writing prompt/imagine your otp
Person A: "Just what do you think you're doing?"
Person B: *struggling to light a candle, dozens of dead or broken matches on their bedroom floor* "With any luck? You"

shark vs the universe
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Jules of Nature

JBB: An Artblog!

blake kathryn
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I'd rather be in outer space šø
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if i look back, i am lost
KIROKAZE
YOU ARE THE REASON
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@kalimarswriting
writing prompt/imagine your otp
Person A: "Just what do you think you're doing?"
Person B: *struggling to light a candle, dozens of dead or broken matches on their bedroom floor* "With any luck? You"
You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.
I think Iād have minded less if Iād committed a truly heinous crime. Something that warranted death. Or even if I was the kind of person who would enjoy flinging a last defiance at my execution.
It was all just a show, anyway. They did it every year. They brought out a selection of criminals, and the Sorcerer who ruled us showed his power by bringing about their deaths by magic. Just to show, every year, what happened to anyone who crossed him.
There was a time, probably, when the people he executed really were rebels or assassins. In latter days he had to take what the dungeons offered. I was dragged up in chains between a pickpocket, sobbing in terror, and a man whoād killed another man in a brawl. There were few criminals of any note, by then. So instead of choosing the wickedest criminals, they chose based on appearance. The man whoād been in the brawl had a face like a clenched fist, and looked like a ruffian. The pickpocket, aging and with hands beginning to tremble, was a different kind of example. As was I.
āThere arenāt many pretty ones, this year,ā the man who chose me had said, examining me. āBut this one will do. Not young, but not old, a woman, well-favoured enough for the gallows⦠what was her crime?ā
The warder shrugged. āShe tried to kill one of the sheriffs.ā
The man looked down at me and I shrugged. āI hit him with a washing stick, because he tried to extort money from me, and he was a baby about it.ā I refused to treat this as anything but pathetic, even after my sentencing. āI didnāt even break any bones.ā
āTreason, then,ā the man said, nodding. āAttacking the servants of the law. That will look well on the list. Send her.ā
I had been debating ever since what to choose. Something quick? Something painless? I considered demanding that I suffer the attack I supposedly made on the sheriff, but then I realized the Sorcerer would only give me what the man had saidĀ I was going to do, and that was not a pleasant way to die. I had all but decided on something swift and relatively painless. Beheading with the sharpest of blades sounded good. It would be quick.Ā
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I love when fantasy worlds have some nonsensical magical force that prevents technology from working.
Like⦠how does the magic determine where technology begins? I mean, a gun is just a little house for tiny explosions to live⦠what part of that process is interrupted by magic? Does gunpowder simply not combust in Magictopia?
What about the wheel? Bifocals? Condoms? Skateboards? Bicycles? Vaccines? Pyramids? Does a flint-knapped knife not count as technology?
āShit.ā
āWhat seems to be the matter?ā asked the Elf, in that same insufferably airy tone that would have made it a fortune doing voiceovers for shampoo commercials.
Khalil sighed miserably. āPhoneās dead,ā he said, scowling at the shimmering city. āFigures. Of course it lets me take a thousand blurry cat pictures and then konks out on me the moment I find something worth photographing.ā
The Elf laughed. Khalil suspected it was meant to be a scornful laugh, but his companion had the emotional inflection of an automated voice messaging system, and it lacked punch.
āFoolish human,ā said the Elf. āYour āphoneā will not work here. No technology functions past the borders of Faerie.ā
If Khalil let his eyes unfocus and used his imagination, the expression it wore could almost pass for smugness. āNow hang on,ā he said. āThatās a fucking lie. No way is that true.ā
āFoolish human, I cannot tell a lāā
āOh, shut up. You say no technology works here, but youāre clearly wearing some kind of ritzy elf sword. Are you gonna try to tell me that they grow on trees here? Obviously youāve got smelting and forges and metallurgy. Youāre wearing woven fabric, and you stole a bunch of medicine from that pharmacy in Detroit. We rode my bike over that troll bridge and it didnāt stop working.ā
āThatās different,ā protested the Elf, a shallow groove between itās eyebrows betraying profound distress. āThatās not technology.ā
āIt is, though! āTechnologyā doesnāt just mean guns and electronāā
There was a hand clamped tight over his mouth, smothering him before he had even registered movement. āHold your tongue before I cut it out of your head,ā hissed the Elf in his ear. āYou donāt know what youāre messing with.ā
It released him, and Khalil stumbled back, staring wildly. It had moved terrifyingly quickly. No doubt it could make good on its threat if it cared toāsix years of boxing and he still had no hope of defending himself against something that could move like that.
