#i very much want to write something

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

#so either world quests or maybe i'll take a day off from games for today #depends on how i feel when i start playing #but i still have to do my dailies & my genshin weekly bosses & stuff :3 #i very much want to write something #but my brain hasn't been letting me lately #like i get a mild headache whenever i start trying to think of ideas #which probably means i still need a break but :/ #maybe i'll draw something if i can't write tonight #oh yeah i have those gushes to answer sometime today :D #but anyways #i hope you'll have a good day/night!! <3 #morning rambles

[erwinsvow]

an idea… rafe and shy reader having sex for the first time

everything's overwhelming with rafe, but this is particularly so. you thought you were completely ready for it, from the way you had handled everything else so well. in fact, rafe was the one taking things at the slowest pace possible, trying to make sure he didn’t pressure you into something you weren’t ready for.

you didn’t like it—thought he was trying to be something he’s not. he’s gentle with you but never like this, never to this extent. it must be a big deal then, sleeping with rafe, giving him your virginity, you finally decide, if he’s acting so differently about it.

in fact, you think you’ve been ready to give it up since you first started dating him. rafe brings it out of you, coaxes a different side of you out with gentle words and soft touches. you’re going mad over it. you can’t count the amount of times you’ve crawled into his lap at any given opportunity, anywhere the two of you are alone—his truck, the couch in your living room and at tannyhill, the hidden booth at the country club. you’re begging for it, not sure how much more obvious you can get.

you finally decide tonight’s the night—following a nice dinner with the two of you. you had spent extra long getting dressed up, a pretty white lingerie set on underneath your blue dress, all done up for rafe. finally back at tannyhill, entire body vibrating and tingling with excitement, you don’t wait another moment, crawling into rafe’s lap and kissing him hard. you take off your dress and rafe stops just for a second to take in how forward you’re being.

“hey,” he finally breathes against your lips, pulling away. “c’mon, you’re not ready for this.” 

“yes i am!” you whine, impatient and horny, feeling rafe get hard underneath you. you want him to be able to do all the things you know he wants to do, want them done to you. “i am, i am-” and you lean back to kiss him, ending up pinned underneath him before long.

he knows you’re not, but he plays along. you’re so wet already he doesn’t have to do much, but he makes you cum all over his fingers anyways, hoping it’ll satiate you.

“please, rafe,” you moan against his mouth, pushing in for another needy kiss. “wan’ it inside. please.” and he does know you, knows everything about you, but even he can’t resist when you say things like that.

you watch with big eyes while he lines himself up with your wet hole, hovering over you. you think you’re so ready, that three of rafe’s fingers inside you should be comparable to what you’re about to feel, that you’re more than prepared. your eyes squeeze shut when rafe pushes inside, all the air leaving your lungs. you try to moan out but it’s more of a gasp than anything else, one that rafe swallows into a kiss. 

your eyes get watery—it’s just habit. it hurts, too, because rafe is so much bigger than you expected. you bite your cheek, looking up at rafe through teary eyes and clasping a hand over your mouth—you don’t want to admit that he was right. 

“c’mon kid, give it up. y’not ready for this, i know you,” rafe says, leaning in close to your ear to whisper it quietly. he’s not even half-way inside you.

“i-i can take it,” you hiccup. you hate disappointing rafe.

and it’s not that he doesn’t want to—he does, desperately so, wants to fuck you within an inch of your sanity every time you walk into a room and look at him with your shy eyes and sweet smile. he wants to break you, wants you cumming on his dick until there’s nothing left in your head, no shyness left in your heart. but he wants it when you’re ready for it, not like this.

it only takes another minute, you finally admit you’re not ready, and rafe pulls out of you. you feel like crying, terribly sad and dejected, wishing you could just be normal for rafe for once, be what he wants. 

“stop,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. his arm rests over your stomach, trying to get you to lighten up. “when you’re ready for it, i’ll fuck you until you can’t think. s’just not today, kid.”

you finally agree when he says that, getting over it because you know without a doubt in your mind—rafe knows you better than you know yourself.

#omg what a lovely lovely prompt thank you babe <3 #this may not be what you were expecting #to me the very first time they have sex its too much for shy reader so it doesn't actually happen happen... but it is still the first time #i rlly wanted to write something like what you guys would expect but i really felt like this is more real of their relationship lol #anyways <3 i hope you like it! #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

[otaku553]

Thinking very hard about an AU idea of mine. Reluctant king Sabo AU!

In which Sabo isn’t saved by Dragon, but survives long enough to drift ashore and be saved by the doctors of Goa Kingdom, who do so only to ransom his medical bills from Sabo’s parents. Sabo’s parents take him back, thinking that his amnesia makes him a clean slate, but Sabo, young and stubborn and unsure of his entire identity, knows that everything is wrong and runs again, and again, and again.

Until at some point, he meets the Revolutionaries, and realizes that he can be useful to them, provide them information, make something good of an inescapable situation. From then on, he starts acting the noble that he was born as, in order to be a more useful informant to the Revolutionaries, until sunk cost fallacy hits and he believes that being a noble is the only way that he can be useful to the Revolutionaries. So at that point, why not take it all the way?

