lil' snippet:
They both blink down at the broken table they'd been making out on a few seconds prior to this. Tsunagu huffs out a laugh and gently shoves at Shinya's shoulders. "Well," He says, because this is honestly the third table they've broken like this. "How many tables is this now? Three? Four?"
"Four," Shinya says sheepishly. "Are any splinters stuck in your pants?"
He checks. "None." The denim-clad hero extracts himself from Shinya's grip on his hips, and stretches. "You know," He says idly. "I've seen you knock people out from a hundred meters away and go back to chatting with your fans-"
"Tsunagu," He says, both pained and flattered. "Please. Not this again."
Ignoring Edgeshot, he continues. "Throw people out of windows, and be angry at someone on my behalf. But this was probably the hottest thing you've ever done. Feel free to do it again, my clothes can take the splinters."
"Our budget can't," He mutters under his breath. "And you need to raise your standards, Tsunagu, I know I've done things-" Shinya gestures at the broken table. "-More... impressive than this."
"We're in the top one hundred pro heroes in Japan, dear," Jeanist points out, sidestepping the second statement. "There's a lot of things we can afford, and a wooden table is most certainly one of them."
He sighs, taking Tsunagu face into his hands. "That was metaphorical. And our budget can take the strain, but my heart can't. The adrenaline rush is something I don't want to repeat."
"...You've thrown me off of buildings before, and this is where you draw the line?" He asks incredulously. "Shinya. Edgeshot. We've made out after villain fights."
"Yes, I know," Edgeshot says, his tone pained. "You've pinned me against walls after them enough times for me to remember."
"And a table breaking is enough for you to draw the line?" Tsunagu's eyebrows are slowly creeping upwards.
---
-story anon (friends?? hi, eclair! :D)
Hehehe hello~~
oh my god i love this-
LMAO this is 100% something they'd do, and its not the first time it happened- please thats so them dfgdj
Tsunagu's just completely infatuated with him no matter what he does, and Shinya is just there like "please pick something else to swoon over, apart from me throwing people out of windows."
rip table, you shall be missed...
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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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When Danny decides to reincarnate, centuries after his adventures, he chooses a random Dimension of Heroes and Villains.
He's expecting adventure! Heroics! A life worth bragging about in the Afterlife!
He wakes up in a tube, staring down at surprised teen heroes as they release him and another person.
Later, he finds out that he's a clone of Batman and Superman, and the other clone is of Superman and Lex Luthor.
He came into this world expecting adventures, not a weird custody battle about him and his brother (because that's what Conner is) between two A-List superheroes.
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There are many new friends on the archive, and many are young and have only known social media, which is why I wanted to say something!
Ao3 does not have an algorithm! It isn't a social media site, it's an archive.
Posting fics on Tumblr isn't the same as posting fics on Ao3
Ao3 is like a giant virtual bookshelf, and everyone is able to add their own stories to the bookshelf, all stored with different tags and different fandoms. Works are automatically sorted by newest to oldest, but filters, looking at bookmarks, and using the search function can change that.
Certain works are not pushed to the top like social media posts. More kudos and reads don't push a single work to more viewers by some algorithm. Unless otherwise filtered, works will be at the top of the page based on how recent it was posted.
Smaller fandoms get less views, less kudos, less bookmarks, and larger fandoms get more simply because of the number of people inside the fandom.
Ao3 is a giant virtual bookshelf- there is no algorithm, and there is no man behind the shelf pushing certain books forward.
Happy reading, and if you'd like to have more people notice a fic, why not share it with them! Send a dm to a fandom friend and it might turn into one of their favorite fics!
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