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#in the rest of the fic
lgbtlunaverse · 3 months
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There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.
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ash-and-starlight · 9 months
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The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀
Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.
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anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck
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(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)
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time-woods · 6 months
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cue the meet-cute ! (cosmic office romcom))
first introduction !
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ao3commentoftheday · 9 months
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I'm going to start this post off by saying that I write fic, and I know the pain of putting something out there and not getting a response. It sucks and it hurts and it puts a dent in my self-confidence. If I have the choice between posting a work on AO3 and getting only comments or posting a work on AO3 and getting only kudos, I'll probably choose comments let's say 8 times out of 10.
But with that in mind, posts that attempt to shame or guilt readers into commenting don't actually work.
Negative reinforcement (in the form of shame, guilt, or other worse emotions) doesn't make anyone want to do the thing. It just makes them want to avoid the guilt, etc. Rather than encouraging someone to talk to you about your writing, you're making that person want to avoid you so that they don't have to feel bad. That's just human nature.
I've said before that I think a lot of writers are looking for community rather than comments, and I still think that's true. The reason I love both writing and receiving comments is because it makes me feel like I've made a connection with someone. I may never know their real name or what they look like or where they live or anything else but what fandom we have in common, but we've reached out to each other in this text-based medium and we've shared words that made each other feel something.
I know that these posts are written out of frustration or loneliness or needing support or a hundred other reasons I could list off the top of my head. But when I read "you should be grateful for the things I give you and show me proper appreciation" it just reminds me of my parents telling me to clean my room or to follow the rules while I live under their roof.
It's so much more vulnerable to admit, "I don't know if this story is any good and I really wish someone would reassure me right now."
It's much harder to say, "I feel so alone in this fandom, and I want to make friends with someone."
It's difficult to admit, "I worked so hard on this for so long and I'm so tired, but if someone out there likes it then all of that effort will be worthwhile - and if no one says anything, then I'll feel like my effort was wasted."
I'm not trying to shame the people who made those posts, and if that's how this comes across then I'm sorry. I'm just trying to explain why I think those posts will harm more than they help.
I also hope that any readers who see this post will understand that those writers are just people who are feeling a lot of different ways, and they're venting their frustrations. I've been there. I've reblogged those posts before when I was feeling frustrated like that too.
If you're able to comment, those comments are appreciated. If you're not able to comment (for whatever reason), that's okay too. ❤️
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guileheroine · 1 month
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i forgot to post this sketch of the everthere wedding fic that @pichikui made last year 🤍💜 !!
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sunriseverse · 1 year
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other people have said it more eloquently but honestly the biggest thing that has helped me as a writer is lowering my expectations. yes, i might want to get a certain wordcount written in a day, but that’s not always going to be possible for me. but there’s other things i can do that count—i can jot down notes about how i want a scene to go, or talk it out with a friend, or doodle little portraits of the characters. all those are things that help me work towards my endgoal for whatever it is i’m writing, and none of them are “less” than actually sitting down and writing five hundred, one thousand, five thousand words—just different.
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happy birthday to one of the greatest fics of all time <3 ( @bisexuallsokka , thank you for writing this masterpiece.)
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biaswreckmepls · 1 year
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A moment of silence.
This isn’t usually what I post, especially since I’m not an Aroha, but I’m moved to tears to do this. My thoughts and prayers go out to all of Moonbin’s family and friends right now. My heart is truly breaking. Sua, Sanha, Jinjin, MJ, Rocky, Eunwoo, Seungkwan, SinB, Chanwoo, his family, we’re all thinking of you. I hope everyone respects their privacy and their need to grieve, and I also hope we are all able to celebrate his beautiful life and all that he was, and all that he gave to it. Kind, gentle, incredibly talented, I can’t imagine what could’ve happened that got him to get to this point. My foundation feels shaken to its core.
Moonbin-ah, I hope you know how much you were loved, and how sorely you shall be missed. You have left a beautiful legacy behind you, and yet it was nothing compared to all you could’ve done. You remain in our hearts and our memories. You were wonderful.
