#it's about the journey not the destination

[syndrossi]

Regret AU: Part 8a

A bit shorter: Daemon is faced with the unthinkable.

x~x~x

Daemon sat at last, legs shaking with fatigue from the sleepless stretch of flight he had taken upon Caraxes, and gathered the empty blankets of his sons’ bed in his hands. Gone. They are gone.

No, not merely gone. Stolen.

A strand of dark hair caught his gaze, and he plucked it from the pillow, stretching it across his hand, from fingertip to wrist. The anger had not found him yet, much of it spent on his ride to Gulltown. Instead, it was a wrenching sense of loss. A fear such that he had never felt before. What if this is all that I shall have of them?

Daemon seized the far pillow, hunting for a trace of his other son and finding it after several fraught seconds. A pale strand joined the other, nearly identical in length, and he clutched both in his hand.

“My prince,” Lord Grafton said, meek as he had been since his arrival. “Shall I have the fire—”

“Leave me,” Daemon said, his other hand closing around Dark Sister’s hilt.

Grafton disappeared without another word, and with the closing of the door, the room was plunged into near darkness. It did not matter. There was no other trace left of his sons. Every belonging, down to the last toy, had been seized by their kidnappers.

Volantis. He had not thought to dwell upon the source of the dragon eggs that had become his sons’ hatchlings. Perhaps House Royce had allied with Volantis, or perhaps not. Perhaps they had betrayed one another. But Ser Willam’s warning had been plain: Volantene spies within the city sought his sons. And Grafton had dismissed it without even attempting to verify whether it was truth or self-serving falsehood.

Grafton was adamant, in fact, that Ser Willam was a scheming villain, one who had orchestrated the drugging of the castle. It was a tempting fiction—one of but a handful of scenarios that might result in his brother giving his blessing to burn Runestone itself—but there was no reason for the man to write to Daemon at all about his sons. He could have simply brought them to Gulltown and boarded the ship that had borne them away. Volantis would have won her dragons without a fight.

Now, however—there would be blood. Blood and fire aplenty. Volantis is far, yes, but we have the Stepstones. The Triarchy will not interfere, not if the alternative is a strengthened Volantis.

Daemon stood and felt himself sway. They have half a day’s travel. Caraxes could make up the distance, but it would take all of his strength, and he had already been taxed by the journey here. Six hours, he thought wearily. We shall rest for six hours. It was not nearly enough, but rage itself could be fuel when all else was spent.

Grafton had wisely made himself scarce, so Daemon relayed his wishes through the knight in attendance outside the door. Perhaps one of the very knights who let my sons be taken.

A meal was brought to him in the nursery, which he ate mindlessly. Eventually, a sense of satiety from Caraxes trickled through their bond, and he knew that his mount had partaken of his own meal. Daemon wrote a brief letter to Viserys and barely recognized himself in it, his nightmare condensed down to a few simple sentences. He wrote to Corlys next; the Velaryon fleet, though depleted, would mostly be back at Driftmark by now. The rest would be in prime position to watch the waters around the Stepstones.

I have no notion of where they might have gone. Narrow though the Narrow Sea might be, it stretched from Braavos to Lys in the far south. He did not think the Volantenes would risk venturing through the Stepstones themselves, where aside from the Iron Throne’s own ships, the shattered remnants of Drahar’s fleet would be looking to plunder their way to relevance once more. They will go by land to Volantis.

Which left Pentos their likely destination. Braavos had no love for Volantis, but Pentos had always been quick to ingratiate herself with her sister cities, preferring to avoid conflict wherever possible. A fact that would work in his favor should his search of the waters prove fruitless, for a dragon was a conflict that any city sought to avoid.

I will find them. He had already begged for Rhaenys’s aid, and that of her children. Meleys and Vhagar—they will not allow my father nor my mother’s grandsons to be lost. A ship could challenge a dragon for speed by sheer nature of its endurance; a caravan by land could not.

