#me: i cant write for shit

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[lokorum]

so....................i've read unraveled the other day.................... and then ive re-read it.........and now im in the middle of re-reading it again????

honestly cant promise that im not gonna keep coming back to it until someone would steal my phone and then i'll just log in from the pc lets be real here (¬‿¬ ) but!!! what i wanted to say is that its just such a good fic?? so well written? it has all the right words in just the right order and i can and will argue till late night that it healed part of myself that i had no idea existed. these descriptions of hugs??? gonna stay with me untill the very end  (*_ _)人  

and drawing something is the least i can do to show just how much your work means, @2btheanswertothequestion  (/▿＼ )

"unraveled" became my spiderverse canon since the moment ive finished chapter one and it will stay this way!!! thank you so so much for all the long hours and all the hard work you clearly had put into it!! you're amazing!! ♡

[gojuo]

aemond killing luke + blood and cheese was the point of no return for both sides and these writers have literally taken that crucial beat in the narrative ... and squashed it beneath their feet, twisted it into what can be called a forgettable event like it was just another day these characters have had... i'm awed at how worthless these writing decisions are.

[deoidesign]

I'm so mad that post was misinformation because there is actually an EXTREMELY important conversation to have about the production schedules artists are forced into. There's no need for exaggeration, the conditions are bad.

I work for webtoon. My publication schedule is weekly. While publishing I'm required 10-15 pages a week. Fully colored.

This means I'm finishing a 150 page fully colored graphic novel every 10-15 weeks.

When my comic is not updating, I am not getting paid. Any time writing, editing, or off is out of my own pocket. I don't get healthcare. They do not provide any assistants. They expect me to promote myself; they chose to deprioritize me before I even launched and gave me an end date half a year in. I never had a chance.

And this is the industry standard! Every company has artists forced into crunch hours, overtime, and burnout. Artists are literally dying early due to it. So many of my friends can't afford to go to the doctor.

It's unsustainable and untenable, and it's also the expectation our audiences have.

If we want to have this conversation, there's plenty of conversation to be had with the realities of the situation. It's bad as is.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

still unwell over the prospect of Howdy slowly putting the pieces together and having a complete mental breakdown over it. Laughingstock edition!

[hyperballart]

something something premature ejaculation something something art donaldson

seeing this as best friend art. you’ve been attached to the hip since childhood, his grandma is very fond of you and you practically live at their house based on how much you’re over. it’s the summer before college and you’re hanging out with art in his attic. he sits with his legs crossed in front of you sipping on a can of sprite. you joke and banter until it leads to a playful wrestling match.

this isn’t abnormal, you both tussle on the floor until he’s got you pinned down digging his fingers into your sides. you squeal and try to push him off while he mocks your cries. your pleas aren’t taken seriously as loud laughs escape you with tears running down your eyes. in an attempt to make him stop, you weakly kick under him until one of your thighs accidentally brushes upwards between his own. he groans and hunches over you panting and letting out a quiet, oh fuck.

you quickly regain composure and ask him if you hurt him to which he replies with a curt, no m’fine. things get quiet for a beat but you find your chance to build up strength and flip you both over once again, this time his back thumps against the floor and you’re straddling him. you pin his hands above his head and for a moment he’s got a drunk look in his eye until he swallows, “heyyy, that’s not fair.”

your grip on his hands tighten and you smile breathlessly, “c’mon artie, don’t be a sore loser.”

he breaks out of that grip and starts his tickling again, this time with you on top of him beginning to squirm around and accidentally swiveling down on his lap. this snaps him out of it and makes him let out a whine, “oh my god, what—“

you feel he has grown hard under his shorts and stop. the air feels a bit awkward now, which is an unusual occurrence with you two. you know neither of you have much sexual experience, maybe a kiss or two at a school dance but not much beyond that. you suppose it’s normal for him to grow aroused at contact from a girl, you don’t want him to be embarrassed. and in all honesty, you’re curious about how good he can make you feel.

“hey it’s okay, it’s normal,” his eyes are glossy and his cheeks burn pink. he mumbles out a sorry and is about to push you off until you sit fully on his lap again. “what are you—hnngh,” you give a slow grind of your hips and feel him slide through your folds through your tiny shorts.

he falls back on the floor, his eyes close and he’s whining out chopped sentences while you start humping him in a frenzy pace. “artie, oh my god, it feels good,” he nods dumbly up at you and you watch as he’s shoving a hand down his boxers to fix his cock to lay straight. you notice that he did this so you’re able to glide yourself up and down easier and moan out.

