#I first read them in middle school

[delphiniumjoy]

I should probably reread the Tiffany Aching books now that I’m doing witchcraft.

[catoscloves]

enemies to lovers isn't "he's generally an unpleasant person to be around, he constantly puts other people down and disrespects/condescends/ostracizes them, he's cruel and a bully... but his one redeeming quality is that he looks attractive" like. bestie that's not a redemption arc!! or a redeeming quality!!! a person can and should control their behaviors, but how they look literally has no bearing on their worth as a person!

like... this trope is about an initial misunderstanding and miscommunication that leads to mild conflict and resentment of each other,but eventually they move past this rocky start by revealing to each other their humanity and good qualities, and communicating what happened the first time they met so that they can clear up that situation, and slowly becoming good friends who enjoy spending time with each other and eventually become really close, and the realization that one accidental mishap/slip in behavior/aashole mistake isn't what defines a person and sometimes your first interpretation of them is sometimes wrong!! an entire opinion of someone should be formed based on their behaviors, values, actions, and morals, and quality time spent with this person, not because they have nice cheekbones.

[redflannel]

Ive read the hunger games more times than I can count but Ive only really READ the hunger games once, and that was when I was an adult. Bc honestly I don’t think most teenagers reading that book understand all the intricacies and themes of it

[multi-realm]

Realizing I never posted these??? anyway, +Anima be upon you

[insane-weasel]

I think as writers we should hold funerals for our WIPs more often.

Dearly beloved, gather us here today where this fic of some middle-aged man getting rawdogged and this other fanfic about the importance of friendship are laid to rest, because the author got really distracted playing that new video game.

We celebrate what could have been, cut-and-recycle those really good lines or ideas, because I swear I'm going to use them, I swear! And drag this poor document not to the great recycling bin or trash, but to the "graveyard" folder because sometimes I like to commune with the dead.

[buckets-of-dirt]

Not sure if it's my english minor trying to fill the void left by no longer being a student or if I just watch too many video essays but for some reason I'm focusing heavily on writers craft during this Artemis Fowl reread to the point that my dad (the only person I know who also read all 8 books and thus the best person to rant at about how much better the last half of the series could have been) accused me of "sound[ing] like a college professor" the other day

[infected-paul]

i call this one ali try-cry-why-try at her happiest...

[buneok]

part 1

this drawing is so sexy i wish y'all could see it but not yet 👊🏼💥

[mossiestpiglet]

You've been isekai'd to the fictional world of what you last played, read or watched (whatever was the most recent option)…what was it, would you survive and what would you do in it?

“Children of the Red King”-world and assuming this journey didn’t grant me an endowment or powers of any kind, I would immediately be getting a weapon and taking out Ezekiel Bloor. Item #1 on the agenda is Kill That Old Man. Item #2 is get Julia Ingledew and Vivian Vertigo together for the love of GOD they’re gay. Item #3 (this one may be tricky) rehabilitate and seduce Dr. Harold Bloor. Manfred would hate it on so many levels but I would be the healthiest relationship in his life like. Instantly. Even when he still hates and is actively trying to kill me, which is saying something. Item #4 get with Paton Yewbeam too fuck it. And Katya Kettle.

Now I have no clue how or if I could handle the Harken Badlock situation, so my primary hope is just that by killing Ezekiel early enough it would either be entirely avoided OR wouldn’t get as severe as it did in the original plot. But also don’t underestimate the power of just a fuckton of weapons and zero moral qualms about blowing that bitch up.

[orbdotexe]

Under pressure and request from both Osiris and Shin Malphur, Drifter seeks out the Young Wolf early in their exile. He's not sure he'd say it went well, but it certainly could've gone much, much worse. And hey; Shin was right, new friends are new friends. Alternatively: Two rogue Guardians play horse plinko with each other before agreeing to an exchange of favors.

I finally did it- A Questionably Fortunate Encounter's rewrite. I have no idea how I got the motivation to finish this, it wasn't even half done when I picked it back up, but here it is in time for TFE's (concept's) 2nd birthday! I am significantly happier with this than the original, you have no idea. It wasn't even a thousand words and now it's like 20 words from being 2k, and overall? Everything just has more character + an extra page of interaction and the end note being from Ghost instead of Drifter. and being accurate to more story details! I kept a lot of the parts i thought were funny tho, if moved them around-

[old ver. ao3] --- [new ver. ao3] (soon)

-

The Sundial. A ballsy idea from a mad warlock.

Knocking a few times on the side, he can’t help the chills down his spine at the whispers ringing in his ears.  “If you short-circuit the universe, you’re on your own.” He snips, his already uneasy grin wavering.

“If I make a mistake here, you might cease to exist,” the old Warlock says simply, though there’s a questioning edge to it.

Drifter only shrugs. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

Osiris squints at him as Drifter moves around the machine, checking the stability. “We haven’t talked about payment.” 

Drifter’s grin smooths out some, sly now. “If you live through this little experiment, you can be sure I’ll be back to collect.”

A simple ‘hm’ is the only response he gets for a few seconds, before Osiris starts again.

