#boost writeblr

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

just a heads up to my fellow writers out there that AO3 is currently fighting off bots commenting on people’s works to tell them that AO3 will delete their fics “due to the works being deprecated”, and the deletion will affect their accounts unless the authors delete the fics themselves first. IT IS A SCAM. AO3 will NOT delete your works. please do NOT fall for these bots!

I’ve been told the reason why these bots are doing this is due to copyright infringement issue where they’re trying to steal your works (possibly to train AI but this is just a guess) ‼️‼️‼️and once you deleted your fics, it will be either very difficult or impossible for you to claim ownership of your own fics when they were already deleted.‼️‼️‼️

a reminder that AO3 will never contact you through your comments section (in case they claim to be one of the moderators). AO3 will only contact you through your email address which you use to register your account, and it will be from AO3’s official handle. not some sketchy ass @

so if you get a comment telling you you should “delete your works to protect your account because AO3 is doing blah blah blah” report that comment. don’t delete your works.

PLEASE DO NOT FALL FOR THESE SCAM.

AO3 IS NOT DELETING WORKS.

DO NOT DELETE YOUR WORKS JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE CLAIMS THEY KNOW SOMETHING.

[shichidikai]

PEOPLE OF TUMBLR! i am crazy curious to know what makes you (or stops you from) reblogging posts from writers that advertise their fics!

fanart still gets notes, shitposts still get notes, but a writer can put up an ao3 link to some of the most amazing words you'll ever read and it'll end up with 3 reblogs and 9 likes on a very good day; therefore i am begging to know what would actually make you reblog (yes reblog specifically, because likes are wonderful but they don't spread the word!) an author's post about their fic!

little things for clarification:

* second option: does not include fanart (either author-drawn or commissoned); this would include things like moodboards, other photos or graphics, etc.

** fifth option: includes things like oneshots posted directly to tumblr, x reader posts, etc.

[monthlywritingchallenges]

This'll be a low-pressure, creativity-first challenge focused on capturing a single, powerful moment.

Instead of writing long fics or following a daily prompt list, this month is all about choosing just one moment to write about.

🌻 Rules

Write one scene, one interaction, one dialog...

No word count minimum or maximum

All genres and fandoms are welcome

Post any time during June

Tag it with @monthlywritingchallenges #justonejune and/or submit it to our AO3 collection

🌻 Need inspiration?

Just one bed

One summer day

A single one kiss

One last try

This song from their youth

Just one look

One morning together

A missed call

Just one secret

One year later

Just one piece of cake

A shared goal

Let's write 🌻

[heywriters]

Everyone who was/is dedicated to tagging Goncharov as "unreality" pls do the same with AI images.

Untagged fake photos are permeating the art, interior design, and now writing prompt areas of tumblr. It gives me uncanny valley ick, so there's probably others who it stresses out more.

Please tag your auto-generated images!

[secretficblogs]

"First Date Jitters" Divorced David "Deacon" Kay x School Counselor! Reader

Summary: Your date with Deacon gets derailed but you still find a way to make the most of it.

What to expect: 4K words, Light mention of divorce, Canon warnings (hostage situation, robbery, light mention of gore/guns), drinking, descriptions of being cut, flirting, fluff, comfort

A/N: I blushed so hard when yall asked for a part 2, I didn't really proofread btw

You could feel the seconds ticking away as you sat at your meeting. Why did school counselors need to sit in on district meetings, anyway? You glanced at the clock on the wall, 4:47.  Your leg was bouncing underneath the table, a representation of your nervousness. It was your first date in god knows how long. You still needed to run home, change, and meet your date, but you were stuck with what could've been an email. You looked again, 4:48, oh my god.

“Would you be for or against this change, (Y/N)?” Your boss shook you from your thoughts, leaving you to look at the schedule change in front of you. 

“I-I think this looks… great. I don’t have any suggestions.” You slide the paper to the center of the table, glancing back up at the clock. 4:52. 

“Alright well, if that concludes things… I'll let you guys get going. Thanks for hanging back for a bit.” The staff began to stand and file out of the room. The English teacher, you knew her as Jane pulled you aside.

“So, spill! What are you so keen on leaving for?” She rubbed her hands together, leaving you to roll your eyes.

“I’m going out on a date.” You answered, throwing on your cardigan. Jane danced around you and let her noises of excitement draw attention to the two of you. 

“Alright, alright,” you laughed. “I don't even know if it will go anywhere. Just nice to get back out there, I guess.” You rubbed your arm, as you made your way out of the conference room. 

