#you’re just such a spark of joy in the fandom

[naavispider]

I am @jellyscreamer Naavispider! I know that sounds like I am literally ripping the identity of someone else but I really am not. For example, I think the only way I can prove it is this; So originally my name was not @Jellyscreamer, it was called, get ready for this: "thecheesecakeemporiumlove" which I fucking hated because it was fucking long as shit and I thought it was super cute at the time and so original and I had the cutest pfp if you can believe that.

But then I changed my name to @jellyscreamer because I wanted to fit in with the cool kids (aka ppl like you) because y'all had these super short names that were all creative in their own ways and that was the best I could come up with at the time. Then almost immediately after I changed my name again to @thedejabluesimp which, I kept for my side blog for Avatar called @dejabluesimp.

Before ultimately deleting my account in the end because I wanted to set up an avatar blog as I stated before and working on it so that it would grow popular over time and people could send me questions, imagines, headcanons, theories on Avatar and my account @jellyscreamer was somehow hidden like you couldn't find my account even if you tried. It would show up in search results, nothing, zilch.

This is a really long and winded explanation and I am getting a little dizzy writing all of this but I have had the account @jellyscreamer, as you formerly know it as since I was (probably, dates are blurry now) in middle school. If you searched through my blog you would have found the old embarrassing art I made when I was in middle school when I thought that I would turn my blog into an art blog before quickly dropping that altogether.

This is my new account @today-or-tumble, the one I am posting this ask from as we speak. I really love your account and many others, I really hope this makes sense and I really hope you believe me because I am not lying nor am I a bot or trying to steal someone's identity. Because that would be a crime (even tho this is Tumblr) I am not interested in becoming a criminal.

Have a wonderful day beautiful! I wish you and your loved ones good life, fortune, and peace in your future! And I hope you take breaks from Tumblr if life gets overwhelming!

It’s YOU!!! 🥰🎉🥳😭🥰😍🎉 My beloved jelly screamer!! DonT WORRY I BelieVE YOU🎉🎉 I thought you had gone forever and would have been crushed forevermore wondering what happened to you 😭 I am so hAPPy you’re here just with a name change, sorry if I scared you!!! 💞💙💞💙💞💙

[ssreeder]

So, I know you probably get these comments/asks all the time but LIAB really is a masterful work of art! Fanfic or otherwise I don't think I've ever read a story (especially not one this long) that's kept me invested in each and every character through every twist and turn! I mean really even if I don't necessarily agree or like them I can sympathize with where everyone is coming from and it's just all so in character and flows so naturally & I know that can't be easy to do I could ramble on and on about this but wow thank you for sharing your writing! I look forward to every update it makes my day!

Even if I got comments like this every single day (which I don’t) it wouldn’t make receiving them any less special! i really strive to write characters that were unlikable but understandable, so I’m glad you appreciated the effort I put in! I enjoy writing the story so much even if the characters make it infuriating sometimes haha! (Looking at you zuko & iroh)

thanks for this kind ask I am hugging you so tightly SQUEEZING YOU EVEN AHHHH!! <333

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You - (Penelope/Colin) Part 1

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn't giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Part 1

Penelope stared out at the pond, her last conversation with Colin still running through her mind. I miss you. Few months ago his words would have sparked incredible joy in her but hearing his smug confession last night had elicited nothing but rage. Even now an explosive anger threatened to burn her from the inside out - but she reminded herself to stay composed. Losing her calm over Colin Bridgerton was simply not worth it, not when she had far more important things to worry about.

“Penelope. How are you?”

Hearing Lady Violet’s voice from behind, she turned around to greet the older woman. Except she wasn’t alone. Of course not. Behind her stood most of her family, Colin and Eloise on one side, Gregory and Hyacinth on the other. Penelope quickly shifted her gaze back to Lady Violet. “I’m quite well. How are you?”

“You haven’t paid us a visit in a long time.”

Penelope sensed the scorn vibrating off of Eloise in waves, but she ignored her former friend. Even though her soul ached at the loss of their friendship, a part of her had already grown resigned to their new reality. “I’m afraid country life has kept me busy all these months.”

“Well, you’re back now. I hope to see you at the house more often.”

There was no mention of the falling out with Eloise, nor did Penelope expect there to be. Especially with Eloise pretending she no longer existed. Her eyes roamed over to her friend, only to be ignored. Inevitably her gaze slid over to Colin, and she suddenly found herself the recipient of his intent focus. Somber blue eyes penetrating her through to her very core, making her rattled and anxious and breaking down the very calm façade she worked so hard to build.  

Throughout their entire friendship he’d always been sweet and funny, filling her dull world with hope and color, but the night of her mother’s ball she’d seen the kind of cruelty he was capable of. It was a side of him that she never wished to see again. And feeling his piercing gaze right into her soul, in a way he’d never looked at her before, reminded her of how much of a stranger he really was. “Forgive me, Lady Violet, but I must take my leave. Mama shall be waiting for me.”

She quickly walked past the group, breathing a sigh of relief at no longer being under Colin’s scrutiny. Her relief, however, lasted only a few seconds. Because almost immediately Colin was striding alongside her.

“Pen, we need to speak.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I’ll do the talking.”

“And I’m not interested in listening.”

“Too bad. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

She cursed his long legs, because while she struggled to keep up the fast pace he seemed to glide along the path without much effort. Short of running away from him, which would surely cause a scandal amongst the crowd promenading, she had no choice but to keep walking.

“I’m sorry. Truly.” His voice was soft, velvety like butter, like he’d practiced the words many, many times in preparation for the performance of a lifetime. “My words that night-”

“Do you know that I read your letters over the summer? Despite my anger, I still read them.”