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Rest In Peace.
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theminecraftbee · 17 days
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Grian had taken her aside quietly. He'd awkwardly talked around the idea of her remembering now; apparently, he didn't know if her victory counted. She'd rubbed the back of her head and hadn't quite realized what he was talking about and said something about the games and, ah. Apparently she does remember now. Apparently the victory counts. Apparently this means he needs to say sorry.
Cleo considers not accepting the apology. Grian would get the wrong idea then. If she said: you don't need to apologize for shit, or maybe, there's nothing to apologize for, he'd take that as: you are exactly as bad as you're convinced you are. Honestly, Cleo's not sure whether that means Grian would decide he'd done nothing wrong or everything, but that's besides the point.
She'd never not remembered, is the point.
Frankly, Cleo hadn't realized people were meant to be not remembering. She's honestly a bit embarrassed not to have figured it out. Surely that can't be right. Cleo has held every single slight and every single ally and every single person she has ever connected to right in her ribcage, next to where her carved-out, unbeating, torn-up heart lies, the entire time these games have gone on. Each game, a new fact carved into the bone that makes them up.
Names ribbon around her memories. Bdubs and the Crastle and Scott and soulmates and Pearl and friend-turned-foe and Etho and survivor and Bigb and traitor and Scar and son and everything else. She wouldn't be the same at all if she didn't remember. Everything she is, it's built on top of everyone that was.
Maybe it's a zombie thing. The undead are said to be memories that can't fade as much as anything else, after all.
But she can't really explain this to Grian, of course. If nothing else, that would require explaining the place he's taken next to her heart, too, and frankly, that's way too mushy for the both of them. What ends up coming out her mouth is: "Oh. Does that really change anything?"
Grian stares at her a moment.
"You know, I guess not?" he says.
"Right then," Cleo says. "Cool. Good to know my victory means nothing then."
Grian squawks. "You can't just say it like that! That's depressing!"
Good enough.
She buries 'not-supposed-to-remember' 'not-sure-if-it-counts' 'laughing-as-scott-dies' and 'I-have-always remembered' in the same place in her ribcage, so she won't forget it, and then she does the thing that sets her apart from the common zombie:
She moves on.
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ghostbsuter · 4 months
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"Hello there, little comet."
Robin wirled around with his sword pointed, standing still just before the skin of the others throat.
"Always so tense." The person teases and Robin tuts, pulling his sword back.
"Still obnoxious as always, Wraith."
The man chuckles lightly, stepping out of the shadows with a wave. "Have you learned any slang now that you live with your father? Fitting in is one of the most important skills for an assassin."
Robin scowls. "I'm not an assassin anymore."
The man is undeniable smiling beneath the mask, green eyes crinkling. It has Damian feeling all soft and squishy, he turns around with a huff, kicking the ridiculousness of those feelings away.
"You have grown."
"I have."
"I'm glad."
Robin averts his eyes as his comm comes to life, crackling in his ear. "Robin, mugging happening around the corner from your position."
He gives his acknowledgement, turning back to the man—
Only for him to be gone.
Damian sighs. "Until then, brother."
He leaps across the buildings, stepping in as the mugging happens.
(Usually, I would put this in the tags, but I'll put it here now for some background!)
Wraith, also formally known as Danyal al Ghul, son of Talia al Ghul and Lady Shiva.
He is younger than his sister, Cass, but older than Damian. During his league days, his loyalty stayed towards Talia, always has until he met Damian as a baby.
He became his guard, much like Cass was supposed for the Demon Head, one of the few teachers Jason had after and went on missions with.
Does he reappear later again? Who knows! He is still with the League, under Talia's command while sticking close to Ra's. A spy if you will.
