#this hurt me to write btw.

[autistic-beshelar]

rue is, i think, in love with the idea of love.

they set a wager. the lords of the wing will find true love in this romantic, ephemeral bloom, if they only seek it. they can win it, as though it’s a game.

they long to abolish the courts. their own court has never held any love for them - why would any other court be different? a court stifles, a court smothers, a court suffocates love. the courts must be abolished, so that love can bloom. true love, love that is unfettered by politics, or station, or duty.

they are the architect of the bloom. the hunt, the heart. the dance. the potions. they will pour love into a cup and the guests will drink their fill. fae from across the realms will fall in beautiful, perfect love at rue’s hand. 

they have become the arbiter of love. when an engagement between a cruel prince and a wild goblin is set, what else can they do but judge it unfit? it was not love, it was not true. 

they share a moment in a forest with a venerated captain. he is tall, as they are. he is clawed, as they are. he is a beast, as they are, and so beautiful for it. they fall fast, and hard, and heavy. and perhaps it is only the nature of queerness, of a life lived behind a mask, yearning for the faintest spark, that causes them to love so fast. 

or perhaps they did not truly fall in love with hob at all. for they did not see him. 

they fell in love with a reflection of themself.

except, of course, that hob is not a reflection of rue. hob is his own person, and like any real person, he cannot live up to an idea. and while rue is on a wonderful journey of revelation and self acceptance, it is baffling to them that someone else’s love does not always mirror their own.

rue, in an act of bravery and vulnerability and hope, removed their mask. and they long so very much to remove hob’s - but he has never worn a mask. he has always been exactly as he is - a soldier, devoted and dutiful. an outsider, used and abused by his court. rue’s true form was hidden by their court, while hob’s otherness has always been mercilessly exposed.

rue loves hob for the idea of who he could be, if he could simply unmask as they did. but hob needs, just as rue does, to be loved for who he is.

#this really went from 'rue doesn't truly understand love and is fucked up about it' #to 'rue thinks hob's story is one of queerness but it is in fact of neurodivergence' #and while rue could pass #hob never could #this hurt me to write btw. #a court of fey and flowers #delloso de la rue #captain kp hob #i see a LOT of talk about rue's story being a queer one #which it very very deliberately and wonderfully is #but i see the same being said of hob #and i'm not saying it's wrong to see hob's story as a queer one too #but to me hob's entire narrative is so clearly an autistic one #the abuse and manipulation and straight up gaslighting that he has received from his superiors #reads so clearly as authority figures taking advantage of a neurodivergent person #his whole... inability to accept that anyone could love him for who he is #the way he is othered not so much for how he looks #but for his BEHAVIOUR #for things that are blatant autistic traits #that's... that's an autistic narrative for sure. #not to say that hob isn't also queer #and of course there is so so much overlap between queer stories and autistic stories #but i think that #rue is only seeing their experience as a queer person #they aren't understanding that hob's experience is different than theirs #because he is autistic #also for many other reasons but like. look. we're talking autism babey. #and also i'm not saying rue can't also be autistic or neurodivergent in some way #but they don't have the same experience as hob does

[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.''

