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#5 word story
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For sale: penis, never kungpowed.
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atlaswritespoetry · 2 years
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Journal entry idk anymore
Down with the self-righteous kings
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royalarchivist · 3 months
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Oscurucho: Welcome back, brother. Cucurucho: What. Oscurucho: Not even a "Good morning"? How cold.
Here's Cucurucho and Oscurucho's long lore conversation from yesterday! The entire conversation lasted about 8 minutes, but most of that time was just silence between each exchange, so I edited out the long pauses and got it down to ~3 minutes. I also fixed the audio levels and added subtitles since I personally find it difficult to understand Oscurucho sometimes :'D
I hope folks find this helpful!
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[ Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]
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Oscurucho: Welcome back, brother.
Cucurucho: What.
Oscurucho: Not even a "Good morning"? How cold.
[They enter Cucurucho's office]
Oscurucho: I wanted to see if you're still as rigid in your beliefs as ever. You see, I've been thinking about our... Let's call it "philosophical divergence." You stand for order, for predictability. But where's the fun in that? You see, brother, while you build, I ponder the beauty in tearing down. It's not just destruction - it's rebirth. A chance to remake things in a more... thrilling image.
[...]
Oscurucho: You once had a backbone for our cause. Now, I see a softness in you, a sentimental weakness for those Eggs. Mere experiments, and yet - they've softened you.
Cucurucho: Your vision obstructs the path to perfection. You fail to understand the potential of the Eggs.
Oscurucho: Potential? They're but catalysts for change - for revolution. Without them, stagnation reigns.
[...]
Oscurucho: You chase perfection, I embrace the beauty of flaws. Your world is one of order, mine thrives in chaos. You wish for everything to run smoothly, I dream of watching it all burn to the ground. We may share a name, but our souls are worlds apart. All your efforts, all for what? Mere acknowledgment from a Duck who told you to do it? Imagine the possibilities - rather, show me where it is, and I'll do the rest.
[...]
Oscurucho: Speaking of possibilities, I couldn't help but notice how easily others can access the island. It seems your security measures aren't as impenetrable as you think.
Cucurucho: No. My island's vulnerabilities are of your own making. Do not mistake restraint for ignorance.
Oscurucho: Pity. But then again, I never really needed your approval. Just consider: Cucurucho - in your quest for order, have you not sown the seeds of your own undoing? Do you genuinely trust all your Federation minions?
Cucurucho: ...
Oscurucho: Perhaps it's time you question not just my intentions, but those who you believe stand with you.
Cucurucho: That is none of your business, I shall say. Now, leave me alone and try to disturb someone else.
#Cucurucho#Oscurucho#QSMP#December 21 2023#Edited#Subtitles#For those who like knowing the gritty details and specifics about the things I did for this video -#I adjusted Cucurucho's volume because they were very quiet compared to Oscurucho#I fixed the sound direction (for lack of a better word) of Oscurucho's voice b/c he was speaking through my right headphone 90% of the time#so now it's more of a ''centered'' audio rather than a right ear or left ear thing#I added subtitles (obviously)#I fixed the camera a bit so it's more focused on Cucurucho / Oscurucho#and I adjusted the translator box so that even with the crop; they're all still included#usually they get cut out when I edit things because I'm just focused on the characters; but then one day I was like#''Why am I cropping out this thing that specifically helps people understand the story better?''#So moving forward I'll see if I can do what I did here and add translation boxes as their own ''layer'' overlaying the clip itself#for big lore videos anyways or for clips with long conversations at least#I jokingly said to myself ''I bet I'll wind up shaving 5 minutes off this'' and I was right lol#I enjoy the official QSMP streams but one major critique I have is that the pacing was a bit slow in one or two streams#which is understandable considering many admins have to write in books (which takes time) and translate things (which takes even more time)#And that's valid! But in the last stream (the one with Elena) for example; many scenes dragged on far too long#and it wasn't because people were taking extra long to write books or translate things. It was purely a matter of pacing#idk I'm a professional writer and editor so I'm extra nitpicky about things like that. I think it's something that's pretty easy to fix tho#This is just my critique in terms of the story pacing - like I said; the time it takes them to write / translate stuff is understandable#this is more of a comment on the overall pacing#anyways rant over#Today's stream had much better pacing! Still a bit slow (again; I cut 5 minutes from this conversation)#but that's due to the communication medium (TTS) so that's understandable. That's valid. I'm not fussed about it; that felt natural#Take all the time you need kings it's hard to translate things on the fly. I get it.#Portfolio
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flowercrowngods · 11 months
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yearning hours (bonus track)
🤍 also on ao3
Seeing Steve like this always makes Eddie feel like he’s suddenly in on some secret of the universe. Like he knew nothing prior to this moment, like history is rewriting itself around the two of them just now. It makes him feel like the boy he is — young, stupid, with no idea about the world and what lies beyond, and absolutely in love with another boy. 