An unexpected rawness laced his voice. “Why?”

“Because I needed to know. Would I recognize that insincerity in your words now that I knew the truth about your disdain towards me. And do you know what I discovered?”

She finally turned to look at him, and just for a moment the world stopped. Like it always did. His eyes were bluer than the sea itself, a symphony of agony and need, beckoning her towards him. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, her heart caught in a whirlwind of chaos.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a plea. It was a demand. As if he was entitled to her thoughts, her heart. Her very soul.  Well, damn him. Damn him for playing her for a fool. And damn herself for ever loving him. “You are an extraordinarily talented writer, Mr. Bridgerton. So good in fact that I woulld never have guessed your true thoughts if I didn’t hear you utter them myself.”

“That’s not fair. It was one night, Pen! One night! When I was drunk out of my mind and said something foolish. Are you really willing to give up on me after years of friendship because of something so small?”

“Yes.” Her response was quick and resolute, surprising even herself.

Stunned, Colin stared back at her. “Yes?” The tremor in his voice was unmistakable. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

The change in him was sudden and abrupt, taking her by surprise when he moved swiftly to block her path.

The blues of his eyes were so dark they bordered on brown, a storm brewing in them. Staring back at her was a man she didn’t recognize, different from the boy she grew up with,and the man who humiliated her without a thought. This was a stranger in front of her, anger etched on his face, jaw clenched with tension.

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

She didn’t think he could hurt her more, but he managed to do it nonetheless. “I never expected you to court me, Colin. You don’t love me. I’m quite aware of that. But you could have told them there was nothing between us. You could’ve even said I meant nothing to you. Instead you mocked me, derided me so you could look good in front of your peers, and that makes you someone I never want to associate with.”

 “I made a mistake, Pen.”

“Miss Featherington,” she bit out through gritted teeth. “That is who I am to you from now on. Nothing more.”

“So that’s it? I make a mistake and you erase me from your life just like that?” He snapped his finger angrily. “Are you so fucking perfect that you’ve never wronged anyone?

They’d been standing still for far too long, their conversation growing more potent every second. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of glances in her direction, people’s eyes sliding over her and Colin, and she realized how dangerous this was. Risking her carefully crafted plans for a few heated moments with him was idiotic. “People are staring at us, Colin.”

“I don’t care.”

“Obviously.” She offered a small smile at the couple who walked past her, trying to appear amiable. “You may not be concerned about my reputation but I am. And I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my way.”

“I’m not willing to give up on our friendship like you.”

His snarky words drew her gaze back to him. “Walk away, Mr. Bridgerton. Let me be.”

“And if I don’t?”

The hint of menace sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “You would not be the gentleman you claim to be.”

“Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps everything you’ve accused me of is true.” He took a step closer, eyes shining brightly. “Maybe I am cunning and cruel. What then?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “What is it that you want from me?”

“Forgiveness.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you’re being rude.”

Eyes locked, they regarded each other intently. She didn’t understand what he was doing, why he was behaving this way. Why his stare seemed to be all consuming, studying her, trailing down to her mouth when she licked her bottom lip before drifting back up again. He’d never behaved this way before, A complete stranger in every way. “If you ever valued me as a friend, you would do as I ask.”

“I could say the same. If you valued me, you wouldn’t cast me aside.”

“You can not force me to continue this.”

“Would that be such a hardship? To move past one mistake and leave it behind us?” Desperation brimmed from him, he swallowed audibly. “I may not wish to court you but you are important to me. You’re my dearest friend. I can not envision a life without you.”

She exhaled a long, drawn-out breath. “You must.”

His lips twisted into a cruel plea. “Why?”

“Because I am to be married, Colin!” Instantly she regretted her words, hating herself for letting him provoke her. Yes, it was the truth, a plan that had taken months to carefully develop and plot – and now she’d ruined it by announcing it too early, and to him of all people!

“What?” He faltered back, stunned by her words. “You’re engaged? To whom? Why-”

“All you need to know is that my future husband and I have already discussed the matter and he wishes for me to have nothing to do with you. So goodbye, Mr. Bridgerton, because this the last time you and I will speak alone.” She stormed away, before he could stop her.

To be continued...

A/N - Um, thoughts? Feedback is always appreciated. I'm liking the idea of Colin and Penelope going head to head over the destruction of their friendship :)

[idontevenremember5minutesago]

I don’t get involved in fandom drama anymore. I’m here to have fun and scream about how much I love things with my fellow lunatics.

But I’m seeing some rumbling from….. that portion of the Helluva Boss fandom about the creepy fan guy (Arick?) and how they are especially mad at Viv for her using him to represent critical fans and haters.

And I just thought I’d point out that his character and design has been used in cartoons since the fucking 90’s. It’s practically tradition to depict crazy, overly critical and obsessive fans like that.

It’s not new, you’re not special. It’s not an elaborate insult that was made specifically for Helluva Boss haters or critics. It’s literally the status quo.

Calm down.

That is all.

( Also, this is not an invitation for anyone to come here and argue about how Viv blew up your house or how Helluva Boss’s writing is contributing to inflation or whatever. I don’t do that back and forth shit. I will block you with the swiftness if you do not spark joy.)

[rebelwriter99]

Right. I have seen too many posts today about fandom being an unfun place to be. Including a post someone made saying some fandom humans shouldn’t exist! Which is soooo cool and normal!

Since I don’t think it would be possible for me and Skye to inbox cleanse all affected humans-this post, if I can tag it properly, should hopefully dashboard cleanse effectively.

