#if anyone has written this idea before

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[pastafossa]

How do you get past writer's block? I have a fic that I'm working on that is updating on a schedule, and I made the mistake of giving myself a month off in between parts and now I can't really get back into writing it. I don't want to leave it abandoned because I have a few people who I know are really invested and I don't want to leave them hanging, but I'm having a hard time getting as excited to write it as I did before.

Ok so I'm in a weird place for this, hilariously. Because The Answer That Usually Works For Me (TM) and that carried me through a regular weekly update schedule for almost two and a half years is, in fact, not at present working for me apparently my brain can write through a pandemic but not through recovery from the shit that went down in December/Jan so we found my writing kryptonite. However, I'm going to assume you're closer to 2021 Pasta than 2024 Pasta. SO LET'S GO WITH THE METHOD I NORMALLY USE SINCE IT WAS SUCCESSFUL FOR YEARS. Cause that's the thing: sure, I've written almost a million words, and pumped out chapters for years (ignoring the past few months) but I promise, I hit the same walls as everyone else even when nailing weekly uploads. But over those years, I came up with a fairly solid list of steps that I'd go through one by one.

Fun one first: when I'm in a block, I almost always try re-engaging with canon first. I'd rewatch my favorite episodes, binge a whole season, or even the whole series depending on how much of a boost I needed. For me at least that was often like Pavlov's bell, my favorite story triggering a flood of affection. I'd remember why I loved this fandom and the characters so much, and it could often kickstart my brain and excitement back into gear. If you really want to dangle a carrot and your fic touches on canon, focus on watching parts you're excited to get to in your story. A big one for me in TRT for example was the post-Nobu, Nelson v. Murdock episode, since I'd had that planned for TRT almost since the start, and I was very excited to reach the hurt/comfort I had planned. Even if your fic isn't following canon though, see if it'll give you a creative rush again!

So let's say step 1 doesn't work, either because the canon just isn't hitting the spot or because your fic is dealing with something else. In this case, my next step was usually to jump ahead to write a scene I was really eager to get to. It was often a short blurb, but it was always something I REALLY wanted to explore, and because I'm also a reader who likes exactly the tropes and plots I'm writing, I want to read what fucking happens. Except, fuck, I'm not there yet, am I? And I can't see how that scene finishes until I write my way up to it and finish it. This is my own carrot. Multiple scenes in TRT were written months or even years in advance, simply as a way to bribe myself. This is also an option!

But maybe this doesn't work. Sometimes it didn't. This is when it got a bit more serious. For anyone who was reading at the time, you'd have noticed that I'd sometimes drop side fics, either Matt POVs or one-shots. This was me, in essence, working on the shower principle (basically, ideas/solutions will come if you stop thinking about it and do something else, like take a shower). I figured if I went and wrote something else - either with less stress, or something fun and dopamine-inducing - the part of my brain focused on my Big Fic would wander around the writer's block beneath my notice. And it almost always worked, all while I still kept my brain trained that, hey, even if we're not writing This Thing, we're still writing.

But let's say this doesn't work either. You're well, and truly, stuck. Been there now and then. And, you're going to hate this one. I hate it but it works 9 times of 10. And it is: Write anyway. Half of it was spite. I was not going to give up my schedule, I liked my schedule. The other half was that I knew myself. I knew if I could just get past the chapter/plot/dialogue I was struggling with, I'd be able to roll along again. And so I made a rule: whatever I wrote didn't have to be pretty. It just had to exist. If that meant I wrote, "Jane chased the cat in circles and caught it. She was happy." then that's what I wrote. Because everything, EVERYTHING, can be fixed in editing. But you can't fix what doesn't exist. And so there were those nights when I would scowl and groan and snarl and bash my head against that writer's block until 5 in the morning, but in the end Jane chased that fucking cat adn caught it, it was written. Hilariously, sometimes those chapters have wound up amazing (likely because I spent so much time hammering at them) and reader favorites. There are absolutely, I believe, moments where you can, and should, see if you can push through.

