#these things are hard to write

[soy-sauce-and-mothra]

Hey! Are there blacksmiths in your story? I'm a hobbyist blacksmith and I'm here to help!

Blacksmithing is one of those things that a lot of people get wrong because they don't realize it stuck around past the advent of the assembly line. Here's a list of some common misconceptions I see and what to do instead!

Not all blacksmiths are gigantic terrifying muscly guys with beards and deep voices. I am 5'8, skinny as a twig, have the muscle mass of wet bread, and exist on Tumblr. Anybody who is strong enough to pick up a hammer and understands fire safety can be a blacksmith.

You can make more than just swords with blacksmithing. Though swords are undeniably practical, they're not the only things that can be made. I've made candle holders, wall hooks, kebab skewers, fire pokers, and more. Look up things other people have made, it's really amazing what can be done.

"Red-hot" is actually not that hot by blacksmith terms. when heated up, the metal goes from black, to red, to orange, to yellow, to white. (for temperature reference, I got a second degree burn from picking up a piece of metal on black heat) The ideal color to work with the metal is yellow. White is not ideal at all, because the metal starts sparking and gets all weird and lumpy when it cools. (At no point in this process does the metal get even close to melting. It gets soft enough to work with, but I have never once seen metal become a liquid.)

Blacksmithing takes fucking forever. Not even taking into account starting the forge, selecting and preparing metal, etc. etc. it takes me around an hour to make one (1) fancy skewer. The metals blacksmiths work with heat up and cool down incredibly fast. When the forge is going good, it only takes like 20 seconds to get your metal hot enough to work with, but it takes about the same time for it to cool down, sometimes even less.

As long as you are careful, it is actually stupidly easy to not get hurt while blacksmithing. When I picked up this hobby I was like "okay, cool! I'm gonna make stuff, and I'm gonna end up in the hospital at some point!" Thus far, the latter has yet to occur. I've been doing this for nearly a year. I have earned myself a new scar from the aforementioned second degree burn, and one singe mark on my jeans. I don't even wear gloves half the time. Literally just eye protection, common sense, and fast reflexes and you'll probably be fine. (Accidents still happen of course, but I have found adequate safety weirdly easy to achieve with this hobby)

A forge is not a fire. The forge is the thing blacksmiths put their metal in to heat it up. It starts as a small fire, usually with newspaper or something else that's relatively small and burns easily, which we then put in the forge itself, which is sort of a fireplace-esque thing (there's a lot of different types of forge, look into it and try to figure out what sort of forge would make the most sense for the context you're writing about) and we cover it with coal, which then catches fire and heats up. The forge gets really hot, and sometimes really bright. Sometimes when I stare at the forge for too long it's like staring into the sun. The forge is also not a waterfall of lava, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.

Welding and blacksmithing are not the same thing. They often go hand-in-hand, but you cannot connected two pieces of metal with traditional blacksmithing alone. There is something called forge welding, where you heat your metal, sprinkle borax (or the in-universe equivalent) on it to prevent the metal from oxidizing/being non-weldable, and hammer the pieces together very quickly. Forge welding also sends sparks flying everywhere, and if you're working in a small space with other blacksmiths, you usually want to announce that you're welding before you do, so that everyone in a five-foot radius can get out of that five-foot radius. You also cannot just stuck some random pebbles into the forge and get a decent piece of metal that you can actually make something with, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.

Anvils are really fucking heavy. Nothing else to add here.

Making jewelry is not a blacksmithing thing unless you want jewelry made of steel. And it will be very ugly if you try. Blacksmithing wasn't invented to make small things.

If there's anything here I didn't mention, just ask and I'll do my best to answer.

#yes some of this was directed at steven universe #the only thing su got right was bismuth crying when her anvil broke #cus those things are goddamn expensive and hard to transport #blacksmith #blacksmithing #writing #writing prompts #writing advice #writeblr #writer #writer problems #writerblr #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writers

[erraticprocrastinator]

A reminder to all my lovely fellow writers: progress is progress, even when it isn't. Writing four thousand words in a session is progress. Writing a hundred words in a session is progress. Removing an entire scene because it doesn't flow well is progress. Rethinking your plan for the plot in order to get unstuck is progress. Development looks different for every writer and every story.

