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blackbird-brewster · 26 days

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BOOPs were only available on April 1, 2024.

If you OPT-IN, you can boop your moots!!!!

Click opt-in

Look for urls that have 'Boop' next to them

BOOP people to get the special Booper badge!! 🐾

UPDATE:

To SUPER-BOOP someone, you have to be on desktop. Hover your courser over the boop paw button until it shakes. Then send it! (This still only counts as sending ONE boop)

To EVIL BOOP someone, you hover over the boop button for about ten seconds! 😈 (ty to someone in the replies for this knowledge!)

Earn Boop Badges for Your Profile:

1 boop given = Booper (white paw)

314 boops given = Bountiful Booper (orange paw)

1000 boops given = Booper Breaker (black paw)

Other things to note :

While the counter changes to 'MAX' after sending and/or receiving 1000 boops, this does NOT limit your ability to continue in the booping chaos. The counter just stops going up after 1000.

If you want to send a Boop to someone on a side blog, THE BOOP WILL SHOW YOUR MAIN BLOG URL. Much like how following someone or liking a post will show your main url in their notes, even if they only follow your side blog.

You CAN boop yourself and it counts towards your given and received boops. You might even get a funny notification about boop laundering

You can also BOOP THE CAT ON THE BOOP-O-METER!!! (Thanks for the info in this post) Speed hack!

#Tumblr #april fool's day #Tumblr boop #tumblr culture #Boop #BOOP day #april fools #boopometer #tumblr update #1k #500 #2k #3k

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aqours · 11 months

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tumblr is a really unique experience because the website is inherently fundamentally broken but depending on if you're on desktop or on your phone its broken in completely different ways

#starposts #tumblr #tumblr update #staff #tumblr staff #1k notes #2k notes #first post breaking 1k notes on this blog :D #3k notes #4k notes #5k notes #6k notes #7k notes #8k notes #9k notes

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brisskwinds · 1 year

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Walking to get lunch and stopped dead in my tracks upon seeing this posted on a garage

Goncharov has breached containment and none of us are safe

#goncharov #not tagging this as unreality bc it’s a real poster #the movie is fake and not real but the poster was in fact a real thing #update for anyone interested but as of like December the poster was removed #1k #2k #3k #4k

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starry-bi-sky · 8 months

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Childhood Friends Au: Jason

there's something burning in the empty room inside my head fill it up with doubt let it in, let it spread

When Jason gets Tim's text in the groupchat, he ignores it. And then a short series of buzzes distract him from a drug bust. It hasn't even been that long since he reconciled with the family, with Bruce. He thinks that perhaps he should have left it sooner.

He glances at it momentarily when the buzzing stops and he doesn't need to knock out more guys. He sees Tim's question dedicated towards him, and his response is instant, his thumbs flying over in response.

He doesn't care, he's trying to patrol.

(He does not have Danny's number in this phone, it's new. A model from this year rather than one from four years ago. He wants that old phone back. He hasn't even looked at their old letters yet.)

(Jason bets that they've been packed away in storage with the rest of his things. He doesn't want to visit the manor, but maybe he should. Just to find those letters again. He's not sure if he's allowed to.)

And then Tim says its Danny, and Jason flies up to the past texts to find the photo before he can think. And then there is Danny staring right at him again, with the same old smile on his face that he always aimed at people. Lopsided, Danny's favorite kind of smile.

Something old, something new. He's got piercings, and his eyes are as blue as they've ever been. He has an undercut, it looks self-done. It looks good. He looks tired.

Danny's good at hiding things from people, it comes with the purchase of being a street kid. But Jason can't have someone else's back without knowing the ins and outs of the person in question. Jason knows when Danny is tired, and Danny knows when he is too.

Before his death, whenever Danny came over he never missed a beat in telling Jason that he looked like shit. Were Bruce's fancy rich-people, cloud-made mattresses too soft for him? He can find him a moth-eaten street mat for him if he needs it. It'd be like the good old days.