“I'm just so happy for you! It's about time. You have the best time tonight, okay? Stay safe, and call me if you need a lifeline!” She shouted your way as you both made your way towards your respective cars. You thanked her before closing your door.  You made quick work of the dinner rush and ran up the stairs to your apartment. Quickly locking yourself inside, you immediately started changing into the semi-formal dress you had set out last night. You glanced up at yourself in the mirror, deciding a touch-up would do you good. You grabbed out a darker lipstick, one you wouldn't wear to the school. You looked at your phone, 5:19. You rushed to get your heels on and grab your purse, taking one final look at yourself in the mirror. 

“Okay, (Y/N), let's get back in the game.” You ruffled your hair and made your way back down to your car. You peeled out of the parking garage. Your fingers tapped against the steering wheel praying for the light to change. The drive felt longer than it was, and the counselor in you told you to breathe before you left your car. 

David sat in his car rubbing his hands on his thighs, nervously. He recognized you in the car that pulled up across the parking lot. He watched you fix your hair in the rearview, and step out of your car to straighten your dress. David’s nerves were calmed once he noticed you were anxious too. He stepped out and made his way to the door, trying to pretend he hadn't noticed.

You walked towards the door and saw him waiting in the lobby. He met you with a smile and you immediately felt your knees weaken. Together you walked up to the host station and told the young girl the name of your reservation. She quickly led the two of you to your table and took your drink order. You both ordered wine and began making small talk about the restaurant you chose. 

“So did your interest in international food lead to your love for travel, or was it the other way around?” He asked, watching you take a sip of your drink.

“They are not mutually exclusive. My mom’s a professional chef, so I grew up trying all of her experiments. That's how I ended up in LA. She found better business here than Oregon.” You rambled. You couldn't tell where the feeling came from but you wanted him to know everything about you. 

“How old were you when you moved here?” David questioned. He seemed genuinely interested, which you liked. 

“I was 12. I wasn't too happy to leave the humidity. It took a while for my asthma to get somewhat used to the lack of moisture.” You folded your hands in your lap, smiling back at him. He nodded and you could see him commit the fact that you have asthma to memory. 

“How about you, did you grow up here?” You felt he was at an unfair advantage, knowing so much about you from your office.

“Yeah, born and raised.” He nodded.

“Nice, do you travel much?” 

“Not as much now, with the kids, but occasionally I'll find myself in neat places for work.” David felt his heart race a bit at the mention of his kids. He knew the entire reason they met was because of his kids,  but he knew many single parents’ kids scare partners off. 

That feeling quickly dissolved when he looked up from his glass to see your smile. He went to say something but your waitress came over. You both chuckled, realizing you hadn't looked over the menu much. Fortunately, you were both able to make a quick decision and get your food ordered. Your waitress refilled your glasses and left you to continue talking. 

“You said you had a meeting today, right? That go well?” He broke the silence. 

“Oh, yeah, it wasn't too bad. I really didn't need to be there. I was just excited to go home and get ready.” You looked away, shy to admit you were looking forward to your date.

“I’m glad. This is all I’ve talked about all day,” You looked up at him, shocked. “My team was so sick of me that they sent me home early.” David chuckled, leaving you to smile dumbfoundedly. 

“That makes me feel better, I wondered if you'd get bored tonight…” You sheepishly mutter.

“Why would you think that?” David's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“...Well, I don't have the most interesting life. I mean, you're a SWAT sergeant. I'm sure you get invitations for dates all the time.” You trailed off, taking a sip of your wine to stop your rambling. 

“I don't usually entertain that. I don't really enjoy being hit on. Most people just like the uniform anyway.” He tried to make you feel a bit better. “Also, you're insanely cool. I mean your office is decorated with so many interesting things. I gotta know more about that.” He folded his hands on the table.

“Well, ask away.” You grinned feeling warm from his words.

“The paintings on the walls didn't look like prints. Did you paint them?” David questioned. You began to answer, but your waitress brought out your dishes, set them down, and asked if you needed anything. You both ordered another drink and turned back to each other.

“The portraits are mine, but there are a couple of landscape paintings, sculptures, and trinkets that I got from friends and vendors.” You took a bite of your dish after speaking.

“Your paintings are amazing. Did you consider going into art before counseling?” 

“No, no. It's always just been something I did on my own time.” You gently shook your head. “There have been times where I've illustrated for friends and small startups, but not enough to go full time with it. Moreso just to help out small businesses.” You explained.

