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#i'll probably never write this
lunarharp · 4 months
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bunch of illustrations i randomly did for my old 12k T narumitsu/wrightworth fic set in the 7 year gap, which i wrote in 2020 :-) also set in the christmas/new year's eve period
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bethanydelleman · 8 months
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It bothers me so much that people latch onto this quote from Darcy but ignore the context around it:
“Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?” “I can answer your question,” said Fitzwilliam, “without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.” “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”
This is the big proof that Darcy is shy/socially awkward/whatever. But there are two answers right there! Colonel Fitzwilliam has an explanation that makes Darcy look far worse: he is rude because he doesn't care to be polite.
Darcy likes Elizabeth, and while I'm sure he didn't outright lie because he's a radical truther, he definitely did not tell the whole truth! Because the girl he likes just called his behaviour "very dreadful" and he needs to make himself look better. And then we know what he says later when he feels actual remorse for his prior behaviour (which he does not feel at Rosings):
I was... allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own.
Where is his problem with conversing now? It's nowhere, because that was never the real problem. I am sure that Darcy does not converse easily with others, because I don't think he lied, but that is not why he was an unsociable asshole at the Meryton Assembly. It's because he did not think the unwashed masses of Hertfordshire were worth him putting in the effort.
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gentil-minou · 7 months
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student council au where wei wuxian ran "as a joke" but won president with lan wangji as his vice president and their shenanigans as wwx uses a sizeable amount of their budget for carnivals and student events and lwj just...lets him
his uncle, the principal, asks him what on earth are you doing and lwj just takes out a research paper that shows the benefits of fun and relaxing activities on student mental health while wwx is shooting a t-shirt canon at the crowd behind them
there's a sofa in the student lounge that wwx uses to take naps and everytime he does his shirt rides up revealing a sliver of skin and lwj has one hand in a tight horny grip as he calculates how much of their budget they can devote to a bunny petting zoo even though the insurance will be a nightmare but wwx really wants one so he will get one.
(at the petting zoo, wwx tells him the bunny petting zoo was a birthday gift for him)
(lwj kisses his big stupid perfect little face)
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galvanizedfriend · 1 month
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KC Wip Wednesday
This is my humble contribution to WIP Wednesday! It's a scene from the rewriting of TVD S5 - Yokan's version. In it, The Originals never happens, most of the Mikaelsons remain in Mystic Falls and Klaus and Caroline are kind of a thing, but nobody knows (for sure). Remember that moment where Katherine locks herself up in a safe with Stefan to "cure" his PTSD? It's that, except it's Klaus, not Katherine. This alludes to a very Klefan past, btw. Be warned if you're not a fan.
Also, this is for @definedareasofuncertainty, who wanted me to write her Easter Klefan. 🤧 There you go, friend! And you know, not beta'ed and all that.
--
Klaus lies on his back, takes a calm breath as the heavy door is closed with a thud, engulfing them in absolute darkness. All in all, he'd say a metal box is hardly the most uncomfortable setting he's found himself in. He prefers the comfort of first-class accommodations, but he's traveled in worse. The grown man beating about beside him does make things rather unpleasant, though.
"Stop! Caroline! Get me out of here!" Stefan screams, smashing his fists against the iron safe's indestructible structure. The more desperate he gets, the more uncoordinated and weaker his movements become, thus making the effort completely useless, however accomplished in making the experience all the more miserable for him.
It's embarrassing how incapable Klaus is of saying no to Caroline whenever she asks for a favor. Locking himself up in a box with a traumatized Stefan has to be an all-time low. The things he won't do when she bats her eyelashes and says please.
"Oh, stop it," he remarks in a bored tone as he shoves Stefan aside. The old safe is rather spacious, but definitely not enough to comport two men, particularly if one of them won't stop bloody writhing like a worm in hot sand. "The more you scream, the more breathless you become." The more I want to tear your vocal cords to shreds.
"Get me out of here, Klaus, get me the fuck out of here!"