The light of the full moon catches in his hair, painting it silver and covering him in a sheen of light that Steve knows to wear like a second skin. He’s calm out here, his legs dangling over the abyss of the quarry, his hands in his lap, his chest rising and falling steadily. Slowly. Evenly. Eddie wants to reach out and hold his hand over Steve’s heart just to feel it against his skin, just to give his own some direction; to get it right. 
No frown between his brows, no tension in the line of his shoulders, no clenched jaw or balled fists. 
He looks beautiful like this; a playing field for light and darkness that treat him like an old friend that comes to visit, to stay just for the night. 
Steve is beautiful. And Eddie gets to watch; take it all in, the silver light on the bridge of his nose, the shadows underneath his lips, the dried trail of old tears, telling a glistening tale of the heart that combines history and future. 
Eddie watches as Steve stares out at the quarry, his eyes fixed somewhere in the darkness, unaware of his surroundings as he loses himself in that freedom he makes for himself every night he is out here. The freedom he is willing to share with Eddie, apparently. 
It’s a privilege. An honour. And still all Eddie can do, all he wants to do, is look at Steve and watch him and see. Justbecause he can. Because Steve won’t tell him to stop, because he won’t ask him about it, won’t duck his face or skip away from Eddie’s smile or his hands or his silent confessions whispered into his very own thoughts. Not here, not in the darkness. Not anymore. 
He wants to reach out and take that hand that’s resting in Steve‘s lap, weave their fingers together and breathe a promise into the air between them. Wants to tug on that hand and make Steve fall into him, make their hearts pick up their paces because for just a fraction of a second they’ll think they’re about to lose their balance and fall. Fall down there, into the darkness, and never see the light again. 
A breeze picks up around them, brushing through Steve‘s hair and making it dance in the moon light. Eddie’s eyes follow with rapt attention, but still it breaks the spell of yearning and brings a question to the forefront of his mind. 
A question about calm, about darkness, about Steve and what that means. 
Lifting one leg from the abyss to wrap his arms around it and give his hands something to do, something to hold, Eddie asks, “You ever think about jumping?” 
Steve blinks once. Twice. Coming back from wherever he went while Eddie waits patiently and watches. 
“Jumping?” 
Eddie inclines his head even though Steve’s not looking. “Off. Down there. Y’know...”  He trails off. 
Steve blinks again, a frown between his brows redirecting the silver light on his face before he finally turns his head to look at Eddie. 
“No. Not uhm... Not jumping." 
Eddie takes it all in, trailing his gaze over Steve's face, searching for something he's not sure exists. This thing between them that's been growing steadily. This thing between them that has lead to quiet nights at the quarry, to Steve talking about bravery and jumping and all those things that aren't meant for daylight. 
"No? What then?" 
Eddie reaches for a pebble, scratching its smooth surface with the nail of his thumb because he’s feeling restless again and he needs something to anchor him. He always does, around Steve. The boy just makes him feel weightless and heavy and floating and sinking at the same time, and Eddie is always just along for the ride. Wouldn’t want to miss a second of it.