This is Skye. He is an assistance dog. Right now he is holding your hand as you go through inbox messages and/or your dashboard and he is encouraging you to block anyone/anything unkind you come across. He thinks you are lovely and that nobody should be unkind ever. Niceness only! You are allowed to be a fandom human. Ship whoever, write whatever, if you are experiencing joy and tagging it the best you can you’re doing amazing. Just keep on sparking joy. He promises there are lots of people around loving it with you, and keeping the fires of fun fandom going.

In the marauders fandom especially-characters and concepts have been taken from the hands of someone that hates most of us. And we’ve written our own stories, built our own community where I know so many feel welcomed and happy and like they are safe to be themselves, or figure themselves out. By reading and writing about these characters. That is a wonderful thing-no matter what anyone might say. And honestly if this fandom has made even one person feel like this universe is a more habitable place to exist because they found a place in said fandom-well I’d say we’re doing pretty well.

If anyone needs an inbox cleanse/virtual cuddle from Skye-you need only ask. And we wish you all the fandom joy 🌟

[augenblicklich-lila]

cod incorrect quotes #10

NUMBER TEN OF THESE! DOUBLE DIGITS BABY!! I just have a lot of love for this fandom and these characters. Love y'all ♡

the usual jazz, mainly Y/N/Reader stuff, platonic and romantic. Plus a sprinkle of Soapghost and Alerudy ♡♡♡

This one has quite a bit of König content because he deserves all the love. A bit more Price as well! ♡♡♡

- Lila

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛ ♛ （ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ━━✫・*。 ⊂　　 ノ 　　　・゜+. しーーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨)

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛

König: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait. Y/N: You and me!!! König, tearing up: Okay.

König: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Y/N: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially König, desperately, as Y/N bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/N: Oh! B positive. König: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/N:

Soap: Must be hard not being able to laugh Ghost: I do have a sense of humor you know Soap: I’ve never heard you laugh before Ghost: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

Y/N: So are we flirting right now? König: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU Y/N: That doesn’t answer my question

König: Accidentally hits Y/N in the face König: Trying to decide between saying 'I’m fucking sorry' and 'Are you okay' König: ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?! Y/N: tearing up What’s wrong with you?! (will never forget the day I thought a cashier was going to ask me if I wanted a receipt but instead said 'have a nice day' and I said 'no thank you :)' bc that's what I had prepared for)

Soap: Okay, truth or dare? Y/N: Truth Soap: How many hours have you slept this week? Y/N: Y/N: …Dare Soap: Go to bed. Y/N: I don’t like this game. (also Soap with Ghost. He's trying so hard.)

Y/N: holding a bottle Is this whiskey or perfume? Alejandro: chugs entire bottle Alejandro: It’s perfume. (Alejandro gives me unhinged energy. Probably gives Rudy 12 heart attacks each week)

Y/N, watching the rest of 141 being chaotic idiots: God, give me patience. Price, just as tired: I think you mean 'give me strength'. Y/N: If God gave me strength, they'd all be dead.

Y/N: What’s up guys? I’m back. Soap: What the- how are you here. Ghost: You’re dead. I literally saw you die. Y/N: Death is a social construct.

Ghost: You're right. Soap: That's… That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

Price: Y/N… Y/N: Oh no, 'Y/N' in b-flat. Y/N: You're disappointed. (disappointing Price must be crippling)

Alejandro: .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- [translation: I’M SORRY] Rodolfo: What's that? Alejandro: Remorse code. Rodolfo: I'm even angrier now.

Soap: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming Ghost: No Y/N: Yes Price: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak (Joy sparks within me when I imagine Price's face during this conversation)

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛ 　 ∧＿∧ （｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。 ⊂　　 ノ 　　　・゜+. しーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨) “Hie thee home, little wanderer.”

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・♛

[siphoklansan]

Knave Cater. That’s it. Just Knave Cater. I’m down bad I’m not joking this fic made me down bad check it our rn it’s an order👹 /j but really though….read it cuz ya’ll missing out👁️👁️

Here are two versions of Knave Cater, one that sparks joy and the other that doesn’t spark joy-

Anyway, it was REALLY difficult when I got to his armor. I didn’t know how to shade armor let alone draw one so..yeah. Lots of photos were looked into but at the end I decided to go hail mary and design it my self. Please note the the armor patterns were just me doodling away because idk armor patterns💔

About the (terrible) armor colors/shading, I took a look at Alice In Wonderland live action movie, the Knave of Hearts. Reference photos and links will be at the bottom of this blog, as well as reference photos of the raven Cater is holding(?)! I feel like something’s off with his armor so I’ll be back and edit this post later :,)

I can just imagine the raven spilling the most atrocious tea while Cater just goes “mmhmm…mmm…yuh ikr? So true so true you’re so real for that SLA-“

Armor References:

Knave of Hearts (Character) - Comic Vine

Knave of Hearts | Alice in Wonderland Wiki | Fandom

Cummer Museum

ArtStation - Medieval fantasy armor

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armour_in_the_18th_century

Raven references:

https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Common_Raven/id

https://www.outdooralabama.com/crows-jays-larks-and-swallows/common-raven

(I’m not sure if the links work, I suck at using tumblr sorry guys- also I’m not even sure if the fic has a crow or a raven I’m going by memory😭)

[transbookoftheday]

🧛 Trans Vampire Books 🧛

Can't get enough of What We Do In The Shadows? Read some trans vampire books!