At 17, Sabo becomes one of Princess Sarie’s suitors, and at 17, he has doubts about using the princess for his own goals. Sarie is a romantic, and she wants a dramatic fairy tale of a romance, and she was already charmed, but the moment Sabo opens up to her about not wanting to use her to get to the throne, having lofty ambitions of helping the people (just not the people she thinks he’s talking about), Sabo becomes the one she simply must marry, because surely if she tries hard enough, she can make him love her back.

Soon after, the king and his son die. Sarie’s father and brother die. And while Sabo conveniently ascends to the throne, he also swiftly implicates his father, Outlook, in the assassination of all heirs to the throne, resulting in Outlook’s arrest and subsequent execution. And thus, at 18, Sabo becomes king, and begins to gradually institute great changes to Goa Kingdom.

Design-wise, Sabo wears an eyepatch because his damaged eye is considered a grotesque sight by nobles’ standards. Under the eyepatch, he wears heavy makeup to hide the burn scar. These are both at the behest of his birth parents, who spin a story about Sabo having been born half blind to hide the fact that Sabo had been shot by a Celestial Dragon and save face. To those who have seen his scar, they fabricate a second secret story that he was unfortunately kidnapped as a child. Sabo never does find out, until he regains his memories, where the burn scar is actually from.

#one piece #sabo #one piece au #king sabo au #I might write something for this #I have a lot of ideas for it #I love au’s where sabo helps the revolution while not being actually a member of the revolutionary army #but I very rarely see ones that I like #I am going to oc-ify sarie so much. #i think sabo would hate being king. I think he hates everything about the situation he is in #but I also think that in the wake of forgetting himself he needs some connection to cling onto #even if that connection is the extremely inspiring stranger that barely knows him but is proud of him for helping #namely dragon. #I’m still unsure where to put stelly in all of this #I think stelly gets extremely bitter when sabo starts surpassing him in everything #because he was supposed to be the successful replacement of a son #im also debating whether or not I want sabo to remember his memories before or after marineford #because the moment he regains his memories is very clear to me. I want garp to see him at the reverie and punch him. #but I don’t know if I want that to happen earlier or later

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

#pickle pontificates #they just have a very good and specific flavor #a lot of the stuff I've seen and resonated with the most falls into this category I've noticed #not even like I'm seeking it out it just keeps happening #i like the action and the goofiness you tend to find in shonen stuff #but i think there's something about the way women tend to write characters and emotions that appeals to me personally #not that i think anyone's going to find this that would misinterpret it but obviously it's not like men can't write characters/emotions #that's what i like so much about haikyuu #which was done by a guy as far as anyone knows #and i also love mp100 if you couldn't tell #right now this is about #fma #fmab #tbhk #noragami #but it can be about whatever you want it to and I'm sure it'll be about more stuff for me in the future

[politemagic]

everyone say congratulations to the first time homeowners!

edit: i may or may not have been inspired to write some headcanons based on this, if you're interested

#is this anything? idk if this is anything but i made it anyway #i wanna write the misadventures of the eepies in their haunted house. #i feel like ii is the ghosts' favorite. while they might mess with the others they are actively helpful to him #like if someone doesn't close the door all the way it'll just slowly click shut so he doesn't have to get up #iii is very jealous that the ghosts like ii so much. #he holds seances at least once a week (despite vessel's many protests) basically just like 'why don't u like me🥺' #iv tries to win over the ghosts by doing nice things for them #if you've seen the show ghosts on cbs i imagine him being a little like jay lololol #leaving the tv on for them to watch or cooking something so they can smell it #(they still love ii the most) #vessel is definitely at least a LITTLE BIT of a medium so to him the haunted house just feels really crowded #though sometimes he'll listen in on their conversations when he's bored #so it's not uncommon for him to suddenly laugh in the middle of a silent room #(the others definitely aren't jealous at all) #anyways if you read all that and would want to read more lmk because i WILL write it #sleep token #worshitposting #sleep token memes #sleep token vessel #sleep token ii #sleep token iii #sleep token iv #em's worshitposting

[divorcedfiddleford]

it is friday my dudes (little hearts added by @tazmiilly)

#sorryyyyyy for not posting ... please accept these as compensation #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #artwork of the damned #tales of the wild zeep #ummmm ok context for the first one should be mostly self-explanatory #i purposefully left the person he's calling open to interpretation #however for the record i will say i am a 'fiddleford was divorced before he came to gravity falls' truther #but that does not mean he would never call back to cali to check in on his son or anything #so take that as you will #uhhhh everything else is pretty silly and doesnt require much explanation i dont think?? #i dont draw pre-college fidds a lot even though i literally have a whole backstory written for him LOLLLL #also i have a whole complex where when i draw a character pre-transition i feel embarrassed #sort of like i've walked in on them in the bathroom or something. like 'whoops sorry' and i politely look away #want to make it VERY CLEAR i dont think theres anything wrong or bad about drawing someone pre-transition!! #it's just a weird thing ive noticed about myself that i'm trying to deal with #and it literally only happens when i'm drawing. not when i'm writing

