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hellowoolf · 5 months

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on strawberries and masonry: chapter ii

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company

you live in jackson and meet joel and you’re both damaged little babies and fall in love (but i’m drawing this shit out🫶🫶)

warnings: angst, age gap (reader late 20s/early 30s, joel 50s), a little bit of blood/gore (at the very end), scars (NOT self inflicted), knives, mention of stitches, mention of masturbation (if i left out any, let me know!)

word count: 2.9k

authors note: thank you guys SO MUCH for all your kindness on chapter i. writing this story thus far has been cathartic and challenging and wonderful. i hope you enjoy this next chapter🤍

series masterlist | masterlist

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you don’t think of the people you worked with before jackson. out of self preservation or self suffocation or some amalgamation of the two, you let the whole of them go, frozen over and pieced off into nothing by the town and your garden and the little house you took up. on your path to the stables, wind curling about your torso and squeezing there, you can admit that you loved them, and this was your greatest concession. still, with trembling fingers you’d let the thing go, out a half-open window somewhere within you, and starved yourself the satisfaction of the remembering. now, though, coming up on the stables and knowing joel waits for you there, you think of the softness of them, which survived in spite of the killing, and suddenly you’re reeling in the line you cast when you hauled the memory of them over.

you walk through the great doorway of the barn. the line of joel’s back shakes a little as he tightens something on his horse’s saddle, and the hardness of it makes you quiet and hot between your legs, a wanton thing that reaches for him, but you are certain it would be the reaching that scares him from you forever. his hulking figure casts a long shadow, and you feel it grazing your ankles as you saddle your own horse, but still he is as terrified as he was when you first met him, perhaps now more so in the face of his residence here. by his gait and the jerk of his movements you determine the permanence of jackson disquiets him some. it’s your first patrol with him, and so in the early morning light you allow his terror to consume you to make no room for your own.

the patrol is silent, save for the give of snow under your horses, though this is unsurprising to you. you seek out silence, or have sought it, at least, but you find the quiet unbearably difficult with him, what with the warm wood of his eyes and the carving of his silhouette. the fire of him, which he wraps his arms around in a frantic sort of way, catches on you when your horses drift together, and so you mind the gap between your paths and time your glances towards him.

despite yourself and all the rest, the time passes quickly. you return your horses to the stables, again in silence (forever in silence, it seems) and walk together in a staggered sort of synchronization towards the dining hall.

but he sits with you, here.

surely, he’s no less comfortable with you than the rest of the town, who have filled the tables now, and so you figure he resigns to your company in favor of the unthinking of it. the weight of him next to you presses at your stomach and you constrict with it, your mouth swallowing around your tongue, and your thighs make to wrap around one another because still, you want him to touch you. you do your best, at his shoulder while you both eat, to pull the sweetness of your wanting from around your neck and wrists, but it refuses to extract itself. you suppose if joel can yield to your closeness, you can do as much for the lust, but immediately regret drawing any sort of comparison between you. you think again of the group before jackson, and your heaving of the creature of them into an ocean like blurriness and a faint sort of penitence, but the line of yourself has run out, and so the wanting of joel stays ashore with you.

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you haunt the garden later in the evenings, now that your mornings are spent in the cold, looking silence of joel, and the soil is cooler in your palms then. your strawberry came and went, the vines of it flowering and fruiting into sugar and seed, and perhaps it’s the chilled hands of the twilight along your sides, but you can’t help a selfishness with them. you’d left a basket of them in your kitchen before stalking back to the planter boxes tonight, and even in the dirt that touches you like a baptism you are glad for this sweet little monopoly. all the rest of your garden you’d given, nearly willingly, to the dining hall for eating; a thankless sacrifice you took sated pleasure in, believing only the soft and good could be capable of such a donation. but the strawberries are yours, you decide, to eat or let rot or preserve in resin like flowers.

as you scoop in the last palmful of new soil into the planter box, you sense joel’s little creature, in all her skittishness, contemplating coming into the greenhouse. she watches your fruits in the daytime, you know, with or without you, inspecting how the greens and reds of things come along. like joel she is silent, and like you she measures her distance. you turn your head, and she’s watching her reflection in the door.

“you can come in, ellie, i’m almost done,” you call through the glass, shifting back to your cucumbers. she moves only when you aren’t looking.

“that one’s fucking ugly.”

your spine stiffens and locks in place. it’s the first full sentence she’s ever given, and the sound grabs right below your collarbone. the profanity of it, and the mundanity, too, unspools something within you. ellie came back to jackson even more vicious than when you’d first met her, though her face was made new with a sort of vacantness now, and the whole of it resembles the youth of you from years ago. but she’s talking to you, suddenly, about the cucumber by your left hand, which hangs hideously misshapen, and your fingers tremble in the dirt with the leadened weight of her effort.

“yeah, yeah,” and you smile a little, but keep your head turned, “it’s pretty grisly.” you hear her swishing responses on her tongue, and from your shoulders down to your forearms drips the yawning need to make her a vegetable and protect her in mulch. the sins of your adolescence, done by and to you, remain a plague to you, and you feel as though ellie is your chance to mend them (a selfish thought, a selfish thought). you know that to indict her as your adolescent self is an accusation too unfair to voice, but all the same you find yourself looking for forgiveness in her in a gasping kind of way. the gasping pushes the words out.

“you can help me in here, if you want. i could show you how i take care of everything.” and you do look at her, now, a leaf standing at your back, but her eyes are probing over the soil along your fingers. it strikes you that she’s smart enough to figure you wear the dirt to be cleansed, and you think it’s in this figuring that she steps closer to you.

“yeah.” but she doesn’t kneel, yet. “but not tonight.”

you nod. “okay, not tonight.”

and you don’t say it with any resemblance of conclusiveness, but nonetheless she takes it like goodbye, backing out the greenhouse doors and absorbing again into the night.

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weeks go by like this. you brave the snow, unprotected and newly fallen, with joel at daybreak, and let him follow you into the dining hall like you don’t think about how his cock would feel. the brutish quiet of him eases none, but in the evenings you help ellie (coarse as anything, but a tender thing) care for the things growing in your garden. this you do in silence, too, but it’s a filling sort of stillness that strikes you as a gift.

you feel less venomous than you used to. joel, the selfish violence of whom bares itself in his posture, makes you something soft and yielding. even against the rushing water of your wanting of him and his neglect of you, you return to the stables every morning like a pull upstream for the knowing that you aren’t doomed for hell alone. and ellie, now, has become a harbinger of your caring, and you’re reminded of the ease with which you used to love. you loved, once, and to be faced again with this loving is a sanitizing pain you relish in. walking home from the greenhouse in what must’ve been the very early hours of the morning, you brush your dirtied hands down your jeans and drop your brutality to hang loosely at your side.

you’re a few yards from your porch when you see him standing there, hands warming in his pockets and his shoulders strung up by his ears. the night clings to joel, dark accumulating on his shoulders and broadening him further, but he’s scuffing the toe of his boot back and forth against the wood of the deck and you have half a thought to hold him. it’s a horrific thing you slice through immediately.

“can i help you?” and it comes out a little unkind, pained as you are to speak with him, but you find you mean it sincerely.

“uh,” pause, “yeah.” the cold snaps at you, but you know if you see him inside your home you’ll never sleep again, so you do not invite him in. “i was…well,” pause, he’s pausing, “well, i was noticin’ ellie comes by to your greenhouse.”

sometime in the last few seconds you’ve found your way in front of him, the bass and scratch of his voice tugging desperately at you. you nod a little. his eyes will kill you, surely. “mhm. she’s not…” and you let a breath of a laugh out through your nose, “she’s not a natural, really. but i like having her there.” and then, “she seems to enjoy it.”

he nods back at you, the swing of his head cautious while he keeps his eyes tilted down to yours. the moon peeks through his curls in silver pillars. “and she’s been okay?”

there’s a worry in it, in him, that startles you, an unknowing you’re unused to. you hum to comfort the both of you. “yeah, i think so. she doesn’t really speak to me, but i don’t mind it.”

you know you’ve made a mistake as soon as you say it in the way his eyebrows pull together. you see, through and across his eyeline, his own refusal to speak on your patrol rounds; it stands in the space between you now, and he crosses his arms over his chest to push it further off him.