āWhat magic doesnāt know canāt hurt it,ā said the Elf in a low and strangely unsteady voice, sounding for the first time like a living being. āBe careful what ideas you give it. Some things seem right, and thatās what matters.ā
The Elf must have grabbed him hard, Khalil realized, tasting the tang of blood where his lip had been torn open on his teeth. He swallowed, and stared at the Elf in horror. āAre you telling me,ā he said slowly, āThat your entire magical system, the physics of your entire world⦠is based⦠on vibes?ā
The Elf grimaced and did not meet his eyes.
As the Elfās screams grew louder and more frantic, Khalilās mind alternated between two distinct but equally insistent convictions: first, that this was the stupidest plan anyone had ever advised in this world or any other; second, that it was going to work.
The part of him that was a twenty-seven year-old peace activist recoiled in disgust even as the ten year-old pirate fanatic vibrated with excitement. If I live through this, he thought, Iāll have to tell my mom that all those hours glued to the History Channel werenāt wasted, after all.
Very gently, he tipped a little of the powder down the barrel of the gun. He had no way of knowing the appropriate amount to use and simply guessed; after all, if his suspicions were correct, it might not matter much in this world.
He pried the moldering leather bag out from under the skeletonās arm and reached inside. A few dozen lead balls clinked together under his fingers, along with a little bundle of greasy cloth. With trembling fingers, he tore off a square of fabric and wrapped it around one of the bullets. Like a swaddled baby, he thought grimly, and pushed it down the barrel until it was nestled snugly over the gunpowder.
Almost ready, he thought. He dropped a pinch of powder into the flashpan on the top of the gun, flicked the frizzen back into position, and rose to his feet.
āStep away from the Fabio impersonator,ā he said, kicking the rotten door off its hinges.Ā āOr I will shoot you with my gun.ā
āYou have the name of a poet,ā said the queen, studying him cooly with pupiless eyes as green and unsettling as a neglected swimming pool. āThat is a good thing, Khalil of Ann Arbor. We are fond of poets here.ā
The queen was beautiful, but she was not attractive. No, thought Khalil, thatās not right. She was attractiveāin the way that the lights of beachside cities attract baby sea turtles away from the surf; attractive in the way that hot stoves attract curious childrenās hands; attractive in the way that trays of beer attract garden slugs to drink themselves to death.Ā
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TheĀ room was well-appointed for a prison cell. Khalil caught himself wondering how they had managed to grow perfect cushions of lush green moss in the shape of a bed and armchairābut of course it was magic. It was always magic.Ā Moss didnāt need light or water or nutrients or support structures when there was magic to make it grow.
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Days passed, or seemed to pass. Khalil found himself thinking of his grandfather, who had carried a Damascene pocket watch until the end of his days. No amount of cajoling or bribery or international call plans had ever managed to convince him to use the cellphone heād been given, or even to adopt a wristwatch. His daughters teased him for being old and set in his ways, but he insisted that technology was easier to use if he understood how it worked.
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how can you say this is the last installment when you end on that cliffhanger? š
Itās a cliffhanger with hope! Theyāve got a tool now.
Just an OC from a new(ish) story I'm writing, More than a FEW! It's an SI/OC-insert for Fire Emblem Warriors (acronym FEW), which I've made more than a few plot changes to, hence the title.
Jaylen is nonbinary and also very impulsive. Hence sticking their arm in a wall of dark magic, 'cause that's a great idea, right?
(Also I'm very sorry, but I don't have the attention-span for alt-text right now. I'll try to get to it later.)
use comic sans to write
i hate this so much but this knowledge is too powerful to keep from you all.
last night @phaltu discovered that setting your font to comic sans in google docs improves writing speed and creativity by an insane amount. ānoā i said and ādieā but then i tried it and god. i wish it wasnāt this way. i wish it wasnāt true. i wish i could protect you all from this but itās real.Ā
something about this font is so disarming. something about this font lets you look past the shape of the words and into their soul. iāve never written so much as i did last night, on my phone, at 2am, in comic sans.
if you have writerās block. if you lack inspiration. if you need this. donāt be afraid to use it. sometimes the things we find most horrifying are also the things we need the most. trust me. let comic sans into your life.
itās true
update: this actually works. iām so angry.
my friend told me about this and I laughingly suggested it to my wife (who had a good number of essays to write and less than a week to write them). She finished 3 essays in 2 days using comic sans.
She was livid.
my fifth grade teacher made us write all our papers in comic sans š¤·š»āāļø
okay, Iām doing this in my google drive now
Just used this on an art paper and, with a heavy heart, can confirm. Got it done two days before the deadline. Just donāt do what I did and submit it still in comic sans, though.
