#meaning i'd need to make the story *even longer* to then address *that* and it would get unwieldly
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Betrothed
Naoya can barely keep up with his duties as the next head of the Zenin estate and threatens to crumble under the pressure. Thankfully, his fiancée knows how to make everything better.
cw: smut - MDNI, rough and degrading sex, oral (m! receiving), afab reader, choking, power imbalance and toxic relationship
Your eyes dart furiously, taking in the blinding lights of the low-hanging gold leaf chandeliers, endlessly reflected by the tacky sequinned dresses of women swarming around the room. Everything's unbearable, the smell worse than the view, perfume barely covering the sweat of bodies intermingling together, with the added edge of lukewarm champagne and stale tobacco.
You hate it here, but above all you hate the heavy weight of Naoya 's hand on your lower back, steering you through the crowd. Naoya is insistent on showing you off to everyone. His latest, shiniest prize. His soon-to-be bride. Each introduction feels like an eternity, each handshake clammy and intrusive.
"I need a breather", you tell Naoya when the latest canine old geezer finally lets go of your hand after holding onto you for far longer than it is appropriate.
"No you don't", Naoya retorts without even looking at you, his eyes fixed on another one of his acquaintances, a cordial smile on his lips. If it wasn’t for the vice grip he had on your waist, it'd almost feel like he doesn't even acknowledge your presence. You try to wriggle out of his tight embrace, parting your lips to protest but he's quick to silence you and he digs his fingers cruelly in the silk of your gown, wrinkling the delicate material.
"Behave yourself, don't even think about causing a scene", he hisses, looking down at you with a tight-lipped smile on his face. To Naoya, everything you do out of your own volition is akin to causing a scene. You relent, gaze dropping to your trembling hands, steeling yourself into following him again through the swarm of warm bodies.
For the umpteenth time tonight, when Naoya finds an audience of new faces, he spews his spiel about how your betrothment was fated. He’s good at it, paints a vivid story of how two snotty kids’ puppy love has grown to cement the relationships between their families’ businesses. Naoaya’s like a master at work, his little speech perfectly tailored to both appease skittish shareholders and entertain the overly-sentimental penchant of their wives. "It's kismet, her and I", Naoya says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
What Naoya doesn't share though, is his lingering resentment for you. You may have become more pliant now, more accepting of your place, but you haven't atoned. There's still an edge to the way you address him, and it serves as a bitter reminder of your initial reserves about the whole ordeal.
Still, the onlookers smile at him but he doesn't miss how their expressions falter ever so slightly when their inquisitive eyes settle on you.
They must notice how your attempt at a genial smile ends up resembling a twisted moue, and how you cower into his side as they bid you goodbye. Naoya notices the slight tremor rocking your hands and the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Despite your repeated blunders tonight, Naoya thinks unease is a good look on you. It makes you more malleable. Tamer. Eager for any escape, any reprieve he'll offer and, being the benevolent man that he is, he takes pity on you and drags you out of the ballroom and into a secluded corridor.
His hold on your wrist is unforgiving, blunt nails digging into your skin, but you still babble mindless 'thank you's with whatever breath you still have as you try to keep up with his long strides. He ushers you inside the first bathroom he finds before locking the door behind you.
Immediately, you crouch over and hold your face in your hands, spilling an incoherent string of apologies and frenzied thanks in between labored breaths. "Naoya, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to burden you - I mean, I didn't even think I'd end up like this, I was fine – in the car, I rehearsed, I was doing good but – " you try to explain, but he cuts you off.
"What's new, you fuck up and I have to clean up your mess." He scoffs, not even sparing you a glance. Instead he stares at himself in the mirror hung above the sink, appraising his reflection with pursed lips. His eyes linger on the protruding vein on his forehead, widening at the sight of his face's sudden pallor. All your fault, as usual.
"Do you have any idea how you make me look ?", he starts again, massaging the bridge of his nose. "It's one thing if you want to ruin your own reputation, it's another now that you're my fiancée for God's sake - you're an extension of me, do you fucking get it ?".
He kneels to be eye-level with you, fine eyebrows pinched together and nose wrinkled. He's fuming and you're starting to spiral. Just as you're about to hide your misty eyes again, he cups your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to face him. His thumbs press into your cheeks, creeping up towards your lash line. "How am I supposed to manage a company if I can't even deal with my wife ? You make me look incompetent, darling", he presses and the pet name makes you shiver.
You sniffle and try to steady your uneven breaths, pleading with urgency, "I'm sorry, I'll be better, I just need to breathe, please". He cocks his head to the side, "And what about me in all of this, mmh ? Think you can fuck up my night because you couldn't just shut up and smile, then cry your way out of your responsibilities ?". His tone is low, his words biting.
You know he's right.
Noaya's formal introduction as the heir of the Zenin estate with you by his side was supposed to be flawless. It was a desperate bid designed by Naobito and his darling boy to control the narrative around the succession of the group, and to nip in the bud any stories about a possible carve-out to make the task of taking over the Zenin conglomerate more manageable, but you might've just fucked it up. You can already see the headlines, the rumor of the once revered Zenin conglomerate falling to the hands of a temperamental heir and his unstable wife will be echoed endlessly in every paper. It wouldn’t be the first time either of you ended up in the news, but this time is different - much worse than any previous petty attempt at dragging you through the mud.
You shake your head fervently, eager to sooth his irritation, "No of course not, I'll make it up to you". He sizes you up, mulling over your words, then he stands up and you all but clamber to your feet. "I'll make it right", you repeat with more confidence. He looks you up and down again, still irked but mildly curious. "How ?", he inquires, leaning against the sink, hands gripping the cool marble behind him and eyes narrowed at you.
You hesitate for a moment before relenting, "I'll do anything".
Ah, there it is. The night’s highlight. It’s not the first time this happens, by now it’s a well-practiced routine between you but it still feels heavenly every time he gets to push you into that overzealous, servile state of mind.
He might not be able to control the narrative around the shitshow his dad’s company has become or what every last geriatric investor thinks of him but in the grand scheme of things it might not even matter. He has other, better things to look forward to anyway.
Naoya takes two long strides to back you up against the cool wall. He looks down at you curiously and raises a graceful finger to trace the curve of your jaw. His hand moves up to wipe a lone tear that spilled past your lash line, and his lips stretch in a cryptic smile at the sight of the little crystalline droplet, now tainted black from your mascara, rolling down your flushed cheek. Naoya likes the way the streak of charcoal watercolor dirties you. You always look best with a tear-stained face.
You can’t say much now, you’ve sealed your fate already and you’re not sure you’d want to tap out even if you could. You like to watch the anger in Naoya’s eyes dissipate, a dark lust slowly weathering down the storm of his ire. All because of you. He looks so handsome like this, when he lets you take care of him.
Naoya barks out a laugh at your lovesick expression, grabbing your cheeks and shaking your face to snap you out of your daze.
“On your knees”, he spits at you. The change in demeanor is immediate. You lower yourself onto the hard tiled floor, the cold seeping in your skin even through the heavy taffeta of your dress. You fold your hands neatly in your lap and look up at Naoya with a poignant fondness that makes him sick. Something odd stirs deep in his gut at the sight of your obedience. A two-headed monster, half resentment and half lust, makes him want to hurt you then reward you for your willful servitude.
You watch him, mouth aghast, as he undoes his tie with one hand, the other slowly encircling your neck. He barely applies any pressure, content to keep his touch light around the soft skin of your throat. You know better than to trust this fleeting softness. Soon enough, he pushes his fingers into the sides of your neck and squeezes. His touch is anything but conversational now - the dig of his nails in your skin is vindictive. You merely gasp but don’t back away. Naoya seems mildly displeased at that, uncurling his hand away from your neck and lightly shoving your face to the side as he snarls, “Can’t you play along ?”.
You want to play along. You crane your head back, exposing more of your throat. He smiles.
“That’s better”, Naoya croons. You melt into nothing at the faintest hint of praise.
His pace is leisurely when he loops his tie around one hand and dangles it in front of you, brushing the expensive silk deceptively softly against your heated skin. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation when he finally winds it around your neck, fastening a tight knot and wrapping the loose end around his fist. The first tug is tentative and barely makes you drop your jaw open. Naoya tuts, tugging harder this time, and he finally seems content when you let out a panicked gasp.
Using his tie as a make-shift leash, he jerks your face into his crotch. He’s half hard already, cock stiffening to life embarrassingly fast when you shamelessly rub your face against his too-tight trousers. The effect you have on him emboldens you enough to look right into his eyes as you brush the outline of his length straining against his thigh, the dark fabric of his suit doing nothing to conceal how much he needs this.
Naoya lets out a muffled groan when your nimble hands move to undo his pants, his breathing strained from the faintest brush of your fingertips against the head of his cock. You probe at the wet spot darkening his boxers, mouth watering when his cock twitches weakly under your hands. For now, you’re just content to stroke him over the ruined fabric of his underwear, doe eyes widening at how every brush of your hand against him has his cock leaking more and plastering the wet fabric to his sensitive length.