(Jason wishes he could have told him he was Robin, but it wouldn't be safe.)

Jason had to see him with his own eyes, had to confirm with his own eyes just how much Danny had changed. It's just his luck -- if he has any left -- that he arrives to Bruce's dumb gala just as Danny steps out onto their once-shared, west-end balcony.

He drops down, something heavy in his throat, before he can properly think it through. Danny looks up before his feet even touch the ground, like he knew he was there. Jason wonders if he did. There is a cigarette in Danny's mouth. Something old. And something flashes in his eyes that Jason cannot place. Danny looks tense.

Jason feels like he's made a mistake.

In the end, watching Danny walk away feels a lot like Jason is losing something -- or is he missing something? Is it both? He wants to reach out, grab Danny's arm, but his feet are glued to the balcony floor. There are so many things he wants to say, but his tongue has glued itself to the roof of his mouth. Something has crawled into his mouth and died.

So much has been said with so little words. He wants to spin Danny around and ask him so many questions.

What do you mean you spoke to my ghost?

What do you mean I told you the Joker killed me?

What else have I told you?

The Fentons were right?

What happened while I was gone?

Why are you scarred? Where did those come from?

(He is not blind. He saw those silver lightning scars etched into his best friend's skin, saw that it disappeared under his sleeves. Danny did not have those the last time Jason saw him, the last time he was alive.)

(The sight of it makes him alight with murderous intent. He wants to take his best friend by the front of his shirt and shake him -- who did this to you? Who did it? Tell him, he will fix it.)

(But he can't. He doesn't. Doing that means revealing who he is. It means telling his best friend that he has been alive for the last five years and he did not tell him. It would mean telling his best friend that he did not want him to know.)

You're going to kill the Joker for me?

What have I missed?

What do I not know?

You look so tired.

But before he can even get his mouth to move, Danny is gone back inside. The door swinging open, music once muffled now blaring out for only a few seconds before Danny is slipped back inside.

And Jason is left on the balcony, alone, with more questions than he thought he would have. He stares at the broken cigarette on the ground, it feels like a metaphor for something. Jason can't figure out for his second life what it is.

Maybe it's not a metaphor at all, maybe the curtains are sometimes just blue. Maybe sometimes your best friend just tells a vigilante that he is going to murder someone; that he is going to avenge his best friend with his bare hands and feel no remorse for it.

It is what Jason wants Bruce to do, wants someone who loves him to do. But he's not sure if its something he wants Danny to do. Not when he has been living a normal life -- or as normal as it could be -- without hide nor tail knowledge of what Jason used to do, or what he does now.

What have I missed?

Danny. He's missed Danny. He didn't look into Amity Park out of fear of what he'll find; of what he might do. But now Jason thinks he might have to.

Danny has talked to his ghost. Danny is going to kill for him. He has that look in his eyes that Jason knows so familiar; the one where he needs Jason to play distractor while he stole something from the corner store. The one where he looks a kid five years his senior in the eyes and kicks him in the dick because he cornered him and Jason, itching for a fight.

There's a look so familiar in his eyes; the one of a boy that's set his mind to something and he is going to do it. He can't call it the eyes of a cornered animal, because Danny has never been cornered, not when he's been with Jason. He calls it the eyes of a boy about to do something he will never regret.

He watches him leave with the Vlad Masters guy. He hides atop the roof and eavesdrops. The paparazzi have since left now that it was much later in the night; they are not the bigger fish, even if they sometimes parade it to be.

"I thought I told you to make nice." Vlad Masters scowls as he walks to the other side of the sleek black limousine. "To not embarrass me."

Jason frowns at the way he talks. His fingers itch, and something old lurches in his chest: the same old protectiveness that he used to feel whenever he and Danny were about to get into a fight. And then, later, when they would stand inside Bruce's galas with people who couldn't care less if they breathed or died.

Danny scowls right back at him, all venom and bite, and leans against the side of the car. "I did make nice -- as nice as I could when you dragged me here."