The point is that Comic Sans is a dyslexia friendly font. Itās easier for everyone to read, and easier to read means easier to write with. It really is just a friendly font that gets bad press.
Couldn't decide which version I liked better, so here's both! Anyway this is Zuko from @generic-usernamee 's story, Let Sleeping Dragons Lie. Hope you like it!
You are an anonymous professional assassin with a perfect reputation. You lead an ordinary life outside of your work. Youāve just been hired to kill yourself.
My first thought is that the middle man I useācalls himselfĀ āLeaderā, real name Brett Thompson, 46, balding, lives in PAāhas uncovered my identity. Why else would I be staring down at a picture of my own face? I think itās a warning, that he knows about the Sanchez job, and I nearly reach for my go bag.
Then I see the clientās name.
Vi Larson, the file tells me, male, 32, computer analyst.
I close the manila folder, tossing it away from me. The whiskey sourās gone warm in my hand, but I drink it down anyway, eyes distant. I donāt need to read any more of the file. I can fill in the gaps well enough.
Funnily enough, this betrayal is just as sharp and unpleasant as the first one, the one that got me into this business in the first place.
āYou at least owe me a crime of passion, you bastard,ā I mutter into my drink. I close my eyes and sigh, willing away the stinging in my heart. I knew that my relationship was in trouble, but this is just cold.Ā
Ā In a way, I canāt believe it. Is a divorce really that hard? Ā But, no, I know Vi. Heās methodical, analytical, and competent. If anything, hiring an assassin with a reputation like mine is right in line with his personality. Nothing but the best, even in the murder game.
I should be flattered, really. My rates arenāt cheap. Whatever I did to make him send this ināand he did, thereās his social security, his fingerprint, everythingāit must have been killer.
I set my glass down on the counter and tuck the folder under my arm. I need to think and I do my best thinking in the tub. Vi wonāt be back from hisĀ ābusinessā trip for another three days, during which Iām supposed to kill myself.
As I head up the stairs, I canāt help but laugh. Finally, after three years of marriage, my husband does something interesting. And it breaks my fucking heart.
āāāāāāāāāāāāāā
He wants me to make it painless but horrific. Thereās a script in the document, something thatās more common than people think, and itās hard to read it, even surrounded by bubbles and soothing music.
āYour husband sent me. Said he needed to shed some dead weight.ā I snort at the pun and close my eyes, resting the file against my face so it doesnāt get wet. Unfortunately, the tears do that anyway.
āFuck,ā I say.Ā āYou bastard.ā
Keep reading
Wide eyed, you stared up at the figure braced above you, in flustered silence, their expression mirroring your own perfectly, right down to the blush quickly spreading across their cheeks. Though the fact that the pounding of your heart and the pain of your wounds from the events that had just taken place, made it all too clear that this was no dream or illusion, you still couldnāt quite seem to process it all properly, the truth feeling far too fanciful for your mind to fully accept.
Despite your understandable bewilderment over everything that had just happened, and the fact that you had just been saved by what should have been a fictional character, none of that compared to the shock and confusion you felt when the two of you finally managed to break free of your stupor and speak.
āI canāt believe youāre actually real.ā
āI canāt believe youāre actually real.ā
whatās your fanfic life like?Ā
Nemesis to lovers, bodyswap, rescue mission
Now THAT sounds like a fun fic! I might keep this
all the tips I found for drawing a fantasy map are like :) āhereās a strategy to draw the land masses! hereās how to plot islands!ā :) and thatās wonderful and I love them all but ??? how? do y'all decide where to put cities/mountains/forests/towns I have my map and my land but Iām throwing darts to decide where the Main Citadel where the Action Takes Place is
okay so i know i said most of this in the replies but it might be easier to actually reblog and say stuff instead lmao
Cities - go near water!Ā freshwater lakes and rivers (rivers especially) are the best places for cities because A) source of water and B) travel and trade is much easier cus you can put your boats like right there.Ā Basically ever relevant city ever was built on a lake or a river.