“you don’t mind it.” and he’s only parroting you, really, but his question sinks to the ground at your feet. what about my silence? do you mind that?

“no, i guess i don’t.”

a pocket of silence passes through the both of you, rigid, and then he sucks on his front teeth, jerking like he’s made a decision and walking past you, back down your porch steps. “i’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he mumbles out as he goes, but you’re choking on the leathered scent of him, and so you offer nothing in return.

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“why d’you work in the garden?”

daybreak had come as a surprise to you, the dawn reaching through your curtains to paw at your floorboards. still, the habit of your days lets you float unmindful through the morning, and so you’d mounted your horse and slipped out the gates with joel with little pomp and circumstance. but now you’re squeezing your horse’s reins through the lines of your palms and willing yourself not to tip off the saddle. you’re shuddering, now, because he is talking to you, he is talking to you. and the flames of him, of that voice and of those hands (you aren’t religious but you pray about the hands) are released from the hold he’s kept on them, extending to lick down your spine. and you want him, desperately and unrecognizably.

“i don’t really know.” your own answer disappoints you, for how much you’re affected by the asking. the squeak of his gloves scratches behind your eyeline. he’s never ridden next to you; the rhythm of his horse stays behind the line of your shoulder, always.

“did you…” and you can hear he’s considering scrapping the whole thing, defaulting again to the quiet, “did you garden? before?”

“i didn’t do much of anything before.” you run your fingers through your horse’s mane. “i was eight on outbreak day.” you don’t know why you add this part.

“jesus.”

you can only nod. “what did you do?”

he considers your question and kicks into his horse a little, finally, mercifully, lining you up side by side so you can see his face. he doesn’t look at you, but the side of him devastates you just as much. “i was a contractor.” he grunts, at you or the memory of it you’re unsure. “y’know, fixin’ houses and la-”

“i know what a contractor is.”

he’s hardening and you’re watching it happen, but you don’t think you can help it. “christ, you were a kid,” and he starts gesturing with his hand now, “i figured…” but you never find out what he figures; he lets the end of the sentence brush away with the wave of his hands. you think of him, last night on your porch, and the way he’d searched so earnestly in you for pieces of his little creature, who might not be as much his as you had thought.

“you’re welcome in the greenhouse, too. you can see how ellie trims the plants and things.” he turns his face fully to you then, examining you, you think for the first time. joel��s eyes bump around and poke at the space you take up, noting where you end and begin, and though he lets you watch him think, he takes great care to tuck the thoughts away from you. even still, it makes your cunt throb beneath you and you look for your own embarrassment, but it slips between your fingers. you grin at him a little, instead. again you cannot help it, you cannot help yourself with him. “you can always help out, too, if you want.” and then, “but if you manhandle any of the plants i won’t let you back.”

he lets out a breath that sounds like amusement, but only just. regardless, it fogs in front of his face. “manhandle?”

and he’s giving you something here, by entertaining your jab at him, but you don’t know what to name it. your little grin grows curious; he’s surprising you. “yeah, they’re delicate. you have to be gentle or i’ll kick you out.”

he turns back from you to the road in front of him, but you make out the slight pull of his cheek into what could almost be the twitch of a smile. it’s gone in an instant. “alright. no manhandlin’.” and then, mostly to himself, “scouts honor.”

“okay then.”

he hums, low and stilted, and that’s the end of it. and, really, it shouldn’t shock you as it does that joel drawls like tommy, but still you bask in how he sips on his words, all honey and southern heat. the rest of your patrol falls into silence again, the elastic of the moment snapped back into place, but you remain tacky with the stick of the accent and the shapes of his voice.

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everything is muted around you, and you’re halfway shocked to find yourself running. your mark focuses ahead of you. someone is screeching your name behind your head, but you don’t dare look.

the thing you’re chasing is human. it moves like it’s new, but the size of it slugs ahead in the whole expanse of your vision. your father’s knife tethers you to its handle and you ready it in your hand.

and the killing is easy, your body suddenly pressed against the back of this poor creature, who gurgles its life out as you twist your knife in its neck. it should disgust you, and it does not, and there is nothing else to say about it.

the world falls away, then. you’re alone and the knife has been kicked from you. a deep gash traces down your bicep. the wound begins to grow, stretching from your arm to the whole of your chest, and your body is consumed, gone, gone, gone, eaten up by the hurt and the blood and the unseemly edge of skin, and

you’re awake. a bead of sweat drips a line down your neck as you heave in place. you look down, the scar covered by your right hand, which claws at it and holds it still. you go long stretches without thinking of this mark, what with the cold of jackson and the sleeves you wear; the forgetting is blissful, and the remembering nearly reopens it. you unlock the vice grip of your hand on your arm to inspect the stitching, still jagged all these years later, the seam of you raised into something like healed. and yes, the mark of your stitches remembers that someone had attempted to put you back together. but the bulk of the tissue, which healed over by way of pure spite and refusal to die, feels a lot like an indictment. alone in your bed, you clasp your hands together, and plead that god is as cruel as you have been, so she may take pity on you.

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chapter ii !! i KNOW these conversations between our little gardener and joel are tense but she’s trying and he’s trying and it will all come to a head soon i PROMISE ! hope you liked it :)🍓🤍

taglist: @koshkaj-blog (if anyone wants to be added let me know!!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #on strawberries and masonry #jackson!joel #fem!reader

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justlet-melive · 6 months

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here’s a question :3 uh do you have like any favourite anatomy or reference books/texts. or any tips for doing study’s??

sorry if this is like annoying or weird idk i’ve just been a little obsessed with your art lately. the way you capture shape and movement is so fantastic. you have such a talent for capturing characters personality through visual quirks too. idk like the way you draw ellie tlou is so specific. it’s not exactly on model but it’s kind of better lol. i can instantly tell most of what you need to know about her. same with your recent astarions like idk you’ve just managed to capture a real physicality about him that i think can be hard. idk i’m maybe biased but i think without any exposure to the game you could probably guess how he moves and sounds from your art.

idk uh sorry if this is worded weird i feel like i always do that LOL okay though anyways i adore your art it’s just so distinct. i’d eat it if i could. i’d honestly do a lot to capture even a fraction of the magic you’re creating. okay hope this message finds you well BYE

no need to feel self conscious about doing me a kindness in the form of gratifying to read, thoughtful observations of my fanart!!!!

thank you. very late response because i wanted to respond with some equally thoughtful advice and also let my ego calm down a bit, but..

im 'lazy' and like to keep drawing for fun as easy as possible. So i dont have any reference books hm... You obviously look at art and are able to relay to yourself and others what you saw and felt. thats the skill you should always indulge. looking at all kinds of things youre drawn to and observing why. best ref! (thanks again btw, best feeling being on the receiving end of that. to be... astarion voice: Seen in the Eyes of Another)

I have studied (and continue to do so when i get the chance) figure drawing at my community college, which was a big leap. i ended up focusing a lot on the relationship between the ribcage/pelvis/flow of the spine at that time. still my favorite part of drawing lol. During my most recent artblock i started copying muscle anatomy pages from a Morpho book as a way to keep drawing without a proper fixation. which is great because i also love the weight of flesh :^D

if you'd like my 'woo-woo advice' it's to get lost in the process and less invested in the results. and never be embarrassed. it'll keep you drawing (behind every piece of successful fanart is a mountain of scrap drawings of Fictional Guy #2378 facing 3/4 left.) and its meditative!! cathartic? personally i like to have a song/playlist to keep up the emotion im trying to work out going throughout my drawing session. helps me tell if the expression im drawing feels 'right'

and on the topic of drawing off model--!! Anytime im onto a new character i do spend a few sessions tracing their proportions/copying their models. after i figure out more or less what about their original design makes that Character i like to lose the training wheels. artistic interpretation is more interesting for me to look at and create. and i think it frees you up to better convey a feeling. the more you draw something the more you settle into 'what works' but i never set out to draw the same way twice! usually never anyway

thank you again for taking time to observe my drawings, and relaying back what you saw and felt. it honestly makes my day(s) to the point i almost feel guilty about it

#i am not a succinct person #my real advice is just have the same fanart drawing hobby for ur entire life

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crestfallercanyon · 4 months

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Hi! 💖 7, 12, 21 for Mickey or Ian (or both if you feel like it!)

