Just a Loser Pretending to be Profound

Hi, and welcome to my writing blog! Talk to me if you want. I generally post most of my writings to Archive of Our Own (@chip_off_the_writers_block) and Wattpad (@chipoff-writersblock). I try to update my stories once a week (currently on Friday). Icon made by @the-zombae

[ruinedchildhood]

[retrogamingblog]

Geometric Pokemon Drawings made by UnownGamer37

[action]

Happy Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, Tumblr!

Throughout the month of May, we’ll be celebrating contributions that Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders have made to our society by recognizing the importance of their accomplishments and shedding light onto their experiences. The APA term, rather broad, encompasses the all of the Asian continent and the Pacific islands of Melanesia.

Our focus will be on immigration, art, music, and activism within the Asian American and Pacific Islander community. We’ll have spotlights from the Asian American Federation, graphics of prominent Asian activists from @18mr, and a story about South Asian immigrants from the South Asian Digital Archive Association.

Artwork by @artbytori

As with any group of people, the Asian American and Pacific Islander community is not monolithic. Gender, socioeconomic status, age, and other intersectional identities mean every person experiences a different journey.

We want to know: How do you celebrate Asian Pacific American Heritage Month? Make a post and tag it #APAHM to join the conversation.

[honeyclef]

C-C-C-Cmon! Let’s go!

[retrogamingblog]

Papercraft Eeveelutions made by Ukjo Chang

[today-only-happens-once]

“You’re in my world now, not your world. And I’ve got friends on the other side.” (source)

[kayeet73]

HAPPY 20BITEEN ALL YOU FUNKY LITTLE BISEXUALS

[chip-off-the-writers-block]

Hey guys!

Due to some technical difficulties (I.E. I'm dumb and lost my laptop charger), I won't be able to post the scheduled update of Simon Snow Vs. The Heteronormals Agenda until probably Monday. I'm really sorry, and if an opportunity arises where I can post it earlier than that, I definitely will! Thank you for understanding!

[playbill]

Entire Off-Broadway Cast of Be More Chill Will Make the Move to Broadway

[retrogamingblog]

Pokemon Watercolor Paintings made by Dragon-fly

[character-shoes-andcoffee]

Nick: So let me get this straight-

Leah: More like, let me run this bi you.

Garrett: Let’s see how this pans out

Abby: Let me ace-ess the situation

Bram: We need to queer the air

Simon: …I’m gay.

[lightningstrikes-art]

[chip-off-the-writers-block]

Checkmate

The kingdom of Bianca and the kingdom of Noir have been locked in war for centuries. Pawns, knights, bishops, rooks, all of them play their part in trying to finally end the fighting. But the most powerful player is the queen, the hope of her kingdom. Haruka is the queen of Bianca, and she will do anything to keep her people safe. But she harbors a deep secret. Her heart lies behind enemy lines. Will she choose her duty above her desires? Or will she risk everything for just a chance at happiness?

https://www.wattpad.com/660896295-checkmate

[chip-off-the-writers-block]

Carry On Countdown Day 5- Mythology

This ended up being a day late, and much more complex than I originally intended. I’m not really sure if I’m happy with it as is, but I don’t want to wait much longer to post it, either. I want to post it on Ao3, but I might end up fleshing it out more and post a more in depth version there. I’m also debating on whether or not I should go back and do the days I previously missed, or just move on.

Title: Don’t Fly Too Close

Agatha

There are stories that cannot just be told, they must be created. Myths, fables, fairy tales, all of them must be lived. And, every so often, they are brought back, and they’re lived through again. Watford is full of students who hold characters in their heart, letting them live once more. We’re their second chance, their chance for redemption, or resolution.

This time, Watford is Greece, and the stories have begun to unfold. None of us are told who we are, but I know. I can see how it all plays out.

And this time, I won’t be ignored.

Baz

Watford is always thrown into chaos when a Visiting begins. Classes all begin teaching the same subject, with each professor going over every variation of the story that they’re assigned, hoping to lead us to who we’re supposed to be. There will always be at least one person whose head snaps up in class, their eyes wide and mouth agape. They’ll bolt out of class as they realize who they are, and begin to desperately search for who their counterpart is this time. 

Usually, the people who do this are idealists: princesses and knights who get to relive their happy ending. Villains aren’t as dramatic, and rarely have such a revelation during class. More often than not, they’re actually quiet and introspective as they try to right the wrongs of their past, or as their host battles between the life they know and the newfound anger in their heart.

It doesn’t feel that different, being one of these characters. It’s mostly small things, the pull towards someone you need to see, even if you have no idea who they are. Being a villain is a toss up, as you might be plagued with the vague sense of guilt, an apology for gods knows what rattling in your head, or you can feel the burn of anger in your throat, and you must decide whether or not to give into it.

I’ve been a villain in the past, always resolving their turmoil honestly and with care. A surprising number of them yearn to love themselves, and as a result, my success rate is quite high.

But this time, I’m not a villain.

When the Visiting began, I was surprised to find that instead of remorse or anger, I felt longing. My hands constantly feel just slightly out of place, as if I want to hold someone, and my dreams are filled with the smell of smoke.