A final sweep of the room uncovered a single toy that had been missed, tucked behind a chair in the corner of the room: a wooden horse with wheels and a string by which it could be tugged. Daemon carried it back to the boys’ bed, setting it atop the bedside table, next to the oil lamp that served as the room’s only light.

He had arrived in Gulltown prepared to unleash his wrath upon House Royce. That wrath might yet fall, and upon House Grafton as well, but the ache that crept up in his throat as he set his head down upon his sons’ pillows threatened to choke him. He hugged one of their pillows in his arms, curling onto his side, and slept not a wink.

x~x~x

Daemon hugging the only trace he has of his babies to his chest while reckoning with what it's actually like to be a father? You betcha. Next up: the chase!

[ultrainfinitepit]

Shop Update June 2025

Greetings followers, Angelic Hierarchy pins are now available on Shopify and Etsy. These designs were inspired by the nine planets and cosmic horror.

Dual Destinies: A BG3 Pin Series

I have a pin campaign launching this month, Dual Destinies: A BG3 Pin Series. This campaign features designs inspired by the good and bad endings for the Baldur's Gate 3 companions. Pins of other characters are available to fund as well. 

Dual Destinies is partnered with The Cats of BG3, if you pledge to both campaigns you'll receive exclusive freebies. Both campaigns are also part of Pin Quest, be sure to check out the other wonderful campaigns if you're in the market for fantastical pins. 

Sale & Shop Closure

I am closing my Etsy, Shopify, and Faire shops June 20. To help clear out items, I'm running a big sale: items are 15% off on Etsy, and 30% off on Shopify (discount applied at checkout). While my shops are closed, you can find my items with my stockists.

For now, I'm not planning to reopen my shops. June 20 will be the last chance to purchase any shop items from Etsy, Shopify, and Faire. 

I will still be making new items via Backerkit crowdfunding campaigns. You can follow me on Backerkit to be notified of campaigns, and I'll also send newsletter updates about them.

If you miss out on these campaigns, leftovers will go to my stockists. Between all of them they are able to ship to most destinations. If there's not any that ship to you, please check in your local area if there's any maker consignment or similar shops that could stock my items, and send them my way. I will be offering shipping to most destinations via Backerkit as well.

I won't say my shops will be closed forever - things can always change! But for now I'm going to try just campaigns and my stockists, and see how it goes. I'll still be sending out newsletters - about campaigns, new items, and other artistic endeavors.

Thank you all so much for supporting UltraInfiniteShop and the next chapter of my art journey. That's all for this update, have a joyous June!

[kiyrian]

I'm going insane over the different versions of people in Expedition 33. Let me start with Clea.

Clea the eldest - the most ambitious sister. She takes it upon herself to fight the Writers for what they did to her brother. A brother she both hates and loves for sacrificing himself for their younger sister. She used to love the painted world until the real world, the adult world made her lose any semblance of sentimentality. For all her joy and love of Francois and gestrals, after Verso's death she only lets herself indulge in his creations when she needs them for some other goal. She's cruel to Alicia but continues to care for her - hiding her sister in a painting so she doesn't suffer more damage in the oncoming fight but may never want to leave seems like a fitting form of love and cruelty on her part. She doesn't care for the painted version of herself but uses her to further her goals. She uses the painted version of her brother to care for her still living sister (while also taking the Painted!Clea away from him). She is ruthless but she is loving

Emma the eldest - we don't know much about her. A version of an older sister the Paintress offers to her daughter or maybe Mealle is always destined to find a sister and a brother. Just that she too stays behind in the "real" world while her siblings go on a journey. She is a part of the council, the person that takes care of the everyday problems. She seems gentler than Clea, with less hurting edges - although we never learn how she would change after Gustave's death. If Emma has a future, Mealle will make sure Gustave is in it.

Clea the Painted - we don't get much about her, not when her own self came and destroyed any sense of agency she's had. But maybe the only thing she does once she is free speaks enough about who she was - she preferred death over being controlled and made to destroy her world and family. She didn't let her brother kill her, choosing instead to bear that burden herself. She had the courage to do the unthinkable, to be ruthless in reaching her goal but loving so much she didn't let her brother suffer the guilt of killing her. This is how her mother sees her.

