#i'm going to subject you all to them too!

[emoisthenewemu]

YUTA OKKOTSU SMAU SERIES

SUMMARY: My man! My man! My man!

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You don't think you've ever felt this nervous in your life. You sit on your bed, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket as you pick at the skin at your fingernails. Heart pounding so loud you can hear it, taking deep breaths in and out. Somehow, the anticipation of knowing you and Yuta are about to confess to each other—finally certain that the two of you are on the same page, makes it all so much more nerve wrecking. So many things can happen now, what if it ends bad? What if things don't work out and you go back to being strangers? How could you ever be okay with that? And although you are ninety nine point nine percent positive he likes you back (because, duh) there will always be that little voice in your mind which works hard to convince you that you are about to embarrass yourself.

So when you hear someone fumble with the door handle, having left it unlocked for him you swear the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. In he walks, in baggy pajama pants and some graphic tee shirt of a horror movie you've never seen, his hair is rustled, a small smile on his face as it feels like all the negative thoughts have left his body.

All except one, an idea which cannot be entertained right now.

You can't help but laugh at the idea that this is the boy who is making you feel so nervous that your hands tremble, you clasp them together in an attempt to keep your cool. He doesn't look so intimidating as he saunters over, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist.

This hug feels more intimate than others, the closeness at which he holds you leaves not a single gap of space between your bodies. His head nuzzles itself into the crevice of your neck, exhaling a deep breath that feels as if he had been holding it the entire day. "Yn" Is all he says, almost as if to remind himself who the hell is latched onto. His hand slides to your hip, you watch curiously as he untucks himself from the comfort of your soft skin. "I like you"

Oh, he is wasting no time. You expected to dance around the subject a little longer than this. Your breath catches in your throat, unable to say anything.

"And I'm tired of.....hiding from it" Lying is the word he would rather say. The confession is on the tip of his tongue but he cannot find it in himself to do it. Especially not when he is finally certain he may have a chance with you. He would do anything for just a moment of your time. "I've liked you since I started at this school...and I thought if I would just ignore it that it would go away. Or maybe I'd just wait until we graduated but by then you'd probably have a boyfriend which means I'd never get a shot but I was fine with that. I-I've never been with someone before. I don't know how to be a boyfriend but I want to learn for you. I wanna buy you flowers and make you feel special. I want to be the only person who makes you feel that way"

You are silent, too quiet that it makes him nervous. You aren't even smiling, just staring right at him. "Are you sure?" Out of all the things you could have said-he is confused that is the reaction. As if the speech was not a plea enough.

He practically laughs in your face. "Did you not hear  a word I said?" He wipes his sweaty palms down the side of his pants again. "Is the sky blue?"

"Well don't be a smart ass" A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, cocking your head to the side as you study the way it seems like every part of his body has tensed up in anticipation for an answer. "A-and Rika? She's okay with it?"

The fact that it would even come across your mind to ask a question like that lets him know that he is choosing the right person for him. You are so considerate and kind hearted, it is the thing he admires most about you. "Of course she is" He stops for a moment to think. "If she wasn't then I think we'd know by now"

The boy takes a step forward, heart beating fast but his mind feels calm. He brings a shaky hand up to cup your cheek and leans in—until he pauses and takes a shark breath in. Furrowing his eyebrows, he tries to fight the quiver of his voice. "C-can I kiss you?"

You gulp, suddenly back to being the shy one. Maybe the two of you can bond through that awkward feeling. The fine line between rushes of emotion that make you bold before reverting back to your usual self. Things with Yuta have been a rollercoaster to say the least, you'd like to indulge in the fact that you finally have what you want.

So before you can even let the words leave your mouth you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss that certainly takes his breath away. Uncertain of where to put his hands, they rest uneasily at his sides. When you pull apart they gravitate to the place they need to be the most, cupping either side of your head to ensure he can get the best view of every square inch of your face.

Breathless, he speaks. "You're the most beautiful girl in the whole world yn"

You are honest in your emotion, a thing you have always cowered away from until now. Perhaps it is a growing point for both of you. He showers you with compliments the rest of the night, gazes into your eyes with nothing but pure adoration as you rub the skin on his aching forehead. He always looks so exhausted when you see him, it makes you worry.

