frames of her spectacles, and Laurent’s hands formed clipped gestures at his sides. Whatever it was they spoke of, it hardly seemed a pleasant thing.

After mere moments more, Laurent plucked a paper from Miss Pauling’s elegantly gloved fingers and held it out before him, pursing his lips as he studied it, before shaking his head, offering Miss Pauling a crisp salute, and trudging across the lawn.

In what appeared to be Samuel’s direction.

Growling softly, Samuel wrinkled his nose, staring firmly down at his plate in some vain hope Laurent would pass him by, that the mysterious business he appeared so perturbed by was kind enough to leave Samuel alone. The last thing he needed was another catastrophe atop the neverending tumultuousness of his wartime existence.

“Bushman.”

In spite of his willing, Laurent’s infuriatingly smooth voice lilted into his ears with a weariness that belied an intent beyond an obligatory passing greeting, and Samuel found himself looking up to meet his tired gaze.

The warmer weather had done a kindness to the spy; his sallow complexion and skeletal frame were given a new life in the sun, and the embroidery in his suit shimmered like the finest of jewels. And still, Samuel couldn’t help but find him dour, unpleasant, and downright infectious in his discomfort. Almost in response to Laurent’s hardened grimace, Samuel shifted in his seat, his skin itching ‘neath his clothes.

“Spook.”

When the acknowledgement of Laurent’s presence failed to dispel him from Samuel’s immediate company, he sighed, and turned to properly face the equally beleaguered spy, letting his boots sway loosely beneath him.

“Unless it’s business, I’m not interested,” he said brusquely, fixing Laurent with a firm stare that he returned with unflinching readiness. Pale eyes bored into his own as Laurent shook his parchment bounty open with a sharp flick of the wrist.

“While my present port of call has little to do with our current occupation,” he said, calm and measured, “I have a feeling you will want to see this.”

The paper was rough and worn, stained deep yellow with the wear of travel, and the ink splashed across it was coming off on his skin and the leather of his glove in small flakes, but there was no mistaking the printing.

At first, Samuel blanched, presuming it a call for their heads, but as he read, the fear curdled into something far more baffling. Taking up most of the page was a sketched rendition of the two of them—sniper and spy—stood side by side, illustrated Laurent flashing a wry smirk at his ink-bound companion that the drawing of Samuel readily returned. Bold typeface toward the top spelled out “WANTED” clear as day, although there was no reward attached. Twirling arrows pointed to Laurent and him in turn, annotating precisely who was whom. There was yet more type at the bottom, but Samuel had rather stopped processing exactly what it said by then, and handed the sheet back to Laurent with an incredulous scowl.

“What in the hell is this?”

As Laurent crisply refolded it and placed it in an inner pocket, he replied, “We appear to have been entered into some sort of tournament.”

“Tournament?” Samuel’s mind whirled, spiraling out endless possibilities, each one markedly worse than the last, “As in… fighting?”

“Mercy of mercies, I do not believe so,” Laurent mused, crossing his arms and glancing into the distance. “Even with my considerable skill, we would hardly stand a chance with you on our side.”

“Watch your tongue, Frenchie.” Livid, Samuel snapped, instinctively reaching for the machete at his side. “Don’t pretend you’re not glad of this as well.”

Laurent snorted. “Of course I am, but it is hardly a matter of cowardice.”

“Yeah? What is it, then?”

“I do not wish to dirty my suit,” Laurent sneered, mouth curved sharp as his knife. In that moment, Samuel wished for nothing more than to knock that wretched expression from his face, but resorted instead to knotting his fist in the fabric of his shirt. It certainly would not do to lose his composure so early and in a place so visible to his superior, but oh how he longed to rattle Laurent around, maybe beat some sense into him along the way.

Samuel rolled his eyes. “Fine. If we’re not to be fighting, what exactly are we meant to be doing?”

“If I am interpreting the missive correctly,” Laurent said, smoothing the fine hairs of his wig, “it is really less of a gladiatorial affair, and more of a… popularity contest.”

“Oh.” Cocking his head, Samuel let the implications wash over him, feeling his body recoil in the wake. “Oh.”

“Strange, is it not?” Taking a deep breath, Laurent shrugged slow and deliberate. “Still, I suppose I might consider myself at an advantage. I have many a desirable quality to be considered…” He trailed off, but Samuel was suddenly alight with energy.

Held in his hands was the opportunity to be absolutely devilish, and he seized it with vigor.

“Oh, really?” he said, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Laurent whirled, eyebrow raised in sharp relief. “Is this a joke?”

“No.” Samuel poured as much sincerity into his voice as he could, leaning forward with earnest. “You see, we’ve been friends for so long—” he stifled a laugh, “—and I’d never even realized! Please, tell me about these ‘desirable qualities,’ I would love to hear all about them, and at the greatest of lengths.”

For a long, terrible pause, Laurent only stared, and Samuel faintly worried he was about to receive a length of cold steel across the throat or wedged between his ribs, but then Laurent’s cheeks flared red beneath his powder, and his mouth hung agape.

“You— you arse!” he snarled, seizing Samuel by the cravat and drawing their faces close. “You would do well to mind your manners, bushman. I do not abide mockery, nor do I suffer a fool, and you, sir, are a prime example. Remember this, lest I be forced to remind you.” With this, he drew his suit back, revealing the delicately tooled sheath for his beloved dagger. Samuel swallowed, thought up every prayer he could, and grinned wolfishly, fiddling with Laurent's elegant sleeve cuff.

“Wouldn’t want to get this dirty, would you?”

Laurent’s nostrils flared, his breath hot on Samuel’s lips, before he released him, pushing him back roughly and huffing, indignant. Samuel massaged his neck, relief coursing through his veins. A scant few feet away, Laurent stood in profile, nearly serene if not for the subtle movement of mute, furious speech.

“Nice talking to you,” Samuel said cheerfully, and, strange as anything, Laurent actually laughed. It was a brief, choked thing, barely identifiable as humor, if not for the smile playing across his face.

“You, sniper,” he said, reaching out and taking a bite of Samuel’s bread roll, “are a ridiculous, ridiculous man.” With this last remark, he about-faced and trudged across the lawn, spine ramrod straight and be-ribboned hair flouncing against his back.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Samuel called after him, and Laurent retorted with a sharp, “Go fuck yourself!” which Samuel could only meet with a thrown bread roll. It collided with the back of Laurent’s head with a satisfying muffled thunk, and Samuel cackled as Laurent let loose a long stream of French obscenities, harshly adjusting his wig so rudely whacked askew.

“I hope you know I despise you,” Laurent hissed once he had deemed himself presentable, and disappeared inside the house with the slam of the heavy oaken door.

“Yeah, yeah, hate you too,” Samuel said. Tucking his legs back into his window seat, he inhaled the lively summer air, and discovered he could not stop his beaming.

[as ever, flintlock fortress is a collaboration with @chiropteracupola]