for rivers in general - because gravity, rivers run from mountains (forming from melting snow and ice (this is why they get fat in springāmore stuff melting)) to lakes/ocean where they can empty out (and even lakes will have rivers leading out that eventually get to the ocean), which can help when mapping out where those start and end.Ā rivers are also much thinner and faster in steeper elevations and very slow and wide when the land is flat
mountains - i like to think of what the tectonic plates look like because thatās what makes mountains!Ā mountains are also never standalone theyāre always in mountain ranges (archipelagos are really just underwater mountain ranges babey).Ā a cool trick I like to do is occasionally separate mountain ranges across continents, because over time the tectonic plates shifted and literally split the range in half.Ā These mountains are really old tho so theyāve eroded and therefore it makes them smaller and rounder (like the appalachians) as opposed to relatively young mountain ranges like the rocky mountains which have taller and sharper peaks
Another mountain trick: if your mountains run along the ocean, the ocean side of the mountains will get a LOT of rain while the other side will be very dryāalmost desert-like, in fact.Ā think of temperate rainforests in British Columbia vs the drier conditions in the canadian prairies
forests - depends on how warm the area might be.Ā coniferous forests are found further north (before you hit the tree line, and then itās only tundra onwards) but as you head south you get leafier trees, and the leaves tend to get larger too
If you think about general elevation too, youāll have places that might be swampy (wet + lower).Ā if your world has an ice age like we did, then glaciers may have carved the land, leaving piles of soil in the south that was left when the ice receded and places where the bedrock has been bared north of that (like the Canadian Shield in Canadaāthe reason we see that is because of the glaciers)
You might also have a land thatās dotted in a shitton of freshwater lakes as well because the meltwater filled the holes that the glaciers scraped out (this is why canada has so many goddamn lakes)
and if the ice age was more recent than it was in our world, then you might not even have the forest re-growth and it could be a lot of open plains
tl;dr i like to think of major climate events that might have also shaped the land on top of some basic rules
The Artifexian has an entire series on building your world from literally the stars down and then the ground up.
All my worldbuilding videos
Though, for fantasy, you can make the world operate on entirely different principles:
With that done, the actual topic of city placement can be covered by videos like this:
Or
Once you have your places, if you want help naming them in realistic ways, this video can help:
This one is on architecture, which is definitely a subset of cities:
But for a more relevant practical guide on making settlements realistic:
Hereās a quick guide for making demographics:
holy shit?
Writing x Characters When You Arenāt x, A Masterlist
x: a variable used to represent something unknown.
Weāve seen an influx of questions about how to write stories based around characters of color, disability, non-binary, etc. when the author does not fall into these categories. Rather than have these posts take over the site, weāve decided to compile a list of resources to help our fellow writers become more educated about writing what they do not immediately know. However, this list is not the end-all-be-all of knowledge; one should always try to learn from someone with first hand experience in any topic. The world is constantly growing and changing, and because of that, there will always be more to learn. The admins at Plotline Hotline want to help writers form respectful, informed, and realistic characters that broaden the narrow range we see in literature today.Ā
*Be wary that some of the topics listed below contain sensitive material. Reader discretion is advised.*Ā
As always, the links I found to be especially apt will be in bold. Topics are listed alphabetically, excepting theĀ āotherā section.
Culture
Appropriate Cultural Appropriation
What is Cultural Appropriation? [1,2,3]
Cultural Appropriation Is, In Fact, Indefensible
Voice Appropriation & Writing About Other Cultures
Diversity, Appropriation, and Writing the Other [List]
Disability
Writing Disibilities [1,2,3,4,5]
Guides to Writing Deaf or Hard of Hearding People
National Association of the Deaf - Resources [List]
World Federation of the Deaf
Using a Prosthetic Device
Prostehtic Limbs (Character Guide)
How NOT to Write Disabled Characters
A Guide to Disibility Rights Law (United States)
Timeline of Disibility Rights in the United States
Social Security Disability: List of Impairments, Medical Conditions, and ProblemsĀ [List] (United States)
How to Write Disabled Characters: An Opinion Piece
Artificial Eye Resources [List][Various]
Adapting to the Loss of an Eye
Misconceptions and Myths About Blindness
Blind Characters: A Process of Awareness
Writing Blind CharactersĀ [List]
Types of Learning Disabilities [List]
Diversity
A Guide to Spotting and Growing Past Stereotypes
How to Prepare to Write a Diverse Book
The Diversity of Writing
Why Diversity Matters for Everyone
Writing a Driverse Book [1,2,3,4,5]
Diversity, Political Correctness and The Power of Language
Diversity Book List [List][Books]
Basic Tips To Write Subcultures & Minority Religions BetterĀ
Basic Tips to Avoid Tokenism
Gender
GLAAD Media Reference Guide - Transgender
Creating Well-Written Trans Characters
A Few Things Writers Need To Know About Sexuality & Gender Expression
Trans (Character Guide & Bio Building)
A Non-Binary Personās Guide to Invented Pronouns
Gender Neutral Writing [List]
Keeping a Trans* Person a Person Ā
Suggestions for Reducing Gendered Terms in Language [Photo]
How to Review a Trans Book as a Cis Person
Writing Characters of Different Genders [List]
Understanding Gender
Gender Spectrum Resources [List]
Gender History
IllnessĀ
Writing Chronic Illness [1,2]
The Spoon TheoryĀ - Also pertains to disibility
About HIV/AIDS
Sexually Transmitted Diseases [List]
Sexually Transmitted Infections
Sex and Gender Differences in Health [Study]
All Chronic Illness Topics [List]
Coping with Chronic Illness
All Cancer Types
A Day in the Life of a Home Health Aide/Health Coach
Fiction Books With Chronically Ill Main Characters- Not Cancer [List][Books]
Neurotype (Including Mental Health)
Writing an Autistic Character When You Donāt Have Autism
Depression Resources [List]
What to Consider When Writing Mental Illness
Stanford Psychiatric Patient Care
Inpatient Psychiatric Questions and Tips
Donāt Call Me Crazy [Documentary]
(Avoid) Romanticizing Mental Illness [1,2]
A Day in the Life of a Mental Hospital Patient
State-run vs. Private Mental Hospitals
Mental Disorders
Mental Hospital Non-Fiction [List][Books]
National Institute of Mental Health - Mental Health Information [List]
Writing Autistic
What Causes PTSD?