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask, these are fun questions! Um, I did try to answer for both on each which made this fucking LONG (so I put a break because I don't want to flood people's dashes because I'm also rambly lol) so my apologies. Hopefully they're fun answers!

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I give a kiss to all the gif makers who make gifsets of how these two have been looking at each other for years. Especially Ian, to be honest. I mean, the fact that Ian was SO smitten in the beginning, when he was still floppy haired and freckle-faced and the squishy little smile he has ALL THE WAY to the way he gets so excited when he says "now?" at the altar?

Mickey, too -- there's not many times where Mickey looks adoringly at anything other than Ian. And there's really no other word for the way he kind of holds Ian in his regard, he adores him. It's just lovely and I like how the fandom points that out.

Just having those side-by-sides, and the fact that there are many people who -- I think they're right -- point out how the two of them see each other as having been their one and only for so long? It's really just so touching.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Mickey -- I didn't come up with it by any means -- but I do like the idea that he's actually quite artistic if he was ever given the chance. AUs where he lets himself get into drawing or playing music or is a tattoo artist or even bakes -- I think South Side just wasn't an environment that encouraged that. But when he finally gets to, I just think it'd be really beautiful for him to do that (I also think poor boy needs a way to work through his trauma in a healthy way and I think the arts could be really good for that).

Ian -- I actually talk about this more later, but whereas Mickey has a lot of anger and kicks the crap out of people ("this is your errand?" still makes me laugh) and all that, I actually headcanon that Ian's anger is more frightening and threatening. It just comes out less often (often when he is protecting something else). Like, if they were ever to have kids, and something bad happened to their kid at school, Mickey would actually be the smarter parent to send to that meeting with the principal and Ian would be on "get the kid" duty because I think Ian would scare the ever living shit out of them.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

For Mickey, I love writing his internal perspective. Especially writing the snappish sentiments that come with his reluctant demeanor to show that he cares, but then contrasting that with the action that he obviously cares a lot. Just kind of "I don't know what you're fucking talking about, I'm looking out for number one here, so get out of my way," and he's not even lying, it's just that MICKEY is not Mickey's own number one, Ian's his number one. I love when I can tap into that and when that flows.

Something I dislike? When I can't get into that mindset to write him, then fucking nothing's being written lol. It's very easy to not feel right and to not feel like I'm in rhythm with his character. And I have a really hard time just writing through the block with him, if that makes sense.

Ian's a little more complicated. Ian's that rare combination of being deeply romantic and steadily diligent -- I could talk about how complex he is for hours (and my initial answer here did but believe it or not this is tamped down). Ian lets himself be vulnerable when others in his position probably wouldn't, he works so hard to do the right thing but sometimes he goes about it wrong; Ian's rock bottoms tend to be hard falls. But his comebacks? They're so good. So, to actually answer, I find it really cathartic to write him when he's had his feet kicked out from under him and is trying to reorient himself. My favorite thing I've written from his perspective is the "recordings" from all these things I have left to say to you, despite it being dark and tragic because his manic state is worsening, but I was really invested in the writing and exploring that aspect of his character. Others might disagree, but he's just a boy you can't help but root for and I like writing him.

Something I don't like? It's not that I don't like it, per se, but there are aspects to his personality I'm just not good at writing. Particularly two: 1) I'm not very good at writing the silly aspect to his character (he's a middle older brother! he's got wonderful silly moments and puns, but I'm really not good at writing that kind of thing) and 2) I tend to have a hard time writing Ian being just as vicious as Mickey is. (side note, the "fuck you!" to the military police in season 5? I'd flinch. The look on his face? I think I might flinch faster than with Mickey because Mickey's baseline is agitated but that's NOT Ian's baseline, so if Ian's angry there's this intensity to it) Ian is softer, but he can also be fucking dangerous. I mean I believe even Mickey points it out "you'll go overboard and fucking kill him" (or whatever the line is, but I believe it's directed at Ian); Ian just has a capacity for anger that I'd like to explore in my writing more.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! I love doing these kinds of games. Here are where the questions come from. And have more questions? I'll answer whatever!

Have a lovely rest of your day!!

#ask box games #ask games #character questions #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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brightbeautifulthings · 3 months

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Katzenjammer by Francesca Zappia

"They're all so dark, Dad said one day, watching over my shoulder as I worked at the kitchen table. Why don't you paint things like a blue sky, or a field of flowers, or a bird flying on a breeze? Something happy that your mom can put on the fridge. She can put these on the fridge, I said. Maybe just one flower? he asked. There are no flowers where I live, I said."

Year Read: 2023

Rating: 4/5

About: Cat has been stuck in School for as long as she can remember. The hallways slowly expand and contract with School's breathing, the showers run red with blood, and the students have divided themselves into changed and unchanged. While the unchanged hide in the fortress of administration, Cat and her friends haunt the courtyard and hallways. Her best friend is turning into cardboard, and Cat's face has become a cat mask made of her own hardened flesh. There are no doors or windows in or out of School, and something is hunting them down one by one in the hallways. To escape, Cat will have to understand why they're trapped in the first place. Trigger warnings: Some triggers are listed at the end of the review because they include spoilers. Character death, guns, violence, blood/gore, dismemberment, body/eye horror, bullying, slut-shaming, vandalism.

Thoughts: Thanks to @ninja-muse for recommending this book, since I'm not sure I would have found it on my own. This is probably my favorite Francesca Zappia novel to date, and one of the best novels on this subject I've ever read (more on that after the spoilers). However, I believe it's best to go into it not knowing much more than the description provides. This book works extremely well as a slow reveal. What starts out as a mindfuck becomes slow understanding as we realize more or less alongside Cat what is happening in School, and you'd be doing yourself a disservice to read the spoilers if you plan to read this. However, it covers a number of very heavy and potentially triggering topics (and it's difficult to gush about how I think it works without giving things away), so I'll include those thoughts at the end. I can't stress it enough though. If you're not easily triggered, stop here and go read this book!

This is also one of the best examples of uncanny horror that I've read in a long time. Zappia expertly manages to capture the quality of a nightmare without sacrificing the continuity. School is creepy and semi-sentient, and the changes it brings about in half the students are a study in body horror. Perhaps even more terrifying are the parallels it draws to some very real life horrors such as bullying and, indeed, I found the flashback chapters of Cat's surfacing memories of her former life of being targeted, bullied, and slut-shamed at school more difficult to get through than the surreal scenes of hacked up bodies or bloody showers in School. Real life horror always affects me a lot more than the supernatural, and Katzenjammer does an excellent job of balancing both. The ending is cathartic and effective, and there's less of a plot twist than a sort of inevitable, dawning horror-- which is honestly the best kind.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. TURN BACK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Remember how I said that real life horror is always worse than the supernatural or the uncanny? I stand by that statement. Zappia draws such excellent parallels to real life in her uncanny School that it's almost impossible not to realize before Cat does that the traumatic event that put them there was a school shooting. I've read a couple YA novels that handled the subject fine, but I don't think any of them capture it as well as this one. We need something like the supernatural School and the horror of bodies changing in ways we can't explain to fully grasp the senseless horror of gun violence. Killing children makes no more sense than hallways that breathe or girls who turn into their cat masks. It takes Cat the entire novel to understand the horror and absurdity of what's been done to her and to accept it-- that there are reasons but not excuses, and that we will never know all of them. I cried a little at the end, but I think the real life horror of it is too big for tears. Instead, it's a feeling that will sit with me long after I've turned the last page.

