Laurasauras

I was tagged by the wonderful @laurasauras.

Mike’s is spattered halfheartedly with pink confetti, and HJ’s entire being floods with dread.

Rose’s sobriety is a domino tower constructed of intricate ironies and spite.

You got Kar all snuggled up in your arms. Your nook is still throbbin pleasantly. There's dull little fang bruises lined up in inopportune as fuck places, but you are Captain of your own fleet, even if that fleet's no more than a glorified bookhive, and a Captain answers to no one about the topology a his body.

If Jiang Yanli’s brothers loved her a little less, she could tell them about the Wen soldier who hadn’t recognized her.

The Þprickèd Gardener keeps the secrets of the rich. They love her for it.

Lamplady Swansong is a servant of the common good, and she should be welcome in all homes, from the aristocradle to the guttergrave. But this particular highblood is so well-known for his aesthetic exactitude and unpredictable exacerbescence - well, he might not accept a cripple into his hive. Some believe it brings bad luck! If Swansong took it personally, she wouldn’t get anything done. She knows that, with her continued refusal to accept a seeing-eye unpaid intern, she will continue to make herself vulnerable to new situations. Anything could happen to her here.

All great men have their little flaws, and so, Gilbert likes to read bedtime stories. In one such story, it is said that a snob is she who meanly admires mean things. When he reads this to her, Gilbert tugs on Madelaine’s bedtime pigtail, and he also pats her cheek. Madelaine pouts and kisses his palm. And she adapts. Naturally. She has adapted to death, to wealth, and now also to this - what do you call it? - charming aphorisme.

You see it on your timeline: the word for what you are gets changed to “burgundy” by Imperilous decree.

Despite Kiem’s explanation, Bel’s still skeptical of postcards.

So apparently all of Karkat’s dreams of well-appreciated service are coming true, but it’s happening on a planet where everyone shares his beastly blood. He’s allowed to feel an emotion about this, even if he’s not sure what emotion it is.

So some fanartist drew a “sexy” (read: booby) version of a (cartoon) character who is traditionally very non-sexualised. Fans of the character got mad about it because it’s kind of groundbreaking how that character is written and portrayed and this art totally ignores the entire point of the character. They demanded the art be deleted. In response to that other people said, well what the fanartist did may be distateful but they have every right to draw what they’re into. The two sides fight for days and each starts a harassment campaign and even report their “opponents’” accounts.

So far so typical. But things eventually come to a head and they decide that this will be settled by votes - not through a poll. Through donations to a children’s education charity via each side’s portal. Whoever can get the highest amount of donation wins.

Gideon The Ninth- mock dustcover

I draw book covers for freelance all the time. I feel pretty lucky to do so, and wanted to create one with all my free will and spare time, to make just for me. Well, and for you lot as well. But mainly, for me.

I will be drawing book 2 and book 3 as well. And potentalially have prints of them later this year.

Fairywine (Homestuck, complete)

“Take me.”

My skirts whirl furiously as I burst out from my position beside the judicial seat of Legislacerator Terezi Pyrope. It is late, long past my fey master’s last scheduled appointment, but here we still are- her, myself, and the rest of those subject to her whims.

2. Love Spell for the Already Departed (Homestuck, complete)

Four days, seven hours, fifty-six minutes and six seconds:

The time until your wedding when they put your fiancee’s dead body in the ground, morning dew soaking into the hem of your dress pants, standing stiff-backed and blank-faced on the cemetery lawn.

Four days, seven hours, fifty-six minutes and five seconds:

The amount of time you’ve given yourself to get her back.

3. Noose With Your Name On It (Homestuck, complete)

CURRENT ectoBiologist [CEB] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board con air guitar solo.

CURRENT gallowsCalibrator [CGC] RIGHT NOW responded to memo. CGC: H3Y DUMB DUMB CEB: hey weirdo! CURRENT turntechGodhead [CTG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo. CTG: woah woah would yall tone it down on the pda youre making me blush all kawaii over here CEB: what are you talking about? CGC: H3’S T4LK1NG 4BOUT OUR 3GR3G1OUS P1TCH FL1RTING, JOHN

4. A Sweet Deal (Homestuck, complete)

“No kissing.”

“Hahaha, sure, that’s chill.”

“And don’t-, don’t look at me.”

“You got it, babe.”

Jane almost opens her mouth again to tell him not to use pet names, either, but then she imagines her name in his mouth and somehow, that’s even worse. She purses her lips, staring up at the kitchen ceiling, the hard edge of the countertop digging into the backs of her thighs. Golly, how did she convince herself that this was a good idea, again?

5. Fresh Fruit (Homestuck, complete)

Bracken crunches under my boots, catching at my skirts as if begging me to reconsider as I mince my way into the forbidden forest.

Well– ‘forbidden’ might be a bit of an embellishment. Certainly none actually bothered to forbid me as I passed them by with my empty basket and evident purpose, staring hollowly from the shade of their porches and parlor windows. No, I imagine they understood my choice quite well–inadvisable a gamble though it may be.

6. Bad Kitty (Homestuck, complete)

Roxy jolted into consciousness, choking on something long and hard.

“There mew are, kitty. Enjoy your catnap?”

7. H.O.R.S.E. (Homestuck, complete)

The room is silent save for the tapping of fingers on buttons, both physical buttons and also metaphorical buttons that light Dave up like a live wire.

8. Of Out Hot Mom The Dave (Homestuck, complete)

Porrim: Dave. Dave: holy shit where did you come from Porrim: I did so+me research after o+ur previo+us co+nversatio+n. Porrim: Yo+u were no+t entirely ho+nest with me. Dave: um Dave: im sorry? Porrim: I spo+ke with Ro+se. She to+ld me what MILF means. Dave: oh Dave: shit Dave: I mean what no don't let her fool you it has multiple meanings Porrim: It do+es no+t stand fo+r ‘man I lo+ve fruit' and yo+u kno+w it.