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

#ramble after realtags yeag. shoutout to serrangelic btw suggesting the silhouettes thing bc i would have Died otherwise #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #arting #pizzaposting #so anyway i think fake peppino has like. a general awareness that he is supposed to Be Peppino and that he was Made to do that #and likewise he does generally try to...do that. the thing he does NOT realize is hes like really goddamn bad at it #not to be mean but like...c'mon. they are pretty distinctly different kinds of guys even beyond the physiology yknow. #he's neither on-brand nor fooling anyone dsjdsjjkgfsd. BUT! #since the rest of the cast generally likes him [at least as I play it] he thinks hes doing just fine #he's like 'oh they r happy with me so i must be getting a good grade in being peppino :)' #so getting told that 'yeah you actually really suck at that but that was never the reason people liked you' #and told that by og model peppino no less--yknow THE guy he's supposed to be living up to #who's already a bit intimidating for that and who ALSO totally wrecked him TWICE in the tower #making him acutely familiar with just how formidable the guy is and how much there IS to live up to.... #it's a Moment for sure. not really a sad or hurt one though. just... contemplative. #thinking abt people liking him for being the guy he's already naturally been being even though that guy is Not Peppino #i don't think he's gonna be super broken up about realizing he has a bad grade in peppino given everything else hes got now #nor do i really think he cares enough to go like reinvent himself or whatever after the fact #he seems to b pretty clearly having fun with it already so i think he just keeps doing that #and in some cases he still has the pre-installed peppino traits/instincts like to cooka da pizza. and that's fine #is this projection. yes. but if youve been following me awhile you know most of my character writing is ghdhfdgf #gonna kinda expand on all this in the gerome one which is...one after next. itll be a bit but man. #anyway peppino will never admit to anyone and especially not himself that he's gotten a little attached to the guy. hee hoo #pep tends to be kinda surly but he certainly has his ways of showing he cares. all of which are on display here #''that thing is not my son'' says man currently watching thing's antics with the 'bemused dad' arms crossed pose. yeah ok buddy. #gus is totally onto him already but hes not gonna say anything. #if u read all this ur prize is not having to go decode fp's rot13. his lines are ''meant to be you...?'' and ''wrong question.''

[flowercrowngods]

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid@hotluncheddie @gutterflower77@auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important@stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic@bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

#steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie #steve x eddie #listen i have a couch now and if you know me you know that i get really fucking emo about the tiniest things #i fixed my lock with graphite btw when i was blackout drunk. it still fills me with so much joy #sorry tag list gang idk what this is but it wanted out #i could write fics/poems/whatever about the most mundane things until the end of my days tbh so today we have: couch #dio words #dio's steddie ramblings #the hurt/comfort is implied like you'll catch it when you reflect on the words but most importantly this is healing. and comfort. and fluff #and so much love and understanding it makes me wanna throw up

[redcallisto]

Danstelle week 2023 Day 2 - Nightmares | Stellaron Hunter Stelle

#honkai star rail #hsr #dan heng #stelle #danstelle #from angst to hurt/comfort #i promise tomorrows one is less sad #i only write both prompts to show which was the other option btw #also dh is such a dramatic texter like i studied this mans texts #the constant “...” #i could write a whole damn essay about them btw. just say yes and i will #like actually #i will #tell me to

[quirkle2]

[zombie au] when ur.when ur brotherturns into a z.when ur brother turns into a zombie and u spend the next several years of ur childhood braving the most fucked up shit ever so u can find a cure and it gets to the point where ur killing parts of urself just to pick up the pieces of ur brother with shaking, cut up hands and glue him back together but at that point ur just going to end up bringing him back to a world that's not worth living in

#qkdraws #id in alt #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho #mp100 #zombie au #ritsu kageyama #mp100 ritsu #shigeo kageyama #mp100 shigeo #mp100 mob #btw even tho i like to draw mob snarling and being a bit feral i do wanna make it clear that he's Very rarely like that #i just enjoy it when he Is so i draw it <3 hope thishelps #he's usually more like the top right. chill as fuck. not a single thought in that head #mob only gets aggressive when ritsu's in trouble #in the top left one he's actually snarling at tome. bc of uhm.reasons <3 #dw she didn't hurt ritsu. mob just Thinks she did and he's going mad abt it #wanna write that part eventually. maybe. some day perhaps #anyway yeah.uhm. i think im cookin w this au #im cookin Smth. might not be edible but im cookin and u can't take that away from me #mob doesn't just have eye bags cuz he's a zombie and owahh zombies gotta look scary #he has them cuz in this au it's REALLY hard to fall asleep when ur zombie #but ur stillhuman and u still require sleep to live. which is why sleep deprivation is like the leading cause of zombie death in this world #and that means ritsu has to be Super careful not to let mob go too long without sleep #he's always tryin to get the poor guy to Rest. even when ur exhausted beyond belief it's Rly hard to sleep when ur a zombie #ur brain's been rewired n shit man. it fucks up a lot of systems #ritsu has eye bags bc he's .tormented.by the entire earth #quite literally everything is against him.for a very long time #and he's fuckin exhausted man.he's fuckin tired #fun fact if u raid my inbox about this au ill kiss u on the mouth

[kakusu-shipping]

headcanons for dating Kyoya from Ouran? Iirc he was one of my crushes when I first watched the anime as a kid and I always thought his glasses were so cool

Dating Kyoya Ootori Headcanons

He's the kind of guy who says he'd want someone low maintenance, who'd let him put work first, but then you meet his friend group and realize he's full of shit and does need the balance of someone clingy, loud, and high strung. It's comforting to him, familiar.