So you make a promise to yourself—and to Rika. As Yuta lay asleep on your chest, your manicured nails lazily scratching his scalp you say it out loud, just to make sure she can hear you.

"Rika....I promise I'll take good care of him" You can feel the slight shift of cursed energy wavering through the air, as if she is trying to communicate something to you. "I have enough room in my heart for both of you"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

TAGLIST: @loveyislost @ravenbc @practicoi @chiefinvestigatoremma @gradmacoco @yuzurixx @pumpkintoad @digitaltrippers @sexylexy12 @sttaejoon-blog @galactacium @kekeanna266 @jfbwiwndinrkaidbrnskzhr @2dmenfr @love-me-satoru @kaidostwin @timascorner @artsjiwoo @underlinedkasis @lightbluefog @seleyaaaa @isuckatmakingnames @restrictionsapply @domainexpansionmypants @masternutswag

@tryingtofeelbetteraboutmywriting @isuckatmakingnamess

LMK IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED!

[hedwigoprah]

A Word with Friends | June 2

Hello Hello! I'm finally back at it and writing for prompts again! Yay! I thought I'd hop back in with a word that y'all might enjoy. This week's word is one I've used before. Someone even called my use of it slutty which I then proceeded to print out and put on my wall to document the occasion you know who you are.

Don't worry though, I wrote something brand new to fit it, and all of the AWWF words I missed during the month of May.  I'm dropping this a little early cause it's technically also a submission for last week's word too. But no pressure, no rush.  SO! Without further adieu, the word for this week is:

Avarice

1. Excessive or inordinate desire of gain; greed for wealth 2. Inordinate desire for some supposed good.

My submission and tags are under the cut ;)  1.7k words jsyk

This particular work is all original, but it does reference Children of the Dark, so there are a few names you may not recognize. They're from Veryl's history.

Yeah?" Veryl called out as she sorted through the papers in front of her. When the meditation room had echoed with the knock, she had startled and tossed the stack she had in her hands. She stooped now to retrieve the scattered parchment. The door creaked open and Bellara's head popped out from around the corner it created. "Rook? Can I bother you about something? Just, if you have the time? I completely understand if you're doing something else." She still stood in the doorway, hand poised to pull the door shut if Veryl requested she leave. Veryl looked from the papers she had corralled into a somewhat organized stack and then back to her visitor. Others still lay out of her reach. So, out of frustration with the task rather than the interruption, she dropped the ones she had collected and decided to just pick them all up later. "Yes, please bother me." She stepped over the newly dispersed mess to pull the door open further and invite in her guest, waving her further into the room. Bellara brought with her some parchment of her own, along with a quill and an ink pot. It wasn't hard to guess at the motives behind her sudden visit. Veryl second guessed her choice, wary of how the fanciful would-be author had been speaking of her writing endeavors. Veryl wasn't sure she was in healthy enough place to be considered good subject matter. "What can I do for you?" Veryl closed the door and leaned against it as she considered her friend. She decided that something off-the-wall might be exactly the distraction she needed. "Well, first," Bellara started, and Veryl mentally prepared for the particular ten thousand words she would be inundated with. "I hope you don't mind but I was trying to write down that story you told us the other day, the one about the body swap? It was so intriguing, I just can't imagine not having it down on paper. I'll make sure it only stays in our records, but I thought it was worth remembering, you know? I ran into a bit of a roadblock though, there are so many details that I could never repeat the way you did. So I was wondering if I could pick your brain about it? Unless you want me to stop, and then I'll stop. I'll even throw everything I have into the fire so no one will ever find it."

Veryl felt her mouth slacken only a bit before she checked herself and corrected her features before they could betray her shock. Her eyebrows still shot up her face, something she couldn't prevent as hard as she tried. She also forgot what a normal amount of blinking should look like.