"Relax, Stefan. I'm here to help," he says. "I'm what you would call a greater agony to alleviate the smaller pain you feel being trapped inside the box. It's reverse psychology, or so Caroline read in a book. What do you think of a little werewolf venom high to speed up the process?"
"You're psychotic. You're fucking insane!" Stefan starts pounding on the box again. "Caroline! Caroline, open up! Open it now!"
"I'm sorry, Stefan!" comes her muffled apology. Even through the metal barrier she sounds thick with guilt. It was her idea, but already she's cracking. That bleeding heart of hers… "I'm sorry, I will -"
"Do not touch that box, Caroline," he commands with his full authority. "Leave it."
There's a long pause, the sound of Stefan's heart hammering away inside his chest in the box as they wait to see what she'll do. A beat goes by before she mumbles a final sorry and scurries away, likely to avoid the temptation of putting poor Stefan out of his misery.
Klaus' lips pull into a grin. "Good girl."
Stefan starts shaking beside him, his breath becoming even more labored. "I can't breathe," he gasps. "I can't - I can't -"
"You don't need to breathe, Stefan. It's all in your head," Klaus reminds him pointedly. "A vampire having a panic attack, honestly. When you think you've seen everything…"
"You're not fucking helping!"
"Pardon me. My bedside manners have gone a little rusty since the last time you've experienced them." Klaus casts Stefan a glance, sees the way his eyes widen in horror, his body growing stiff as a rod, and he can't contain the self-satisfied smile that draws across his lips. "We did once find comfort in each other's company, didn't we?" Stefan makes another panicked sound, smoothing his hands across the cold metal door above them, trying to find a way out. Klaus chuckles. "Don't worry, mate. Caroline can't hear us. Your sordid little secret is safe with me. It's just us here, alone under the cover of darkness. Nothing we haven't done a dozen times in the past. Ahh, the 20s…" he speaks around a dramatic sigh. "It was the roaring years, indeed."
"What are you doing?"
"Making conversation."
"I don't want to talk to you, I especially don't want to talk about that." Stefan nearly chokes on the last word, inching as far away from Klaus as the confined space will allow, as though the mere idea of touching him fills him with utter revulsion. Klaus knows better; it's the way he remembers exactly how it didn't what terrifies him.
Anybody who's met this watered down, colorless version of Stefan would never be able to tell how much of a free spirit he used to be. He was fun. A far cry from the shivering man beside him now. Tragic, really.
"I know you like to pretend it never happened. Frankly, you've become quite an embarrassment of your former self, so I wouldn't proudly advertise it either. This bunny-eating, crying in the dark skin you're wearing these days is someone is wouldn't be caught fraternizing with if you were the last human being on earth."
"Then leave me the fuck alone already."
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not here for you," he snaps back. And then, putting a leash on his rising temper, he continues, "But since I have to be… I can recognize that there was something about that time we had together that suited us both, more than just for the obvious reasons."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Sure you do. I was a tool for you."
"A tool for self-destruction."
Klaus huffs out a disdainful breath. "I was a balm to your tortured soul, Stefan, even at a time when you embraced your true self. I indulged you because you amused me, but at the end of the day, when we were together, it was all rather transactional. It wasn't about sentimentality or a shared appreciation for extravagance. It was about the hollow inside us. The fact we were always desperately seeking to fill it with… Anything, really. Whatever we could find. Passions. Pleasure. Violence. Cravings. But it never lasted, did it? Those things lack a purpose. They're all flitting in their essence, an immense explosion of satisfaction followed by… Nothing. We were both hungry, and we kept trying to find the thing that would sate us. You had lost your mind; I had lost my home. Like drawn to like." Klaus turns his face to Stefan, finds him staring back, eyes glinting with an emotion he can't quite read in the gloom. He always did fancy Stefan's eyes, though. There is something raw about them, something honest for a change. A little opening to the truth in his soul he tries so hard to hide from the outside world. "That's what the darkness is, Stefan," he continues. "Loneliness. It's what restrains us. The monster we cannot outrun. When it all stops - the laughter, the liquor, the hunger - and everything goes quiet around us, that's when we feel it. The curse of eternity. The weight of our years, deep in our bones. And the inevitable loneliness that comes with it. You had your names on the wall, I had my letters, but when all was said and done… We were both stuck in infinite darkness. Except for a few glorious stolen moments, in that repulsive room of yours." The corner of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided smile. "I was the bigger monster you needed in order to humanize yourself. Whatever you were, I was worse, and so I assuaged your guilt. Much like me being here right now. But then of course you found religion!" He laughs, closing his eyes and facing forward once more. "Your spiritual path towards the light. Elena Gilbert." He enunciates the name like it's coated in something toxic. His general distaste for Elena goes further than the fact she has thwarted so many of his plans. It's the boring saint act he cannot get over.