The two of you continued asking each other questions and eating in between. Time seemed to stop for the night. The only thing you and David were concerned about was each other. As the sunset turned into a dark sky, you sat across from David, captivated by him. You could tell he knew it, too. He would hold your eye contact for slightly longer than normal, and whenever your hands were on the table, he would make it his mission to rest his hand atop yours. 

The drinks didn't help either. Neither of you wanted to get drunk on your first date, but you definitely felt tipsy. The alcohol made both of you more brave, light touches turned to hand-holding, and your conversations became more personal. You both talked about your parents and how they felt about your jobs. You talked about your time as a therapist and he talked about some of his more significant cases. 

“I tried to be a therapist for the elderly because I thought it would be less pressure. David, I was so wrong.” You laughed, shaking your head. He chuckled as you recalled getting harassed by old men and women for 40 hours a week.

“Deacon.” He interjected.

“What was that?” You tilted your head to the side, confused.

“Call me Deacon. That’s what my team calls me.” He just wanted to hear you say it.

“Well, alright. Deacon.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks begin to hurt. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. You stared at each other, enjoying just being together. Your romantic staring contest was broken by your waitress dropping off your check. You reached for it, but Deacon was too quick.

“Deacon. Come on.” You reached your hand out, silently asking for the receipt. 

“No, no. I asked you out. And, I'm honored you accepted, despite not knowing me.” He nestled his card in the tin and set it aside, turning his attention back to you.

“I get the feeling you're not going to budge on this, so thank you.” You folded your arms across each other and set them down in front of you. 

“It was nice getting out, it's been a while since I did the whole ‘first date’ thing” Deacon allowed himself to be honest.

“I completely agree. It's more awkward than I remember.” You laughed. 

You and your date continued talking long after your drinks ran out. You felt so warm with him, and the wine didn't encourage you to leave him either. You continued flirting and getting to know each other before a commotion was heard a couple of tables behind you. You took your eyes off Deacon to turn around finding a group of people dressed in dark informal clothing. One of them held his hand underneath his jacket which made you whip your head back to Deacon. His once soft expression was replaced with a look of concern. 

“Um- Deac? I- Do you think somethings wrong?” Your hand made its way to the back of your neck in an attempt to rub away the rising tension. He didn't respond, looking down into his lap. You worked at a school, so it wasn't hard to tell he was texting someone. Your heart raced. It was obvious Deacon agreed that there was a problem.

You were going off sound alone, as the group of people were behind you. You managed to twist your head and spare a glance their way, only to find them talking very quietly with the now frightened host. Whatever they were telling her was scaring her shitless. You felt so bad for her, wondering what she was thinking.

With Deacon clearing his throat you looked back at him, and he gave you a forced smile. He rested his hand on the table, a silent request for you to grab it. You interlocked your fingers and squeezed, letting him know you were anxious.

“Be honest, how likely is it they're here for a table?” You met his eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation. You didn't need to though because he sighed and gave up on trying to hide his feelings from you.

“Unlikely. They look familiar, probably wanted for something. We can't do anything about it right now, so just relax. It'll be alright.” He soothed as he looked past you to see the host leave the group. The group of people looked around, one in particular made eye contact with a woman nearby. The older lady was decked out in diamonds and a fancy bag. The man must have been feeling bold because he walked up to her and held his jacket slightly ajar. Deacon couldn't see what he was concealing but it was pretty obvious it had to be a gun. 

The woman's face fell and the man she was with stood up clearly offended. Deacon's worst fears were confirmed when the man pulled out a gun and pistol-whipped the older man. Other patrons in the restaurant screamed and moved away from the man. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and turned to see Deacon beside you. He pulled you around the table and pulled you down to the ground. He told you to stay there before turning back towards the commotion.

You peered around the table to find the woman was forced to take off her jewelry and pass over her bag. Deacon raised his gun and announced he was LAPD. You were shocked. He was outnumbered and you had no idea if anyone else carried. You turned your attention to the other group members. One ran out once the hostility started, and two others looked at each other in a mix of disbelief and anger. You took this as a sign this wasn't planned. It also seemed like the group wasn't willing to kill. The man aimed his pistol at Deacon but refrained from firing, resorting to yelling instead. This scared all of the now hostages but only made Deacon feel better. If talking meant not shooting, he was okay with it.