“Stop fucking teasing”, Naoya warns you with another tug of his tie. He was never really one for foreplay, you reckon. Reluctantly, you peel down his boxers and free his cock, gnawing at your bottom lip at how heavy it looks when it springs free and slaps against his white shirt. Any reservations you might have had are quickly forgotten when you wrap a small hand around him, swirling your thumb around the messy head of his cock, while you fumble around with the buttons of his shirt, eager to see the trail of dark hair leading to his pelvis and Naoya whines - guttural and genuine, for once. Pride simmers low in your gut and you eagerly pepper small kisses down his stomach, scratching your nails lightly against his pearly white skin before brushing into the neatly-trimmed patch of pubic hair, your own mind growing hazier at every little breathy sound of pleasure bubbling past Naoaya’s pretty lips.
Looking up at him sends another jolt of arousal to your core. He looks so disheveled already, a light pink blush dusting his high cheekbones and you’re not sure if it’s desire or the shame of breaking down so easily in your hands that has him closing his eyes tightly.
He still has the presence of mind to pull harder on your leash, hissing through gritted teeth, “Think you have the upper hand, you fucking slut ? Do what you’re good for, finish what you started”.
His words are devoid of their usual bite, and even as he towers over you and shoves your face right in his cock, he looks uncharacteristically weak. You still oblige, not before shooting him a knowing small smile that has his blood boiling and his dick jumping in your hand. Closing your eyes to offer him a reprieve from your piercing eyes, you lick a long stripe for his base to his messy tip, laving it with kitten licks to coax more of his precum out of his already sloppy dick.
You smear the mixture of pre and spit over his whole length, your free hand cupping his balls, and Naoya actually moans, high pitched and needy when you twist your wrist and start jerking him off quickly, taking his overly sensitive head in your hot mouth and suckling on it so sweetly he thinks he’s falling for you all over. You’re so good to him, zealous and eager to please, that he doesn’t even have to ask before you’re moving your hand away and slowly sinking his dick in your mouth. It feels like heaven, the pent-up stress of the earlier fiasco already melting away as you take more and more of him into you, and he breathes a sigh of relief when his length hits the back of your throat. Naoya finds himself in a generous mood, you’ve been so good to him after all, so he remains unmoving for a while as you adjust to his girth stretching your swollen lips wide. That kindness is short-lived though, and soon enough he tugs the tie back, pulling you away before guiding himself in your mouth again.
He sets a rhythm of deep, long strokes that’d be painful if you weren’t so used to it already. How many times have you done this by now ? Dropping to your knees and letting him fuck in your awaiting mouth, making a mess of your throat, has become second nature to you.
It’d be demeaning if it didn’t earn you so many pretty sounds of pleasure from Naoya, stifled groans fading into breathy whimpers and whines, and you commit all of them to memory, each one a token of his covert affection for you.
Naoya’s pace picks up when you start echoing his labored breathing with choked moans of your own, each time pushing in deeper in your mouth until his aching cock breaches into the tight sleeve of your throat. You gag around him a little, instinctively trying to pull away from the foreign intrusion, but a mean tug on his tie keeps you there. He doesn’t even offer you the reprieve of pulling out this time. You let out a pained moan around his cock, misty eyes pleading wordlessly for him to pull away but he doesn’t. Naoya just smiles, an odd sense of serenity settling over his usually scrunched features, and reaches one hand to your throat to feel himself there. His touch is cooling, every graze of his fingertips against the column of your throat thawing at your panic and you slowly even out your breathing, even with how deeply he forces himself in your mouth.
Something entirely different takes over now, lust brewing deep in your gut. You shift a little, trying to quell the embarrassing throbbing of your core by grinding down on your own heels, and Naoya actually laughs. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face to get a good look at your glassy eyes and the fine lines of drool falling past the seams of your lips.
“So messy”, he tuts, catching your spit then smearing it on your cheek. You choke around him, a feeble protest quickly silenced by the cruel push of his twitching dick even deeper into your throat.
“You actually like this, don’t you ?”
He doesn’t expect an answer, doesn't even really need one. Naoya just pulls out slightly and drives himself into your mouth, hard. You cry out incomprehensibly, helpless but so aroused, and reach a shaky hand to his thigh to steady yourself when he starts a cruel pace.
In and out, in and out - Naoya is a man possessed, taking as much pleasure from how your throat squeezes down on him as he does from your choked moans. He wants to bruise you, cover your face in so much of his pre and your spit that you become unrecognizable, but above all he wants you to like it. You certainly seem like you do, the once subtle rocking of your hips now shameless.
“My good little slut”, he praises, patting your head in an unusual display of fondness.
The word goes straight to your untouched cunt, its bite heightened by the punitive push of his cock in the tight sleeve of your throat. It shouldn’t feel so good, and it shouldn’t sate an unspeakable want that addles your mind but it does. You’re not sure why, maybe because it’s soothing to anchor yourself in the knowledge that you can be good, at least for something or to someone - an indisputable gauge of your worth. Affection is fickle and hard to grasp but the certainty of this - the hefty weight of a cock in your mouth, the promise of it stretching your cunt - is unassailable. On your knees, eyes rolling aimlessly and drooling uncontrollably, you’ve never felt so seen.
Naoya pulls unexpectedly out of your sloppy mouth , grasping your chin to look right in your lidded eyes as he snickers, “Didn’t think you’d enjoy whoring yourself out so much”.
You blink slowly at him, coughing and choking on your own spit and he has to squish your cheeks together, swaying your face side to side to fight off your haze. “So fucking stupid just from sucking cock, what will you be like when you actually get fucked ?”, he snickers, slapping your cheek with his leaking tip. The idea has your mind reeling.
You look at him like you’re asking him to find out for himself and he stares right back at you with the hint of a promise - a threat ? - in his eyes.
He pulls you to feet once more, ignoring the growing burn in his loins and the painful rush of blood to his cock, the skin of his aching length now feeling taut from your spit drying under the cool air. Pushing you to rest your upper body against the marbled sink, he kneels behind you, fumbling with your skirt until he gets a good hold on it and pulls it up to expose you. You whimper in embarrassment when he whistles and runs a curious finger along your covered slit. “So you really are a slut, huh ?”, he muses, tone light and detached even when he pulls your soaked panties down your legs and circles your entrance with a finger.
“Thought I’d just fuck your throat, let some steam off, but this -” he cuts himself off, slicking two deft fingers with his own spit before plunging them in your neglected hole, “ How could I not fuck you now ?”, he barks out a laugh when you immediately squeeze around his fingers and keen.
Naoya is almost in disbelief at how wet you are already, slick pouring out of you and coating your thighs every time his fingers graze a sensitive spot in your pussy, his cock leaping and aching to bury itself in your warmth.
He pulls his fingers out when your cries get louder, standing up to his full height behind you and tapping his cock against your ass. One hand guides his dick between your puffy folds, rubbing the mix of spit and precum you coated him in from your hole to your clit, the other fumbling to pull your neck back with your makeshift leash. He forces you in a deep arch, watching your face in the mirror.
Naoya waits for your glazed eyes to focus on him before slowly sinking himself in your pussy. Your jaw drops when the bulbous head of his cock breaches past the first ring of muscles, and even with how wet he got you, your still hiss at the burning stretch. Naoya can’t be bothered with being gentle though, and he fucks the rest of his painfully hard length into your weeping hole in one, fluid motion. It knocks the air out of you, renders you completely boneless for him to fuck into as he pleases. Each thrust sends a jolt of pure electricity coursing through your limp body, white hot arousal running from your already sore cunt up to your spine.
Everything feels so good, his cock so thick and long it grazes effortlessly into that tender spot deep inside you, then bruises your cervix. You do your best to stifle your moans, acutely aware of where you are - what if someone heard you ? what would people say ? - but Naoya isn’t having it. He lets go of his tie in favor of forcing a finger in your mouth, coaxing you into moaning for him loudly and accentuating the slapping for his pelvis against your ass.
“Don’t act shy now”, he laughs breathlessly, pressing his finger against your tongue and watching you drool.
“I wouldn’t mind being caught like this”, he continues and, to your absolute horror, pulls his finger out from your mouth to slip under your dress and circle your pert clit. You break up in pitiful sobs, clenching impossibly harder around his cock, as if trying to keep him inside you whenever he pulls out. Naoya hisses and throws his head back but his pace doesn’t falter and he pinches your clit between two fingers, rolling it to turn your sobs in keening moans.
“Want to hear you – aah, fuck, you’re so fucking tight– want everyone to hear you be a good girl for me”, he pleads, delirious and so hungry for you, you can’t refuse him. You give into it, letting out wanton moans at every devious stroke of his dick into your sore insides, and in turn Naoya only fucks you faster, pressing into your clit harder.
