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tenpintsof-sundrop · 5 months

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I really really hate to be that person - especially because I know a lot of people are under the impression that fanfic authors are greedy and we should be grateful for any comments we get, even if those comments are full of unauthorized concrit, even if they're kind of rude, even if they're weirdly self-shaming (sometimes insinuating that people should feel bad over reading the dark or smutty content in the fics or that we should feel bad for writing it in the first place even though you're also reading it??).

But like, lately, I have been getting so many comments along the lines of "this fic should be longer!!" "I wish this was a series!!" "please turn this into a series!" "I would read endless sequels of this!!!" - today someone literally commented on one of my fics saying that it was a war crime that the fic was 30k instead of being 'a whole series'. And I totally understand the mindset that if something is good, you want more of it. If you enjoy something, you want more of it. But these comments are definitely not as flattering as people think they are.

When reading those comments - it doesn't always come off as a compliment. Most of my fics range from 5k to 30k on average, and they are usually oneshots or oneshots that I have split into multiple parts in order to be more readable - most of my longer, ongoing series are abandoned because I didn't have the steam to maintain them. (Most people don't know at all how hard it is to write a good, coherent, well-plotted 100k fic and actually keep up with it.) After I post the fic I have written later this week, I will have written over 400k this year alone, with my entire AO3 having over one million words split between 79 different fics.

So often, having people look at my fics and having their only comment be to 'write more' - feels like an insult. Because I do write more. I have written more. I write consistently. (It just sucks that people have almost nothing to say about what I have already written.)

Having people look at my fics - usually very long fics - and go "hey, this would be better if it was longer!!" or "hey, that was good, but the only productive thing I have to say about it is: make it longer" - it always feels very discouraging.

It doesn't make me want to rush to write more of that fic. In fact, most of the time, I actively avoid working on sequels to fics where the only comments are 'more please' because I know the only thing people will say about the sequel is 'when are you gonna make more?' - and oftentimes, I don't intend to make more.

I have said this in another post, but the ending to my fics are always intentional. I don't write fics with the mindset of turning them into a 100 part series. I write fics with the mindset of making them like a film or a short TV series - telling a capsule of a story with a very intentional beginning, middle, and end. And if I write a sequel, it's because I feel there is more to be told - but I will also cap off that sequel with a very intentional ending.

(Also, don't get me started on the complex of - if fics don't have the classic 'happy ending' people feel like every single thread needs to be resolved until it gets to a more classic happy ending, when I love writing intentional melancholic and thoughtful endings.)

Also - in general, I feel like people don't understand how much work goes into a fic. It might take you about 2 hours to read a fic that's 30k (and a lot of people who are avid readers probably read faster than that, reading it in an hour or less) - but concepting that fic, writing that fic, and meticulously editing that fic so that it can be readable and pleasant for people takes upwards of 20 hours of work. I would say realistically, upwards of 30 hours. And those are just working hours - hours sitting at the computer actively working. That doesn't include the time spent in between workshopping the ideas in my head while I am doing other mundane tasks in life.

It's very, very easy to consume a 30k oneshot in one sitting and then hold out your plate and go "more please!!" without putting any thought into how much work went into the original fic.

All of this just to say - please think about these things next time you are commenting on a fic (or even closing a fic without commenting at all), or doing something stupid like generating a fic with AI - which steals from everyday hard working fanfic writers. Fanfiction is hard work - it's a labour of love, and it shouldn't be about blind consumerism where you finish one and then rapidly start looking for the next one. You should appreciate each one like a good, hand pulled taffy instead of gobbling them all down like cheap candy mass made by factory machines.

Yeah - I think that's it.

-your local over worked (but still passionate) fanfic writer

#uuugh #either nobody will see this or everyone will and they will complain about it #sundrop speaks #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #ellie williams x reader #spencer reid x reader #abby anderson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #fanfiction #fandom #vanessa shelly x reader #gar logan x reader

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spicyclover · 22 days

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You betrayed me

Summary : I played dumb but I always knew. I kept quiet so I could keep you. You betrayed me, and I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt.

Next part : You used me

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

He’s sticking a knife in my heart. I can't breathe. It is fucking insane. Eight months of this bullshit. Eight months, and I was fucking blind. I should have known it was all a lie. All the little touches, all the little words of love, all the caresses. Fuck I’m stupid. Eight months in a relationship with this asshole. I played dumb but I always knew.

"I'm sorry," sobs Lando through my bedroom door. "It's fuck up." His hand tries for the hundred time to open the door without success. "Let's talk baby, you're overreacting."

"You fucking lie to me, you make me believe thing and I'm overreacting?" I explode in anger. How dare he put it on my fault? "I'm a dare. You realize it is fuck up!"

"I know." I push him out of my way and head for the kitchen. "Let me explain..."

"Explain?" I turn around and my eyes meet his. At that moment, I feel only pity for this asshole. Pity, because he's only a shameless dog. "Do. Enlighten me, Lando."

Lando’s eyes fall to the ground. He no longer dares to look at me and his tears flow. I can’t believe it. He stabs me in the back, and he's the one crying. The last few months come to mind. Our first meet, his eagerness to go out together. This mania to leave me on read until he deigns to give me his attention again. Him refusing to meet my parents or him refusing that I come to his house. The many parties we spent apart because he didn’t want his friends to know we were together. What a hell-hole shit, that scumbag.

"You were a dare. Yes, and I am sorry. I feel terrible because the more time I spent with you and the more I realize you are amazing."

"Not amazing enough for you to settle for me though." You whisper with bitterness between your teeth. His hands tries to cope my face but I slam them down. "DON'T fucking touch me."

He raises his hand in defeat and continues. "I can't settle, not right now. I can't." More tears fall from his cheeks.

"Why are you crying Norris?" I ask, gritting my teeth. "YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING CRY." This time I yell. I can't take this anymore. I need to walk. I’m starting to walk around the kitchen. I’m thinking about this situation, a why. I know I’m never gonna have the real reason why he hurt me. I turn and turn like a lion in its cage. The pain rises and the anger boils. I want to slap him, to shout the worst, yet I am unable to form coherent sentences in my mouth. "You're sick. You disgust me."

"I'm sorry..."

"STOP! FUCKING SAY I'M SORRY. YOU'RE NOT." As I leave my body, I see the plate on the counter end up in my hand and the next second explode against the wall behind this traitor. "You betrayed me, Lando. And I know damn well that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt."

Lando raises his face that he hid at the impact of the plate next to him and he turns to me bewildered. Yet he seems to be cut off. His reaction doesn’t come. He’s just looking me. I must look crazy. I’m wearing one of his oversize t-shirt, we’re in the middle of the night, and my hair is pissed. My eyes are swollen and I’m breathing loudly. I want him out of my sight, out of my life.

"Get out." I said without emotion in my voice. He doesn't move. His stare is still on me and I can't. I'm going to be sick. "GET OUT!" He jumps and looks around. He finally reacts. He takes a few steps towards the door.

"All this" He pauses, searching his words. "It wasn't meant to hurt you..."

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 sad #f1 hurt #sad #breakup

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aizawaskittenwhore · 8 months

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august first—r. braun

summary: you fuck reiner as a birthday gift. that’s pretty much it.

notes/content warnings: rough sex, facefucking, degradation, choking, some angst cause relationships are messy, unprotected p in v sex cause we raw dog over here, armin is a sweetheart and eren needs to go to bed, i think i covered everything but let me know if i missed anythin!

this was meant to be a birthday piece for rei 😔*stares in september * to be completely honest i have zero idea how long this ended up being but it’s been taking up space in my drafts and i kinda freestyled it so enjoy sexies <3

the floor is sticky with liquor, limestone tiles splotched with little islands of red as reiner’s body meets it, it’s surface tacky beneath his flushed skin. his head lolls back against the dial of his dishwasher, seeming to relish in the surrounding moment. the apartment is quiet with the din of murmured voices, gentle rustling of keys , someone slipping on a jacket, a faint “who’s riding with jean?” uttered from one of the many intoxicated partygoers; as for who , he does not know.

all reiner is aware of is the thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, body warm with the coat of whiskey, the glow of his solar return pervading the sallows of his face from the previous year’s torment; as if filling a once-deflated balloon with air yet again.

confetti has woven itself into the carpet, solo cups littering the surrounding dining room, a cake still sits on the table, half-eaten. “happy birthday reiner” it read, for a total of ten minutes. only reiner’s name remains due to your insistence that the birthday boy should get to eat his own name, and in pure self-adoring leo fashion, he co-signed.

and there his name sits, beneath its hard plastic shell as his gifts are sprawled around, some big, some small; though reiner had insisted that presents weren’t necessary by any means, you all came together to at least get him a few things to remember the day by. and what a day it had been. he was grateful. and so, so drunk.

his body suddenly takes a dive to the right—he had failed to realize his passive swaying from side to side and lost his balance—his face finds itself directly in your lap, nose mere inches away from knocking over a rather tall bottle of grey goose lingering not too far from your current position. you’re not much better than he is, face flushed and your smile dazed, as you begin to card your fingers through his hair, seemingly unaffected by his sudden landing.

“hey, we’re gonna head out.” armin says, footsteps lightly sticking with every step he takes further into the kitchen. he grimaces at the noise, but says nothing, in favor of checking on the pair of you. yet before he can utter the words “are you guys alright?” a hefty grip on armin’s wrist from the stockier blond sends armin to his knees, discombobulating the shorter man momentarily before he was met with a fierce hug.

“thank you..for coming.” reiner had been struggling to properly pronounce his syllables since the fourth round of tequila shots with eren, but those four words were the most coherent he’d been all night. the sentiment wasn’t lost on armin, and he returned the embrace, even if his lungs felt the slightest bit compressed the longer they hugged. “n-no problem!” armin pats his back thrice and shifts his gaze to you once reiner pulls away and nestles into your lap yet again. “would you like a ride home? you and sasha live not too far from each other, so it’s on our way.” he offers, so thoughtful as always. you begin to nod your head, thinking of the throbbing sensation that’ll soon swim within your temples, your lack of a change of clothes, along with numerous other things—

“i don’t mind if you stay..” reiner mumbles, a hand swirling patterns into your thigh. “never have, you used to sleep over all the time. i still got your toothbrush, s’ in my bathroom” he’s drunk, there’s no nuance , it sounds so scandalous when he says it like that and yet your heart picks up when he says your toothbrush is still in your space in his bathroom. you contemplate his words, given that it’s two minutes shy of one am (from what you can make out via a blurred glance at the microwave), and it is rather late..

armin surveys the two of you with a knowing glance, choosing to once again say nothing. he’s always been one for reading between the lines, clearly there’s some unspoken tension between you and the birthday boy, a history even. “n-not like that.” you laugh, pulse quickening as you try to divert armin’s attention from reiner’s hand attempting to work its way up your thigh, minuscule movements of his hand feeling like leaps and bounds over your already heated skin. “there was a time where i was going through some shit, so reiner let me hang here for a little while. it’s not nearly as..uh..intimate as it sounds.” your voice is low, your head leaned towards armin.

“i don’t mind sleeping here though. it’s one in the morning, and you’ve already gotta take sasha and eren’s drunk ass home. i’ll be good here.” a smile, and a gentle hand on armin’s shoulder is enough for him to leave you with reiner for the night.

“text me if you need anything, okay?”

mikasa‘s jacket and eren’s vomit crusted dress shirt clink amongst armin’s keys as he makes his way to the door (the shirt is tied in a plastic bag, he’s not a psycho).

