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reds-skull · 5 months

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Not Alive, Nor Dead

[NEXT PART]

Okay I'm trying to be brave and post this before I chicken out, first time writing a fic, and I'm not sure if this is any good.

So, since I don't have time to draw out all of the revenant au story, but I still want to share it, I'm writing it instead.

Will continue this if people are interested!

[this isn't requiered but reading the comic might help you understand this better]

[also there's a Soap pov version of this by Badolmen, it doesn't line up 100% because we didn't work together but it's very very good and you should read it regardless]

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking, Ghost.”

He shifted in his place. Can never get used to Price’s voice in his head.

“You know I work best alone. All he’s gonna do is get in the way.”

Price’s mustache twitched, as if he’s fighting a smile. Bastard is about to drop something to win the entire argument, Ghost already knows.

“He’s a revenant. Strong one too.”

Fucking figures. Still, he could argue he doesn’t need any support-

“Intel is rigged with explosives. And the Sergeant just so happens to be explosion-proof.”

…Fuck.

Ghost sighs heavily like he was presented with an unreasonable amount of shit to deal with. He watches as Price sits there, shit eating grin spitting at him. He looks back to the folder, at the details of this already annoying mission, “you said there are 2 buildings?”

Price snaps from his self boasting to confirm “one suspected barracks and the other an abandoned warehouse. Warehouse contains the majority of explosives.”

Finally finding something to work with, Ghost straightens his back to his usual self-assured posture, “the Sergeant can deal with the warehouse, I’ll clear the barracks. No need to work together.”

Price seems less happy about that. Serves him right. He sighs and drags a hand over his face, and Ghost almost feels bad for ruining his plan to get him to play with a team. Almost.

“Will it kill you to try and work with the lad?” Price asks offhandedly, while organising the folder back to the never-ending pile of documents on his desk.

“You mean again?” Ghost would wear his own shit eating grin if his face wasn’t permanently covered.

Price still seems equally pissed. Probably saw it in his literal mind’s eye. “Get out of my office Lieutenant, wheels up at 0500.” He gets up and walks around his desk to face Ghost, “don’t scare the kid off alright? I have a feeling you two could mash well together.”

Ghost tilts his head and projects the most doubt he could muster at Price. “Yes sir.”

This is going to be a bloody long day.

It’s not that Ghost hates people per se, it’s just that most of them seem hell-bent on being annoying, disruptive, or boring. Useless on the field for someone of his caliber, and even more useless off-field.

He knows he’s not exactly easy to relate to, but he couldn’t care less about trying to be. He’s here for one purpose. And it’s not “making friends” or whatever Price and Gaz has been trying to push him towards.

He wonders which category the Sergeant currently standing in front of him will fall into. By his fidgeting nature and easy smile, Ghost would put his money on “annoying”.

The Sergeant, “Soap” apparently (Ghost wonders if that callsign was given to him before or after he died a probably painful death), now directs that smile at him, seemingly undeterred by the giant man wearing a skull like a stereotypical grim reaper. He has to give it to the lad, at least he hides his discomfort well.

“You must be Ghost, eh? Let’s get ourselves a win LT” The Sergeant says with an obvious Scottish accent, fist-bumps his shoulder and walks off towards transport.

Oh, annoying is definitely winning.

Despite that, Ghost can’t feel like Soap really fits it. He’s unlike the other muppets in the category, He’s not poking him like the rookies do, trying to make him reveal his powers.

No, the Sergeant is annoying like an overly friendly dog is to someone that doesn’t want to be licked. He’s acting like they’re just two normal soldiers on their way to a normal mission, not the unnatural, unexplainable phenomena they actually are.

Ghost will have to keep watching. Certainly on field he will be able to find out his true colors.

On the helo, Ghost picks his usual spot near the ramp, where the lights don’t reach as much and most prefer not to sit, and observes Soap. His fidgety nature stayed the same, but the carefree expression he wore on ground morphed into a determined one, face stern and serious. He seemed lost in thought, eyebrows twitching here and there. He sees how his fingertips flicker, watching flames dance between them before the rapid movements put them out.

Well, at the very least Soap doesn’t fall into “boring”.

Clearing the barracks is a laughably easy job, even without using his powers. Although, it would’ve been so much faster with them… too bad he doesn’t hate the Sergeant enough to send him to Limbo.

They practically run through both buildings, untouchable storms. Ghost has to admit, Soap is clearly competent, disarming bombs and taking down hostiles at an impressive rate.

God, he hates when Price is right.

“Ground floor clear, heading to the basement” Soap relays on comms.

“Copy, clearing third floor, keep an eye out for Intel.”

“I have to say LT, you’re not quite like I expected.”

Feeling’s mutual, Ghost thinks to himself. “That so?”

“Aye, you’re not a major cunt for starters.”

That startled a small huff out of him. What the hell do the rumors say about him? He would have to ask Gaz about that, “Could still change that Sergeant.” he mock-lectures him.

A small laugh is what he gets in return, “I doubt that. I’ve worked with some bastards before, you barely make top 50.”

“Only 50? I hoped for at least 20”

“Got work cut out for you then, sir”

“That I do.”

Ghost continues clearing the floor methodically before faltering for a moment. Why was he entertaining the Sergeant like that? Since when does he joke with people?

Though, he would’ve done it more if he had someone so ready to joke back…

Useless thoughts.

Cursing Price, Soap, and all other stupid distracting things swirling in his head, Ghost takes down another hostile.

The mission is going without a hitch. Which is usually when something “hitches”.

A couple of minutes after Soap’s last words, Ghost sees a bright light flash from the warehouse, before a soundwave shakes the windows of the now barren barracks.

One of the explosives went off… “Soap, what the hell happened there?”

No answer.

Ghost knows he’s fine. Price wouldn’t brag about how “explosion-proof” he is otherwise. But he’s not answering…

“Sergeant, give me sitrep, now.”

Ghost stands still for another minute, listening to static. He checked the last room right before the explosion went off, so he just has to go to exfil and wait for the Sergeant at this point. His part of the work is done.

He should just go to exfil.

Ghost climbs down the stairs and heads for the warehouse, a foreboding plume of dark smoke billowing from its roof.