It was hard for you to make out what he was saying, but you could tell he was scared. He likely acted on impulse and was struggling to de-escalate the situation. It's unlikely they knew a cop would be there, especially since your name was on the reservation. A couple of people tried to weasel their way out of their booths and sneak away but that only made the man more upset. His audience was leaving. He aimed his pistol and the nearby chandelier and fired, leaving you to scramble from your hiding spot as glass debris fell around you and nicked at your skin.

 You tried not to think about the blood pooling on your arms and face and just focused on finding cover elsewhere. Deacon had to trust the best way he could help was by keeping his gun raised, and trying to talk the man down. The other guys noticed the situation getting progressively worse and tried pulling him back towards the door, but it only angered the man more. He whipped around to yell at them, giving Deacon an opening to run and tackle the man. 

You were shocked because there was no telling what the other guys would do. Fortunately, the man's accomplices took the lowered guns as a sign to run. Your eyes followed them through to windows as they ran across the street. They didn't get far before police cars cut them off, and they were forced to surrender. 

Hearing shouting, you looked back to your date pulling the man up from the ground, his hands held behind his back. The gun was kicked away, and before long people wearing SWAT uniforms arrived, putting handcuffs on the gunman, and taking him away. Deacon didn't waste any time running over to you and looking at your various cuts. 

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N).” He grabbed the black napkin from the table to press it against your forehead, making you wince. 

“Y-... You didn't shoot the chandelier,” You looked around at the chaos surrounding you. EMT’s loaded the old man onto the gurney. Patrons hugged and made their way to their tables, unsure of what happens next. “Everyone’s okay thanks to you. You called the police?” you asked as he held your hand over the napkin, a silent request for you to hold pressure. 

“I texted a coworker. They took care of getting a team here. I don't think they called the patrol cars though. Maybe the host called.” He looked over your other scrapes, gauging how much medical attention you needed. “I think some of these need stitches…” Deacon looked over to see the EMTs occupied with the elderly man, and some other people complaining of heart rates.

“I still think I’m too shaken up to drive-” You were interrupted.

“I'll take you.” Deacon placed his hands on top of yours.

“Okay.” You sheepishly responded. You let him pull you up and with a hand on the small of your back he led you to his car. Deacon was helping you into the passenger seat when an officer ran over.

“Deac! You okay, man?” The man rested his hand on the open door looking at the two of you.

“Yeah, Yeah. Thanks for coming so quickly, Hondo.” He nodded looking towards the restaurant and the guests funneling out. Another two teammates ran over to you, and the idea that you were meeting his squad set in. You felt yourself sink into the seat, as you looked at the ground.

“Hey! Is this your date?” One of the other teammates asked.

“Are you okay?” Another member asked.

When you hesitated to respond Deacon spoke up on your behalf. “Luca, I knew it was wrong to hope I’d get through this date without you crazies. This is (Y/N). She got cut up by the chandelier, so I was going to take her to the hospital to get patched up.”

“You know you gotta meet the squad family early! I’m Luca, this is Chris, and that is Hondo.” The man explained. You tried to nod along, but the shock and the blood loss made you dizzy. 

“Uhh, yeah yall need to get going. We can do introductions later.” Hondo said, taping his teammate's shoulders. You have him a smile, before waving at them. Deacon shut your door and jogged around to the other side. Once he was inside he sped off, quickly navigating the Friday night traffic.  You occasionally zoned out, putting gaps in your memory. Deacon tried to keep a hand on you at all times to help ground you. He helped you check in, and stayed by your side as you got stitched up. He stepped out a couple of times to take phone calls. He profusely apologized every time, even with you explaining it was okay.

The nurse finished with your bandages and instructed you to keep your injuries clean and dry. He left, giving you and Deacon time alone before you had to head out. You sat in silence for a while, his hand in yours. You felt yourself zoning out again, and Deacon must have noticed too because he spoke quietly, drawing you back to the present.

“How are you feeling?” He rubbed the back of your hand, a concerned expression on his face.

“... I'm hurting, but I’m alive. This is what you experience every day?” You kept your eyes on the floor.

“I usually have a lot more warning, and protection, but yeah. It can be hard to digest and process emotions when things like this happen. Your wounds are large enough to raise some concern for infection too. Don't think you can't reach out… okay?”

“Thank you, Deacon. Know that I'll take you up on that.” Your worries dissolved, finally being safe and patched up.

“Are you ready to head out? I can just take you home.” Deacon suggested.

“And leave my car at the restaurant? I don't have a way to get it back to my apartment.” 