A whirlwind romance between an eccentric archivist and a grieving widow explores what it means to be at home in your own body in this clever, humorous, and heartfelt novel. When archivist Sol meets Elsie, the larger than life widow of a moderately famous television writer who’s come to donate her wife’s papers, there’s an instant spark. But Sol has a secret: he suffers from an illness called vampirism, and hides from the sun by living in his basement office. On their way to falling in love, the two traverse grief, delve into the Internet fandom they once unknowingly shared, and navigate the realities of transphobia and the stigmas of carrying the “vampire disease.” Then, when strange things start happening at the collection, Sol must embrace even more of the unknown to save himself and his job. DEAD COLLECTIONS is a wry novel full of heart and empathy, that celebrates the journey, the difficulties and joys, in finding love and comfort within our own bodies.

In becoming a vampire, I’m less than a girl. And more. Or maybe I’m becoming what I always have been, deep inside. A blade. When nineteen-year-old Fin volunteers to take her secret love’s place in their village’s Finding, she is terrified. Those who are chosen at the Finding are whisked away to Castle Courtsheart, a vampire school where human students either succeed and become vampires, fail and spend the rest of their lives as human thralls…or they don’t survive long enough to become either. Fin is determined to forge a different path: learn how to kill the undead and get revenge for her mother, who was taken by the vampires years ago. But Courtsheart is as captivating as it is deadly, and Fin is quickly swept up in her new world and its inhabitants - particularly Gavron, her handsome and hostile vampire maker, whose blood is nothing short of intoxicating. As Fin begins to discover new aspects of her own identity and test her newfound powers, she stumbles across a string of murders that may be connected to a larger ritual - one with potentially lethal consequences for vampires and humans alike. Fin must uncover the truth and find the killer before she loses her life…or betrays her own heart.

ARC 1, IN WHICH: A cute punk-rock vampire and a disabled firefighter-turned-mall-cop with a dark past join forces to battle the forces of evil. Jude used to leap out of helicopters to rescue/protect people from terrifying infernos. Now, by day, he protects the local mall from rowdy teenagers who ride their skateboards inside. By night, he protects the the parking lot, and the rest of Portland, from undead, bloodsucking creatures of the darkness. Or would if he could find them. But he’s just about ready to give it up (living with PTSD and pain from the traumatic event that cost him a leg, a friend, and a lot more is hard enough), when something crashes into his life. And his window. It’s one of these creatures of the darkness - and he’s a lot less scary than expected. More cuddly, with dark fuzzy wings, and neon-bright hair. His name is Pixie, and he refuses to bite anyone. Assault/murder/draining fluids isn’t punk, even if being a vampire really kind of is. He’s very hungry by now, and the much bigger, meaner, deadlier vamps kick him around on the nightly. Jude would love to find and fight some actual undead bullies. And Pixie could use some help staying… ‘alive.’ Time to make a deal. Of course, life still sucks when you’re a vampire who refuses to suck blood. Fortunately, there’s a really interesting new barbecue restaurant in the mall, with an intriguing new recipe. (We hear that the secret ingredient is… love. No, really.)

Darren is your average half-human, half-fae trans teenager, busy figuring out his powers and puberty while trying to survive finals. When Vlad, a newly turned vampire, moves in with the witch down the street, he and Darren get off on the wrong foot. Darren is always one to give somebody a second chance, though, and as they become friends, he realizes Vlad is just lonely and struggling with his new powers. That’s something Darren can definitely relate to, and he’s happy to lend his support. But while he coaxes Vlad out of his shell, Darren ends up learning about Vlad’s past… and the danger Vlad is in. Darren only wants to help—help Vlad feel comfortable in his own skin and help him feel safe. He hadn’t planned on falling in love.

Book titles:

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Court of the Undying Seasons by A.M. Strickland

Stake Sauce, Arc 1: The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really by RoAnna Sylver

Showers, Flowers, and Fangs by Aidan Wayne

[glass-noodle]

Thanks for being such a sunny spot in fandom! So much I see is negatively and you’re just a lovely little ray to sit in and bask

Ahh!!! 😭💕 You’re very sweet, anon. It’s not to say that there aren’t things that make me upset, but I try to pull back and focus on what actually makes me happy/what initially drew me in to something when that happens, and sometimes that means retreating into my own space where I can essentially just play dolls to my heart’s content, haha. Fandom can be a rewarding and exciting place, but it can get overwhelming sometimes and I’ve learned from my mistakes over the years that 1) nobody’s perfect, least of all me, and 2) the most important thing for me is to simply do what sparks joy, something that I have to actively work on daily. I’m glad my lil corner can be a nice spot to hang out; please imagine that I’m giving you all the biggest hug and a warm bowl of noodles whenever I post 🍜🫂💕

[assistant-of-drama]

The tension near the Total Drama Jumbo Jet was thicker than Chef’s gruel.