If asked why he didn’t ignore his gut feeling and use his brain like always, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Maybe he just wanted to exchange one more joke with the Sergeant before they finish the mission and never see each other again.

Arriving at the doors, he sees how the ground floor caved in, creating a ramp down to the basement. He starts making his way down, when he sees bodies littering the debris. Was Soap ambushed?

“Soap? Where the fuck are you Sergeant!” Ghost shouts. He has half a mind to be quiet, not wanting to attract enemies to their location, before realizing no one would’ve survived this. No one but-

“LT…?”

“Soap, why weren’t you answering comms- what…”

He stumbles upon Soap. Soap, who's laying on the grey concrete floor, wheezing and shaking, a metal rebar in his hands. Ghost walks closer and realizes the rebar is going through his stomach and pinning him to the floor.

The Sergeant’s eyes blearily look at the metal “I need, I n-need to get this out…”

He lifts himself half an inch and Ghost sees how the blood rushes out of the wound, how Soap pales.

Ghost rushes to his side. “Stop fucking moving”, he slides his hands under his torso, feels his gloves getting soaked in blood, “let me help you”.

Soap’s breathing becomes less harsh, and he looks up at him, “you… you don’t have to-”

He slowly lifts Soap before he can say another useless remark. The muscles under his fingertips clench and the Sergeant chokes out a scream.

“Fuck” Soap mutters between pants.

“We’re halfway there, you’re doing good.” Ghost lets him rest before continuing to lift his body up. The blood keeps rushing out of the wound, enough that he doesn’t understand how Soap is still conscious. The sergeant let go of the rebar, and is now gripping Ghost’s forearms like he’s about to fall to his death.

After a few seconds, which Ghost is sure felt like hours for Soap, he eases him off the metal and onto the ground. Soap immediately collapses, shuddering and holding his hands around the wound.

Ghost then realizes he’s not sure how the Sergeant’s powers work. Is this supposed to even happen? Is he actually dying?

Soap looks up at that moment, giving him a small smile that looks more like a grimace, “I just… give me a minute to heal, I’ll be ready to go soon.” he uncurls and drags himself to sit against a piece of wall.

Ghost frowns and slowly steps towards Soap and slides to sit next to him, “take however long you need.”

He doesn’t look, but from his peripheral, he sees Soap’s head whipping around and staring at Ghost like he told him he’s giving him a million pounds.

He seemed to find something in his expression (however much he could even see of it), and looked down at his bloodied hands, “thank ye…”

Ghost blinks down, “I hope this doesn’t lower my cunt rank.”

Soap lets out a small laugh that turns into a fit of coughs. More blood rushes out of his wounds, and Ghost internally winces.

“Ha… I think it takes ye off the list, mate.”

Ghost heaves an over-the-top sigh, “shame”.

Soap smiles at him, and Ghost notices it’s different from the one he gave him before the helo. This one is… warmer. Or at least it makes him feel so.

Soap lifts his shirt to inspect the wound, and Ghost can’t help by take a look. The wound stopped bleeding, and when Soap wipes some of it away, he can see how it’s already closing.

So he does get hurt… it just heals. Ghost still wonders how it all works, but he knows their powers work with bizarre rules, weird exceptions and what not. He can almost hear his Reaper laughing. Or whatever you would call that chilling noise it lets out when it finds something funny.

It doesn’t matter either way. Not like he’ll get to work with Soap again.

The Sergeant exhales and lets his shirt drop, “a’right, let’s fuckin’ finish this.�� he slowly starts lifting himself up before Ghost wordlessly grabs his arms and helps him.

Soap mumbles a thanks, “did you find any intel?”

Ghost looks ahead. The climb out of the basement won’t be easy on his wound… “Negative. We’ll keep looking.”

Eventually they reach a door labelled “storage”, that is blocked by several tonnes of concrete and metal. Ghost internally curses.

Soap, who’s been trailing behind Ghost, reaches the door and looks around. Ghost is about to ask him if he’s got a few C4’s hidden somewhere when the Sergeant asks him, “permission to use my powers, sir?”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “what are you planning?”

“Gonna blow it up sir” Soap says like it was obvious.

“...go ahead.” Ghost replies, half baffled Price forgot to mention the Sergeant, besides being unkillable by explosions, can also create them.

Was probably in the folder he didn’t bother reading.

He takes a step back to let Soap Have a go. The Sergeant rests his palms on the debris, inhales, and…

A loud boom makes Ghost’s ears ring. He’s momentarily blinded by the bright explosion before he regains his vision, and sees Soap stepping around the remains of the door into the small room.

Ghost shakes away his slight shock and joins him. Soap’s powers intrigue him… he wonders what else he could do.

Somehow, the intel survived the explosions. Ghost could barely care. At least they won’t have Price on their case later on.

As they walk towards the exfil point, a heavy feeling sinks within Ghost. He’s not sure what to call it, but if he had to it would be “regret”.

Regretting what, he’s not sure. Maybe he should’ve prolonged their walk.

And from a glance at his face, Soap might understand this feeling as well.

“You did well Sergeant.” He has the sudden urge to say. Maybe it will make him regret less.

Soap casts a smile at him. It doesn’t warm him in the slightest.

The chopper blades slashing through air never made him feel worse.

“I guess this is it then.” Soap says when they land.

Ghost turned to face him. That heavy feeling in him just kept getting heavier throughout the flight. Why?

“So it seems.”

Soap stares for a moment longer before sighing. Ghost wants to do something about the annoyingly heavy air of despair around them.

“Soap” the Sergeant hums, “Why did the Scotsman’s prank fail?”.

Confusion takes over his features, “what?”

Ghost inhales, “because no one let him get away scot-free.”

Soap stares at him like he brought shame to his entire bloodline. Ghost grins like he did.

“Steamin’ Jesus LT, that was horrendous.”

“Ah Sergeant, just admit my jokes are better, no need to be a sore loser.”

“My gran got better jokes than this, fuckin’ hell” Soap laughs.

“I’d like to meet her.”

“So you two could battle? I rather not see you die of embarrassment sir.”

Soap’s transport decides to arrive at this moment, chasing away the small joy they both found.

Soap looks back at it and turns to Ghost.