But that brings me to *waves* now. A lesson I've only recently recently and with encouragement. Namely... sometimes brain no go and that's ok. My steps work for me 99.9% of the time, but I've done the above during the past few months, and it just... hasn't dragged me out entirely out of it yet. Sometimes, our brains demand that break, especially when things just aren't going great. There's a reason TRT had a break of roughly 2 years between chapter 4 and chapter 5 (feel free to check the chapter index with dates on AO3!). I had some life things happening and I just was not in a place to write, even if I was still busily plotting and planning and thinking about TRT behind the scenes. And that was ok. We're not machines. I came back like a bulldozer in Jan 2021, yes, and bulldozed through weekly updates, but that break was needed. And now I'm obviously taking a short one again while I recover from everything. It's ok if you're not in a place for it. So the last step is one I've been told a lot by dear friends recently as they helped me through this: be kind to yourself, and try not to stress if none of the above works. The story will always be there, and if TRT is any indication through all its highs and lows, your readers will be there when you start up again.

[caitas-cooing]

All those how to be successful in work and school courses are all the same and none of them are actually that helpful imho

[flyawaybooks]

shhh don't cry

cassmako Cinderella story, okay?

Euanthe is on the verge of death, Sokrates has betrayed the Apostolisian empire, and after Cassander, there's no heir to the throne. This simply will not do. The Apokine declares that it is time for their child to find a suitable spouse, and that there will be a royal ball open to all eligible citizens of the Golden Branch sector who can afford a transport to Apostolos and an outfit suitable for a royal event.

Mako is nobody. He's iteration 37 of an experiment gone mostly wrong. He's good at fogging, though, so the September institute has decided that he's their best shot at getting access to the inner secrets of the Apostolisian court. And, if it goes wrong? Well, there's more Makos where he came from.

Mako knows how to do this. Well. He did until about thirty seconds ago, when he crashed his Ring of Saturn directly into a finely-dressed Apostolisian and sent their bundle of dried squid-ink pasta and fresh vegetables tumbling to the streets.

"Seriously?" they snap at him. "Can you watch where you're going?"

Mako grins sheepishly and starts scrambling to help pick up the scattered ingredients.

"Sorry, got caught up with getting to my final destination as fast as possible, and I'm also a little lost. Guess I forgot to make sure the path was clear!" He hands over a bundle of formerly fresh basil, which is now decidedly squashed. "Uh, I don't suppose you happen to know where the Embassy is?"

The Apostolisian sighs. "Follow the market path past the next three crossings, and turn left at the fourth one. Keep going until you see the huge ostentatious building on the right, it's impossible to miss."

Mako finishes collecting a handful of what appear to be bright blue tomatoes and gives them back to the stranger. "Listen, I really appreciate it. And...yeah, sorry again, I got a bit carried away." He gives the Apostolisian a once-over, taking note of the well-pressed midnight blue tunic and slacks, the golden-brown skin, and the light dusting of teal scales scattered across their cheeks and over the backs of their hands. Their shoes look expensive, too. Upper class, then, or at least wealthy. Probably gonna be at the ball. "Hey, maybe I'll catch you at the big party this weekend, yeah? I'll save you a dance to make up for it!"

He reaches out a hand to shake the Apostolisian's, and then remembers that shaking hands with someone you haven't been introduced to is considered rude in Apostolisian society. He awkwardly pretends like he's fixing his hair and blushes a little bit, finally feeling the weight of his rapid-fire social failures. Great.

He's too focused on remembering the way he's supposed to be acting to notice the way the Apostolisian blanches at the mention of the party. Embarrassed and ready to make a speedy exit, he fires off one last, "Sorry!" before hopping back on the Ring and surfing away down the street.

Cassander now stands alone in the crowded market square with a bag of very rumpled groceries and a whole lot of questions about what just happened to them. But somewhere behind their initial surge of frustration, they find themself intrigued by this skinny, messy, clumsy guy who believes that he'll be attending the party. How did he get to Apostolos? He's clearly not a local. Dressed in a baggy pink hoodie and the shortest jean shorts they've ever seen, he also didn't seem to be a foreign dignitary. And yet he had asked for directions to the Embassy. What in the name of the Apokine was going on?