#I know it's hard when you don't feel like you're being conventionally “productive” #but every little thing puts you one step closer to finishing your WIP #even when you're actually taking something away #or not touching the actual story at all #writeblr #writing community #writers #writing #writers of tumblr #writing mood #writing advice #friendly reminder #reminder #writers on tumblr #writers community

[lazylittledragon]

requested closeups of the steddie tinder profiles

#steddie #stranger things #mombin #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve knows wtf he’s doing in those pictures #i was going to write the bios but it’s really Really hard to do that and keep it in character

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school. #like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it. #was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes. #but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create'' #when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent. #speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice. #''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession. #''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt? #u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky'' #we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

[citrenecult]

Drew the Lamb, Narinder, and the Follower Bishops.

Some close ups.

#cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl leshy #cotl heket #cotl kallamar #cotl shamura #cotl referenced sheet #my stuff #my art #was gonna do more head canon writing but it is very hard to type with fake nails on #oh the things I sacrifice for prom #they do look very nice though #so it might be worth it #it was at least a very fun mother daughter bonding experience :D

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

#writing #writers #writeblr #bookblr #book #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers of tumblr #writer #how to write #on writing #creative writing #writers block #write #writing tips #writers and poets #writblr #female writers #queer writers #writer things #writer stuff #writing is hard #writing advice #writing life #writer problems #writerscreed #writersnetwork #writerblr #writersociety #writerslife

[fandomsarefriends-notfood]

It's not an "abandoned" WIP, I didn't intentionally leave it in the forest to die and forget about it, it is a lost wip who wandered into the forest despite my pleas not to. I sit at the edge of the forest every day and hear it calling for help but there is nothing I can do. It is a haunting wip

#writers on tumblr #writblr #writing #writer things #writer problems #writeblr #fanfic writing #writing is hard #fanfiction struggles #help plz

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

Love a self-inflicted time loop. The main character isn’t trapped.  They can stop whenever they want.  But how can they when things aren’t perfect yet?  They can do better than this.  They need to try again.  They can get it right this time.  They just need to try again.  They can stop anytime they want.  Just one more time.  They can fix this. They just need to try again.  There are still things to fix.  They just need to try again.

#time travel #its about the tunnel vision #its about losing sight of what a win condition even looks like #its about writing off the entire timeline at the slightest inconvenience #its about increasing alienation #its about failing to notice that youre destroying yourself and in some cases making things worse #its about the atrophy of your own problem solving skills #its about treating your friends like unskippable cutscenes #its about gradually forgetting everything outside the loop #its about the fact that you arent even really trapped #its about making the same choice over and over again #its about falling hard into the sunk cost fallacy

[dreadfuldevotee]

Ruby: Yeaaaah, The Doctor just constantly trauma dumped on me starting from the day we met

Yasmin Khan, who has finally been convinced to come back to companion support group after finding out that The Doctor settled down with a family 48 hours after leaving her: I have to leave

#everything can be made about 13 and yaz if you try hard enough #doctor who #ruby sunday #yaz khan #yasmin khan #thasmin #sort of #char.txt #edit: let the record show that this isnt me actually hating on this #as like a writing thing- litterally just the way it was delivered v clunkly but i think its an interesting character choice #and i think its funny and insane that the doctor is pulling a complete 180 after being 13

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #batman #danny phantom #dead on main #soulmate au #my writing #fanfiction #red hood #danny fenton #jason todd #I'm so sorry for starting another one #this is just a one-shot right now #but the ideas have hit me so I may write more later #trying not to get distracted from my other fics #but also trying not to let focus on my other fics hinder writing in general #cause sometimes if I try too hard to focus on one thing I just get super stuck and upset and end up not being able to work on it at all #oh well #writing is writing #hope you enjoy #whatever this was