Vlad Master rolls his eyes, huffing. Jason's frown only deepens. It's not easy to make Danny do anything he doesn't want to. His sister has tried, so have his parents, as well as his teachers. But Danny is wild and so is Jason. Rebellion and disobedience -- no, independence -- cut into them from the streets like its broken glass.

Jason doesn't remember Danny ever mentioning knowing a Vlad Masters. They must have met after Jason died, then. He doesn't like him. He's the same as all the other socialites in that party. There is a greed in his eyes that Jason knows rots down to the core of him.

"I thought you would enjoy being here, little badger." Masters tries, and his tone makes Jason ruffle. As does the nickname. Danny's scowl only ever deepens, his fingers curling to dig nails into his palms. He looks at Masters like he wants him to burst into flames. "You are friends of the Waynes, I thought you would like the little reunion."

"Whether I did or didn't is none of your business." Danny says. The door clicks open on Masters' side, as if they remembered that they were on the street rather than in the car. Masters climbs into the back, and Danny opens the door. He only reaches in though, and pulls out a old hoodie.

Danny pulls it over his head, and his vest and button-down are hidden underneath it. "Don't wait up you old fruitloop, there's someone here I need to see." And he slams the door shut with more force than necessary.

(Jason makes a mental note to look into Vlad Masters. Who is he to Danny. How did they meet? There is an old animosity between each other that Jason has never seen before. Not even when they were on the streets. Not to this extent.)

Jason's heart seizes up. Danny's reminder early surges to the front of his mind. Right. That's right. He's going to go see him. Jason. He is going to lay flowers on his grave. He remembers that Jason likes zinnias. There are no florists open this late at night, Jason thinks.

He follows Danny from the rooftops. Danny sticks close to the buildings, slipping in and out of shadows. Jason wants to know where he learned how to do that. Where did he learn how to move without a sound?

Five years is a long time to be away from someone, Jason thinks. Something that fills him with dread. Five years is a long, long time. He's afraid that it's been too long. Will he still know Danny like he used to, if he asks? And if he doesn't?

More, more, more. More questions than answers. More things that Jason doesn't know about someone he used know to like the back of his hand. It scares him, and he hates it.

(There is scarring on Danny's hand that Jason has never seen before. Maybe that's the metaphor he was missing before. Maybe there are still more.)

Danny moves like a ghost down Gotham's streets, his hands shoved into his pockets without a care in the world. It is confusing. It is concerning. It is proof that more things have changed than Jason likes.

Danny somehow finds a florist open at this time of night, and buys a bouquet. And like he told the Red Hood, he buys zinnias. Reds and yellows. For a moment, Jason thinks that Danny knows. He wonders if he does.

What would he have told him, if he was a ghost? He told him that the Joker killed him. Maybe that means he told Danny he was Robin too, like he always wanted to. But couldn't, because it wasn't safe, and it wasn't just his secret to tell?

Why has nothing changed, now that he was alive again?

"Did you know," Danny starts, when he sits down at Jason's grave with flowers slipping gently from his fingers, before the tombstone below. Jason is as close as he can without being seen, hiding like a ghost. "That red zinnias mean stead beating of a heart?" He smiles sardonically, "You picked quite the flower, Jay."

(There is an echoing in his ears, Danny's voice faint in the back of his mind. Ghosts can hear you when you speak to their grave, did you know? Jason can hear him better than he should.)

Jason knows the irony. Perhaps it's got double the meaning now, now that he's alive again. Danny doesn't know that though, sitting before his grave with flowers that symbolize a beating heart. Between the two of them, Jason thinks that the only heart here is Danny.

(Between the two of them, the only heart here is one that's made between the two of them.)

"Yellow zinnias," Danny continues, resting his chin in his hand, "mean daily remembrance." His smile tilts on the axis of his mouth, a wrinkle between his brows. He looks pained. Hurt. There is no comment made. Like it doesn't need to be said.