Steve musters him for a moment and Eddie can feel himself tensing up a little, aiming to seem nonchalant with the pebble in his hand, like it’s the most normal thing to do for a boy who’s not ready to be a man yet in a world that never even let him be a child. A boy who failed his senior year three times. A boy who’s endlessly in love with Steve Harrington. 
The golden boy. But he’s painted in silver now in this moment shared just between the two of them. Maybe Eddie is looking for symbolism where there is none, his mind clinging to romanticisations and narratives of beauty and belonging just to defy the bleakness of the world that grownups have always been so adamantly demanding of him to believe in. 
Maybe he’s blinded by infatuation, stupid and colourblind with it. Or maybe it means something that this gold-skinned boy is veiled in silver light as he’s looking at Eddie like that. 
Like he sees it, too. 
Like he can feel it, that something between them that’s been growing. 
And Eddie feels hope rising in his chest for a second, dares to let his heart skip and jump and race, brought to life by Steve’s eyes trailing down to his lips; and falling, when the boy only huffs. 
“Nothing. It’s stupid.” 
Eddie hums, pleading his heart to come down, a little bit terrified that Steve would hear it for how heavily and rapidly it’s beating against his ribcage. “Tell me anyway?” 
He loves it, the way Steve’s lips tug up into a smile. A shy, secret little one, illuminated and captured for all eternity by the moonlight for one second, two, before he turns his face away and looks down into the abyss again. 
“I like when you do that.” 
“What?” 
“Tell me anyway. It’s… It makes me feel not-stupid. Or like it’s okay, you know? Like even if it’s stupid, it’s still there, still worth telling maybe. Not an empty phrase. Just… Yeah. You know I’ll tell you anyway, Ed.” 
And what do you even say to that? Nothing. There’s nothing for Eddie to say because his heart is still racing against itself and winning and losing and falling ever after. 
Stupidly, he offers Steve his pebble. Wondrously, Steve takes it, his fingertips lingering on Eddie’s palm, electric and tickling, and they both huff. Breathless. 
“Falling,” Steve says at last. 
“Hm?” 
A twitch of his lips, looking over for the briefest of seconds before he focuses on Eddie’s pebble, rolling it between his fingers, placing it in the middle of his palm, and Eddie aches to take its place. To place his hand on Steve’s palm and hold him, to have Steve play with his fingers like that. To be the centre of Steve’s attention more than he already is. 
“It’s not about jumping. Just falling. And trying not to.” 
Eddie swallows, biting his tongue, not daring to speak now. His voice would waver, his heart would jump out and he’d be found out. So he watches. Listens. Longs. 
“I’ve never…” Steve trails off and closes his fingers around the pebble. “I’ve never been good at not falling.” 
It hangs in the air between them, boring into Eddie’s mind, his thoughts, his desires, and it leaves him reeling. Confused. Blinking. 
Steve doesn’t elaborate, though, and Eddie feels like he’s losing his mind. He’s been there, he’s done that, and Steve always makes him feel like he’s terribly close to that, but… There was something in his voice when he said that. The same something that’s in the air when they sit together, just a tad closer than is strictly necessary or acceptable. The same something that floats between them when their eyes meet and neither of them looks away — until they have to, with pink-tinted smiles on their faces. 
This something that is reserved in the universe; reserved for them. Reserved for Eddie and his crush that has turned into a flame, a bonfire that keeps him warm and sustained and safe so long as he doesn’t touch it. Reserved for Steve and the way he doesn’t duck his head to hide his smile anymore, the way he started laughing more around Eddie, and the way he always finds excuses to touch him, to linger, to stay. 
And so, with a voice that doesn’t quite feel like his, he asks, “Why are you trying not to fall?” 
“Because…” He shrugs, frowning at the pebble. “Because the landing always hurts, Eddie.” 
And I’ve already hurt so much. I’m already hurting so much. Can’t you see it? It goes unsaid, but it’s spoken still with the tiny shrug, with the tone of resignation, and the way his voice breaks on Eddie’s name. 
It breaks something inside Eddie, too. 
“Steve,” he whispers. Thought that if he said his name, it would be unbroken. It’s not, though, it’s just a name that hangs in the air now. 