#book review #francesca zappia #katzenjammer #ya horror #underrated books #4/5 #rating: 4/5 #2023 #ninja-muse

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smute · 1 year

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Charlie goes to his crusty bedroom and reads his precious Moby-Dick essay one more time while glugging from a two-liter bottle of bed-Pepsi. We get to hear his favorite part of the essay: “The whale doesn’t have any emotions, he’s just a poor big animal.” As a fat person who has actually read Moby-Dick, even the “boring chapters,” THAT IS NOT WHAT MOBY-DICK IS ABOUT OR WHAT MOBY DICK THE WHALE IS LIKE AT ALL. Obviously we’re supposed to draw some parallel between Moby Dick the actual whale and Charlie the human whale, but, like, why? What shallow fucking bullshit! Can you even map one on top of the other at all? Has anyone ever read Moby-Dick and thought, “wow, what a pathetic loser” about the whale? The ungraspable phantom of life himself???? Thin people don’t think of fat people as powerful and inscrutable phantoms—they’re absolutely positive they can scrute everything about us, our “everything” being CHEESY BUGLES! Hence this movie!!!!! Don’t talk about my favorite book, DARREN. I don’t come to your house and explain The Mystery Method wrong! Anyway, then Charlie uses his cursed rusty mobility aids to turn out the light and go to sleep. Spooky!

[...] How do fat suits work? Does Brendan Fraser have to wear individual little sausage tubes on each finger? I can’t stop thinking about how many awards the visual effects people (or whatever department makes fat suits) are going to win for this. It’s like if I got a Nobel Prize for drawing a mean picture of your grandma. Also, for the record, I know the fat suit was really expensive, but it looks weird! It doesn’t hang right! He looks like the mascot for an NBA team called the Wichita Big Pile of Raw Chicken. Hmm, if only there was a way to depict a fat person in a movie without an expensive flappy silicon slug bag!

While Charlie is in the bathroom crying (really), Thomas shows up again and Ellie introduces herself: “What’s more surprising—that a gay guy has a daughter, or that someone actually found his penis?” Wow, once again, thank you so much to Darren Aronofsky and playwright Samuel D. Hunter for spending TEN YEARS on this extremely humanizing screenplay! I feel seen, unlike my own genitals!!!

Charlie is so moved that he goes, “You wrote these amazing, honest things… You’ve all been so honest with me. I just want to be honest with you too.” And then he TURNS ON HIS WEBCAM and SHOWS THEM HIS HUGE FACE AND BODY! All the students lose it and they’re grimacing and cowering before him and taking pictures of the screen, LOL, even though literally it just looks like a regular guy???????? It’s a Zoom square! It looks like a close-up of a guy’s face! No one would have any reaction to this! If there’s one thing this movie does perfectly, it’s trick thin people into telling on themselves about how uncomfortable they are around fat people!

Then Liz comes back and reveals that, LMAO, what happened to Alan is that he starved himself to death (kind of), and that’s why now Charlie has to EAT himself to death. Wooooooow, who wrote that brilliant juxtaposition? Grover??? Is this supposed to be profound? It's less nuanced than when people say “the terrorists hate our freedom”! Actually, you know what? This detail with Alan is the central problem with this entire movie: Being thin is not the opposite of being fat!!!!!!!! STARVING IS NOT THE OPPOSITE OF EATING. Having a body is a complex state! [...] Then they clarify that actually Alan starved himself ALMOST to death and then jumped off a bridge. Jumping! The most thin-privilege way to die!

sorrynotsorry bout all the whale poasting but this review by lindy west was very cathartic for me! its a shitty movie and extremely triggering not just for fat people but anyone with any sort of complicated feelings around food and your own body tbh. so im sharing it here. butt news has a free subscription and lindy west is hilarious so. go read it and maybe read some other reviews too

#i watched it yesterday and was very dismissive of it but it really hit close to home and made me feel and think some not so nice things #so thank you lindy west as always #fatphobia tw #the whale #lindy west #&

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presidenthades · 9 months

Text

I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 4!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

I originally wanted to write about Jace entertaining a slew of suitors while Aegon is jealous, but if you’ve read the whole fic, you know I saved that plot line for Luce and Aemond instead. (You might notice that I recycled some of the suitors on Jace’s list for Luce too.) But it makes me wonder what this verse’s jealous!Aegon would have looked like. 👀 I like to think he would have gotten on Sunfyre, stolen Jace from Driftmark, and run off to Lys.

Daemon’s commentary about the suitors shows how poorly he thinks of pretty much everybody who isn’t his family. 😂 Also, his fleeting scheme to marry Jace to her hypothetical much younger half-brother is *the same thing* that Otto proposed re: Rhaenyra and Aegon, which I find hilarious. Great minds think alike? Maybe?

Daemon’s thought about his potential son superseding Jace as Rhaenyra’s heir is controversial. In the show, when Viserys proposes the Rhaenyra/Laenor match, he says that their firstborn child, regardless of gender, will inherit. But later, when Rhaenyra proposes the Jace/Baela match to Rhaenys, Rhaenyra says that Baela’s sons will inherit. I’m inclined to think this is a writing discrepancy, considering the many writing issues during S1. I’ve seen people interpret it as Rhaenyra being less progressive than Viserys (she’s reverting to male primogeniture while Viserys supports absolute primogeniture), but I don’t think this interpretation matches what we’ve seen of the show characters. For the purposes of this discussion, let’s say Daemon thinks male primogeniture is still the de facto method of inheritance, with Rhaenyra as an exception. But what Daemon thinks isn’t always what’s right/true, so maybe Rhaenyra herself would strongly disagree. We won’t know until/unless I write her POV.

I think it took readers until Chapter 7 to realize that the tipsy dragonseed guard who lets Luce escape the castle is Ulf White. I intentionally refrained from name-dropping so it wouldn’t distract people, and I don’t think Daemon would know the name of *every* man-at-arms on Dragonstone.

Likewise, the village blacksmith who points out Luce to Daemon is Hugh Hammer. Hugh doesn’t have much of a reason to get involved, except to potentially curry some favor with Daemon by helping him out.

The ship that Luce is trying to board, the Violande, is the ship that, in the book, Rhaenyra takes to Dragonstone after she flees King’s Landing after the Storming of the Dragonpit.

Daemon’s fears about what Otto might do if Jace married Aegon aren’t completely unfounded. In Episode 9 of the show, Otto is willing to assassinate Rhaenyra and her children. Whether Otto would find that necessary in this verse is a different question. But, as we see later, Daemon is off in his assessment of Aegon; there’s no way this verse’s Aegon would do anything to hurt Jace. But Daemon doesn’t know that, so as far as he’s aware, he’s right to distrust Aegon.

Daemon kind of forensically pieces together Luce’s papers to get an idea of what she was doing the night before, but for clarity, here’s roughly what happened. First she has a nightmare, which involves being eaten by Vhagar (Luce does not have dragon dreams; I just wanted to allude to Lucerys’s canon death). She wakes up, stuffs her face with jam tart, and scribbles a cathartic letter that she has no intention of sending. Then she calms herself down by drawing some knitting patterns and transcribing Aegon’s song (that he wrote for Jace) for the lyre. Finally she writes a letter that she actually wants to send to Aemond, which she WOULD have sent the next morning (so he could hopefully show up in time for her nameday) if they hadn’t received news that Aemond lost his eye. 😢 There’s probably a lesson here about not holding onto grudges for too long.