"Yes," Stefan says, his voice rough. "And then I lost her."
"Right. Because she chose your brother." Klaus chuckles. Stefan shifts uncomfortably beside him, the urge to hit him palpable in the air. It only spurs Klaus on. "How so very tacky. No taste, that one. Personally, I think there's no amount of blue eyes or good sex that can make Damon tolerable. What a wanker. I just want to bash his face against a wall whenever he opens his mouth."
Stefan scoffs. "Get in line."
"It's ironic, isn't it? You were at your absolute best behavior, weeding out all of your instincts, everything that made you fun and interesting in order to fashion yourself into a fairy tale prince for her, and what does she do? She chooses the dullard bad boy. Typical." Klaus shakes his head. "Ungrateful little -"
"Shut up."
"Martyr," he finishes with a smirk. "She probably thinks she's going to fix him, doesn't she? I bet he encourages it. But that's the difference between you and Damon, isn't it? Even with all your valiant efforts, you know creatures like us cannot be fixed. We're beyond salvation."
He gets a sudden twinge in his chest, an image flashing in his mind. A smile as bright as the sun. Hair the color of wheat. He sees her shifting under his sheets, feels the warmth of her touch, the brush of her rosy lips against his skin. It ignites a sense of joy inside him unlike anything else, a sense of possession, of belonging, of having found something that is far more precious or rare than any of the hundreds of treasures he's collected over the course of his life. But along with it comes the ever-present fear. Of loss. How long before he ruins her, like he's ruined everything else he's ever cherished? How long before he hurts her, even if he doesn't mean to? Before his darkness tarnishes her and kills that smile? Before she decides he's not worth it?
"How do you make yourself worthy?" he asks, the question tumbling out of his as though of their own accord. "How do you earn the affections of someone so…"
"Good?" Stefan finishes for him, reading his thoughts. "With sunshine and rainbows shining out of their eyes? Someone like, say… Caroline?" Klaus goes quiet, all his humor bleeding out of him in a second. "You don't," Stefan answers his own question. "You'll never be good enough for her, Klaus. Just like I was never good enough for Elena. Not really. The truth is they deserve much better than the two of us." He sighs, deflating with resignation next to Klaus. "I guess we did make quite a pair, you and I."
"Then perhaps we should die together," he says with an edge of aggression, his mood taking a sudden downturn. He's suddenly irritated. With Stefan, with this ridiculous situation, with himself for agreeing to that. "You and I, in a box, at the bottom of a quarry. Over and over again, drowning in suffering for all our sins and the women we don't deserve. How about that?" Silence stretches out between them, absolute. There's no response from Stefan, but there's also no pounding pulse, no disgruntled breaths. "Oh, look," he says dispassionately. "Someone's not having a panic attack anymore. Congratulations. You've conquered your fears. All you had to do was remember there are worse things than dying."
Klaus gives one violent kick on the door, sending it flying off its hinges. He pushes himself up, stepping out of the safe.
Caroline comes whooshing in, eyes wide as she takes in the state of the safe, the way Stefan is still down, cowering from the sudden burst of luminosity.
"What did you do to him?" she demands.
Klaus' mouth inches upward into the barest hint of a grin, no mirth whatsoever. "I fixed him."
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adastraetretro · 14 days
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"Does it hurt?"