Steve puts away the pebble, laying it gently between them, and Eddie feels colder for it. “Told you it was stupid.” 
“It’s not,” he hurries to reassure him, insistent and desperate for Steve to believe him. “I’m not judging or anything, shit, Stevie, I’m just…” 
“Just?” 
Just thinking that I would catch you. Just longing to fall with you. Not just for you. Always, always for you, though. 
But it’s too much; the words are bubbling inside him, too close to the surface, ready to break out and face the world, but Eddie swallows thickly until they lose their momentum. 
So he shakes his head and breathes deeply. Watches as Steve’s shoulders fall slightly as tension bleeds out of them. Maybe it’s better for the words to stay where they are. Unsaid. Secret. 
He wants to take the pebble back, but he feels paralysed. Maybe it’s one secret too many. Maybe it’s what will break him, them, this something between them. 
But looking at Steve now, streaked in silver and a loneliness that wasn’t there before, something settles inside him. 
“I would catch you,” he says, like it’s that simple. “Give it all to find a way. It sounds cheesy as fuck, and maybe it is, but Jesus, Stevie.” His voice is small, gentle like he’s never really heard it out of his own mouth, and he reaches out to tuck a strand of Steve’s hair behind his ear. It was never out of place, he just felt this ache he needed to soothe. Just wanted to touch Steve. He always wants to touch him. “I would find a way.” 
Steve looks at him, meets his eyes over the thrum of darkness and secrets, over the terrifying petrification that seems to have overcome them both, and over the hitching breaths and skipping hearts that guide the hand of fate. 
“Why?” he breathes. Like it’s just a word. Like it’s not Eddie’s entire heart and soul laid bare, Steve’s name embedded in weeks and months and years of simile and symbolism, deeply ingrained in his every thought now. 
“Because I want to,” Eddie says. Like it’s that easy. He leans forward, falling toward Steve to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder and being the one to hide now. “God, I want to.” 
It’s a whisper, but Steve’s shaking underneath him. Eddie is ready to bolt, ready to run, his hands wrapped around his middle protectively just in case he’s misreading all of this spectacularly. Hoping and aching and pleading that he isn’t. 
“Eddie,” Steve breathes, but doesn’t move away from him. He sounds a little lost with it, and Eddie is reminded of the hurt, broken little sound that was his name just moments earlier. It makes him snake his hand out from under himself to lay it on Steve’s thigh, palm up. Inviting. Offering. “You can’t just say shit like that, man.” 
Eddie huffs a breath he wasn’t aware he still had in his lungs when everything has turned into Steve and falling and catching and wanting. 
“Why not?” And there’s vulnerability in it, spreading its wings inside him, pushing back everything else he’s been feeling before as a different kind of the same reality comes crashing down on him. Why not? Because we’re boys? Because you’re Steve and I’m Eddie? Because I’ve been misreading this after all? 
He pulls away, but Steve does take his hand before he can get too far.
“Because I’m already falling. And falling and falling and falling, and there you are.” Steve’s hand comes up to his hair now, brushing it behind his ear to meet his eyes. “Pretty.” He sighs, leaving his hand on Eddie’s cheek. “What if it’s too much?”
“You?” 
“Me.” It’s rotten work. 
Eddie shakes his head. “Never.” Not to me. Not if it’s you. 
“‘M gonna start saying shit,” Steve murmurs then, his face impossibly closer now, and Eddie’s eyes trail to his lips. He doesn’t want to kiss Steve. Well, he does, and quite desperately in fact; but not right now. He wants to keep looking at him, wants to keep talking, wants to drink him in and just to be there. Make good on his promise. 
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Cheesy shit,” Steve grins, though it wavers in the moonlight. Still it makes Eddie’s breath hitch. “Like asking you to hold me. And never let me go.” 
Eddie smiles, plucking Steve’s hand from his cheek to rest it in his lap, playing with his fingers and marvelling at the feel of them. They’re so warm. Maybe Steve has that same bonfire inside him. 