In an early draft of this chapter, I had Daemon flying to King’s Landing so he could personally mess with Aemond, but then I remembered ravens exist. 🙃 Ultimately it’s better this way, because Aemond would have gotten suspicious if Daemon hand-delivered the Bad Letter. Also, the original version just doesn’t make sense anymore. Daemon was supposed to go to the Red Keep’s black cells to find the cutpurse who attacked Aemond, which would lure Aemond from his sickbed because Aemond doesn’t want his uncle to deal with his attacker before Aemond gets the chance (murderous preteen 🖤), then Daemon teaches Aemond some creative knifework before handing him the Bad Letter; the “door opens” part of Helaena’s prophecy was originally referring to the Black Cell door. But see how nonsensical that scene sounds now? This is why we edit and revise and murder our darlings 🥴

#my writing #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #meta #hotd fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon’s handbook

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dokidokitsuna · 1 year

Note

Hello I love your AU!

Could you please tell us more about Elfilis and Star Dream as well?

Well, for one thing, they're a lot harder to draw. ^^; So I will gladly accept this opportunity to talk about them now and finish my sketches later~

For another thing, I will admit that they were kind of afterthoughts for GONE (this image basically tells all the story I wanted to tell). It was hard for me to even imagine a space for them to be characters...until I tried thinking of the AU as a more casual slice-of-life thing, believe it or not. ^^;

It kinda makes sense though; for multiverse-scale rulers to take something like this in stride, to be totally comfortable taking breaks to chat and get to know each other in between murder attempts. ^^ To be honest, it's almost creepier this way...for someone to ask how you've been before ripping your head off your neck...really adds to the 'inhuman' vibe of this AU in particular.

Fecto Elfilis: Probably the most sympathetic of the three, despite also being the most brutal (in a way, I feel a capacity for kindness and a capacity for cruelty are two sides of the same coin). They kinda understand what the Master Crown is going through, since they also have a nagging 'weakness' living inside of them at all times, in the form of Elfilin. ^^ You'll see what that looks like later. ;)

Of course, they have the advantage of knowing with certainty that Elfilin is real, most likely permanent, and has feelings they can hurt (their basic dynamic is that Elfilin begs them not to do something bad, and F/E does something 10x worse just to spite him). Unfortunately, this comes with the disadvantage of having to fight with him all the time, and the constant stress and aggravation that results. ^^; Like, imagine you had a sort of sentient autoimmune disease that flared up AND psychically argued with you every time you wanted to do something fun...it's a special kind of hell, tbh, and I like to think that Elfilin knows that~.

Anyway, despite all of that, F/E is usually pretty cool and self-confident, personality-wise. They have zero respect for either of their opponents, and they get a cathartic kick out of watching the Crown have a mental breakdown and mocking it for it...even though they secretly feel the same way very often, and very deep down.

Star Dream: It thinks of itself as a benevolent god, the savior of the universe...and whether or not that idea is a half-truth or a complete delusion honestly depends on your perspective.

They ARE the only one of the three who's actually concerned with building civilizations instead of destroying them (F/E) or treating them like toys (MC). They also have the intrinsic ability to read people's dreams and grant their wishes, an ability they use to keep their colossal hivemind happy. But is this a 'real' happiness, or a sort of 'brainwashed' happiness? Does it really free people's souls from their imperfect flesh-prisons, or does it simply remake them into a sanitized ideal...?

I think it would be interesting if it offered to mechanize the Master Crown in order to relieve its suffering (which would totally count as proving dominance)...even though it's kind of its fault that MC started losing its mind in the first place. ^^;;; The 'itch' starts when it has a small but unexpected reaction to seeing Susie's face, and becomes exponentially worse when SD admits that the form it's in is something it saw in the MC's dreams. But y'know, what better way to convince MC to have its mind digitized and have the 'weaknesses' deleted than to show it exactly what it's afraid of? ^^

In case it's not obvious, Star Dream has a very 'pleasant' and calm personality-- by now, it's learned that it's faster and easier to convert people with """"kindness""" than threats of annihilation. Of course, it doesn't like being told 'no' (you could argue that it doesn't really see any viewpoint other than its own as valid) and really doesn't like entities that can challenge it, especially "repulsive" flesh-creatures like Fecto Elfilis. ^^ If there's any potential for dark comedy in this AU, it's in the dynamic between those two~

#kirby #gijinka #au #GONE.

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renee-writer · 4 months

Text

The Heart Don't Lie Chapter 33

AO3

Anna is furious! To be kicked out of her own house, to be spoken to in such a way by her own child, she simply can’t let that stay. She knows exactly what to do. She drives towards the university.

Jamie hugs his daughters. He is mighty proud of them for standing up to their mam. The decisions that Rose is making, to handle this unexpected situation, to be who she is without apology, they make his chest swell with pride.

He draws Claire to him next. He knows that she was stunned by the vitriol from Anna. She had to place the focus and blame away from herself. They were an easy target.

She lets herself relax against him. There is a relief in having everything out in the open, even with the loathing she expressed.

“It was a cathartic meeting. A type of therapy session.” Beth expresses what they are all thinking. Rose hugs her side.

“Just so love. The first of many I imagine.”

Her Auntie Jenny nods. “Sad that it has come to this. But,” she rolls her shoulders to release the tension, “the air is clear now. I believe Anna knows where she stands.”

“She should have before.” Jamie growls.

“Yes,” Her hand comes up to cradle his face, “undoubtedly. But there is no way she doesn’t now. Having her life tore apart, even if,” she quickly adds, “she was the cause of it, it is hard to accept.”

“See,” Willa exclaims, “you are perfect for daddy. Smart, with a kind heart, forgiving.”

“I try. Don’t place me on a pedestal. Trust me when I say, I wrestle with very strong negative feelings about her.” They all laugh.

Anna pulls in to the car park in front of the history department. If there is one person that should hate what is happening between Jamie and that interloper, it should be her husband.

She looks at the directory and then enters the lift to his floor.

She knocks on his office door.

“Come in,” She walks in and he looks up from packing his things, “ Do I know you?”

“My husband is currently shagging your wife. I am Anna Fraser, Jamie ‘s wife.”

His hands hit the mostly empty desk as he starts to laugh. Her arms cross and she glares at him. He continues to laugh.

“What is so funny?”

He struggles to get himself under control so he can answer her.

“You thinking you could ever stop that. Credit for doing it for twenty years. But, as soon as he found out your secret and as soon as I stuffed up by choosing his niece as my latest student f*ck, it was over. We are just getting what we deserve.”

“You don’t care!”

“Claire was a means to an end. She gave me an air of respectability. I hoped she would give me a heir too. Now that I know I am sterile and now that my tenure has been removed and I have been shown the door, I don’t need her. Living life the way I want will be easier now.”

She stares at him a moment before turning and slamming out. He shakes his head and continues to pack up, chuckling to himself.

The next day finds Rose pacing, anxious for the arrival of Simon, his wife, Kate, and their children, David and Leah.

She phoned him after the intense family meeting. He assured her that they would be available to come by the next day. A time was set and, as it grows closer, she gets more nervous.

Knowing her family surrounds her, helps. Claire and Auntie Jenny are in the kitchen, baking. Willa and Beth are playing chess in the study, Her daddy and Uncle Ian are in the stables. Her cousins work around the farm.

Her heart leaps when she hears the car coming. Then she sees it is her mam. Hands fisted in rage, she walks out to meet her.

“Rose I…”

“Why are you here?”

“You said as long as I stayed out of the way…”

“That was before yesterday. Do you think I want you here now?”

“Rose, I am your mam. I understand you are upset but…”

They both turn as another car pulls up. Rose’s heart starts to pound.

“Go. Find somewhere to be in the house but…”

Simon steps out and stares. His wife and children join him. Rose looks immediately to her sister and brother. Kate’s eyes zero in on Anna.

“Rose, I didn’t know that your mam would be here.”