"You know what!" Bellara threw her free hand up, waving a finger about as she started to backtrack. "I shouldn't have even started writing it down. I knew it was private story and I should have let it stay that way. I'm sorry, Rook. I'll be going now." Veryl had to give credit to Bellara's perspicaciousness, already changing course because of Veryl's obvious unease with the idea. There wasn't an ounce of maliciousness or victim-hood in Bellara's words either, the apology was genuine she could tell that much. Veryl was already shaking her head as Bellara made for the door, reaching for the handle. On a laugh, she stopped the other woman from trying to leave. She placed a gentle hand on her arm and gave her a meaningful look. "I don't mind, Bellara, I promise." And Veryl thought a big part of her meant it. She was safe with these people. Bellara herself was in possession of this particular kind of effusive apricity that set a person at ease without even trying. For the next several hours, Veryl let Bellara pick and pull at different threads of the story she shared. Bellara was gentle with her questions and they never veered further into the weeds. Veryl was never required to divulge more than she already had. They sprawled out across the rug in front of the sofa. This time papers were scattered, but in an organized fashion that Veryl could not make heads nor tales of, but Bellara danced between effortlessly. Veryl talked about her teammates in vague terms, describing them only as characters in a story rather than people she spent a formative amount of time with. She spoke about Jeltje's gruffness, Heinrich's strength of character, and even Detre's cunning. In this moment, they were nothing more than descriptions and words, it was easier that way. "What about your other teammate, the one you don't mention very much?" Bellara was on her stomach, concentrating on writing what Veryl provided verbally. Veryl meanwhile kept her arms wrapped around one of her pillows, her fingers toying with the tassels that hung from the corners. "Nocturna?" Veryl clarified and Bellara nodded, lifting her face to give her full attention. Veryl didn't really know how to describe the most elusive member of her team. Nocturna had been mysterious and secretive at the best of times, and down right enigmatic and recondite at the worst. "I think Nocturna…" Veryl tried to sort out the words she knew that could even begin to describe the woman. "I think she scared me more than anything else." Veryl laughed at the absurdity of it. For all the malcontent spirits, child-sized bugs, and vile villains she had come up against, nothing could unsettle her the way Noturna could with just a withering look. "I wasn't exaggerating when I said she just appeared during the blood rain. She moved like… a susuration of a living person. You can't track her with your eyes or your ears. Even if you thought you felt her presence, for a second, like a chill up your spine, she's already gone." It was unnerving the way Nocturna had just flowed through existence. "She made me look like a clumsy baby, just learning to walk." Bellara gave her a confused look, as though she couldn't comprehend the idea, but kept writing anyway. "She was slick with a blade and killed without thinking twice about it. I was a weapon, sure, but she was poison."

Veryl finally took note of her own demeanor, having zoned in on a particular pattern in the rug that had started move as her vision grew blurry with lack of focus. She snapped back into reality before Bellara could notice her abstraction. "That's really all I can say." Veryl begged off when Bellara looked to her for more. She gave her a small apologetic smile. "That's perfect, Rook. I'll be able to describe her much better now." Bellara dipped her quill another time before reaching for a piece of paper that already had some other scribbles that rambled across it. "I just have one last question." "Shoot." Veryl allowed, tossing the pillow down and crawling to her own stomach. She propped herself up and watched as Bellara scritched new words across the paper in front of her. "What was the exact speech you gave as the Spectre? Do you remember?" As if she would ever forget those words. A warning she had since repeated, though perhaps in not so many words, but the sentiment was one that she had made sure certain persons would be sure not to forget. From somewhere deep inside the darkest parts of her soul, Veryl brought forward something that felt like a mockery of her evolution as a person. The Spectre felt weird on her skin, but still fit like a shadow she would never fully be rid of. In her best imitation of the ghost she once was, she repeated the words that had cemented her place as nothing more than Necropolis folklore. "I see you. I hear your weeping and groaning. The being you mourn would impart you with a final word. Seek honor, truth, and kindness and blessings will be your boon but if avarice fills your soul, you shall only find your doom." Coming back to herself, she gave Bellara a sanguine smile, relaxing back into her own current skin. Bellara returned the smile before she finished her latest line, sighed, and shifted positions to sit back on her haunches.