He could plan a date if you wanted him too, and it'd be classic and romantic and expensive with every little detail and moment planned out, but all of it would be pure "what the internet said a good date would be". It'd be better to tell him what you want to do as a starting off point, and he'd go from there

Gifts are a lot like his date planning as well, he'll get you anything you ask for but if you don't tell him directly what you want, you're getting whatever the top google results for Good Gift for Romantic Partner is. He won't get you something you'd hate or wouldn't use of course, but he figures if you wanted something specific you'd tell him.

All of this changes of course when he's feeling petty. One of the other hosts call him out for being so passive in his relationship? He'll change his tune, get you something perfect you didn't even know you needed until right then, or plan a date to somewhere you'd always wanted to go but never actually considered. He knows you better than anyone else, even yourself, and he can prove it when provoked.

You're probably the only person who could convince him to put down a project before 2am, or even better the only one who could wake him up before noon on a day off and survive the encounter without a verbal lashing. Though you probably still can't actually get him out of bed without good reason.

If he was ever mean to you in the morning he would probably be rather mortified, and would spend the day trying to make it up to you, subtlety of course. Please don't take anything he says before he's fully awake to heart.

He has thousands of photos of you on his phone, btw. And on Tachibana's phone. And a few on Honda's. And maybe a couple on Aijima's as well. He can't help himself, he just wishes to capture every beautiful moment he has with you. He's considered equipping Honda with a professional camera to capture beautiful moments of the two of you together as well. He is the best of the staff at photography.

#Emile's Writing #Kyoya Ootori #Kyoya X Reader #OHSHC X Reader #Ouran High School Host Club #GN Reader #Gender Neutral Reader #Well... really reader gender unmentioned fkgjkfgj #Read the Ouran manga if you haven't anon btw it's SO good and where 90% of my concept gets it's footing #You 🤝 Me #Childhood crush on Kyoya Ootori #I still love him honestly he's such a Guy #The entire Host Club are SO goofy ideal friend group #Just a bunch of bullies all of them #Starting with the headcanon request so I don't have to think of dialog cause my head hurts #Thankyou very much for requesting!!

[fandomestuff]

I've seen many people shit on the live action atla ((as we should this is such a bad adaptation and honestly a mid show in itself)) but I haven't really seen people talk stuff about Sokka and Suki

And I want to point out a couple of things that I absolutely hated about what they did to them in live action.

1. The kiss

I hate that they made them kiss at the end of the episode. I hate it so much. Like yes, in the original they both clearly had feelings for each other (especially that later Suki talks about losing sb very important to her, who we know was Sokka), but they weren't rushed like that.

In the original they both grow so much between their meetings. Sokka finally gets together with a girl (not the first girl he meets that's his age, like Suki), kisses sb for the first time, travels the world, meets new people and in general matures.

We don't know much about what Suki is doing during that time, but we know she finally does sth that helps people during war, sth that she said was important to her. She can finally put her skills in leadership to greater use and she feels great about it. She also matures during that time and we know that she still thinks about Sokka and misses him.

Them kissing immediately makes their relationship so much more bland and just... flat.

2. If they make all three seasons, we will probably not get the most iconic line of the show...

Because now Sokka's first girlfriend is technically Suki...

3. The whole scene with Suki teaching Sokka

I cannot empathise enough how important Sokka's sexism is in their relationship. It's something that Suki fixes in him, something she manages to show him... by absolutely kicking his ass. In live action... the fight scene next to those melons was a joke not a fight scene if I can be honest. Idk if it's the writing or the choreography or the actors but it looks so fake and just so bad 💀 And she attacked him while he was still "stretching"??? Suki would never.

What is this 💀💀

But the most important scene, and the one I hate the most in live action, is the one where Suki teaches him a very sacred and traditional and important to Suki and to her culture way of fighting.