"I'll be okay."
"That isn't what I asked."
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iwonderwh0 · 10 months
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Another fic idea that I'll never write:
Connor accidentally transfers from his body and temporarily exists as non-physical entity in Hank's devices
Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.
At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of
"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"
Then
"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."
Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write
"Connor?"
New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"
"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response
Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines
Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it
"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then
"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."
Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"
Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type
"3 min"
Then search for headphones
"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"
"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"
"So you're in my computer... How did that-"
"Am I still connected?"
Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.
"Did you feel that?" Hank asks
"Feel what?"
After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.
Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)
So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.
During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.
Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.
The first thing after finally being able to feel physically present like an actually existing person? A hug. Of course.
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becca-e-barnes · 1 year
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Hi Becca! I would literally die for you blog. It’s my go to any time I need some good self care😉. You’re incredibly talented!
But I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head. It boils down to just Bucky and cock warming. Like the reader is on him begging for more but he is just having way to much fun playing with their clit to start moving. Making them cum on him with out thrusting once.
Just an idea I thought you might like. I love you work, have a great day!!
I'm really glad you've been enjoying my stuff so much!! That's so sweet!💗 and I keep getting told I can get ✨filthier✨ so I'd love to mess with this is little bit
Because I love the thought of Bucky making you start off with a dildo that's just a little bit smaller in size than he is. Maybe one of those dildos with a suction cup on the bottom so it's stuck on a wooden chair.
"Good girl, take it all." He encourages, kneeling between your legs, watching your cunt greedily swallow the toy. It's a sight he doesn't often get to see and he's really not sure why he doesn't make a point of watching it more often.
You whine quietly, feeling the toy bottom out. Your ass makes contact with the cool, varnished wood beneath you and you can't help but roll your hips a little, enjoying the feeling of the tip rubbing against your velvety walls.
"If I wanted you to fuck yourself on that, I'd tell you to. Did I tell you to?" Bucky's voice has a sharp edge that almost knocks you out of your daze.
"N-no... But-" You begin, trying to justify your movement but he cuts you off.
"No. So don't. I want you to keep your cunt stuffed and take what I give you." He watches up at you as he presses your knees apart, keeping his eyes on your face until he can't bare it anymore.
You gasp quietly at the feeling of his hot breath on your exposed, slick sex and there's nothing you can do but whimper at the feeling of his tongue gently grazing your clit.
Fuck, it's good. It's not long before he's licking you like he's starving, lapping and sucking gently on your clit before forcing your legs wider apart to lick your arousal from the base of the toy.
"Bucky, please. Please let me move." You didn't mean to sound so pathetic but with each lick, you get closer and closer to an orgasm you won't be able to stop. An orgasm you've been warned you're not allowed to have.
You're almost surprised he takes pity on you, giving you permission to get off the toy. He removes it from the chair and sits down in it's place, offering his cock as a replacement.
You sit back down as you had earlier with your back to his chest but you can't help but feel amazed at how much better his dick feels. He's slightly bigger and while that's nice, nothing beats the way he throbs inside you and the hot, breathy groans against your ear at the feeling of your body taking all of him.
"Such a good girl." He smirks against your neck, littering your skin with kisses between his soft praises. You feel one of his hands on your chin, gently directing you to look to your right, over in the direction of the full length mirror.
The reflection you're looking at makes your walls flutter involuntarily because fuck, you really are stuffed full of his cock and he's making sure you're not able to fully enjoy it yet.
With one hand still holding your head in place, making sure you keep watching, Bucky's free hand trails down between your legs, flicking and rubbing your clit again.
"Oh f-fuck." You whine, watching Bucky's smirk widen. You can't sit still. You just can't. You want to grind your hips and take what you need and in that moment, his pleasure and all the instructions he's given you come second. You need to get off, consequences be damned.
"Don't even fucking think about it." He warns, delivering one harsh slap to your clit. It's not overly hard but it's enough to shock you. "You know you're not allowed to cum. I want to feel this pretty pussy dripping first. Don't worry though. Once you're wet and messy enough, I'll fuck you stupid on the carpet, right in front of the mirror. Want you to watch yourself cum so hard you forget your own name."