“Sorry Simon. She wasn’t to be, here around you guys, I mean.”

“So, you are Anna. I am Kate, his wife.”

Anna looks for a way to escape. The other woman ‘s eyes hold her fast.

“I am sorry for what I did. I was young and…”

“A skank.”

“Mam, please go. Willa and Beth are in daddy’s study. Why don’t you join them.”

“Alright.” She turns and walks stiffly away. When she is gone, they all seem to be able to take a breath again.

“So sorry, I…”

Kate shakes her head. “It is I who should be apologizing. She is your man. I should have never spoke to her like that, in front of you.”

“No, you have a right to your feelings. Okay, let’s start over. Simon, Kate, Leah, and David, welcome to Lallybroch. Please join me in the great room.”

She leads them that way.

“It is lovely.” Leah offers at entering the room.

“Yes, it is.” From Simon.

“Thank you. The house and grounds have been in our family for well over three hundred years.”

Her auntie and Claire have brought in tea. The children make a bee line for the biscuits.

“David. Leah. Manners.” Their mam says. They all take seats. Rose smiles at her new siblings.

“You may go ahead, if your parents say it is alright.”

They look at them with pleading eyes. Simon nods okay and Kate agrees.

“I know I told you who Rose is but allow me to make a full introduction. David and Leah Grant, meet Rose Fraser, your sister.” Simon says.

“Hi,” David nods to her, “good biscuits.”

“Hello. It is nice to meet you.” Leah offers her hand. She takes it and smiles at the lass.

“It is very nice to meet you both.”

She should have meet them as infants. There should be pictures of her cradling her baby brother and sister. Simon, watching them carefully, sees. He sighs.

“I am sorry you didn’t meet them sooner. Had I known…”

“Had we known. Oh I was right furious, at first.”

“She threw a cup at him.” David informs her.

“Thank you David. As I was saying, I was hurt and angry. But, he made a mistake twenty years ago. A mistake he hasn’t made since. Not that you are a mistake, just…”

“I understand.”

“We talked about it, after I calmed down. You are innocent in this. Our children are. You are siblings. Simon is your biological father. I am your stepmom. Family. We need to know each other. Enough time has been wasted.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #the heart don't lie #chapter 33 #jamie and claire #outlander fandom #cannon divergence #modern au

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evanox · 2 years

Note

Hi hi hi :D

I saw you were taking requests so I have an au request thingy. Imagine the one au of the M3 as baristas with an mc from Astraea, except mc just fucking faceplants into the coffee shop during the closing shift and everyone loses their shit-

Also hcs for barista Felix falling for astraean mc ahajsksksjsmsms that is all okay thank you-

hii tysm for the request!! no I definitely didn't have to binge @/morgandrinkscoffee for Research /s,, also omg you've reminded me of Ciel's drawing of the M3 as baristas,, man I'm gonna miss Ciel's LL art,, also

you see I kind of forgot the Astraean MC bit and already committed to General Barista HCs so now you're getting both General Barista HCs and the M3 with Astraean MC and Felix falls in love with them, except the latter is gonna have to be on another post bc it got so long tumblr won't let me edit it normally anymore :)) i'll make sure to tag you once that's up!

m.list

Felix

Felix had to find a new job to stay afloat after practically disowning his dad. Scylla still tries to help with a lot of his finances, but Felix hates relying too much on her, so here is, working the coffee machine at a bookstore coffee shop. Yes, it is a humbling experience.

The manager had to tell him off several times about his sharp tongue; Felix wasn't exactly subtle when a customer pissed him off. His coworkers, however, enjoyed living vicariously through him. It was cathartic watching Felix come up with creative ways to roast (haha) rude customers, and it was fun while it lasted. Now he just wears his customer smile through the pain, except it's more of an unnerving "I can't stop thinking about all the ways I could poison you" smirk.

Loathes the morning shift with every fiber of his being; loves the night shift, especially if he's alone. You know he's busting a few moves with that broom while blasting his playlist that's just too hit or miss for everyone to be used while the cafe is open.

Throws far too many tirades about how tea is far superior to coffee.

"Why do you work at a cafe then?"

"Mind your business."

Oh, the scandalized look on his face when someone suggests he try out coffee so he can 'look a little more cheerful on the morning shift'...

Felix always brings a book along to get him through slow shifts. He tried to be subtle about the more risque ones, but he'd been caught by his coworkers so many times that Felix doesn't bother hiding it from them anymore.

Come to the counter carrying a book that Felix likes (or absolutely loathes), and he will look like someone breathed life back into his corpse. It's very rare that he'd engage in small talk with customers—let alone initiate it—but he'll ask how far into the book have you read, what are your thoughts so far, and offer some of his own opinions if you seem to be enjoying the conversation.

His handwriting is usually incomprehensible because he writes in cursive and his hand is too fast so it just looks like a messy string of loops. You know Felix has a crush when he takes his sweet time drawing out those pretty loops into your name and making it look fancier than a Victorian man's love letter.

And yes, he'll go out of his way to walk the order to you.

Can't help but stare as you sip on your drink, so he brings his leather-bound writing journal along to seem more subtle as he looks between you and the pages. When inspiration strikes he might jot down a few verses of poetry about the threads of your hair turned golden by the sun or the mesmerizing rhythm of your finger as you tap it against your lovely lips when deep in thought, and if you have brown eyes he might even throw in a coffee-related simile. Then he feels very embarrassed and slaps the journal shut before any of his coworkers could get a peek.

How does he flirt, you ask? By reading the same books you pick up, of course; what better way to know someone? And it'll give him an excuse to strike up a conversation the next time you come for a drink.

Anisa

Anisa working in a cat cafe? Anisa working in a cat cafe.

When no one's watching she'll try to coo at the cats and coax them into her lap. Why does she feel the need to hide when trying to get the cats to play? Because Anisa doesn't want anyone witnessing the myriad of rejections she has to face from the cats.

Yes she cries a little when one of them gets adopted, both tears of joy and sadness—she's gonna miss them so much. You know she memorized all their names.

Anisa has always had the best work ethic and gives her job her all, but it helps a lot that she really likes the cafe; it has the added bonus of cats and a mostly laid-back clientele who just want to see some cute fluffy babies. This place also happens to be a hot spot for first dates and Anisa always gazes at the new couples with yearning; she can't wait for the day she gets to come here as a customer herself with someone she loves.

So yes, she might be the most put-together out of the three LI's, but Anisa definitely has her unhinged moments, like spending concerning amounts of time staring at the coffee beans in the grinder and fighting the urge to grab a handful just to eat it. She won't do it, but God, that texture must be immaculate. Has she ever thought about trying out the cats' food while shoveling some into their bowls? Maybe once or twice, not that anyone needs to know.

Also she's the worst when it comes to being a chronic ice-kicker.

You can always trust her with choosing the playlist and setting the vibe for the day. Anisa loves the opening shift for that sole reason, and also because she hates the closing shift cleanup. There was a morning when she opened and found the bar looking like a total mess, proceeded to check the schedule so she can give a certain someone a piece of her mind, only to find out it was, indeed, Anisa herself who closed last night.

She's so sweet with the kids and applauds them when they manage to make an order after nervously stumbling over their words.

There are only two types of situations when Anisa might look the slightest bit intimidating; the first is when lecturing customers about not bothering the cats if they're sleeping or forcing them to play when the cats don't want to.

The second is when a customer asks her to watch over a laptop or other personal stuff when they need to go to the bathroom. For the next 5 minutes, Anisa will be your laptop's hawk-eyed, vigilant guardian, throwing herself halfway over the counter to keep watch over your things and make sure they remain untouched.

Her customer smile is well-practiced but oh, the way her eyes light up when her favorite person comes through; you can so obviously tell this smile is far more genuine.