Remember, Remember: The Basics of Writing Amnesia
ADHD Basic Information
What is a Learning Disability?
What is Neurotypical?
Race
Writing Race: A Checklist for Authors
Transracial Writing for the Sincere
Is my characterĀ āblack enoughā
White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack
Challenge, Counter, Controvert: Subverting Expectations
Writing With Color: Blogs - Recs - ResourcesĀ [List]
Writing People of Color (If you happen to be a person of another color)
7 Offensive Mistakes Well-Intentioned Writers Make
Description Guide - Words for Skin Tone
Religion
Religion in Novels: Terrific or Taboo?
How to Write a Fantasy Novel that Sells: The Religion
Writing About Faith And Religion
From Aladdin to Homeland: How Hollywood Can Reinforce Racial and Religious StereotypesĀ
Sexuality
Understanding Sexual Orientation and Gender IdentityĀ [List]
Writing Gay Characters [1,2,3]
American Civil Liberties Union - LGBT+ Rights
LGBT+ Rights by Country or Territory
History of Gay Rights
Gay Rights Movement
LGBT+ Culture
Gay Myths and Stereotypes
LGBT+ Studies Web Sites [List]
LGBTQ Youth Issues
LGBTData.com
Overview of Gay and Lesbian Parenting, Adoption and Foster CareĀ (United States)
Other
How Doctorsā Officesāand Queer CultureāAre Failing Autistic LGBTQ People
Five Traps and Tips for Character Development
Developing Realistic Characters
I hope that this list will provide topics a writer may not initially think to research when writing. If there are any resources that you think would be fitting for this list, please let us know! We want to have as many helpful sources as possible to maximize learning opportunities.Ā
Stay educated,
xx Sarah
Some illustrations for my SAO fanfiction, Game Sync!
First picture is the cover, featuring Bloop the indigo slime.
Second picture is the characters, Kyou (top), Nanako (middle), and an exasperated Kirito (bottom).
Third picture is Bloop as he appears when meeting him (top left) and by the end of Aincrad (bottom right). He grows over time!
Fourth picture is Nanako as she appears in the mid-to-late-floors.
Fifth picture is Kyou as he appears in the mid-to-late floors.
Outifts are hard to design, y'all.
that time palpatine screwed up (and the galaxy was a better place for it)
Look. I know this idea is shit. I tried to give the idea away. Instead whenever Iām still for more than 30 seconds I start thinking about it. So here.
In another world, when Sheev hears the rumor of a strange pre-Jedi artifact, he doesnāt go to collect it himself. He sends someone who never returns and then decides to handle it later after his Empire plans reach fruition. In thisĀ world, however, he goes himself.Ā
He finds the artifact on a dangerous world just beyond the reach of the Republic. The artifact activates upon touch.
The world grows large and scary around him.
A day or so passes without contact. Heād left his crew behind, not wanting to share what he was doing. One of them contacts the Senate for help. The 501st is closest.
(That was by design once. Another chance to connect with Anakin and pull him further into Darkness).
Anakin and his men search the planet. They do not find Palpatine. Anakin doesĀ find a Force-sensitive child whose eyes turn yellow when he cries.
A toddler is using the Dark side. He canāt kill a toddler. He isnāt sure he can give the child to the Jedi either, not if he is accessing the Dark side.
āWhatās your name?ā /Ā āZeeā /Ā āZee?ā /Ā āNO! Zheeeeeeevuh.ā /Ā āZhiva?ā /Ā āNo!ā /Ā āOkay, Little Z, why donāt we try again after youāve had a nap?ā
Zee ends up sticking as the name everyone uses though as anything else leads to frustration and occasionally tears.