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oddthesungod · 10 months
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Had this idea for a harengon arcane archer in the back of my head for ages now, so decided to put it to paper lol Arlot is a knight of the Spring Court, he has pledged his life to an archfey prince, and after the prince disappeared suddenly he decided to leave the Feywild in search for them!
Posted using PostyBirb
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sweetandfunky · 2 years
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I fucking NEED a fic where Babs, Jay and Tim all work together to quietly take out the Joker and no one is any the wiser.
Like, Babs who was crippled by him, Jay who was killed by him, and Tim who went through and came out the other side of that Joker Jr bullshit.
They all decide you know what? It just isn't worth it to uphold The Rule when it comes to Joker. Or, well, Babs and Tim get on board with where Jason already was, but they're like "You gotta be more circumspect, dude".
So the three crazy smart, crazy focused, thoroughly traumatized by Joker kids get together, plan it out perfectly, and just ice that dude and disappear the body. Poof. Joker is just gone.
And for the first time in years, all three of them get a halfway decent night's sleep.
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m3rricat · 16 days
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tossing out another (spawn) Astarion headcanon-- I think, in his ideal living situation even with a romantic partner, he has his own bedroom. Not because of a lack of affection or love or anything; maybe he would in fact spend most nights sleeping with them, but he's never had his own space before, to his memory. I think he'd love a place to retreat to that he has no obligation to share, where he could be alone without being bothered when he needed it. And, it would be a place he could make fully his own, where he would finally be able to express himself through decor, color, furniture etc without compromise like he's never been able to before.
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cluescorner · 2 months
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I gave myself a writing challenge and I am fascinated by it
So basically I put the robins in a randomizer to give them a new order/role (because I just...kinda wanted to see what would happen + I like role-reversal AUs) and got results that are giving me a fucking brain blast.
Stephanie, the first sidekick who defines the role
Tim, the sidekick who dies and comes back wrong
Dick, the sidekick who saves Batman from himself
Damian, the sidekick who was never supposed to be a sidekick but would go on to prove everyone wrong
Jason, the youngest sidekick who is still the Kid Wonder
...So this is fucking wild. I've got some ideas and several of these fit perfectly (Dick's role is pretty similar to his one in canon), but some of these are fucking INCREDIBLE to explore (Steph being the first Robin is something I never even considered but tbh I kinda love it).
I probably won't write a fic or anything because tbh I don't like publishing my writing that much, but I might expand this into a full AU and post about it. I might randomize other stuff too (ie, stuff that I cannot change vs stuff that I cannot keep the same) but this fucking rules as a starting point.
#uhhh what am I calling this??#randomizedrobinsau#stephanie brown#oh my god I am so excited to figure out how tf to write this.#because she's my favorite of these characters and having HER be the first sidekick + the one who has a mentor/older sister relationship#with the others?? kickass. though I'll probably keep her and Tim's relationship as 'dating-then-exes' because I think it's funny#and then SHE can be the Robin who Tim got fixated on + figured out her identity?? holy fuck and then the angst of Tim later dying#Tim Drake#tbh I kinda wish he'd gotten a different position because 'sidekick who dies' Tim has kinda been done a lot with the standard#reverse robin aus. But it'll still be fun to write. Definitely going the Joker Junior route with this because Batman Beyond kicks ass#Dick Grayson#He'll honestly probably be the easiest. Like...his role has not changed much outside of being younger/not the one who defines this#But I still think it'll be good to see how well I know Dick beyond his eldest brother thing (which is my best way of relating to him)#Damian al ghul#damian wayne#oh this is gonna kick ass#Bruce does not want his son to be a sidekick but Damian just kinda forces his way into that role#and everybody doubts him because of his history with the league but he later proves himself more than capable#to the point that he can set out mostly on his own and still thrive#Jason Todd#Jason being the baby of the family is also something I have never thought about but holy shit it could kick ass#I really hope that I don't roll 'Jason must die' or 'Robin 5 must die' on the randomizer. I just kinda want Jason to live this time#But unfortunately I double-screwed him because he's on the 'must happen' wheel twice now. I did not think these prompts through#TBH I am so happy that none of them rolled their OG roles. because that would have been so fucking boring
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mering · 6 months
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even the dogs!