“There’s a Guardian you should meet.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve heard. Some bigshot—Can’t wait.”

"Drifter."

—

The Warlock and that old Hunter had their points—The Young Wolf needed people on their side, and it's not like Drifter couldn't use the opportunity. He figured, if worst comes to worst, just say Osiris sent him. It seemed the best bet; he heard the two of them had been on good terms, and Osiris wouldn’t have sent him without reason.

This was, regardless, a horrible idea.

Which was very quickly weighing him down as he waited just inside their most recent hideout; a willing, sitting duck in the path of a hellhound. Then again, Shin would be waiting for him, just the same, to see if he really went through with it. A rock and a hard place, if both were unmovable walls.

—

Eventually, the Kingbreaker did show up—and they looked pissed—but they didn't seem to quite notice him, yet. 

Their Ghost, on the other hand, had stopped at the door, and was switching between glaring at him, and watching its Guardian. It was a bare hope, but he almost prayed for the Little Light to let the Guardian notice him by themself—for what good it would do.

Drifter had to admit, though, they looked like Hell—In both the shit way and the eternal punishment way—And he'd quite like to keep them from being his punishment, thanks.

They were never in the same place for long, constantly tapping their fingers or wringing their hands. He'd almost call it a nervous habit; if the jerky, almost corpse-twitching movements didn't make him feel like they'd pounce on him at any given moment. It gave the distinct impression of a Taken, a fact he took no comfort in. He had told Shin they would be unpredictable, but recordings didn’t capture just how much.

The Guardian’s posture was rather slumped, in spite of their twitchiness, but he was rather certain he was a pinch taller than them; though it could be their hunch. That dead-eyed and bone-deep tiredness that seeped off of them… The Guardian stumbled whenever they walked, off-balance. Injured, maybe.

They looked as unstable on their feet as he imagined they were mentally.

He rapped his fingers on the tabletop he was leaning against, a slight knot in his stomach building on the question of ‘How to get their attention without getting pinned as a threat?’

Questionably fortunate enough, and probably should’ve been expected; the tapping made them pause, and he'd almost compare the frozen movement to their namesake freezing to listen. They nearly looked like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't be, or as if a sudden red dot (or dozen) had appeared on their chest. 

The Young Wolf then snapped to look at him, eyes narrowed and hand beginning to raise to their sword. Their Ghost noticed, and took it as a sign to speak up; "What do you think you’re doing here? Who are you?" For being the Ghost of an exile, its voice was strikingly uptight. Drifter had expected an edge to the voice, but not for it to be pedant.

"Mind your business, Ghost," he drawled. Their head jolted up a fraction. "Just want a talk with your Guardian, is all-"

Their Ghost flicked back a bit, only to be replaced by its Guardian stepping up close to him. Well… he got their attention, at least.

His gut twisted in knots as the seconds passed like that—far, far too close for comfort. "How about we just… back up for a moment, yeah? Think this all through?" Like he hadn’t. He should have told that Warlock and Shin to shove their requests back down their throats.

The Guardian tilted their head, the action more unnerving than anything else, reminding Drifter of a certain other Hunter, and he was unsure if it was an acknowledgement or a threat. They refused to look anywhere but his eyes, and he swore they leaned a bit closer.

He raises his hands to push them back a bit, but thinks better of touching them. He opts to just slide back a bit, instead– except they match his step. He does not take another one. That definitely wasn't good.

"I'll ask again: Who are you?" The Ghost hovers over its Guardian’s shoulder as they tilt their head to allow it to take the center of Drifter’s vision. Their dynamic is clear, but he tries to focus on them.

"Your old man Osiris didn't mention me?” Drifter tries to say, “I’m hurt–”

"You will be hurt–" the Ghost starts, just as the Guardian grips his collar. There’s a moment the Drifter is almost certain they were going to slam him into the wall.

"Alright, alright—” he tries to interrupt, “Just back up.”

It takes them a moment, and a couple glances between him and the Ghost, but they do back up, if not letting go of his collar. He tries to quietly let out the breath he’d been holding, nerves a bit strung. Their emotions are as on-a-dime as he thought. Damn this plan. The Ghost eyes him expectantly.

"You can call me Drifter; I run a little… operation outta the Tower." Their face somehow pulls even further in a grimace. “Now, I know how that sounds, but I’m not working with the Vanguard—Trust. Wouldn’t be here if I was: Heard about your… dislike of ‘em.”

He gives them a grin when they don’t make another move, though not optimistic. Watching every little change in their expression doesn’t give him much hope, either, given the hard line in their brow now. 

"That old Phoenix of yours pointed me your way, and I figured we both could make use of the others'... skills. I've got the connections, and you've guts enough to attack your own–”

The Drifter hardly has time to blink before his back is against the wall again, this time with a knife to his throat, sharp eyes glaring down at him—So it's like that. Osiris might've downplayed the sore spot; Drifter can’t even get away with a tease. He’s good at pushing buttons, but their reservations broke immediately.

He counts by the seconds as the Young Wolf silently dares him to say it again. 