“It’s been great working with you sir.” if Ghost was feeling bold, he would say Soap almost looks sad, “I hope we’ll get to go another round later.”

Ghost hates the hopeful tone in his voice. Hope is uncertain, leaves everything up to chance.

Useless.

“Likewise, Sergeant.”

He stays standing there for a few minutes, staring at the truck vanishing towards the horizon. As if it will lighten the boulder in his chest.

“So, Simon, what’s your verdict?” Price finishes after debrief.

Ghost thinks about the entire endeavour. Not annoying, not disruptive, or boring.

Soap is…

“He’s something else…”

Critiques are welcome! Nobody beta'd this so I'm sure there are mistakes lol (that and this isn't my first language...)

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apostaterevolutionary · 7 months

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Ngl I get super annoyed if someone makes a post unrebloggable not because it got horribly misinterpreted or because it was a personal thing that wasn’t supposed to spread or because it got hateful assholes on it, but solely because it got popular, especially if it’s still under 10k notes. Unreadable notifications is the price you pay for fame. A good portion of us have gone through it, have had a post randomly get 50k or 100k and suffered the consequences. It’s just the tumblr ecosystem. By making it unrebloggable, you have interfered with the natural balance of the tumblring and tbh you are a coward. Accept the price of fame like the rest of us or just delete the original post as god (or rather david karp) intended

#just feels like ruining the fun you know #if everyone on this website did that think of how many famous and iconic posts would be out of circulation forever #usually block these people because you are weak and will not survive the winter lmao #idk it just bugs me like. ohhhh nooo you got scared of notifications ooog #just fucking delete the original post like god intended and let everyone else have fun #is this like a completely minor thing not worth being annoyed about #yes absolutely lmao #am I (a person who has had a post breach 100k notes and just dealt with it) still annoyed #also yes lmao #text #misc #shut up nerd

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daddyplasmius · 7 months

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hand on my stupid heart flashbacks

this is a No One Knows AU & Full Hazmat AU where Danny ended up in the Ghost Zone & didn't go back into the human world initially because he thought he was dead. by the time he realized he is, in fact, at least half alive, he'd already been missing for at least 2 weeks. will probs never finish homsh sorry. i wrote this a couple years ago in a haze & just haven't been able to finish it because i can't replicate the style, which i find is what i love about this fic the most. it wouldn't be the same without it. posting the flashback introsーwhich are meant to be read between chapters/the actual plot, starting after chapter 1ーcuz fuck it. excuse typos & shit, i never properly edited it, as i forgot it existed immediately after i wrote it original description of homsh: Danny Fenton has officially been missing for over a year. Maddie & Jack Fenton refuse to give up on their son. Sick and tired of the police running them in circles, and the case getting colder by the day, the Fentons turn to their last resortーPhantom. 800~ words (full unfinished fic is 20k~)

When Danny woke up surrounded by thick, green fog, and couldn’t breathe without swallowing heavy air that was more like water than anything, he was sure he was dead. The portal glowed behind him, illuminating the pitch darkness around him in soft, yellow, warm light.

He almost went back.

Almost.

He was dead. His parents were ghost hunters. They had drilled into his head from the moment he was born that he could never, ever panic in death. That he would accept it. That he would not be scared. So he would be prepared to be brave in the face of death and would not become a ghost.

He panicked. He did not accept it. He was terrified. And so he woke up in the Ghost Zone.

Danny went back through the portal when he saw some ectopuses acting… strange. Like they had an idea in their heads. Like they had a plan.

Which was weird, with animal ghosts. He had only been in the Ghost Zoneーmom and dad called it that, he rememberedーfor a couple weeks. Or, he had already been there for two weeks. Or maybe time worked differently and he was there five minutes, or four years orー

The ectopuses went through the portal and, despite everything, Danny went after them.

While he was busy reeling at being home, the ectopuses immediately attacked dad. Danny was horrified. Jack was overwhelmed. Danny stepped in, in a moment fueled by sheer adrenaline and stupidity, snatching a Fenton Thermos™ off a shelf and releasing his shaky invisibility. The ectopuses didn’t stand a chance. And when they were safely in the Thermos, he slowly turned around to dad, ready for the confrontation. Ready for the “what happened to you?” and the “where have you been?” and the “we’ve missed you”.

Dad scrambled to shoot at him.

Danny fled.

His parents didn’t recognize him.

The Lunch Lady attacked when Danny was mourning Halloween.

He’d waited all year. He made a costume that summer. He wouldn’t get to go trick or treating with Sam and Tucker this year. Or any year. For the rest of his lifeーor existence. Whatever.

The Lunch Lady appeared in the school and demanded in straight fury, “Who changed the menu?”

Everyone pointed at Sam.

Danny hadn’t known just how powerful ghosts could be. His parents never told him the specifics. Just that they were dangerous.

This ghost grew and her aura hit him like a hurricane, almost physically pushing him back. It was so strong that the students in the Casper High cafeteria seemed to feel it too.

The Lunch Lady was a much harder opponent than the ectopuses. She levitated meat. She used it as a weapon, and seemed to bring it back to life. She created weird meat creatures that grew sharp teeth and claws out of bones. They were mindless, attacking everything that got too close to the ghost. Danny would have run away without hesitation, if Sam hadn’t been in the crossfire.

Danny fought the Lunch Lady. It was a long struggle, but he caught her in the thermos after over an hour. When he turned to Sam and Tuckerーboth of whom he had to save due to Tucker trying to jump into the fightーall three of them bloody and bruised, he cringed. But a part of him hoped. Desperately.

Surely they would know him on sight.

“Wh-what are you?” Sam gasped at him finally.

Danny flinched as if she had struck him. “J-just… your friendly neighbourhood phantom.”

Danny didn’t know what possessed him. Oh. Pun not intended.

He just barely caught the Fentons leaving in the GAV, dragging suitcases behind them. He couldn’t help himself. What on Earth were they doing?

They were going to Vlad Master’s mansion for their college reunion.

It was a whole thing. But something was off. Besides all the adults reminiscing about the 80’s.