The Hauler Axon - a creature bearing the weight of a whole city on its back. It's bowed under the pressure but it pushes forward, steady and unbroken. If this is the parable of Clea it seems fitting to what we know about her - taking the weight of her whole family on her back and pushing forward no matter what. This is how her father sees her.

While none of the descriptions are perfect it seems that at some level her parents know her well. Even in the end, when Mealle leaves the canvas, Clea stands on her own in front of their brother's grave. She is a part of the family but she will make her own path, grieve in her own way, and offer her love with just a little bit of pain.

[thatfanficstuff]

Fragile Bonds - Klaus and Elijah

Pairing(s): Klaus x soulmate!reader; Elijah x soulmate!reader

warnings: not much happy here.

a/n: it's on the list for a part 2 but it will probably be a bit as i have other things in progress.

You were just passing through Mystic Falls with no intention of staying longer than it would take you to grab a bite at the Grill and top off your tank. Your attention was on your phone, trying to plot out the next leg of your journey when you collided with a hard chest. You grunted at the impact before looking up with an apology on your lips. That would teach you to not pay attention to where you were going. Your gaze met the most stunning pair of blue-green eyes you’d ever seen that widened in surprise as a shockwave rushed through you, your wrist burning where your soulmark was.

The breath fled your lungs as his gaze swept across your face, taking you in. He was beautiful. And yours apparently. You glanced at your wrist where your mark lay and furrowed your brow at finding only half of it shining gold. His hand grasped your wrist and lifted it to examine the mark before tossing it aside as if he’d been burnt. You glanced up to find his striking features twisted with suspicion and hostility.

He grabbed your upper arm in a bruising grip. “Impossible,” he snarled before dragging you toward a black SUV. Your feet barely touched the ground as he jerked you along. You were stunned as the weight of his rejection sunk in. The world around you reduced to nothing more than your struggle to keep up, to understand why he was acting this way.

He threw open the passenger door and shoved you inside. “You’ll be coming with me until I get some answers.” The angry bite to his words was the complete opposite of everything you had imagined when you thought about meeting your soulmate. It should be happy, a celebration, not whatever this was. You sat dazed as he climbed in behind the wheel, your wrist still burning lightly with the new connection. The bond you’d spent your life dreaming of was turning into a nightmare. Your emotions were as scattered as your thoughts as you tried to process your sudden change in circumstance. You didn’t even know who this man was, only who he was supposed to be to you.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he sped through the streets. You stuttered out your name and his gaze snapped to you. “What?”

“My name.”

He narrowed his eyes briefly before turning back to the road. “Klaus. But I suppose you already knew that.”

“Why would I know that?” you couldn’t help but ask.

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Don’t.” He shook his head once. “Don’t lie to me.”

Confusion swamped you to mix with the building fear. What in the hell was going on? This man should have been your everything and you were less than nothing to him if the way he was treating you was anything to go by. You wrapped a hand around your wrist to cover the mark, the proof of your connection. You suddenly felt so hollow, so alone.

When you arrived at your destination, Klaus dragged you through the mansion’s grand entrance and into a study lined with books. He slammed the door with an ominous thud. The sound echoed like a threat and before you could blink, you found yourself pinned to the wall. He’d moved too fast to be human and as you met his cold gaze you realized exactly who this man was. You were no stranger to the supernatural but you never thought you’d ever encounter the Original hybrid, let alone discover he was your soulmate. The fear you’d felt before paled in comparison to the new wave that came with the realization.

“Who sent you?” The words sliced through you. “What witch cast this spell? This is beyond the little Bennett.”

“No one sent me. There is no spell.” Desperation colored your words as you begged him to believe you.

“You expect me to believe that?” His voice dripped with skepticism. He stepped back, finally giving you room to breathe and raked a hand through his hair. He paced, restless, as your eyes tracked the movement. Surely there had to be something you could say, could do, to make him see the truth.

He paused, gaze narrowing as it fixed on you. “Do you know who I am? What I’m capable of?”