“I'll pick you up to grab it tomorrow morning. Or I’m sure I can have Hondo drive it back for you if you're worried about it being at the restaurant that was just robbed.” He was happy to make any accommodation if it meant you wouldn't worry as much. 

“That’s… really nice. I’d like that- you can just take me home though. My car should be fine.” You blushed, excited to extend the date longer. With a plan in place, Deacon led you to the lobby, and out of the clinic. He, once again, helped you into your seat before letting you direct him to your house. The ride was relatively quiet. The only thing on your mind was working up the courage to invite him in. You worried he would take it the wrong way, or think you were just expecting sex. Deacon pulled into your spot in the parking garage, slowly turning to you. 

“This place is… sketchy.” He mumbled.

“Most apartments in the heart of LA are…” You smiled. Deacon watched as your smile faded, watching the gears turn in your brain. “...Would you want to come in? I mean- like, just to talk. I don’t want this date to end.” He smiled back, making you comfortable by adding, “If you don't have a bedtime tonight, that is.”

“I would like that,” He laughed before continuing. “Annie has the kids this weekend.” You smiled and reached for your door handle. He put a hand on your shoulder, stopping you. You couldn't help but laugh and gently shake your head as he ran around to help you out of the car.

You led him to your apartment, his hand never leaving your waist. You wouldn't have guessed his love language was touch, but it was comforting regardless. You tried to think about the state of your apartment, deciding it was probably fine. You unlocked your door, and let him inside.

Deacon took in your apartment, just as cozy as your office. He could tell you took pride in your space and enjoyed just being in it. The overhead lights were off, and lamps and soft warm light made the living room very inviting. He looked for more pictures on the walls, finding more from hikes and parties. You asked him if he wanted something to drink, and he quietly said he'd have whatever you were having. Deacon was focused on the walls of your home. He heard two beers clink against the coffee table. He soon after felt your arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“You do this with all your first dates?” He asked laying his hands on top of yours. 

“This date wasn't a normal one, and you know that.” You laughed into his back. You retracted your hands and led him over to your couch, where your drinks were. He sat down and grabbed his beer, putting his arm over the back of the couch and urging you to sit by him. 

You obliged, cuddling up close to him. A brief silence settled between the two of you until you thought back to how you met. 

“Did you and Mathew talk more about his writing?” You ran your finger over the ridges in the bottle.

“I did. I think it brought us closer together. He decided to show Annie, too. I think it's helping us understand what he's going through and helps him know he can still rely on both of his parents.” He paused to gauge your reaction at the mention of Annie, but the reaction on your face was happiness—happiness for his son and his family. “It’s all thanks to you, you know…” He took a sip of his drink.

“Ah, it's my job, Deacon. Those kids are important to me, and they all need support from their school. It takes a village, or whatever the saying is.” You furrowed your eyebrows thinking about the countless visits kids have had with you, and how many students crashed your office during their lunch to discuss their feelings. The students who you let nap on your chairs, the lunch program you helped run, and so many more small moments that added up to big changes for students. 

“Well, whatever you're doing it's working. Lila thinks you're great too. Over the past few weeks, they haven't stopped talking about you.” He mentioned.

“Thank you.” You felt uncertain about how the kids gushed about you up around Annie, so kept the response short. Deacon must have noticed because he grabbed your hand. You looked up at him and smiled.

“I’m glad you asked me out.” You said quietly.

“I’m glad you didn't think it was weird.” Deacon earned a laugh from you. “So, does that mean you'll go on a second one with me?” He asked.

“It does, but you gotta pick the restaurant this time.”

The end :P

Taglist? Thanks for the support!

@pear-1206

[writeblrfantasy]

I have a large issue with the fact that in modern day, in the face of social media censorship and pearl clutching, authors have become expected to offer a disclaimer that they don’t condone the behavior or topics in their books. This doesn’t just go for authors who write from the perspective of a killer, but for an author who writes a toxic relationship, or abuse, or a villainous woman as a protagonist.

Many people assume that, if the author says nothing otherwise, they must be condoning this behavior. Some people even say it’s irresponsible of an author not to offer a disclaimer, for fear of corrupting readers’ minds. That authors have a responsibility to write about good and moral things for the sake of their readers, a sentiment which rubs me in all the wrong ways.

[2dmax]

poetry by Ameera, a disabled poet suffering from famine and genocide in Gaza click to learn her story and support her, reblog for reach

machine translated - if you can and want to translate arabic poetry to english, please message me!

