#if i was a writer i’d be on That

[loaksreya]

i wish there were more miles quaritch daughter reader fics

[tryingonametaphor]

when they make byler canon i’m so sure that all the duffers are gonna say in an interview is “we’ve been planning this for a while. if you go back and watch the seasons you may pick up on some things you didn’t before” and just move on to the next topic

[writeouswriter]

Look, look, some of the deepest, most intricately detailed, real and profound media I’ve ever seen is also the stupidest, most ridiculous and strangest media I’ve ever seen, promise me you’ll get real weird with it

[perplexingly]

Something both sappy and silly I think the summer is getting to me

The water was still low and they could walk across safely

[cptnwynnie]

Normally, Edwin would probably find a piggyback ride very undignified, but landing in another universe is a rather tiring experience. So, extenuating circumstances and all that…

[ryderwritings]

“nobody will ever be interested in what i write!” false. i am interested. please tell me about what you write

[4catsinacult]

Listen I love Logan Howlett as much as the next person but why isn’t there more appreciation for some of Hugh’s other characters?

(Please I am begging)

[shortbreadly]

went a bit crazy over the weekend and apparently got over my fear of drawing perez

[ninacarstairss]

actually i’m not done with the poseidon stuff. i love all the changes they made and i love all the stuff they kept exactly the same. there’s a fourteen years old me somewhere in the past that is violently sobbing because she finally heard poseidon say the sea does not like to be restrained. there’s the child of divorce in me that is still reeling from last week’s episode with poseidon coming in a heartbeat when sally calls for him. there’s the little hopeful kid in me that is so thankful to the writers for changing the game so that percy missed the solstice deadline and poseidon showed up in a split second to save him, even if it meant surrendering and losing the war to his brother. and there is present me, who just heard poseidon ask his son if his mother taught him greek with that bewildered but actually more than knowing look, because of course sally jackson taught percy ancient greek. there is present me who heard a week ago that poseidon would be by his son’s side when the time came, and he finally was, not just in the fight with ares, because that was actually all percy, that was his powers and his wit. no he was by his side when percy insulted the god of the skies and nearly got himself blasted out of existence, and poseidon came right away just as he did for sally. and when percy finally asked his question, not even knowing how little it took for poseidon to show up in a cafe as soon as sally called all those years ago, poseidon looked at him with the pain of a lifetime spent apart, because how could he ever not dream about sally jackson?

[pupyr0arz]

To Color

to influence, especially in a negative way; distort or exaggerate.

Soap x m!reader: references to reader being AMAB, being a gay man, being in a gay relationship, etc. minimal pronouns. Part 1.

Summary: Every human on earth sees the world in blacks and whites and grey until they touch a specific individual, romanticized as their fates love. You don’t buy into that, you’re happy as you are and don’t need or want a stranger barging into your life just because your eyes decided they were important. Johnny disagrees with this conclusion.

warnings: Johnny is a bad, bad man, and reader is going to be miserable for a while, sorry. General cws for creepy, pushy behavior, sexual harassment, stalking, and Johnny not respecting Reader’s autonomy or ability to choose. More warnings may be added. Mentions of sex. Minors DNI

@gatlily @focalor-hydro-archon hey pst. Pssst.

Soulmates are overrated, overhyped, over-mentioned, over talked about. It’s awfully inescapable, in movies, in ads, on the news, in books, and the looks you get for complaining about it, like you’ve declared a blood feud on the concept. You just want some peace from the expectation and all the assumptions of glitz and glamor for five goddamn seconds, but lately that blood feud is looking mighty tempting.

Your cynicism in regards to fated lovers wasn’t part of anything dramatic, like in the movies where the skeptic always got revealed to be the child of a divorce caused by soulmates or something equally inane. Your parents weren’t soulmates, which was honestly average. Most people never met their soulmates and lived perfectly fulfilling lives. Soulmates weren’t the end all be all of love, and when they did show up they certainly didn’t all fall into the simple shapes a romcom would tell you.

Your father could see color, his soulmate was platonic in his cousin, the two of them were close friends and they lived just down the street. You’d come up on the porch while your cousins played in the yard and sipped sour lemonade and bother them about how colors looked, and they’d argue about shades and how to describe it. Your father always wanted you to meet your soulmate, wistfully regaling the first time he ever saw the blueness of the sky. Uncle Jeremy would just pinch your cheek and wave you off with a laugh. You had a really normal childhood, honestly.

You got tired of the game in high school, when blossoming hormones and teen drama rocked the school for weeks on end over and over about the same damn things. You were old enough to really have coherent opinions about the world, and fated lovers had turned from funny stories from your father and ads on tv to in your face irritants. One of your friends friends faked seeing color for two weeks to date a guy she really liked. You weren’t extremely close to either, you sat with them at lunch and watched them in periods and they seemed happy. He dumped her in a flash, and moped around school afterwards and all you could think about was why color seemed to matter so much to people.