The remaining contestants huddled, eyeing each other with suspicion as Chris, his grin more manic than usual, held the tray of marshmallows. Alejandro, ever the composed charmer, stood confidently, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. His plan to dismantle Heather and Sierra’s alliance had worked flawlessly, or so he thought. He had shown Sierra a photoshopped image of Heather cozied up with Cody, a blatant fabrication that he believed would drive a wedge between the unlikely duo. He hadn’t counted on Sierra’s expertise. Years of internet fandom had honed her skills in photo manipulation, making her immune to such amateurish attempts. Seeing through Alejandro's facade, Sierra had confide in Heather, and together they concocted a counter-plan, a scheme more cunning than Alejandro could have imagined. “Sierra,” Chris bellowed, breaking the silence, “You’re safe! And you get the first marshmallow!” Beaming, Sierra grabbed the marshmallow. “Aw, thanks! I used to eat these all the time while watching the show!” The charade continued. Throughout the challenge, Sierra had been a whirlwind of animosity towards Heather, her act so convincing that even the ever-observant Alejandro was fooled. He had fallen right into their trap. “Heather,” Chris announced, enjoying the drama, “You’re safe too.” Heather smirked, accepting her marshmallow with feigned indifference. Alejandro's smug smile wavered. This wasn't right. Chris began reading the votes. “Two votes for Alejandro… one for Noah…” Before Chris could utter another word, Sierra bounced to her feet. “Hold on a sec, Chris! Gotta grab something before someone gets the boot!” And with that, she disappeared down the plane’s corridor. She returned, pushing a trolley laden with a magnificent cake, its frosting a vibrant shade of pink. Miniature firework-like sparklers crackled atop the creation, casting dancing shadows on the contestants’ faces. “Ta-da! A little something to celebrate our victory, Heather!” Sierra chirped, her smile as bright as the sparklers.  But the others weren't smiling. Their faces reflected horror. Sierra, in her excitement, had positioned herself directly over a patch of spilled jet fuel, a remnant of one of Chris's many dangerous challenges. The falling sparks were a disaster waiting to happen. “Sierra! Look out!” screamed Heather, her voice choked with terror. But it was too late. A spark hit the fuel, igniting it with a deafening roar. The plane shook violently, throwing the contestants off their feet. Animals shrieked, fleeing from their cages in a desperate bid for freedom. Then, the explosion. The world went white. When Sierra regained consciousness, her ears ringing, she found herself lying amidst the charred wreckage of the plane. Soot covered her like a second skin, and her once vibrant pink hair was now a singed mess. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the mangled remains of her cake. Noah, seemingly unscathed, approached her, a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. “Sierra, are you alright?” 'Does it look like I'm alright?!' Sierra exploded, her voice hoarse. As if to emphasize her point, a chunk of her remaining hair disintegrated into ash. Chris, his face a mask of fury, stormed towards them. Gone was his usual enthusiasm, replaced by pure, unadulterated rage. His precious plane, his pride and joy, was no more. 'Sierra,' he growled, 'you're eliminated!' Heather and Sierra gaped at him in disbelief. 'But… but Alejandro was supposed to be elimnated! And I had immunity!' Sierra stammered. 'Not anymore, you don't! You just blew up my plane!' Chris roared. Even Heather felt a bit of pity looking at Sierra's heartbroken face.

"Heather, you and Sierra tricked me?!" Alejandro asked.  “Now is not the time!” Heather growled at Alejandro, as she and Noah help Sierra get on her feet. 

'You will regret this, Heather.' he hissed, with narrowed eyes.  However, Heather ignored him as she takes Sierra to a wheelchair. 

[jokeringcutio]

Okay first off you deserve so many more reblogs/likes, your writing is incredible! About the black phone/joker crossover prompts, would you write about reader being a teacher at the school where the kids are going missing and she accidentally helps a kid escape but is face to face with Albert, and they kinda have a moment but she’s actually on her way on a date with Arthur? Or something like that 😅

YES, That IS going to happen.

--

Rating: Teen? Fandoms: The Black Phone / Joker 2019 Crossover Pairings: Reader x Arthur Fleck (Established), Reader x Albert Shaw (attraction) Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Established relationship and crushing on another guy, talk about lust/desire. Summary: You’re on your way to a date when you meet him.

--

“Josh! Your mother is waiting for you.”

The boy stood in front of a man dressed in black. The boy’s head was directed at the ground, looking at something down there, and you were by his side within an instant.

“What are you doing, Josh? You need to go home. Your mother’s waiting,” you repeated yourself while you hurried over to them.

The boy with blonde curly hair looked up at you with big watery blue eyes.

“Sorry, Miss,” he said, calling you by your surname. “I was just helping…” And wasn’t he a sweetheart with his angelic face and his good manners? He was one of the favorite kids you had in your class. Being a teacher was a joy when there were good kids like him around.

You flashed him a small smile and was about to tell him that it was fine, when the stranger suddenly spoke up, his voice smooth and low. “Oh, it’s my fault, I fear.”

You instantly looked over at him. Black gleaming shoes, a dark suit, and shaded glasses that hid his face. Groceries lay scattered on the pavement in front of him. Splattered eggs and a pile of flower that had been ripped from its packaging and was now softly blown away like it was dust.

“Josh here was helping me,” the man continued in the same pleasantly low vein. “I’m afraid I’ve been ever so clumsy.”

You looked at the fallen groceries once more and understood why Josh had wanted to help him. This was an unfortunate accident indeed. Then you looked back up at the man and studied him.

He was slender, average height. His shoulder-length chestnut hair had whisps of grey in it, but that could also be smears of the makeup, you thought, as the man’s face appeared to be painted white. Big sunglasses obscured his eyes, and he surprised you by raising his hand and elegantly taking them off in one swift motion.

He nearly bowed as he did so. The top hat he was wearing seemed to topple over, but by a miracle of balance remained on the top of his head as he straightened his back again.

Your eyes locked and time stopped.

Bright blue eyes met yours and you felt it, instantly. A strong feeling that struck you to your core, had you rooted on the spot. He must have felt it as well, for you recognized how he stood frozen in the same way. How his lips parted slightly at the sight of you. How the look within his eyes changed until his pupils dilated and there was a spark there of something dark and dangerous. Something like longing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss-“ here he said your surname, probably having remembered how Josh had addressed you only moments before. He then gestured for Josh to move along, much as you had implored he would.

The man’s fingers touched Josh’s back lightly in passing as if he wanted to help the boy move along. You noticed the gesture, but it was a fleeting one. Josh stopped in his tracks and turned around to smile at you and wish you a good day. You watched him go before your eyes focused on the handsome man in front of you again.

