#hopefully it doesn't disappoint

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

just so you guys know, I am intentionally adding more Seb/Spencer fluff to this chapter because I know you guys have been waiting for it

[apt502-if]

"A lot of the times--especially when it comes to female characters in IF--they are written in a way that makes it obvious that the author thinks of them as male and just shoehorned the female version for points." and this is exactly one of the reasons why I'm so excited about your story!!! thank you for that!! <3

I understood! Thank you and I hope you like the demo when it releases! I'm excited that you're excited! + I hope your test went well!

Thank you!!! <3

[taecdimples]

I'm just waiting for the day Stray Kids pulls a GOT7 on JYPE...I'm calling it now...

[zestyleaf]

Right after fantasy life online, a disappointing shadow of the 3ds classic built on predatory gacha microtransactions, dies a pathetic death after barely a year released in english, a brand new switch game rises from its ashes. Literally would have never guessed this would happen

[wordswhisperinthedark]

CAN YOI PLEASE GO TO A STUDIO THAT WILL TREAT IT WITH THE LOVE AND RESPECT IT DESERVES??? 😭

[bellincurl]

NO ONE TOLD ME WOLFERTINGER666 WAS PUPPYCHAN HELEPRRP?!?!?!??!÷&÷*&^#&$

[plantdad-dante]

Book #143 - All That's Left In The World by Erik J. Brown

(FINALLY. SOMEONE WHO AGREES WITH ME ON THAT FUCKING SONG. By far not the most important thing, I know. But still. But still. No, I'm not petty.)

Gods, I adored this. I also finished it in under 24 hours and it didn't give me the Carbonated Brain feeling, which gets immediate bonus points.

Oh, this book is a genre feast, and it was queer, and it was funny, and it kept me up til 4 am! And I adored it.

I mean, yeah, mentally I kept comparing it to The Girl In Red by Christina Henry (a book which, for the record, I did. not. like.), but just because that book fucked up its pandemic caused post-apocalypse so bad, and I was making internal notes like "oh, this is better, and this aspect is better handled, and the characters are more believable, and this aspect makes more sense-" and so on.

Even down to petty things like the name of the disease that I complained about way back when. Because Girl In Red insisted on calling its disease The Cough, capitalized, dramatized and everything. While here, the disease is just... a superdeadly mutation of avian flu. And characters refer to it in an organic, understandable way. To them it's just "the bug" or "the superflu" and yes, it changed the world by killing most of it and severly traumatizing the rest, but like... life moves on? "I need to find some shelter and food"? "Help, my foot is stuck in a bear trap"? And that just instantly makes it feel more organic.

Just in general, I think GIR, looking back, was quite embarassed about being a post-appocalypse story. It wanted to be genre-savvy and subversive and clever and exiting, and turned out quite the opposite, in my view. Meanwhile this book decided "post-apocalypse, but gay this time. that's what we're gonna do, that's what we're gonna be" and then it did it and it was fun.

Was it genius? No. Was it subversive or a life-changing addition to the genre? Well, it was queer... but other than that, no.

But it also did not need to be for me to have a grand ol' time with it! This made me laugh, this made me cry, it entertained me, and at no point did it feel the need to be super smug and clever about any of that!

Also, it decidedly neither went the "humans are the real monsters", nor the "look how badass my traumatized characters are for having killed someone" route, and I just... I read a book I enjoyed! Okay! I'm still capable of that, you hear me!!

[strangeswift]

No when S5 comes out I'm going off the grid. You will not catch me on this hellsite until I've seen S5 in its entirety. So if it's V1 and V2 or weekly releases, I Will Not Be Here. Mutuals will have my discord in preparation for when I Go Dark.

[bluest-planet]

Ngl working on this chaiflower fic is fun. And not as like, creatively stumping as usual? It takes forever for me to write if I'm not in the mood but I've been consistently adding small bite sized bits throughout the week at my own pace while I worry about life stuff or work on other projects. It makes me feel like I'm actually making progress, no matter how small it is very day.

That said. I'm looking at the current 3k word count knowing with my entire heart and soul it's probably gonna have to be more than like. Double that at the rate this story is going lol.

Gotta love that character introspection and complex relationship interaction.

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

Sneak peak for "My Mom Got A Contract Marriage". It is scheduled to be released on December 24th.