The thing is, I know I’m flammable. I’m a walking candle wick, every spark threatens my existence.

And yet, I keep playing with fire.

Simon Snow is Apollo, god of the sun. He hasn’t told me, or anyone else, but it’s plain as day. His usually bright eyes are even brighter now, borderlining ethereal. Everywhere he goes is filled with warmth and light. Being in his presence feels like home, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. People are drawn to Simon, basking in his smiles that feel like hugs and relishing his laughter.

Simon smiles at me, and and the breath is stolen from my lungs. I curse the Fates that drew the lots for this Visiting as my fingers twitch once more.

I’m playing with fire, and if I give in to my destiny, I’m going to get burned.

Simon

Everything around me is so warm, and I swear I smell like a campfire. Lots of people have been talking to me since the Visiting started, all smiling. I should be really happy, but I can’t shake this empty feeling that came with the Visitng. Penny says that I must be Apollo, but why would a god feel so incomplete?

Classes are optional right now, which means that I’ve been spending most of my time outside, instead of in the classroom. I’ve never been the best at paying attention, and now with the air around me heating up, me being in class is more distracting to everyone else than helpful to me. Besides, I feel the happiest out and about, in the sunlight.

Not many of the other students are out and about like me, so it’s pretty peaceful. I settle to sit by the base of a tree just in time to see Agatha walk out of Watford’s main building.

She walks towards me with purpose. I smile and wave at her. She sits down next to me, eyes alight with determination.

“I’m going to say this once, Simon Snow, and you had better listen,” She says. “I can see the future, and I believe I’m the host of the oracle Cassandra. And I believe she wants to bury the hatchet with Apollo, so I came to help you. For your happiness, and to resolve your destiny with the Visiting, go find Baz.”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to understand exactly what she’s saying. Then, I nod, slowly, watching the relief wash over her face.

“Okay,” I say. “Okay. I can do that. Thanks, Agatha.”

I stand up and smile at her before taking off. I don’t really know where I’m going, but something feels right about just running.

Baz

There’s a rumor about how the Visitings work. Mainly, that the Fates will always pair couples that are supposed to be together with each other, or not at all. It’s all conjecture, of course, since none of us can prove how the Fates work, or if they choose who to give us, at all. But I know it can’t be true, because Simon and I aren’t meant to be. he doesn’t care for me like I care for him.

I can’t change Icarus’ destiny. I’m going to fail him, because I’m too scared of getting hurt.

I’m in the courtyard, reading different versions of the myth, trying to find another way I can make him happy, but I can’t find much. I keep looking, anyway.

I’m about halfway through the third iteration when I hear footsteps, and I feel a spike of affection, even though I don’t look up to see who it is.

Simon.

I can hear his heavy breathing, and when I look up, I’m met with a red-cheeked Simon Snow, who apparently ran to find me. The dull longing I’ve been feeling suddenly multiplies, my hands suddenly restless beyond belief.

Simon. Apollo. Mine.

I don’t know what to say, or what I should say. Instead, I just stare at Simon as he catches his breath. His eyes look at me with an intensity I cannot place. Then, he pushes himself forward, rushing towards me like he needs me.

Apollo. Mine. Simon. Love.

And suddenly, Simon Snow is in my arms, kissing me.

Mine.

Icarus flew too close to the sun, but it was the sea that ultimately drowned him. And I see now that I’m not just playing with fire. I’m trusting Simon not to let go and let the ocean get me. And I think I can.

[shanamichelewrites-blog]

[tlbodine]

You are providing a vital life service when you do this and your magic ears are appreciated.

[writing-prompt-s]

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

[eatbreathewrite]

It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.

It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.

It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.

As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.

Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.

“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”

She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.

The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.

That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.

“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.

It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.

Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.

The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.

“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”

The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.

“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.  

“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”

Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.

[voidbat]

this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.

[bigmammallama5]

i had to

[geniusorinsanity]

I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE

[rocky-horror-shit-show]

Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.

Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins

[silvermoonphantom]

I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils.   Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch.  Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart

[wickedwitchofthewifi-deactivate]

In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather.  Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here.  Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.” The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.

They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives. 

[captaintinymite]

[gilajames]

P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.

[kaijufluffs]

[jumpingjacktrash]

the last lines of the show:

demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?

anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.

demon: then why?

anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.

demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.

anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!

honey: W̝̽̂̿͂͝Ọ̮̹̲̪̋ͦͅO̸̘͔̬͊F̜̫͙̟͕͖̙̋ͫ͌͗

[thehoneybeewitch]

that addition is a+ :)

[iopele]

THE ONLY ENDING I WILL EVER ACCEPT FOR THIS

[americanninjax-deactivated20191]

[hardykat]

Every time this post shows up on my dash, it gets better (and more heart wrenching. Y’all! Stop cutting the onions okay?!).

[cell113]

If ever don’t reblogging this, I’m either dead, dying, or buried under cat.

[writing-prompt-s]

This is why I love Tumblr so much! Thank you all for collaborating on this prompt and turning it into something beautiful <3

[retrogamingblog]

Breath of the Wild Link Cosplay Gear made by Castro-Yves