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

#I have an assignment that was due a week ago and I really really dont want to do it. I have to but i dont want to #im probably making it worse because my brain has built a wall around it so now i can’t do literally anything else until thats done. but #because I don’t want to do it I’m just kinda stuck. turns out this is what they meant when they said emotional regulation is part of #exec dysfunction.. I’ll have a thought like if I get a little bit of it done now i can get it over with. I can just submit something #and then not even 5 minutes later itll be like ugh but I have to draw all the assets out. I have to write things and make spreads ugh #and its just flopping between those two things. i hate it when ppl are like well how much time do you need to work on one thing #because BOY id love to know too. I’d love to know exactly when my brain wants to cooperate with me and work around that but I cant #even my period can’t decide when it wants to punch me in the stomach. which is kinda funny in the grand scheme of things but still #its so weird im just lying on my bed thinking abt all this like damn.. the time will pass anyways no matter what I decide to do.. damn…. #if I submit that assignment now and take the L I literally won’t die. it’ll just be a deduction on an assignment nobody will ask me about #I know this but I’m still stressing myself about it so my thoughts aren’t really connecting to my body. weird #maybe its because Im having a hard time looking forward to things. theres definitely a lot I should be living for but I don’t really feel #a strong attachment to it I guess? it’s been like this for a while with holidays and meeting with friends so I just don’t #I kinda figured its because im pretty passionless and its more like passing interest. but it’s not very fun when it feels like I’m going to #be living distraction to distraction for the next 70 years or so lol #idk it kind of feels like slowly bleeding out. which is funny because I actually did experience blood loss this week #had a 30 minute nosebleed and literally could not stand. also it felt like someone was pinching the back of my brain which was interesting #yapping #does this count as vent #vent #Ive just been making an oc carrd and contemplate changing my blog header for the past 3 days honestly

[tackytigerfic]

Fledgling

Some scrap words I won't be using for another fic, repurposed for the @drarrymicrofic prompt Hatch. Anyway, this is another dads Drarry piece (i know i know). Newborn Albus and newborn Scorpius, tired fathers, both recently separated. Harry struggling a bit with life as a parent. No major warnings that I can think of but do please let me know if there's anything. Unbetaed

ETA: actually re CW there is mention of an unwanted/unexpected pregnancy. Pls do proceed with caution if that's a tricky topic as I don't delve into it with the nuance it deserves. As to my stance, i am firmly pro-choice and it's not the sort of topic i usually take lightly.

Harry hadn’t thought the sling thing through before he left the house, and now his whole back is aching and he keeps whacking people with the unwieldy changing bag that won’t stop slipping off his shoulder. Albus is weeping noisily, one side of his tiny face pressed against Harry’s t-shirt, his new-blue eyes shutting and opening in bewildered exhaustion. Looking down into the sling, Harry can only see the fluffy top of his head, the fuzz of eyelashes, the slack weight of his plump cheek, but he can feel the tear-wettened patch of fabric spreading. They're both exhausted, the heat of summer making Harry's back prickle with sweat under the straps of the sling.

Harry's at the farmers market off Diagon, trying to buy vegetables. He doesn’t actually want to eat a vegetable, or indeed anything that involves chopping or cooking or making any sort of effort at all. In fact, what Harry wants is to go home and lie alone, in total silence, on the sofa in the back parlour, where the air is always cooler, and drink a very cold beer, and eat nothing but Monster Munch and Dairy Milk for dinner.

However Harry has to buy, cook, and eat vegetables, not just because he has to set a good example for his children, but also because if he dies of scurvy then he’ll be no better than his parents were, having a kid they were too young for, then going off and getting themselves killed. Though at least Harry's boys would have the Weasleys, which means they’d be loved at least, which is more than Harry was, and now his eyes are prickling with self-pity and guilt, and Albus is crying so hard he’s hiccuping, and god, Harry needs some sleep. But he won’t get any, because Molly can only keep James for another twenty minutes, and Harry has to get his grocery shopping done, and then it’ll be bathtime and bedtime and another broken night, and so the cycle continues, a relentless loop that might feel like a time-turner is involved except that Harry somehow manages to find brand new things to feel absolutely grim about every single day.

He sighs, pokes at a flabby-looking aubergine, then remembers how much work he’d have to do to make it taste good and just grabs some carrots instead. His hands are already full, the changing bag swinging and banging against his hip. Albus’s little legs are squirming in rage now, his whole body in muscular rolling motion against Harry’s chest.

“Please, baby,” he whispers, kissing the damp little head. “Please just calm down.”

He reaches for a butternut squash, and the bag swings forward and drops into the crook of his elbow, hitting the vegetable stall. Somewhere below him, a point he can’t actually see over the lump of screaming baby, he hears the hollow thumping noise of something falling and hitting the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a cabbage trundling onto the footpath, then another and another. The man who works at the vegetable stall gets his wand out and starts Accio-ing the fallen cabbages, giving Harry an unimpressed look which he extends to the baby in the sling. Harry feels suddenly enraged, and he drops the carrots so he can bring his hand up in front of them, a protective shield against the horrible man’s disapproval, and now the other shoppers are staring too, a woman with a bored-looking teenager giving Harry’s strewn carrots a pointed look as she bends to pick them up off the ground.

Harry can’t bear it anymore, hating himself, hating the people shopping like their worlds haven’t come to a standstill like his has, hating the great fucking changing bag and the carrots and even, for one awful shameful moment, the crying baby, and he moves further down the street to where there’s a break in the stalls, a mercifully unoccupied bench, and a busker playing some sort of multi-horned instrument that is making enough noise to drown out Albus’s wailing. He sits, carefully, so Albus is higher on his chest with one plump cheek against Harry’s fast-beating heart, and closes his eyes.