Danny sensed ghosts immediately but he couldn’t see anything. Unfortunately for him, Vlad could also sense him. It was two days of Danny staying invisible, and Vladーthe halfa? Is that what Danny is?ーtrying to kill Jack. Somehow, Danny managed to fight off Vlad, not turn back, and without the Fentons getting hurt. His secret intact.

VladーPlasmius, also learned about Phantom. And Vlad hated him. The manーghostーwhatever, seemed to only care about one thingーpossession. Of money. Of things. Of people. He was more ghost than Danny had ever seen. Vlad’s obsession was overwhelming.

Danny couldn’t believe someone so much like himself could be so disturbing.

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny phantom fanfiction #you know that gif of the wailing emoji dissolving? :Why:?#yeah that's what i do every time i remember i never finished HOMSH while i still had the style in my brain #feel free to steal this idea. please steal this idea. please write it i wanna see this idea so bad but im already writing another 100k+ fic #if y'all want me to post the full fic i can but. it is not finished & most likely never will be. sorry again #i won't lie. the haze i was in was a depressed one. i was. not in a good place At All when i wrote HOMSH #like the only part i remember actually writing was the panic attack scene & that's just barely #i reread the whole fic in the middle of the night months later while listening to Implode Alright by Built by Snow on repeat #yeah i cried. this one is funny but mostly it's just. mourning. grief. the works. it's a vent fic & also a. kind of. wishful fic #like. don't you just wish death wasn't so permanent. don't you wish you could tell them everything you wish you could #don't you wish you could just see them again #i'm actually writing this into a bigger ventier series currently called Let Grief Do Its Work #cuz i rewatched LUCIDS again recently & remembered what HOMSH was originally about. why i was writing it #i'm not calling it HOMSH cuz. HOMSHie is my baby. it's its own thing & i don't wanna ruin the vibes #reluctantly admitting i call an unfinished fanfic i don't remember writing... HOMSHie baby... in my head #yeah i have a cute nickname for my fic. what of it #it's 5am & i think i'll throw up if i think any more about posting unfinished unedited pieces of a fic so i'm going for it. cowabunga #go into the world. get your 2 notes you beautiful animal #*passes out*

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reinerist · 9 months

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i don’t think ill be making any more gifs once my queue and drafts get empty which i doubt will happen anytime soon lmao it’s honestly been really stressful and mentally draining to try and keep up w all these shows only for almost every single one of my edits to only get 50-100 likes

#mytxt #personal #i know my gifs aren’t anything special and people aren’t obligated to reblog or even like them if they don’t want to #but it kinda sucks bc of all the time and effort i put into it #and with almost 20k followers too #the ratio makes me feel like my stuff is the problem esp when i see someone repost a gif and get 20 to 100k notes when the blog has existed #for like a few days #god i miss the old tumblr #back when people would actually interact w each other and support each other #anyway vent over #also i have like 1k posts saved up so it’s not like i’m leaving right away

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arts-i-enjoy · 2 months

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AHHHHHH

#this post brought to you by: me #i. applied for a preapproval letter for a mortgage yesterday. and spoke to a realtor to start finding me houses #i want to move several states away which further complicated things. but the houses there are CHEAP #like under 100k for a 2 bedroom move in ready #anyways i got approved for 80k with a 20k down payment. and im FREAKING THE FUCK OUT #and because i got that pre app letter i have a loan officer calling me today to talk #and we literally work at the same bank so i can SEE that hes active and hasnt read my message #even though its been 45 minutes. KEVIN MESSAGE ME BACK. IM NOT GONNA BE ABLE TO FOCUS UNTIL I DO THIS CALL #AHHHHHHH S C R E A M. it might happening!!!! i might be finally.mov8ng out in a few months!!!#i mgiht be a HOMEOWNER by the end of the year #i have been saving money for this since i was. 16? 17?#ive had a good well paying job since i was 18.#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #once i have a house then i start job searching in that area. and start getting really serious about LEAVING my very good job #which is soooo scary. this job was supposed to be my lifelong career. but then everyone fucking moved to other states and left me behind #so theres no point staying here.#i might never have this kind of job security again.#but also my realtor said that theres a lot of bank jobs in that area so maybe itll be easy to find something #on the fence on if i tell my parents that im Making Moves right now #on one hand its hard to not talk about it becuae im STRESSED TF OUT #but on the other hand when i tentatively mentioned the state i want to move to #richard started yelling and swearing el oh el #might be better to wait and avoid the tension as long as possible?#but also i dont know how they can stay angry when its literally my best option #the other places where my friends live either have 0 opportunity and high housing prices. or are even moe liberal than where im going #idk. why do half of my problems come down to “my parents will be mad” like im a 12 year old or something. shit fucking sucks #this is why i want to get out of here #also it feels weird and bad to talk to my friends about how stressed i am about buying a house when all of them are stressed about #not being able to make rent or something. my problems feel like a brag in a really odd and shitty way. but hey!#if this works out maybe ill start being stressed about how im going to make my mortgage payments! :') yay!

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solradguy · 10 months

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It sucks there aren't more JP>EN translators in the GG community because it feels like I'm just pulling shit out of my ass half the time but no one's ever written me a strongly worded letter about how one of my translations is entirely wrong so it must be at least slightly convincing shit haha...

#textpost #I've been studying Japanese off and on for something like 6 years now and I still feel like an utter beginner at it ngl #The more popular my translations get the more this kinda weighs on me to be honest #There's a certain level of quality I feel obligated to maintain and if I make a mistake a LOT of people will see it now #It's not like when I first started doing these where maybe ~30 people max would see them #Some of these have had tens of thousands of views. My Twitter page's gotten 100k views in one day after posting a translation before 😬#I think I might take a short break from translating after I post GGCA 06+07 and focus on studying more before starting 08 #Chapter 08 is a really long one. It'll be easy to clean but there's a bunch of text in it #I still enjoy doing these and don't plan on stopping 100% btw. Can't stop when I haven't even gotten to the Denki Akiba chapter yet lol #But it wigs me out a little when I think too hard about all this haha #Need to become more reclusive.... Make it so you can only get my attention by hanging up bounty posters.... (JK JK JK JK)