Jason thinks he can hear it anyways, and his heart twists like someone took it and twisted it like a rag, trying to drain the dirty water out of the cloth. He hurts.

I miss you. Is what he hears. Is what Danny doesn't say. Is what Jason knows he's thinking anyways.

I am right here. Is what Jason wants to say, but doesn't. He is right here. But his feet are grave-bound to the floor, and a part of him feels like he's clawing out his own grave again. But the dirt falling is endless and merciless. He can't get free.

He bites his tongue, a lump in his throat. Shame wells in his heart and Jason wants to shrink away from this. His feet are grave-bound to the floor.

"I'm sorry for not visiting sooner." Danny says, hand dropping out of his chin to pick at the ends of his sleeves. His smile fades into a frown. His voice wobbles. "I'm sorry, I don't have an excuse. I should have."

Please don't be. Jason thinks. He doesn't think he can be upset about it, not when Danny is laying yellow flowers on his grave that mean remembrance. i think of you daily. Not when Danny was going to kill the Joker for him.

Jason still doesn't know what to think of that. He still isn't sure if it's real or not.

"I went to one of Bruce's galas today." Danny says, and Jason knows. He saw him there. Danny smiles weakly. "I know, right? First time in five years. Vlad dragged me along, you remember him right?"

No, I don't. Jason thinks, and he feels a flutter of anxiety. A sense of impending doom. A choking dread. What else have I missed? He thinks again. Why doesn't he remember? Danny told him about Vlad, but it can only be from when he was a ghost. How long was he a ghost before he was revived? How often did he and Danny speak?

Jason doesn't like not knowing things, he doesn't like not knowing things about himself.

It would be so easy, a little voice whispers, to reveal himself now. To step forward and take his helmet off. To tell Danny that he was alive. To demand answers that only Danny could know.

But then what? When Danny inevitably asks his own questions? About how long Jason's been alive? Why he was dressed the way he was? Why he didn't say anything earlier, on the balcony?

(But he did say it earlier, when he offered Danny the cigarette and silently asked him for his thoughts.)

Jason is afraid of what Danny might think of him, if he tells him what he's done. About the blood on his hands and the bridges he's burned. What if telling him is just more gasoline on another bridge, with Danny holding the match? He stays silent. Fear is a powerful motivator. It's a powerful deterrent, too.

"The asshole blackmailed me into coming." Danny says, drawing his knees up to his chest. He looks disinterested. Annoyed, actually. Like what he is saying isn't sending alarm bells through Jason's mind. Like what he's saying doesn't concern him. "It's really dumb, actually."

He sighs, long and tired. There is grief etched into every line and pore in his face. "I could have handled it without even needing to come to the gala, I've done it before." He mutters when his eyes open. His fingers brush against the petals of the bouquet.

(And that only sends more alarm bells ringing in Jason's mind. Red lights blaring. Distress fills the cavity of his lungs. What has he missed?)

"I only agreed because I missed you," Danny says, "and Bruce. He invited me to come over sometime soon, to catch up. I agreed and I'm not sure why I did."

Jason didn't know that.

Danny continues talking. Jason listens in dutifully. He feels like a stranger imposing on his own grave. It's ridiculous. It makes sense. He feels like he should slink away and let Danny talk to his grave in peace. He cannot bring himself to move.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that he's sitting in front of him, like it's the good old days and they're back in Jason's room in the manor. Staying up late and trading stories back and forth. Sneaking out to the balcony and climbing onto rooftops they’re not supposed to go on.

Jazz is getting her psychology degree. Him and Sam had a big fight a few years ago, but they’re better now. Tucker wants to start his own tech business.

And on and on Danny goes, rambling about every little thing he can think of in the last five years since they last talked. He jumps back and forth between topics, when he remembers something he cuts to it. And then jumps back off to the next thought passing through his mind.