It sounded fantastical, sure, you wouldn’t mind having an extra sense. You daydreamed about color coming to you in a whirl, setting the world alight in a billion lights, seeing things in new clarity and depth. It was hard to imagine, some other attribute lurking just outside of vision that stained the world in strange, vivid ways.

Bonded people opened museums, attractions built for viewing color in odd ways that blended and blurred together to your black and white vision. Hidden objects and paintings and other things that they cooed over, long essays about vibrancy and the million metaphors for color. You don’t really buy into any of it, if you could taste the crispness of a shade of ‘red’ then what’s the deal with feeling it with your eyes? You’ve eaten apples before, you don’t need to see the flavor to enjoy it. Why should you be so desperate to sacrifice so much, when you already have senses that give you joy?The thing is, with fantastical things is that they’re fantasy, they aren’t grounded in anything solid or real, and you weren’t enthusiastic to take that leap of faith and step onto open air and pray it was a trust fall, not a jump to your death.

You could live without color, and honestly thousands and thousands of people got on perfectly fine. It’s not like any part of society was really based on seeing color these days, other than the fine arts. You weren’t artsy anyways, you never managed to get into it. So what if you didn’t really know whatever ‘green’ really was, did it really mean the end of the world? the end of a relationship? Why would you throw away something that made you happy, something stable, for a complete stranger? Your mother was perfectly happy with your father, and she had never met her soulmate. What if your soulmate was a family member, or a friend? Why did everyone always hold out hope they’d find a perfect marriage partner, when it seemed like soulmate bonds could be something like a perfect smoking buddy to a perfect brother? Honestly, romance didn’t seem so dependent on the whole farce at all. You could build something that didn’t need anything but whites and blacks and all of the shades between. You might not be able to see the red of a rose, but you could enjoy the shades of gray that painted the world with someone you could trust to always hold your hand and have your back.

You dated a handful of people, most of whom were still holding out hope of brushing fingers with their ‘truest love’ to see the beauty in the world. As you got older, more likeminded people cropped up, less likely to vanish and ghost you to wander off on their ‘journey’ to find their soulmate. You had your first kiss, lost your virginity, moved in and out with other people. Relationships blossomed and fizzled and died and you picked yourself up afterward with the occasional thought of ‘Jesus, I couldn’t imagine trying to make THAT one work as my one and only’ before you carried on. But all of that was before, in the section of your life cut so neatly and sharply in two that it was hard to believe they were ever, or could ever be joined.

All before you met him.

You met him on a dating app, which was remarkable enough. It was built for quick hookups, but most dating apps that advertised themselves for long term relationships were soulmate based and you found that crowd to be endlessly irritating. He’s bi-curious, you’re the first man he’s ever dated and honestly that almost turns you off entirely. But you decide you have no better prospects at the moment, so what the hell.

Charlie’s cute, and he greets you with a nervous smile and can barely meet your eyes, he tells you with red eats that he’s ninety nine percent sure that he’s gay and that his friend has been begging him to just take them plunge and you nod and give him some dutiful advice. You’re definitely not looking to be a guys experiment, that rarely ends well, but he invites you out to dinner where he loosens up after a glass and goes on an impassioned rant about theater etiquette and suddenly things are actually interesting and you’re talking too loudly for the table over but you couldn’t care less.

He’s funny, nervous but out there and you talk about musicals you’ve never heard of and tv shows he’s never seen for forty five minutes before you reach across the table and grab his wrist. The sex is light, he makes you laugh through blunders like banging his head against the wall and you kiss afterwards and it feels light and sweet. It’s blissful, honestly, something you’ve forgotten you were missing at all until you’ve been handed it. You keep things non penetrative, he’s far from trying bottoming and you’re not a fan of being on the other side of it, and you have plenty of fun keeping him awake with all the other options. You talk to him again the next day, and then the next, and then his number is in your phone and you’ve been going steady for months.

Charlie isnt a perfect Prince Charming, he’s got his issues. He’s over the top and he pushes himself to meet standards and crumbles at the last second and you’ve had your fair share of screaming arguments. Work is stressful and some nights you go to bed in different rooms because you can’t stand dealing with him. You have your own issues and Charlie complains more than once, rightfully you’re forced to admit, about you being cold and reclusive when you get angry at him, and you’ve had to buy apology ice cream more than a couple times. But you have movie nights and kisses and cake together and a warm, building feeling in your chest. You go out to the zoo, try and fail to learn how to knit together and eat buttered toast with too much black pepper over the kitchen sink on Saturday mornings. You don’t get into anal but he gets really good at giving blowjobs, and those slept mornings spend kissing and exploring each others bodies fill you with a precious glow.