[guinevereslancelot]

why do i have an almost date tomorrow 😬

[a-xo-lotl]

jesus christ stop shitting on baghera

you are not defending your fav content creator by straight up attacking her; you are just embarrassing them and their fanbase. you are not helping anyone by spewing hate at content creators. if they do something you do not like, just don't interact!! it's not that fucking hard. these are real people--not your fucking dolls. 

and don't forget that many of them are not fluent in multiple languages. this is a multilingual server that is meant to bring communities together. there will obviously be miscommunications, and you shouldn't be raging when it occurs. and dare i say, it's xenophobic to be demanding that the non-english speaking content creators speak english perfectly.

honestly so many of you just as bad as the dream stans. if you are not mature enough to handle minecraft roleplay you should not be watching it. go touch some grass or something. don't ruin this community by tainting it with malice and hatred.

[mcrmadness]

Well of course I cannot watch a TV series and browse its Tumblr tag without half of the posts being just people shipping characters with each other.

Gosh. Is nothing on this website ship-free? I just wanna see nice, neutral, canon gifs and not people's headcanons of ships. I'm not interested in those. I'm watching the series for the series...

[piraticalwit]

@twistedwit: five times touched:      ( five times the receiver touched the sender) the og baby

His cabin is dim, a dark haven for when the drops of sunlight that flicker across the water’s surface become too much for the gloom that has eased it’s way into the pirate’s heart, leaving beasts with slavering jaws where laughter and freedom once sang their song, and Hook tries his best not to notice the shadows that dance across the sweep of the other man’s jaw, not to dwell on the glimmer of a deep buried pain that he almost recognizes within blue eyes so akin to his own. Curved steel holds the knight’s wrist steady against the smooth wood of his desk, tongue pressing to the inside of one cheek as he focuses on each careful stitch, and it isn’t until the last of the thread is tied that Hook finally catches his passenger’s eye, expression nothing more than a simple shrug of one shoulder as he assures the sheriff’s master at arms that it will heal.

Later he tells himself that its the gold he was promised that keeps him in Nottingham, that dream of easy riches and a momentary respite that work like a siren’s song .. that it has nothing to do with the tall shadow of black leather that haunts the castle’s halls, nothing to do with the rumble of thunder that rolls from his throat each time one of the two deem the other worth speaking to... and when Guy’s gloved fingers brush against his own while reaching for the same goblet of wine, it’s the gleam of gold that fills Hook’s mind that night, that same luring treasure .. and he refuses to acknowledge that figure that sits in the corner of his thoughts, just on the edge as if waiting to be noticed.

Guy’s half conscious form is heavy, a weight that presses to Hook’s side as the pirate stumbles his way through Sherwood Forest, stubbled jaw set in a line of stubborn determination that not even lady fate dares defy. The blood that flows from the wound in the older man’s arm leaves a sticky residue on his neck, an ever flow of crimson that changes to a dark black and acts as a word of warning to the rogue that moves as fast as he is able, black boots slipping on a leaf strewn ground... and he’s so exhausted once they make it back that he barely registers the word that flitters through his thoughts as he leads the injured man through the castle halls to where help awaits. Home.

Things change in Nottingham. Routine becomes sufferable, even the heavy air no longer settles about his shoulders like a weighted yoke he can’t quite rid himself of... he hasn’t seen a single coin in months, his men argue in the tavern at night on whether or not their captain has finally lost his mind, has abandoned their way of life and is too cowardly to tell them... and it’s a different gleam of gold that dances across forget-me-not blues when he finds himself flat on his back in the training yard, dust from his fall carried in the air and tickling the sensitive hairs of his nose. Ringed fingers reach for the gloved hand that had pressed a blade against his throat mere moments before, clasping them tightly as if readying himself for Guy to pull him to his feet... but instead Hook gives a tug of his own, one black boot sweeping across the ground until the knight tumbles to the ground beside him. The grin he offers is a cocky one, an arrogant smugness as he mutters the excuse that no doubt has become as familiar to the older man as his name, and instead of blows from wounded pride .. blue catches blue and the two men laugh, laying in the dirt until every waiting soldier believes the heat has cost them their minds. Pirate.

The knight tastes like apple and mint and Hook chases the flavor like a starving man, heart quickening with each low moan that he coaxes forth with each swipe of his tongue. Later, when fingers dig into broad shoulders, sweat dampened bodies moving together in a rhythm that is as instinctual as breathing, a careful dance that he suddenly seems to have remembered the steps to .. Guy’s lips find his ear, warm breath ghosting across the shell of it .. and .. aye, there’s that bloody word again - the thunder of it travels through the hollow of his chest and stops the beat of his heart, vision catching white at the edges, and Hook knows he’ll never go another day without bloody touching this beautiful, perfect man ever again.. Pirate.

Bloody hell. 