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theoddino · 4 months
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*Rises from the grave*
coUgh so uh, I keep forgetting I have a new Tumblr blog now... Whoopsies!!
Please take my silly arts as sorry
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I've also fallen greatly for the ship CornYaoi in the past few weeks soooo maybe look out for a fic of it from me in the future! :>
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hapalopus · 6 months
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Aight so, I've only read about 200 of the +1400 anecdotes Evald Tang Kristensen collected about hillfolk/mountainmen/trolls/dwarves/undergrounders, but already I feel confident saying 1) those used to just be different names for the same phenomenon until nationalistic folklorists came along in the 1800s and wanted to define a "Danish folklore canon," and until they were commercialized in the 1900s which only made them even more separated terms, and 2) the hillfolk bear a lot of similarities with the anecdotes I've heard about djinn - they're primarily people, not "creatures," and they can be as good or bad, as strange or predictable, and as private or outgoing as humans. They really just appear as... people, y'know?? Not human, they live by different customs and have certain abilities that humans lack, but they're people, as much as humans are. There are a lot of vættr who can be defined clearly, like the brook horse, the night mare, or the lindworm, but the hillfolk? You'll have as much luck defining the hillfolk as you'll have defining humans.
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rosalind-hawkins · 1 month
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I'll forever be fascinated with the idea of what Seto would have become if he'd never gotten control of KaibaCorp. What Gozaburo would have turned him into. How much worse he would have gotten without an outlet for the pent up everything negative in his heart.
What Mokuba would have become, once Gozaburo decided to take an interest in his education. How the brothers' relationship might never recover because Mokuba blames his brother for all of this.
What paramilitary training they might have eventually gotten. What crimes Kaiba would probably go on to commit.
How Seto probably would have snapped one day and finally murdered his stepfather to take control.
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bookshelf-in-progress · 7 months
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There's always a danger of caring too much about a story, and then getting paralyzed by the need to do it justice, so it never gets written.
I've solved this problem in the past by writing stories so fast that I don't have time to get too invested, or writing stories that I'm not that attached to.
But maybe the trick is to love the story so much that I want to share it any way I can, even if it's imperfect. To feel that any version of this story is better than the story never getting written at all. To get out of my own way and stop worrying about what other people will think of my writing, or even what I think of my writing, and love the story for its own sake, love the readers enough to want to have the joy of sharing the story with them.
Maybe it'll work. Maybe it won't. But so far it feels like a much better approach.
#adventures in writing#i think inklings has finally born fruit for me#other years i've stayed far away from beloved story concepts#for just this reason#and then i mentally shelved most of those story concepts#recognizing i'd likely never write them in a way that lives up to my imagination#and that probably gave me the distance i needed to pick some of them up again#for one thing the short time frame of inklings forces me to get down to the heart of the concept to fit it into a short story#and the long development time means i've had time to figure out what the core of the concept *is*#what keeps this story lingering in my imagination; which means i know what the good parts are#and then the deadline also forces me to try to write it fast and short#because if i don't write it for inklings i likely never will#and that's a tragedy i want to avoid#having such a clear concept of the story's core#means i can put up with ugly haphazard drafts#because i know what the overall story feels like; i've had years to develop it#so instead of a bad draft proving a story's not worth writing#i *know* that the story's worth writing because it's stuck with me this long#so the ugly drafts are just the building blocks necessary to create the final product#of course the danger is that i'll put out a story and it won't be as cool outside my head#and people will hate this piece of my soul i've poured out to them#but if i love it enough maybe it'll reach that special status#where it means so much to me personally that the wider audience reaction doesn't matter#but before i worry about this i gotta write a draft first
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