Charlie isn’t your one size fits all, but you’ve managed to find him a slot in your puzzle, and built him a home in your heart together. You love Charlie, and he loves you too, tells you so with cheesy flowers and you buy him one of those dumb necklaces that click together that you totally don’t love. He brings you lunch at work and you drive him home from visiting his parents, and your friends are fine enough with his to go drinking together every couple of times. His best friend does your tarot readings and gets an awful tattoo you laugh about together. You cry and he doesn’t

Life is good. It’s not effortless, it’s not magic, but it’s good because you made it so. You’ve pushed and pulled and made something with your bare hands, and you have the luxury to sit back and watch the alabaster glow of the sun brighten Charlie’s face into a million beautiful shades of gray.

Life settles into a comfortable rhythm, and soon Charlie’s inviting you as plus one to a wedding and you start thinking about rings and commitment.

That’s all before you met him, though.

It happens like in a storybook, so trite that hours after it happens you’re wondering if you suffered some serious brain damage. Maybe you got hit by a car, or had a delayed reaction to the weed your friend passed you last week, or something happened to scramble your thoughts into this strange new unreality.

You’re visiting the library when it happens, dropping by after your shift to pick up some new reading material, not looking where you’re going. Charlie’s texting you a million and a half recommendations while you’re planning on picking up some awful garbage to groan and complain about later while he makes fun of you, and you’re typing a dick joke involving one of the sillier titles you spotted on the shelves. You bump into him, not a shoulder check but you run into him like a wall and he barely stumbles back. You’re not a small guy in the slightest but he’s built like a brick shithouse, Jesus.

“Ah, hell, sorry man.” You apologize, giving him a sheepish smile. “My foul. I should watch where I’m going.”

He doesn’t puff up with anger or anything but flashes you a toothy smile, so you relax. “Dinnae worry ‘bout it, mate.”

Oh, he’s Irish or something, the accent is thick as all hell. It sparks your interest, a definite standout from the midwestern folks living here, and you don’t rush away to continue your browsing. You don’t walk away, like you should’ve, you don’t realize that in two years this will have become your biggest, most shameful regret.

He peers down at you, light eyes, ivory maybe? He’s got a weird haircut, some kind of half committed Mohawk thing. It’s an awful haircut, really shitty, so you politely avert your eyes from the active train wreck and send a prayer for any casualties, and realize you’ve dropped your phone on the ground.

“Ye dropped—“

“Ah, let me—“

You both reach for it at the same time, and your fingers brush, and the world changes, and you have all of a half a second to freeze in shock and confusion before you accidentally headbutt him and fall over.

Maybe he had a thick enough skull to really hurt you. You would know.

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Something something Agent Haldwell being from Jennifer’s movie something something probably her love interest something something they probably had weird “you’re coming with me little missy” kind of banter written by weird male writers something something Jennifer changing the misogynistic script something something drowning him in his own piss

[about-faces]

“… and I’m sorry for leaving you in the dark.”

[puckspoetry]

I’d just like to come on here and put it out there that Neil was dead long before the play. Literally look at any interaction he has with an authority figure (except Keating ofc)

[kusanagihaku]

it’s cool how jabberwock has all nature related names and how ren is no exception!!

his surname is the most interesting to me because 白波 can be translated as “white-crested waves”. pretty big waves!! and the fact that his name includes 氵too, which are water splashes. it’s ironic considering how much he hates the sea & aquatic stuff, and extra funny when you consider that his artefact is a life ring.

also, considering japanese family names can originate from either family occupations or natural features around their home, does ren’s family business have something to do with the sea / did he make his deal because something happened when he grew up around the sea? ren origin story pls

i think it’s also interesting that ren’s name 蓮 means lotus. it’s an aquatic flower that usually germinates in mud, i. e. something growing from hardship, which makes me curious to see if he rly learns anything from being in jabberwock.

it also matches up with his 五格 (name divination)! his 总格 reads that his life will be full of hard work, but things may not go his way no matter how hard he tries. he will always feel like he’s under a lot of stress. darkwick pls assign him somewhere else

on the bright side, his 外格 (6) reads that his friendships will be stable. he helps others when they need it and in return his friends will bring him even more luck and help him out wherever they can!! which is something we already see in the jabberwock chapter w him & calamari!! it also reads that although he doesn’t attract a lot of attention, he can stand up for himself. and we can see for sure with the way he resists haru LOL

also his 地格 reading (18) is SO HIM i suspect the writers might have all the characters’ divinations in front of them during character design @-@ it reads that he has a lot of dissatisfaction, and instead of working through them logically he tends to complain and doesn’t really know how to solve them hdksjsjsj?? it’s become a habit and now whenever he’s in a situation if he doesn’t complain about it it doesn’t feel right,,, which is so him,, relatable king

anyway happy ren day!!

[cheesecakethots]

u ever just reading a yan! fic and the dude is so imposing and scary and then says some shit like “call me daddy” … i am not doing that you loser

[calmlb]

one year since i posted my first skk fic which means…

one whole year of posting skk fics 🥺 tysm from the bottom of my heart to anyone who’s read, kudos’d, and/or commented on any of my fics… i’m so grateful 😭🥹

here’s to another year & hopefully many more fics (pray for my wip list LOL) 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