While he decidedly opts not to and tries to think of a way to de-escalate his mistake, he has… an inane thought: They’re taller than him… Not by too much, but the thought gives him an idea potentially worse than even the meeting itself was; something mischievous glinting in his eye and, as an added bonus, giving the Guardian pause.

"...Kinky." Feeling their hold loosen somewhat and seeing their brow twitch, Drifter pushes the joke with a sly grin and a cant to the side. “I didn’t realize you swung like that, Killer…”

Drifter’s eyes flick towards the Ghost at the undoubtably horrified, near-static chiming it makes as it rapidly recoils. “Are you… trying to flirt your way out of this–”

The Guardian’s expression seems of someone entirely bewildered by a puzzle in front of them. As they loosened their hold in what he could only assume was disbelief, Drifter had to stop himself from laughing—in relief, at the absurdity, or at their reaction.

“Nahh… Just seizing an opportunity, you’d understand,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. There’s a moment of silence, the Guardian and their Ghost both searching his face, and it's everything he can do not to break—Either into a sweat or into a fit of laughter.

"...what the hell is wrong with you?" is the only response he got from the Ghost, the top fold of its shell covering half its eye. Drifter can only assume it's meant to be a mimicry of a dead-stare.

"Many things!” He gives a toothy grin that splits his face as he chuckles, “Next question."

The Ghost makes a show of rolling its eye, while the Guardian still looks like their mind has shattered, eyes seeming to search the wall through him for answers. The Ghost seems to take notice of its Guardian’s… inoperable state, and pipes up again, terse, “So what do you want?”

He’s really going to have to cut a deal with the Ghost, instead, isn’t he? As Drifter slowly tugs the Guardian’s hand from his collar—which they thankfully do not resist—he gives the Ghost the greasiest side-eye he can manage. “Well, as I was saying before your Guardian interrupted me,” it mimics narrowing its eye as he speaks. “I hear you two need friends, and, well, I’m always looking for more of those.”

“Just get to the point,” the Ghost pushes, tone flat. The Guardian seems to only vaguely be paying attention.

“Them and I could both use the support, so I suggest an… exchange.”

“An exchange? What is that– You mean, glimmer?” The Ghost interrupts itself with flicking its shell around itself and letting out a short chirr. “Information? We have nothing you’d want in that.”

“Nah, I don’t want any of that. If anything, I’m offering—You two just gotta do some favors for me in return. How’s that sound?” At the mention of favors, the Guardian refocuses; eyes widening some before narrowing and scanning him in search of some catch. “Just a job or two; you scratch my back, I scratch yours, yeah? Nothing you wouldn’t already do, of course.”

At the skeptical, almost blank looks from both of them, Drifter’s grin tightens some. “Favor for favor make sense to you?” He’s tempted to ask if they’ve got cotton in their ears. The pair take a long glance at each other, and he can only see the slight twitching in both’s expressions. 

“...And how do we know we can trust you?” Finally comes an answer, again from the Ghost, but one that’s more assuring than it probably should be.

“Your old man asked me here, didn’t I say? I wouldn't risk this without a good word.” That, or without Shin over his shoulder. He turns his eye back to its Guardian and offers them a hand, “So, whaddya say? Give it a shot, hotshot?”

The Ghost trills in some semblance of worry as the Guardian cautiously eyes him and his hand, body canted away from him, before hesitantly taking his hand. Their hold is slight and feels like they would rather writhe away from him, but they hold just long enough to shake his hand.

“Heyy, don’t be like that, now. Friends take care of friends, yeah? Trust.” The Guardian grimaces at his words. Maybe that odd adage of insects had a bit more truth to it than he realized. 

They’re more scared of you than you are of them?

—

Hours later, the Drifter far gone, and his Guardian was still kind of distracted. Honestly, Ghost would be lying if he said he wasn’t mind-broke by that as well. Who, in any sane state of mind, would do any of that? Sneak into an ill exile’s hideout, startle and piss them off, and then try to make a deal? 

And why did it… actually work?

Ghost must be losing it.

[big-idiot-wolf-boys]

The iron fey really gives the same vibes are twilight-- mid writing but absolutely banging setting/world building and characters that worm their way into your brain despite your best efforts to not care

[kestrel-wish]

Honestly almost forgot how much I loved reading books. I love the unfathomable amount of joy they give me. I love the little stifled half squeal half scream of delight that blocks my throat for a few moments when a part of the book makes me particularly laugh or smile at a joke or wholesome moment. And when I have to try my best not to let it escape my mouth so I don't screech out loud seemingly out of nowhere like a little kid at a McDonald's playground playing tag.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

there’s something so sacred about sharing what you love with others: whether it be a song or food or clothes, a show or a movie or pictures. it's just... such a deep and personal thing, you know? having someone carve out a little part of their heart and gift it to you with an abundance of joy and excitement and passion... yeah.

[sludgeguzzler]

man. i changed so much these past years

[musiquesduciel]

Christmas 2023 taking me back to 5th grade middle school days.

[nellectronic]

add “friday night parties” to the list of things I am NOT gonna miss about living in a dorm… I mean noisy neighbors were already on there but this specifically bothers me on so many levels