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alagaisia · 9 months

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Okay so I never got around to replacing the not-very-good-anyway astronaut shaped cookie cutter that I melted in the dishwasher with a better and unmelted one. And my cookie-decorating skills are none. So tonight, in preparation for Lunar Landing Day tomorrow, I made moon (circle) shaped shortbread cookies with just a regular old smear of frosting on them. But! They are pretty tasty :)

I (more or less) used this recipe for apricot basil shortbread:

It’s pretty savory on its own, which isn’t a bad thing at all, just not what I was looking for. But luckily, I was already planning to also use this recipe for apricot cream cheese frosting:

I halved it and had pretty much exactly the right amount. (…I also barely followed this recipe because I had dried apricots, not apricot jam, and because I’ve made cream cheese frosting before, and it’s very easy. The important takeaway here is that half of a block of cream cheese is the amount of cream cheese to start with for this recipe in this instance)

#mine #cooking #baking #lunar landing day #I was very ambitious eight months ago when I imagined doing stuff for this #and it turns out having a job is not conducive to doing a lot of cool things for a holiday that falls on a Thursday #but tbh having like 100k people in the notes of that post ALSO wanting to celebrate the anniversary of the moon landing?#way better than anything I expected last November #I do feel like it’s a little anticlimactic as the OP for me not to actually be throwing a huge party like I thought I would #but also nobody is actually paying attention to me personally #and I’m most excited that other people are also excited :)#and actually maybe I’ll have some friends over this weekend. it can be a weekend-of-the-moon-landing get together #that would be fine!#there’s like. Labor Day weekend.#there can be lunar landing day weekend

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coldercreation · 6 months

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Hi, I'm new here and I really love your Let Me Try series. Can I ask who did you created first? And what made you create them thanks! If you don't mind me asking :) sorry if you answered this already!

Hello and welcome!!<3

Ohh I actually really had to think about this?? Either my memory is really bad or I genuinely just wasn't paying that much attention back when I started writing the first bits of LMT... Because I can't really remember where these specific lads came from? Obviously I didn't foresee how much time I'd be spending with this series in the future and how important these characters would become to me :')

It was supposed to be a quick thing to get me writing again, so everything kind of developed from there with time. I did do some character / background planning etc before I wrote anything, as that's just how I've always rolled with writing and creating characters.

I don't remember too much, mostly that I hadn't been writing in forever, like in years and years, and I really just wanted to get back to it. I do remember being super nervous about posting the first part!🙈 I genuinely thought no one would ever find it, considering it's original work and not a part of some big popular fandom that'd automatically have an audience. I remember thinking; okkk so I just wanna write something and maybe get some feedback on it, and although I'm not really a No-Plot filth/smut writer, filth is universal, so even if it's original work someone might come across it if I make it spicy... big brain moves loll

And then I lured a bunch of yous in with the filth just to punch you in the feels with the later parts of the series >:)

The first one to be created was Nathan though, that's for sure! But I don't remember why how where what etc. He just came to be, and then he was vibin' for a bit, and then I made him suffer a lil because... I dunno, I just felt cute like that 😭 xx

#Thank you lovely xx #I'm having a crisis of some sort #probably the existential sort ??#after realising the over 400K word count #and now realising that I posted the first part of the series in 2019 ???#2019-06-15 #4 years and 4 months ????#first of all #that's like 100K a year #I need to feel more accomplished than I do holy shit lmaoo #but secondly #4 years 😭😭😭#also I'm pretty sure?? I had never written anything spicy before this ??#really just came out unprovoked and all guns blazing 😭

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that-was-anticlimactic · 1 year

Link

fragments of the day

“You’ve got so many knots tonight, Kento,” Yu commented, and though Kento couldn’t see him, he was sure Yu was frowning. “You gotta tell me when it starts to get this bad, okay?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

I didn’t want to bother you.

“You’re my best friend, Kento. I’m always gonna worry about you,” Yu replied easily, pushing into his muscles even harder and damn, that felt amazing; Yu really was good at giving massages. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Kento sucked in a breath, then coughed, trying to play it off as a tic. How was Yu able to be so open with him? How was he able to share what’s in his heart? Hell, Kento can’t even say I love you. He has to rely on don't be stupid and be careful to get the message across.

Sometimes, he wished he were more like Yu.

So, Kento passed him another orange.

[or, nanami has bad shoulder pain and haibara makes it a little better]

⛅️12,868 words | nanami & haibara, nanami & gojo🌥

chapter one

chapter two

#corey writes:)#IT IS HERE!!!#this was originally supposed to be one chapter and then it got long and i felt like splitting it into two would make more sense plot wise tb #*tbh #also i started this in like. june lol i just got VERY stuck and have been stuck for awhile so like. SO excited that i'm getting unstuck haha #the second chapter will prolly be just as long oops but it's about halfway... MAYBE three quarters of the way done??? idk we'll see haha #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #nanami kento #jjk nanami #haibara yu #gojo satoru #nanami with tourette's #nanami & haibara #nanami fanfic #i'm have. feelings.#sorry for tagging so much lol i just. worked very hard on this and am pretty proud of it iouytfdxfcguiouyfdxfcghujiohftd #i hope to post the second chapter before the end of the year!#okay look. i'm SO CLOSE to having posted 100k words on ao3 this year and i really want to reach that haha #i feel like i haven't really gotten to write a lot this year so it's a goal of mine because i suck lol

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robynrileyart · 8 months

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girl help [my oc in my novel, which i am writing myself] just [did something that i love, fulfilling a trope i don't see enough of] and i can't believe it

#posts #writing is so much fun but it does feel silly when im sat there like #WAHHH I CNBBBB HECTOR JUST SAID THAT IM CRYINGGGG #but like. yeah. of COURSE he says or does that because HE'S MY OC whom i love #and if i didnt love him he wouldnt have a 100k novel to his name #ok to rb if you want idrc #i do however see ppl asking in tags if they can rb sometimes and at that point isnt it too late JSHDJSJDSDH

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boundinparchment · 8 months

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last I remember, I was at 2700-something words. I want multiple chapters done. Maybe maybe maybe…

#After all the first two chapters were posted when I first uploaded #and I so want to get myself over that 100k mark but that’s about 13k to get there and No™��#I feel like I’ll need to rewrite 46 if nothing else…feels passive again…

