Today’s word is drought and here is the @wolfstarmicrofic that goes with it. Muggle farmer au, you say? Why not.
Remus had tried not to worry. He told himself it was going to be okay, that they would figure something out, but the longer the drought went on, the harder he found it to believe.
They could do nothing but watch as the fields turned yellow and wilted in the scorching heat. They watched as the waterline in the reservoir crept lower and lower, unable to do anything about it.
The worry ate away at them. He saw it in the lines on Sirius’ face, how his smile faded away, brows pulled down and a worried tightening around the mouth that wouldn’t disappear. Remus knew it was mirrored on his own face.
Remus sighed as he pushed the papers away, scrubbing a hand over his face. He felt the beginnings of a headache somewhere behind his eyes, a pounding that had become more and more common recently.
“Remus? REMUS!”
Sirius voice was urgent, excited, a note to it that Remus hadn’t heard in a long time. He stood, pushing his chair back as he quickly climbed the stairs from the basement where they’d built a small office for them to do the paperwork in. He took the steps two at the time, spurred on by Sirius’ shouts of “Hurry, outside!”
Remus felt it before he saw it, the shift in the air, the smell of it. When he reached the front door he saw Sirius in the driveway in front of their house, head tipped back as if in ecstasy, shirtless and wet, his long black hair plastered again his skin. He turned, watching Remus with a wide grin, grey eyes shining as he threw his arms out.
“Rain!”
Remus felt something unclench in his chest, a warmth spreading through him that wasn’t only relief that it’s finally raining but a sudden wave of affection for his husband. He closed the distance between them with a few long strides, mindless of how it’s pouring, savouring the feel of it against his skin. He pushed Sirius’ hair out of his face, cupped his jaw and tipped his head back enough to claim his mouth in a deep kiss, and he didn’t pull away until they were both breathless.
“Rain.”
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Pod fics are the best thing ever. Please if you haven’t already go check out “Making it up as we go” the pod fic. I listened to it for the first time last night and it’s amazing.
Best shit ever.
Trust me.
Go check them out I promise you won’t regret it
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Dear @anobodysposts, I hope you like me gift to you for the @knbexchange! Happy Holidays!
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Relationship: Kasamatsu Yukio/Kise Ryouta
Additional Tags: Public Display of Affection, Kissing, Holding Hands, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s)
Summary:
A walk in the park, Christmas lights, catching the sunset, and quality time with the boyfriend.
What was not to like?
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did Sam just say CARLOS??! I know like two (2) things about the prequel, one is that Dean’s breaking out of Heaven to narrate his first fanfic and the other is that Carlos has my entire heart PLEASE tell me this means he’s still alive
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In the spirit of making up my own canon:
Adam Driver as Ben Solo (29). Force-sensitive. Jedi Knight. His mother's right-hand man. He is quiet, thoughtful, reflective but has a hell of a temper. He known as "The Last Prince of Alderaan". He expects to lead like his mother is the leader of the new Republic. (Think Robb Stark)
Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Bail Solo. Middle child. He is about 27. Ace pilot. Not force-sensitive. He is a little Han Junior except Bail loves being treated like royalty. He loves to drink and he has 6 daughters from 5 different mothers. (Think Oberyn Martell)
Daisy Ridley as Rey Solo. The baby of the Solo children and the only girl. He real name is Breha but everyone calls her Rey. She is 19. Force-sensitive. Training to become a Jedi like her uncle and brother. The thing she loves most in the world working with her dad on The Falcon.
(I also imagine either Ben or Luke as queer.)
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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people are acting like we’re saying creators shouldn’t be paid for their work; they absolutely should. and watcher already is. they have a patreon, they get sponsors, their videos regularly get millions of views which gives them ad revenue, they sell merch; they are getting paid. feeling indignant and disappointed that they’re asking us to pay for content we were already getting for free isn’t entitlement, it’s expected. they wanted to make bigger produced shows and now their budget can’t sustain it, that’s not on the viewer to make up for
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Naomi: “Oh you were there, you just don’t remember it.”
Castiel: “How... how many times have you torn into my head and washed it clean?”
Naomi: “Frankly, too damn many. You’re the famous spanner in the works. Honestly I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis. You have never done what you were told, not completely. You don’t even die right, do you?”
Castiel is The character
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