In the original, Suki highlights that no man should learn their art and only after Sokka begs Suki to teach him does she agree.

But not without a very important piece that was fully missing from live action which baffles me so much.

The entire armor, the dress and make up.

Not only is it incredibly important to upholding the traditions and keeping the cultural aspect important, but the beautiful, might I add, outfit gives us the depth of Kyoshi Warriors that is just missing from the live action.

"The silk thread symbolizes the brave blood that flows through our veins. The gold insignia represents the honor of the warrior's heart."

It's beautiful. It's meaningful for both of them. It's important. And it's also a way for Suki to mess with Sokka which we love and stan.

I ALSO DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY SUKI TOOK OFF HER MAKE UP FOR THE ALMOST KISS AND THE KISS. It's not like being a Kyoshi Warrior is sth that's bothering her. NO. She's incredibly proud of it!! So. why. take. an. important. part. of. it. away. for. some. stupid. kiss.

WHY NOT GO THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION?? Instead of her taking off her make up for the romantic scene why not just... put make up on Sokka... honestly what's more romantic than putting make up on your crush.

They could have made such a beautiful and intimate scene between these two.

Them sitting in front of each other. Suki putting on Sokka's make up, while either talking about herself or about how important this whole set up is for her and her culture. I wouldn't mind it then because it would give their relationship some depth instead of "omg he's so pretty" "omg she's so pretty." *kiss*

But no. Instead they kissed right next to a group of people (including Suki's mother which just makes is so much more weird) after Suki said sth about Sokka showing her a bit of the world.

And I hate it so much.

It takes away the part where Suki teaches Sokka something very important, something that changes his personality, helps with his arc to Sokka "showing her a bit of the world". How?? With what?? It's not like he took her away from the Island itself or introduced her to his culture. No. He just... showed up and kissed her.

Great writing.

And don't get me starter on the "I'm not just a warrior. I'm a Kyoshi Warrior" line. It's a good line. It really is. But it would be better if the producers actually focused on Suki being a Kyoshi Warrior and not just a girl that has a crush on Sokka.

And while it's compared to "I'm a warrior. But I'm a girl too"... gods I... ughhhhhhh

So yeah. I hated it. I hated the show. All I have to say is:

They ruined my favourite couple. They ruined many great characters. They completely missed the point of the original story.

#and man it hurts me so much how they “matured” Aang #he has like three goofy lines but besides that he's a fucking philosopher #why #why would they do that #i could talk about why this show is so bad for hours really #i don't mind there being changes but not like that #oh! and btw this isn't hate on the actors #i actually think they would be perfect sokka and suki if the writing was good #looking at the screen of their kiss makes me so happy honestly!! #but then i remember the context and i want to bang my head on the wall #so yeah this is a hate post on the writers and netflix #live action avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender live action #avatar #avatar live action #sokka #suki #sukka #sokka x suki

[zedif-y]

"wow the emotions in this feel so REAL" thanks i yanked that out from my ribcage for the world to see

#ryan's screaming #this isnt in a bad way btw . its just. gestures . you know #visceral writing can come from a really personal place and ive been feeling that a lot lately. #art and creation really is about baring your soul to the world and it's honestly a little terrifying #like yeah. yeah this is what hurts me this is what makes me tick and this is what keeps me going. this is my heart. i hope you enjoy. #and for fanfic its under a lens of a fictional character so its like. #safer to put out there but in the end their hurts are my hurts because i wrote the words in my blood. or something . #i cant say shit normally LKSJDGHKJSDHG anyway writers u get it i think. hope this makes sense

[demonboyhalo]

ik plagiarism usually must be v annoying/demotivating to go through, but when ur part of a small fandom and can tell exactly where a fic got its ideas from, it's kinda hilarious bc

oh? niche blorbo plans the same heists? crafts the same gadgets? uses the same quips? has the same music taste? my fellow writer in a tag w less than 100 fics, i see u peeking over my hedges and taking my plums