‘maybe the mad dog jello shots were a bit much’, you think, saying your goodbyes to everyone as they stumble down the remainder of the driveway, jean corralling each person into their designated cars, and silently regretting his decision to double up with armin tonight to drive. it doesn’t help that he’s shoeless, considering eren yacked all over those too. it’s not funny, but it is, and you laugh as the door clicks behind you.

parties have a very poignant atmosphere.

they fill the space and somehow suck the air out of it once it’s over. but what you feel right now has nothing to do with the party and everything to do with the tension between you and reiner. who seems to have disappeared from his spot on the kitchen floor and made his way to the shower, leaving behind a trail of clothes in his wake. his loft is spacious, open floor plans met with a man’s taste in furniture (which equates to the bare minimum, sadly) and sumptuous windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. it’s one way glass, can’t see in but you can see out, rather convenient considering reiner had a very bad habit of never wanting to wear clothes around the house. case and point, the calvin klein boxers strewn across his floor. ‘jesus, even when he’s drunk he’s a slob.’ you think, grimacing as you reach for them in an attempt to chuck them into the nearby hamper—

“sorry for the mess.” he mutters, stepping out of shower as a plume of steam clings to the nearby mirror. towel hanging from his waist, hair slick with water. the scent of his soap and deodorant envelop you as he walks past, rifling through his dresser in an attempt to find clothes for the both of you. from the quick glance at his figure you’d allowed yourself, you quickly deduce that reiner finally made good on that crossfit membership he’d been blabbing about for the last three months. he was always handsome, always with a body that looked like it was carved from stone but the torso you’re looking at (and shouldn’t be) has gotten a major upgrade. ‘this is a bad idea’ you think to yourself, wondering how you allowed a spur of the moment decision lead you back into a bedroom you swore you’d never step foot in again.

you weren’t lying to armin when you said that the conditions of you staying with reiner weren’t romantic, that part was true; but the last time you were in this house, this room, things weren’t exactly…platonic.

“i found these, pretty sure you forgot em when you were leaving.”

a grey t-shirt and a pair of panties plop onto the bed where you sit, and you cringe upon the realization that you’d even left anything here to begin with. he offers you a pair of his sweatpants to help preserve your dignity, but you decline, knowing there’s no way they’d fit you.

“you remember where the towels are, yeah?”

you nod. third door to the left, past the coffee maker.

“cool. use whatever’s in there, i don’t care. i’ll be in the living room, so if you need somethin’ just yell.”

you give him a thumbs up as you disappear into the bathroom, the humidity mimicking the haziness of your mind as it begins to wander, your hands slippery with soap as you run the cloth over the curve of your hip, the same way he did that night.

“fuckkkk.” the sight before you is delicious, blonde burrowing it’s way between your thighs as reiner tongues your clit; a man starved. lust has taken over the bedroom, coiling around the two of you and winding so tight you feel as though you might burst, but if this is what it feels like to be consumed, you don’t mind one bit. he’s rutting against the bed desperately, your moans sending him into a frenzy; his mouth pools with your essence and he can barely contain himself. he adds his ring and middle finger to the equation, sensing you need more, just the slightest bit extra to bring you to paradise and you keen with pleasure.

“don’t stop..m’ gonna cum..” you’re shaking now, thighs shuddering around his ears and your pulse begins to throb so hard you can feel it in your temples, each wave of dopamine crashing over you, into you; you’ve never gotten head like that before. trust, you’d remember if you had. his tongue wanders in the mess you’ve made between your legs, and his face is no exception. your slick glistens in the cropped cut of his facial hair, and before you can utter a word of embarrassment, his tongue is giving you a taste of what he’d worked so hard to pull from you. the kiss is filthy, lips slotted together with strings of saliva; they break like bubbles when you pull away for air.

“shit!” lost in reverie, you’d failed to notice the increasing temperature of the shower water until it scalds your skin, shocking you back to the present moment. soft linen wraps around your body, soothing the harsh burn, legs still shining with droplets as you towel off, noting that you smell just like reiner does; but you’d rather not ride that train of thought. you make your way to the kitchen for a glass of water, brow raising as you realize his slice of cake is missing.

“the fuck?”

“what’s wrong?” floats from the living room.

“the hell happened to your cake?” you peer around the corner, and find the answer to your question stuffing his face. “nevermind.” you laugh, taking a seat on the couch, a cushion separating the both of you. he gestures with his left hand, offering a fork full; you take it, given that you’re both still not sober and this slice of sponge cake is the closest thing you’ve had to food in the last few hours. buttercream icing coats the roof of your mouth and you moan in sheer joy.

“oh my god.”

“right? shits’ so good” reiner mumbles, already on his last bite. his eyes are closed in bliss and you can’t help but feel jealous, you ache to be the cause of his expression rather than some slice of confectionery. little do you know, when your head turns, his eyes rake up the expanse of your bare thighs, resolve crumbling little by little. you’re beautiful, beyond it. he fights the urge to caress you and settles for a loaded question:

“why’d you say that to armin?”

“say what?” you respond. you’re avoiding his gaze intentionally, you know exactly what he’s asking about, this just isn’t the time.

“that it ‘wasn’t like that’ when i said you could stay the night.” the fork clatters against the cardboard of the cake box, filling the silence for a second, but it does nothing to ease the awkwardness of this interaction. “because it’s the truth? i didn’t start staying here so we could be fuck buddies—“

“—but that’s what happened, right?”

“reiner. don’t start this again.” you warn, tone firm. it’s not that you don’t want to talk about this, it’s been weighing on your heart since the night you left, but what could you say? you were running from the problems in your relationship and escaped into the arms of someone you called a friend, and very quickly that became much more than a friendship. the man your boyfriend couldn’t stand became your shoulder to cry on, and dick to ride. and in the end, everyone got hurt. you included.

“how’s galliard?” his voice seems harmless, but you sense the smugness that lies beneath.

“really? now?”

“it’s just a question.”

a pause.

“i haven’t seen him since..you know. we’ve spoken though. he seems to be doing alright, i think.” you answer. you briefly remember a photo dump he posted coming across your feed, he was in the netherlands with his brother last you heard, but that’s as much as you know. you’ve kept your distance from your ex since the fallout of your breakup, and for good reason. considering the last time you’d spoken, he’d told you that he “hopes it was worth it” and that you were dead to him.

you couldn’t be mad. if the roles were reversed, you’d have probably said the same.

the relationship (despite its relatively short run of five months) was volatile, and galliard has never had a desire to communicate with people in a way that isn’t riddled with hostility and aggression. it was the source of many arguments, and “i’m sorry” voicemails. one night you got sick of it, the pettiness, tit for tat, the pointed indirect insults in front of friends, the building of resentment every day you stayed together; so you left, needing to clear some space in your already heavy heart. a bag hurriedly packed, you’d found yourself at the door of a friend who you knew would have questions, but would never judge.

but friends don’t do the things you have done with one another.

“why did you invite me tonight?” since we’re asking loaded questions.

the text came as a surprise, a simple invitation and an address linked in a text message: ‘hey. my friends are throwing me a birthday party tonight. my house. i was wondering if you wanted to come. it’s cool if not, here’s my address tho in case you forgot it’

“i wanted to see you.”

“bullshit.” you scoff.

“why would i lie? you know how i feel about you.”

a pause.

“prove it.” the reposado speaks for you now, and you’re feeling dangerously curious to see just how far reiner will go. intoxication makes for a great truth serum, you’ve learned. he balks at your challenge, pupils shattering and reforming all at once as he attempts to snap himself out of whatever daydream he’s conjured. it has to be, there’s no way you’re sat so prettily on his couch making “fuck me” eyes, with a sliver of your panties visible beneath that thin fucking shirt. it’s a dream. has to be.

a chuckle. “you’re fuckin with me, right?” reiner’s fidgeting slightly, trying not to draw your attention to his increasing arousal.

“not even a little bit.” you’re so close he can feel your breath ghosting along his lips, a hair away from unleashing the pent up sexual tension between the both of you, but you don’t move any further. “i feel kinda bad..you invited me to your party, and i didn’t even get you a gift.” you pout.

“you can make it up to me.”

he’s finally gotten the courage to make the first move, securing both hands around your waist and tugging you into his lap. your clit pulses almost rhythmically when your lips meet, and the noises he’s making aren’t helping. “take these off.” he groans, plucking the waistband of your panties. you oblige his request, but the cool air still makes you shiver when your back hits the couch, legs spread. his eyes rake up your body, once, twice, before his middle and ring fingers take their place spreading your lips; they trace circles around your clit once they’ve spread enough of your juices around to slicken things up, but he’s just getting started. all the little gasps and cracks in your voice drive him insane, and while reiner loves to tease, he couldn’t wait any longer to taste you. locking himself between your thighs, his arms securing your legs around his head, he makes sure to hold on to your hips when he begins to suck on your clit. there’s no running for you, not when you’ve been dangling this pussy in front of him all evening. his tongue is fluid, slippery when it strokes your sensitive nub from every direction, he’s everywhere and somehow you still want more. “feels so good..don’t stop—” you beg, hips bucking into his face. he loves seeing you so fucked out, so desperate to cum all over his tongue, it only encourages him more as his fingers curl against that spot that makes your vision dip, and you gush all over his lips and jaw. your face burns with arousal and mild embarrassment, but he couldn’t be more pleased.

“can’t believe you let me eat this pussy ..and you made me watch you cum all over my face…such a slut.” he mumbles, his tongue still running laps around your clit. still throbbing, still sensitive. your body shivers and shakes with the continuous sensation, but reiner couldn’t care less. he licks and sucks with reckless abandon for a minute or two longer, before finally detaching himself from you, and giving your body reprieve. you struggle to catch your breath, your attention now drawn to the tented fabric below reiner’s torso. knowing it’s a shitty thing to think of in the current moment, you can’t help but lament at just how much thicker he is than your ex.

then again, reiner braun has never been, especially physically, average.

you splay your hands across his length as he pulls you in, neurons firing when you taste yourself on his tongue. he groans into your mouth, his eyes fluttering when you’re stroking and twisting your hand like that—

a brief disconnection of your lips forces his eyes open, but it’s worth it when he gets to sear the mental image of you spitting into his dick into his eyelids for eternity. your hand strokes the hottest noises out of him, the schlick-schlick of your motions only getting faster when filth begins to pour from his lips.

“mhm. just like that—fuck, i missed my nasty girl.”

you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before. and that’s saying a lot, genuinely. your tongue winds around his tip, settling against the underside of his shaft as you descend; the remainder of his dick is in your right hand as you work him over. your efforts matter little though, as reiner has other plans for your tight, tight throat. his hand settles at the base of your neck, winding his fingers at the root of your hair, and grips. rocking you backwards and forwards, he bullies his cock into your throat, and he nearly cums when he watches your eyes well up with tears; at first you panic at the activation of your gag reflex, but your throat slowly relaxes once you realize resistance is futile.

“take it…ah, shit—just like that mama, feels so fuckin good..such a good girl when im fuckin your face” he praises through gritted teeth, pumping himself with your throat a few more times before stopping, and changing your position so that the two of you were in missionary. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you soaked whenever he’d handle you so roughly, the way your eyes would glaze over and your body would become completely pliant for him and him only. for him to be such a typically serious and quiet man, reiner was so mean, so cocky when he fucked; even teasing you for the way you whine when he puts the tip in: “what’s the matter? can’t take the real thing? i know it’s—”

he retreats, and slams back in, taking a ruthless pace. “a lot bigger than those little boys you whore around with.” he finishes with a whisper, folding your knees into your tits as he throws your legs over his shoulders. “m’ n-not a whore..” you whine, voice cracking.

“no? you haven’t seen me in three whole months, you come over for a few hours and the first thing you let me do was stretch out this tight little cunt.” he taunts, a thumb circling your clit. “y-yeah..m-missed you..missed this dick—“ you babble, eyes rolling.

“i know baby, i know, let me in, let daddy make you feel good.”