“Here,” a voice says, and Harry opens his eyes to see a plume of green feathery leaves, a hand clutching… is it the bunch of carrots? And then he looks up, beyond weary now, and it’s Malfoy there, because of course it is. “I saw you dropped these.”

Malfoy sits down uninvited, just sags down onto the bench next to Harry and lets the bunch of carrots fall on the seat between them. Harry hasn’t seen much of him since school, though he knew Malfoy had got married, and he’d definitely seen something in the papers when the baby was born. He looks awful, Harry thinks, too pale even for him, with sickly blueish shadows under his eyes. His hair is long, curling round his ears, slightly damp at the temples from the heat. He’s wearing a shirt that has some sort of greyish white stain all down the front, and the points of his collar are soft and floppy in the heat, like a puppy’s ears.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Harry says.

“I just want some rest,” Malfoy says, and he stretches his legs out in front of him and tips his face up towards the sun, closing his eyes. His throat is one long bared line, and in the crisp afternoon light Harry can see the fine glint of stubble all along his jaw where he clearly hasn’t shaved in a while. 

“This doesn’t quite seem like the right place for resting,” Harry says. “This one won’t shut up, for one.” He looks down at Albus, his throat tight, then back at Malfoy. “Sorry. For the noise, I mean. I’ve tried everything and he just won’t stop.”

“Oh.” Malfoy waves his hand vaguely in Harry’s direction, eyes still closed. “I can’t even hear him, really. It’s practically a holiday for me, hearing a baby crying that isn’t my own. Not my problem, for once. No, this one here is the reason I need a rest.” He opens his eyes as though it costs him effort, and jerks his head to the side. There’s a pram parked there, the old-fashioned silver chassis winking in the sun, gleaming hood drawn up to shade the baby inside. Harry can barely see through a haze of brightly coloured sun protection charms, anti-hex shields, and elaborate cushioning charms. The pram looks like something Harry had seen in old photos Petunia had, like a relic of some half-forgotten time, but Malfoy puts a hand out almost proudly and rests it on the handle, rocking the pram back and forth slightly. 

“He’ll only sleep if the pram is moving,” he says, sounding grim. “And I’ve only just got him to doze off. If he wakes up now, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it.” He looks at Harry, eyes wide, and places a hand to his mouth as though he wants to snatch the words back.

“Give us a proper look, then,” Harry says, and Malfoy gently lifts the shielding charms for a moment as Harry leans over a little to peer over the edge of the pram to see the baby. He's small and pink and not at all pointy, just a soft squidgy-looking bundle under a light summer muslin, with an almost invisible sheen of hair the same silver as Malfoy’s on his little head. 

“That’s Scorpius,” Malfoy says, and he’s grinning a little, gazing distractedly into the pram as though he can’t quite help himself. Harry feels abruptly and surprisingly fond towards him. He’s seen that expression on his own face in countless photos of him with the boys.

“He’s cute. Interesting name.”

Malfoy goes pink, which makes him look a bit more like his old self, Harry thinks.

“It’s a family tradition,” Malfoy says stiffly. “And I happen to like it. And anyway, you can’t exactly talk, naming your child Albus.” 

“Hey, no,” Harry says. “I wasn’t being— I mean, sorry if I sounded sarcastic or something. I really do like it. There were three Harrys in my form, at my old school before Hogwarts. I would have loved something different. I always wanted a cool name like Rocket or… Trent or… McGuyver, or something. I’d have loved to be called Scorpius.”

“You’re making it worse,” Malfoy says, though his lips are twitching. “Trent? Honestly, Potter.”

Then, as if compelled by curiosity, he leans over towards Harry and gently eases down the side of the sling so that he can look in at Albus from the side. Harry wonders what the baby must look like, in this heat, having been crying for so long, but Malfoy’s eyes soften and he smiles into the sling like he’s forgotten Harry’s even there, and Harry feels that irrational glow of pride he gets whenever anyone admires his babies. He’s mine, he wants to say. I made him. 

Albus, as though sensing he’s being looked at, takes in a huge gulp of air with a sweet little wheezing sound and then, miracle of miracle, falls silent. 

Harry and Malfoy look at each other over the baby’s head.

“Oh my god,” Harry mouths, and Malfoy mouths back at him, pointing into the sling, “He’s asleep!”

Harry isn’t sure how long they sit there. He thinks he might doze off for a while, though he can’t be sure. When he opens his eyes, Malfoy is still there beside him, resting his head on the back of the bench, pushing the pram wheel idly with one foot so that the whole thing rocks gently back and forward. He must sense Harry moving, because he yawns hugely and then blinks at Harry, or maybe into the sun, which is now setting behind Harry. At some point, the street musician must have moved on, because everything has the quiet, winding-down hum of early evening.

“This idea might be utterly mad,” Malfoy observes in a whisper, since both babies are, miraculously, still asleep. “I don’t know, since I’m so sleep-deprived I think my sense of reason has been affected. But would you possibly like to do this again sometime?”

“What, present each other with root vegetables and then fall asleep next to each other on a public bench?” Harry asks, amused. “No one could ever say we don’t know how to have a good time, I suppose.”