[vivalavillain]

💕

{Honestly surprise me, LOL. I wanted to do this because I was curious!}

{Technically for your @japporsnippets}

How the once-King of Albion had managed to find himself in a galaxy far, far away was still a mystery, even months after he'd arrived on a small blue planet in the Chommell sector. He'd recovered most of his memories of his time before, of a world threatened by an invading Darkness he had once tried his best to stop. The memories had surfaced over time, the amnesia most likely a result of whatever accident had ripped him across time and space. He still had fragmented memories of an expedition south to Aurora-- back to the place where his horror had all began-- as he searched for the breach in the world where the Court of Shadows had pierced the veil between theirs and his. He remembered screaming-- though not whether it had been his own voice-- blackness and then a brief moment of clarity as a foreign blue sky came into view for all of many two and a half seconds before he'd passed out.

When he came to, he was in a medicine house, being cared for by healers. He'd had no memory of who he was or how he'd gotten there and he matched no records of a missing person anywhere on the planet. He was treated, at first, with no small amount of suspicion as tensions had been high since the crowning of the new Queen and the Separatist movements. He could have been, for all they knew, a very crafty spy or assassin and, for all he knew, they could have been right.

As time passed and it became clear he wasn't a threat, he'd been allowed to leave the care of the healers and venture out into the world. Naboo, they called it, and it came to be a place he could call home. He had no skills to speak of beyond those taught to him in his years as monarch-- fighting, fencing, hunting-- and over the months he spent there as a guest in a prominent family's home, he began to consider it his home. His new home, the place he'd been searching for since the end of the attack in Albion. On a whim one day, not many weeks before that very night, when the need to feel useful and helpful to the kind people who'd opened their home to him could be ignored no longer, he signed up to be admitted into the army.

It was a grueling process and he was tested in any number of ways, most of which he'd failed-- he could neither read nor write the native language and had never learned Naboo's history outside of the most recent events involving the Trade Federation and the recently inducted Clone Wars-- but, in the end, with a recommendation from the head of the healing house who'd treated him and the matriarch of the family he'd been staying with, they had given his application the stamp of approval. He had two weeks, they'd told him, to get his affairs in order before basic training would begin and he had taken less than half that time to do exactly that. (With so little to his name beyond the handful of outfits the family had provided for him, it hadn't taken long to prepare himself.)

As the day of his departure drew near, he found himself oddly giddy for the first time in more years than he cared to remember. There was a party being held to ring in the new year the night before he was slated to leave and he'd been invited to attend the grand gala as a last hurrah. Donning his best ceremonial robes, he'd wandered the party most of the night with a single drink in hand-- one he never fully drained even as the hours ticked by. As the hour drew late and the crowd began cheering for the chime of the clock, he found himself in the company of a pretty brunette he only recognized from the holo-caster news segments about the goings on in the Senate. She was alone-- which surprised him, given how lovely she was-- and she'd smiled politely when their eyes met.

Suddenly, the gongs began to bellow as the new year had officially begun and he found himself standing awkwardly as couples embraced and kissed to ring in the new year. Backing up slowly to avoid any unnecessary contact with drunken strangers, he stopped as he bumped into the woman from earlier. He stammered somewhat, stumbling over an apology as he stepped away to keep from knocking her over.

"Forgive me, Senator. I didn't see you there." Draining the last of his beverage at last-- it seemed appropriate given the lateness of the hour-- he cleared his throat and set the drink down on a nearby table. The gongs had just about finished ringing and his gaze darted this way and that, as though to keep from staring openly at her. As a drunken couple weaved through the crowd, a man knocked roughly into him, forcing him back towards the Senator. Logan shoved his hands outward to brace himself against the wall behind her, equal parts shielding her from the carousing of the crowd and blocking her in. He grumbled softly under his breath, certain he was making the worst first impression imaginable. He bent his head then, offering a strained, apologetic smile through scarred lips.

At last the passing crowd seemed to dissipate and he was able to pull his hands away from the wall. He straightened himself and his robes, dusting himself off in a haughty manner belying his former royalty. Brushing gloved hands back through slicked back locks, he huffed and threw a glare in the direction of the revelers.

"Honestly..." He muttered under his breath, taking a step back to put distance between himself and the Senator. Swallowing thickly, he finally looked back at her, light eyes searching her face to gauge her reaction. He bent his head in deference, sliding a hand down her arm to lift hers up to his mouth where a gentlemanly kiss was placed upon her knuckles.

"Forgive me, my lady. I hope this lowly stranger didn't ruin your evening. May I be the first to wish you a prosperous new year."

[james-stark-the-writer]

writing annotations for sources is one of the most annoying things ever and i just spent the last hour writing 15 annotations and now my hands hurt like hell and i wanna end it all bc i literally turned the assignment in with 1 minute remaining (and several annotations had to be compromised to get it in so i'm also sad i turned in subpar work, even if it's better than no work at all) and i still had work to do for a few of them, and a few typos slipped past and i even got 2 citations wrong.