#creativity he wrote

[suchawrathfullamb]

sometimes I'll read fics or headcanons where Will makes fun of Hannibal and jokes around and Hannibal never gets his jokes or is all serious and formal, etc, but honestly? To me it's always the opposite lol, Hannibal literally called Mason when he was hunting him "just for fun" LOL LIKE THAT MAN. ALSO HE WAS MAKING CANNIBAL PUNS LEFT AND RIGHT meanwhile will is just sulking eternally

[that-was-anticlimactic]

[ID: a paper poster that says: “have you seen him? / now you have  :)”. there is a picture of Kenji from Bungou Stray between the lines of text. the picture of Kenji from the chest up. he is looking forward and smiling. he is dressed in his usual overalls. /End ID.]

☀️now you have☀️

[passthroughtime]

found this thing i made during my twitter days, thought why not bring it here as well

[majorproblems77]

Something different for you today! :D

So I saw a comic and It's lived rent-free in my head. It's great. I love it when this happens. It's by the lovely @strawberry-catcake, who is extremely talented and you should go and check out their stuff! It's based on the following comic

This was fun, I dont usually write Wild like, at all.

Without further ado, may I introduce, Behind the mirror

:D

[thedreadvampy]

just like. bit late to the TMA2 party here but casual reminder that if you stay on that thing where you keep looking for throughlines and Clever Thematic Links between Mechanisms albums and Magnus Archiveses I will come to your house and beat you around the head with a 2x4 painted with the words THERE WERE NINE PEOPLE WHO WROTE THOSE ALBUMS

[angelizs]

[Valentine's first winter - Riddle Rosehearts]

Summary: Through the haziness of his sickness, your light shines through. You stay by his side and Riddle's heart blossoms for you.

Notes: gn!reader, sickfic, fluff, could be read as a continuation of my other Riddle oneshot but it's not necessary to understand, super self indulgent, established relationship, Riddle's mother is it's own warning

Spring is the time for warmth, the time to watch the flowers bloom and appreciate the calming breeze. Winter is the contrary, it's the time for the chill, the time for the skies to open and cry onto the earth. 

Riddle usually was prepared for such times, of course. He'd check the weather cast everyday to make sure to bring an umbrella or a coat with him and text you to do the same. The thing is, he was also very busy, what with the finals weeks and winter vacation coming, as the Housewarden he had to deal with more paperwork than usual and keep an eye on the Heartslabyul's students to make sure they were keeping up with their studies. Since Trey wasn't the vice housewarden anymore, having moved on to the next grade and doing his reasearch somewhere at the Queendom of Roses, Riddle had more work than he was used to.

You made sure to check on him, reminding him to take breaks periodically. You even went to his room yourself, a tray of hand made sweets and tea in your hands. Riddle could feel the warmth of spring through his entire being as he looked at your gentle smile. He'd stop everything he was doing to spend some time with you, talking about your days in a way that brought peace for his soul for a moment, no thoughts spared for the mountains of paperwork left to do.

Still, it was due to having such a stressful schedule that he got too caught up with his work and forgot to check the weather cast one day. It was only one day, a little slip, but it cost him. On that day, Lady Luck turned her head away from him and the heavens poured onto the campus of NRC. What's worst, Riddle had been on the botanical garden when it happened, tending to his alchemy experiment. He only noticed the downpour once it was too late to run back safely, getting caught in the middle of it.

And that's how Riddle Rosehearts found himself on the nurse's office, body burning up and cursing his unattentiveness.

Riddle remembers when he got sick once, as a child. He felt terrible, hot all over, sweating and dizzy. What's worse, he couldn't concentrate on his books at all, his eyes felt heavy and kept closing on their own. He just wanted to sleep, but he still had to finish one exercise. His hands trembled as he tried to write some gibberish, he'd never felt so bad before. His eyes watered and his vision was blurry, words getting mixed with the others, although there was one thing he could see clear as day. His mother disappointed face as she came to check on him. 