#all of these things listed were things I completely made up for my fic btw it's not like a fanon thing #more than half the fics with this blorbo have him as a non pov antag like he doesn't even Get hcs #but anyways they seem young so im thinking maybe they just don't know how to add inspo on ao3?? but they're not hurting me or anything #it was just so funny for me to go ooo a fic in this dead tag *click* *read* *my hcs* huh. well that's a funny coinci— *oh it's all over* #fanfiction #writing #ao3 #encounter: demon

[gilears]

it's so hard to believe (but i'm trying to change)

1.4k, fig missing scene, canon-compliant

Fig follows Quincy home after warlock class for two reasons and two reasons only—the first reason is because he’s suspicious and may pose a security threat for (future) President Applebees. The second reason is because he’s a narc and a shitty bitch. (or: fig goes on a walk and thinks about gilear.) (read on ao3)

this week's follow up is about the fact that gilear still hasn't, like, even reached out to fig at all to let her know that hes gonna be gone for... a year? because what the fuck, man.

#fh #fhjy #fantasy high #fig faeth #storytime #sorry i just love hurting her #this ones shorter and a little loosey goosey-er #but i had fun! #been on a lizzy mcalpine lockdown this week i hope i did the vibes justice #shoutout to me for getting this done in the face of the Symptoms #it has been such a blast writing these each week btw #great exercise in not being so fucking precious about it all #and riding the wave of inspiration and just having fun with it! yay!

[skitskatdacat63]

I don't know how I'd ever convey this in art but. Thinking very deeply about how in boy king au, a very crucial part of characterization is that Seb is a wolf in sheep(or lamb more specifically)'s clothing and Fernando is a sheep in wolf's clothing.

Seb is very unassuming, very delicate, seemingly very vulnerable and malleable. But, deep down, he can be very ruthless. It's in the the way he hesitantly declares war, with a spark in his eye and a suppressed smirk. In the way he challenges someone to a card game or a horse race, proclaiming that he's not great, but winning every round and prancing around the room and mentioning it ad infinitum. The way he's able to instantly turn the tide in a debate in one fell swoop. By showing all his cards constantly and letting himself be vulnerable, he's making himself invulnerable. No one would ever consider him to be able to make big moves, so he wins every single time, because no one even thinks to expect it from him.

Fernando on the other hand, is constantly committed to having a looming presence and harsh reputation, but deep down, he's soft. He knows what happens to people when they're vulnerable, and he's not going to let himself be taken advantage of. The way he keeps a brave face when being informed of the marriage proposal, but goes back to his room and cries. The way he proclaims that he was always going to be the rightful ruler of Spain, but confides to Flavio that he never thought there was any real chance of it ever happening. The way he takes himself so seriously in public, but inside feels so giddy whenever he can make someone laugh. Everything to him always feels unstable and ready to crumble at any moment, and he's not willing to contribute to that by letting himself relax.

I think thats why it's very difficult for them to get along at first, because they have completely different approaches to how they carry themselves and make their way through life. Seb is confused at Fernando because he feels that he's very bland and overly serious at first, but truthfully he's not really seeing the actual Fernando. And Fernando finds Seb to be naive and easily taken advantage of, but that's because he's never seen Seb at his most cruel. Seb really loves when he eventually gets to see Fernando being vulnerable, and Fernando really admires and respects Seb when he sees him being serious. I think it just takes a while for them to show the other their full and complete selves, even the parts they can sometimes be ashamed of. There's this very compelling dichotomy in Seb laying out all his cards, but still being very difficult to read, and Fernando keeping his cards to his chest, but his intentions often being easily seen through.

#meanwhile everyone else: what is this weird fucked up mating ritual they are participating in #though i think its very interesting how their motivations differ #seb wants to lull people into a false sense of security(and also really just likes to be his complete unadulterated self) #and fernando is guarding himself because he doesn't want to get hurt #and i think seb convinces Fernando that its okay to be openly soft and yourself :) not eveyrone is out to get you #and fernando teaches seb hey maybe dont invite this obvious assassin to your chambers????? #i think seb also has insecurites but Fernando's are just more easy to explain bcs hes in a much more difficult situation #at the end of the day both of them are putting on facades in some way #(i think seb likes to be himself but also does feel really hurt when people dont think he has the capacity or ability to rule effectively) #(he likes to be kind and playful and doesnt want to obscure that part of himself. but hes aware it can hurt his image unfortunately) #also lol the way i characterize fernando is very historically accurate btw #bcs the spanish court tradition was basically to be above it all and be a lofty unobtainable figure if that makes sense #yknow having just this insane level of confidence and infallible image of yourself as the ruler #the guy seb is based on really bought into that idea but i dont think it really suits seb so yeah #seb I think is very much a unique figure that others have a lot of trouble reading him and his intentions. which is great! #AAAAAHHH MAN FELT REALLY GOOD TO WRITE ALL THAT OUT !!!!!!!!! #i love writing their characterization so fucking much you dont understand #its nice to put it in words like this bcs yknow i dont rly enjoy actual writing. but this i enjoy greatly #hope this is compelling to more than just me hahaha #boy king au #catie.rambling.txt #vettonso