“Yes, I know.” The words were little louder than a whisper and a single tear spilled from your eye to run down your cheek.

“Then why provoke me?” he yelled, causing you to flinch. He grasped your arm and lifted it to show your mark. “And this? How did you know the mark I bear?”

“This isn’t some conspiracy, some plot against you,” you answered. “I’ve born this mark my entire life. I had no way of knowing you carried its match until today. Why won’t you believe me?” You hated the way your voice broke at the end, but you needed him to trust you, to believe you.

He began to pace again, reminding you of a tiger caged at the zoo. All lethal power, barely restrained. Each time he looked at you, it was if he was trying to solve a riddle that refused to make sense. He halted suddenly, eyes fixed on the floor before lifting his gaze to you once more. “How long did you think you could keep up this charade? Do you think I’m that easy to fool? That I’d let you in, let you make me vulnerable? I am no fool.”

“It’s not like that,” you insisted, risking a step in his direction. The desperation to make him understand making you reckless.

He closed the small distance between you in a blink, grasping your upper arms in a harsh grip. You sucked in a breath of surprise. “If you wish to see tomorrow, you will tell me everything.”

Tears burned your eyes. “Why are you doing this?” The soft question was more to yourself than him. “Can’t you feel it?”

His gaze locked onto yours, searching for deception where there was none. He grabbed your wrist again, fingers tightening painfully as he examined the mark. “This bond is a lie,” he insisted, but you were sure you caught a flicker of doubt that only seemed to make him angrier.

“Why won’t you believe me?” The words escaped in a choked sob, your defenses crumbling. You were losing him before you’d even had him and it may very well kill you.

He shook his head. “I have spent a thousand years searching for my soulmate. A thousand years in countless countries, countless cities and you expect me to believe I happened across her here in Mystic Falls? It is unbelievable.” This man, who should have been your salvation, your other half, was hell-bent on turning you into his undoing, on making you the villain.

“You are my soulmate.” You said the words firmly, without the tremor you were afraid would show. “You’re supposed to cherish me—to love me—not hate me.”

Klaus recoiled as if you’d slapped him. For a moment, you saw a flicker of hesitation, a crack in the armor of his resolve. But it was fleeting and your heart sank as it vanished to be replaced by the coldness you’d come to dread.

“Impossible.” The word sounded less like a judgment and more like a plea.

He didn’t want to believe and nothing you said would convince him otherwise. The tears you’d kept mostly at bay, overflowed as the realization set in. You met his gaze as you imparted one last, shattering truth, voice breaking under the weight of it. “I wish it was anyone but you.”

His eyes darkened then transformed into a stunning, shining gold before you could take another breath. Veins traced his skin as, with supernatural speed, he shoved you against the wall, fangs descending like razor blades. “You know nothing,” he seethed, voice vibrating with rage.

Your world went white with pain as teeth pierced your neck, a brutal agony that tore a scream from your lips. Your vision blurred and your knees gave out as your heartbeat slowed to a whisper. Your pulse thrummed in your ears like a dying drumbeat to lure you into the darkness. Klaus’ grip was unyielding as he pulled the life from your veins. The edges of the pain started to blur with the numbness that crept over your senses. You drifted as each breath came shallower than the last.

The hybrid froze against you. The pull of his bite stopped as he withdrew and a new agony tore through you as he shifted his hold on you. He cupped your chin and lifted your gaze to his, shaking you slightly when your eyes fluttered close. “Look at me, sweetheart.” And as his eyes met yours, you saw nothing but stark terror in his gaze. “No,” he whispered, horror dawning as the bond between you faded with your life.

The world tilted and blurred in a mass of colors and shapes as he lowered you to the floor, urgency replacing his anger. You couldn’t comprehend his desperation, his need for you to live when he so clearly wanted you to die only a moment ago.

Your eyes closed and he shook you again. Carefully, lightly, but enough to have you frowning at him. Why couldn’t he just let you rest?