[pancakemolybdenum]

@josuyasuweek-2024 day 3: hospital / holidays / fake dating

emergency hair treatment

#josuyasu #josuyasu week #josuyasu week 2024 #was supposed to qualify for the fake dating thing too kiiinda but its hard to make clear visually and im bad at writing dialogue #but u can pretend they lied so okuyasu could visit or some bullshit like that. not that it works like that really but who cares #lovisas art #josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura

[ryukatters]

drunk in love — s. gojo ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

⟡ summary: you walk gojo back to his dorm after a night of drinking

⟡ pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

⟡ content/warnings: major fluff, underage alcohol consumption, boyfailure gojo, gojo calls reader pretty, mutual pining, drunken confessions, kiss kiss fall in love

⟡ wc: 1.4k

Satoru’s never been great at holding his alcohol.

The first time he got drunk was in secret inside of Suguru’s dorm room, late at night to ensure that there weren’t any teachers (read: Yaga) lingering in the hallway past curfew. His teacher did always seem to have some sort of divine intuition whenever it came to Satoru’s antics.

He had taken one shot and subsequently spat it all out onto the floor.

Satoru’s gotten better at handling his liquor, but he’s still very much a lightweight. That isn’t enough to deter him from refusing any shots Shoko or Suguru throw his way though, which probably isn't a great idea seeing how wasted your friends were. Which is surprising, because they tend to be a little better at handling their alcohol than Satoru. Chalk it up to wanting to celebrate for making it to the end of the school year.

It’s you who’s left to play damage control, considering how you were the only one still standing as the rest of your friends were all passed out on the cold hardwood floor of Shoko’s dorm, aside from one other person who’s currently gripping your leg, staring up at you, pleading like a kicked puppy.

Satoru was just as annoying if not more so when intoxicated. He couldn’t possibly sleep on the cold, hard, wooden floors…

…which is how you end up walking Gojo back to his dorm room. Though walking would be a very generous term, seeing how he’s using you as a human crutch, leaning most of his weight onto you as you struggle to keep the two of you balanced.

You try to usher Gojo onto his bed gently, but the boy seems to be too out of his wits to even do that properly. He unceremoniously flops onto his bed with a thud, banging his head against the wall in the process.

“Owww,” he clutches his head, pouting.

“That’s what you get,” you laugh.

“You’re mean.”

“Mean? I brought you all the way back here when I could have just let you sleep on the floor. That sounds pretty nice to me.”

His bottom lip juts out even further, much to your amusement. His sunglasses are hanging off the bridge of his nose, lopsided. You reach out to place them on his nightstand. His warm hand envelops your wrist before you can draw back, and brings your hand to cup his cheek. Maybe it’s alcohol and your decreased inhibition, or maybe its your own volition, but you can’t find it in you to pull away. You stroke your thumb against his pale, plush cheek, admiring the dimple that likes to make itself known when he smiles, just like he is right now.

Satoru runs warm. You’d think for someone with such an icy appearance and a reputation for being a cold-blooded sorcerer, his body temperature would follow suit. Maybe it’s because that frigidness is Gojo, the strongest, the honored one, and all the epithets that have burdened his shoulders from the minute he was born. But here, with you, he’s just Satoru— a boy with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, who can’t shoot whiskey, and loves his friends endlessly.

“My head hurts,” he whines.

“Oh, you poor baby,” you faux coo, rubbing your hand against the sore spot that will definitely have a lump tomorrow. Satoru eats it up though, melting into your touch. He’s even clingier when he’s drunk, you realize. Cute, you might even add. But the thought leaves just as soon as it comes. You’re a lot less sober than you thought you were.

Gojo’s voice pulls you out of your drunken daze. “Can you kiss it better f’me?”

“What?”

“Can you kiss…kiss me instead? So it doesn’t hurt anymore?” He slurs.