Your name spilled from your lips unbiddenly. “That’s my name,” you said, as if he needed telling.

The man repeated it as if he were tasting each and every vowel and consonant. Then he looked up at you with a smile. No longer lost in thought.

“Hi, I’m Albert,” he said and thrust his hand forward as an offer for you to shake it. You did so, though hesitatingly. The spark in Albert’s eyes had you distracted and made your knees go weak.

“Not the best way for an introduction, eh?” Albert said once you let go of his hand, and he laughed nervously. He brought a hand up in his hair, awkwardly, the top hat tipping to the side. You could only imagine how he must be feeling.

“No, not at all,” you said, already getting down to your knees. “Let me help you pick this all up.”

Albert surprised you by kneeling down as well. His hands reached for the scattered groceries in an attempt to help you. “Thank you but I can’t have you do this all on your own,” he said, voice sounding jocular. “After all, it was this old man who made the mess, eh?”

Old man, you thought, giving him a quick once over. He didn’t look that old. In fact, he looked pretty decent for a man. Just the right ripe age. You quickly had to hide your blush, looking away. But your eyes darted back to him on their own accord not long after.

You recognized that he was trying to lift the tension and saw how the corner of his smile trembled slightly. Was he nervous?

“Not that old,” you honestly said, as you reached for another fallen product. “Besides, the older the wine, the finer, right?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, as if your comment caught him by surprise. He had not expected it.

You suppressed a smile and reached for another item when Albert’s fingers accidentally brushed past yours. A sharp tingle of energy warmed the place your hands touched, skin to skin. Your heart rate picked up and your lips parted.

You looked up to find his blue eyes waiting to meet yours.

The tension was familiar to you, as was the tingle deep in your tummy and the awakening of lust. You fancied him, there was no denying it. And by the look of raw hunger in his eyes, you could tell he felt the same.

Lips suddenly dry, you rose to wobbly knees, your head spinning with emotions. “I’m sorry,” you said, words a whisper. “I need to go.”

His smile faltered and the light in his eyes seemed to die down when he heard your words. Albert got up, a torn bag carefully clutched against his chest. The groceries that the two of you had managed to save were semi-safe folded into the tattered bag. “I understand,” Albert said, his voice more nasal now. It reminded you so much of him. It was the some tone of judgment, the same pitiful tone that Arthur would use whenever he put himself into the role of a victim. Whenever you had hurt his feelings.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Albert,” the words were hard to leave your lips, even though you meant them. It was just that he was reminding you of Arthur so much right now. Even their names started with an A.

Averting your eyes, you shook your head and took a step away from Albert. They were so similar in looks and sound. You could easily confuse them, imagine them both inside your bed. But you knew you shouldn’t. You were only allowed to love one man in this society.

Plus, Arthur would never forgive you if he found out you fancied another. If you so much as looked at another man he would turn livid. And so you dreaded to think of what he would do if he found out you had actually met a man you found attractive. More than innocent looks. Not that you should worry about any of it. You seemed to have disappointed the man in front of you with your move.

But Albert surprised you.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said, voice determined. And when you looked up you saw his jaw clenched. His fingers dug into the bag he carried with force, the knuckles turning white. He was being serious.

“That is, if you’ll let me,” he continued, sounding a little less certain now. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

And there it was. Such a bold request, it made your heart skip a beat. With your hand fluttering to your heart you turned back to him, eyes locking with his bright and hopeful ones.

“Oh,” you said, sounding surprised. “Oh,” again. You saw the hope glimmer in Albert’s eyes, saw how his muscles tensed for the inevitable rejection. “I’d love to,” but I am already spoken for, you should have said.

Instead, your voice died in your throat and the words never left your lips. Albert’s blue eyes shimmered with gratitude, a look of victory and something dark passing over them. “Good,” he said, sounding relieved and determined at the same time. “Good. Let me give you my number.”

He placed the tattered bag with groceries in the back of the black van and then pulled out a piece of paper. Leaning over the car, he scribbled a number on it before he handed the paper to you. It crumpled in your hand as he wrapped his around yours, giving it to you like a secret to keep safe.

The small smile Albert flashed you made you feel warm inside again. It was a sin that a man like him was alive. And then, after a slight squeeze, his hand was gone. You stared at the wad of paper in your hand for a moment. What were you going to do with it? If Arthur saw it…?

“Call me,” Albert asked, leaning forward to whisper the words close to your ear, an intimate gesture, ready to lean in even further and steal a kiss.

But he didn’t do that. Instead, he leaned away again, giving you your space. A gentleman, after all, you mused. You quickly hid the crumpled paper in one of your pockets and flashed him a comforting smile.

“I’ll see you around, Albert,” you promised.

“See you around, little miss teacher.”

You liked the nickname he gave you, smiling brightly upon hearing it.

Even when walking past him and away, you could still feel his gaze upon you, eyes boring into your back. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder to confirm he was watching you go. A small smile appeared on his lips when he saw you looking and you returned it.

And then you were round the corner and gone.

You tried desperately to get Albert off your mind after that because you knew you needed to focus on your date.

Arthur was waiting two streets away, hands in his pockets and a puppy smile on his face when he saw you arrive.

“There you are,” he said when you came within his reach. With a bright smile, he circled his arm around your waist, leading you away while whispering sweet words about how he’d missed you in your ear.

You let him guide you away, hand on your pocket to conceal the forbidden number of a man you should try to forget.

While Arthur led you to a small and cheap coffee shop, elegantly opening the door for you, a black van slowly passed by, slowing down even more when it came up behind you. You hardly noticed it, too busy as you were being focused on your date. Arthur was making you laugh, doing one of his silly clown moves. Even in his ordinary clothes, you could see the clown in him.