“Stay with me,” he ordered, his voice cracked around the edges. He bit into his wrist, blood welling a harsh crimson against the haze of your vision. He pressed it to your lips. “Drink,” the command came sharp and insistent and you found yourself obeying without thought. The metallic taste flooded your mouth, foreign and rich. As his blood slid down your throat, a spark ignited against the numbness that had seeped into your very being. Every nerve ending blazed to life as strength clawed its way back into your limbs.

It was jarring, overwhelming, as sensation returned along with the thundering of your pulse. You pulled away with a gasp as you took the first deep breath in what felt like an eternity. And you suddenly realized that you would survive your first meeting with Klaus Mikaelson.

He watched you, eyes wide and searching. You saw the shift in him, his doubt replaced with genuine concern. His anger gone, all that remained was a single-minded focus on you, waiting to see if you would indeed come back to him. As you recovered, as your color returned and your breathing steadied, the panic in his gaze softened into something almost vulnerable. He closed his eyes with a breath of relief as your bond snapped back into place with the returning off your life.

Klaus reached for you, hesitating as if expecting your protest, then swept you into his arms when none came. You were aware of everything but unable to do more than focus on the world around you as your body and your mind both struggled to recover. He moved through the halls with deliberate care, cradling you like something precious and breakable. His gaze stayed on you and with each step the distance between what you were and what he feared you to be seemed to vanish.

The bedroom he carried to was full of large furniture carved from dark wood. His scent lingered in the air as he laid you delicately on silk sheets. Their luxuriant softness was a sharp contrast to the hardness of the floor where you had nearly died. You watched him, too weak, too exhausted to speak. His hesitation spoke volumes but you still wanted him to say the words you were so desperate to hear. He believed you, he was sorry, it would never happen again. You didn’t know what he could say to fix this and, apparently, neither did he. He lingered, looking like he wanted to say something, but then he turned and left you to the quiet of the room and the screaming of your thoughts.

Despite your best efforts, you were sound asleep mere minutes later.

***

Elijah arrived in a cloud of chaos and worry. Panic sliced through the air as he called for his brother. “Niklaus!”

“Here.”

The answer had him turning his steps to the living room where he found his brother slumped on one of the sofas with a drink in his hand and blood on his shirt. “I felt them fading. We nearly lost them.” Desperation dripped from Elijah’s words. The two brothers had long come to an understanding where their soulmate was concerned. They’d had a thousand years to discuss their matching marks, the mate they would have to share, and how they intended to go about it. But every discussion meant nothing when Elijah had felt that connection fading.

When he received no reaction from his brother beyond him taking another sip of his drink, Elijah scowled. “We need to find them immediately,” he demanded. “Despite our precautions, someone could know who they are to us.” They both wore enchanted jewelry that hid their marks from view. Had for hundreds of years.

Klaus drank deeply before meeting his brother’s gaze. “All done, brother. She’s right upstairs.”

Elijah’s panic shifted to relief and a slight bit of suspicion. He hadn’t expected Klaus’ cavalier demeanor, his aloofness at the narrowly avoided tragedy of your loss. It only fueled his urgency to see you, to make sure you were truly safe.

His mind raced as quickly as his feet, a thousand questions tumbling through his thoughts. The last thing he sensed was your life slipping away and his brother seemed completely indifferent to the situation. His stopped outside the door where he heard your strong, steady heartbeat.

He stepped inside, careful to stay quiet so as not to disturb you. His feet carried him to the side of the bed where you slumbered. His gaze locked on the pulse at your throat before shifting to watch your chest rise with the breath he had so feared to lose.

His relief was a physical thing that drained the tension from his shoulders as he took in the sight of you. His gaze caught on the golden sparkle on your wrist, tracing it with his fingers, smiling when the still black half glowed in the wake of his touch. It was confirmation that you were his, theirs. Not that he needed it. This close to you he could feel the connection he had so long yearned for.

Having assured himself of your survival, he took in the rest of you. You were stunning. Perfect. Except for the splash of red at your throat and the neck of your shirt. The wound was gone. Healed by his brother no doubt, but Elijah was certain he was looking at the aftermath of a vampire attack.