أريد رجلأ لا يعرف شيئًا عن الغد 

يعيش اللحظة كأنها ساعة

والساعة كأنها يوم 

أريد رجلاً يفضل إرتشاف القهوة

على الأسفلت

يتلذذ بارتشاف السجائر

وكتابة اسمي على المرآيا. 

أريد رجلاً اتسكع معه

فوق كل جرح في شوارع المدينة 

وتحت كل شرفة مضيئة بضوء خافت حزين 

أغني معه لعاشق فقد حبيبته

في المجزرة الاخيرة . 

يسكب بؤسه في زاوية بعيدة 

وأسكب ما تبقى من ليلي في ليلي القديم 

يهب لي مساء مختلف 

وأجهض له فكرةً محشوةً بالرغبة .

أريد رجلاً يعرف طرق السلام دون أن يفشيه .

[ashleymilesphil]

Hello dear supporters and well-wishers,

Today, I come to you with heavy news and an urgent plea for help. A few days ago, one of our fellow queer community members was brutally attacked by a hostile local community because of who he is. Since the attack, he has been in unbearable pain, and today we were finally able to get a medical check-up for him.

The doctor’s feedback is heartbreaking:

He needs to undergo a serious surgery to properly treat his injuries.

• The surgery will cost approximately $1,500.

• If we are unable to raise the full amount, the only other option is a cementing procedure, which would still cost $300.

However, these treatments cannot happen immediately. First, He must undergo closed reduction under a fluoroscope to manage the swelling and properly prepare for whichever procedure we can afford.

We are devastated, but we are not giving up. He deserves a chance to heal properly and live without pain. We urgently need your support every dollar, every share, every word of encouragement counts.

Im attaching the medical report and X-ray results to this post for full transparency.

Please, if you can, donate or share. Help us give Brian the care he urgently needs.⬆️

Thank you for standing with us.

Im tagging this post for reach, when you see this kindly do the needful 🙏

@batmananimated @jonahmagnus @pitbolshevik @cometcrystal @haootia @skinwretch @determinate-negation @talasem @girlintheglassboxx @jame7t @treesbian @pollocks

@rocksnstars @mayonaisalspray @toiletpotato @pisshandkerchief @longseasons @wis-art @beserkerjewel @wolf-tail @strangeauthor @wolfertinger666 @a-shade-of-blue @yekkes @postanagramgenerator @feluka @punkeropercyjackson @strange-aelurus @nabulsi @ringosnoop @sporesgalaxy @palhelp @turtletoria @valtsv @annabelle--cane @anneemay @tamamita @taffybunnie @prinnay @prisonhannibal @pckseicns @komsomolka @neechees @victoriawhimsey @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @noble-kale @autisticmudkip @catnapdreams @mushroomjar

[sskybooks]

#25 What would your character do if they were a superhero? (And what would their powers be?)

I know you all have amazing creative juices in you and some amazing characters. This prompt is just for you to have fun and to help you explore your Character in a different setting. I would LOVE to hear what your Characters would do.

[aritany]

let’s bring back shitty comic sans powerpoint wip intros. please for the love of god i need to see a revolution

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

just a heads up for all writers out there!

I was recently told AO3 is currently being plagued by bots that comment on people’s works and falsely claim their fics were AI generated. and I can see how vile and discouraging hearing that is for authors who put so much time, effort and dedication into creating their fics.

now listen to me, if you ever get a comment like this on your work, please please please please know that they’re most definitely bot who comments the same thing on dozens of people’s works at random without ever reading the works. at all. they just copy and paste the same script onto random fics, any fic they come across.

they’re bots with malicious intentions, and they most certainly want you to lose motivation and/or delete your works. DON’T GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT.

if you ever get a comment like this, just delete the comment and/or report it to AO3.

remember that their comments don’t mean your works look “AI generated”. it only means these bots come across your fic and leave the same copy and pasted comment on it like they do to other writers.

don’t let them make you question yourself. they’re nothing but spam bots. YOU are a writer and you are fucking awesome.

[bonnibelleangelica]

Loving that the beginning of the big paragraph sounds like I was kept in a zoo. I was allowed out sometimes.

Debut Novel >>> @statusquoofficial

[carnocus]

WRITERS!!!

my dash is feeling empty, so please reblog/comment if you post about your writing! i want to follow more people and get more taglists to add myself to.

bonus points if you write scifi, horror, and/or are deep into worldbuilding!