"You know," she started as she began to gather all of her papers into a single stack. "I'd really think that speech was much scarier if I hadn't seen Emmrich chase you to your room in nothing but your underwear." This time Veryl let her jaw drop open. "You…?!" True shock had Veryl sitting up and trying to cover herself as though she wasn't fully clothed. "It was the middle of the night, no one was supposed to be awake." Bellara danced around her eye contact with Veryl, her eyes shifting in nervousness as she spoke. "Let's just say that I know I wasn't the only one not getting any sleep." Bellara was quickly scrambling to her feet, dodging the pillows that Veryl playfully threw her way. "But don't worry! I definitely didn't write any of that down!" Veryl paused in her cushion assault to question her friend, "Really?" Bellara had moved quickly, nearing the door with alacrity Veryl only saw her move with in the field. She was very near the door when she turned to give Veryl an answer. "No, I lied." She grinned sheepishly, a crimson blush dusting her cheeks. "I wrote all of it down. OkaythanksfortalkingtomeRook! Haveagoodeveningbye!" Bellara was out the door before the final pillow could hit it's intended target. Instead it thudded against the door that had been slammed shut and fell uselessly to the ground.

Gentle, loving tags for you my friends: @strugglinggranola @serensama @tkwritesdumbassassins  @tacoteddy22 @thecraftybaroness @himluv @notyourmamasdeerbat @bubblecat-co @mythals-whore @operative-arrow @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @seaglassmelody  @davrinsleftpectoral @biowaredisasterbisexual @woundedsoul12 @jenn2d2 @arisofsky, @kai-dimir, @purple-frost @pixiedurango @thedissonantverses

Happy writing folks!

Trivia for your time: The average golf ball has 336 dimples

[lovemedarkly29]

excited about all your WIPs but I'm quite curious about Fools and Kings along with Modern Magic AU!

Thanks for asking! Already answered about the modern magic one, but Fools and Kings is a canon divergent AU where the Apostasy was successful and Xaden is prince of the new kingdom of Tyrrendor. He bonded Sgaeyl two years ago and now Violet, who is in her first year in the Riders Quadrant at Basgiath, has just bonded Tairn.

Because their dragons are mates, Violet and Xaden have to meet up every weekend, taking turns venturing into each other’s kingdoms so their dragons can meet. Even with allegiances to opposing kingdoms, their lives are dependent on each other’s survival—and so their bond grows too.

I think I might switch to first person Violet POV, but here’s the excerpt:

“Two dragons?” He asks as he takes her arm gently in his, studying the angry gash across it. “Did I hear the whispers right?” “Yes,” she says. “The empyrean has to deliberate but, I did. I bonded two. Tairneanach and—” “Tairn?” He interrupts. His face drops in shock, and Violet looks back at him in confusion. “You?”  “Yes, Brennan,” she says back to him a little more firmly this time. “Don’t look so shocked, I figured you of all people might give me a little credit.” Violet tries to hide that she’s a little hurt by Brennan’s reaction. So many in her life underestimated her, wrote her off, but Brennan had never been one of them. He’d seen her stomach a ridiculous amount of pain, knew she could learn almost any subject in a heartbeat. He’d never counted her out. “I know we’re an unlikely pair, but he chose me. And so did Andarna. A golden feathertail.” “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s not that I’m surprised that he chose you. It’s just that—“ he swallows, looking down at his hands for a moment. “Well, I knew his previous rider well.” Violet had forgotten that piece of information, but of course she should have thought of that. She remembered now that Tairn’s last rider was a siphon, one who had worked with Brennan closely before siding with his fellow Tyrs during the war.  “And Tairn has a mate, whose rider is the Prince of Tyrrendor.” Now that part is news to Violet, though she knows that mated pairs are rare amongst dragons. She also knew mated dragons couldn’t be apart for long. “So things are going to be—a little more complicated for you,” Brennan finishes.  Violet can’t help but laugh. Because when has anything not been just a little extra complicated for her? Born weaker, smaller than the rest of her family, with unusual hair that made her stand out as the youngest Sorrengail in any room, she’d never been given the easy path. She’d never blended in, never faded into the background —so why should her life as a rider be any different?  “Care to elaborate on how this is going to work?” Violet asks Tairn.  “The details of how will be arranged.” They’d only been bonded for a few hours, but his voice in her head was already a comfort. “Traveling to Tyrrendor every few weeks is a small price to pay for having me as yours,” he says.  Right.  While she already knows in her heart that Tairn is right, Violet wonders what it would be like to have such an ego, to be so self-assured. 