[themyscirah]

If Red Lantern Rankorr has 1000 haters one of them is me. If he has 100 haters I'm there. If he only has 1 hater that is me. If no one hates him I am no longer on this Earth. I hate Rankorr. Fuck that bitch

LMAOO going through my drafts rn and damn I really hated this guy. I mean I still do but idk this is funny to me

[humandyke]

help i’ve been listening to sweet by cigarettes after sex like on repeat as i’m writing this one scene bc there’s just nothing that quite fits it so well but i’m a FOOL bc that song came out in 2017 and death cup takes place before that 😭 so mad i didn’t check first would anyone destroy me if i put it on the playlist anyways

[lizhly-writes]

hoooo okay, i’ve learned one thing and that thing is i can absolutely be counted upon to write a tumblr post when i should be doing something else.  it’s like a terrible, terrible treat for me. 

today’s procrastination tumblr post: a mdzs au, because man have i been lost in the sauce.

so.  let’s start with mo xuanyu. 

mo xuanyu and his cultivation skills: well, they can’t have been very good, if he’s still here at his shitty aunt’s place, could they. if he was good, he could have taken off to be a rogue cultivator; if he was good, he could at least stop his cousin from so badly beating the shit out of him.  his life has gotten fucked six ways to sunday and maybe it’s depression and maybe it’s madness and maybe it’s helplessness in the face of an inevitable march to failure, but either fucking way?  he can’t do shit about it.

but you don’t need to be good at cultivation to be good at demonic cultivation.  is he good at demonic cultivation?  irrelevant.  doesn’t matter.  all he needs to be is good at one thing; all he needs is a steady hand and a supply of blood, and he’ll wring out every drop of it, everything he has for this one ritual.  he sinks his fingers in his own resentment and drags it out, shoves it in every carefully painted stroke on the ground.

that beautifully nightmarish array he’s drawn out?  he lights that fucker up.

it fucking kills him.

good.  correct.  this is only right. this is the expected outcome.

except it isn’t, because after that he opens his eyes.

it takes him years to truly comprehend exactly how he’s fucked up.  this is not because he is stupid; this is because he’s a baby.  his brain doesn’t have enough storage, enough processing power, enough focus.  you know how it is.

that’s right.  mo xuanyu is reincarnated.

this isn’t what he wanted, and once the full force of exactly what has happened to him hits him, he bursts out crying.  great heaving sobs like his heart’s been torn out, like the world’s wronged him.  a child’s body isn’t good at emotional regulation.  you know how it is.

he is quickly found, quickly held, quickly soothed, because in this life, he is not an unwanted bastard.  he is a child born of love; his mother presses kisses to his forehead and his father sings him lullabies, and it has been a long time since he has been this warm.

he thinks of the revenge he was aiming for.  did he successfully summon the yiling patriarch?  no way to know for sure whether this reincarnation of his was an intended side effect or a fuckup of such monumental proportions that literally all it did was kill him.

that said: it’s not like he can do anything about it, because he’s a literal fucking child.  an unusually intelligent child, because he has the memories of an adult man, but a child, nonetheless.  he has to set aside revenge for now. key words: for now.  we can’t forget this is the guy who fully intended to sacrifice his own soul to kill his family super fucking hard. it takes a certain amount of resolve to do that, and that can’t be so easily brushed away.

but for now, he is a wanted child, held carefully close, to be protected and cherished.  his mother tells him that he takes after his father, with his quiet, serious nature; his father tells him that he takes after his mother, with his intelligence and cleverness.  he makes new memories, full of laughter and life and light. he is loved.  there is so much love that he feels drunk with it.

this is perhaps the happiest he’s ever been. the future looks so wonderful, so bright.

so of course, it doesn’t last.

his father dies and his mother dies and mo xuanyu ends up on the streets, and this is worse, this is worse than his old life, this is exactly the fate he was trying to avoid back when everyone called him mo xuanyu, except now he’s a little kid and he can’t do shit.

at least he’s not being cursed at and run off for being cutsleeve lunatic.  it’s such a little thing, though.  is it worth it?  is it worth living?

not at all.

but his mother.  his father.  they wanted him to live well, they wanted him to live happily.  even if he can’t accomplish that much... he should at least make the attempt, shouldn’t he?