[mamawasatesttube]

just remembered how megfitz made tim think about how bernard is so much better than all the other relationships he'd "settled for" and was once again briefly consumed by rage. meghan you apologize to zoanne wilkins right the fuck now

#rimi talks #like also apologize to ari and steph and all but. i specifically am a zoanne wilkins stan blog until i die. so #i can't lie. this line alone made me dislike tim/ber significantly more than i did before reading it #and the rest of tdr did Not help with that. #protip: if you have to put down women in order to prop up your m/m ship i WILL hate that m/m ship out of spite immediately #especially when you do nothing to sell me on the ship other than going HEY THEYRE PERFECT BTW. THEYRE SO PERFECT TOGETHER. like... ok #can you tell me why they even like each other tho. (she cannot bc she doesnt know how to write a mediocre romance forget a compelling one) #god i really just. that comic was a trash fire. lord. the mentions of kon in it made the kill bill sirens go off in my head #anyways. its fine tdr isnt real it cant hurt me. but meghan does still owe my girls an apology lmao

[bitchthefuck1]

The fact that Jesper is like. a mid-tier fabrikator at best is actually so important to me.

So much of this story centers around the fact that these people are not chosen ones, that they have no sacred destiny or otherworldly power, but that they're children doing the best they can in a system that doesn't care about them, and all they have are their wits and each other. Jesper isn't an especially gifted grisha, and he has no formal training, but he takes that teaspoon of unremarkable talent and applies it to a skill he spent years perfecting to make something even greater and wholly his own. He isn't special because he was born that way, he's special because he made himself special.

#i could literally talk about this forever #this also applies to every other character btw #but jesper is a great example #i love him so much #this is lowkey why i don't love all the meta ppl write about him going to the little palace to learn #also i think its super important to note that wylan doesn't encourage him to embrace his abilities to 'get more powerful' or whatever #he specifically wants him to do it because repressing that side of him is actively hurting him and he can't spend his life ignoring part of #who he is #wesper #jesper fahey #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #six of crows meta #also like. the fact that he learned this not from an institution or a grisha specialist but from his mother. it's just v important to me #rip aditi hilli you were a real one

[vacantgodling]

oc kiss week day 6 4: reach

i’m posting this out of order bc i had this finished first LMAO 💀 next one i’ll post is day 4 promise pff

WIP: the chronicles of lathsbury (tcol)

SHIP: erik soori (he/him, ranger) x un "dion" undershield (he/him, protector)

SUMMARY: dion knew it was his fault, but that didn't make it hurt less. the worst part was erik didn't blame him at all.

tw(s): major out of context spoilers, amputation (not in graphic detail, it's already been done) & traumatic limb loss

worldbuilding notes: erik and miona are both from diisai, which is an island to the west of terrae's mainland across the eastern sea (which is not east lmao). diisaians like themselves have a sort of highland (scottish) adjacent sounding accent, and because i like writing vernaculars, you'll see that make an appearance here. erik's accent is stronger than miona's because miona grew up in the capital of diisai while erik grew up in the highlands.

also sorry in advance for this this is so sad fr LMAO.

“I spoke wi’eh doctor.” Miona said. She wasn’t looking at him, or where Erik lay, deathly still on the hospital bed. His body was fully covered by blankets up to his chin, and his face didn’t look peaceful so much as he just looked like a corpse. If Dion knew Miona better, like Erik did, maybe he would’ve been able to read through whatever emotion her flat voice was trying to hide. He didn’t look at her either. Just kept staring at him like he had for the past week. She waited a long moment before she continued. 