This will probably be my next long fic!

[ladymikainwonderland]

Hello! You may have seen me here already, but I made a new account because I wasn't comfortable with my old one. Here I want to post the drawings I'm happy with and not rush myself. I will try to reblog and interact more with this new blog too I'm a shy and awkward mess though, but I'm trying my best!

Here's my main Twisted Wonderland OC, Mika! She's a girlfailure and I love her for that.

I have two AUs with Mika— one were she takes the place of Yuu, and another where she's a mage. This post is about Yuu!Mika~

More info about her under the cut!

Mikaela "Mika" Corvus 🪽

✦ Nicknames: Mika, Sea Bunny (Floyd), Mademoiselle Nuit Blanche (Rook)

✦ Grade/Class: 1st year/Class A (student n°4)

✦ Birthday: June 14 (Gemini)

✦ Age: 17

✦ Height: 162 cm

✦ Dominant hand: Right

✦ Homeland: ???

✦ Club: Board Games Club

✦ Best Subject: Flight (w/technomantic broom!)

✦ Hobbies: Reading, watching anime, videogames, listening to music (aka basic introvert hobbies lol)

✦ Pet Peeves: Physical contact

✦ Favorite Food: Cheesecake

✦ Least Favorite Food: Salad

✦ Talent: Singing

✦ Personality: Grumpy, stubborn, distrustful. Usually sleep-deprived. Easily irritable. Has a soft heart she tries to protect at all costs. Has a hard time talking about her real feelings. Puts on an hostile façade and doesn't let anyone step on her. Feels that all the overblot mess is somehow her fault for some reason.

✦ Backstory: Mika is daughter to a single mother. Her mother was always overworking to be able to provide for them both, and was almost never at home. She considered Mika a burden, though never said it out loud. Mika was bullied at school due to her shy and awkward behaviour, but never told her mother since she didn't want to put more weight on her. One day, Mika decided nobody was going to step on her anymore and snapped back. She started getting into fights and developed an aggresive behaviour. She fought with a baseball bat and was considered dangerous by her peers. A week before the carriage hit her, she cut her hair and decided to start anew. And oh boy, what a new beginning she had...

✦ Likes:

-Astronomy

-Scrabble-like games

-Romance novels (secretly)

-Shiny trinkets

-Gothic/punk/alt fashion

✦ Dislikes:

-People staring at her

-Cooking (would rather starve than cook)

-Getting her clothes dirty

-Being bossed around

-Azul Ashengrotto

✦ Trivia:

-She's a year older than a regular freshman.

-Has insomnia to a degree.

-Has noticeable dark circles.

-Always forgets where the ghost camera is.

-Doesn't let everyone call her "Mika". Some people don't care and call her by her nickname anyway lol.

-She's an OC, not a Yuusona nor a self-insert.

[alicelillianshaw]

Again, that surety of Jack's. Always so certain. Steady, despite the quicksilver nature of his.

He wanted her to borrow his copy despite how important the book was. And it makes Alice melt.

That same surety is infused in his voice at his next declaration.

'I know I'm going to like your work more than Oscar Wilde. Harper Lee. Tolstoy. Shakespeare. All of them.'

Man.

Alice's parents were the most loving, most encouraging people on the planet— they praised Alice and her aspirations at every turn.

She would be eternally grateful.

And, somehow, every word of Jack's was somehow ...more affirming. It struck her, affected her like nobody else's praise had ever had.

It's almost difficult to comprehend, the affect he had on her already, but the truth of it slice's through Alice like a cleaver.