And even if you had looked over your shoulder to see the black van parked in the middle of the street, you still wouldn’t have been able to discern the grim expression hidden by a layer of white makeup and black sunglasses, or the way the man’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned as white as the makeup on his cheeks.

You were oblivious to what you had started.

The beast of desire was unleashed. And one day, you would feel the brunt.

[latibvles]

Happy Thanksgiving All!

This year has been an absolutely wild, crazy one and I am so so lucky to have been in this fandom for a whole year with so many lovely people — it’s definitely kept me sane throughout all the curveballs that have been thrown at me. I do wanna give a nod to some very special people:

@shoshiwrites for every single lovely message she sends my way while simultaneously understanding that I’m an absolutely terrible texter. But I can always count on the enthusiasm to still be there.

@almost-a-class-act for being my enabler in everything I do — and also being there to share in a lot of joy that I’ve had this year! Thanks for letting me talk your ear off pal <3

@cody-helix02 and @derry-rain for always being a message away and sending me all the things that spark joy — I think that morning classes would be considerably more tedious without you both there to talk to.

@mercurygray for once again spreading so much fandom love— the support you have for other writers will never go unnoticed by me. you’re an absolutely gem (if I had a dollar for every time Merc made me laugh on my way to the airport—)

@noneedtoamputate a new pal who’s blessed me with Chuck and Ellen! I am so thankful that you join this year and shared your words with us all — so thank you for doing just that, and being a genuine sweetheart everytime we interact :)

There’s obviously a whole lot more, I’m very lucky to have a space as safe as this one to be myself when everything gets to be too much — or to share the joy that goes on in my everyday life! So thank you for giving me that chance. Happy Joe Toye Day and a happy Thanksgiving to you all! :)

[greentrickster]

Canceling Internal Cringe Culture to Start Writing

Okay, I just got asked on AO3 about how to start writing in the face of cringe culture, especially the internalized sort, and I have a feeling this might be applicable to more than one person. So I’m gonna share what I told them with all of you as well! Here it goes:

Hmmm, this one's actually a little hard? Just because I've been writing for over twenty years now, and when I started, cringe culture just... high-key didn't exist. Neither did AO3. Tumblr was Right Out.

All that said... hmm... well first? Instead of using any sort of app or program, get a notebook - whatever floats your boat (I like to use ones with nice pictures on the front, but my sister uses those little pocket-sized ones) - and write in that instead. Even if you're not used to writing like that, give it a try anyway, because writing in a book makes it private, makes it personal, makes it just for you. And if it's just for you, then who cares if it's cringe? It's for you, no one else, and it's makes you happy, which is much more important! I like to use pens with green ink in my writing books. It sparks joy and adds an extra layer of good to the process. It may be slower, but it’s also an activity and movement that’s completely disconnected from all the nonsense on the internet, which can hopefully make it easier to ignore all that.

(If the page looks too big and blank and intimidating, I suggest adding stickers or a silly sketch or something. You can write around them, it’s fine.)

Just as important? Love what you're writing. This isn't 'content' or a product, this is a story or a poem or a memory. This is something you're writing down because you want to remember it. So love it. Indulge yourself, then indulge yourself more. Put everything you want to see into this, because you're also sitting in the audience, a very eager audience member and- hey, what do you know? The audience-member-who-is-you also just happens to be an up-and-coming new producer, everything they touch has been a hit so far, and they're taking an interest in your work. They think there could be something special there, that you, yes you, could be the next big thing. So be super sure to cater directly to this audience-member-who-is-also-you, it could lead places in the future.

Another thing that I find surprisingly helpful? The concept that there are no original ideas left in the world. A lot of creatives find this one super demoralizing or depressing, but I find it encouraging. Because it means, if I've had an idea, then someone else has had it, too. And that someone else probably wants to see it, even if they've made their own version of the idea. Heck, there could be a lot of someones! And they're cheering for you, so go for it!

And finally, the hardest part... you have to make a choice. Which do you care about more: listening to the part that cringes or writing? You can't care about both equally. You just can't. Writing is a lot of fun, but, like any creative form, it's also a lot of work. I didn't sit down and start writing at my current skill level, this is the result of two decades of practice, polishing, and honing my abilities. Looking back, the amount of work I put into all this is kind of staggering. But I didn't do it because 'I have to' or 'it's necessary.' I did it because I love writing, because I knew I could get better and I wanted to. And yeah, sometimes that involved doing stuff that was scary. There will always be aspects of it that are scary. I still get scared when I introduce certain new aspects to this fic, or enter new fandoms, or try something different. Writing can be hard and scary, that's just part of it. But the idea of not writing... that's so much worse.

You're starting in a really rough time for beginner creatives. Cringe culture, purity culture, cancel culture... all disgusting trends that need to end yesterday, if not sooner. It can be hard and scary to try because of all that. So step away from all that, take a chance somewhere private and safe that's just for you, and be brave. Choose to please yourself before anyone else. Love your stories, your characters, and the part of you that loves them, and take that first step. The best time to start a new project was probably yesterday, but the second best time to start one is always now. ;)

[ndcultureis]

I have an image I want to share that’s me being feral about my fandoms but it won’t let me send images so I’ll just type it out

“I am frothing at the mouth I am spinning in circles so fast I have become a permanently smudged animation I am death destroyer of worlds I am full of joy and love for the world I am dead in the ground I am made of sparks of electricity zapping at eachother Good Omens is a container of yogurt and I am frantically moving my too large spoon back and forth and dumping the yogurt on my head I am chewing on human flesh I am in Neil gaiman’s walls I am a cryptid my eyes are vibrating out of my head my heart was beating fast for hours after I finished watching I am covering myself in stickers every color of the rainbow until I disappear”

Replace Good Omens with whatever fandom you’re in and I assume this will vibe with everyone

.