Doesn't shy away from drawing a little heart next to your name over the cup, or maybe a little cat. If your drink comes with a straw she'll always choose the one with her favorite color for you; if she's feeling bold she might ask about your favorite color. Don't confront her about the cute cup art if you don't want to see her stammering over her words, hair poofed up and face all flustered.

"Oooh she must really like you!" Anisa calls out when a cat cuddles up to you. The cat is a naturally cuddly one, but you don't have to know that; Anisa just wants her special person to feel special.

Sage

There aren't many things Sage likes about his job besides doing delivery on the motorcycle—anything just so he doesn't have to stay in that stuffy, cramped kitchenette. So what if he takes a few detours on the way back just to feel the breeze against his face? No one has to know.

He can't even listen to his favorite music inside the shop since he was permanently banned from choosing the day's playlist; not a single one is without an obscenely crude song.

The only other thing he likes about the job is the free food. He's not sure if it's actually free, but he doesn't really care.

Far more easy-going with rude customers than Felix is but less willing to indulge and smile through it like Anisa.

"We're all out of ___."

"Are you sure? Can you check in the back?"

Yeah, sure. Thanks for the smoke break.

Well I don't think he'd actually have a cig on him but he definitely has a flask tucked somewhere in the shirt he was forced to button up to the neck and tuck into his pants.

Otherwise he's quite flirtatious with customers, though more often than not he's just entertaining himself rather than actually expressing interest. Nothing too raunchy, but enough to make the shier customers blush and earn bashful laughter from the old ladies. His customer-service voice is just his casual flirty tone coupled with a lopsided-smile; you can just catch a little peak of that unnaturally sharp canine.

The only reason his manager has yet to fire him for his lack of punctuality and texting on the job is how easily Sage can charm customers and how many he has drawn in with his good looks. You don't even have to try that hard when you're 6'2" with luscious locks pulled into a high ponytail.

That, and he has a surprising talent in making latte art, mostly because Sage has practiced drawing rosetta so many times (yes, because it looks like a dick and he thought it was very funny).

Sure he'll remember your usual if you're a regular but this man is never going to remember your name; no, he won't feel apologetic about it. If he likes you, however...

Pushes his coworkers away the moment he sees your face even if he's supposed to be on break; no one can take your order, alright? No one prepares it like he does anyway.

Hey, he might even start being punctual to his shifts.

So what if he undoes one or two buttons on his shirt? The weather is just oh, so hot ;)

Starts flirting less with other customers and more with you. This is where his terrible pickup lines finally shine. He doesn't mind if you find them laughable; he just feels lucky to see you smile. The more ridiculous/stupid lines are saved for days when you look really down and might need a pick-me-up stronger than just coffee.

If you seem to be into his pickup lines and lack of subtlety, he might just throw the ball in your court by jotting his number down on your cup.

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softlytowardthesun · 2 years

Note

Curious: what are your favorite type of fairy stories listed in the Aarne-Thompson enciclopedia classification?

First off, it's nice to meet you and thank you for asking! Secondly, I want to preface this: I'm not a student or a scholar of folklore as a genre, and my knowledge of ATU is limited to what I've managed to find online over the years. More often than not, it's either something I've found on JStor in college, something in a Maria Tatar book, or this website.

Still, I love seeing these stories and all their variations across times and places. Without further ado:

306: The Worn-Out Dancing Shoes: I love the mystery element of this story, and I'm forever intrigued by all the variations of the other world the women travel to, whether it's the palace of Indra, the court of Satan, or something else entirely. Many versions attribute their actions to some curse that must be broken to achieve a heterosexual happy ending, but it's in the in-between that this story really sings to me. And a not-quite-variant of it, "Kate Crackernuts", may just be my favorite fairy tale of all time; how often is the ugly (or at least, "less bonny") stepsister the hero of her own story?

310: The Maiden in the Tower: I'm a sucker for a magical chase, and Rapunzel's relatives absolutely provide. My favorites include "Snow-White-Fire-Red", "The Canary Prince", and "Louliyya, Daughter of Morgan".

311: Magic Flight: Stories of magical escapes from dire situations, like "Sweetheart Roland", "The White Dove", "The Fox Sister", and "The Tail of the Princess Elephant".

407: The Flower Girl: Plants who become women or vice versa, often coupled with an escape from an abusive romance. I love these stories purely for the folkloric weirdness factor: "A Riddling Tale" (shout-out to Erstwhile for introducing me to this one), "The Gold-Spinners", "The Girl in the Bay Tree", and "Pretty Maid Ibronka".

451: Brothers as Birds: This one's purely on my love for the Grimms' "Six Swans" and "Seven Ravens". I love a resilient heroine who draws her strength from her family. I admittedly haven't read many others, but these two mean so much to me they get a place here entirely on the strength of these two.

510B: All-Kinds-Of-Fur: The story of a woman's escape from her incestuous father who then gets a Cinderella ending. I admire the heroine's courage in face of an all too real type of monster. Grimms' is a favorite, as is "Florinda" (which could also qualify as 514), "Princess in a Leather Burqa", "The She-Bear", and "Nya-Nya Bulembu".

514: The Shift of Sex: I first came across this story when I stumbled on Psyche Z. Ready's terrific thesis some years ago and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind since. All of these variations from all over the world -- I find it cathartic to know that we've been asking these questions about gender and sexuality forever, and a happy ending is an imaginative possibility.

709: Fairest of Them All: This I owe squarely to Maria Tatar's anthology from a few years ago. Unfortunately, this also means that there are several I can't find online, including "Kohava the Wonder Child" (a rare Jewish heroine in a genre infamous for how it absorbs anti-Semitism) and "King Peacock" (one of the few African American fairy tales I know, also included in Tatar's collaboration with Henry Louis Gates). I love "Princess Aubergine", "Little Toute-Belle", and especially "Gold-Tree and Silver-Tree" - my little bi self was elated to stumble across a princess who lives happily ever after with her kind and gentle limbo husband and her cunning and resourceful wife.

Even as a hobbyist, I love folklore and fairy tales. I love these little glimpses into other cultures, and I love the way these story structures act as magnets for so many nuances of people's lives across history. Still, I hope this answers your question, gives a glimpse into my experience with fairy tales as a genre, or (at the very least) gives you some new and interesting stories to read!

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udaberriwrites · 1 year

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Fic Writer Self Rec

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Oooh, a chance to ramble about my fics, I see, well let's do this! Thank you, @sliebman10!

Let's tag... @mikaharuka , @alpaca-clouds , @thememoryofthatday , @sapphosewrites , @axolotlsupremacyowo , @0nelittlebirdtoldme , @kayedium-writes and @tsunderewatermelon !

Ok, ok, so... as usual, I'm going to be jumping around, because you guys know how my attention span can be xD

1. Life is a Rollercoaster; or Tao Xu's Fight Against the Big Butterfly of Doom (Heartstopper | 11.1k | Fluff, Humor, Time Travel)

Tao got the chance to go back in time and undo his worst mistake. Tao prevented Charlie from being outed or bullied. Tao changed things enough that, the second time around, Charlie didn't get assigned the seat next to Nick Nelson in form.

…Fuck.

Or: the Butterfly Effect sucks, and if Tao has to take desperate measures to ensure his friend's happiness, he will. He draws the line at Iron Man 2 though, someone has to keep some standards around here.

I binged the show and immediately got the urge to write something for it, but I didn't expect it to blow up as it did! I had fun with this one, and the readers were super nice and encouraging, plus sharing this one is what led me to eventually meet @mikaharuka as we rambled over our fics, so for that alone it's always going to have a special significance for me 😁

2. Neither Grief Nor Glory (TSOA/Hades | 7.6k | Angst, Smut)

Dying had been a relief, but death is turning into its own kind of torment.

Dying was just the beginning. Achilles' journey back to Patroclus is a long and twisted one. Along the way he'll have to confront his unaddressed grief, face his many regrets and learn to truly become a man worthy of Patroclus' unconditional love.