"I don't know what I want to do." Danny says, finally, after he exhausts every other topic to talk about. "I wanted to be an astronaut, but now I'm not so sure." His knees draw up to his chin, and he looks so sad. He looks nineteen. Small despite his size.

Were they really just nineteen, verging on twenty? Jason feels older among his years. Fourteen feels so far away.

Danny breathes in slowly, it's a sound that trembles. From where he stands, Jason sees Danny's eyes film over with tears. He makes a choked out sound that sounds like a terrible mix of a laugh and a sob.

"Where did you go?" He whispers. He tries to smile, and it is this pained, awful thing that drops within a second. Fingers clutch at his legs, diggings wrinkles into the fabric. "I know you're still here. Where did you go?"

There is no answer. Guilt is an animal with claws, and it burrows into Jason's heart to make itself home between the tendons. Tears slide from Danny's eyes down his cheeks. He still cries for him, five years later. Five years after. Jason feels worse.

"I haven't stopped looking for you." Danny continues, his voice cracks, and the words run over Jason's ears like water sliding off a duck's back. He doesn't hear it at first -- no, he doesn't understand it at first. And then when he does, he plunges his hands into the waters of his mind to drudge it back up.

You're looking for me? Do you know I'm alive?

It's another question to Jason's never-ending list.

"You might as well tell me where you are now." He smiles again; tries to. It wobbles, lips pulling back to show teeth as more tears spill over and carve red marks down Danny's face. "Or I'll find Cujo and sick him on you. He's gettin' real good at tracking things you know."

Jason doesn't know who Cujo is. But it sounds like a dog. He knows Danny's always wanted one, but their apartments would never allow it. It's not like his parents could afford one either.

There is a silence that hangs over them, with only the sound of the city around them. Danny seems to tremble more and more as each second passes, until finally a bubble pops. His smile drops, and so do his knees that were pressed into his chest.

He doesn't say a thing, not with words anyways. He hunches over and hugs himself with nails that dig into his elbows, failing to stifle a years' old grief. Jason wants to flee, lest he breaks his word to himself and steps out to console and dry Danny's falling tears. It feels like a betrayal unto himself to only stand there and watch him drown in his grief.

Guilt is a thing with claws, and Jason leaves the cemetery with hatred eating his tongue. Danny deserves the privacy that a ghost cannot give him. Jason may no longer be a ghost, but he is still the next best thing. either way I'm left holding onto the shovel and rope digging in the dirt finding bones, finding ghosts

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #dead on main #really thought long and hard about whether or not danny should kill the joker in this update #but that feels too soon #i feel like a few more things would need to be established before the Joker's inevitable end #so this is not half as long as the first part but this also only addresses the immediate aftermath of Red Hood's meeting with Danny #rather than spanning over multiple years building up Jason and Danny's relationship and jason's death and danny's return to gotham #word count: 3k #i'm a little disappointed i wanted to get to 9k like before but i think Jason's pov deserves a little more attention on its own #im still unsure of whether or not i should have added more or not

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eir-trixa · 2 years

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Anya: Ten years ago, I married my best friend…

Anya: Damian was pissed but Becky and I were drunk and thought it was hilarious

#spy x family #its a time skip obviously LMAO #damianya #anya forger #becky blackbell #damian desmond #incorrect quotes #sxf #ive been told i have to update the tags?#1k #2k #3k

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months

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Platonic Stobin Mind-Reading AU Part 1

Steve doesn’t notice anything is wrong at first beyond the obvious. His ears are ringing, his eye’s so swollen it feels like it’s going to pop from its socket, and his lungs don’t seem to expand fully before the pain in his ribs makes them shrivel back into themselves.

The injection site pulses, like the viscous blue liquid is still squirming its way into his brain, writhing around its synapses to force his tongue to wrap around words that only hold the truth. It doesn’t make sense. But neither do demogorgons or demodogs or the way thoughts have been leaking out of his ears since Hargrove bashed his skull in with a kitchen plate.