“Are you lonely?” Malfoy asks abruptly. “You seem lonely. Is that okay to say? I was watching you, you know, trying to buy your vegetables, and you looked about as miserable as I feel, and guess what? I was glad. That’s why I came to talk to you. I don’t think I’d have got the courage up if you’d been just standing there in the sunshine all golden and dewy and— and healthy looking—” He waves a hand dismissively in Harry’s general direction, the gesture somehow taking in every exhausted cell of Harry’s body. "Which, by the way, you do. Which is bloody unfair. But you also looked absolutely bloody livid and like you were about to cry.”

“I was,” Harry admits, because if Malfoy is oversharing, he might as well too.

“And I was glad,” Malfoy finishes, with a vicious satisfaction, and sits back. “I would have assumed you’d be really good at this, like you are at everything. No, no, I don’t mean you’re not a good father, Potter, anyone can see you’re hopelessly devoted to your offspring. I just meant, you looked like you were struggling. That you weren’t enjoying yourself. It was… refreshing. Reassuring, in a way. Like I’m not the only one who’s not a natural at this.”

“Albus was an accident,” Harry blurts out, covering the baby's ears carefully with his hands, though he's so deep in sleep he doesn't even stir. “Ginny and I were already separated. She had taken the job in Wales. She didn’t even realise she was pregnant for months, because she was training so hard she thought that’s why she felt tired all the time. And when she told me, I was so happy. She was crying and crying, she hates crying, I don’t know if you know that about her, probably not. But she just couldn’t stop, these big tears sliding down her cheeks. She was completely in shock, and I didn’t care at all. I wanted him, so badly, straight away. I could barely believe I got to have him. It felt like everything I had ever wanted, and that was all that mattered to me at that moment. And now he’s here and it’s like I’m being punished for it. It’s so hard, Malfoy. I’m on my own most of the time. Ginny was meant to have them at weekends, but she’s so busy and I don’t really want them going all the way to Wales without me just yet. And Ginny can’t fly after a week of broken nights, it would be too dangerous. So it’s just me, most of the time, and I’m so bloody lonely. Some nights when I’m up with one of the boys I just stand at the window and look out, just to see if I can find another house with a light on, so I feel like I’m not the only person in the world.”

“Wow,” Malfoy says. “That is a lot to be carrying around with you. Emotionally speaking, I mean, though it looks as though you’re overburdened physically too.” He eyes the changing bag with distaste. “Honestly Potter, are you a wizard or not?” He swings a hand over the bag, and Harry sees the tip of his wand sliding into his hand before Malfoy does a complicated little shivery wand movement over the bag. Then he sets his wand tip to the shoulder strap of Harry’s sling and performs a mild sticking charm, giving the sleeping lump of Albus a little pat before he sits back again. “There, that should hold until you get home.”

“Home…” Harry feels a familiar lurch in his stomach, the knowledge that he has forgotten something crucial but can’t quite put a finger on it. “Oh my god, Malfoy. I was meant to be at the Burrow to collect James at five o’ clock. What time is it? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. If I’ve made Molly miss her Witches’ Institute meeting she will hex me sideways.”

Harry stands, Albus wriggling and grumbling at the sudden movement and then subsiding back into sleep. The sling feels secure, more comfortable around the tired muscles of Harry’s shoulders. He grabs for the changing bag, which he lifts easily with one hand, the dead weight of it now lightened. 

“Wow, Malfoy. What was that charm you used on the bag? It’s actually manageable now.” 

“It’s a variation on the Feather-Light charm. Same principle and same incantation but a slightly different wand movement. Makes the results a bit more stable.”

“Nice.” Harry slides the strap of the bag onto his arm. “You’ll have to show me. Next time?”

“Next time,” Malfoy said, then grins, a sudden and charming smile that shows his nice teeth and makes him look younger and somehow softer. He has a dimple, Harry notices, tucked right into the dip next to his lip, easy to miss unless you’re really looking.

“Great, I’ll owl you. And Malfoy— Thanks. For the bag, and listening to me, and… well, everything.”

“And for the carrots.” Malfoy picks up the bunch with a flourish, the delicate green fronds quivering at the movement as he hands them to Harry. “You mustn’t forget those.”

“Well, I think I’m going to get a takeaway,” Harry confesses. “But I shall make sure to put these carefully into the salad drawer of the fridge so that they can moulder away gently there for a few weeks.”

“As is right and proper,” Malfoy replies, very seriously, then the slight quiver of his lips turns to a grimace as a squawk arises from the pram.

“Once more unto the breach,” he says, already moving towards the pram, reaching in to where the blanket is rippling from tiny kicking legs. “I’ll see you soon, Potter.”

“Good luck,” Harry says, tempted to pat him on the back or shake his hand, but catching himself at the last minute and realising how odd it would be to just start touching Malfoy all of a sudden. 

He sets off for the Leaky, hoping that that queue for the Floo won’t be too long. At his chest, Albus sleeps on, and Harry feels the tension leave his shoulders, somehow unburdened.

#Not to start going on and on about craft #but it's incredible how much i've learned about writing in the few years since I started creating fics #i feel much more in control of my process #and also find it easier to work and rework a piece #it's been so useful since i started writing original work #good for patches of writer's block too #as i can go back to older pieces and see how I can tweak and mould them into something closer to what i want them to be. #i mean it's a constant learning process right? #but it does feel like i *am* learning #which is very fun #anyway #drarry #drarry microfic #rowing and writing

[cat-mentality]

It happens at night.