“j-just like that, fuck fuck fuck” you feel like you’re on the verge of collapse, his cock is pummeling it’s way into your stomach, his sweat is glistening in the glow of his lights and it’s taking everything in you not to beg this man to cum in you here and now. “only whores know how to take dick and still be able to beg for more.” he taunts, his little hair trick from before making an encore appearance as he forces you to watch yourself be debauched, a thick white ring forming at the base of his length like a badge of honor. he was fucking into you so fast and so deep it made you dizzy, but you were too far gone. “love when you fuck me like this’, love when you slut me out” you mumble, teetering on the edge of cumming, you’re so close you can taste it—

“fuck, you’re so fuckin’ nasty, such a good girl for me, always lettin’ me get my way.” reiner moans, a hand wrapped around your throat and a good squeeze has your vision exploding, you melt and your body goes limp, senses still firing off as he coats your insides with sticky white seed.

the aftercare is, to be real, half assed. you’re both exhausted, but reiner still makes sure you’re wiped down with a hot towel, and carries you to bed upon your insistence that you’d, quote, “love to enjoy the sleep part of being fucked to sleep”. you doze off quickly, and reiner follows suit shortly after; the both of you failing to hear reiner’s phone emit a soft ding!

eren 2:23am

you owe me that 20 dollars

your apple watch is still synced to my phone from leg day man…not judging tho. get in there soldier 🫡

#reiner brainrot #kittybutmakeitferal #reiner x reader #aot smut #snk reiner #snk smut #reiner braun #reiner x y/n #reiner x reader smut #reiner braun smut

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

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Jack and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

Part One

Series Masterlist

Warnings: angst, brief mentions of hospital procedures

Sometimes, your mind is your own worst enemy. That little voice in the back of your mind, the one that's supposed to be your conscious, can also lie to you. It can convince you of things you know can't possibly be true, and in your moments of weakness, it can make you a believer.

Ever since Jack's last argument with you over three weeks ago, the one that he walked out of, a proverbial nail in the coffin that was your relationship, that little voice in the back of his mind had been screaming at him, and he was too tired to fight it any longer.

****

God, how could you be so stupid?

Why did you yell at her like that?

Fuck, why do you ruin every good thing that comes into your life?

"Jack, did you hear me?" He was forced out of his mind, lifting his head out of his hands to look at Neelam. He cleared his throat, sitting up in his chair. "Sorry, yeah, I was listening." This was his first meeting of the day at the record label, and he was already over it, wearing his emotions on his face.

Neelam narrowed her eyes at him, shifting her weight to her right hip. "Ok, so then what do you think?"

"Uh, I think we should just do whatever. I'm fine with whatever." He waved her off, dropping his head to look at his phone in his lap. He scrolled through his last messages to you, all pitiful one sided attempts to apologize with no response.

"I'm sorry, but we can't just do whatever. We need to decide what song you're going to perform at the VMAs, I was thinking you could do Nail Tech. What do you think?" All eyes in the room where on Jack, waiting on him to lead, make a decision as he had done a million times before.

Jack's head was throbbing as he tried to have a single coherent thought that wasn't about you. He raked his fingers through his hair, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes to relieve some of the pressure.

"I, uh-"

God, she fuckin' hates you.

She never really loved you. She only felt sorry for you.

You're nothing without her

"Will you please shut the fuck up?!" Jack pounded at his head. The words he directed at himself startled the room into silence. "Excuse me?" Neelam scoffed in disbelief, looking around the room for confirmation that Jack was acting out of character.

"Can we have the room for a second?" Urban stood by the door, holding it open for Jack's team to swiftly exit the conference room. Jack jumped when he heard the door slam shut, Urban locking it before he walked back to the table, sitting across from his best friend.

"If you're gonna give me a lecture, you can save it." Jack edged out, avoiding eye contact. "Oh, I'm not gonna waste my time and energy. I know you're already beating yourself up enough for the both of us." Urban's tone was even, unassuming. He felt for Jack and he hated to see his brother hurting like this, but he also knew this was a mess that he was going to lie in.

The silence in the room was strangling Jack, and he was struggling to breathe. He would have preferred someone scream at him, rather than subject him to this torture. He slammed his hand down on the table, Urban not even flinching as he rolled his joint between his fingers.

"Urban, either fucking say something or get the fuck out of the room. I don't have time for this." Jack brushed a hand down his face, scratching at his beard. "How long has it been?", Urban looked at him, reading the pain in his features.

"Three weeks."

Urban shook his head. "Not since you broke up. How long has it been since you last slept?"

"Three weeks ago." Jack didn't sleep well when you weren't next to him, and he wasn't sure he would ever again. "Man I really fucked up. I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"You're gonna get over it." Urban spoke plainly, like Jack was trying to get over a cold, or a bad test grade. "What the hell are you talking about, man? I can't just get over this."

"You have to. You literally have no choice." Jack was fuming at this point, his face flushing a deep red, his fists balled so tightly he was leaving nail impressions in his palms. Urban's calm demeanor was pissing him off, a reminder that all of the shit he was going through was all of his fault.

"You walked out. You decided to end it. You don't get to change your mind just because you feel bad. That's not how it works." Urban shifted in his chair, leaning back.

"Tell me how its supposed to work, then, Urban, because I swear I'm going crazy." Jack was yelling now, his voice booming throughout the empty room.

"You're gonna finish today, smile, sign the fuckin' papers, like it is just any other day. Then you're gonna go home, go to sleep, and wake up the next day, and do it all over again."

"And how long am I supposed to do that for?" Jack felt the lump in his throat building.

"Until you don't think about her anymore. Look, Jack, I get that you're hurting, but just imagine how she feels right now. She really loved you, cared for you, put up with your dumb ass. She was a goddamn saint, and honestly, she deserves better than you. You need to leave her alone, for good."

****

Resolving that his friend was right, that's exactly what Jack did. For the next week he went through the motions. He made his appearances, he performed for the crowd, all with a smile, and then he went home, went to sleep, and got up to do it all over again the next day. To anyone who didn't know him personally, it would appear that he was perfectly fine, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

The voice in his head was just as loud, just as denigrating, and it was starting to wear him down.

You're lying to yourself

For every tear he didn't shed, he felt a pain in his chest. For every angry word he didn't speak, he felt his legs buckle beneath him. For every thought of you he didn't allow himself to have, he felt his body grow weaker.

At the end of the week, he had to push through everything to get ready for his performance on the Tonight Show. He was running through the motions during sound check that afternoon, trying to keep up appearances. Urban watched from the sidelines, worried about Jack. His face was pale, his features sunken, moving around the stage like every movement was excruciating.

"Alright, Jack, lets just run through the song one time, make sure everything is to your liking." The producer guided him to his mark, giving him the stage. Jack nodded his head to the music, feeling the tension building in the base of his neck, another splitting headache oncoming. He closed his eyes tight, reaching behind him as if the pain was external.

"Everything ok, Jack?" Neelam gave him a thumbs up, willing him to continue. He felt a chill on his body, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Jack?" He heard Urban's voice, but couldn't see him as the room started to spin, his vision blurring. He opened his mouth to speak, but his lungs were constricted, not even an breath able to leave his lungs.

"Jack!" He heard Urban's voice once more, muffled in his ears, until he and saw nothing, his world going dark.

****

Wake up

Wake up!

Jack's eyes shot open, the bright overhead fluorescent lighting blinding him as he tried to get his bearings, struggling to sit up.

"Hey, hey, relax man." Urban pushed Jack back down onto the hospital bed. He looked around him, noticing all of the wires he was hooked up to, and IV running through his arms. He heard the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor, and the sterile smell of cleaning supplies flooding his nose. "Where am I?"

Urban settled into the chair next to Jack's bed, propping his feet on the mattress. "You collapsed at Jimmy Fallon, and now you're at the hospital. Nurse said you were so dehydrated, she's surprised you didn't end up here sooner."

Jack pulled at the IV in his arm, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I need to get out of here. Did you tell Y/N I'm in the hospital?" Urban chuckled, blocking Jack's way out of the room. He was literally in the hospital, and still his only thoughts were about you.

"No, Jack. I didn't tell her, and you can't leave. You haven't been discharged yet." Jack relaxed out of necessity, beginning to feel dizzy again. Urban handed him a cup of water, and he took a couple of sips, feeling just how dry his throat was after waking up. "She's probably worried about me." It was wishful thinking, he knew it, but he hoped saying it out loud would make it true.

"Jack, no, she doesn't even know you're here. No one contacted her. Its just what we thought was best. Rest up, man. We're gonna get you on the first flight back to Louisville and back to your home so you can get some rest."

Urban swallowed, dropping his gaze from Jack's face. He was lying through his teeth. You were the first person Urban contacted when Jack got to the hospital, but when you didn't answer any of his calls, he didn't think you wanted to be updated on Jack's condition, and he stopped calling.

****

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

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@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

#jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow #jackharlow #jack harlow x reader #jackman harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 7 months

Text

Oh we are so BACK

When I tell you I saw this and died. HELLO?????

I keep hiding my face lahshjsdhjgfsaf HE HAS NO RIGHT. NO RIGHT AT ALL BEING THAT SEXILY INTENSE AAAAAAAAAAA

Anyway, I should probably try to make some attempt at describing the event since. If I don't I'll just be barking/crying/hiding my face for the next twelve hours.

Basically--and I'm not sure this is going to be across the board, but it held true for Napoleon and Sebastian at least--each suitor has a birthday event this year instead of a separate story. Comte's won't be released until tomorrow, but they have posted a preview.

From what I gather, he talks a little bit about himself and reveals parts of his past that haven't come to light in the game yet. There wasn't really enough to convey a coherent narrative beyond attending a party, but the line displayed here does get across the larger theme:

Comte: (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.)

He talks about how the aristocracy have thrown parties and extravagant celebrations for his birthday for most of his life. But none of it has ever really made him happy, largely because he knows that they are attempts to strengthen and broadcast power relations within high society. While I don't think he means it's entirely devoid of well wishes, I do think he sees it as a nexus of influence--and thus, by nature, impersonal. And honestly, I don't think he's wrong about that; the higher the echelon in social standing, the more it requires performance to maintain the position.

That being said, there is a fascinating flashback where he remembers a pureblood telling him about how falling in love with a human is an experience of another caliber entirely. My understanding is that Comte was still a fairly young vampire at the time, so he didn't really understand what the person was getting at. It seems like the other pureblood was trying to convey the difference in feeling, perhaps the fact that humans are more grounded in accordance with how they live--the reality and necessity of change.

After reading this--and the recent 5th bday story--I can absolutely see how change is something Comte has a complicated relationship with. He's known a certain way of life for so long, has constructed a sensibility of distant, rational maturity. After all the heartbreak of his youth, and two very acute traumatic events in his life, I can see why he'd be so afraid of broaching any kind of proximity with another person. Because on some level it's so much easier not to put your feelings on the line, to never have to fear devastating loss. And that's to say nothing of the worry of being unable to measure up on behalf of another person, of letting them down.

I'm so excited to see the rest of the contents, but something about the preview made me equal parts giddy and enamored (all I do is kick my feet with excitement LOL). I think what gets to me with Comte is that he truly does love companionship as a place to rest, a place where he can be honest about himself and his feelings without fear of ridicule (and the same goes for MC). In a world increasingly obsessed with surface level performances of power, status, and emotion, it's hard not to feel his exhaustion to the core.

Also, because these lines at the end more or less destroyed me in the best possible way:

MC: ...The you who had nowhere to belong no longer exists. In much the same way...Abel, I belong to you. Comte: ... Comte: I wish I could say to myself all those years ago, the me who kept indulging in such paltry things. Comte: Until you meet MC, you will never know love... The warmth of MC in my arms filled me with such joy I was near tears. (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.) The moment my lips found hers, the sweetness lit a fire deep in my body. Comte: These cute lips that melt against mine, the heat of your skin, the love that envelops me in your embrace--always leaves me so deeply in love with you.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp spoilers #LETS GO ABEL UNPACKING ALL THOSE COPING MECHANISMS #**pats the couch next to me** CONFIDE IN ME #but in all seriousness i really do love how raw his relief and happiness feels #to have spent all of those years trying to subsist on emotional crumbs and numbing himself #and mc is so real for just gathering him in her arms and holding him tight QUEEN MOOD!!!!#i really really really love that general recurrence in his stories too #of how he always feels so isolated and out of place even when he's surrounded by people #yet all it takes is mc saying 'you belong to me--just as I belong to you. you're never truly alone :>'#to make him both overjoyed but also unhinged with so much love for her--to feel alive #also man........MAN.....#him looking back at who he used to be vs who he is now #im so caught between memeing like 'you know what that is? growth!'#but also lowkey weeping from the fact that he feels loved enough to look back and fully admit it wasn't quite happiness #that he was just surviving the only way he knew how--not really living #ABEL THE THINGS YOU DO TO ME #CMERE LOVER BOY #comte propaganda #fangdad propaganda #baguettosaurus #literally october was always my favorite month but its even better now that it just becomes a comte-loving festival for me #truly all the joys of monsterfking all tg

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twyftwyt · 6 months

Text

…you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand - Chapter 3

Pairings: Noah Sebastian × Reader

Warnings: smut 18+ (power play, unprotected sex, unresolved trauma)

Authors note: getting down and dirty in this one, but it’s all downhill from here, babes; lots of trauma to unpack, lots of unhealthy habits and unresolved issues; Noah doesn’t know how to behave properly or talk straight, like I said, or man’s never been to therapy before, he’s hurting people left and right

“Let me apologize properly, baby.”