You’re so fucking close, your whole body flashing with white hot pleasure and what sends you over the edge is Naoya’s fevered praise when he lets out incoherent strings, barely audible over the loud sounds of his skin on yours ;
“Come on, be good, make a mess on my cock - you’re taking me like it’s nothing, fucking hell, this pussy was made for me”.
It’s so filthy, unusually desperate and raw, that it sends you tumbling over the edge with a strained sob of his name. Your orgasm has your cunt squeezing around Naoya’s length so tight, he stills and arches over you, the rhythmic spasming of your walls coaxing his own climax out of him. He comes with a guttural groan, his seed bursting in long and thick spurts and filling you so deliciously it lengthens the ebb and flow of your high.
For once, Naoaya is quiet. He rides out his high and rubs a soothing hand over your stomach with a strange tenderness that somehow feels more intimate than the rest of the evening.
He shifts behind you, still buried deep inside you but now with his arms holding you to his chest, and he clears his throat to say something. Looking at him through the large mirror, you watch his face contort in a boyish expression. Almost bashful. He never does this, never lingers behind or clings to you.
“Thank you”, he mumbles into the crook of your neck. It should sound wrong, off-kilter or entirely odd to be thanked for sex like a common whore. To you it sounds like love in bloom. You’ll take it for now, and hope that, maybe once Naoya learns to be a good heir, he’ll learn to become a good husband.
This will probably be pt.1 of a longer series called Family affairs.
#jjk smut#naoya x reader#naoya zenin#jjk naoya#naoya smut#naoya x you#naoya zenin smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk au
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mónaco l Carlos Sainz
(a/n): this is a very short piece based on one of my favorite songs of all time which, by coincidence, is called Mónaco by Lagos and Danny Ocean. If you listen to it you can picture yourself having a summer romance with Carlos, true story. I'd love to dive deeper into it, but idk I just needed to get it out fast for some reason. hope you like it, feedback is always welcomed<3
summary: pero si algo que nos quedó es todo lo que pasó en Mónaco (but if there’s something left in us then it’s everything that happened in Monaco)
no sé si te acuerdes, de la vez que nos perdimos en septiembre
she'd never forget the warm september night when Carlos took her to the casino for the first time. He still wasn't very familiar with the principality and she was just a fleeting person for a couple of weeks, months, and he couldn't count on her of all people to know the streets of the heavenly Monaco.
As the flutes of Don Perignon continued to flow, he became more and more animated, trying his best to explain the intricate science behind poker and the true meaning behind each card. But despite his best efforts, she found herself unable to concentrate on his words. Instead, she was deeply lost in his eyes, taking in every detail of his sparkling hazel hue.
As she continued to stare, he finally noticed the piercing gaze, causing a warm flush to rise in his cheeks. A shy smile appeared on his lips, and she couldn't resist the urge to lean in and place a gentle kiss on them and when she pulled away, his smile grew wider making her fall deeper and deeper in this announced tragedy.
Everything was good until Carlos realized he was drunk, couldn't drive and didn't remember his address, eyes growing comically large as he came to terms that his alcohol-consumed brain really couldn't remember the name of his street, meaning someone had to drive him and his companion through the beautifully and carefully lit streets until one of you started to recognize his complex and as unusual and absurd of a situation they were in, she couldn't stop giggling as the streets kept passing by in a blur and watched Carlos still trying his best to remember.
tantas veces que tomé tres escalas para verte, creo que me acostumbré a tenerte como si no fuera a acabar.
her time in Monaco was over and Carlos' career in Toro Rosso was steadily climbing, he couldn't afford to take his mind off the track and she understood, she was willing to fly over just to see him.
but it started to fade away.
she was still willing to deal with three layovers to see Carlos, and his caramel eyes still sparkled when he saw her, but there was something missing, this wasn't like their late nights in strolling around Monaco, drinking cheap wine even if they could afford a way nicer bottle.
they weren't stupid, this wasn't meant to last any longer than a couple weeks in autumn, a simple memory, one of those people you can close your eyes and feel their scent, mind playing tricks that maybe if they closed their eyes long enough they might get a feel of the soft skin of each other, running her thumb through his cheek while he tried to fall asleep.
yo sé que para volver ya es tarde, y nuestro plan nunca fue quedarse, no sé si habrá una segunda parte, pero si hay algo que nos quedó es todo lo que pasó en Mónaco.
she stopped flying over, Carlos stopped asking her to spend the weekends off in his apartment, just the two of them
Both reminded themselves this wasn't meant to last, wasn't supposed to create one single string, but they both failed.
chances were, they would find each other again maybe on another holiday, another masters degree, PhD, Grand Prix; a part two, a proper goodbye to te September walks in heels she couldn't take off in order to not get a fine, pouting so Carlos would carry her on his back, as if they knew each other their entire lives.
it wasn't important now.
all they had left was what happened in Monaco.
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translations <3
no sé si te acuerdes, de la vez que nos perdimos en septiembre: i don't know if you remember about the time we got lost in September.
tantas veces que tomé tres escalas para verte, creo que me acostumbré a tenerte como si no fuera a acabar: so many times i took three layovers just to see you, I think I got used to having you as if it was never gonna end.
yo sé que para volver ya es tarde, y nuestro plan nunca fue quedarse, no sé si habrá una segunda parte, pero si hay algo que nos quedó es todo lo que pasó en Mónaco: i know it's too late to come back and staying wasn't our plan, i don't know if there's gonna be a second time, but if something's that's left in us is everything that happened in Monaco.
#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz au#carlos sainz angst#f1 fluff#f1 fics#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you
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As someone else who's in the process of burning out just surviving, and has lost sight of why I enjoyed art in the first place, would you be willing to share some of the things you've tried to get back on your feet? Super glad that you're doing so much better, btw.
First: It's actually become a job for me to help artists reconnect to their art through my mentorship workshop with everything I have learned, and I consider myself very good at it. I've been doing it for about 4 years now. If you or any other artist would like direct help with recovering from burn out please check out the service page of my website and testimonials from previous clients.
To answer your question:
A lot of my own personal stabilization just came as a result of wanting the experience of making art to be comfortable. It wasn't a choice anymore. After my father passed I relaxed for about 3 months -- longest I went without drawing in my life since I started freelancing -- and when I sat back at my desk I just couldn't make myself work under the same pressure. I'd try to force myself to draw and it made me want to cry instead. I quickly learned I could only create if I felt comfortable and drawing felt gentle, so I had to accept moving forward if I wanted to continue being as productive as before I needed to find a way of working that eliminated stress or using will power, which means working in a way that was renovated from the ground up. I couldn't go back. How I was making art was over. I needed it to be repaired. I had no idea what that looked like, so it was truly trial and error.
A fact about me is I have a very high sensory/pain threshold naturally (I also recently learned I was autistic over the pandemic, imagine that has something to do with it) so I've always been historically bad at ignoring my physical limitations because I rarely felt them unless my body broke down on me, and when it did I treated myself with annoyance and forced myself to work through it. I'm talking like no sleeping for 3-4 days straight, or coming home after a kidney stone to finish a comic page still shaky on pain and morphine and then feeling bad at myself for being lazy. To say my old work habits were highly self abusive is an understatement. So when I started addressing everything that was an inconvenience and uncomfortable, it ended up correcting everything I was ignoring or failed to consider a problem until it was past due.
To cut a long story short, a list of material changes to my life that improved my health:
I got medicated, finally. I'm extremely bipolar. Always have been. Drawing between periods of oscillating between feeling divinely invincible vs ideating suicide every waking moment vastly became easier to manage.
I got glasses. I'm farsighted, but it was never a problem for me since I could see fine -- ooor so I thought. Turns out when you're farsighted you're focusing constantly without even realizing it. Turns out getting glasses gave me 80% of my mental space back so I suddenly had more energy, generally more awake, and more focused. No one talks about farsightedness so I had absolutely no idea I was burning myself out physically just being able to see. Worth mentioning!
Started seeing a massage therapist and a chiropractor regularly. I always thought of those things as luxuries, not necessities. Which was extremely stupid. Maintaining my physical body through directly working out kinks in it became something like brushing my teeth or showering -- it's just something you do to make sure health and hygiene isn't making you dysfunctional and rotting you. My body no longer breaks down.
For the same reasons as above, maintained seeing my therapist regularly even if I felt fine or had no issues to work out. I realized I was always quick to end support as soon as I felt I didn't need it anymore (again treating it as a luxury) so making the space in my life for mental/emotional check ins kept my head organized. My therapist is bewildered by me and has no idea what to do with me because she feels she's not doing anything. I just tell her by me making the space for me to explain myself at all, even if all I was doing was describing how I was fine, was the help. She's great.
Got a cappuccino machine. May seem stupid but being able to make gourmet coffees from my kitchen every morning really genuinely improved my life and mind more than getting medicated.