[gaza-giving-tree]

🖋️ Writers Needed! Help Us Amplify the Voices of Gaza 🇵🇸

Dear friends,

We at Gaza Giving Tree are reaching out for a little help.

Our small team of two has been working hard to write and share the stories of families and individuals in Gaza �� but as the need has grown, so too has the number of requests for assistance.

We’re now at a point where the volume of asks is becoming overwhelming. While we are doing our very best to respond to everyone, the simple truth is: with more writers, we could help so many more people, faster.

If you’re a writer on Tumblr — whether you’ve done it professionally, or just have a passion for telling human stories — we would love to hear from you. You don’t need prior experience with this kind of writing — just empathy, a willingness to listen, and the ability to write clearly and compassionately.

We truly believe that more voices working together can help amplify these urgent pleas for aid — and make a real difference.

If you’re interested in volunteering or want to learn more, please DM us.

Thank you so much for your time, your hearts, and your solidarity.

— Gaza Giving Tree 🌿

[secretficblogs]

SDE (Single Dad Energy) Divorced David "Deacon" Kay x School Counselor! Reader

Summary: Deac gets called into Matts school to meet his new counselor.

What to expect: 1.6K words, Light mention of divorce, no angst, fluff, light flirting

A/N: This is the first fic I'm posting, so feedback is appreciated! I need more SWAT friends/moots, and I might add a part 2!

It was a slow day around HQ, which is why Deac was relieved to hear his phone ring. His relief quickly dissolved when he saw it was his ex-wife, and mother of his children, Annie. He sighed before picking up and plastering a smile on his face. His team members snickered as he walked away from the group. 

“David, Mathew's school just called. They asked for a parent but didn't say why. I'm in a session and can't get over there, " she said shortly. 

“We're in luck, I should be able to head over there shortly.” He looked over to his team, laughing, presumably teasing Luca. With a short goodbye, Annie hung up leaving Deacon to wonder what trouble his son had gotten into this time. He pocketed his phone before making his way back over to the table. 

“That was Annie. Mathew's school asked me to come in. Think you could spare me for a bit?” Deac looked towards Hondo, eyebrows raised. Hondo went to say “Yes” but Tan interrupted.

“I don't know, we may need your help with separating all of these M&M’s by color.” Deacon looked down at the small bowls of peanut candies, before laughing and shaking his head. He patted Tan on the back before swiftly making his way to the locker rooms. 

After a rather uneventful ride through mid-day LA traffic, he ended up at his child's school. He parked and entered the lobby. The receptionist asked him to sit and wait for the Counselor to come grab him. He thought back to the last school counselor and recalled a hoard of parents having problems with him. He wondered if the crappy counselor would be the one to grab him, or if they had finally replaced him.

He hadn't yet considered entering the dating scene. Not since Annie and him finalized the divorce. It wasn't the messiest, but he hadn't met anyone to go through a “clean” divorce either. It wasn't that he was still in love with Annie, but he was more concerned with getting split custody figured out. Not to mention work, which takes up most of his mental and emotional capacity. 

That's why he was in shock as the counselor came out to greet him. She was tall, her heeled boots only furthering the gap between the nearby counter and her waist. She was wearing a floral dress with poofy sleeves. Her curled brunette hair perfectly framing her face. Deacon felt his heart flutter, which shocked him. He hadn't felt that since…

“Mr. Kay?” She made her way over to Deac. Oh lord, her voice. He stood and shook her hand. He tried to shove down any unrelated thought but ended up making a fool out of himself trying to tell her he was Mr. Kay. Despite him stumbling over his words, she nodded along. Her hand extended to the office behind her, and she began walking down the hallway, urging him to follow her. 

“I'm Ms. (L/N). Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Kay-” She began.

“Davids, fine.”

“Alright. Thank you for meeting with me, David. I reached out to Mathew's mother, but I’m glad you were the one to show up” She explained as they made it to her cozy office. She sat in an armchair and gestured for him to sit in the chair beside her. He was confused but got comfortable in the maroon chair regardless. 

“Mathew has been in my office a couple times, to talk about things on his mind.” She continued. Annie had mentioned something about Matt seeing the counselor, but he didn't want to pry too much. 

“Mathews' English teacher expressed some concerns with his personal narrative. After one of our meetings, he asked me to show you his essay.” She passed over a stapled paper. 

“Was it something he didn't want to share out loud?” 