When darkness falls and the moon is not enough to illuminate the world, when the stars dim and the monsters are at their most active.

It happens at night.

They are not silent.

Why would they be?

You hear the laughter first. Always the laughter.

The screams and the laughter mixing together in a cacophony that sends shivers down everyone's spines, the sound grating at their ears.

They are not silent.

Knowing they are coming doesn't mean anything.

Their weapons are rudimentary, not a single enchanted item but the ones they took from previous corpses. Their armor does very little to protect their body but it doesn't matter, they welcome death as a blessing, hug her as an old friend.

They come, as a group.

Always a group.

They destroy the lights first, always. Bathed in darkness, like their senses have gotten intimately familiar with it.

A flash of colorful wings, cracked with dirt and blood and debris, and she laughs and laughs as she descends upon you with a stolen knife. She laughs and laughs as they strike her back, as they kill her, she is still laughing when she comes back and attacks again with her bare hands. Blood coats her whole body and she bathes on it.

Eyes that flash in the darkness, pools of blue consumed by madness, eyes that stared at the void and smiled at it. He smiles with blood red lips as he cuts you with a knife made of bone, he smiles as he licks the blood of the blade looking you in the eyes, a challenge, a plea. He smiles as he tears out pieces of the bodies, as he offers it to his companions like offerings. You never thought monsters could be so beautiful.

A flash of corrupted green, static that cuts the air, whispering things you cannot understand, that you cannot make sense off. He follows, without rest, he tears himself apart as long as it keeps you going and going and going, you blink and suddenly you are alone in the middle of nowhere, he smiles, twisted, eyes poison green. The static consumes you.

A sword you never see coming. A moment you are watching your surroundings, ready for an attack, expecting it because you know you are stronger, knowing that victory is promised to you. It doesn't matter, you don't see the blade until it is sticking from your body, gone in the blink of an eye searching for a new victim to sink into. You never see who is holding it.

A flash of ink black wings, in the darkness of the night you can't even see the spots where feathers do not grow anymore. Before you see the wings you can always feel them approaching, a chill down your spine, the air growing colder and colder, mist surrounding you, heavy, oppressing, the smell of blood and candles mixing together. Your death is an offering, a sacrifice. Blood for the Blood God. A soul for the Goddess of Death.

Eyes that stalk you in the darkness, unblinking, challenging you. He laughs and laughs in good nature as he invites you to kill him, as he begs for a reason to feel something, you can swear that sometimes even as his lips spread into the biggest grin you ever saw tears glisten into his golden eyes, his skin glowing, blessed with the un-death. You kill him over and over and over again. It doesn't matter. You cannot kill what was never truly alive in the first place.

A voice, soft in the darkness of the night, singing. Songs of mirth and joy, some in a foreign language most do not speak but those who do recognize the silly little lyrics, she sings and she kills you, she sings as you kill her, she invites you to join her over and over again, coming back like a lamb waiting to be made sacrifice, grinning, asking you why do you care? Why do you fight? You shiver once more as you sink your sword into her knowing she will be back and you still wouldn't have an answer to her question.

They die.

Over and over and over and over and over.

An unending circle of death and resurrection, of blood and pain and screams and laughter and madness.

They don't care.

They come back with the night, they bring darkness, they bring death like a second skin, they laugh and they laugh as they kill and as they die.

This is not Purgatory, they will crackle with blood dripping from their mouths, this is Hell.

Why do you care, they ask with genuine curiosity as you sink diamond blades into unprotected flesh, Why do you care.

Join us, they chant as they disappear into the shadows as the sun threatens to appear, join us, join us, join us.

We will wait for you, the last words spoken before they are gone, when you realize, we will be waiting for you.

You don't relax even when you can't hear their laughter and screams anymore, when you can't feel the madness spreading, consuming.

They will come when the night returns.

They always do.

#good day im still insane #there is so much i want to write i don't even know where to start #this just felt very appropriate im thinking of doing one for each team but still don't know #i was possessed to write this i was in the middle of something else actually #qsmp #qsmp purgatory #team bolas #qsmp cellbit #qsmp philza #qsmp jaiden #qsmp baghera #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp carre #qsmp foolish

[spookygibberish]

Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.

The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.

A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.

#haven't posted them much (all wips) but been thinking about the sphinxish people in my setting. same world as thrones #different part of the continent like 2 whole seas away #this is inspired by a shitty comic a friend is reading and also thinking some of the writing in the long way to a small angry planet re #hostile aliens really really sucked. #i want to talk abt this more so im posting it if you have thoughts i would like to hear themmmmm #i'm very cynical about this kind of stuff lmao #dogstock #im also reading tollkien rn so im thinking about ORCS #i dont actually like the lotr trilogy all that much but not even bc i think the writing is bad i just think its kinda boring. sorry. #thats not a very interesting reason to not like something i dont even think its not good im just not super entertained. rip #like not saying there is no issue with it at all writing wise there is very much to say abt how it is utterly and uncritically #white good black bad fair elves and dark orcs and shit like that #but i've liked things more that have bigger issues. hi pern. maybe i just like shlock! idk! #rambling. im keyed up hi #the gibberish in spookygibberish

[yeommijeong]

Set in Sanpo Village where more people leave than remain, the three Yeom siblings, Chang-hee, Mi-jeong, and Gi-jeong, wish to escape from a life rife with uncertainty. A mysterious man, Mr. Gu, moves into their neighbourhood. He is a drunkard with the look of someone with many burdens and secrets. His cautious personality and preference for keeping to himself make him the subject of gossip. Mi-jeong, the youngest and most timid Yeom sibling, decides to approach him. 