Got a dog. He's amazing. I love him. Very warm and loving companion, and such a gentle soul. He keeps me out of my head and gets me prioritizing walks every day, so my vitamin D intake increased massively. I don't have the luxury of staying in bed for 3 days straight in my depressive episodes anymore. I have to make the effort to leave it at least twice a day to walk and feed him and play with him. Like most people, I'm terrible at prioritizing for myself but will move worlds for those I love no matter where I'm at.
For personal habits I just reflected a lot on why I felt I had to will myself to draw when drawing is something I love doing most. It made no sense to resent doing what you devote yourself to doing. I changed -- and still changing -- my mental framing in how I think of working on art for it to be something I'm eager to do, not obligated to.
Hope this was educational.
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What do you mean by digital cleaning?
It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.
In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.
This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...
So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.
I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.
Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.
If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."
Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.
There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.
I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.
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you think your boy Simon is gonna come back for season 2 or is he all arced out?
LISTEN *GRIPS U* SORRY IM ALL CAPS IM JUST BEING VERY NORMAL RN
SEASON 1 WAS BASICALLY ABOUT GETTING HIM TO THE POINT WHERE HE WAS SIMPLY NO LONGER LOOKING FOR AN EXCUSE TO THROW HIS LIFE AWAY, AND RECOGNIZING/NOT ROMANTICIZING THE CONCEPT OF SACRIFICE IN HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH BETTY BECAUSE OF HOW DISPROPORTIONALLY SHE SACRIFICED HERSELF FOR HIM IN WAYS HE WASN'T COGNIZANT OF.
IMHO:
SEASON 1 BARELY TOUCHED UPON ADDRESSING OR WORKING THROUGH HIS ICE KING TRAUMA. THIS IS MY FIRST MAIN THING I NEED THEM TO TOUCH UPON.
IT CONCERNS ME THAT SIMON DIDN'T EVEN COMPLETELY CONNECT THE DOTS IN THAT ALL THE CRAP WORLDS THEY WENT TO WERE HINGING ON WHO HE IS AND THE IMPACT HIS LOVE AND SACRIFICE (OR THE LACK THEREOF) HAD ON THE WORLD (DID SORT OF FOR A MOMENT IN THE STAR BUT NOT NEARLY ENOUGH IMO)
HE'S OBVIOUSLY STILL PROCESSING HIS YEARS TAKING CARE OF MARCY IN THE APOCALYPSE???? THERE WAS NO FOLLOW-UP WITH HER PHONECALL EVEN IN THE FINAL MONTAGE???? WHAT HAPPENED IN OOO WHEN HE DISAPPEARED??? THESE TWO NEED TO FUCKING TALK FOR REAL
WHAT DOES SIMON'S LIFE LOOK LIKE WHEN HE'S NO LONGER AN EXHIBIT?? HOW THE HELL DID HE BECOME/CONSENT TO BECOMING AN EXHIBIT IN THE FIRST PLACE I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK?? HOW DID HIS LIFE CHANGE SO DRASTICALLY (OR DID IT NOT) FROM OBSIDIAN??
THE MORAL OF "MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE GONE ON THAT TRIP TO AUSTRALIA INSTEAD / WHO KNOWS WHAT LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE" IS SO BAD FOR HIM TO END CONCLUSIVELY ON AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE SEEN BECAUSE THE WORLD STILL FUCKING ENDED??? MAYBE HE FOUND THE CROWN, MAYBE HE DIDN'T, BUT EITHER WAY FROM WHAT WE SAW IN THE ALT WORLDS IT WAS ALL GOING TO END IN TRAGEDY AND MAYBE THIS IS THE ONLY WORLD WHERE WE GET A BITTERSWEET END INSTEAD OF A HELL WORLD THANKS TO THEIR DESICIONS??? IDK!!!!!! I'D LIKE TO EXPLORE THAT CONCEPT I THINK
THE UNIVERSE IS OUT OF HIS NOODLE, BUT DOES SIMON'S HEAD-PORTAL STILL WORK?? CAN HE CONNECT TO FIONNA WORLD IF HE'S IN HIGHLY CHARGED MAGICAL ENVIRONMENTS??? ACTUALLY, WHAT THE HELL ARE THE LONG TERM EFFECTS OF A HUMAN HAVING A UNIVERSE IN HIS DANG HEAD
HE'S CONNECTING WITH ASTRID NOW AND SEEMS TO BE ON MUCH BETTER TERMS, IS SHE GOING TO INSPIRE HIM TO START WRITING FIONNA AND CAKE STORIES AGAIN TO COPE IN A HEALTHY WAY WITH HIS PAST THIS TIME??
SIMON'S RELATIONSHIP WITH ICE THING???
SIMON'S HUMAN PAST IN GENERAL: WHY IS THIS DUDE THE WAY HE IS??? WHY DID HE BELIEVE THE THINGS HE DID, STUDY THEM, MAKE THEM THE THINGS HE HINGED HIS LIFE AND CAREER ON???
ON THAT NOTE: FLASHBACKS. MOTHER FUCKING FLASHBACKS. MORE OF HIS ADVENTURES WITH BETTY. WE ACTUALLY SEE SO LITTLE OF WHAT THEY WERE LIKE TOGETHER WHEN ACTUALLY HAPPY, HUMAN, AND IN A RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER, IN THEIR ELEMENT, AND NOT STRICKEN WITH LIFE-OR-DEATH DESICION MAKING EXCEPT FOR HIS DUMB ASS GETTING BRAINED BY A CHERRY JAR
HIS YEARNING TO FIND BETTY AND APOLOGIZE TO HER WAS "TECHNICALLY" HANDLED IN THE SHOW, BUT YOU CAN NOT TELL ME THIS DUDE DOESN'T HAVE LASTING ISSUES AND TRAUMA AROUND THAT. ABOUT THE FIRST TIME HE PUT ON THE CROWN AND BETTY DISAPPEARING FOREVER. ABOUT THE GUILT AND FEAR ABOUT HER BEING DEAD DURING THE WAR. ABOUT LIVING NINE FUCKING HUMAN LIFETIMES IN A HAZE WHERE ALL HE KNEW WAS HE HURT THE PERSON HE LOVED MOST AND HE JUST NEEDED TO FIND HER. IT BECAME AN INTEGRAL PART OF ICE KING'S CHARACTER, HIS MOST DEFINING TRAIT STRIPPED TO THE STUDS. HE HELD ONTO THAT LAST PIECE OF SIMON PETRIKOV SOME HOW UNTIL SO MUCH TIME HAD PASSED HIS ONLY HOPE TO EVER FIND HER AGAIN WAS TO USE TIME TRAVEL. I'D LIKE SOME MORE OF THAT, IF YOU PLEASE.
HOW IS HE ACTUALLY COPING POST-SEASON 1? WHAT ARE HIS THOUGHTS ON ALL THE WORLDS THEY VISITED, THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO HIM, THE IMPLICATIONS, HIS INTERPRETATIONS? HE MAY BE IN THERAPY BUT HE'S STILL DRINKING.
ANYWAY
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I'd love to hear what fundamental issues you have with spiderverse... 🎤
Hm I'm just gonna rattle off a few from most to least important before I forget (note: some of my issues with spiderverse are less about the concepts or characters themselves but more about how the writers or producers chose to handle them, or even just exploring the possibilities of what could've been. I still think it's a really excellent movie and complex story.)
If you're someone that skims through longer paragraphs a lot, I've also put my most important points in italics so that you get the gist of what I'm saying :)
Making Miles' story about everyone else but Miles. I understand that Miles' whole thing in Spiderverse is that by defying the odds, he inspires the people around him. But there's a certain point where the story become *about that* and the other characters more than him and his interiority. In its efforts to focus on his growing into the mantle of Spider-Man, the films only kind of allude to the fact that he has a life outside of the mask. His mental health and relationship to his community are pushed to the wayside so much that even Ganke is only on-screen for a few minutes at most.
(This is a long one sorry) Spiderverse as a movie doesn't seem to know for sure whether it likes cops or not. It presents the literal police and policing as a concept as something that is inherently neutral, likening it to the mantle of Spider-Man where they simply have power that they have to use responsibly, and that there are just "bad apples". But the way that Spider-Society operates quite closely parallels how policing and criminality work: you have a bunch of spiders go out and detain people and send them where they're "supposed to be" under the guise that a) the order of things will essentially fall apart if you don't, and b) there is a specific way that your story is supposed to go, and you should be willing to sacrifice lives to maintain that status quo. There's also the categorization of those who break those rules as an Other (anomalies), and the fact that Spider Society reacts to the presence of the anomalies instead of addressing the thing that created them (the collider. HELLOOOO). With all that being said, Miguel and the rest of Spider Society are clearly framed as anatgonistic forces by the film and even has a punk anarchist character calling them out and being right about it. The movies simultaneously critique policing metaphorically through Spider Society while trying to justify it in the real world.