The only way you know, I thought.

I let him lead me inside and prop me up against the wall, with my hands up in the air. He was never really the gentle, slow and soft kind and tonight was no different. His hands were gripping my whole body, from my breasts down to my hips and I could see the pure hunger in his eyes. I would lie if I didn’t say that this scenario has happened a few times before as well. Me always trying to back away from him then him finding his way back into my life by taking a shortcut, that shortcut being my bed. He was good at it and he knew it. He knew how to work me. He knew what I liked, what buttons to push to keep me on edge, which spots to cover in kisses and which - in bruises. He was manipulative, arrogant, egocentric and stubborn and he wanted what he wanted. It was always “my way or the highway” with him. I thought I’d outgrow him, I thought that maybe he was just a crush I needed to bed and then bury but one month turned into three and three turned to seven and here we were. All over each other again.

“I know I can be a dick.”

Yeah, no fucking shit.

“But you know I’m weak for you.”

His breath was hot and heavy on my face and his eyes were piercing my soul.

“You know it’s never good when we argue.”

“Then maybe we should talk things through like grownups.��

“Agreed. Fuck, you feel so good.”

And just like that I knew we weren’t gonna talk things through.

I felt his hand slide down my panties and he brushed my lips softly. I was already too wet to think about anything else and just pressed my body down onto his hand. He palmed me and let me rub myself on his left hand. It really felt good. He was a god at making me crumble and tonight he was on a mission to scatter me in pieces.

“You want a finger inside?”

I moaned at the thought.

“Or two..”

Before I could answer or even nod, his middle finger was circling my entrance.

“Noah, please. Don’t tease..” I pleaded.

“But you’re so cute when you beg, baby.”

His cheshire cat smile spread as he was positioning two of his fingers at my center. Never giving me what I wanted from the first try. Always had to beg for it. And he loved knowing that he had that kind of control over me. He thrived on it.

I felt his fingers slip inside and my brain got all foggy from the instant fulfillment.

“I’ll never get tired of this. Look at yourself.”

He pushed me in front of him and propped me in front of my mirror that was placed right next to the door. His left hand found its place around my neck whilst his other was finding its way back to my folds. My head fell back on his shoulder and I looked up at him, my nosye tickling his chin. He was all worked up, muscles tense around me, jaw clenched and eyes dark with desire. And fuck me, he looked more handsome than ever.

“Look at yourself, not me.” his hand straightened my jaw

Seeing myself so tightly wrapped around him, engulfed in his energy made me roll my eyes back. It felt other-worldly every time. And it was no different tonight. I had already forgotten everything I was mad at him for and existed only in this moment, here, in his embrace.

“Please, Noah…” I was no longer able to form coherent sentences and my climax was near.

“Please what?”

“Please..”

I felt his fingers curl inside me again and I pressed down harder, my knees giving in and my whole body shaking. I gripped his arms to steady myself better but I could no longer see what was happening around me. It was all a haze.

“Good girl. That’s it, there you go.” his soft, breathy voice was humming in my hair

Before I could even compose myself I heard him unbuckle his pants and let them fall down to the floor along with his boxers.

“Put your hands on that stand.”

And I obeyed. I saw his animalistic expression when I looked in the mirror and I knew there was no point in arguing. He could have me in all the ways he wanted and I would oblige.

His hand slipped between my cheeks and he slapped my center hard. I felt my knees give in again and cried out in pain. He was harsh when he propped my ass against his erection and rubbed himself in between my folds.

“Do you accept my apology?”

The tip of his cock slipped inside and my head fell forward.

“Is this good enough of a sorry?”

Half of his length disappeared inside me.

“Am I forgiven?”

His whole body slammed into mine and his wet lips stuck to the back of my head. In my heart of hearts I knew this was never going to be enough. Sex could never fix all our problems. It only worked for a little while.

“No, but you can fuck your way into my forgiveness.”

His laugh echoed down the hallway and I felt him move inside me. He wasn’t being gentle with me. His body continued slamming against my skin and I knew I was going to have bruises by the time I wake up tomorrow.

“I can do that.”

And you can do it good, I thought.

His hands were gripping me at both sides and my hair was already sticking to my face from all the sweat. He still had his hoodie on and my shirt was half raised, exposing my breasts. We looked a hot mess. And we were. And my roommate was sleeping in the bedroom upstairs but I could care less about it right now.

He pulled out and I felt the sudden emptiness, until he spun me around and lifted me off the ground, burying himself deep inside of me again. Moving through the living room without pulling out once, he put me on the kitchen counter and took his hoodie off. My hands immediately found their place on his chest, scratching him down to his belly.

“I can live here.”

And I’d let him. I’d let him live inside me. No one fit the way he did, he was right.

He took my legs and lifted them until they were resting on both sides of his shoulders and I let the rest of my body lay down on the counter top. His cock was slamming in and outside of me and I couldn’t make out dreams from reality. My eyes were glued to his and the only time he took them off was to spit on my exposed center.

“Spit in my mouth.” I blurted out in the haze

I think I’ve never seen a more sadistic smile creep up his face. He lifted me off the counter and grabbed me by the hair.

“You know why we’re never gonna get out of this? Because we’re fucked up and disgusting together. Open your mouth for me.”

His left hand was massaging my clit while his cock was buried deep inside me and his right hand was pulling my hair back. My mouth fell open and I felt the saliva coat my tongue.

“Swallow like the good girl I know you are.”

“Noah..”

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

His spit covered my mouth again and ran down my chin this time. He was picking up his speed and the friction of our skin was creating so much noise, I’m sure people could hear us from miles away.

“Cum inside. Please.”

His face changed the moment I said it out loud. He’d never done it before even though I was on the pill ever since we started seeing each other. I knew I was probably going to regret this later but I didn’t care now. And neither did he, by the way his movements changed. They were more rapid now. His hands gripping my hips closer to his own. His head fell back and the silent moan he was otherwise letting out now turned into a full groan. He was feral and he was leaving bruises everywhere around my body.

“Fuuuuck…fuck that feels good. Fuck.”

I felt him twitch and spill inside of me and my walls tightened around him.

He was spent and so was I. The moment he lifted me off the counter to carry me back into my room, I felt the weight of the whole day hit my body. We didn’t even shower, our clothes scattered around the whole house. I’d have to think of excuses tomorrow. Tonight was for bad decisions. And my bad decisions was curling up against my back, pulling me into him.

We were never gonna make it out of this relationship whole. Or the same. Or even remotely close. And I was afraid of all the things we could do to each other. We were both spiraling and downfall was near, I could feel it.

But we didn’t feel so bad. Rather just.. broken.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian fic

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erinevrly · 1 year

Text

the confession alone is more than enough to throw erin completely off guard, but it’s the sound of the all-too-familiar voice, echoing in the foyer of her two-bedroom condo again, after what feels like an eternity, that makes the muscles in her legs stiffen and the hair on the nape of her neck stand up. her natural instincts urging her to pull him into a hug, assure him that everything will be okay in the end, pretend he’s still hers and she’s his — that it’s the two of them against the world, the way it used to be a few years back. oh, how easy it would be to forget about everything and… but the more rational part of her wants to just stand here, linger in the doorway for a while longer, and pretend she hadn’t heard him, wishes the ground beneath her feet would open up and swallow her whole, get her out of this strange, uncomfortable situation. why ��would he say this now? why did he have to say this?

clearing her throat as she contemplates her response, she absently brings one of her now shaking hands to her dainty necklace and, to occupy her fingers with something, anything that will help her fight off the urge to reach for the redhead, begins to fidget with a small, heart-shaped pendant. she opens her mouth, but closes it almost immediately, her heart pounding away in her throat, keeping her from forming any coherent sentence. for someone who’d been subconsciously dreaming of something akin to this moment, she feels completely lost and unprepared, nowhere near ready for this kind of conversation. the gifts and letters that he’s been sending her, all the flames that, perhaps involuntarily, they have slowly rekindled, every little thing that she’s been trying to ignore for the sake of their significant others and her own peace of mind… they’re standing right in front of her now and she can no longer run away from the feelings that she’s so desperately tried to suppress for the past few months.

gaze dropping to the floor, examining the pink nail polish on her toes, she struggles not to get emotional, not to overthink the meaning of this unexpected visit. ❝ 𝐚.𝐱𝐥, ❞ she whispers, a soft plea ringing in her voice — not here, not now, let’s not go there… she’s just managed to put her life back together, to move on, or at least that’s what she’s telling herself. if they have this conversation, it will leave her nothing but a shell of the woman she is. but she can’t just close the door in his face, tell him to leave because it’s her weekend with sebastian, scold him for complicating every little thing, remind him that he should be writing letters and sending flowers to a different woman. god. she’s never been strong enough to stay away from him. she doesn’t want to stay away from him. ❝ would you like to come in? it’s almost dinner time. i’m making ‘ghetti and meaty-baws, ❞ she offers shyly, a hint of a smile on her lips because that’s how sebastian calls them. meaty baws. she thinks it’s adorable. ❝ speaking of bastian, ❞ she’s quick to change the subject, although it breaks her heart, ❝ he’s been grouchy all day. i think he might be coming down with something. he keeps complaining about his throat and has a stuffy nose, watery eyes, sneezing… you know the drill. but i’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you, ❞ she explains, opening the door a little wider and inviting the singer to come in with a subtle hand gesture. ❝ see the pile of blankets on the couch? he’s in there somewhere. would you like something to drink? we have apple juice. i can make you coffee or tea? ❞

@rcsechild

#main verse.#answered.#spring 1994? me checking our timeline to make sure it makes sense ;)#thank you for sending this!! i miss these two sm and this idea had me all teary eyed :))#red: i cant stay away from you #careful now cause curl cant stay away from you either :( shes pretending shes fine :( shes not #the way she just changed the subject like we cant talk about feelings cause well be falling for each other real fast :)#so heres your snot covered son go watch scooby doo with him and ill make you food :)))

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saintsenara · 1 month

Note

Hi! I just wanted to ask: what advice would you give someone who wants to start writing fanfiction for the 1st time, without any real writing experience? Have a nice day!