She put the back of her hand against his forehead and the cold felt so good against his burning skin, he couldn't help but lean into it, closing his eyes in relief and letting out a whimper. The sensation was gone sooner than it appeared, leaving Riddle to almost topple over with the weight of his own head. She said something about him not listening when she warned him about the climate change, as winter approaching tended to bring such colds. He couldn't listen properly, his head was full of mush, he could barely keep his eyes open. She tutted and grabbed him by the arm, getting him up so fast he felt like throwing up, his vision blacking out for a second and losing his footing, only that firm brusing hand on his arm keeping him up. 

She took him to his bed and gave him some bitter medicine, telling him to stay put for the rest of the day. He obliged, as always, what else could he do? His mother was a doctor, she knew what she was talking about. He knew she had better, more important things to do than look for her disobedient son that went and got himself sick. She's a busy woman, so busy that outside of lessons he almost never saw her. He understood, she had to work hard to keep herself at the top, and that meant she didn't have much free time to spare him. Still, he felt very lonely in such a vulnerable state. Alone in his room, the aching in his chest felt worse than the cold. The red of the wall burnt his eyes, so he burried himself on the covers, still sweating, hugged his pillow on his chest and wished, desperately hoped, for it to go away soon.

The sensations from back then come to haunt him again. There's shivers breaking out on his body but his skin burns, he can't decide if he's running too cold or too hot or too much. His muscles weight a ton, holding him back on the bed, making his movements sluggish. He wants to rip out his vocal cords and weave new ones, ones that won't grant on his ears and won't rasp his throat with every syllable.

He can hear the door opening. It's not the nurse, but you. Through the haziness of his sickness, your light shines through. You stay by his side and Riddle's heart blossoms for you.

You have a worried look in your eyes as you pull a chair to sit next to his bed, eyeing him with concern. He hates that he's a bother, that he caused you distress over something so easily avoidable. Even so, your presence washes over him as if cleansing his soul. He's glad to see you, he realizes. He's glad to not be left alone.

There's a cup of water in your hands, and he gladly takes it, greedily downing it. The liquid freezes all the way down his throat, his flaring insides lapping it up, he wants to drink more and more. Your hand takes his and makes him slow down, least he chokes. It's a little thing, but this simple gesture makes his insides flutter. You take the glass from his hands once he's done, putting it on the bedside table and focusing your whole attention on him. He wants to drink up the sight of you.

The way Riddle looks at you leaves you breathless, fever ridden lidded eyes glancing through his lashes as if you were everything he could ever need. You hung up the stars on the sky, you painted every color of the sunset, you were the sun and the moon, the cosmos itself. He looked with so much adoration, as if he couldn't believe that you were still there, with him of all people. Him. You choose him and you stayed with him and he was so, so grateful for it.

You call out his name softly, oh so softly, and give him a kiss on the forehead, your lips leaving a tingling sensation. He wanted to berate you, to tell you to not that, since you could get sick too, but no word left his sore throat, he couldn't gather the strenght to protest against something that felt so good. Instead, he lets the words that run through his mind leave his tongue, unfiltered.

"You shouldn't be worrying about me, you have more important things to care about."

You smile, a bittersweet thing, eyes contemplating, as if asking youself 'doesn't he get it?' He's not in the best state to read your expression, though. You tenderly put your hand on his forehead, moving some hair sticking there and feeling his warmth. He leans into the touch, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips.

"Oh, Riddle, I'm taking care of something important. In fact, I can't think of a single thing that could be more important than you. The rest can wait, I want to make sure you're ok first and foremost."

Riddle's eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. What could he say to that? His vision blurries, but he isn't sure if it's because of the fever or something else. Maybe it has something to do with the way your eyes gaze at him, so full of unfiltered love that Riddle could never doubt a word that falls from your lips, doesn't matter if they seem too good to be true.

You giggle at his cute dumbfounded expression, teasing him a little. "Cat got your tongue?"

He pouts, cheeks puffing up a bit and turns his head away. It's extremely endearing, you can't help but let out a laugh. Your hand run through his bangs, taking them off his sweaty skin, massaging his temples. He closes his eyes, pure relief flowing through him.