But like all journeys, eventually he'll reach his safe harbor.

My first yuletide! This one took months and a couple of minor breakdowns, but the end result is something I am very proud of, both in terms of the prose and the worldbuilding. And my giftee left the loveliest comment ☺️

3. All That Matters (Asterix the Gaul | 2.6k | Character Study, Queerplatonic Relationships)

Asterix has always felt different, but he has Obelix, and that is usually enough. Everybody else has questions, however, and he grows tired of answering.

"He wants to shout, even if he still doesn't know what he wants to say, even if he knows that if he lets his frustration take hold of his tongue, he will regret the harm he will cause."

This was... very, very cathartic to write. I remember rewriting sections of this so often, and I am humbled by the response it had. It was a very validating experience.

4. Life is a Flower, Love is the Honey (Deep Space Nine | 9.5k | Romance and Fluff)

“I don’t think Julian would like that,” Leeta said, without pausing to think about it, but… “We could ask him,” Rom had replied. And wasn’t that an interesting idea?

(A self-indulgent, mostly Rom-centric, Julian/Leeta/Rom fic because I was re-watching ‘Bar Association’ and this happened. I have no regrets.)

The one that brought me back into writing, after several years of hiatus... and the one that gave me confidence to push on, even if I nearly backed out due to it featuring a strange rarepair. This story is always going to be special for me <3

4. When You Speak, I Hear Silence (Deep Space Nine | 1.8k | Friendship)

Terok Nor is no more, and strange new aliens are coming to the newly named Deep Space Nine. Nog doesn't expect life to change; but then he finds a friend, who gives him the greatest gift he will ever receive.

If there's a fic where I wouldn't change a single word or a moment of the writing process, it has to be this one. I'm so glad I didn't go with my initial idea, because this version with Jake&Nog just made things click for me ^_^

#tag game #thanks for the tag!#ao3 fic #ao3 favorites #heartstopper fic #tsoa fanfic #asterix #ds9 fic

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stilettomafiosas · 1 year

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I dont have a lot of good words to really express how I feel, but god did reading your ramble feel cathartic and I mean it in very connecting and touching way. you described stuff that I also feel and struggle with all the time, ESPECIALLY as an autistic person who's still learning to unmask. I try to express things through art as much as I can and my art is extremely personal for me, no matter what im drawing. im personally still working on trying to balance creativity and my energy, but im genuinely really happy for you that you're able to have conversations through art. both you and your art are big inspirations for me. and uh I dont know what other words to use! so basically I hope you're having a good day and thank you

this is so so kind of you oh my gosh... I am so happy to hear that ;~; it's such a relief to not just know in my head that I'm not alone with these struggles, but to hear it from someone right here—and absolutely not to say that I'm glad you also have so much difficulty in communication and the problems it brings in everyday life, but it's so grounding to hear that you do understand and relate to it!

I'm so glad that you've found some comfort in art as well: it is SO deeply personal and I know not every artist feels that same degree of vulnerability in (or profound attachment to) their work, so it's nice to hear that you relate to your own art in a similar way C,: it's amazing to have that...! not only the pleasure of maybe giving someone else inspiration/enjoyment through your work, but that moment of connecting with someone else as they become however briefly an audience to your feelings and what's on your mind, even if you could never properly express those feelings/thoughts in words to someone's face. it's so special!!

THANK YOU so so much for telling me this, I'm touched to hear it! I'm so happy that I can be an inspiration to you and I hope to continue to earn that honor :,) I hope you're having a wonderful day as well! please continue making and sharing your art, the world is better for it!!

#asks #;;w;;

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rescue-ram · 11 months

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3, 26, 42 and 50 for the fic writer meme!

3) What are some tropes or details that you think are characteristic of your work?

My worst habit is getting a really big idea for a fic, writing part of it, then losing steam and not being able to finish. I will come back to you WIPs, I swear!! I also tend towards very introspective narrators, for better or for worse, and whenever I edit I have to constantly ask myself what is the character DOING to make sure I'm not relying too heavily on dialogue. I've also noticed I tend to be annoyingly meticulous and have difficulty eliding details. If a character picks something up they WILL put it back down, I do draw little diagrams to make sure everything's spatial positions stay the same, and I will find myself writing an extra thousand words to explain how a character got to where they are rather than skipping to the good part... which definitely contributes to my difficulties finishing WIPs 😅 As far as pairings and character relationships generally, I'm a sucker for complicated and ambiguous relationships, and pairs who have overcome some kind of inequality to be together. I'm frequently a fetid phone poster so I often notice annoying little typos after publishing, which makes me gnash my teeth. As far as tropes, I like "slow burn build up to big cathartic moment", and "character wrestling with humanity/sense of self", and a lil bit of outsider POV. I also have a tendency to focus on the characters hands in descriptions, and there are DEFINITELY a few phrases I catch myself reusing when I reread my fics, I should probably go through and make a call out post for myself at some point with those ram-isms 😅

26) Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that had only dialogue?

I know this would only further my bad habit, but definitely dialogue only.

42) Have you ever received a comment that stood out to you for any reason?

Love and light to all commenters everywhere 🥰 But I think the comment that most stood out to me when I received it, was I gave Rescue Bots (my beloved) a chance because of a specific Tumblr user who hyped it up, and then they left a very nice comment on Discretion. I was too depressed to respond at the time, but I was very bemused they found my fic and happy they liked it!

50) Using my free space here to muse on something I've noticed, in reading older fics recently and comparing them to newer fics... There is a lot less homophobia in fics nowadays. I mean this in a neutral way. I think it generally says good things about our culture and LGBT acceptance, and also is probably part of the trend of stronger taboos on controversy in many parts of fandom. But in reading older fics, it wasn't that the characters are haters or anything but homophobia is just an embedded assumption that has to be wrestled with. A lot of pagespace is given to characters working through their own internalized homophobia, wrestling with the closet or coming out, and facing varying levels of rejection from the rest of the cast. Nowadays, it seems like most fics are written as "Everything is canon except these characters have always been gay/bi", or in AUs where things like DADT never existed or gay marriage has always been legal, so there a lot less on page conflict over the characters' sexualities. Yay for people now being able to treat broad acceptance as unremarkable and a given nowadays, is the plusside!

I really started thinking about this the other day after reading two fics. One was a West Wing fic from the year of our Lord 2000, where Toby was both broadly supportive of a relationship between Josh and Sam... and also homophobic. Like, he loved them both and supported their relationship and was the best man at their commitment ceremony, AND was repeatedly vocally grossed out by PDA between them and actively got in between them in public out of fear they'd accidentally out themselves. This behavior was both accepted by the characters and totally uncommented on by the narrative. It was a pretty good fic, but that characterization struck me as being very of its time. In contrast, I was then reading a MASH fic from like last year, and it had Potter say something like "Love is love" and I was just immediately jarred out of the fic. Not in the sense that I think Potter would necessarily be hateful or something- I think he's both compassionate enough and pragmatic enough to decide what two consenting soldiers of similar ranks do in private is none of his business- but like, he's a Presbyterian Regular Army Colonel who was born in 1890-something, "Love is love" does not scan as natural or inevitable for the character to me. It felt like either a missed opportunity for a little character work- maybe Hawkeye is shocked by his easy reaction and they exchange a few lines on how he came to acceptance- or a missed opportunity for drama. And if the author just didn't want to get into it- completely valid- then writing Potter out of the scene would've preserved the suspension of belief better IMO. Reading those fics close together got me thinking about that broader pattern, which again I just find interesting... and also left me a little curious if the extremely frustrating and unfortunate resurgence in atmospheric/cultural homophobia in many places means that older pattern is going to reemerge in the psychosphere of fandom. I think my own fics tend more towards the "background homophobia" side of the force because of my own experiences. And I guess that's my "deep fandom thought" of the week.

#thank you for the ask friend ❤️#mash #west wing

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