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'm always honoured to be identified as someone who might have something meaningful to say about writing - and so i always worry about doing justice to questions like this without coming across as being flippant.

because i don't think its ever worth giving advice on writing style or techniques, because these are so inherently subjective. i am an unabashed plantser - i have a vague idea of how i expect a story to go [and i always skip to the ending first, harry burns style], but i let the muses take me where they will otherwise - and this obviously affects everything else about my writing process: whether i like to stick to a specific posting schedule [no]; where i begin in a scene [dialogue]; whether i prefer short or long pieces [yes]; what sort of themes i want to look at; my attitude towards the source material [i believe in the value of canon coherence, but i'm not drawn towards trying to make my work unclockably canon-compliant]; what i find useful to receive from others during the writing process; and the fact that i like to play with genres, themes, and pairings.

if these things don't apply to you - and there's no reason why they should, even after you've been writing fic for a century - then i don't think i'm qualified to give you any advice on how you should go about putting words on a page.

but i do think i can give you something.

because if you want to start writing fanfiction - as is the case for everything else you will want to start doing in your life - there is only one key principle to bear in mind:

fortune favours the bold

by which i mean, at the most basic level, that the only way to start writing fanfiction is to... start writing fanfiction. the only way that you'll ever know if it's something you enjoy doing - and what it is about it that you like, what you find instinctive, what you don't, what your "voice" is, which characters you find harder than others to bring to life, what techniques you'll use to plan, how your work will be received, how that will make you feel, how your style will change the longer you write, and so on - is to grit your teeth and just take the leap.

but i also think that remembering that fortune favours the bold is a fandom principle which serves us all very well in a context broader than just tapping out fics while hunched over our keyboards.

because boldness is synonymous with courage - and writing something and putting it out into the world does take courage! - but it's a courage which has quite a distinctive style.

boldness is not solemn, quietly-enduring, captain-going-down-with-his-ship bravery. to be bold is to be audacious, daring, cheeky, innovative, and a little bit irreverent. it's not someone saying mournfully over your coffin "she fought bravely to the bitter end" - it's someone looking at you in awe and saying "how the fuck did you pull that off?"

and this matters in fandom. because participating in fandom - whether you end up writing fic or not - takes a hell of a lot of brass neck.

after all, each of us has ended up here because we looked at canon and said "sorry - did you think you were done?"

and then - when canon got flustered and started stammering - each of us has rolled our eyes, rolled up our sleeves, and said "don't worry, hen. you can leave it to me."

to be in fandom is to have the audacity to treat the text as a springboard - rather than something which remains behind glass in a museum. it's deciding to fling the characters we love into genres they don't originally come from and revelling in the chaos which ensues. it's finding missing moments and daring them to be just as important as a canon scene. it's the fun of wildly improbable alternate universes - from dystopian horror to coffee shops. it's cheerfully ignoring that there's a point canon thinks its story ends - whether that's finishing narratives which end unsatisfactorily or just playing with happy-ever-after. it's taking two characters who never interact in canon, winking at the camera, and making them kiss. it's taking two characters who never interact in canon, winking at the camera, and making them fuck. it's having the time of your life becoming a malevolent deity and making a character suffer.

while it might not always feel this way, at its core fandom is fun. and it's fun in a way which is quite unusual in this day-and-age - in that it's something we get to shape for ourselves, rather than having to engage with a product according to the whims of the corporation marketing it. it lets us be indulgent without calling us greedy. it lets us chatter away at each other without calling us unproductive. it lets us be sincere without requiring performative earnestness from us. it lets us engage with the uncomfortable and the lurid without the bland sanitisation of respectability.

and it allows us to be hopeful.

and i have always been struck by just how much about fandom rests on hope.

to believe that the dead can live happily in another universe, to believe that time-travel can fix things, to believe that bad people can get their comeuppance, to believe that good people can be imperfect and it doesn't matter one bit, to believe that those who are hurt can be comforted, to believe that justice can be done, to believe that villains can be redeemed, to believe that an insignificant background character matters just as much as the hero, to believe that things can be better - whether your story is overthrowing a corrupt government or letting two people enjoy themselves uncovering a kink, to believe that the most improbable people can love each other - romantically or not... all of this takes hope.

and hope takes boldness.

so be bold and start writing.

be cheeky. take risks. be your own biggest fan. be irreverent. be cunning. recognise that not taking fandom too seriously is self-protective. be self-indulgent. have some self-awareness. be collegiate. gas up your friends whenever you can. be nice to your commenters and try and give them the benefit of the doubt if they express themselves poorly. be curious. regard disagreement as interesting. be compassionate. be tenacious. be prepared to write stuff that flops. be prepared to write stuff that gets left on the drawing-board. be prepared to write stuff people hate. be prepared to write stuff you hate. be audacious. believe you can do it. be hopeful. be daring. be brave. and be bold.

because i promise you that, even if you've never written a word of fic before, you can write your way into and out of anything - any fic, any trope, any pairing, any characterisation choice, any plot hole, any setting, any premise - and have fun and look good doing it.

if you simply have enough nerve.

#asks answered #asenora on writing #fortune favours the bold #shy bairns get nowt #alexa play naughty from matilda the musical #one for the theatre girlies there...

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

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Mental health question if it doesn’t bother you; how did you manage to get the self-discipline and/or willpower to constantly get up and do things by your own volition? Just thinking about how much work you had to do to get your book written then out has me wanting to hide in my bedsheets.

With a lot of struggle, a great deal of help, and lasting mental trauma that left me unable to write for a year. I'd say 'lol' to lighten the mood, but, well...

The rest of this answer talks about death, so if you're not up for that, now you're time to scroll away.

At the time of writing Phangs, I knew I was being left to die from medical negligence. I knew I was dying, and I'm pretty certain everyone following me on here at the time knew it too. And yet they still supported my patreon, likely knowing that the thing they were pledging for would never see the light of day.

Grimly determined to not go gently into that good night and confined to my bed most days, I wrote what I could on the days I was lucid. The end result was a 500k manuscript that I have since spent the better half of two years during my recovery, breaking up and reworking into something (hopefully) resembling coherence.

But make no mistake, I did none of this alone.

I'm very fortunate to have had a partner who loved and cared for me at my worst and continues to do so. Friends who support me and cheer me on when my brain weasels come back. And also the team of professionals I work with to get the book(s) ready for publication.

I was also very fortunate that my editors over at @roselarkpublishing were willing to hold my hand through a lot of the administration stuff, which seemed wholly daunting and undoable at the time. (And still does if I'm having a low spoons day.)

And even then with all that help I still have plenty of days where my brain does the equivalent of a toddler throwing themselves down on the ground, kicking their legs in the air, and wailing, "I dun waaanaaaaa."

Because I am mentally ill on top of the ADHD, and I will always have bad days. And while some folks might be able to brute force their way out of them, I'm no longer one of them. I broke my brain by forcing myself to work when I should have been resting. So now it's less a question of 'willpower' and 'discipline,' and more about what I'm doing to support myself that enables me to be creative and do my job.

I have purposely spent the last year trying to come up with a system for getting shit done that works for me. And in all things, I try to treat myself with kindness.

Have you eaten? Slept? Is your work/living environment conducive to focusing and getting shit done? Have you been doing things that make you happy? What are you struggling with? Is there someone you can ask to help clarify things? No? Let's find some then, shall we...

So please don't think of it as a lack of willpower or discipline, and consider instead what you need to feel better in order to get things done. And also to ask for help.

Any author who tells you they do everything themselves without any help from others is either a liar or oblivious to the amount of work other people do on their behalf. They're not good people to take writing advice from.

#writing #death mention #mental health

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esther-dot · 5 months

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I’m sure you’ve been asked this a million times, but is there a specific meta (or metas) that you feel sufficiently explain the pol!jon theory?

Kit's face.

Obviously, that's kinda a joke, and I'm gonna link more stuff for you, but to me, that is one of the most compelling arguments for it. Not merely because he failed to communicate love in his scenes with Dany (although that's true), but because, there are a hundred other emotions he was conveying in their scenes that we have to ignore or deny if we're to accept that he was enraptured with Dany, trusted her, or thought she would be a good queen. If you look at that gifset, in many pivotal scenes, he's torn, worried, disappointed, afraid. All sorts of emotions that simply don't fit in with the "fool in love" storyline.

Another of my favorite posts on the subject is this gifset in which D&D create parallels between Dany and LF, JonDany/LF&Sansa, some, or all of this, clearly intentional. Or this parallel from s7 that uses repetition of a line to indicate, Jon and Dany are not friends, they are in fact, opposing forces. Or this scene in s8 showing us that Grey Worm doesn't trust Jon, which again, is saying, Jon isn't as loyal as he's supposed to be. I mean, I knew that, but again, it doesn't fit with the story. Those speak to D&D’s plans, things completely beyond the actor’s control.

I'm linking a number of gifsets right off the bat because what they chose to put on our screens is more compelling than the words I use to try to argue my opinion. For example, this gifset of Sansa being the power in the North, look at who Jon (nonverbally) recognizes as the person he should show deference to. It's a weird detail that we know they orchestrated to show a specific thing, but again, it doesn't fit with Jon being a Dany convert or believer in her status as their true queen.

ANYWAY, far as I can tell, everyone had a different version of the theory, some of which, I didn’t like much, some of which, I still think are the best explanation of what I watched, but this gifset is basically the summary of it. Jon heard Sansa, he purposed to be smarter, and was unwavering in his loyalty to the North. Simple as that. This, I think, is the meta that best explains the political Jon storyline in s7. There were many wonderful metas on this, sadly, many of my favs are no longer accessible because bloggers deactivated (my pol!jon tag has some posts in it still), but basically, I think it was an interpretation that showed more respect for Jon and Dany.

Dany sliding into paranoia and isolation is something they tried to speed run in s8, and it was presented as a kind of "madness," but if Dany was right, that Jon wasn't loyal to her, that she didn't have love, it's a more sympathetic story for her, as well as a darker but more coherent story for Jon. It reminds me of Aerys and how he was "paranoid" in the end, but we do have lines that sound as if, yeah, people were wanting to dethrone him (potentially even his son), which in no way justifies the horror he wanted to unleash, but does create a more nuanced scenario, something Martin is very fond of.

Dany realizing the person she trusted can't be trusted could have been (I thought was) a critical moment in her choosing fear as her path to power in 8x05, and I didn't think it served her well to pretend that was all in her head when it clearly wasn't. I wrote this post finale to explain my thoughts on show Jon, what happened to him, the parallels I saw, the meaning behind it.

#dot chat #got thoughts #pol!jon

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phantom-of-the-501st · 1 year

Text

Bad Batch Finale Analysis

Spoilers for TBB Season 2

Tagging some people who want to see some longer analyses: @saturn-sends-hugs @phis-writing @eriexplosion @heyclickadee @questforgalas @panther-os

So... that was a lot. We all have many feelings about things and I'm not sure anyone really knows how to express them. I'm not entirely sure where I stand on some things, so I don't totally know how I feel about these episodes overall, but I can say that I liked them. They're not my favourite of the season, but I did still enjoy them (as painful as they were).

I'm going to try and break down some of my thoughts about bits of the episode, but I don't know how coherent this is going to be. I've been jotting things down in my phone when they come to me, so I'm going to attempt putting them in a slightly more organised order, but no promises.

Probably best to get the heavy bit out of the way first.

Is Tech dead?

No. At least, I don't think so and there are a few reasons for this. The first is that we don't see a body and if we've learnt anything from Star Wars, is that no body = don't trust that they're dead. And even if we do see a body, we can't always trust it! (Looking at you Maul). The second is that he was found by Hemlock. Seems a bit suspicious that he happened to be found by the guy who likes experimenting on clones is it not? I'm sure he'd be happy to scoop Tech up and take him to do whatever awful experiments he has planned. Sorry, but the goggles aren't proof that Tech is dead. Hemlock is probably just throwing them out to break the Batch's resolve and put them in a more vulnerable state.

And the final reason is that if he is dead, it's really cheap. We've already discussed how members of the Batch dying this season wouldn't work particularly well narratively. For a death like Kanan's, it happened near the end of the show, where it made sense for his story to end. It doesn't make sense for Tech's to end here. And yes, an argument can be made that death is unforgiving and that so many people die before their time (in fiction and reality) but from a narrative standpoint it doesn't work. It doesn't hold the emotional gut-punch that it should. Yes, we all cried in the moment (and are still crying now) but how many people are angry? How many people find this "death" pointless and inconsequential? How many people think that it fell flat? I said months ago that I wouldn't be happy if all of this development that Tech was getting was just leading to him dying at the end of the season. It's weak storytelling imo. And that's why I think he's not dead. We may not always agree with the direction that writers choose to take characters, but I think that killing Tech here would completely miss the mark and I trust that they wouldn't do that.

Parallels to Echo's "death"

Coming off that point and characters not really being dead, this whole situation with Tech feels very reminiscent of what happens to Echo. A character that sacrificed themselves and was left behind, believed to be dead? If he has been taken by Hemlock and is going to be experimented on, then it really parallels what happened with Echo. And if I'm completely honest, I don't totally know how I feel about this. Yes, I'm happy that it means that there is a good chance that Tech is alive, but I also worry that that narrative is going to start feeling very repetitive.