“Satoru, you’re too drunk.”

“‘m not!” Whatever defense he has for himself fails as a hiccup escapes past his lips. For a second, you think he might fall asleep like this, leaning into you. But then his eyes snap back open with a determined glint.

“Wan’…wanna kiss youuu,” he closes his eyes and puckers his lips, waiting for you to close the gap.

“Satoru…”

Where do you even start? You thought you’d be okay ignoring the budding feeling in your chest that consumes you most days you’re with the white-haired sorcerer. Deflection is the only way you know how to avoid acknowledging whatever this was. And it’s been working, sort of. “You can’t kiss someone you don’t like.”

He pouts even harder at that. “I like someone! I like you,” he says adamantly. “Like, like-like you.”

“Like-like? What are we, in kindergarten?”

You try your best to redirect the conversation, you don’t think you’re ready to face the implications of the fact that one of your best friends has feelings for you. Mutual feelings, you might add— the same feelings that have been eating away at you for months now, and the same feelings you’ve elected to ignore.

He pouts for the umpteenth time tonight before he lets out a huff, falling back onto the mattress. He props himself up on a pillow, peering at you curiously. It’s almost like you can see the gears turn in his head when he smiles deviously, both of his freakishly long arms reaching out to wrap around your waist and bring you flush against him.

You can feel the hot puffs of his breath, and you will yourself to look at him. Satoru’s eyes have always been so easy to get lost in.

He breathes out your name, sickeningly sweet. “I really do like you. You’re so pretty and strong and smart— it drives me a little crazy.” Your head is spinning, and the innate urge to run like you’ve been doing all this time sparks through you, but the grip that Satoru has on you is too strong. “Want you to like me back, I’ll do anything,” he says honestly.

Gojo’s good at the chase, and you’re something he’s in for the long run. You can run and run until there’s nowhere else to go, until your legs refuse to carry you a step further. He’ll always be there to catch you.

His hand traces delicate patterns along the side of your neck, still a bit too far gone to notice how your breath hitches. “I’ll buy you whatever you want, I’ll get you a big house and we can live together forever. I’ll take care of you, do whatever you want. I’ll be so good to you. For you.”

You’re stunned into silence. Your heart is threatening to leap out of your chest. It melts when you look at Satoru, who’s looking at you with all the hope in the world. The moonlight seeping through the blinds of his window casts the most intricate waves of light, illuminating Satoru’s features perfectly.

Satoru thinks he’s holding the world in his arms right now. He’s preparing himself for rejection, but it’s alright, he thinks— because he’s good at everything he tries and he’s willing to try and try again and again for you, just for the chance to be yours.

“Tell me that again in the morning when you’re sober,” you whisper, as if you’re afraid someone else could hear you within the confines of Satoru’s room. Like the weight of your words were a secret you couldn’t bear to let anyone else in on, except for one person— your one and only.

You take a leap of faith. You plant your hands on his chest to steady yourself, placing a chaste kiss on Satoru’s forehead— a symbol of assurance of your love for him— something that’s been a part of you from the very moment you met him.

Satoru’s heart squeezes in anticipation. He hugs you even tighter, laughing at the yelp of surprise you let out. He has never felt as more of a winner than he does right now. “I’ll tell you everything sober or drunk,” he promises, unable to contain his giddiness as you (finally!) let him pepper kisses all over your face.