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starlooove · 9 months

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The way I don’t post about hobie is akin to gatekeeping

#I adore him you don’t understand #but if I see another post that’s like #‘guys!!! hobie was played off as a joke but he was serious and kind!!! that’s what punk is all about!!!’#I’m gonna lose it #nothing against it I actually agree #it’s just. so obvious #like it does not need to be paragraphs explaining that that’s literally the point #and again I don’t have issue with ppl who make the posts or whatver #but ppl being like ‘OMMMGGG?!’#in the replies is so #like idk how to explain it I feel like a majority of y’all are caught up in the most obvious aspects of his character so u don’t look deeper #but to you it IS deep bc those obvious aspects aren’t obvious to you #idk like I feel like it’s only other black punks that get him beyond what y’all keep saying #bc the things y’all are discovering is shit we’ve lived and known for years like me personally I’m over it I KNOW #it’s as if someone just turned mha on and was like ‘guys…Dabi is angry at Endeavor. endeavor is meant to represent toxic societal standards’#or someone made a 100k note post going #‘guys…Jason doesn’t HATE Bruce. he wants Bruce to love him in the way jason would love him’#like we know that’s the plot #and don’t get me wrong some of y’all are incompetent asf and need it spelled out #but it’s just. annoying to see.#anyways yeah I love hobie but I can’t stomach going into his tag and seeing shit that’s like. the main point being treated as some profound-#-discovery. this is prolly pretentious asf but I have the right to be I’ve been a strong hobie stan for 5 years mwah <3 #and when I said blk punks earlier I acrually wanna say punks of color #like me personally I’ve seen so many Latino and native punks GETTING it #it’s actually just white punks acting brand new hate to say it

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tariah23 · 3 months

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That TikTok of that ww groveling and going on about how she doesn’t care if you hate a book, give it 3 stars regardless because “writing is hard.”

https://x.com/cursedhive/status/1751012407814635526?s=46&t=cKo2jnMIiVKeu8vnu79EyQ

#booktok really is incredible #omg… this is not how any of this kind of stuff works #if your work sucks ppl are gonna let you know regardless #like do you want a cookie just because you reached the 100k word threshold on your booktok…..? and don’t say anything bad about it at all #because then otherwise you’re an asshole #?#omg #rambling #of course writing is hard… any form of art is hard but ppl giving you fake praise is not going to really benefit you in the long run as a #writer I feel #if it’s fanfic that you’re just posting for fun then whatver especially if it’s not bothering anyone but if you’re publishing your work to #the world for people to actually read it and for you to gain a profit off of then what do you mean that you think that readers should leave #a positive review even if they didn’t necessarily enjoy your work??? isn’t that strange… they can’t even critique your writing?#why even say such a thing as a writer…

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tackytigerfic · 1 year

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I posted 1,451 times in 2022

96 posts created (7%)

1,355 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sitp-recs

@ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm

@hdsudsfest

@the-starryknight

And myself lol because why not

I tagged 1,437 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#i queue - 556 posts

#drarry - 381 posts

#drarry fic rec - 245 posts

#drarry rec list - 129 posts

#drarry art - 120 posts

#to read - 119 posts

#amazing art - 115 posts

#drarry fic - 104 posts

#drarry squad - 84 posts

#wip snip - 79 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#first in a long line of morally ambiguous antiheroes who have to overcome their own cowardice to prove their moral worth

My Top Posts in 2022:

Howl

M ~ 8.9K ~ Werewolf Drarry

After an encounter with a vicious werewolf, Draco Malfoy wakes in a field hospital with a mangled shoulder, a furry little problem, and an inconvenient crush on Harry Potter. Potter, meanwhile, is still trying to save the world, only this time he wants Draco right there with him while he does it. Taking part in a rebellion against a corrupt regime isn't always glamorous, but at least sometimes there are organic farmshop pastries and fancy hotel bedsheets. Just don't ask about that smell of burning.

A gift for @cluelesspigeons as part of the @drarrymicrofic Wheel of Drarry exchange.

Celina, your gorgeous microfics always have such a sense of tenderness and longing. I wanted to bring some of that softness to this fic, which also includes some of your Drarry likes (werewolf Drarry, long-haired Draco, tattooed Draco - plus some long hair and tattoos for Harry too, because he deserves nice things). Thank you for all you contribute to this fandom, in the form of your lovely words and your fabulous modding skills.

@maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w i am so lucky to have both of your brilliant minds at my disposal and will never stop being grateful for that.

Mourning Moon

Draco woke up on a Friday morning in a field hospital in Grasmere, without a single memory of how he had got there. The last thing he remembered was being in London, not two streets away from his tiny bedsit, getting a very late takeaway dinner in the only burger joint still open at that time of the night. He was sheltering from the rain and unwrapping his bean burger—no tomatoes, extra gherkins—and had felt rather than seen something moving in the darker shadows beyond the mouth of the alleyway.

And that was all there was, nothing but a horrifying blank spot in his memory before waking up here on a rickety stretcher, feeling like he had been turned inside out. His shoulder was hurting badly, the pain maybe even worse than when he took the Mark, and he could tell from the thickness of the bandages that whatever had happened to him, it was bad. He could smell the protective webbing of healing charms packed around the wound, and could feel the dittany busily knitting away at the flesh.

“Another one?”

The Healer—who for all Draco knew wasn’t even a real Healer, just someone with an O in Potions who was handy with an Episkey—wasn’t even looking at his face as she spoke, just scribbling busily on a chart and then running a cold, assessing hand over Draco’s sternum. She raised her wand to his skin.

“Another what?” Draco asked rudely, just to make the Healer look at him properly.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Her voice was cool, the spark of her magic at his shoulder something like relief and something like an invasion. Behind Draco, there was a small shifting sound, a rustle of air and greenery and the warmth of something too familiar. The back of his neck prickled, but the Healer held him firmly in place.

Draco could smell the woman’s cold antiseptic scent and below that the sourness of too much coffee and the ripe smell of her body after what must have been a long shift. He could smell the ink on the quill nib, the same metallic salt to the smell as blood, and he knew then what must have happened, his heart kicking faster, the steep jump on the monitoring spell making the Healer frown. Draco allowed himself to stretch his arms, feeling the way his bones tightened under the skin, wrist bones locking for a second, making him think of lengthening strides, the wild rush of the chase, the thrill of a body made exactly fit for purpose. It was really quite unlike himself, Draco thought, looking down at his own bare torso, pale as a grub, his fingers scarred and splintered from chisels and raw wood, his Mark still there, like it always would be, inescapable.