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bizarrelittlemew · 6 months
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calling it right now that season 3 starts like this
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wispscribbles · 4 months
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I want to eat your art and writing thank you so much
Haha well I'm always happy to keep you all fed. Here, have some old sketches <33
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choccy-milky · 3 months
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DARK RELIC COMIC 🔞NSFW🔞
((cw: NON-CON & breeding kink))
TWITTER
POIPIKU
(this is an AU scenario where clora and seb never actually started dating, so the relic corrupts seb to finally do certain... things...👀 enjoy, fellow degenerates🥰😇)
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canisalbus · 6 months
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hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128
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✦ A Voi ✦
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the-witchhunter · 1 year
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DP x DC: Clown Car
Based off THIS
Danny, having gotten really into circus and clown history, culture, and craft, has decided to mess with the Joker. Not just because he’s a villain, but because he’s a shitty clown. And Danny is willing to out clown him to prove his point.
The Clown Car incident
No one knew what to expect when a small car drove up to the Joker in the middle of his dramatic villainous speech. By the look on the Joker’s face, he didn’t know what to expect either. 
The mysterious clown had been harassing him for a few weeks now. A foiled heist here, a botched plan there. So it wasn’t entirely unexpected for the clown to climb out of the car. What was unexpected was when another clown came out of the car talking to goofing with the first. Then another, and another. Soon a flood of clowns came pouring out, all in different costumes and slightly different shapes but with the same makeup. Some even had “construction” equipment, large rubber mallets, a wooden board carried between two, a bucket of whitewash. One after the other they came, until the Joker was lost amongst a sea of clowns, shouting and fuming, trying to be heard over the honking and shenanigans. 
Joker was pissed, but kept getting caught up in the various bits the clowns engaged in. He got wacked with the board, and managed to get flipped over it, the bucket of whitewash landed on his head. He kept getting tripped and moved about as if he was simply a part of the act. 
In the crowd, Tim Drake recorded the whole thing. A few minutes after it had started, the clowns had packed up and left in their tiny car with a disoriented and confused Joker facing Batman.
Tim sent the video to Dick and Jason, and the mystery clown gained two new fans that day
or
Danny used intangibility and duplication to pull of the clown car solo after spending two weeks making enough unique costumes for each duplicate. 
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ikarakie · 1 year
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it's corroded coffin's first, proper world tour. they've skyrocketed into the public eye within the last few years, and they couldn't be fucking happier. it's all so amazing, so surreal.
they get to indiana. the crowd is electric, the venue bigger than any of the bars or crappy hole in the walls they used to perform in. eddie steps to the mic nearing the end of the second half of the show.
"indiana, it'a a fuckin' pleasure to be with you tonight." he says, a bit lowly, into the mic. screams fill his ears, thousands of smiling faces. but he's after one in particular. "i'm gonna need your help for a minute here, guys." he motions for the lights to go up, grabs the mic from the stand and crouches close to the barricade, squinting.
"i've got someone out there, mixed up in the crowd." he can't help the fond smile as he says it. "and i wanna find him before this next one. take a quick look around ya, if you're next to a guy about my age, fluffy brown hair, big brown eyes, probably in a preppy little outfit and glasses, give me a scream."
everyone's looking this way and that, eyeing the people around them. thirty seconds later there's screaming to his left. eddie crosses the stage, peers into the crowd. the big screens capture the moment he spots him; his eyes go bright, there's a crooked lovesick grin on his lips.
"hey, sweetheart." he coos into the mic. the crowd bursts into cheers and whoops and chatter. the camera cuts to someone at the barricade, having been pushed forward by others. he's exactly as eddie had described, leaning against the railing and smiling up at the star. for a few seconds they gaze at each other like they're the only ones in the room.
then eddie blows him a kiss, which he catches. eddie laughs a little, brings himself back to center stage. picks his guitar back up and settles mic back into the stand.
"this next one," he begins, adjusting the stand slightly. "is something you haven't heard before." there's unmistakable moisture gathering in his eyes. "i wrote the lyrics entirely myself. it's- it's for those people in my life who i couldn't be here without." his eyes stray back to where steve is, watching him with a watery smile. "those who were there, in '86. who pulled me back up from hell. the bravest fuckin' souls i ever met in my life." he takes a deep breath. hears the rest of the fuckers scream from the VIP area, dustin's voice unmistakable.
"this, my dearest indy, is 'knights of the upside down.'"
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