(Sheev knows he isnāt supposed to be 2 or 3 years old. He knows he has big plans. When he dreams, he remembers being big. But when he wakes, the memories waft away. Heās smarter than a toddler should be, but his brain cannot contain his adult mind so it all remains just out of reach. Thatās more important than a name.)
Anakin and the 501st continue looking, but Palpatine is nowhere. Heās called back to Coruscant to report and join planning for what to do next. General consensus is that heās been abducted by Separtists.
The Senate has not yet released that the Chancellor is missing.
Anakin contacts Padme about Zee and explains.Ā āI canāt give him to the Jedi, not if heās using the Dark side, but I canāt just leave him untrained and Iām notĀ giving him to Dooku, Maul, or Ventress. I canāt.ā
Padme has an absolutely terrible idea. She asks what the child looks like.Ā āBlue eyes. Red hair.ā Padme nods.Ā āItād have been better if he had brown hair, but if you wanted, we could say heās ours.ā āHow? And wonāt everyone know then?ā āI have body doubles. We could say weāve been hiding him. I know a doctor who would lie for me. But youāre rightāif we did this, everyone would know about our marriage. How important is it that you keep this child safe and away from the Jedi? How else could we justify having him? If we tried to pass him off as an ordinary orphan, heād have to go into the system.ā Anakin is silent for a long moment. Then he asks,Ā āWhat about the hair color? You said brown would be better.ā āNo one knows what your family looks like. Tell them your motherās hair was red.ā āObi-Wan knows it wasnāt.ā āThen we have to tell Obi-Wan.ā Anakin breaks.Ā āAngel, I canātāā āHow important is Zee?ā Padme asks quietly and Anakin sighs. He canāt leave this strange child alone in the world. āIāll try to meet with him before we reach Coruscant and explain.ā
He does.
Obi-Wan stares at Anakin and feels the pinch of a headache between his eyes.Ā āI honestly donāt know where to begin.ā /Ā āI shouldnāt have saidāā /Ā āNo, Iām glad you told me. I just need a moment. Youāre married?ā
āThis is a terrible plan,ā Obi-Wan says flatly as he watches Zee sleep. āPadme came up with it,ā Anakin argues. āThat doesnāt make it better. Iām just more disappointed.ā
Keep reading
This is my new favorite thing AND I BETTER SEE A FIC
Writer Beware makes posts on which publishing houses to avoid at all costs, which words to look for and which words to watch out for in contracts, and several other things that will keep you in control and knowledgeable about the publishing process.Ā Iād suggest reading through the website if you want to avoid getting ripped off, cheated, or scammed.
Iām just going to reblog this every so often because itās a site that every writer needs to see.
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.
It isnāt uncommon for this particular demon to be summonedāfrom exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forestsābut it has to admit, this is the first time itās 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 āHome Sweet Homeās hung across the wood-paneled walls.
Itās a mistakeāa wrong number, per se. No witch itās ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if theyād up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didnāt work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.
It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacentāthe kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It movesāfeels 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 wouldnāt 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.
āTodd! Todd, dear, I didnāt know you were visiting this year! You didnāt call, you didnāt writeābut, oh, Iām so happy youāre here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And donāt worry about the blood, hereāI had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didnāt go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and āedgyā stuff these days, so I donāt suppose you mind.ā She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isnāt mocking, itās 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. āImagine if it leaves a scar! Itād be a bit ābadass,ā as you teenagers say, wouldnāt it?ā
She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a āToddā 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. āBe a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? Iāll be back in a jiffy.ā
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 theyād swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns theyād 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 blessingāhappy accidents, as the humans would say.
Thatās why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. Thatās 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. Itās as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.
āIām surprised youāre so tall, Todd! I havenāt seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the timeāyou do love wearing all black, donāt you?ā 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. āI was starting to think youād never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, butā¦I am glad youāre here, dear. Would you like some cake?ā 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 doesnāt seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadnāt 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 āthank you,ā but it doesnāt suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.
āOh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfatherās was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? Itās alright, dear, Iāll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.ā
The demon merely nodsāsome communication can be understood without failāand drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. Itās ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.
āI hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write backābut I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just canāt wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little cafĆ© down the street we can go to. I havenāt been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before heā¦well.ā She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. āI canāt believe itās been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.ā 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. āI may as well give you your birthday present, since youāre here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. Iāll be right back.ā
When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms. Ā
āI found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought youād like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chillāI hope you do like it.ā With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demonās broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. āHappy birthday, Todd, dear.ā
Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, heās clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.
this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.
i had to
I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE
Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like āWhat is that thing, what the hell, Anette?ā and sheās like āDonāt you remember my grandson Todd?ā 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 sheās been since her husband died.
Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins
I just want to watchĀ āToddā 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. Ā Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, soĀ āToddā 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, butĀ āHoneyā likes her hard candies, and doesnāt get oil on the carpet, and whenĀ āToddā 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.Ā Anette never givesĀ āToddā her soul, but she gives him her heart
In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that sheās 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. Heās tried getting her to sell him her soul, but sheās just laughed, told him that he shouldnāt 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. Heās 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.Ā 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 Anetteās 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 Anetteās 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 itās 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.Ā Todd looks down, holding Anetteās soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word,Ā āPlease.ā The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Toddās 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 theyāre 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 itās 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 werenāt able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayorās 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 heās 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 Anetteās 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, itās Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that sheās 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 Toddās shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Toddās ear that heās 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, sheās 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 canāt stay, but she wonāt 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 sheās 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 sheās always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, sheās already talking about how much cake theyāll need to feed all of these relatives.Ā
P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.
the last lines of the show:
demon: youāre not blind here ā but youāre not surprised. whenā¦?
anette: oh, toddy, donāt be silly, my biological grandsonās not twelve feet tall and doesnāt scorch the furniture when he sneezes. iāve known for ages.
demon: then why?
anette: you wouldnāt have stayed if you werenāt lonely too.
demon: you⦠you donāt have to keep calling me your grandson.
anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and letās go bake a cake. honey, heel!
honey: W̽ĢĢæĶĶĢOĢĶ¦Ģ£Ģ®Ģ¹Ķ Ģ²ĢŖOĶĢøĢĶ̬FĢĶ«ĶĶĢĢ«ĶĢĶĶĢ
that addition is a+ :)
THE ONLY ENDING I WILL EVER ACCEPT FOR THIS
Every time this post shows up on my dash, it gets better (and more heart wrenching. Yāall! Stop cutting the onions okay?!).
Ok but I also want Todd to visit her at some point. His father disapproves a lot, but now that Todd is an adult (and still a goth) he can do whatever he wants. But he arrives there and sees a big hulking demon drinking tea in his grandmaās living room.
Heās livid since this demon is dangerous (he would know, he wanted to become a demonologist when he was a teen), and consequently spends his whole time there trying to figure out what is this demonās hidden motive. Thereās no way this creature is staying here for no reason. He finds no evidence of malice
In the end, Todd and āToddā reach a temporary truce. He still doesnāt trust āToddā and moves in next door with his boyfriend to keep an eye out for the demon. Frustratingly enough, his boyfriend is now besties with a demon and his grandma seems to think heās Jason from Minnesota.
Todd is an accountant
I know discourse is the word of choice in fandom nowadays but I kind of wish we would have stuck with āfandom wankā because it carries the implication that the anger involved culminated into effectively nothing and that the act was wholeheartedly masturbatory in nature rather than for any greater cause.
I saw this post about an hour after I saw a post that said, essentially, āThere should be a word for that thing where [exactly describes āsqueeingā].ā
I feel like the time has come to produce something like this:
citrusĀ
@vergess
Squee: The noise you make when something is so goodĀ that all you can really do is squeak or squeal. A high pitched sound of delight, often accomanied by hugging yourself or others.
Squick: A fic/art/concept/topic that is repellent to you, so you reject association with it and instead retreat to your personal comfortable spaces- all the while remembering that someone elseās comfort is not your own.
YKINMKATO: Also calledĀ ākink tomato.ā Abbreviation meaningĀ āyour kink is not my kink, and thatās okay.ā Used to explain why you are rejecting art or fic brought to you by someone else. A solid mantra to recall instead of sending flames in peopleās comments
Flames: The comment equivalent of anon hate.
AMV:Ā āanimated music videoā orĀ āanime music video.ā Often, this is stylized to fit a specific fandom, such as aĀ āPMVā (pony music video) in my little pony. May also be referred to as a lyricstuck.
Filk: Combination of the wordsĀ āfilmā andĀ āfolk,ā this is a music genre, to whichĀ āfan songsā andĀ āfan parody coversā belong. If you donāt really understand what this means, take a quick listen to American Pie, then compare Weird Al YankovicāsĀ Saga Begins
BNF: Big name fan. You know that one personĀ who is just so fuckign popularĀ in your fandom? Their art is always on your dash, everyone knows their fics? Being spoken to directly by them is basically being noticed by everyone everās senpai? Thatās what these people are called.