“After he’s granted discharge, it's recommended ‘at he retire.” 

Another long beat passed. 

“He can’t.” Dion was surprised hearing his own voice—the last time he heard it like this was when Fia passed and. And. He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose; he couldn’t think about her. Not now, it would break him.

Miona whirled on him, her eyes suddenly blazing. “Can’t?!” Her voice was shrill. “He lost his fucking arm, you heartless piece o’ shit!” Guilt seared through Dion’s gut like he’d been fileted, and it was hard not to double over from the pain of it. “Th’ whole damn thing!” She screamed and Dion wished he could scream too. He knew! And it was his fault. Miona wasn’t done her tirade however. “Can you stop being so fucking selfish for once in yer damn life—”

“I know what he lost!” Dion finally growled, cutting her off. He could barely breathe around the nausea that gripped him like iron from the inside of his throat, strangling him with every word, but he pushed them out. “But you and I both know he won’t!” 

Miona glowered at him, grinding her teeth, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it herself. She tried again. “Then convince ‘im! For pity’s sake, he can’t go on like this!” 

Dion turned away from her, and away from Erik no matter how much he needed to stare at him to make sure that he was there. “I can’t do that.” His voice was barely a puff of air; a wheeze.

If he was looking at Miona, he would’ve seen the way she tugged at her hair in frustration. “Ye’re the only one who can!” She choked on her words, tears welling up in her voice like an overflowing dam. “He’ll ne’er be able to shoot a bow again—don’t ye get it? And you know he won’t sit around and do paperwork all day!” 

“I’m not stupid.” Dion felt the stupid, useless tears that he hated to shed begin to trail down his dark cheeks and he pointedly kept his face turned away. That’s what was tearing him up—he knew that Erik was fucked over beyond repair and he fucking caused it.

The one thing Fia loved about Erik more than anything was his bow. The one thing that completed Erik, was that ridiculous thing, near as large as Dion’s own shield, at his side. He drew it with such a raw power in a way that was lost on the rangers of the mainland; a unique artform all of its own. And because of Dion it was ruined. He’d ruined Fia’s dream—as the last insult to her memory. He’d ruined Erik, as the final straw in the string of insults that Dion had taken at his character. The one man who never left him. The one man who coddled him, listened to him, cared for him even when he didn’t fucking deserve it—

“Get out o’eh way, ye stupid bastard!” 

Dion kept replaying the moment over and over in his mind. 

He had been so focused. So, angry, and reckless—Erik shouldn’t have had to cover his blind spot. Erik shouldn’t have known his blind spot… But logic reasoned that if anyone would’ve known it, Erik would. They’d been fighting together for… too long now. This was the price for that.

Both he and Miona were startled out of their argument by a shifting of the sheets. Of a loud, pained groan. 

“A’ll get th’ doctor!” Miona said. She rushed for the door, pausing for only a moment to look back at Dion. “But remember what Ah said. And don’t ye dare hurt him.”

Dion didn’t bother to deign what she said with a response. He was too busy falling to his knees by the bedside, grasping Erik’s trembling left hand in his own—what was left of him. 

He was forcibly moved from the bedside when the doctor rushed in.

It was another week before Erik awoke again. And in all that time, Dion stayed by his bedside. He tried to read, but his mind wouldn’t follow the words, but there was nothing else to do so he forced himself through passage after passage of drivel until it made his eyes burn and his head swim.

During that time, the room was constantly fluctuating with visitors: Miona came in nearly every day, and the barman—Papa, whatever his name, stopped by as well. The Diisiain they spoke rapidly between each other was too hushed for Dion to catch any of, but he noticed the forlorn look the burly man gave Erik when he finally ambled out. Cameron stopped by, and that archer his sister fancied, along with other people Dion hadn’t bothered to learn the names of. He’d never… realized how well liked Erik was. He’d been so focused on himself, his vengeance, his pain—its like he never even knew who Erik was. Is. He wasn’t dead. He had to keep telling himself that.