Girl where is Pavitr. His character is literally perfect for Miles to interact with, but we don't see him again until the very last scene. Same thing with...literally everyone we just met. The movie is over two hours long, where did all that time go--OH WAIT
Gwen and the scene with her dad take up wayyyy too much of the movie's runtime, I'm sorry. We spent the entirety of the beginning of the film learning information about Gwen and her dad that could've been quickly conveyed in much less time. Not to mention that, apparently, Mr. Stacy literally gets fired in the comics for letting Gwen go, so that whole plotline didn't even need to happen. Why change that? To say he's a 'good cop' that does his job? The trauma of losing Peter would've been present in her story either way.
The art style. No, this doesn't mean what you think it does. I do not have an issue with the 3D and 2D hybrid style of animation obviously. Spiderverse has literally revolutionized the field, but there are some limitations to it that were made especially clear once TMNT:MM came out. You may or may not have noticed, but isn't almost everyone in Spiderverse...kinda gorgeous? Hear me out here. Someone has pointed this out before me, and it really changed the way that I look at aesthetics in animation. In Spiderverse, everything from the environments to the way that things are shaded and colored is extremely stylized and pushed quite far...until you get to the main characters. Yes, there is diversity in features the likes of which we haven't seen 'till recently, but I'm purely talking about the style in which they're drawn. Compared to everything else, they look closer to something Disney or Pixar might produce. This is not inherently problematic or "bad", but I do wonder how much cooler and cutting-edge and comic-y we could get if it wasn't so pre-occupied with beauty. You can disregard this one, it's just a thought. Apparently the idea that not every cartoon character you see on the big screen has to be hot makes people very angry.
I think those are all the big ones. I'll reblog with new additions if for some reason I come up with new things to complain about lmao
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Change of Hands
Thank you all for enjoying my last piece [Pet Safety]. This one is a lot slower, but for all those of you wondering about the Chewtoy's fate. Mostly for @whumppsychology who nudged me into this direction. Might a bridge, towards expanding more on their story.
[masterlist]
Adrian makes a deal.
Content/ warnings: BBU, WRU as a workplace :), BBU romantic, dubcon mentioned (offered, but not acted upon), explicit language, brief suicidal ideation (to escape), brief emeto mention.
Adrian had brought the Chewtoy to the WRU clinic in the business district downtown, hidden away in a room with restricted access; just him, Izzy and one of the nurses, who they knew wouldn't ask any questions.
They'd do their best to stabilise her, while Adrian went on working on the upper floors of the same building as he would on any other day.
He did check in on her every lunch break. The first few days, she was sleeping constantly, or barely awake, her eye glazed over, just staring into the void, sometimes whining softly. She looked small in the bed, vulnerable, in a flowered hospital gown, black plastic collar loosely around her neck. Adrian didn't say anything to her, just checked that she was there, her bandages changed, her medication taken care of.
On the fifth day, she looked at him. Even with half her gaze hidden under the eyepatch, Adrian flinched under the intensity of it. Her eye was of a light gray, like metal, maybe. Stainless steel. Indestructible. He hoped she was.
"Who are you?", she asked.
Adrian raised his eyebrows. Pets weren't supposed to ask questions, he thought. Pets were to address strangers as Sir or Madam. Pets were meant to cast down their gaze, and maybe- maybe- look up submissively through their lashes.
400168 just stared.
"I'm Adrian Delgado," he replied. "WRU pet safety inspector."
She slowly placed a hand on her collar, a soft and sensual motion. This, he recognised, standard romantic protocol. Pets weren't meant to touch their collars, though. "This isn't a shock collar," she stated plainly. "Why not?"
"Because you're here to heal."
"So that you can fuck me later?"
"I..." Adrian took in a sharp breath and shook his head. "No. No, I'm not here to fuck you. I'm here to help you."
"Help me get a better pet?" She smiled wistfully and tilted her head. "Usually that includes fucking, Adrian." The way she said his name sent a thrill down his spine. Soft, a little teasing, a little promising. She was strange, in her behaviour. Didn't mean she couldn't cause just the reactions the company wanted her to.
"No. You... you've been through a lot."
She frowned. "You don't want me, because of the scar. Like... like Jack."
Jack? He hadn't seemed like that type.
"Jack Donnell isn't your owner any longer."
She seemed to ponder on that for a moment. "Good," she said then. "I didn't like him."
"Neither did I," Adrian said.
She grinned a little at that.
"Who owns me now, then? You..." She frowned. "I remember you. You... Did you steal me?"
"I got you back for WRU. Your - Jack... He would have killed you."
"I know." She swallowed, cleared her throat, before she turned away. "I was waiting for it."
Adrian shivered. "You... you wanted to die?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "But I didn't want to live any longer." She looked back at him and he flinched under the despair in her gaze. "Please. Adrian Delgado. I... I don't want to go back."
He nodded, swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, I know. I... I'll do what I can. I'll... Let me make a call."
He all but fled the room.
*
"Give me a sec", Izzy said on the phone, their private lines, untraceable SIM cars. He heard her step out of a room and walk down a corridor. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, dampened in a small room. "Listen, Adrian. Something happened. I can't do that for you any longer. It's not like they're onto us, I hope, I really hope, but there... There was a change in protocol. That second signature I'd need to confirm her death... I have no influence on who gives it any longer. Can't be you any more. And I don't know who it'll be. I... I'm with you in this, I really am, this is the good fight, but there have been irregularities in my cases before and I can't... I can't help you any more. It's stealing. Stealing from the company."
Adrian cast a quick gaze back at the Chewtoy's door. This couldn't be. He'd made a promise. "She can't go back," he said into the phone. "Neither to her owner, nor to the company. She won't make it. Please, Iz."
"I can't help you, Adrian. I have to report her healthy. I..." Izzy sighed. "I know this isn't much solace but... Remember, you're not responsible for her bad decisions, right? She signed up for this."
It took a lot, to hold his breath, keep his teeth clenched, push back the 'Fuck You' that was raging in his chest. Sometimes he thought he'd have made a good Guard Dog himself. There was so much fury simmering inside him, all the time, ready to be tapped into nudged toward a target. All they'd need to do was to make him drop the facade.
He wondered if it would feel good, actually. To attack, instead of holding back.
If that was what the Guard Dogs felt, that he inspected on the daily.
He shook off the thought.
"Okay, Iz," he said instead, his words clipped short. "Yeah. See you later. Bye."
He hung up before she could say another thing.
*
His boss called him into her office less than an hour later.
168 had been asleep when he glanced into her room after the call with Izzy. He hadn't woken her up. He couldn't get her out without help. WRU's buildings were designed to be safe. Once in, it was all but impossible to get out. He hated himself, knowing he'd been the one to take the pet here. He'd relied on their system to work.
He shouldn't have. He should've just driven her to a pet lib safehouse, filed her as a runaway, trusting nobody would look for a scarred, half dead Chewtoy. But then again, they wouldn't have taken her in either. Pet lib were careful, they had to be.
No. Keeping his promise was on him, on Adrian alone. And right now, his boss was about to test him.
"Izzy from the clinic has updated me on the Romantic you've brought in. 400168. She seems to be back on her feet." Kelly waved a manila folder at him. "Why isn't she in a crate back into the arms of the company?"
Adrian fought the urge to close his eyes for a second. He had prepared for that question, at least. He managed to call up an easy smile and give a half shrug. "There've been some inconsistencies in her owner's story. I wanted to talk to her about them, before finishing the report."
"Yeah, about that." She smirked. "We're not going to do this. Jack is a good client. He pulled back that complaint he filed against you, but that's still shed some bad light on us. I've already filed the results. He passed the inspection."
"Why-"
"Because I'm your boss, Adrian. You're a good PSI, one of our best, and I highly appreciate your work. But as a WRU manager, I need to think a step further. And that is, balance the interest of clients and company." Her perfectly manicured fingers drummed on the cover of the the folder. Bright red nail polish. Kelly didn't even try not to be threatening. "That Romantic you brought in, I appreciate the notion. The concept of a Chewtoy is unacceptable. But you should've looked at her file before jumping to action. She's a mess. Runaway Romantic, refurbished, but it didn't go well. Memory problems, periods of being nonverbal, sometimes even catatonic. Seems they wiped out some of that nicely programmed conditioning, too. Company shipped her out anyway, because she was a gift, and Jack Donnell noted, quote, I don't mind a little fight, end quote." Kelly sighed as she slid the folder to him over her desk. "Most customers do mind, actually. And now, with that scar in her face, half blind? She's a liability for the company. If we're lucky, very lucky, she'll at least bring in the treatment costs the clinic charged. But that doesn't cover any of the necessary reprogramming."
Another deep sigh, this one even more dramatic than the last one. "I'll have to consider that lack of business acumen in your upcoming evaluation."
"I understand," Adrian said.