All of them.

She grins so wide it hurts.

"You're so crazy."

"You're too nice to me. You're so fucking crazy that I'm gonna recommend you for an evaluation for something. You're so crazy you're making me question the validity of your Yale degree."

A beat, and Alice leans back. Swallows hard, and tells herself to hold it together.

It's considerably more difficult to hold it together when Jack brushes at her cheeks— so fucking tenderly — and tells her not to cry on their date.

God.

All Alice can do is to take another sip of wine and look at eyes that only see him.

Study the way he dips the mushroom room, watches the way his throat moves when he swallows. Alice takes another bite of his mother's beloved duck.

'She's kind of the reason I'm such a food snob," he revealed. "I'm not … really a food snob. You know how I feel about Uncrustables. But my mom didn't cook, and we had this really great chef when I was growing up. She was always asking him to make me paella and grilled lamb chops. She created a monster.'

Oh. My god. That was too fucking cute for Alice— the idea of little Jack tucking into a plate of paella and tenderly grilled lamb.

She giggles, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Not a food snob, no. But ... an enthusiast. I think the only person who would have gone to the effort of making me homemade potato chips was someone who grew up eating paella and grilled lamb chops."

And what kid liked lamb? It was so fucking endearing, the idea of little Jack and his elevated tastes.

"Whenever I see you cook it looks like you belong there."

God— when Alice had seen Jack with that towel flung over his shoulder. That had almost been enough to send her into hypertension.

But at Jack's question, she laughs. Laughs to remember the complete bedlam of her childhood.

"Mmm. We had a rotating schedule," Alice says, grinning as she remembers the brightly colored chart affixed to the side of the fridge. "My mom would be grading papers sometimes. Or my dad would be away at a field study. So me and my sisters would each have a night where we had to cook, to make it equal for everyone, I guess."

"The rule was we weren't allowed to complain about anyone's first try at a recipe." Alice smirks.

"And Victoria went through this fucking vegan phase, so we all dreaded Tuesday because this crazy bitch would subject us to the most insane seitan concoctions— like she would make buffalo 'chicken' grilled cheese. And the cheese was rubber. It was car tire! And I had to sit there at that fucking table and not say anything because it was a hostage situation for everyone but Victoria."

Her lips twitch. Absolutely disgusting! And yet, despite the slew of failed recipes — some of them belonging to Alice — it had all been very fun. Even the bickering. Especially the bickering.

Alice grins, and wished she could project her own memories out onto the wall for Jack to watch.

"Shockingly, I complained that my one night of cooking a week cut into my reading time."

"I'm so sure," Jack replied, with absolutely no hesitation. If anyone was going to take great care of his copy of the Art of War, it was Alice. He wouldn't trust anyone to care for it the way she would.

It was a little funny how easily Alice had won his trust. If anyone in the Kennedy family had seen how quickly things had escalated over the last several days, they would've popped a vein cautioning Jack about all of the ways things could go wrong.

They would've urged Jack to put his defenses up, to disclose only the necessary to Alice, nothing more.

But God — he was so glad he hadn't done that. Was so glad he wasn't doing that.

"I know I'm going to like your work more than Oscar Wilde. Harper Lee. Tolstoy. Shakespeare. All of them."

Jack had never been so sure about something in his life.

The lamb was perfectly cooked. Still steaming. He sliced a piece off with his fork. The cut of meat practically dissolved between his molars with little effort. It was delectable.

He smiled, mouth closed, as Alice tried the duck. It was so good she could have cried.

Jack reached across the table, thumb gently caressing beneath her left eye for a split second, before retracting his hand.

"Don't cry," he said, swallowing. "Not on our date."

He focused on the sautéed mushrooms next, dipping them into the sauce on his plate. Another favorite combination of Jack's.

"She's kind of the reason I'm such a food snob," he revealed. "I'm not … really a food snob. You know how I feel about Uncrustables. But my mom didn't cook, and we had this really great chef when I was growing up. She was always asking him to make me paella and grilled lamb chops. She created a monster."