[lavoixhumaine]

You and your friends are extremely selfish. You always comment on each others stuff but you never comment on other peoples work.....you are so clique-y. Its gross. This fandom doesn't even want you.

I had to think about what to say or if I should say anything at all.

My original plan was to reply with my usual ass. No, I didn’t forget the S. I meant to use the word ass.

Before anything—say what you want about me, but my friends are not selfish. They’re wonderful and kind people with big hearts and generous souls. They were there for me during the darkest time of my life and I consider them a blessing.

That said…

I need to make this clear—I do not go into the Bathena AO3. I haven’t, not for a while now. I post my stories and reply to people but that’s it. On top of my everyday responsibilities, I also choose to spend time with my friends over going on random jaunts online.

On the rare occasion I do find time to read fanfic, as you seem to have noticed, it’s not because I went looking—no, I talk to my friends and we discuss what we’re up to so when they do write something, they give me a heads up when they or someone in the group publishes. If I end up reading works by those not in our group, it’s because someone I trust recommended it to me.

That and I don’t read fanfics when I’m writing because that makes it harder to write. I don’t know why. It’s a whole thing.

But anyway, you probably know that in order to comment on someone’s work, you’d have to have read it. If you’re upset with me for not leaving a comment on your story, it’s most likely because I have not read it so therefore, I cannot comment on it.

There isn’t some conspiracy. We don’t sit together planning to only discuss each other’s works. We honestly talk about anything and everything, not just Angela Bassett or Bathena or 911 because we have lives of our own and we got a lot going on. So there are many, many conversations bouncing around.

You don’t know me, but my friends do and they know that if there’s a story they absolutely want me to read whether it’s theirs or someone else’s, they have to send me a link so I’ll know it exists. Otherwise, it’ll just pass me by.

As for whether or not the fandom wants me…I wouldn’t have the slightest clue about that or what that means. Where does one go when they’re wanted by a fandom? I don’t know because this isn’t something I’ve had a lot of experience with. But I do have my friends and I’m quite happy where I am.

If that’s cliquey then that’s not our intention and it’s not something that ever crossed our minds. And if it’s gross then…well, maybe that’s a bad thing but I don’t know how to respond to that, honestly.

What we do, we do for the joy of it. Writing about two fictional people in their fifties being in love and putting them in ten million scenarios makes us happy. We don’t have any ill intent or have any malicious thoughts about people we don’t know about. We do our thing and celebrate each other and these lovely fictional people who are played by two wonderful and phenomenal actors.

If you have a story you’d like to share specifically with me, you can certainly do so. I comment on stories that are well-written that I genuinely enjoy. My Ask is open to all and I think you can even DM me. I won’t make promises but that’s all I can offer because I don’t know you and it’s hard to trust someone who won’t even leave a name. Whoever you are tho…well, I hope you find something that sparks joy in you.

This is a lot longer than I expected it would be but these are my honest thoughts.

-sunny

[ladymdc]

I had a question for you! I recently got into fic writing and I admit that I am far from good, but I found it to be fun and two of my friends help edit it and help me out. Some people liked it and I really got into it. A week ago, I got a really long, nasty comment that basically told me I was a horrible writer and that I should never publish again, plus said I should get new editors. It was awful. I don't even really want to write anymore after the hateful things they said. I know I'm not great and have a lot to learn but it was really discouraging. Has that ever happened to you on your fics? Do you have any advice on how to bounce back?

This is going to be long, but I have Feelings™️ about this…

First, I want to say I’m sorry this happened to you. No matter how much skill or experience you have or don’t have, you didn’t deserve it. It makes me mad when readers feel the need to be cruel when this is a hobby for most of us & something we do for joy. It was this individual’s responsibility to simply click the back button & go find something else, not tear you down.

That said, I’ve had quite a few unpleasant fandom experiences from unwelcome critique to stealing/copying my work, & it’s hard to come back from, especially early on when you’re just starting to figure it out— but there are a few things that have helped me over the years:

Time is a given & so is being kind to yourself, so give yourself those things ♥️ Revisiting the work & pulling out things I like is a big help. It’s too easy to see the flaws after a nasty comment, so find what sparked joy in the first place. If the negative is too loud, turn it into what you would’ve done differently, but don’t beat yourself up either. I see things I would do different all the time. It’s just a part of growing. Stuff I know for next time! But the biggest help has been my friends.

I am lucky enough to have two friends who have been with me through most of my writing journey & I have picked up a few more along the way. But having them listen & support me & give a big “fuck that person” after stuff like this helps tremendously.

So, next, I’d like to say: fuck that person.

The ‘want to quit’ feelings they left you with are valid, but their actions were not. We can’t find our voice & style & all the things that piece us together as a writer without stumbling through the process. Here, my friends & I like to say that spite is a pretty solid motivator, & it is.

Don’t quit. Don’t let this person win. Tell your story. Grow. Write another chapter and dedicate it to them. And it’s okay to not be ready to do that yet, but I encourage you to do it. This shit gets easier to field as your skin gets thicker & it is *so freeing* when you get there, but it takes time, just like developing your craft. Things I wrote 7 years ago would be so different if I wrote it today. It’s just how it is.

I wish you all the best anon & I don’t know if any of this was helpful to you, but I hope it made you feel better— even a little— & that you keep writing. We all start somewhere ♥️✨