Pure fury shot through him at the thought that one of his kind had harmed you. That they had taken that which was not freely given. And then a horrid, horrible thought occurred to him. Klaus had always been paranoid at the best of times. Had never taken anything good at face value. Had self-sabotaged his happiness at every turn. But this…

Elijah shook his head as if to knock the thought from it. Surely, he wouldn’t have hurt you, nearly killed you. But then why hadn’t he called the moment he found you? Klaus would have known Elijah would be half crazed with worry. Unless his brother was trying to avoid his judgment for as long as possible. The behavior Elijah had witnessed upon his arrival only seemed to support this horrible truth.

You stirred, mumbling something in your sleep, but as you settled back into a restful slumber, your second soulmate was already halfway down the stairs as he returned to the living room to confront his brother. His voice was controlled but seething as he demanded the truth. “Tell me what happened. What nefarious plot did you save her from? Or was it your own actions that nearly took her from us?”

Klaus said nothing as tear-filled eyes lifted to meet his brother’s furious gaze.

[meownotgood]

GRAAAAAAAAHHHH 40,000 WORDS OF AKI SEEXXXXXX RAAAAAAAAAAhhhh

[non-cannon]

Cruises are both the journey and the destination

[aimiblr]

Personally, if a reader doesn't feel like this, I think they're reading fanfiction wrong

You know what?

I love you, fics that take months to update. I click on the newest chapter and have no memory of this place and get to go back some chapters and rediscover how much i love everything about this story.

I love you, fics that take years to update. I think of you fondly, and know your names, go search for you and see an update from this year and scream, diving in uncaring of any missed details (i will finish the update and read you in reverse because this is a treat you have bestowed)

I love you, fics that probably will never update again. Thank you for being a roman empire for my mind, thank you for teaching me about the ephemeral fandom experience, for inspiring a thousand million what if-s, for being a comfort read and a nostalgia read and a reread.

I love you fic writers, who jump into projects and stories with enthusiasm. I love you when you succeed in pumping out those chapters and that love doesn't go away when you stop.

I love you fic writers who post and then get in your own head and never feel confident enough to update, whether it's at all or whether it's just that one story.

I love you fic writers, who have a fandom or media hurt you to the point of abandoning or having a hard time with their WIPs.

I love you fic writers, who lose interest or have life changes or illness or bad memory. Thank you for being part of the fandom, a core part of the fandom. Thank you for the time spent in the fandom.

I love you, fic writers who try out something new and then stop. You're so valid.

I love you, WIP fics that may or may not ever get finished. Thank you for brightening my day in the way only you could have.

[m1nsur0]

Same Branch, Different Leaves.

[Sun Wukong and the Destined One]

[szynkaaa]

Some more Black Myth Wukong Destined One x reader / OC / self-insert / whatever-floats-your-boat thoughts

***** Black Myth: Wukong Ending Spoilers *****

While I know that in the true ending, the Destined Ones inherits all of Wukong's power and skill and memories and is basically the Monkey King reincarnated, I still kinda see them as two separate beings?

Especially in terms of shipping Destined One x reader LMFAO. IDK I just think this has a potential to be angsty or ending in a tragedy, like yeah you have heard stories of the great Monkey King (or not, depending on your character's backstory). But the monkey you are traveling with doesn't seem anything like the Great Sage you have heard so much about. It's hard to tell what he is thinking or wants but with time you learn how to read the Destined One (see my other hc here). This is the monkey you've been traveling with for some time, protecting you, listening to your woes and shower thoughts. Who made sure you were fed and safe and warm at night.

What does it mean then when he inherits all of Wukong's power and will and memories? Is his personality slowly gonna shift to be more and more like the monkey king's? Did the Destined One ever had a free will on his own? In the game when you die, a lot of times enemies will say "oh you are nothing like him" and that it is also not the first time the Destined One has been here (which I guess is tied to one of the game's ending). I think it's just kinda sad that the purpose of his entire existence is to go find the 6 relics, and then inherit Sun Wukong's memories and be basically the Monkey King reincarnated.