Fuck them, he thought. Fuck the company and their disregard of the least shred of humanity. Fuck the company who'd have just let that woman die, to spare them the hassle.
Still, a dangerously stupid idea started to shape in his mind. He swallowed. "Um, maybe I... Maybe I could offer a solution."
"How?"
The words were out before he could think them through. "I buy her. I've collected enough bonus over the years for a product discount, right? That should be what, 50k by now? Covers her clinic bill, doesn't it?"
"She'll still need another refurb."
"What if I take her without it?"
Kelly chuckled. "Oh Adrian, I had clearly underestimated you. You'll spend your 50k bonus on a disfigured, broken Romantic with runaway tendencies, just to protect your career opportunities?"
That was the only thing that made sense to her. Adrian felt sick to the bone as he forced himself to grin at her. "Depends. Would it work?"
Kelly pursed her lips, and he could almost see the calculations running through her head. "Hm. It would," she said finally. "And you know what, I think we could throw in some refreshers on her discipline still. No Drip, that stuff is insanely pricey. But some bedroom specifications that cater to your liking will sure be on the table."
Adrian grinned over the disgust knotting in his stomach. "Perfect. Let me take her home first, see how she behaves. And then I'll come back to that."
Kelly tilted her head, fingernails hitting into the keys. "I'll prepare the transaction. Appreciate the move, Delgado, really. Maybe you actually do have a future in this company."
"I certainly hope so." Adrian smiled, and kept the smile up until they'd shaken hands and he'd left her office, strolled down the corridor, taken a sharp right turn, locked a bathroom stall behind him.
Then he threw up.
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Hi,
I'm the anon with the less than favourable takes on Fabian that could and should either have been worded better or not said at all, and I'd like to both say I'm sorry for sending you that and perhaps expand on my original meaning.
I wasn't originally going to put Fabian on the list and I really should have left him off it, had I taken a moment longer to think it through.
Fabian's presence in this season has been exceptional and I always think Lou brings his best to any table he's at. The bits about Fabian looking for love in people who reflect himself has come from Lou’s own choices and have been interesting, but the other players have oftentimes pushed this idea that with Fabian's popularity comes a need or want for him to, I guess lose his virginity? Which I find kind of awkward to have as a reoccurring thing. The jokes about Mazey and K2 have all originated from other players making comments or initiating bits that Lou “yes and"-ed.
I think – throughout this season especially – Lou has played Fabian as a very empathetic and maturing character who's having a hard time feeling isolated from his family and friends and I love him trying to make amends with his nemesis list and pushing for a story where he can get a smidgen of help from any adult presence in his life, which is what all The Bad Kids need.
That's why it felt weird when Ivy was killed and Fabian offhandedly said really weird things about her that the audience isn't really sure is true about her, making it come off as more of a reflection of Fabian in that very moment than anything else, even if it's not actually true about him. It felt more like Toxic Masculinity Fabian talking than anything, and maybe that will be addressed next episode, which I would be happy to see explored more. How anger and rage can make you go back on progress you've made previously, perhaps. I don't particularly like Ivy, but I just felt it stood out as an awkward moment where I was pulled out of the show.
All this to say, that I didn't mean to bring such negative energy to what is otherwise interesting topics in storytelling that I like to see discussed, and I will take more time to think through and process my thoughts before posting them, because I should know that intent doesn't negate impact.
Thank you and once more, apologies.
(post in question)
Apology whole-heartedly accepted, anon :-). And you really don't have to apologize for sending me the ask - I really did enjoy a lot of it! I'm glad I received it and had a conversation started. And I'm glad that you didn't take my criticisms as personal attacks - I was worried it'd seem like I was responding in bad faith, so I'm really glad it didn't come across that way.
I definitely agree that the Fabian moment was just... so deeply weird. And it really does feel like Toxic Masculinity Fabian. Bitch with a hard B? Come on, man.
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Audio Drama Sunday - 24th December ❄️✨
A very festive Audio Drama Sunday to you all! I think Christmas has come early this year because so many of my current fave shows gifted us new episodes this week!
🤠 OUGH I’ve made it up to ep 9 in @caravanradio and this is where it starts absolutely punching me in the heart. I’m so excited to listen to ep 10 but then it’s over AGAIN. All I want for Christmas is S2 of Caravan to be perfectly honest.
🧳 Travelling Light by @monstrousproductions (7) This episode made me feel homesick for a culture that doesn’t even exist. I found the philosophy discussed so interesting and keep mulling it over! I don't know what metaphorical shoreline I'd be considered part of!!
👁️ I bloody loved Benevolent by @malevolentcast. They absolutely nailed the cheesy Christmas special vibe and I was so happy to hear the long-awaited return of arguably the best character in anything ever at the end there.
🌒 @monkeymanproductions I loved the answers to the MTO Q&A! I just adore this show and it’s always so interesting to get the behind the scenes scoop!! I really do want that Cass-only episode though. Pretty please?
🎙 Welcome To Night Vale (240) ahhh!!!! What does this mean?! If this is going to be an exploration of nature vs nurture I am so here for it. Let’s . . . maybe let’s not kill our doubles this time?
🏛 @the-mistholme-museum RUINOUS. Oooh I love a twist on a fountain of youth story and this one was particularly gripping. There are so many new revelations so far this season and I’m thrilled to hear that we’re getting two more episodes! I don’t want it to end!
🎧 Yay more The First Episode Of with @starshipqstar. It was absolutely fascinating from a very indie creator POV to hear how people with talent and experience found approaching audio drama for the first time. But I also think it’s important to address the DEEP SADNESS that there will not be a Starship Q Star season 2!! What?!! Christmas is CANCELLED.
🐬 The dolphin emoji I use to denote @patterspod has never been more apt as we met Big Wave Dave in the latest episode. If you like weird and you’re not listening to Finding Pattersby, I just don’t know what to tell you. It’s just something else.
🌨️ @thewhitevault (4) oh MAN I love this show so much. I refuse to believe that a certain character is really dead but … maybe they are, I just can’t accept it. It sounds as though something absolutely monumental is happening to the show’s main family and I need to know how the stories are going to entangle!!!
❤️🔥 The Love Talker (5) Jeeeeesus this show almost makes me regret listening to it every episode. I love this set-up where we get a new character’s perspective each episode, every new piece of the puzzle is even more disturbing than the last.
🏢 @somewhereohio (S2E3) oh no! It’s spreading!! It’s honestly a little funny to me to listen to the show as someone who has no context of what makes Ohio, Ohio. I’m sure I’m missing a lot of cultural context but also, after listening, I’m probably not going to visit . . . also it’s great to hear Rae Lundberg popping up in new shows - they always do such a good job!
🧬 Regina Prime - What a fun departure from the world we think we know in this bonus Regina Prime episode! I feel like the next season is going to be even more expansive and I’m very excited for it!! It’s also made me realise that I no longer trust W Keith Tims in anything after listening to The Love Talker!
I hope everyone’s having a wonderful festive season! I’m going to be doing the #12DaysofPodmas again where I post an official review of a show I love every day until Jan 5th as a little gift to the amazing creators who’ve made my year so much better! I’m sure they’d love it if other people did the same! ☃️
#it's 23:51 lol#enjoying the last 9 mins of audiodramasunday as god intended#audio drama sunday#audiodramasunday#caravan podcast#travelling light#moonbase theta out#malevolent spoilers#the love talker#regina prime#welcome to night vale#finding pattersby#the white vault#the department of variance of somewhere ohio
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Media Issues "The Protagonist is Right!"
Now when I say The Protagonist is Right! I'm really referring to two different problems I see a lot of media, mainly series, tend to fall into. While both can show up at once, the two are usually separate. I'd also like to be clear I'm talking about media that agrees with their protagonist, not the protagonist is meant to be wrong and that's the point like Fight Club
I will be using two series I like to explain the two versions. The Promised Neverland & My Hero Academia (both manga, TPN finished, MHA up to chapter 411). I'll try to be vague but spoilers, this also means some oversimplifications be warned
TPN - The Protagonist is Right! because it's the right answer
On a math test this one forgot to show their work. The Protagonist has come to an answer most can see as right (either the audience and/ or the rest of the cast), how they got there however is either not shown, or not there to begin with.
After escaping Grace Field, Emma very quickly decides to be as pacifist as possible when it comes to the demons, along with those she escapes with. While she is briefly exposed to nonviolent & friendly demons, she also gets exposed to some of the most sadistic. Outside of it's technically possible, we don't see much of why Emma is to the point of protective over the demons
A few ways they could of better shown Emma's logic would be for her to see how average demons suffer in this system with no alternatives due to the government. Having her meet one of the every few humans she never met in the manga, who had a deep familial connection to a demon. Or even (at least partial) disbelief that genocide against the demons would work, even if just in the long term.