It felt nice to be taken care of like this, the simple comfort of your steady presence by his side made him feel like he was safe, like it would be alright, that he could let go and trust you'd take care of him. He wanted to grip onto this feelings and not let go, let them fill him up and chase the disease out of his system. One of his hands lifted to cover yours that was still in his forehead, a childish impulse to make sure you'd stay. You let out another soft laugh, the sound being enough to make him breath better, lifting a weight from his chest. You'd stay, he was sure of it. You always do.

Still, Riddle felt disgusting, runny nose and sticky skin, face as red as his hair. He wanted to get out of his dermis, rinse his bones until they shined and stopped feeling like that, unbearably dirty. But you didn't move away from him, your expression was always that of worry and fondness, never of disgust. "I'd never be disgusted of you, Riddle." You murmur, and he must have let his thoughts slip through his loose tongue. "It's a normal reaction, you can't control it. There's no reason to feel ashamed." It's so easy to fall for your words, so easy to let himself fully believe in them, so easy to accept the reassurance.

Riddle can take care of himself. He doesn't need to be babied and he doesn't need anyone's pity. He wants to do things his way, he doesn't want to depend on anyone, doesn't want to look weak. But your gentle voice echoes in his head, saying that's ok to ask for help. He doesn't need to do everything alone, he can count on you. And he trusts you so much, with his entire soul, so he lets you stay by his side. He knows that once he wakes up, you'll still be there. You always stay. 

"Rest up, dear." Your voice hypnotizes him, there's no way to not listen when you hold so much fondness in a single word, a single word that makes his heartbeat run faster and a his lips curl upwards.

He lets himself fall freely in the feeling of your love. Your breathing lulling him to sleep, his fingers gripping your hand and not letting go. His eyes close softly, naturally, and the tension seeps away from his body. You'll take good care of him, he's sure. You'll hold his worries in your hands, taking them out of his mind to let him rest.

There's no doubt in his mind that what he feels is love. Outside, the harsh winds of winter cut through the sky. Inside, the soft warmth of spring envelops his sleep.

Masterlist

[o-uncle-newt]

Just saying, I am completely willing to give John Finnemore all the credit for everything I like about Good Omens S2 and blame Neil Gaiman for everything that I think was a mistake

Unfair/irrational absent proof? Maybe. I don't care, gonna do it anyway.

[cervideity]

Are there any FS manga ideas you've had which you haven't really seen anywhere but wish were more common?

RUBS MY HANDS. ok so bc i havent been here that long i havent really seen even a fraction of all the fan content for this thing (although i comb through oldER threads, fanworks, and deviantart fairly often) so i cant say anything on it not existing... plus this is pretty basic

but onw of my fav concepts i dont see utilized too often is pairing off two of the 4/maybe5 guys and putting them in a damn situation by themselves. most of the time , at least the fancontent I see has them all together, by themselves, or paired off like they were in the manga. which is FINE. maybe im just geared different. but what better way to enjoy their characters like its new. what better way to analyze . fuck you scoops up red and vio puts them in the Labrynth with devious creatures. .yaknow?

just for you anon N9BODY ELSE LOOK !! /joke. some very * rushed in the fervour of inspiration * [badly drawn] concepts for a green n shadow dungeon

[mirrortouchedsea]

Day 12

Hi everyone welcome to my quiz “What ghost from your past haunts you?” I’m super excited for everynyan to take it, please tell me what you got in the comments!! Okay now first question and I know that it’s basic buuuuuuuuuuuut what’s your favorite color? 

> Green 

Oooo great choice great choice. Now, what do your parents do for a living? 

> Community leaders 

Ahaha, someone has important parents I see. How about… have you ever sinned? 

> Many times 

At least you’re honest. Okay just a few more questions now! I can already feel what ghost wants to talk to you ^.^  what’s your dream job? 

> Singer 

Ambitious! Well I’m sure if you try hard enough someone will recognize you. Two more questions now! Oh why did I decide to do this :/ uhm… do you have any siblings. 