There was a pause, because while Jack did want to tell Alice everything about himself, he didn't want that night to be all about him.

"Did your mom or dad cook a lot growing up? Or your sisters?"

[cacodaemonia]

This is mostly a question for folks I know or have interacted with, so I'm hoping it doesn't break containment and get me screamed at by randos, but I see posts like this one sometimes and just... really hope people aren't downloading and making copies of my fics and art without permission??

I know it's a tricky subject and I'm very much in favor of AO3, Open Doors, and other fanworks archives. Fandom is a part of culture. It's important to study, and it's also great for people to be able to reread (and re-look at/listen to) their favorite fanworks.

I also realize that once you've put something on the internet, you no longer have any control over it.

However, this recent push to download and makes copies of others' fanworks edges a little too close to art theft for my liking.

As someone who's been making fanart since the 90s, I've had my images stolen more times than I can count. And while it's worse when other people use it to make money, it also REALLY REALLY sucks when they pass it around with little or no credit given, talking amongst themselves and never saying anything nice to me about it. I've had people do this in Discord servers, on Tumblr, AO3, Instagram, tiktok, Twitter, Pinterest, and doubtless other social media. In my opinion, all of that is art theft.

Fan creators have the right to delete their works—hell, I deleted all of my art from Tumblr years ago and have also deleted lots of older images from AO3. Yes, I could orphan them, but then I would lose all control over them, which is the opposite of what I want (I know that deleting them from Tumblr only removes them from my account, but that was the best I could do). If I delete something from AO3, I think it goes without saying that I don't want other people distributing copies they might have made of it. And I don't think that's unreasonable?? But I've seen numerous cases where fan creators have deleted something, and then other people start passing around files of the works, which just seems deeply wrong to me?

Another reason I personally don't like it when people copy my works without permission is because I edit my published fics and art sometimes. So if someone downloads them rather than going to my AO3—where they might be more likely to let me know they actually liked the thing—they'll never see any improvements or changes I might have made. Honestly, I wish it was possible to entirely turn off the 'download' button on all of my works just to make it a little harder to copy them (yes, I realize this would make it so Calibre doesn't work, but I think AO3's efforts to block spam and ai scrapers means that Calibre doesn't work anyway, so 🤷).

I do think fanbinding is a bit different, because the person using your work is making another fanwork out of it. It's transformative. They're not just printing it on shitty paper and stuffing it in a binder without asking your permission first—that's not transformative.

Anyway, idk, it's a tricky and nuanced subject. But I think the bare minimum that people can do before they copy someone's fanworks is to ask them for permission?? Isn't that what permissions statements are for? Even blanket permission is generally only meant to let others makes transformative works based on your works. I've never seen anyone say "yeah feel free to copy my stuff word-for-word or pixel-by-pixel and do whatever you want with it for all time." And that's basically what posts like the one I linked to above are suggesting.

So idk, what do y'all think?

[aalinaaaaaa]

An Ode to the Sacrifice

For Day One of Writecamp by the lovely @agirlandherquill !

For today's piece, I used this prompt:

A mossy castle

Below is a conversation between Namon and his father when he was 12, when they were hiking in the woods one day.

Word count: 547

—

A choir not for this solemn hymn. Hummed alone by a father on this trail.

Namon trudged an uphill climb on a path gnarled by gravel and roots. His father climbed ahead of him, his wiry figure obscured by the fog.

"Not too far more." His father had a grace to his footsteps, one with the path's uneven nature. Stones slipped beneath Namon's feet, a near acquaintance with the ground.

To his left, he veered under a stone arch blotted by ivy. Saplings sprouted from the ground, reaching towards a sky betraying hints of blue between the clouds. The four walls suffered degrees of crumbling, the remnants held by green, fluffy moss.

"Son," his father's voice echoed behind him. "Ah, you're there. Don't venture astray now."

"I won't." He went under one of the arches, taking a foothold on the narrow steps beside him. He latched onto the wall and pulled upwards, his steps careful and calculated.

The top of the stairs brought him to a withered wall. He breathed, gripping onto a larger stone.