To simplify: humanize the demons directly, have her influenced by another, belief that other methods wouldn't work. Combinations and other solutions are options but these ones were easy to express
While less effective for the audience she could have also argued her reasonings instead of just her final point. It is an option to reference things happening outside of what is directly shown to make things feel more real. It is also a particularly potent issue as after escaping the farm the story relies on Emma being around for almost anything to get done despite not previously having this issue
MHA - The Protagonist is Right! because they are the protagonist
This is where even if the work is shown (this one is more likely to take elements from the former) there is a large amount of evidence against the Protagonist's answer. This often comes from creators being unable to let their protagonists be wrong, and thus either be treated as wrong, or change perspective and/or goals etc
From the very start of the series MHA has had strong references to inequality, and issues in hero society. The protagonist Izuku Midoriya was originally a minority (quirkless) and we see that at the bare minimum he faces a lot of discrimination in his school for it, and implication that there is a lot of discrimination outside of it. Due to circumstances he gets a quirk and in no longer a minority, and the discrimination he faced is never addressed or brought up in any critical way again. It effects his ability to use his new quirk, but his outlook is never challenged by it
We see numerous types of discrimination, and corruption both directly from hero society and as a consequence of it as the series progresses. What we don't ever see is Midoriya, or anyone else the story frames as right, thinking anything needs to be done to the system. Most of the solutions we see him 'proving' that he is a good hero is doubling down and wish really hard, without ever changing anything of course.
A huge part of this issue comes from and is demonstrated by Endeavor. Who is guilty of child & spousal abuse and neglect, over getting second place in an ongoing contest, out of thousands. At the start he is shown completely in the wrong but once he starts his 'atonement' arc (it is treated like a full redemption more often than not) than it's like the narrative became allergic to calling him bad, constantly softening what he did, and glorifying his minimal improvements. This is seen in both the framing of the story on its own, as well as the other heroes, most of his family and hero students, that is including Midoriya, knowing full well what he's done. Those who do criticize him after his 'atonement' are framed as stubborn at best to outright wrong for it
In short we see reason after reason that the system isn't working. But we never see this reflected in the heroes we're supposed to be rooting for, not even a 'things need to change'. He keeps saying he wants to help but he and everyone else is unwilling to address the current issues as they are, or what led to them.
#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#meta#writing#the promised neverland#bnha deku#mha deku#tpn emma#tpn manga#mha manga#mha spoilers#tpn spoilers#spoilers
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The Only Path (Spoilers)
Given that Alteon didn't bite back at Sepulchure's hard blows, even when taking into consideration that he feels accountable for much that has happened during his rule, I'd say it's a safe bet that Alteon feels extremely guilty for Valen choosing to don the Doomknight armor, if that wasn't evident enough from the last quest. Even moreso that he refused to come out challenge Sepulchure directly when he attacked all of Greenguard. Furthermore, there is the indication that Alteon more than understands why Valen became Sepulchure which is why he seems to refuse to bring up the immorality of his actions during the orb saga. It is evident that what happened between him, Valen, and Lynaria bind the two in a way that he feels he couldn't truly believe that
Clearly much of their original strife began surrounding events regarding Lynaria and yet much would imply we are still missing heavy details here that sets them apart from what occurred in AQW's timeline. Which makes me wonder again if there any more hints or clues Valen's story regarding his background in this timeline. I doubt it but it is something to ponder.
Also...
I know this is technically helping and that the person whose body that used to belong to is either straight up dead or is having their soul pilot a golem now but it just feels wrong.
Yeah you and Xan are so getting dragged to Celestia's grave when this over buddy
Ah but we finally have a plan to deal with Akanthus!
And it's to toss him into the trashbin where he belongs.
Alright jokes aside, this is somewhat of solid plan...in theory. We have no means of hurting Akanthus nor keeping him under confinement on Lore so it makes sense that perhaps the best solution is just throw him into completely different reality and hope at best that it kills him or at worst takes him forever to find his way back out.
The problem here though is that nothing in the Void might actually be able to harm him either so he eventually might find his way back. The Void having its own core might override that fact as well the fact this void pearl might place him in an unpleasant part of the Void to keep him occupied but this would seem to only delay the inevitable. I am curious if Akanthus could even be affected by Void Madness.
The other problem of course is pointed by the Hero right here:
The last thing the Land of Dragons need is yet another rift leaking out all manner of ugliness and madness that's associated with the Void. The pearl potentially allowing something to come in from the Void seems high given the Magesters haven't properly tested it either.
There is however yet another problem addressed in this particular moment
I'VE FAILED TO EDUCATE THE DRAGON CHILD!!!
There is a bright side to this quest though
BRITTANY IS AWAKE AND SEEMINGLY WELL!!!
It's also nice to know here that Victoria does have an out if she no longer wants to sit on the throne anymore but it is equally a joy that she's no longer as alone nor as ungrounded as she was when was originally forced to take up the crown's mantle to deal with Jaania and the Rose.
Finally there's this....
If I didn't know any better I'd say this was from our dear water elemental invaders from the Deadlands rift. Which if true I find their comments concerning and not just about invading part. In fact, I find it most worrying that they consider the Deadlands to be more suitable to inhabit than the Elemental Plains.
Past observations would lead one to assume that these Water Elementals hail specifically from the Elemental Plane of Water, much like the Lagohmorphs with the Manufactory, and unlike the Rifts that indicate their combatants came from the parts of the Elemental Plain that are designated as the Wastes. This would lead to the assumption that if that is the case then these Water Elemental's home are under control and stabilized when compared to the condition of the Wastes. Yet this speaker indicates that wherever they are from their place of origin is far too chaotic and imbalanced for their liking.
This leads me to two potential train of thoughts. The first is that these are in fact water elementals from the Elemental Plane of Water that Neso created and the Plane has been in a state of disarray and decay since she and the other Avatars were reduced to orbs due to Notha and Myalos fight with them. A problem likely made worse by the fact that we know that the Wastes has "heroes" and beasts that the Plane of each element has to likely defend itself against. Although unlike the Manufactory for the Lagohmorphs, the inhabitants of the water plane are likely not fairing as well when confronting the absence of their Avatar and are simply looking for a means beyond their own Plane to escape the chaos.
The second thought is that these water elemental are actually denizens of the Wastes that miraculously have managed to lockdown a section of it dedicated to water but without the influence or support of Neso. The problem with this though is as expected. They are still in the Wastes while doing this, meaning they would be under a much heavier assault of the chaos that is often noted to occur in the Wastes due to the clash of the elements for dominance.
The first thought admittedly seems more likely but I'll be intrigued if it somehow manages to be the latter.
Also I'm absolutely loving this Timeless drip for my alt.
#dragonfable#df spoilers#df lore#I'm still laughing at the fact that the plan to deal with Akanthus is to throw him into Lore's garbage bin#Can't wait to hear the full details as to what went down with Valen#20 gold the Void pearl goes haywire and out pops an eldritch horror#we have yet to teach draco how to read
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Clavell x GN!Reader (Sorta)
"May I Have A Word With You?"
A story where Clavell sees how well you are around the kids of the older academy goers.
You're like a cool older sibling/pibling (gender neutral for aunt or uncle) to them, and you're able to distract and calm them down when they come to the academy for special events/occasions. Some even remember you when they enroll later! Clavell admires someone who can make an impact like that.
Also why does this man not have any of his quotes on Bulbapedia that would've helped so much
Tone/Ending: Wholesome, Open-Ended
Warnings: The kids can be R O W D Y, and your expy almost swears once or twice, that is all
Continuity?: This story uses lore from/takes place at the same time as my previous full story ("Where The Heart Is"), but it doesn't need to be read as part of the same timeline to make sense
Word Count: A bit more than 4,000
-O-O-
"ALRIGHT, YOU RUG RAAAAATS!!"
Your voice could be heard from the gates of Mesagoza. The children in the courtyard abruptly stop their shenanigans. A young boy speaks up first, addressing you by name. They all seem to know you well enough to know your name and that you mean business, even if you are "the fun one" along with Dendra.
"Yes, Zale?"
"How much longer until the... the..."
A girl around his age speaks up.
"Treasures Within Fun Fair?"
He perks up.
"Yeah! That! How long until that starts again?"
You smile, although your eyes gave away the answer.
"Not for a while, I'm afraid. About 4 hours."
They all groan in unison. Another kid speaks up.
"Then why did Mama bring me so early?"
You answer.
"So you could be here on time?"
Another kid speaks up. If something crazy was happening, you could almost guarantee Geráneo was behind it. He crossed his arms.
"Yeah, but being on time like this is boooring! I'd rather run at super lightning speed to make it."
The other kids 'oooh'ed, although the girl from before, Auyama, looks positively confused.
"Super lightning speed?? How'd you get that fast?"
He was not at all perturbed by her question.
"My cousin caught a Zeraora back in Alola, I train with him whenever I visit."