“What happened to me?” Draco asked, needing to hear it.

“Werewolf. Bad bite,” came a voice—his voice—and Draco’s flesh pebbled into gooseflesh as though in a fresh breeze. “You’re lucky we were already onto him. If we hadn’t arrived when we did...”

“Quite right.” The Healer sounded disapproving. “You were lucky tonight, Mr Malfoy. That bite was designed to do some serious damage. Any deeper and you wouldn’t be here to tell the tale.” Her quill scraped against the chart again before coming to a decisive stop as she plucked it out of the air and shoved it into her pocket. “It’s almost as though it was… personal. We won't know for certain until the next full moon, but given the severity of the bite I think I should prescribe wolfbane. I'll check the dispensary.”

She was gone from the tent before Draco could reply, before the shame crept in a flush of heat from his chest up, before he could tell her he knew it was personal, before he could ask if there was anything that could be done for him. There wasn’t; he already knew the bite had taken, the wolf was in his blood. He could feel it as surely as though the fangs were still clamped down on him.

“It’s always personal with Greyback,” Potter said, moving around the stretcher so Draco could see him. Draco felt very suddenly like lying back down and having a messy cry. “If that’s any consolation.” He reached out a hand and patted Draco’s good arm.

It was almost too much, a sensory overload, Draco’s mouth suddenly wet and getting wetter, a prickle of sweat over his top lip, a greying fuzz across his vision before he blinked the colour back into the room.

“You alright?” Potter, at his shoulder, the scent of him already unmistakable.

“I’m—” Draco began, and then stopped before it turned into a growl at the sudden shift in the air, like a turning breeze. Not a threat, exactly, but something equally new and unsettling, the dangerous rolling whiff, the urge to take or be taken. He raised his head, inhaled. “Oh. You. You’re one too?”

Read the rest of Howl on AO3

144 notes - Posted October 18, 2022

Take the Moon

Drarry ~ M ~ 15k

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one.

Living with Draco (biscuit-lover, no work/life balance, good hair) and his son Scorpius (also biscuit-lover, colour-codes his bricks, proud bearer of plastic swan-shaped garden ornament) gives Harry the routine and companionship he’s always craved. There’s also the matter of the really great sex (because what’s a marriage of convenience without a little fun, after all?)

It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

This is my take on a break-up-to-make-up fic, with a little sprinkle of forced marriage, and a look at the realities of being a parent thrown into the mix. Oh, and Harry just happens to be a werewolf who likes how Draco smells. It's not the story of the marriage, but of the before and the after, and in it i wanted to talk about the ways in which people work hard to love each other as best as they can.

Huge thanks to the mods of @hd-wireless for their sterling work on the fest, and to my lovely friends who keep me going. Special thanks to @sweet-s0rr0w for the cheer-reading, summary-wrangling, and patiently listening to me moaning about whether I'd be done on time or not, to @makeitp1nk who read an early draft when i was panicking, sharpened it up brilliantly, and got me over my slump. And to @maesterchill for the beta and the support - as always you are a ledgebag and I am so lucky to have you.

Read Take the Moon on AO3

[Image ID: tumblr banner with a picture of a Sainsbury’s supermarket exterior at night, a row of shopping trolleys in front. Beside that there is a graphic with a misty moon shape and the title Take the Moon in red letters. Image credit to Liviu Florescu on Unsplash.]

151 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

Six Sentence Sunday

Harry has been fighting the war against Voldemort for seven years. Here, he gets a little downtime with his favourite godchild. Unbetaed.

Rosie was singing, a tuneless joyful sound, hands sticky around her half-eaten apple, cheeks still hot from her nap.

“Come on, darling,” Harry said. “Give me those toes.”

Rosie lay back and kicked her legs into the air, her fat bare feet scrabbling against Harry’s hands. She laughed unrepentantly then let Harry cup both her heels in one hand while he reached for her discarded socks with the other. Her skin felt so smooth, so warm and silky, with a strangely animal, muscular heft to the flexing plump feet.

“That child can’t keep her socks on to save her life,” Molly said from the kitchenette. “I’ll have to spell them stuck if she keeps this up.”

Harry frowned down at Rosie’s little face, then stuck his bottom lip out and drew his eyebrows cartoonishly low, just to hear her make that delicate little wheeze of in-breath that always came before a laugh.

“I don’t think she’d like that,” he called back to Molly, then lowered his voice just for Rosie. “Would you, sweetheart? You wouldn’t like to have your socks spelled on, would you Rosie-Posie? Because if you did—” He paused theatrically, and Rosie, ever-indulgent and with the patient expectancy that came with familiarity, wriggled with anticipatory glee “—then how could I… eat your toes?”

There was a lot of screaming and kicking and tickling and rather a din of monster noises, and Harry definitely got a foot in the face more than once as he pretended to gobble up Rosie’s toes while simultaneously wrestling her socks back on, but by the time things subsided she clambered up, both feet festooned in purple stripes, and settled herself in Harry’s lap contentedly to finish her apple.

Harry kissed her curls, and they sat quietly, Rosie crunching. She was a very restful person to be around, Harry always thought. Her needs seemed very simple, her pleasure at having them met a pure and joyful thing. Harry didn’t remember being that small, but it seemed fairly clear that the Dursleys would have had to really go out of their way to make him miserable. It was so easy to please a two-year-old; more than anything else, the idea that the Dursleys could not be kind to someone so full of potential and so very small—the thought of them treating Rose the way they had Harry—made him realise how truly awful they were.

“She has you wrapped around her little finger,” Molly sighed, and set a cup of tea on the table next to Harry, tucked far enough in that Rose couldn’t reach it. Molly sat down in the armchair with her own cup.

“I don’t mind,” Harry said into Rosie’s hair, which always smelled the same—a hint of a sweet artificial fruity scent, undercut with something earthy and warmly fragrant, like a puppy’s stomach or the earth under damp leaves. “I like it when she’s happy.”