One year with My Liberation Notes (2022) ✎

#my liberation notes #edit: my liberation notes #editcheenee #kdramaedit #kdramagifs #kdramadaily #kdramasource #asiandramasource #userpinenut #syaring #useraubri #moonlightsdream #haeyeongs #lextag #HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO MY BELOVED SHOW #this took…… a very long time #but it was worth it because i got to look back on how much i loved my liberation notes #i wanted to write fic for the anniv but i got too busy #but since this is dedicated to the entire show… i definitely need to write something dedicated to gumijeong right >:-)

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

#ganondoodles talks #also probably sounds like self pity #but this feeling hits everytime i see a super popular artist be the popular cool artist #i am a little weird i know that and thats not somethign bad i think #but the internet never gets to see that much of me #i tend to write posts when i am at my worst bc it has to go somewhere #so the image it tells people is that im a weirdly strong opiniod freak that gets breakdowns over nothing #i also dont feel like im otherwise -cool tm- enough to balance that out #i dont think my art is as stylized or as inventive as others nor am i cool to interact with bc idk how to be cool to interact with #i feel double bad when i misstepped with someone i used to talk to bc of something stupid ... or just dont know what i did wrong #im guessing its especially when i am in that spiraling state of mind where i really am not myself tbh #it still feels very bad bc i feel like i can never make it up to anyone again #sorry i acted like a jerk my brain was exploding in emotions in a desperate attempt to deal with something idk how to deal with- #-and made me not act like myself but now i feel really dumb about it #doesnt sound like a good excuse #... i want to thank those that do stick with me #even if i acted strange sometimes- even if i disappointed sometimes- even when i couldnt keep a promise #there are little things that still make me angry at myself #like that one time i asked in the tags whod read as long as the end of them and if someone did shoudl send me an ask so id draw a lil thing #and i got two #and i kept trying to remeber oh shit i need to do that and forgetting again/not having energy for it in a loop #i still feel like a jerk about it but now its probably too late #i wish i could answer all asks i get but man my energy for that is always rock bottom #no matter how much i enjoy the ask #and i love getting asks!!! #im sorry :((

[13eyond13]

love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world

#im talking about griffith btw #guts i feel i get intuitively - maybe because i have some personality traits in common with him #and we get more about his life concretely told to us in canon. so he is a bit easier to pin down as a character and feel attached to for me #but whenever i was reading the manga i just kept wanting more insight about griffith's actions and feelings #like ok yeah its fun to have mysterious antagonists and suspense /tension etc but its also fun to feel like you deeply understand them too #and i felt like that was a bit missing from him for me in canon #so reading about him in analysis and fics is the most fun for me rn #he always felt kinda half unreal to me- which maybe was the point of him - but i wanted a bit more about his childhood or something? #and wished we had more stuff explicitly from his pov in the story to read or explanation about his transformation or wtv #and now he's so much more closed off to me even than he was in the golden age. i keep waiting for him to explain stuff and he does not #ANYWAYS all this rambling to say some people out there are very good at interpreting him and making his like. insecurities #more obvious to me bc i didnt really get that side of him from canon intuitively well #also im really enjoying reading the first few berserk fics ive read #there may not be a ton of them out there but there is def writing talent in the fandom #i'll share some recs once i'm done sifting through most of what's out there to read #also (not to tie everything back to death note but it IS my home fandom after all) #i feel griffith is obvs the more light-like character here and L maybe a bit guts-like? but unlike berserk in death note #light is the one you get to know best and L is the mysterious / unreal one you don't get a lot of concrete insight into #and in the DN fandom I can read the more mysterious character intuitively but had to warm up to the less mysterious one instead #and the mystery of L makes sense to me and doesnt bug me as much due to like - he HAS to hide a lot about himself or else he will die lol #so some similarities there but also some opposite feels as well #berserk spoilers #p

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

The internet is a beautiful place. I can search for something so absurdly specific and tailored to my interests and still be able to find something about it I disagree with that makes the whole thing less meaningful to me.

Several months ago I was able to find a whole collection of slutty transfem lesbian Asbestos fanfiction, only to get part way through and think “hey wait she would not get bottom surgery” and find the rest of the works in the collection less enjoyable because of it

#like this is asbestos we’re talking about. there’s not a lot of fanfiction of her in general #and I was able to find all that that was so fitting for my specific wants #and still find an issue with it that I don’t like #and I just think that’s hilarious. beggars can’t be choosers but I still try #(for the record I did still very much enjoy the rest of it. just not as much as I might have) #one day I’ll write magbestos or something and then all my specific wants will be met because how can I disagree with myself #oh wait #asbestos #arknights

[cryptiduni]

“white mourning.”