“Everything, as long as it’s with you.”

a/n: gojo can not handle hard liquor so he’s drunk off of some (shots of) smirnoff ice 😎

#can’t drink hard liquor ✅ only drinks sweet things ✅ messy drunk ✅ #he’s just like me fr #kat's writing #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff

[typho-draws]

A I L U R A N T H R O P Y 1 0 1

#art #my art #oc #my ocs #my oc #werecat #werewolf #neon #werewolf oc #werecat oc #horror #wanted to do a fun little dossier thing!!! :-D #took waaay too long but YAAAY finally done #i want to make more dossier style stuff of different thangs too..... looking at my alien raptorid dudes #i need to draw up world building type pieces like mad #everything is stored in my brain like a vault i neeed to draw it all out #also if some of this doesnt make sense....... sorry!!! i think in pictures and writing stuff is hard

[egophiliac]

happy new year Ego!!! Just wanted to let you know that I absolutely adore your twst fanart and the tags are just an absolute pleasure to read! You are my greatest inspiration for my personal twst art and I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful masterpieces <333 if possible, may I ask what are some of your headcanons for the diasomnia family? If not for diasomnia then any other characters are fine as well!

thank you, and happy new year! 💚💜💚 that is amazing to hear; it's always a little bewildering but super flattering that other people like my silly little doodles so much!

I don't think I really have any really solid headcanons and also canon keeps validating me left and right (FLUFFY DOMESTIC DIAFAM IS REAL). mostly just kind of...impressions and general thoughts, if that makes sense! lately though I've been kind of obsessed with thinking about Lilia's hair, and specifically when/why he ended up cutting it. (l-look, we're bouncing around the timeline and I gotta make decisions about these things when I draw, it's relevant) (I mean I would probably be weirdly fixated on this anyway, but.)

I think I've settled on the idea that he kept it long until he went to NRC, partly because 1) I like drawing The Ponytail, and 2) I think he thought of NRC as a chance to reinvent himself a bit! he gets to go and be a wacky carefree teenager for a few years and have fun! (officially he's there to keep an eye on Son #1, but how much trouble could he get into, really.) so he gave himself a Cool Teen Haircut to go with his fresh new Cool Teen Persona!

also maybe he had some reflection on his hair's troubled past with three kids...

...and had to weigh his vanity versus the fact that he was going off to be around hundreds of kids on a daily basis, and. the choice suddenly seemed obvious.

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 part 6 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 part 6 spoilers #this is my blog and i'm going to write a million words about lilia and you can't stop me #but anyway i do genuinely get the impression that he's using Pretending to Be a Teenager as a chance to be even sillier than usual #he's a very silly man he's just being EXTRA silly #supported by his recent birthday card where he says he was specifically trying to cast himself as an adorable little brother-type #because he wanted the other students to give him free shit and save him seats and things like that #it worked for about a week before he turned out to be way too good at stuff and everyone just kind of ended up in awe of him instead #and he was like DANGIT. I'VE RUINED IT FOR MYSELF. #(then he and epel went on to talk about their hypothetical vtubersonas because the birthday cards are INSANE but anyway) #i'm bad at headcanons :( sorry! #unless it's dumb things like...what pokemon they would have or whatever #(malleus would have some kind of special fancy-colored dragapult) (but i digress) #i have a hard time putting things into words. just know that i love the grampa bat and his weird kids very much. #my brain is also still kind of fried from the last couple of weeks #i am however starting 2024 off the way i intend to continue it: in deep contemplation of anime hair #(sorry if these look weirdly aliased) (i realized about 3/4 of the way through i was using the wrong brush and i didn't want to restart :U)

[kasieli]

Hear me out: MC and Seb exploring the underwater caves together

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #fanart #IM JUST SAYIN #it could be…quite…romantic? #or more? #like listen no one in their right of mind is going to dive in FULL ON ROBES #so realistically speaking #things are coming off #my gal Elly was NOT prepared for this #homegirl is literally just trying to find some armour or something #wow why am I doing this to myself #when I need to WRITE #hell this could even be a scene in an upcoming chapter but NO IM TOO IMPATIENT #this was so hard to draw guys #like I was STRUGGLING #water? #wet skin? #WET CLOTHES ON WET SKIN? #ugh awful

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #physical therapist Steve #idk going through my notes on things I’ll never have time to actually write #but maybe someone else does #I’m literally ignoring work so hard right now #I’m just tired!!!! #im just a girl who doesn’t wanna work anymore!!!! #cw: injury #cw: mention of accident