We've touched on the idea of Crosshair's story paralleling Echo's and how that could lead to some interesting character dynamics. I have always been really interested in exploring that and how it could create an interesting understanding between those to characters. But now having the same happen with Tech? I don't know. Part of me worries that they are at risk of just telling the same story over and over again. It removes the idea of this unique dynamic between Crosshair and Echo. Don't get me wrong, I would love to see Tech and Crosshair having something as personal as this to bond over, but we don't know much about their past yet. I feel like it would've been interesting to explore a connection between those two from their past and let Echo keep this story beat as a way of becoming even more entangled with the Batch. I guess I'm just worried that they are going to make this a connection point between Tech and Crosshair and Echo is going to get sidelined again.

Also, three members (aka 50% of the Bad Batch) having very similar story arcs involving being left, experimented on and then rescued? I don't hate it, but it could get a bit too repetitive for my liking.

Wrecker

Time for some character breakdowns! Oh, Wrecker... I wanna give him a big hug, I really do. Back in TCW, Wrecker was shown to be really close to Crosshair. With the competitions that they had going on, you could tell that there was a strong bond there. And even at the beginning of TBB season 1 when he's hitting Cross with Lula, you can see that close brotherly dynamic. And then all the stuff with Crosshair happened and Wrecker lost that. It would've been a massive blow to suddenly no longer have that presence there. We've seen Wrecker say that he misses Cross, you can hear the heartbreak when he confronts Cross about not trying to come back, and you can hear the hope in his voice when he finds out that Crosshair might have betrayed the Empire. Losing Crosshair was a massive blow, especially for someone who is as emotionally in-tune as Wrecker.

And then season 2. Crosshair isn't there, so we really get to see one his deep connections with another brother: Tech. Him helping Tech at the riot race, him helping Tech during 2x9 even though they had been bickering the whole time, and then him teasing Tech in 2x13. We really got to see the bond between those two this season, which makes it all the more heartbreaking. Wrecker lost Crosshair and then he lost Tech.

And then he lost Omega. We know how close he was with her. He had one of the most prominent connections to her in S1 and even some really sweet moments in season 2. They were incredibly close and now she has been taken as well. Wrecker is having everyone taken away from him and it hurts so much to watch, especially for someone who is as open about their emotions as he is. I just want to give him the biggest hug.

"Yeah. Me too."

And you know what, he probably blames himself as well. He was going to go to grab Tech but it was too unsafe. Tech knew this, that's why he sacrificed himself. But Wrecker was the one to try and grab him and instead he just had to watch his brother fall into the clouds. And then he couldn't protect Omega either. He lost two members of his family in quick succession and he probably blames himself for both of their losses. Everyone does, but with Wrecker especially, he probably believes that he didn't do enough to protect Tech.

Echo

(Fun fact I actually started full on crying while writing this section)

*Deep sigh* Okay. Time to mentally prepare myself for this bit.

Anyone who knows this page will know that I love Echo so much. He is hands down my favourite Batcher and one of my favourite Star Wars characters of all time (along with Rex), so anything sad to do with him is painful to watch. I'm not gonna lie, I think I might actually be handling Tech's "death" better than the scene of Echo alone in the cockpit. I can think of Tech falling and just about hold myself together, but I think about that scene with Echo and it breaks me (although that may also be the denial I am in about Tech).

But enough about my personal feelings on this bit, let's break that scene down.

"I don't enjoy solitude."

Yeah... that somehow hurts even more than it did. He hates being alone and yet instead of going to be with one of the Batchers (e.g. sitting with Wrecker), he chose to go and sit alone on the Marauder. That deep sigh and the despondent look over at the empty chair next to him is one of the hardest things that I have had to watch in this show.

This man has already lost his entire squad. He was there when Droidbait, Cutup and Hevy died. He came back from Skako Minor only to find out that Fives was gone too. He lost the brothers closest to him and now that he's found this second family, he's losing them also. We know how close Echo was with Tech especially. Those two were in sync a lot of the time. We didn't see them together as much this season as we did in season 1, but we have moments like in 2x8 when they are working together to get the information off the Venator. Tech was Echo's partner in crime, much like Fives used to be, and now he's gone as well. As much as I don't want Echo to die, I don't want him to be the last one standing and this is why. Just thinking about how much this must hurt Echo is beyond heartbreaking.

And just because this wasn't sad enough, I'm going to throw another thought out there: Echo feels guilty for not spending more time with the Batch. We don't know for certain, but I definitely wouldn't be surprised if he felt this way. I've spoken before about relating to Echo and seeing a lot of my own feelings reflected in him and this would be one of those moments. I've lost people before who I wish that I had spoken to more. All you can think about is every time that you wish you had just stayed on the phone longer, or said hi when you could, rather than being distracted by other things. Echo probably feels the same way. He spent what was probably over a month with Rex and while we know that it was the right thing for him and the right choice to make, he probably regrets not spending more time with the Batch and with Tech. In that moment, I imagine that he's thinking about many things: Crosshair, Domino Squad, whether he would've been able to spend more time with or even save Fives if he hadn't blown up, and all the time that he spent with Rex that he could've spent with Tech.

Even if you make the right decisions in life, it can still be hard to look back and not regret things. I think that this is one of those things for Echo. He made the right choice in joining the Rebellion but now he's lost Tech and he will never get to spend that time with him again.

Hunter

This is where things might start getting controversial because I seem to disagree with a lot of people about Hunter's reaction to things and by that, I mean that I understand why he reacted the way he did. Now, I want to preface this by saying that me understanding his response doesn't mean that I'm not angry at him on some level ("Understanding you does not mean that I agree with you" *gets sad thinking about tech again*).

I've seen some people saying that Hunter's response was apathetic and out of character for him and I've got to say this... no it wasn't. I find it interesting that a lot of the people that I've seen defending him are (like me) not particularly big Hunter fans. A lot of Hunter stans are going off about how this response doesn't make sense but to me it does. Now this is just speculation, but I wonder how much people's headcanons and perceptions of Hunter started to cloud their idea of who he is as a character. As much as I don't love Hunter, I do recognise the fact that he is a man with a lot of those flaws and those flaws can make him interesting, but I think that some people miss them because they look at him with rose-tinted glasses and see him as the perfect dad. But let's break down why I think Hunter's response makes sense.

I'm not going to lie, when I first heard Hunter say that they were going to get Omega back, my first response was "where was this energy with Crosshair?" and its that response that opens this up for analysis. Hunter wasn't sure if Crosshair needing help was a trap (which I've already said in another post was a valid response), so he was never going to react to Crosshair needing help in the same way as Omega needing it. Yes, it's harsh, but that doubt would've always been there. And Hunter's just lost one of his brothers trying to go back for Crosshair. They have no idea where Hemlock is, they don't actually know what is happening to Crosshair, Hunter has never been 100% certain that the whole situation isn't a trap and now Tech has just died because of it.

Yes, Tech sacrificed himself to not just help the others, but to also help Crosshair, but all that means nothing if they're all dead. Hunter, Omega, Wrecker and Echo just about escaped with their lives and with no information, it didn't seem reasonable to carry on with the mission. They couldn't do it with five of them, how would they manage with four? And you also have to remember that Hunter has a child to worry about. Yes, they could get Crosshair back but that's a very big ask. What happens if another one of them dies? Omega is left alone? All of this needs to be taken into consideration. Making the decision to settle on Pabu was a reasonable choice, even if it hurts to know that Crosshair is going to stay trapped with the Empire.

You can disagree with it, you can be angry at it, you can list all the reasons why Hunter is wrong but you can't ignore all the reasons why Hunter is right either. Like I said, I am also angry at it. But tbf, I think I'm more angry at the situation than I am at Hunter. It took me a few hours to work that out, but I get why Hunter chose what he did. I wanted them to carry on fighting for Crosshair but I also understand why he chose to stay on Pabu. And I also get why he chose to go back for Omega. Yes, she's a child, but he also knows for certain that she is actually in trouble. He could never be sure of that with Crosshair, he knows that Omega is in a situation she didn't choose. It's frustrating, but it makes sense.

And going back to people's perceptions of Hunter, I think some people fail to see that actually, a lot of what Hunter does is with selfish intentions. A lot of it is disguised as things that are for the greater good, and I think he believes that as well, but a lot of his decisions are based on what he feels. Yes, he's the one that is in charge of the squad, but his decisions tend to be more self-centred than some people realise. I think that's why Echo is an interesting addition the the squad. He's not only second in command, but he's also not afraid to push back against Hunter and his decisions; he's more willing to question the sergeant's choices. And I think part of that is from Echo's own stubbornness as well. (Side note: Echo's choices can also be a little self-centred (like when he agrees to going to Coruscant without much discussion) and I acknowledge that). We know that Hunter's choices aren't always what the squad thinks because we see them choosing to vote against his decision in 2x1.

I think that if you really look at Hunter and realise just how flawed he is, and how many of his choices are selfish, it makes sense why he said what he said in this episode. It isn't out of character for him.

However, that's not to say that you can't get angry about it. Hunter's devotion to Omega has caused him to make some weird decisions and at points it can feel like he cares more about her than his brothers. I think a lot of that may be down to the fact that he's never been in this position before and isn't use to what it's like to be a father. Parents can make some odd sacrifices for their children and we may not always agree with them. So while I think it's perfectly reasonable to not like Hunter that much here, I don't think that it's necessarily strange behaviour for him. It's exactly what I'd expect given what we've seen from him up until this point.

Random additional point that I somehow missed: Hunter has now lost half of his squad. Do you realise how much stress that man must be under? He probably feels like a failure, so it makes sense for his initial response to be "let's go and find somewhere safe" and then hitting a breaking point that leads to "we're not losing anyone else" (although that breaking point is also heavily influenced by his selfish thoughts).

Emerie Clone Reveal

Honestly, I don't have a whole lot to say about this bit, just that it kind of fell a bit flat? I have two reasons for why this might be.

We predicted that it would happen. That's not to say that twists like that can't be satisfying, but rather than ending on a shock revelation, it ended on more of a "we know" moment.

I was in such an emotional state over the rest of it that I just didn't care. I had greater concerns at this point so it didn't really hit that hard.

But those are my opinions. I don't know how this scene was for other people, but for me, I don't think it had quite the gravity that they were going for.

Feelings now vs 2x8

This is less of an analysis of the episode itself, but more of a reflection of my own feelings. What surprised me is that even though this episode destroyed me in the moment, I'm weirdly not going through the same "crying every time I think about this episode" moment that I did after episode 8. I really struggle after 2x8. Every time I thought about that final scene I just cried (which led to me trying to pull myself together on the way to lectures before I started sobbing in public). But with the finale... I'm sad but I don't cry about everything? Or at least not the parts that I expected to be in bits over. I can think about Tech falling without bursting into tears, but I think about that 20 second moment with Echo and have to grab the nearest box of tissues.

I think it's because of a mixture of things. One is that I am in denial over Tech's death. I don't believe that he's actually dead and even if I did, then I'd just be more annoyed at weak storytelling than actually being sad about it. Another is that as much as I love Tech, Echo will always mean so much more to me. I connect with Echo on a level that I don't with Tech, so I'm always going to have a stronger emotional reaction to content with him in. I cried so hard when Tech "died" but now I'm having more of a breakdown over Wrecker and Echo's reactions. It's strange, but there are a lot of complicated feelings over this episode.

Summary

...I don't know. There are a lot of thoughts and emotions swirling around with this episode. I do have some criticisms and worries, but I don't think that they're bad episodes. I preferred this season over the last (despite having gripes over the lack of Crosshair and Echo) and I think that the entire team did a really great job.

The ending was always going to be controversial. People have ideas of what they think is going to happen and when that doesn't happen, the default reaction can be "this is bad". I think everyone is just a little bit lost atm, but I'll be interested to see what the consensus is a little bit further down the line. Feelings are very much a mess right now.

But I guess that these are my thoughts for now. Turns out that a lot of my predictions were way off the mark but I'm not mad about it. I'm glad that it didn't go exactly how I expected. I'm a little bit cautious about some story elements moving forward (as mentioned in the rest of the post) but I'm looking forward to where they take this show (preferably more Echo and Cross content).