you’re going at it for about five minutes, art’s hands rub shakily in a trail from your waist to your thighs. he sounds like he’s crying, you’d be more worried if it weren’t for the occasional twitches of his dick underneath you. “let’s take pants off, feels good but i need more,” and art bites down on his lip hard before doing so. you’re amazed at how natural this feels, this was here for you all these years to take and that thought alone is enough to gush out more in your panties.

the sounds of slick are loud paired with hard breathing and soft mewls, you only get to about two more minutes of humping each other in your underwear before art groans, “wait—fuck please wait, i’m sorry—feels too good,” his back arches from the ground and he looks down to where youre connected, “you’re so wet baby, oh please—“

in a bold decision, you slide your panties to the side just to show how much. his eyes go cross and you press your bare pussy on his clothed head a milisecond before he bursts. he’s shaking and soaking his boxers fully, tons of cum bleeding through the fabric and darkening it. all throughout his orgasm he apologized i’m sorry, i’m sorry i can’t help it it’s so good and you helped him come down while his body fell limp. if ten minutes was what it took to have him like this, you’d keep getting more.

[hearts4lilith]

currently thinking about how tommy said that ctommy waking up underwater every day in exile was a metaphor for his mental health, and that the further and further out to sea he got and the further he was sinking the more deteriorated he became and eventually he would end up unable to resurface had they not done something about cdream.

currently thinking about how if ctommy couldn't resurface, he'd drown in his own thoughts, believing his friends and family all hated him. nobody would see the kid they once knew in him anymore. maybe he'd never be seen again at all.

currently thinking about how ctommy saw one anxious, forgetful enderman lad, roped him into a crime, and took 100% of the fall when they didn't get away with it. ctommy could have ignored the situation. he didnt have to go to ctubbo and say "it was just me, man". as cranboo said, he could have said it was all him. there was evidence it was him.

but i think that after everything, ctommy would still be unable to live with himself if it'd been cranboo in exile instead of him. on the surface, he's a child. a soldier and a veteran and a criminal, yes, but still a child.

but beneath that, he's learnt. he's decided he'd rather throw himself into trouble than let his friends go through any amount of suffering.

i think that if cranboo were to ask, "why did you do that?" ctommy would sigh, that familiar shaky sigh we all know, and he'd speak quietly in reply, "i know what some of those bastards are capable of. i'd rather go through all that than have you do it for me. plus, it wasn't your fault."

or maybe that's just me.

[morelikecommunitydick]

How it feels to slander Dan harmon on tumblr

[eikichi-supremacy]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[scarysanctuary]

they really tried to act like the crew actually love ed, the crew ended up liking izzy way more than they liked ed, and thats saying something, so dont give me that cheap, fake sentimentality. acting as if its okay that eds losing his one friend that hes known all these years, and its okay because hes got a whole new family, a family he terrorized for a while, threatened to kill, and never actually said "sorry" to and since then hasnt really interacted with much at all, and then immediately leaves them to start an inn with stede, but sure, yeah, thats ed's family. no, that should have been izzy's family

[enden-k]

DID YOU WATCH THE GENSHIN 5.0 LIVESTREAM? LORD, THEY ACTUALLY LISTENED!!

yall.......i stopped posting gnshn stuff a while ago, i dont bother watching their stupid livestreams aaahhhhh if i could i would kidnap my faves out there and take them somewhere safe smh

anw no i did not watch it bc i dont keep up with gnshn. im out of the loop so idk what youre talking abt

[starii-void]

currently thinking about the mortality of the lmk gang

Wukong is immortal, he'll eventually outlive all his friends, again. even if they reincarnate, it won't be the same. the world keeps moving, but he's the one constant. is this what he wanted when he sought out immortality?

Macaque has a long lifespan. he might end up gaining immortality with Wukong too, but that just means he'll outlive the others too. he's died once and is scared of it. but he has to watch his friends fall to it one by one.

MK doesn't know what'll happen to him. is he immortal like the other monkeys? is he more mortal? does he even age? at what rate? does he even want to be immortal?

Pigsy, Sandy and Mei might have a longer lifespan, what with the dragon/monster heritage, but they're still mortal. they still age. Pigsy and Sandy are older than the others. sandy's accepted it. pigsy doesn't want to leave his son behind. mei doesn't want to leave her brother behind.

Tang is fully human. he may have inherited the great monk's powers, but he is still fully human, flesh and bone. he's older than MK and Mei, too. he's the only one that has a confirmed lifespan. they all know it'll happen eventually.

[hyperrealisticblood]

i love that wally darling is an autistic character written by an autistic person. he starts turning into an eldritch creature whenever hes about to have a meltdown. not many neurotypical people know about that

[valtsv]

Do you write stories?

occasionally, but mostly i just come up with ideas that never make it past the worldbuilding stage

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."