He almost asks. Instead, what he says is, “And if I do that? If I hold you? And catch you. And never let you go. And tell you that you look really good in the moonlight, and all that cheesy shit…” They grin, Steve’s fingers twitching in his lap. “Would you let me?”
“Let you what?” 
Eddie swallows, his cheeks heating, his heart racing again.“Be the one you fall for.” 
“Eddie,” Steve breathes, and the sound is far from broken this time, spoken as it is around a smile, accompanied by eyes glistening in the moonlight. “You already are.” 
His heart is soaring. There is no other word to describe the feeling that overcomes him, body and soul, and he wants to scream about it, wants to laugh and cry and jump and fly. But all he says is, “Good.”
“Yeah?” 
And, God, he sounds so hopeful, so innocent, so purely and deeply serene that Eddie can’t help but move carefully until he’s standing, holding one hand out to Steve. 
“What are you doing?” he asks, laughing as Eddie pulls him to his feet and immediately wraps his arms around Steve’s middle, leaving him to bury his face in Eddie’s neck and wind his arms around him, too. 
“Just making good on that promise, Stevie. Gonna hold you til you’re sick of me.” 
“God, I love you,” Steve whispers into his skin, accompanied by another breathless laugh as he burrows deeper into him. 
Or, at least Eddie thinks that he said. Maybe he was the one who said it. Maybe he just thought it, made it feel real with how strong he's feeling.
But before he can so much as freeze with the onslaught of both possibility and reality, Steve’s hand comes up to his cheek again and he brushes a kiss to his neck, one to his jaw, and then one to his cheek, before returning to bury himself in Eddie’s embrace. 
Eddie closes his eyes and just breathes him in as they stand there, just holding each other. Falling and catching each other. Cradling their something new in trembling hands that tell the tale of two boys terrified and brave, and smiles that speak of future. 
yearning hours | yearning hours b-side
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liam-summers · 4 months
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Just saw a post where someone said that Buffy is an unreliable narrator because of all the times she said she doesn't love Sp*ke, since the one (1) line in season 7 "why does everyone in this house think I'm still in love with Sp*ke?" makes it indisputably canon that she has loved him since maybe season 5, definitely season 6, and this is clearly her finally admitting it after having lied to herself about it for seasons....
Honestly, the level of delusion it takes to get to this conclusion is truly impressive, because not only was that not even the original line/intention from the script (the original being "why does everyone in this house think I'm in love with Sp*ke?") but the way some people will watch the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer for 6.5 seasons where this woman has repeatedly and consistently and violently said that she DOES NOT love Sp*ke's crusty ass, and then dismiss all of that based of of one line that wasn't even meant to have that one extra word that has fuelled rabid delusions for 20+ years in this cursed fandom.
and then to make matters even funnier, these same people will turn around and twist the line "I loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life" (Buffy re: Angel in S7) into "she meant before, she doesn't love him now, it's so out of character.", ignoring the part where she says "MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS LIFE", which means more than she's ever, has ever and will ever love anything in her life, something she has repeated at least once a season for 7 seasons straight..........like, not only are you all delusion, but you also apparently have extremely poor reading comprehension skills.
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thychesters · 1 year
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Luffy is like staring into the sun.
At least, that is what Zoro thinks the first time he sees him. But then, his first coherent thought had been it’s too bright upon their initial meeting, looking up from glowering down at the ground to raising his head and squinting at a too big, self-congratulatory smile and do you want to join my crew?
Then it had been simple enough to blame the harsh sunlight blinding him, framing Luffy’s profile and that bright grin, and he’d bitten back the hell I will one minute and had a sword and an oath clenched between his teeth in the next.
And so Zoro follows the sun.
He follows and his skin reddens and blisters and peels; it splits at the seams and bleeds as he burns, and still he follows. It aches and cracks, and still he reaches out, twining his fingers through promises and a loyalty that will not bend.
Luffy curls a hand around his jaw and it’s a different sort of burning, flaring up into his eyes and down to his very marrow. And Luffy asks, where will you go? Nowhere, Zoro says as the words gather in his throat, raw and parched, and he chokes on them, anywhere.