He doesn’t feel truthful. If he was truthful, he’d be telling Robin about the blood slowly pooling into his sock, or how he’s pretty sure she’s the best thing that’s happened to him since Dustin Henderson showed up uninvited at his house and derailed his life. Instead, he listens to Robin come up with more and more outlandish ways that this drug will kill them. It’ll erode their brains until there’s nothing left. Their organs will explode. They’ll have to keep talking until they slowly dehydrate and die. Steve hums along, thoughts trailing along too slow to keep up with her.

The mystery drug isn’t helping. He’s got that same giddy feeling he remembers from Friday night blunt rotations in crowded backyards, surrounded by his usual brigade of assholes. The likelihood of overdose or dismemberment ia much higher than they usually are when he feels the way, but hey, the company is better.

The overhead lights are trailing along in his vision, his cheekbone is throbbing with every invigorating heartbeat, and Robin’s head is shaking with laughter where it’s resting firmly against his own.

Then they’re being interrogated and even as Steve talks, a little voice in the back of his head is screaming at him to shut up. He doesn’t, can’t think past the drugs and his exploding eye, and the way he’s pretty sure if Robin moves her head away from his own he’ll explode.

Then noises and screaming and Dustin fucking Henderson.

They’re running.

They’re in the back of a cart.

They’re in an elevator.

Steve experiences each in little snapshots of coherency between laughing with Robin, and holding Robin’s hand, and–he can’t seem to think past Robin. It’s like Nancy all over again but more. Concentrated. The way he can only seem to think right now when it’s in tandem with her.

Then movies and popcorn.

Then water and a lightshow.

Then the bathroom. His thoughts are coming faster now, almost completely formed before they flit out his ears. And Robin is there. He still can’t think past her, and this is what love is like, isn’t it? The way he feels right when he’s sitting next to her.

But even as he’s confessing he can feel a little worm squirming through his stomach, uneasy with his words as they settle between them. And as Robin drops her secret between them like a gauntlet, Steve feels the squirming feeling ramp up into gut-churning fear. He doesn’t know why he’s afraid, or how he can almost feel himself glaring at the back of his own head in Mrs. Click’s class sophomore year, or the way he can perfectly remember how Tammy Thompson’s hair curled in the diluted sunlight of the classroom when before this moment he didn’t even remember her name.

It doesn’t matter, when He’s got Robin across from him, curling in on herself more with every second he doesn’t react.

The feeling ebbs into something softer as they make fun of a singing voice he can only barely remember. Something slides into place in the moment, like the weight of her skull on the back of his head while they’re tied back to back. Like the wisps of her hair tickling the side of his face. Like legs pressed together in a bathroom stall.

Then, Dustin fucking Henderson, and everything goes a little too fast after that. They survive by the barest threads of their little sailor suits. Billy dies. Hopper dies.

Steve goes home.

Part 2

#platonic stobin mind-reading au #stobin #stobin fic #steve harrington #robin buckley #my fic #I am simply vibing on this blog #This one only has 3k written so far just as a warning so who knows how often it'll get updated past that

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foli-vora · 9 months

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masterlist.

reader & prompt(s) below each title. warnings are noted on each fic.

FRANKIE MORALES:

⋆ Caught Out 18+ f!reader. spice/friends to lovers. “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, I was just..” “Want some help?”

⋆ Cold to the Touch 18+ f!reader. smut & angst. “It hurts...” “What?” “Loving someone who doesn’t love you...” "Why are you so cold?" "I do not have an answer for you." "Don't call me that." “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest.” “Can I kiss you?”

⋆ Attention Seeker gn!reader. fluff. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

MARCUS PIKE:

⋆ For Him gn!reader. fluff. “You wrote me a song?”

⋆ Rough Lines 18+ f!reader. YSE/RTY universe. angst & smut. “Is that a drawing of me?”

DIN DJARIN:

⋆ Say You'll Stay 18+ f!reader. angst/smut.