I've just realised that I didn't say anything about Omega's feelings. Oops. Clearly that's not where my head is at right now.

#feeling many things right now #just in case that wasn't evident from the damn essay that I've just written on the entire thing #I'll probably have more thoughts down the line #and I'll share them when I do #this was a bit rough to get through #mainly because I kept crying over echo #but here are some more in depth thoughts #let me know what you think #especially about some of the more controversial bits of the episodes #we can just all cry together #the bad batch #the bad batch season 2 spoilers #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #tech #echo #hunter #wrecker #omega

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saltydumplings · 2 years

Text

Snippet #18

Cw: suggestive

"You know, when I asked for your help I'm surprised all I had to do was beg."

The villain turned to the other who was sat beside them with interest, arching a brow at the sudden change of topic. "Oh? Were you expecting something more?" they asked.

The hero blushed. "N-No, I just - I mean y-you could have asked me to do, w-well, anything and I wouldn't have had a choice."

A pause.

The villain took a moment to contemplate that - took in the hero's sudden flustered behaviour and the way they couldn't look the villain in the eye anymore, gaze flitting around somewhat nervously; took in the fact that the hero had brought this up themself. It wasn't like the villain had even teased them about it yet... Actually, it was almost as if the hero was trying to remind them about what had happened.

Like the villain could just forget. No, that image would be locked into the villain's mind forever: the hero down on their knees, desperate and so willing to do whatever the villain said, the word please falling from their lips like a mantra. Surely it was the other's lowest moment, having to come to their enemy of all people for help when they knew they couldn't do what was needed alone - having to admit right to the villain's face that they simply weren't powerful enough.

So...why would the hero bring it back up?

The villain stared a moment longer, some slow understanding beginning to dawn upon them.

"Did you think I would ask for something in particular?" they said.

The hero's cheeks grew even redder, hands moving to fiddle with a part of their cape that had gotten burnt during the battle. "What - n-no, I...I was just saying that I was, y-you know, surprised."

The villain narrowed their eyes. "Well, to be surprised you must have had some sort of expectation."

"I mean - of course I-I, um, imagi--guessed at what you might ask."

"And what did you 'guess'?"

"Y-You know, the usual," the hero said, fidgetting a little to the left but the villain pursued them - closing that extra slither of distance before it had even truly opened. "J-Just money and th-the key to the city or...or something."

Another pause. The villain's suspicions of exactly what the hero was trying to say - or, rather, trying not to say - gradually becoming clearer the more they pushed the other to speak.

"So, you're suggesting I should have asked for more?"

The hero glanced back at the villain and then quickly looked away again. "Well...you could have," was all they said.

"So, you wanted me to ask for more?"

"What? N-No! That - that's not, I-I didn't, I mean of course I'm glad you didn't, really, I-- a-and that's not to say I was glad to b-beg, that's not--"

A grin tugged at the corner of the villain's lips as the other rambled on, stumbling over practically every word that left their mouth - nothing truly coherent coming across in their frantic speech other than the very thing they were trying to cover up: the hero was disappointed, and that meant that the villain's feelings weren't quite as unrequited as they'd thought. They inched closer again, this time catching the hero by the waist before they could try to move away. The other cut off whatever they were saying, turning to the villain with wide eyes.

"Hero, what did you think I would ask for?"

For the first time in the past few minutes the hero fell silent, biting down on their lower lip as they tried to look away but the villain caught their chin and forced their gaze back to them - not allowing the other to escape so easily.

"Better yet," the villain said, "what did you want me to ask for?"

Still the hero didn't say a word though their eyes momentarily flicked down to stare at the villain's lips before quickly looking back up again. And that was all the answer the villain needed to lean forward, more than ready to claim that which they had desired for months now - so certain that they would never get something more than--

The hero stopped them.

"W-We can't," they said.

The villain frowned, pulling back slightly at the sudden denial. "Why not?"

The hero stared down at the ground, looking equally displeased. "The agency wouldn't allow it. If anyone ever found out I - I'd be out of a job."

"Because I'm a villain?"

"No, just," the hero motioned vaguely with their hands, searching for the right words. "They don't like us to have relationships of that kind. They say they're messy - bad for press."

"What, so you're not allowed to--?"

"No."

"Not even--?"

"Nope."

Well, that was hardly fair. Surely they couldn't just stop the hero like that - the hero should be free to do what they wanted with whoever they wanted: the agency shouldn't have a say in it at all. But, with how serious the hero was taking it, the villain guessed there must have been something more there to hold them back. They also came to realise the true nature of the hero's disappointment: it wasn't just because the villain hadn't asked for more, it was because they felt an opportunity had been lost - an excuse to pursue something that they couldn't any other way.

"I-I'm sorry," the hero said, the slightly awkward silence that had fallen between them clearly too much for them to bear. "I knew I shouldn't have brought it up - it was stupid a-and I don't even know what I was-- I mean I guess I was curious to see if you, you know, b-but clearly you do and now we can't - I-I knew we couldn't so it wasn't--"

"A month," the villain said.

The hero stopped and cocked their head to the side, confused. "What?"

"Give me a month and I'll create something that could threaten the entire city."

"Oh, um...o-okay?"

The villain took the hero's hands in their own then and the other blushed as a small kiss was placed upon the back of their palm.

"Nothing and no one will be able to stop me, and there will only be one thing in the whole world that can appease me enough to surrender." The villain leaned closer once more, whispering lowly in the hero's ear. "I will have you, Hero. And next time I promise that I will ask you to do far more than beg..."

#writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #hero x villain #heroxvillain #hero #villain

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chaifootsteps · 8 months

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The issues with Stella are so goddamn easy to fix it's actually painful any time she comes on screen and they have to find a way to bend over backwards to make her as unlikable as possible to artificially prop Stolas up as well as avoid the classism plot that THEY WROTE INTO THE SHOW.

Just establish very clearly AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SHOW that both of them were okay with the other sleeping around (since neither liked each other and neither wanted to get married) but have Stella get mad specifically because Stolas was caught sleeping with an imp, and that reflects badly on her. If you want her to be a villain, you don't need her to be cartoonishly evil and completely bereft of personality and likeability beyond bitch (derogatory) even as a child; she can just be classist and obsessed with status. (Also maybe don't make her stupid? Maybe don't have her creepy incest-vibes brother around at all? Give her some agency as a villain, you know? Maybe let her be funny? MAYBE LET HER TALK TO HER FUCKING DAUGHTER ON SCREEN?)

But fixing Stella would force the show to actually acknowledge the classism that they've set up and have been trying to ignore in lieu of writing fluff one shots of their favorite ships. And it sucks because she could be a really, really interesting and entertaining lens into how the upper-crusts of this setting actually behave. She SHOULD HAVE BEEN the face of that plot. If you want her to be this evil scheming funny girlboss bitch (affectionate), LET HER BE ONE. Hell, she can even be sympathetic and redeemable if you play up the fact that her behavior comes from a fear of being othered by the Goetia.

As a side note, why are arranged marriages even a thing when divorce exists and vice versa? If it's a eugenics thing for blue bloods why is marriage even a factor when they could just have the kids without it? If they're immortal outside of specific weaponry why do they need heirs in the first place? How DID Striker get all of his angelic weapons? How did Stella even meet Striker, who HATES the upper classes? Why does Striker even work for her when she's the ONE CHARACTER explicitly shown in-canon to embody the things he hates about the system at large?

I guess my point is that fixing Stella's writing would kind of cascade out into actual worldbuilding, stakes, more screen time for female characters, and more coherent better-constructed plots so Spindlehorse won't do it because they want to focus exclusively on a middling romance between two characters who have ZERO CHEMISTRY. If they wanted to focus on that, great, but why on EARTH did they set up all of this other shit? Season one set up conflict and interest and season two has done nothing but blue-ball me by dangling those plot threads in front of me and yanking it away at the last possible second. I WANT the show to be good, but it desperately needs better editing at the script level which I am CONVINCED only goes through one draft and are written several weeks apart.

ALSO THE LATEST EPISODE GAVE ME MOTION SICKNESS WHY WAS THE CAMERA MOVING SO MUCH WHEN THE CHARACTERS WERE STATIC HOW MUCH BUDGET AND TIME GOT WASTED WITH THE UNNECESSARY FUCKING SHAKY CAM?

(Sorry for dropping this huge chunk of text on you, it was supposed to just be about Stella originally but holy fuck that last episode made me nauseous and I got a bit carried away.)

No apologies needed; it was an excellent chunk of text.

Stella deserved better, and we as an audience deserved better, which isn't to say she needs to be redeemable or even likeable. But she does need to be human...to do something outside of scream and drink wine and exist. She needs to do more than just prop up the show's main ship. Give her something she thinks about, cares about, and like you said, let her talk to her fucking daughter.

Nothing about this shaky-cam show makes sense or feels fleshed out. Agreed completely that there's no way it's going through multiple drafts, and the longer these 30 car pileups of plot holes and characterization problems continue to go on, the closer the show gets to a point where no amount of revising is going to save it.

#Anonymous #hb stella #Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss critical #vivziepop critical #actual blog post

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birdmenmanga · 7 months

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please talk more about chobits. i am so mentally ill about this show

okay disclaimer that I've never watched the Chobits anime and I've only read the manga. I dunno if they changed any important details but I doubt they changed anything too major (maybe I should check the anime out at some point?)

Usually I like to format my essays in a coherent post but whatever. That's too hard rn. I'm just going to write about it in no particular order with no screencaps of the manga to prove my point you guys are just gonna have to take my word for it

I think it's SO funny that like. The huge dilemma at the end centered around android facial recognition. Like yes this series was written like 20 years ago and yeah it was writing about a time that's basically our present day, and technology has advanced impossibly fast that even their imagined cutting-edge technology looks horribly outdated at this point.

Without the ability to recognize each other, we will only ever be objects. When a robot can recognize your face, only then can love ever be possible. Hideki, did you know you just opened up a whole new world of data scraping and targeted advertising in your universe?

I don't really blame CLAMP though. I think it was never really about robots as technology but rather robots as a reflection of humanity. Like Minoru, who built a Persocom modeled after his sister who passed away in order to cope with his grief, like the baker who loved his old Persocom so much he married her... it's a story dreaming about human connection, how we're always longing for relationships.

Mixed feelings about Chi's backstory with Freya Ichiro and Chitose. On one hand it's very touching that these two scientists just straight up built their own daughters, and naturally they would build their daughters with the ability to love, and it REALLY feels in character (where the character is the field of computer science) and they would forget about biases in the computer's collected data (daily experiences of their robot daughters) that Freya would accidentally fall in love with Ichiro. That's so plausible it hurts. I also think it's mildly funny/heartbreaking that Freya's grief made her fucking shut down like here's that weird intersection between technology and personhood of androids like girl what!! you're like oh no my android is shutting down because of an endlessly recursive loop... ok then close the loop??? edit your daughter's code??? You are literally the only doctors for her in the world? you're just going to let her die like this?????

By the way I don't know if I'm using the correct names for everyone but I'm sure you can figure out who I'm talking about based on context anon

While I think that ^^^ whole thing is sad but also hilarious in a kind of narmy way, I do think that Minoru and the baker's story were excellently executed and are genuinely heartbreaking. The baker's story most of all. I cry every time I read the part where the press is harassing him and asking him about his dead wife and he goes "Stop it. Stop referring to her as 'my wife' or 'my android'. She had a name, and it was Yumi." That was sooo good bestie I go insane every single time... like that IS so terribly realistic, like you can say it's a metaphor for dementia where the person you love can no longer remember who you are, or who they are for that matter, but it's also such a real facet of technological decay where eventually... no matter how much you love a feature, or a machine, or an app, or a whatever... these are all things that are built and maintained by others. And one day that maintenance will stop. And one day it'll go down forever.