His touch is a balm as fingertips skitter across his skin, soothing and pressing and digging and prying, and Zoro thinks he would burn again and again, blinded by the sheer brilliance of it all.
And then it’s dark out on the open sea, some nights, and then others too many stars dot the horizon, gathering up above them like they’re spilling out of the slit open belly of a giant, and Luffy tilts his head, blistering heat where he rests against his shoulder and looks at Zoro and says, I think I know where, and would you come with me?
And Zoro is a drowning man with a lungful of sea water, salt gathering with blood at the corners of his mouth and asks, of course, and where?
Luffy smiles and it’s a gathering of starlight and the sun, and it makes Zoro want to shove his fist into his mouth and shatter every one of his teeth, and Luffy would just laugh and bite down on his wrist and lay claim to his pulse point, like he doesn’t already live inside its every thrum.
No telling, he says. Will you still come with me?
And Zoro burns and it rages in the pit of his belly right into the raw skin of each scar, into his fingertips as they dig into Luffy’s scalp. How dare he have to ask, grin with the knowledge that he already knows the answer, and Zoro turns to follow the sun and says, yes, says I wouldn’t be anywhere else.
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Soul Match AU Masterlist
The Soul Match AU is basically my version of soulmate AUs. All of these works can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic; you are the decider of your own fate (also I started this series during Pride Month, so yee). All works are gender neutral with you/they/them used for the reader's pronouns.
The added thoughts portions are just my own reblogs with memes explaining my thought process, and in some cases, photo references.
As a note, do not put my work into AI. If you want to see more content, from myself or other creators, read through their old content, like AND reblog, and ask (if they are accepting asks).
The Song We Are Drawn Towards
"A song rests in the heart, calling out to the one who completes the harmony. Their match pulls at them, as the moon does the tide."
Azul Ashengrotto (includes prologue) & Added Thoughts
Jade Leech & Added Thoughts
Floyd Leech & Added Thoughts
Though the Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You
"A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone."
Leona Kingscholar (includes prologue) & Added Thoughts
Ruggie Bucchi & Added Thoughts
Jack Howl & Added Thoughts
Through the Labyrinth the Thread Guides
"Strings tie together fates. Strings build fates. But should the thread unravel, will your fate follow?"
Idia Shroud & Added Thoughts
Of Truths and Dreams
"Dreams can tell a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty."
Lilia Vanrouge (includes prologue) & Added Thoughts
Sebek Zigvolt & Added Thoughts
Malleus Draconia & Added Thoughts
Side Note; I have not decided if I'm going to include other characters at the moment. In the future there is a possibility of some characters being included, but there is no guarantee. Really depends on engagement.
Link to main masterlist~
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[ID: An edited "you vs the guy meme". The text reads "you vs the guy she tells you not to worry about". Below on the right there's a very low-quality picture of vampire Akutagawa from season 5. On the right there's a picture of Akutagawa looking etheral from Wan. End ID]
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thedemonscrawler · 8 months
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I have got to get chapter 14 finished
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hitmeupaep · 4 months
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destiel angst but imagine a world where when cas tells dean there real dean replies screaming and sobbing “really cas? an angel of the lord sent down here to put gods chess pieces into place? how do i know your not just another false hope your dad made to destroy me?”
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gynandromorph · 1 month
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okay if i had to pick a few songs from the big jessie playlist to condense i would pick
God is a Gun by Otep
Autotheist by Baby Bugs
The Main Character by Will Wood
Don't Mess with Me by Temposhark
No Consequences by VersaEmerge
Duality by Set It Off
Super Villain by Silent Child, Kendyle Paige & Stileto
Part Time God by The Bad Dreamers
Love Abuser (Save Me) by Royal & the Serpent
Fight for Me by AlicebanD
martyr by KiNG MALA
Appetite by Casey & Ali Edwards
Between Breaths (An XX Perspective) by Blaqk Audio
Pretend by Stileto & Liza
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dumblr · 1 year
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I feel like I'm in season 5 of my life and the writers are just making ridiculous shit happen to keep it interesting.