Tagging anyone who wants to join in! Please tag me, I am weeks behind on Tumblr but I love reading them and will love reading them again to reblog when I finally catch up!

153 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

Could We Maybe

Started this microfic ages ago but never finished it so I think it works for the @drarrymicrofic prompt Abrupt. This is inspired by the incomparable @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm and his red strings of fate - and some day I will finish this. Joy, I would love to write something as beautiful as you deserve but such a thing would be impossible for mortal hands to craft.

Harry and Draco find themselves connected by the red string of fate, but Draco can't quite believe that he deserves it. This is the opener (and as far as I had got with it tbh). CW for brief sexual content, soft M maybe?

It happens after the first time they fuck, which isn’t fair, because Draco doesn’t even have time to enjoy the aftermath (bedlinen dense with the heat of their joined bodies, the delicious scrape of Potter’s incisors over Draco’s slowing pulse, Potter so reluctant to separate them that he slackens inside Draco—such desperate intimacy) before Potter says, oh, and Draco feels the tug at his little finger as Potter lifts his own hand, wonderingly.

“I can’t believe this,” Potter says, and Draco feels the same disbelief right down in his bones, the why me from when Potter first kissed him magnified into something bigger, colder, inescapable.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Draco says dully, and Potter laughs, kisses him carefully, knots their fingers together with the red string tangled and snarled between them.

252 notes - Posted February 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Far Side

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt Euphoria. Werewolf Harry, Dad Draco, kidfic. CW for brief mention of a newborn, barely-there sex. Umm I do not know, my idea was that Harry and Draco meet up for the first time in years and Harry gets a sort of wolfy impulse about Draco being his mate, it's all very implied lmao

Harry has a photo on his desk; he says it’s his favourite.

Draco with Scorpius, newly born, just a few minutes old. In the corner, out of focus, there’s the tired edge of Astoria in her hospital bed, but the camera lingers on Draco and the baby, close quarters to the impossible newness of it all. Draco can’t even remember who was holding the camera.

Draco comes by the office to take Harry for lunch, sees the photo in its pale wood frame. He’s mildly horrified; the frame is set at an angle on the desk so anyone can see it. Draco turns it inwards towards Harry’s chair, but Harry’s quicker, hands gentle around the frame, setting it carefully back where it was. It’s a proclamation Draco’s not sure he was expecting.

The moon is waxing gibbous, and Harry is restless, pacing, the strung-bow quiver of a pounce behind his every movement, and he stills only when Draco touches him, face turning up for a kiss as though it was all he had been waiting for.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry says, and that’s when he says it. My favourite, he says, a big expression for something that wasn’t even his back then. “Why don’t you like it?”

“I like it,” Draco says, but he doesn’t, really. “But I was so worried. He was so small, and Astoria...”

“Look at your face, though,” Harry says, and they both watch the photo in silence. In it, Draco’s head dips and raises in a constant, wondering loop, face brightening when he peers into the swaddled bundle as though he’s holding magic itself, a new sun. His unbearably young self untucks the blanket and Scorpius emerges, still wet and crumpled-looking, the small starfish clutch of his hand reaching out, his opening mouth a silent squall.

“I wish I had been there,” Harry says gently, and Draco wishes he could have—somehow, impossibly—been there too.

Instead, Draco had done it by himself, for years—minding the baby, getting Astoria back on her feet, and when the inheritance issue was settled, helping her move to her apartment in France where Scorpius now spends most of the summers and comes back to England each September with new freckles and his hair bleached to sand-silver.

And then, amazingly, one night—feeling out of place at a work party he had tried to get out of attending, holding a glass of wine warmed through by his nervous hand—Draco had met Harry Potter for the first time since Hogwarts and everything that had been for them. Harry, who was at Draco’s side within about three minutes of arriving at the party; Harry, who told him he looked exactly the same, gaze lingering on Draco’s mouth; Harry, who didn’t look the same—streaks of silver coiling through his curls, smile lines sketched around his eyes—but older and bigger and all the better for it.

Draco had heard about the incident in Ireland, of course, had known about the bite. Knowing wasn’t knowing, though; it didn’t encompass the feeling of Harry’s shaky inhale when Draco shifted nearer, the barest promise of incisor in his smile, the press of fabric around the bulge of bicep when Harry pushed his sleeves up, impatient with heat and maybe something more.

In front of everyone at the party, Draco put his drink down and let Harry press his face into Draco’s neck, his panting breath at Draco’s frantic pulsepoint. They fucked in the toilets in the Ministry basement, Harry barely getting his trousers unbuttoned, Draco with his formal robes still hanging off his shoulders, his fingers tracing the puckered scar tissue at Harry’s shoulder.

“We need to talk about it,” Harry said after, though it was obvious to both of them that, while Harry was the one who had been bitten, mate ran both ways between them. But Draco had to go, already late for the babysitter, and Harry’s eyes were bright with some sort of tenderness when Draco explained, stealing yet another kiss.

It took months before Draco introduced Harry to Scorpius, but of course he needn’t have worried.

“It’s a pack thing,” Harry said from under the dense sleeping shape of Scorpius, both of them curled around each other on the couch. “He smells right. He seems to like me too, right?”

“What would you have done if he didn’t?” Draco asked. He didn’t have to tell Harry what would happen if it had come down to a choice between them.

Harry growled softly, amused, and Scorpius shifted in his sleep, one slack pink cheek visible under the possessive curl of Harry’s arm.

“I’m not just the wolf, you know,” Harry said. “You know I would never—”

“No, I know,” Draco told him. “I like to think this whole thing is still our choice.” He waved a hand, encompassing the couch, the sleeping child, two cups of tea standing cool on the side table, and at the window, a sly wink of moon.

599 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#i was feeling grim about my writing this year #felt like i have achieved so little #but am giving myself a little mental shake #because that's just brain weasels talking #i posted four fics i like this year #i was published professionally for the first time #made my first bit of money from writing #had two lit agents approach me and am putting a proposal together for them #and i wrote over 100k of another fic that should be ready early next year #not too shabby for someone who never imagined they could write #i wish you all happiness #i love this bar and everyone in it

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