⋆ Before You Go f!reader. angst. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

⋆ Uncertain Intimacy 18+ f!reader. fluff & spice. “Can I kiss you?”

JACK DANIELS:

⋆ Stepping Stones 18+ f!reader. smut/angst/fluff.

⋆ Errands 18+ f!reader. Smut/fluff. "Can we go home yet?"

DAVE YORK:

⋆ Your Taste I Crave 18+ f!reader. smut. “You know where to find me.”

PERO TOVAR:

⋆ Greedy f!reader. fluffy/spicy. "I have no idea what you're talking about." “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

⋆ Don't Hide From Me 18+ f!reader. soft smut. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

JAVIER PENA:

⋆ Stuck of You 18+ f!reader. smut. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” “I'm going to fuck you until you forget that assholes name.”

⋆ Before My Eyes 18+ f!reader. spicy/smut. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” “You’re so fucking cute.”

⋆ Gaze Into Me

f!reader. fluff & smut. “I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you.”

⋆ Rule Breaker 18+ f!reader. smut. “Just once.”

EZRA:

⋆ Close Calls f!reader. Angst. “This isn’t adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you."

STEVEN GRANT:

⋆ Tear Into My Heart f!reader. angst. “I fucking hate you” “Let me do this, please.” “You’re my everything.”

⋆ Sunny Days: gn!reader. fluff. “I love seeing you smile.”

RICK FLAG:

⋆ Hear Me f!reader. angst. “The first time you smiled it felt like the universe aligned.”

FRANK CASTLE:

⋆ Close Up 18+ f!reader. smut. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

#foli's 3k #might as well share it now #and continue to update as i go #so the fics don’t get lost y’know #frankie morales x reader #marcus pike x reader #din djarin x reader #jack daniels x reader #dave york x reader #pero tovar x reader #javier pena x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #steven grant x reader #rick flag x reader #frank castle x reader

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chromatasia · 2 months

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AFTER LIKE. TWO WEEKS. THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THREE CLOVERS IS FINISHED. FALLS TO THE FLOOR

#3K WORDS... HOW DID I DO THIS #no promises on when it will update but. it will #clover patch au #undertale yellow #chroma writes #🌙

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malimaywrite · 3 months

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was beating myself up just a little for not writing today and "going slow" but realized that i wrote 10k in like 9 days so like can my brain chill lmao?? even if i'd only written like 1k all week pls chill???

anyways, anyways, 70k words reached yesterday (!) and this thing is gonna go over 99k which is dkhgbjhdfjhf. prob to 102k to 105k i refuse to go higher omg. luckily, i have to combine my current chapter 2 & 3 when i'm done (my second/actual inciting incident is currently in chapter 4 and i want it to be at the end of chapter 3 for querying reasons) so that should shave off 2k-ish and i have to rewrite my chapter 5 so maaaaaybe that'll shave off about 500 words-ish. from there, it shouldn't be too hard to shave down to get it under 99k for querying (and hopefully beta notes don't make me feel like i need to add a lot??? but we shall see)

hope things with your WIPs are going well <3

#odg&s #writing update #writeblr #i used to fast draft years ago like 6-8 weeks for a finished draft #and i think that's why this feels “too slow” to my brain #and there's a lot less caregiving to do for me now (for lovely reasons!)#so it's like what's stopping you from 2k to 3k+ days now??#which is silly #progress is progress

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conkers-thecosy · 6 months

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The thing is, I'm very lucky that I always get such lovely comments on my fics, but the last 48 hours? I could cry, honestly. I'm so lucky that anyone reads my nonsense, let alone enjoys it so much. I want to curl up into a little ball of happiness and squeal!

#sorry if this is too emotional #I'm still poorly atm so I guess I'm feeling a bit fragile lol #I will say these lovely comments from folks made me write almost 3k words since yesterday sooooo... well done for spurring me on!#conkers corner #backs to the wall #bttw #my ego dies #stealing moments moments away #writing update #...sort of?

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