9. Flavor of the Week (Homestuck, complete)

“Neeeeext-t.”

You shuffle to the front of the line, and the troll at the desk peers down at you wearily over her half-moon glasses. She holds out an expectant hand, each wickedly-pointed claw painted a bright teal. You swallow nervously.

10. Keep your hands to yourself (and use your mouth) (Homestuck, complete)

Can’t keep my hands to myself Think I’ll dust ‘em off, put ‘em back up on the shelf In case my little baby girl is in need Am I coming out of left field?

“Dude, are you serious with that shit? Way to sonically catapult me back to the stone age, man. I can feel my face wrinkling as we speak.”

You pause mid-tiptoe on your journey back to your room after your regularly scheduled 3 AM pee break. There’s noises coming from Dave’s room. Why the heck is he up so late?

1. first word of a verse (3/26)

His ex walks into the theater with a whole host of new scars, the most obvious of them fresh, and a teenager trotting loyally at his heels. Hiromi wonders whether the universe is done making him the punchline, and says instead to himself – and to them, because theaters echo, sound carries, and he's had a lifetime of projection –, "This feels like the setup to a bad joke, don't you think, Kento-kun?"

2. the flood, the feeling (12/25)

The days are separated solely by location, the endless cycle of on- and off-shifts punctuated by the growl of the boat's motor and the susurration of waves against the side of it in the stagnant late June air.

3. by the hand; by the hair (12/25)

Suguru always smells Shoko before he sees her, and never holds her until after she's showered. He can't stand her cloud of smoke and chemicals, the bitter-powder tang of medicine, the sterile-sharp chemtrail of alcohol and formaldehyde and a too-clean death; Suguru prefers her own soft astringence, all silver, bitter orange, and clover; subtle and unchanging, it suits her. But when she comes home, she reeks of the morgue, and on the days she doesn't, she reeks of other people.

4. no spark of honor bides (12/25)

Celebrimbor knows that his family have found him by nothing more than the hunting favors left just within the flap of the tent.

5. sometimes you hear the bullet (12/25)

Robby hears the door to his apartment creak open and close, the quiet footsteps muffled by the thick steam in the bathroom, echoing strangely off the tile, in his head.

6. another home than this (10/25)

“Doctor,” Law starts, as he usually does when it’s the two of them in a rare bubble of quiet. The Polar Tang’s machine hum surrounds them, and Robin is silhouetted in the dimmed light of the lamp Law keeps on his desk, leaning forward to peer out through the porthole and into the darkness. They’re on their fifth day being submerged, and it’s late at night, not that it matters in the depths so far from the sun.

7. TIMESTAMP [03072011_04:13:22] (7/25)

Nanami is of two minds when it comes to Shibuya Station. He finds it intolerable, unbearable, a writhing pit of misery teeming with low-level curses tethered to nameless, cursed humans like balloons, bristling in the air. He finds it a balm, a sea of nothing short of anonymity – a place where he is merely another commuter, rather than a sorcerer; another ticket purchased and used, another sardine crammed limply into the tin-train, a man who stands out for nothing more than the light color to his hair and his height and the fact that he, besuited unlike most of the tourists, walks rapidly and with purpose through the maze of the station.

8. laylow (5/25)

Bitter-cold outside the hockey rink. Cheek-biting cold, toe-numbing cold if yous gone and forgot to wear good socks. Wayne don't much mind it, seeing as he always wears his good socks. The lone player’s just gone done puking, and he’s walking out now. Earlier’n usual, since Wayne’s only halfway through his dart and usually he can make it like, all the way through and be thinking about maybe starting a second before driving zambo, and then decide against it. Usually he’s not short on time, for thinkin’ about if he maybe wants to have another dart now, instead’a waiting until he’s finished driving zambo, is the point.

9. the eye, alone in its socket (5/25)

A knock sounds at the door, the hour late and his limbs heavy with the exhaustion of a hard day’s work. His scars ache too, with the equally simple promise of a cold, rainy day to come tomorrow. It hasn’t started yet and Hiromi still finds himself reluctant to move and hoping this is a mere delivery, or a guest knocking at the wrong apartment.

10. perideipnon (4/25)

Her apartment is too small for two bodies, a fact that Shoko hadn’t known before, hadn’t even thought about.

...

Thank you for the tag @spacehussy >:)) I have stolen your idea of doing paragraphs rather than just first lines, I think it's neater. And also this is SUCH a cool tag game! I don't think this shows much of a trend other than an overuse of filter verbs and a love of have a quiet moment interrupted, but it does make me realize I wrote more than I thought last year.

And of course, not only does the fact that Darcy, who owes their family nothing, has kept and continues to keep this secret for them even after Elizabeth’s refusal deepen the gratitude she begins to feel for him after the letter of explanation, but it also liberates Elizabeth to fall in love with him. Because Elizabeth-who-wants-to-marry-for-love would never be happy marrying someone who didn’t know the family secret in advance. She had resigned herself to spinsterhood because she couldn’t be satisfied with having to hoodwink someone to have their hand, but also couldn’t put her family at risk by trusting someone who wasn’t bound to them by more than an engagement. (Maybe she was even tempted to confide in Wickham at one point, and hasn’t Darcy’s letter proven she was absolutely right not to yield to that passing thought.) But Darcy figured it out himself, and he’s kept her trust, and she could fall in love with him without guilt—if she hadn’t already turned him down.