“Sometimes children find it difficult to explain or convey messages face to face. Mathew’s writing is beautiful, and that's why I think you'll want to skim through it.” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly. Deacon swallowed and looked down at the essay his son worked on. While he read the counselor stood and made her way toward the window, giving him space to work through the well-written essay. His son was pouring his heart out, talking about how his dad’s work and his morals are shaping him into an amazing person. Deacon almost teared up at the amount of pride Matt had in his dad. Reading through the essay helped Deac understand the weight of the divorce on Matt, and how he wanted to support his siblings and be the “Deacon” when his dad wasn't there. 

He looked up to see the counselor looking down at her nails, done for the current season. His heart swelled for his son, but he was also impressed with how dedicated the counselor was to helping connect families. She looked up and met his eyes, then smiled. 

“You're welcome to take that with you, share it with Mathews mother if you think that'd help at all.” They stared at each other, a level of awkwardness settled between them with the mention of Deacon's Ex-wife. 

“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. This whole… situation has been difficult to navigate, for everyone.” Deacon thought out loud, she nodded along. 

Her eyes shifted to her desk, “I told Mathew that I was his age when my folks got divorced. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger. David, Mathew is brilliant and his writing skills are something not many people see at his age.” She made her way back to the armchair, and sat, her hands settling in her lap. 

“He really is. I heard some pretty awful things about the last counselor,” He paused to witness her laugh. He could feel his insides warm; He wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life. “Which is why I’m so glad my kids have a solid support system in their school. Do you have kids, Ms. (L/N)?” He looked up, making a mental note to talk to Mathew later. She let her eyes meet him again. Allowing herself to feel some excitement that he cared to ask about her life.

“Oh, I don't. I get my fair share of them here.” It was her turn to make him laugh. She noticed his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than she would've expected. 

“I’m sure of it, I spend a couple hours with my youngest, and I start thinking in toddler. What made you want to become a counselor?” He crossed his arms.

“I've always been interested in psychology, and like I said, I went through a rough time when I was Mathew's age. So it led me here. ” She gestured to the office surrounding them. He nodded along as if it were the most interesting thing he'd heard in days. Every shred of information she gave him only made him want to know more. The light blush across her cheeks told him that she might want to know more about him too. 

"And you? What led you to SWAT?” They exchanged small talk before the phone on the desk rang. She excused herself before grabbing the phone. Deacon took this time to take in the cozy office. The maroon chairs paired well with the rest of the olive interior. He took it she was an artistic type. He found photos carefully placed along the walls, ones from all over the world. He recognized the Eiffel Tower behind her in one of them. In another she was in front of Chichen-itza. Other spots on the wall were filled with paintings, most of them portraits. 

“Yes… I understand. Yeah, we can reschedule… Tomorrow works, 2pm..? Alright. Good. Have a good day… Thank you!” She placed the phone back on the dock before turning back to him. “Sorry about that, David.” She held her hands together in her lap and sat on the corner of her desk. 

They talked about simple things, for a couple more minutes before Deacon received a text from Hondo, telling him where to meet for a case. He stood and shot her an apologetic look.

She laughed, “It’s no worry. Thank you for stopping in. I'm glad you got to read Matt’s essay. I hear there are some really great writing camps and competitions coming up. I think your encouragement could go a long way for him.” She smiled, something he noticed she did the majority of their time together.

“Of course. I didn't realize how much of a way my boy had with words. I'll talk to him more about it tonight. Thank you, Ms, (L/N).” He moved towards the door. 

“Please, call me (F/N).” Her blush came back even brighter. He felt bolder, now that she got a little more personal with him. He decided to shoot his first shot in decades and pray it hit somewhere.

“Well (F/N), If it's not too forward of me… Maybe we can get to know each other a bit more over dinner?” The moment the words left his mouth he felt nervousness making his body feel heavier. He couldn't help his hands from fumbling with each other. She was gorgeous, and a little younger than him. Not to mention his kid’s school counselor. 

His racing thoughts were stopped in their tracks by her voice. “I’d like that a lot. I know a Mediterranean place that serves the best paella. ” She looked to him for confirmation.

“Sounds great,” He wrote his number down on a nearby sticky note and passed it to her. “I can't wait to hear more about those pictures on the wall.” He took one last look at the picture of her in front of the Eiffel Tower, before backing out of the office. She laughed and waved him off.

“I'll text you.”

[writeblrfantasy]

~new video~ go check it out if you are like I was, screaming with despair into the void about the lack of queer representation, and the abundance of homophobia in fantasy worlds! fear not my friends, there is a solution: read indie!