It was a sentiment proven true when Erik began to stir. Dion almost didn’t notice, given how quiet this awakening was compared to the previous outburst. His honey brown eyes were barely visible under his drooping lids, but visible enough for Dion to start when he said, all rasp, “Ne’er thought Ah’d see th’ day where ye’d voluntarily read somethin’, bubble boy.” 

The silly nickname that normally Dion hated constricted something fierce in his chest, and his heart stopped, before it began to hammer against his ribs. “You’re awake.” He said dumbly. “You’re actually awake.” 

“Fer better or worse.” Erik sighed heavily, so much that Dion could almost hear the creak of his bruised lungs. “Though Ah feel like th’ Lady o’ tha Universe sent th’ planet crashin’ down on me brow an’ knocked me clean oot. I feel awful.” Despite it, Erik chuckled and Dion felt his heart crash down to his stomach. How could he do this? How was he this endless well of optimism. When Fia died, Erik hadn’t shed a tear that Dion could see. Just held him, helped him bury her body—their bodies of the rest of their team. When Dion shunned his jokes and his cheer, he’d let it roll off of his shoulders without even blinking. He almost wanted to ask—what kept him cheerful when the world was cruel and heartless? But then Erik sat up on the bed. With some difficulty, Dion could add. The book he was reading fell from his lap as he lunged to reach Erik, helping him get to an upright position with a hand steadied on his back. The blanket dropped from his shoulders, and suddenly it was bared to the world. Bandaged; but enough that Dion felt the nausea of guilt arrest him again. Where Erik’s right arm should’ve been, there was nothing but a nub right at the shoulder. It was a clean break, like someone snapped it off like an icicle or chalk, and not the horribly mangled, jagged thing it had been when Dion and Jace managed to drag him to the hospital, already passed clean out from the pain. They must’ve had to amputate slightly further up, to salvage what they could… even if it wasn’t much. 

Aware of it, Erik stilled, and how he was turned obscured his expression from Dion. Without warning, his left arm came grasping at the place where his arm once was. 

“She’s really gone… Isn’t she?” Erik’s voice was threadbare. But surprisingly, he wasn’t the one who’d begun to cry.

When Dion didn’t give him an answer, Erik turned his head. The worried expression on his face was swimming in Dion’s vision.

“Oi… Ye… ye’re cryin’?” Erik looked about as lost as Dion felt. When he tried to open his mouth, no sound came out. “Ah…” Erik’s left hand reached out then hesitated, unsure. But, steeling his resolve, he reached out all the way, and grasped Dion by the front of his shirt. It only took one tug to pull Dion into his embrace, and any other day, any other time Dion would’ve shoved him off but now… His arms just felt too weak. 

Against his hair, he felt a brush of Erik’s lips. 

“Ah didn’t think ye’d cry.” He said, hushed. The lips pressed into Dion’s hair again, this time more purposeful and it hit Dion so sharply that he felt dizzy. Despite the fact that Dion caused his injury. Despite the fact that Dion couldn’t do anything but growl and scowl and give him grief for his troubles to be friendly, that no matter what happened between them, Erik was always there whenever Dion fell. He couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t bear it. 

“If Ah thought Ah could’a gone fer me bow, I woulda but…” Erik tried to laugh but it came out watery and broken. “An’ now… Ah’m ne’er gonna shoot me bow again.” He laughed again, but this one was more pained and Dion pulled away, if only to look into Erik’s eyes. Tears had begun pouring down his face like a river’s spring flood.

Dion wished he knew what to say.

“.... Ah promised meself that Ah wouldn’t regret it if ye were safe.” Erik whispered, and then suddenly he was breaking. It was all Dion could do but pull Erik into his chest as he wailed, his tears wrenching and racking his whole, too thin body with them. All Dion could do was hold him and mirror the gesture; pressing the most delicate of kisses to Erik’s head as he fell apart.

#ockiss24 #these two drive me insane they BREAK ME they HURT ME SM #this is part of what makes dion finally get his head out of his ass btw #s: tcol #ren writing #spoilers ig

[evilkaeya]

anyone interested in skk hurt/comfort featuring suicidal chuuya

#I'm not done writing yet btw #just asking #first time writing REAL hurt/comfort #almost killed me... hurt/no comfort is so much easier