So I'm writing this with my OC in mind, but I feel like if she learns that his whole journey at the end is to become Sun Wukong and be his reincarnation, idk she is gonna absorb that information well. It may suddenly feel like you never really knew the Destined One at all? Was there ever a chance for you to be with him or be together? Once the Destined One inherits all of Sun Wukong's memories, will he still feel the same way about her? will he remember all the good times and bad times and ugly times they went through? I feel like there would be a whole new adjustment period lmfao. ofc this can all still end in a happy ending way, but right now my brain is just stuck in how sad this could also potentially be.

I think part of the reason why I also feel this way is because I am generally not a fan of the whole "past person reincarnated" trope (love isekai though).

I do love the game's ending as it is, but in terms of shipping with an OC or whatever (which is what I always do when I ✨ obsess ✨ over a fictional character), it's not my favorite

anyway yeah, I'm not good with putting my thoughts into words so I hope it makes sense what I'm trying to say

[the-alexel-lucas]

I have a scene planned for DAmN which will definitely frustrate people who want worldbuilding details. Natt has to go to the temple for a festival and right as the priest is getting into a lore dump he thinks "sermon on, brain off". Because the point isn't to learn about the religion or anything like that, it's set up for later that will eventually lead up to learning about all those things. But as Benno has drilled into our heads time and again you have to lay the groundwork first.

Lmao I’m always baffled by people’s take “It’s unrealistic for Myne to lose interest in anything that isn’t books!”

That’s literally her. That’s her whole character. She’s been like this since day 1. She doesn’t care to unearth the mysteries of the world, or the chemistry behind how things work (and she won’t JUST BCS YOU want to know) she cares about books and family and that’s abt it.

Anything else is secondary. She’s very much of the idea of “let the weirdo be weird in what they love” and it’s worked wonders

[monsoonwrites]

I think of him and smile secretly,

When I walk alone When I see sunset When I talk to the moon When I see a single star When I hear a lovely song When strands of my hair slide over to touch my cheeks When I read a beautiful line When I write my heart out When I wear my earring When a flower or a leaf falls When the rain kisses and brings me the gift of petrichor When the sea drenches my foot

[sonny-whorezik]

THEY DONT NEED ME HERE AND I KNOW YOURE THERE

[nonsensenook]

Imagine While Witnessing the Final Fight (Spoilers for Black Myth Wukong):

You and Bajie watch in horror as The Destined One gets destroyed by The Great Sage's Broken Shell

Zhu Bajie: The kid's getting pulverized!

You (squinting): Is that a steel chair?

[merry-fagoland]

traveler as a "Witness"

[spacealligator]

use AI for good!!! not for content!!!

there are so many good things you can do with AI as a fanfic writer instead of asking them to just write the story for you:

no beta reader? ask the AI to review it and check if you agree with the suggestions

writing softwares sometimes let some mistakes slip, ask AI to check spelling, verbal time inconsistency, word repetition, synonims, if there are excessive adjectives/adverbs, too much passive voice and so on

do your research there! is xyz canon or fanon? please show me a clip/text of it in the original source material? has xyz ever been used in fanfics before? how? and then credit the ideas

you lack ideas and have no friends available to bounce around some concepts? hey AI suggest me different writing styles based on what I already do? what are the key elements for writing this genre? has xyz have been done? link me to those fics so I can read the reference

struggling with ideas and how to translate them into words on paper is the whole fun of writing! don't skip it to go straight to the final product, the process is way more rewarding

[tuskstudioart]

Apologies for not posting as frequently lately- caught up in different projects as of late anddd- yeah- but you CAN have this tiny/peach-pittified Destined One I doodled for fun- I call him sprout (Like dandelion sprout..and tiny BM:Wukong will just be dandelion..because..y'know..incarnation referencing n all that- Anyways)

Ummm yeaaa!! There's alot of white space because I'm planning on little-ifying alot of my favorite wukong adaptations like peach pit- and I guess I wouldn't mind drawing some requested wukong adaptations in this style as well that y'all send over so like-😗