#‘‘A white mourning. A modern death. Divorce or something similar. All you can do is put more distance between you & him. make him smaller.’’ #jean is a very easy character to hate if you know nothing about him. & you know what they say. easy target doesn’t make for a good practice #judit literally compares harry to intellectually disabled man yet you don’t see ppl hating her because she is outwardly nice. #she’s polite yes but she doesn’t care as much as jean cares for harry #he is not perfect. he is mean. but loyal. if he truly didn't care he wouldn't hab come back to martinaise & coulda just reported harry’s as #he put up with du bois’ bullshit for years and built a toxic (totally straight) relationship with him yet always comes back. #he says he will leave you in the village to die but please understand harry isn't exactly a great person. especially pre-bender hdb. #planned a make up joke & put on a wig for hdb even tho he wasn’t the who started the whole fiasco #you can hate him all you want for leaving harry before & during tribunal but how could he have foreseen all this bullshit would have happen #his second leaving is kinda bullshit writing but #jv is dealing with his own demons too. clinical depression. partner almost died. job is shit. case spiraling out control #i do not blame the DE staff either. sometimes shit just happens. not everything needs a grand explanation. #but it definitely coulda been handled better. but i understand. resources were sparse. #i relate to ​jv. as someone with temper issues & attention problems i have to remove myself from the scene or i'll say shit i'd regret late #my man is having the worst week of his life. leave him alone. #kim is great but have u heard of a man who thinks he's old when he is only 30 & luvs horses & his commie boyfriend that he's divorcin' soon #disco elysium #de fanart #jean vicquemare #disco elysium fanart #jean heron vicquemare #jean posting #illustration #de #artists on tumblr #my art #I WANTED TO DRAW THIS FOR MONTHSSS YOU COULDN'T IMAGINE. HE LITERALLY HAUNTED ME IN MY SLEEP!!! #i love him normal amount. very healthy. much feelings #my little maiu maiu

[mydetheturk]

your requested reminder to post knives going nuclear on zazie when you can :)

ok so im going to be reblogging this to the body horrors week later cause. uh. well. knives. quite literally goes nuclear?

all of these screenshots are from the overhaul project cause i haven't managed to catch the dark horse digital editions on sale yet, though i'll provide the dark horse translations where i can because i have physical copies, and the dark horse translations are imo clearer here.

there are ids in all the alt texts for the photos, it's why this took several days longer than i'd originally planned -finger guns- alt texts might look a little weird in the first set btw - tumblr started eating the photoset and i had to spend an extra half an hour fixing it -finger guns-

the pages are volume 11, pages 90-92, and 114-17, because a lot of the pages in between are leadup pages and also have the zazie control worm. thing.

pages 90-2 are the distant explosion (you can click on the first image and see it in the photo viewer, if for some reason it will not view in dashboard mode. But it does exist!)

(on page 90, dark horse is a lot more specific, with "the northeast sky is glowing" instead of "the whole sky is glowing". the other two boxes with text read "what is--?!" and "oh my..!" respectfully as if they were cut off mid sentence.)

so uh.

knives went uh.

literal "nuclear bomb exploded just above a town"

because he kind of did. Unlike a true nuclear bomb, he did not form a mushroom cloud, but the metaphor is still there. that is a nuclear metaphor

per pages 114-117 (pages are from left to right, read the pages right to left. sorry)

(legato's speech bubbles on page 114 in the dark horse edition read: Survival of the fittest is the law of nature. What is about to happen now is a just a logical extension of that. Be very afraid. You are in his presence. Did you not notice, Leader of the Sand Worms?

It reads very differently, imo, more like Zazie was caught up in their own plots and schemes to realize the control worm didn't work. Legato is also telling Zazie that Zazie should be afraid of Knives. Okay? Not asking if Zazie is afraid. Telling Zazie to be afraid. Like some sort of reverse "Be Not Afraid" from the bible.

Zazie's thought bubbles on page 115 are translated as "the dark hole is swallowing the poison" which reads more like knives made a black hole. given the visuals? that sounds more likely. Black holes, as a real life thing that we know about and have tried to study, are often referred to as swallowing things that pass too close. knives made a mini black hole to eat the poison from the sand worm venom. knives has consumed the dependent plants.)

the fact is, as a metatextual read, plants are nuclear reactors. independent plants are walking nuclear bombs. Nightow did this on purpose. We're meant to read them as something nuclear.

This is, as i was saying to @needle-noggins the other night when i was working on it in an attempt to get more of the alt texts written, a casual display of power. Knives is throwing a hissy fit! Knives is throwing a multi-megaton display of power because Zazie tried to take him over with the control worm. Page 91 had needle-noggins and i speechless because on the low end that tower of debris from the explosion is (if we did the very, very rough math right) THIRTY MILES TALL. Twice as tall as the tallest mountain in the solar system, Olympus Mons! or roughly five and a half times as tall as Mount Everest. On the outside, because we figured its anywhere from 25-30 times taller than the cloud cover, it could be up to thirty seven miles

Over halfway to space on earth.

like.

I know we love the independent plants and all. But Holy Shit. just.

holy shit

#myde talks #trigun #trigun maximum #trimax #millions knives #zazie the beast #legato bluesummers #long post #trigun meta #meta #writing alt text is very hard for me i am trying very hard to make them both descriptive but also not too bogged down with details #if i miss something in them PLEASE TELL ME #i am trying #i also started writing this at like midnight on friday night and then was continuing it on saturday after work and lemme tell you #hell is real and it is working retail during the holidays on saturday #anyway #if someone wants to give my INCREDIBLY ROUGH ESTIMATE of how much bigger the tower of debris is than gunsmokes cloud cover #please do #im curious