(and doesn’t he want to see if he managed to summon the yiling patriarch after all?  doesn’t he want to see if the mo family all died in the end?)

so he tries.  he tries and he tries and he tries.  what’s the best way to get food?  who can he steal from to get what he needs?  who does he need to run from, who can he run to? 

if he cries just right, if he laughs just right, if he smiles just right, if he lives for just long enough --

he gets good at it.  the right kind of demeanor, just the right kind of pitiful face to get coins thrown in his begging bowl.  one day he gets it perfect, he gets more coin in one throw than ever before from a rich man, and he thinks: I’m going to eat big tonight.

“thanking honored sir for his generosity!” he says, making sure to look the right kind of grateful, the right kind of pathetic.

the rich man smiles back at him.  “it’s nothing,” he says. and then: “what’s your name?”

it’s a bit of an odd question.  no one has wanted to know mo xuanyu’s name for a while. still, there’s no harm in giving it, so mo xuanyu goes to answer.

do you know what name i’m going to put in his mouth?  for all that he still half-thinks of himself as mo xuanyu, his loved mother and father gave him a name, too.

“i’m wei ying!”

[absolutelyarealperson]

Does anyone know a good Not Me fic that has the "two dates to the same dance" trope, but it's like White going to an Important Event™ with his father, but the gang is also targeting that event for their next mission?

I feel like this trope should be overplayed, but I somehow can't find any Not Me fics that use it. Maybe I'm just bad at searching though.

I feel like there's a ton of potential. Like maybe White is changing clothes in the bathroom and Sean walks in on him. And before he can even come up with an excuse they hear someone else coming and all of a sudden Sean and a shirtless White are pressed up against each other in a bathroom stall trying to stay silent so they're not caught.

Or like White doesn't have time to switch between contacts and glasses/drops his contacts on one of his quick changes, so while he's faking he's Black, he can only see like 2 feet ahead of him and he's trying to play it off to the gang like it's not extremely suspicious he didn't recognize his target standing right next to him.

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

Becoming obsessed with a new show is so insane like I'm not even finished with S1 of LR but here I am sitting with a 17,200+ word outline of a fic that isn't even half conceptualized along with five other +2,500 word outlines that also aren't half conceptualized and about 25+ fic ideas jotted down in my notes. I'm feeling completely normal about Lab Rats 🫶

[universestreasures]

Extension / Spinoff Of This Thread With @shacchou

🎶"Looking up at the sky with you, two bright shining stars call to us. Here we are, standing strong. Shining with our Buddy Lights..."🎶

The gentle and soothing singing voice of his friend was pleasant on the young boy's ears. Never in a million years did he think Tasuku had such a hidden talent, and yet here he is listening to him sing a song from the heart just to try and help him feel better. Then again, the Buddy Police Boy Wonder was good at a lot of things: Buddyfighting, school, investigating; just to name a few. So, him being good at yet another thing shouldn't be too surprising by this point to Mokuba.

He really was just like...Seto, wasn't he?

Drawing those comparisons between Tasuku and his brother was what the young boy had begun to do unconsciously since their initial meeting, but such things slowly became more and more common as he spent more time here. In fact, even now as he sits there listening to the other sing his tune, he can't help but visualize a younger Seto there soothing him instead, despite the fact Mokuba's never heard his brother ever sing before in his life.

Yes, the pre-teen seemed to embody the positive qualities that Mokuba associated with his elder brother from the past: warmth, gentleness, selflessness, compassion, happiness, protectiveness, honesty; all of those things he saw in Tasuku. Perhaps it was those qualities in him that had drawn the younger boy to seek out his help specifically during this time. After all, this entire situation came about because of his own feelings regarding the past, a past he can't seem to stop trying to chase despite promises of a prosperous future.