Minoru's story too... when Yuzuki (Yukari? I forgor :skull:) tries to hack into the government database by herself and almost gets shut down he gets really mad at her and she goes "sorry I know I'm supposed to be your dead sister and you would be super heartbroken if i died again I'll be more careful" and he goes "no man like yeah you did start off as a horrible coping mechanism but you're a new person now, with your own life experiences and not just a copy of my sister, you matter to me because you're you, not because you're a replacement for someone"

I think that's a theme that comes up a lot, actually. I think this series is meant to address the fear that technology will replace humans not only in terms of jobs and stuff, but even in terms of human connection and affection. Why love me when you can love your perfect android wife who will never argue back? And I think the answer that the series provides is, is that really the horrible future you think it is? Because the truth is that humans are capable of love, capable of so much love... we love and we lose and we love again, we pack bond with just about anything out there... is that really such a horrible thing?

Conceptually I think it's interesting, but once again, I feel like CLAMP's vision failed to accurately account for how technology actually is in real life. The amount of data harvesting that needs to be done, likely unconsensually, is insane, and probably renders this whole operation deeply unethical on a level that they didn't even consider. Yeah I think it's great that we can love robots and that we can make robots that love us back. Not in our capitalist hellscape though.

I haven't read it recently, but I don't think there was ever a point that I felt like the pacing of the story was bad. Yeah, there are a ton of detours and side stories, but they all felt very relevant to the main story.

I know it's like. Chi's story or whatever. But also it feels like Hideki is also sidelined sometimes. It sometimes feels like he was just a necessary component to get this story to work, and without Chi he isn't anything (he's just ken kind of vibe). He's never brought up in CLAMP's other stories while Chi is (multiple times, even! TRC and Kobato I believe), even though the Chobits story is from his perspective. i dunno lol

I also think the art of Chobits is gorgeous. Among CLAMP's works I think it's probably second place, after Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle (thought I might be forgetting some; it's not like I have a definitive ranking LOL) and tied with Angelic Layer

#asks #anonymous #chobits #clamp

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jeannereames · 15 days

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where would i be able to read your monograph? especially about the ‘you are nothing without me’ incident

The Protracted Reality of Writing Academic Shit 😂

First, and assuming the asker means my Hephaistion-Krateros book, the quick answer is: It’s still in process, not even close to being in print. In the meantime, a number of my articles are available on academia-edu.

Now, to explain why the book is “still in process,” let me explain the monograph writing progression. IME, the average person uninvolved in academia is often surprised by the sheer complexity and time involved. (After all, why would you know if you don't need to?)

Below, I talk only about academic monographs, although I’ve also edited academic collections, and of course, have published a number of articles. I started to tackle fiction publishing too, but that quickly devolved into a long-ass post (even for me), so I’m sticking only to the topic the asker requested. It's long enough! Maybe I’ll do fiction later, assuming anybody wants to read that. (If so, put it in an ask.)

To write an academic book in the humanities typically takes years. There are several stages just to produce the initial manuscript, never mind getting it into print. I’ll outline the general process below, using my current project to illustrate the steps. One thing I’ve found consistently among both students and non-academics is utter surprise at just how extensive research/writing is. New grad students often think writing a thesis/dissertation is akin to writing a really long term paper. Oh, no. You will write it, submit it, get critique and feedback, go research some more and revise it, get critique and feedback, go and research yet more and revise it again … rinse and repeat. How long? Until it’s cooked. There’s not a set timeframe. It will always take longer than you expect. Always. I’ve been teaching grad students almost 25 years. I have yet to have any require less time than they first assumed.

Writing a monograph (including the thesis/dissertation, which is a type of monograph) is one of the toughest forms of academic writing. Papers/articles are much easier, and not just because they’re shorter, although that’s some of it. They also generally have a simpler point. They’re proving ONE thing, like a string.

A monograph presents a coherent, complex argument like a rope woven from several strings (the chapters). It’s not an edited collection by multiple authors in a single volume (or two), or even a collection of various essays by a single author. Collections may have a general topic, like, say, Macedonian Legacies (the collection we did for Gene Borza), or the one I’m editing now, Macedon and It’s Influences. Just trying to figure out a decent order for the varied papers can prove a challenge in these. If some of the papers actually do bear on each other … bonus! But the papers aren’t necessarily expected to come together at the end in any cogent way. A monograph’s concluding chapter should, however, bring together the chapters into a solid conclusion, like the arch’s capstone, holding it all together.

Yet the researcher may not know the answer to that until done with much of the research. After reading everything, and considering it, she may wind up in a different place from where she started. Like any good, responsible research, the researcher must be prepared to follow the data and facts, not cram them into a preconceived notion. I’ve changed some of my ideas and goals for my current monograph, as I no longer think I can do the project I originally intended because the nature of the sources get in the way too much. But I have a more interesting project as a result.

The first phase is research: pretty much for any academic field, period. How this progresses, and how quickly, varies with the individual, field, and topic. Furthermore, some of us are planners (that’s me), others are pantsers (e.g., they dive in and figure it out as they go: by the seat of the pants). But we all start with a question or observation, then go out to track down information about it. In history, sometimes we just read the primary sources/archival material and see what we find. Something strikes us, so we go on to read more, which produces either refined questions or entirely new ones.

Right now, I’m finishing up the initial stages of the research. Then I’ll start work on the chapters, which, yes, I’ve outlined as a result of my initial research. But those chapters may (and probably will) morph as I write them. It’s during the writing phase that the other, “attendant” research comes into play: chasing down all the references in other secondary sources for smaller points. Rabbit-hole time.

My initial research tends to be more measured. I read a while, stop to think—sometimes do stuff like write replies to asks on Tumblr while my brain churns. 😉 Then I go back and read some more. But the writing phase is where I can lose all track of time while running down just-one-more-citation-then-I’ll-stop. The last time I looked at a clock it was 3pm and now it’s 9pm, I’m weak with hunger, I really have to pee because I’m drinking too much tea, and the cats are mad because I’ve not fed them in hours. 😆 It’s two really different types of research for me.

Anyway, for the initial (pre-writing) stage, there are really two substages. The first is what I think of as archival work: e.g., getting down and dirty with the original (primary) sources, including digging into the Greek and Latin to see what it actually says, and if there’s something noteworthy in the phrasing. At this point, I may not really know what I’m looking for, except in the broadest sense. For my current project, I collected every single mention of Hephaistion and Krateros in the original sources. For all five ATG bios, I read them front to back, tagging all sorts of things, plus large chunks of important other books (e.g., the first part of book 18 of Diodoros, the extant fragments of Arrian’s After Alexander, plus a couple bios, esp. Plutarch’s Eumenes, etc.) in order to get a FLOW, not just collect things piecemeal. There are some passages that may not name Hephaistion or Krateros specifically, but they would include them. Piecemeal will always be incomplete, like trying to see a clear image in a broken mirror (a mistake I made with my dissertation, in fact, but I was young).

Then I assembled all that collected data on huge sheets, arranged by author for each man, so I can cross-reference and compare. I also did a deep-dive across 4 days, grabbing everything in Brill’s New Jacoby (BNJ), so I can also tag the original (lost) author cited in our surviving sources, where we know who it is. Not actually that many, but it’s useful and can prove significant. I want to see where the same information, or anecdote, crosses sources, and how it changes.

All of that (except adding the BNJ entry #s to my big sheets) is now done. The next step is figuring out what it all means. For that—and where I am right now—involves historiographic reading/rereading of secondary sources on the ancient authors. What is Curtius’s methodology? Arrian’s? Plutarch’s? What are the themes of each? What is the story they’re telling? They’re not just cut-and-pasters from the original (now lost) histories; they have agendas. What are they? How do Hephaistion and Krateros fit into those agendas? How do the sources use them? This is, to me, the really interesting piece.

It's also why this book will not be just a cleaned-up version of my dissertation, but a completely new look at Hephaistion, and now Krateros too. I haven’t even consulted my old dissertation chapters. I started over from scratch. Sure, I remember my main conclusions, and as I write, I’m sure I’ll go back to check things, but the same as I’d check anybody else’s.

I’d hoped to start writing by May, but I’m not quite there yet, in part because, between the Netflix series plus helping to write/edit a grant that I didn’t expect to have to do, I lost virtually all of February. Now, about half of April has been eaten by home repair/yard stuff plus small family crises. That’s just the nature of a sabbatical, especially if you don’t have a spousal unit or SO to take care of everything for you while you just write. 😒

Now I hope to start writing by mid/late May. But as this 9th International ATG Symposium is looming in early September, plus I go back to teaching in the fall, I’ll have to knock off by the end of July, if not sooner. Ergo, not a long writing time. I can do some more during winter break, but I probably won’t have a draft done until next summer. If I’m lucky. It is just not possible, at least for me, to write while teaching! As I do plan to present at least one (startling!) piece of my research as the ATG conference, I have a concrete deadline for a subchapter bit. Ha.

So, what happens after a draft is done? Well, if one is smart, one finds a reader or three. One just to read it for sense, but (if possible) another specialist to start poking holes in the arguments, noting secondary sources one forgot, and to offer general pushback in order to refine it all. This assumes your friends/colleagues actually have time to look at it, as they, also, are teaching and writing their own stuff. (I’ll go after my retired colleagues.) At the same time, one may also begin seeking an academic publisher.

It’s important to match the project to what the publisher is already publishing. It can also help, but isn’t necessary, to have an in: somebody known to/trusted by the editor of one’s broad field (ancient history, in my case) who can vouch for the scholarship. Submitting means writing up a summary of the work, perhaps including letters from colleagues/readers, etc., etc. I’m not even close to this stage yet, so I’m primarily going by the experiences of friends. At this point, it starts to dovetail a bit with fiction publishing. You’re on the hunt and do some of the same homework.

Once a publishing house requests the manuscript, they’ll farm it out to 2-3 readers to evaluate. This is the “refereed” part, as the readers will be specialists in the field. The publisher, who can’t be a specialist in everything, may ask for a list of names for these potential readers.

As with academic papers/book chapters, the book will come back from these readers with a vote on publishability, plus suggestions for improvement. The basic choices range from, “Go back to the drawing board; this has major issues and here they are” (e.g., not ready yet for publication). To, “It’s got good bones but here are improvements on chpts X and X, oh, and go read ___ works you forgot,” (e.g., revise and resubmit). To, “this is pretty solid as-is but could use a few more things” (e.g., revise but ready for a contract). You will NEVER get a “Publish it right now.” 🤣 It’s hard to say how much time this revising phase will take, as it depends entirely on the level of revisions requested. This is why it’s often wise to find a reader or three in advance, to make this phase less lengthy. Yes, books do sometimes get turned down entirely, with no “revise-and-resubmit,” but more often it’s one of the three above. And yes, sometimes an author may be unwilling to make the requested changes, so finds a different publisher, with different readers, hoping for a more positive outcome. Sometimes, with the revising stage, there’s a non-binding contract involved, but this seems to be usefully mostly for younger scholars who need some sort of proof for their RPT (Reappointment, Promotion and Tenure) committees.

Once a publisher gets a manuscript they believe is worthy, the author receives a (real) contract and is provided with in-house editors to fix grammar, sense, etc.: copy- and line-editing. What would (in fiction) be called “developmental editing” is what the refereed part entailed. This is the simple part. Getting TO the contract stage is the tough part.

The publishing house will then schedule the book with a publication date and discuss things like page-proofs, cover art, permissions, formatting, etc., including indexing, which most publishers either don’t do, or charge a high fee for. It’s almost always cheaper to hire an indexer separately. I’ve already got mine lined up for the Hephaistion-Krateros book. But that can’t be done until it’s typeset and through page-proofs as one needs, yeah, the page numbers. Ha. From contract to the book hitting shelves can take a full year, or more.

So, with the exception of those folks who are just writing machines, the average monograph is c. 5+ years, at least in the humanities. This assumes the luck to get a sabbatical, not trying to do it all crammed into summers or breaks.

So yes, I’m still a couple years from this book seeing print. And that assumes there’s not a lengthy revise-and-resubmit process because my readers don’t like my conclusions.

#asks #Hephaistion #Krateros #monograph on Hephaistion and Krateros #Hephaestion #Alexander the Great #writing an academic monograph #academic publishing #Macedonian Court

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