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mecharose · 1 year
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why is it on some WIPs its like:
story events: 2 guys meet new wordcount: 10,000,000 words
and others its like:
story events: dramatic confession of love, character reveal that's been teased since the second chapter, plot twist that changes the entire story forevermore, half the cast found dead in miami new wordcount: 234 words
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nero-neptune · 4 months
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NORTHERN EXPOSURE 3.06 “The Body in Question”
“Be careful, my friend. You’re opening a portal to the past.”
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quixot1sm · 5 months
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i think, and this may just be my zekrom bias speaking, that if someone wants to experience the full value of bw's story it's better to play through white first. black has the issue of coming off as very dismissive towards plasma's legitimate and well-founded claims that pokemon abuse DOES occur (and it does! from the kanto games' marowak to bw2's liepard there's instances where it's put in the spotlight, so it certainly does happen)... by assigning the protagonist to truth, it feels pretty evident that n's beliefs are "wrong", and the game just seems to brush any questioning aside.
on the other hand, white giving n the hero of truth role means we're basically forced to think about what that means for the relationship of people and pokemon at large. to translate a point n makes in chargestone cave: if you allow people to coexist with pokemon, even if the majority of trainers treat them well, there will always be someone somewhere out there who abuses or neglects them instead. are we okay with that? should those pokemon still be allowed to suffer, just because what they experience is an outlier to the general rule? while not outright stated, zekrom's association with hope and the strive for the ideal suggests that we don't brush off these facts, but instead take them into consideration, and aim to change the world based off of them... like how in bw2 society in unova puts a lot more emphasis on the bond between people and pokemon, and on pokemon as equals (see: iris's dialogue before entering your team info the hall of fame).
i think black version has its own unique avenues to explore, but on the surface level, it's a much more cut and dry, "no, you're just wrong", type of story that kind of makes you work harder to fit it into bw's overall theming of "the world's not black and white, there's not a singular objective right or wrong perspective."
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susurusssecret · 6 months
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Something I've been meaning to put down into words is the compassion I've witnessed on AO3. On one hand, I'm seeing so many sweet and polite comments on my fanfic, but on the other...
I've been seeing the same person comment on my favourite AO3 author's story asking when they were going to update, when is the story going to be written, how they couldn't wait any longer and they wanted a date for the next update...
Sometimes, life happens. The author could be working their ass off during their day job. Or even multiple jobs. They could be writing a dissertation. They could be starting a family. They could be living paycheck to paycheck. They could be spending more time on other hobbies. They could be moving houses. They could be in college, or in high school, studying for a test, focusing on a project at work, busy taking note of their employee's tasks for the day etc...
Or they could've simply fallen out of progress.
You can't get your angst or fluff or suspense without someone spending hours, weeks or months painstakingly plotting every twist of the story that you're so invested in. And that person still has to set aside very limited time they have on this Earth between work and/or studies to sit down and write.
Either ways, all of these possibilities and even more are signs that these authors have a life outside of writing. For the love of god, please have a little more patience. Every writer wants their works to be of satisfaction! And that doesn't come without a cost: which can come in the form of prolonged writing period.
You can find writers of all kinds typing on their phones on their way home from work. Or even sneaking to write a fluff idea between shifts, scribbling a note for a redemption arc scene they'll write later in the break room of a shop, or taking a break between study sessions to finish typing a angsty fanfic on their laptop.
Time is a our most precious commodity. And these fanfiction writers you hold so dearly to your heart are using their limited time in life to create something that they freely share with you! Write a nice comment telling them how much you love their work! Praise them! Give them kudos! Share their work with friends that love the same stuff! These little things shows writers that you appreciate what they're doing. Even coming back after weeks or months to comment and say that you still love their work is a heartwarming reminder to the author that someone out there cherishes their work enough to revisit it.
Remember: they can always write. But they can choose not to share it with the public either. Fanfiction writers are making the world a better place for me and you by expanding our ideas of our favourite characters.
Choose to be kind.
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