Such feelings did not change ever since being here. In truth, being around the blue-haired boy just made them stronger, the younger Kaiba feeling a semblance of what was lost the day he and his older brother were adopted. That just spoke though to a simple fact, a fact the boy knew deep down but did not want to admit to himself: that Mokuba had not yet fully accepted in his heart who his brother was today, in spite of their improved relations after Duelist Kingdom.

Mokuba wasn't so naive as to think that neither him or Seto wouldn't change over time. That would be nonsensical, especially considering the circumstances of their lives since becoming Kaiba's. No, what Mokuba couldn't seem to comprehend, and felt frustration and sadness towards, was why his brother was still...well...a stick in the mud, to put it nicely, long after their stepfather was gone.

From his viewpoint, that man was the sole reason for Seto's major shift in demeanor. So why did he have to keep acting so cold and grumpy now? Like he wasn't looking forward to the future he had been preparing for them all this time? The question went unanswered in his mind, no matter how much he tried to come up with an answer.

It had taken Mokuba some time to regain his own true smile after everything that's happened, no part in short thanks to Yugi's crew and his own he managed to make. He wants the same for his brother, to heal past the pain of Gozaboru's tryannny and be able to be as happy as he was prior to it. That selfless desire that seemed so far out of reach was a key part of why he was so hurt. He felt like his brother was just keeping himself miserable needlessly, overworking himself to death and isolating himself from and rejecting anyone who dare try to add some happiness into his life.

He just wanted his brother to be happy again like he was before, to play with games again truly for the fun of it and not in pursuit of revenge or victory. Was that so wrong to wish? To wish his brother could try to start to heal after the suffering they both went through, like Mokuba had?

Clearly, that sentiment was wrong. Otherwise, the elder Kaiba wouldn't have rejected his feelings that night so fiercely. In spite of his good intentions, Mokuba's feelings were burdening his brother, trying to drag him to a place he didn't want to go near for reasons not understood. It's something he's felt since a young age and seen time and time again to the point where he questions whether his inclusion in Seto's life was ever a good thing.

If Mokuba wasn't around, then his brother no doubt would have been adopted quickly and potentially not by a monster like Gozaboru.

If Mokuba wasn't around, his brother wouldn't have had to fight so hard to protect and care for him all the time, to secure a future for them both when securing one for a genius like him alone would have been easier.

If Mokuba wasn't around...perhaps he never would have lost his smile to begin with.

The very thought causes tears to come from his purple eyes, syncing up with the end of Tasuku's sweet song. His breaths came out shaky, unable to stop the floodgates from flowing. Without needing to think, his hands move to clasp the pair of lockets around his neck, as if he would die without doing so.

"Why...? Why?! Why am I such a burden?! Such a bad brother?!"

His voice echoed throughout the small apartment room, his voice portraying the inner pain he felt akin to being kicked in the gutts. Why did he have to follow Gao's advice? Why did he have to speak his mind and say such hurtful things? Why didn't he just let things be as they are despite wanting so much more, like he's done before? Why did he do something that would risk his staying in his brother's life?!

Perhaps taking that risk was why Seto had yet to contact him since he left. Because maybe he felt the same thing Mokuba was starting to think: that he didn't want him to come back. That way, his brother wouldn't have to entertain the younger boy's 'nonsense' anymore, and he could live his life without being reminded of the past he clearly was repulsed by.

Maybe...things were better off this way, after all...

"Mokie Mokuba."

The all-too-familiar voice reaches his ears, and an all-too-familiar touch can be felt on his shoulders. Mokuba opened his teary eyes slowly in response. In front of him, with his vision blurred by the water, he...saw him. He saw his brother, but not the one of the past, but of the present.

Did he come here to see him? Did he come here to take him home? Did he come here because...he still loved him?

"S...eto...?"

"You're not..."

"A burden or a bad brother." The illusion Mokuba's mind had created shattered with Tasuku's next words, as gentle as they were. The young Kaiba was now thrust again into reality, purple hues glancing up at his friend who had been the one speaking the whole time. Seems like his mind and heart were continuing to play tricks on him.

How cruel.

"Listen to me. You've done nothing wrong. It's your brother who has. Don't blame yourself for his mistakes." Mokuba is then pulled into the other's arms, him being comforted by Tasuku's warmth. "Never think you can't express how you're feeling or that it's wrong to feel how you do, no matter who tells you."