DL:DR;Ā Not unliked the teal deer (tl;dr, orĀ ātoo long, didnāt readā), DLDR meansĀ ādonāt like? Donāt read!ā Itās a reminder that you are under no obligation, ever, to expose yourself to uncomfortable (or, squicky), or potentially harmful (or, triggering), material. Not ever. If you donāt actively likeĀ something? Itās not worth your time. Skip it.
Gen: orĀ āgenficāĀ āgenartā etc. Fan works which contain no or very little romantic content. Often these are styled after the canon material, and may be calledĀ āepisodicā roĀ āslice of lifeā in addition.Ā
Lemon: Work containing strong pornographic elements
Lime, or Citrus: Work containing mild or implicit pornographic elements
Sockpuppeting: The surprisingly common scenario of someone making a bunch of fake accounts/sideblogs to send themselves reviews or hate, to try to increase views or drama surrounding a work. The accounts they make are called Sockpuppets.Ā
WAFF: Warm and fluffy feelings. A genre of fic that exists just to be therapeutically sweet. Nowadays, usually just calledĀ āfluffy.ā
Schmoop: Take WAFF and somehow make it even more syrupy. Youāll know it when you see it.
Whump: Imagine if you will, a hurt-comfort fic. The comfort might be considered WAFF. The hurt? Thatās the whump.
Wapanese: When white autors pepper their anime fanfic with random, tonally inappropriate japanese words.Ā
Anthropomorfic: Nowadays we just call theseĀ āhumanstuckā orĀ āhumanized AU.ā
Wank: Wildly disproportionate drama that crops up because someone wrote/drew/did something that someone else didnāt like. Seriously, I cannot begin to express the fiascos that have come about from all this. Just⦠Just go look at this.
Ā Plot bunny: Story ideas that you probably wonāt ever actually deal with, but that multiply entirely out of control, creating huge worlds in your head that youāre probably not going to write. But hey! You might! And until then they make great sideblogs/askblogs/tumblr posts.
Casefic: Fanfics that try to create an episode-like feel for procedural and crime dramas, moster of the week shows, etc.
Jossed: When popular fan theories and fanon are addressed in the canon of a series, and whoops, turns out we were all very, very wrong.
Kripked: When popular fan theories and fanon are addressed in the canon of a show and,Ā hot damn, we fucking called it.
Secret Masters: The people who run the websites/ communities/etc that we all do our fanning on. Less relevant now that we have things like tumblr, but when everyone had to run their own archival and social sites for each fandom, it was more important to pay our respects to the strange and powerful beings that brought us all together and gave us our fannish homes. Think the staff of AO3, for example.
Bashing: When a writer purposefully writes a specific character as a horrible, horrible person so that they can throw them out of the storyline, usually to allow their OTP to get together without trouble. Distinct from fridging in that it doesnāt require the character to die, but rather to be such a screaming harpy that they get rightfully removed from the main charactersā lives for being an abusive hell beast. Generally, a type of character hate. Be wary of people who bash women, queer people, and POC with consistency: they are not safe to be around.
āSquickā also has an alternate horrible meaning for Harry Potter fans who were in fandom a while back. Dear god.
Drabble: A fic that is EXACTLY 100 words. Often used as a creative exercise in telling a story in a very small constraint.
Ficlet: Fic that clocks in somewhere between 100 to 2.5K words.
Crossover: A piece of media in which two or more source materials are treated as the same universe. Characters from Fandom A can meet characters from Fandom B. (The Doctor Goes To Hogwarts And Meet Harry Potter!)
Fusion: A fusion takes the characters of one source material and *surplants* them into another universe entirely. Characters from Fandom A cannot meet characters from Fandom B. (Dave Strider is part of an Inception team!)
TPTB: The Powers That Be. Almost always redundantly referred to as āthe TPTB.ā A collective term for showrunners, actors, producers, writers, et al, anyone who is part of the team that creates the source material.
YMMV: Your Mileage May Vary. A shorthand way of saying āthis is how I see it/have experienced it though I realize others might have a different perspective.ā
Tinhatting: Often used in RPF fandoms, the situation where some fans are convinced two celebrities are in a relationship but its being kept a secret.
Iāmā¦Iām home
Useful beyond all reason. Iāve learnt so much!!
@misst99 you might find these useful in navigating fan fic
I am a(n):
āŖ Male
āŖ Female
š Writer
Looking for
āŖ Boyfriend
āŖ Girlfriend
š An incredibly specific word that I can't remember
*wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat*
WAIT ITāS CALLED A THROW PILLOW
here is a super helpful website for this kinda thing!
the first result isnāt always the one youāre looking for but when you press enter itāll give you a ton of words related to your query thatāll probably have what youāre wanting, or something better
hereās some examples:
Reblog to save a writer's sanity.
@bixbiboom
@quoth-the-sparrow
This is a helpful resource