> No 

Only child are we? Alright last question before we get to meet your ghost! Do you believe your sins will be forgiven Tatsumi Kazehaya? 

> No 

Your result: Kaname Tojou 

You know exactly what you did, Tatsumi Kazehaya. Kaname Tojou was a young and bright idol who was going to make a name for himself in the industry despite everything and you ruined it. Do you stay awake at night wondering what he felt in his final moments? Do you ever regret what you did to him? Kaname Tojou still haunts your every waking moment and he wants to know why you never came back for him. How does it feel, Tatsumi Kazehaya? He loved you and you abandoned him. 

Comments: 

From: alkapriest 

What an…interesting quiz. 

Reply to alkapriest from kanatoj 

Tatsumi-senpai, please come back. 

[signalhill-if]

Fun fact: a lot of the story ideas I have came from the world I designed for an Apocalypse World game, and at the time I was reading @attollogame and loved Sysba and wound up making a character with a similar premise of being a god banished to live in a human body. That character took on a life of their own and became like everybody's favourite NPC. But they were really specific to that game's story at that point and were very fultifaceted, so when I started writing Signal Hill (which has a totally different plot) I decided to split their role in the story into two different characters, Yvette and Aldrich.

In other words, if you trace it far enough back, 1/3 of my main cast is just Sysba from Attollo

[purrfectlycontent]

the scars you gifted me are disappearing.

the charming blood red from when your claws tore into my skin

is now budding into something new.

something pink.

one day i may forget how i lived with you

and my life that has withered away

will blossom into something new.

without you.

— with love,

[that-was-anticlimactic]

guys help what are good creative project ideas kids can do for a short story (i'm writing a list of examples and need more lol)

here's what i have so far:

Screenplay/script for a play

Write a song/musical (trailer)

Record a video of yourselves reenacting a part

A Youtube apology video from one of the characters

Movie trailer

Puppet

Mukbang “Youtube” story discussion

Write a “what happens next” continuation

i feel like i'm missing some other areas of expertise like those who really like drawing and stuff iuygfgyhuijko

[thebreakfastgenie]

I often forget most people don't have the Queen knowledge of having had a Queen phase after the movie came out but the only part that actually bugs me is when people assume Freddie wrote all the songs. Every member of Queen wrote at least one top hit song which actually makes them unique as a band and I love how talented they all are. Brian May and Roger Taylor both sing too and they actually sang the songs they wrote early but then they realized having Freddie Mercury sing their songs was better.

[vordemtodgefeit]

i got a high 1st in my classics creative project!!!!!

[ace-and-ink]

i don’t think love is in the cards for me this year

when have i let a card rule me?

credit cards, i guess

debit cards,

draw fours,

get out of jail free cards

there’s a heart in the standard deck

would i have to start using “ace of hearts” for myself?

because that means something different

they all mean something

they mean something to people like me

the suit is red

does that means hearts are red?

does that mean love is red?

blood is red

our hearts feed us that

blood is such a raw metaphor

but cannibalism as desire is cliche now, isn’t it?

so it must be a sharp shade of pink

pink means something to me

those ribbons took my mother from me

it’s genetic but supposedly it’ll miss me

i have my breasts and i’m proud of them

but the world is not

i’ve seen girls suffer for less

i’ve seen girls suffer for more

what is pink-red that is good?

cherries are nice

they have a shade of red all their own

i like cherries

and red, ambiguously flavored, supposedly cherry things

the cherry coke fountain

spits it’s product more violently than the lemonade fountain

is one more loved than the other

or is it just the nature of how they are?

is all poetry melancholic or mythical

or is just the nature of how it is?

i write poetry in the loosest sense of the word

i’m a woman in the loosest sense of the word

women are thought to be the love-obsessed ones

you think of rom-coms

and the woman chases the man that’s out of her league

and she also makes the questionable choices

both in men and in behavior

you’ll hear love poems and assume it’s from a woman

when i open a door

i hold it with my hand

and i push with my whole body

when i meet another woman

i greet her with a smile

and i fall with my whole heart

i don’t think love is in the cards for me this year

— warm up: cards