The embrace lasted as long as he needed to calm himself. After having cried himself to death, the older kid lets go, gently standing up from his position of sitting next to the boy in order to gently try and guide Mokuba to lie down once again. Once he is set, he watches Tasuku grab the blankets, scattered at the bottom of the bed, and attempts to tuck him back in, not realizing his method of tucking was not to Mokuba's preference (it was too tight). Still, the young Kaiba didn't voice anything to the contrary, for he had lost his voice from all that crying.

"Now, try to get some rest, okay? Gao is coming over tomorrow. He said he wants to have a game of Capsule Monsters with you. I'm sure you two will have a blast." Tasuku then moves to the door's exit, Mokuba glancing over at the soft smile he can see through the light coming from the rest of the apartment. "Sleep well, Mokuba. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me or Jack. We're here for you."

The door then closes, leaving Mokuba alone in the room whose only light source was a nightlight Tasuku had gotten for him. He reaches for his Blue-Eyes plush, hugging it tightly for support. It's then he reaches with one of his arms to open his own locket, staring at the picture of Seto inside intensely until he passes out from emotional and physical exhaustion.

[sorcerous-caress]

Astarion is like everywhere in this fandom - Shadowheart anon

He really is. I usually have to wait an hour or two before a new post gets even one note.

But the single time I add him in a piece, it soars through the sky. Literally immediate notes and reblogs, his fanbase doesn't fuck around in refreshing his tag.

[catinfroghat]

The severance video edit that exists in my head is so beautiful

[monogramsalarm]

i just reread all my saved ao3 comment emails and i’m like. ;-; i miss writing fic actually

[isatoru]

guys.................... i want yoshida so bad. the blorbofication process is nearly complete.... i may enter a brainrot any time now

[maximumzombiecreator]

It's often remarked how D&D 5e's play culture has this sort of disinterest bordering on contempt for actually knowing the rules, often even extending to the DM themselves. I've seen a lot of different ideas for why this is, but one reason I rarely see discussed is that actually, a lot of 5e's rules are not meant to be used.

Encumbrance is a great example of this. 5e contains granular weights for all the items that you might have in your inventory, and rules for how much you can carry based on your strength score, and they've set these carry capacities high enough that you should never actually need to think about them. And that's deliberate, the designers have explicitly said that they've set carrying capacity high enough that it shouldn't come up in normal play. So for a starting DM, you see all these weights, you see all the rules for how much people can carry or drag, and you've played Fallout, you know how this works. And then if you try to actually enforce that, you find that it's insanely tedious, and it basically never actually matters, so you drop it.

Foraging is the example of this that bothers me most. There's a whole system for this! A table of foraging DCs, and math for how much food you can find, and how long you can go without food, etc. But the math is set up so that a person with no survival proficiency and a +0 to WIS, in a hostile environment, will still forage enough food to be fine, and the starvation rules are so generous that even a run of bad luck is unlikely to matter. So a DM who actually tries to use these rules will quickly find that they add nothing but bookkeeping. You're rolling a bunch of checks every day of travel for something that is purpose built not to matter. And that's before you add in all the ways to trivialize or circumvent this.

These rules don't exist to be used, that is not their purpose. These rules exist because the designers were scared of the backlash to 4e, and wanted to make sure that the game had all the rules that D&D "should" have. But they didn't actually want these mechanics. They didn't want the bookkeeping, they didn't care about that style of play, but they couldn't just say, "this game isn't about that" for fear of angering traditionalists. And unfortunately the way they handled this was by putting in rules that are bad, that actively fight anyone who wants to use that style of play and act as a trap to people who take the rules in good faith.

And this means that knowing what rules are not supposed to be used is an actual skill 5e DMs develop. Part of being a good 5e DM is being able to tell the real rules that will improve your game from the fake rules that are there to placate angry forum posters. And that's just an awful position to put DMs in (especially new DMs), but it's pretty unsurprising that it creates a certain contempt for knowing the rules as written.

You should have contempt for some of the rules as written. The designers did.