On the other side, the brush of woodland descended into a veranda of fields and more forests far away. In the far distance, a few mountains provided the backdrop, the name of which he forgot. But his father's warnings, a stronger imprint, alleging the presence of an ancient Helindian court hated by Helinda itself. "Hey, Dad, come look at this for a view." He waved his father up, beckoning him.

The man smiled and shook his head. "I'm sure it is. It had to be, considering that ruin was once a watchtower. It's a blessing it's gone to waste."

Namon tilted his head in curiosity. "Why so?"

The man had a tendency towards philosophy, his musings a frequent subject matter.

He descended the steps, sitting on them, following his father's beckoning as he rejoined him at the foot of the old tower.

"Back in my youth, times were different. See that graveyard over there?" He pointed to the nearby plot of statues, stone visages of those long gone. "All those people and more devoted themselves to keeping Seldaika off our shores. For years there would be nary a day we would not have to watch our backs."

"Did they win?" Namon asked. People died there, at that exact spot. A tribute to a story he didn't know. The thought gave him chills, a cool silence hollowing his mind.

"They didn't lose." His father's face told a tale of its own, neutral in expression yet his brown eyes glassy and sombre, focused. "Violence bears no winners, everyone suffers from it. In part from their efforts, we don't have to speak Seldaikan."

"Do you think they'll come back? The Seldaikans, I mean."

An idle question, causing his father to flinch. The silence permeated through both of them, father and son, stood over an ode to the sacrifices made.

The look in his father's eyes made him wonder if he should've asked.

"If they ever do, consider it a dark day for us all — the entire continent." A breath, and a gesture, the latter which Namon repeated.

His father put a hand on his shoulder, firm but assuring, distilling determination in a squeeze. "Whatever you do, make sure the watchtowers never go back in use."

—

Tagging the General taglist for this (ask/comment/reblog etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart-deactivated20 @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @rae-butter @corinneglass @oros-ash3s @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @agirlandherquill @wyked-rebellion @unriding

(Also, I'll be trying to do these Writecamp prompts for as many days as I have the time, so if anyone wants to be tagged for those, let me know :D)

[aberooski]

○° Part of you, and a part of me

Close your eyes and you will see

It's not hard to believe °○

Trying to get back into drawing more again, and I wanted to really finalize these designs to where I'm actually happy with them, so here we are!

Sheets for each of the 4 girls with all of their parts and pieces for reference and just to look at how pretty they are! 🥰

Click for better quality as always, tumblr has it out for me in that way hahaha 😅

[lucalicatteart]

Cats and Nasturtium Flowers~ something which was going to be a custom sticker sheet (for me to decorate my scrapbook with) until I realized that most sticker printing websites have like Actual Guidelines you're supposed to follow in terms of file type of the image and other things lol.. A nice picture then, I guess at least

[longagoitwastuesday]

Every day I am haunted by the fact JJK could be amazing but it will be just idk Bleach or something

[sskk-manifesto]

Next time we should just skip over ep 3 and do a chapters 84-87 reread

[girltakovic]

hello upper middle class northern usamerican tumblr user. i want to play a game. you will notice that you are in a super america convenience store in rural kentucky - you have three minutes to purchase a snack and drink of your choice and make normal small talk with the cashier. however, if you use the word "cryptid" or generally make reference to appalachia and its inhabitants as "wild", uncivilized, or lacking restraint around alcoholic beverages during your time here, i will personally tie you to the chassis of a four wheeler and tip it into the river. live or die. make your choice

[fisheito]

@murdertramp25 replied to your post “excuse me blade, sir, drioid,maam, why are u so...”:

i stg Blade sneaks up on you like that tho!! im like 'haha yeah idk blade is okay i guess' and then i see him and im like '!!!! babey! baby boy!!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!!!'

​i'm stuck in a slow burn with all these goddamm pnjpegs and i don't know when the oh. is gonna hit this is a neverending daymare

[flufflecat]

half of his bodyweight is gonna be hair alone

[anonyanonymouse]

🙈

[sskk-manifesto]

ಥ‿ಥ