The kids seemed impressed, clapping and 'oooh'ing again, even if one looked bewildered and said "Zera-who-a?" You... doubted his claim, although the speed with which he lied if he did lie... concerned you. You couldn't help but shake your head in amusement, however. You remember coming up with wild theories on how to find the mythical Mew roamimg around here in Paldea...
You decided to let them talk amongst themselves, all of them talking about weird Pokémon encounters they've had, including a Deerling that "turned to goo" near the Treasure Eatery, and a Slowpoke one of their brothers got really excited catching for some reason, even though it seemed to be a normal-old Slowpoke, just a little less pink. It amused you, both because of how much it sounded like yourself and because of how those truly special encounters weren't understood by them yet.
"Wild little goobers..." You say to yourself.
You idly imagined them going "WAIT A MINUTE" one day in a few years (probably after 3 seconds of Jacq's class) when you heard a familiar voice.
"Ah, yes, the imagination and curiosity of children knows no bounds!"
You turned to see him, the Director.
"Ah, Clavell!"
You smiled brightly at his sudden appearance.
He greeted you back.
You asked, "Oh, how's the fair comin' along?"
He hummed, looking up and to the side as if trying to remember what else needed to be done.
"Well, we still need to set up a bit more, especially things pertaining to our main events, but we are thankfully still on the right track. We should be done with time to spare."
He smiled, staring at you from the side with his arms behind his back. He really was proud of this academy. You couldn't help but grin as well.
"Aw F-"
Your eyes widen as you quickly realize what you were about to do, kids turning to look at you. Even Clavell seems shocked by your exclamation, turning to you, mouth slightly open.
"...ffffff... fuuuuuuueCOCO! Yeah! I remember seeing Nemona with hers. Has it evolved yet?"
Clavell, ever the gentleman, accepts your out.
"Why, yes, it did. It first evolved by the time she reached Levincia, I believe. It is now the strongest Skeledirge in Paldea."
You nodded. She really did have a Fuecoco at the start of her treasure hunt last time around. Only thing is, this was three years ago. You internally breathe a sigh of relief having remembered that, pretending you just didn't pay attention to her journey after she went at it again, even if the answer would be obvious even to the kids.
Clavell decides to corral the children while their attention is on you two.
"Alright, little ones. It is time we head back in for a while, we don't want you too tired to enjoy the festivities, do we?"
They all groan, not wanting the fun to end. He makes a compromise to soothe their boredom.
"When you go inside, you can help us decorate by making your own lanterns! I am certain all the teachers would love them. Besides, we could use some helping hands to finish setting up before the academy opens up to the rest of the town. You can be the first people to try our stalls."
This interested them greatly.
"Ooh, OOH! Mine's gonna shoot LIGHTNING!"
"Oh yeah, well mine's gonna be on FIRE, and it WON'T burn."
"Mine's gonna look ICY and FROSTY, it's gonna be so pretty!"
They all talked and ran into the entrance hall. You run up to Clavell to apologize for almost swearing in front of the kids, walking alongside him.
"Heyyy... uh... sorry for the, um, outburst."
He holds a hand up.
"Nonsense. You caught yourself before any damage was done. That alone is apology enough."
You thought on this. Maybe it really wasn't anything.
"But, do be more careful. You might not have another way to save yourself next time."
He looked at you out the corner of his eye, although you could tell he was smirking. He then hurried off to catch up with the children and get them settled, leaving you at the bottom of the steps before you could really process what the smirk meant.
-O-O-
Their parents and guardians all came by to have lunch with them. It had been an hour and a half of them making lanterns to hang up around each teacher's stands. The results so far were... interesting, to say the least, although it seemed like they changed their mind and instead went for a theme that requires working together somewhat.
One kid decided to dedicate theirs to Tyme, but they glued various flat and colorful rocks all over it, which would definitely weigh it down. Another dedicated theirs to Salvatore, writing "Hi!" in different languages, but they kept needing to scribble words out until they eventually started over and decided to look up the real spellings, so they were slightly behind the others.
One is trying to make Dendra's look like a punching glove, one added plastic sprinkles to theirs for Saguaro's cupcake lantern, one even drew themselves using the Pokédex app on Jacq's... all the teachers had a kid here that admired them the most, and that made you feel an overwhelming sense of pride.
You weren't a staff member, only coming by to help set up stuff like this by offering some extra hands, but you wondered if this place could use a daycare. It didn't seem necessary, seeing as though usually only students are here, but something along those lines, like a place for younger non-students to be all day during times like this, or even just a room to de-stress. Perhaps you can have a club started with games and social nights?
Your thoughts were interrupted by Clavell.
"Ah, there you are. I've been looking all over for you."
He comes in, looking around at the art supplies strewn about.
"Ah, I must make sure Mr. Hassel has help clearing this up later..." he said.
"I'm sure he will, Director."
You then remembered what he said when he came in.
"Oh! Is there a reason you were looking for me?"
"Ah, yes indeed! Follow me, we can talk on the way there."
'On the way there?' You thought.
-O-O-
He took you to a quiet, shaded area in Mesagoza. He had picked up a small bag in his office on the way, filled with who-knows-what. You sat on a bench nearby, patiently waiting for him to continue the conversation.
He had asked you a few questions, such as how you felt about the academy and if you'd ever consider working for it. You had said you loved the place, and you did wonder what it'd be like to help in a more official position than "lives nearby and is summoned to aid in official events". He seemed pleased with your answers.
As you sat, he brought out an academy branded thermos.
"Would you like some coffee? I know the little ones can be a handful at times..."
You nodded and accepted gratefully.
"I brought some sugar and creamer with me, use whatever you like, if you like of course..."
He handed you the bag before sitting back again.
"Er, speaking of the children..." He began. "How do you feel about them?
You paused. You hadn't really put much thought into it, sorta naturally ending up taking care of them instead of ever being assigned the role and, of course, wondering if you'd work well with them all day long. You guessed that was an answer, strangely enough.
"Oh, they're cool! I like watching over them, wild as they are. It's sorta nice seeing what the next generation does and talks about."
He smiled and nodded, adjusting the contents of his own thermos as he spoke.
"Ah, I had a feeling you'd say that. I can tell you have a knack for understanding and guiding them."
That... felt a little more sincere than you thought it'd be. Like, of course he wouldn't lie about that, but there seems to be an undercurrent of "this wasn't just small talk, I felt it in my heart" in the way he took your answer in.
He really does bare his heart and soul into this academy.
You idly wonder why he wasn't already the director when the brunt of the Team Star stuff was going on when he speaks up. He silently takes in your pondering expression, slightly tilting his head with a smile on his face.
"Ah, I see that question evoked some deeper thoughts than I anticipated."
You blink, suddenly aware of your surroundings again.
"Oh, yeah! It sorta did, hah."
The two of you idly chat for a while, conversation now skewing towards random goings-on, such as Paldea's youngest champion riding around on their 'Raidon', and the possibility of another school trip to a different region. You suddenly get a strange feeling in your gut.
"Wait, the event! Lunch will be over soon, won't it?"
He thinks, looking up at a park clock.
"Yes, it appears so."
He looks back at you, your alarmed expression still evident, although not nearly as strong as before.
"Are you worried about it? If so, do not worry, I have plenty of time to get back. The children's guardians will still be watching over them, so you have time as well."
These words helped a bit, but you felt the need to run back now. You didn't know why you suddenly feel the need to make it back to watch them. Call it a gut feeling. You just want to make sure they don't get into any mayhem while preparations are still ongoing, guardians there or not.
That felt weird to think about. Why wouldn't the parents watch them? You didn't need to worry, it's just that you aren't really used to not watching them before and during events at this point.
"Alright, Director. I'll be sure to not stress myself out too much."
He smiles and nods before standing up.
"Well, I must be on my way. Do take care, and no worries about that bag and thermos. Consider it a small gift for being such a good babysitter."
He flashed you a grin. You return it, although your mind wanders to something else as he makes his leave.
'Why did he already have this coffee made?'
You look up, but he had already sprinted off.
-O-O-
You were aimlessly wandering around Mesagoza.
'I DO deserve a break.' You thought to yourself.
You walked up to a vendor.
'I'm bored.' You immediately realized.
Walking up the stairs to get back to the academy, you noticed the kids surrounding a Skiddo.
"My mom said I need to learn to ride a Skiddo before I can get a Cyclizar."
Oh?
You get closer before realizing it's Geráneo.
"What she doesn't know is that I'm secretly a master Pokémon whisperer already."
A what?
The kid with him, Pimento, seemed equally confused.
"How do you know? What Pokémon do you know how to talk to?"
He huffed before responding.
"PSSH, like, all of 'em?? I have a natural talent. Watch this!"
He jumped on the back of Skiddo, who didn't do much other than make a small bleating noise and readjust itself afterwards.
"See?? He didn't even flinch!"
Pim seemed unsure.
"You sure? He flinched a little when you hopped on..."
Geráneo, seemingly offended by this, crossed his arms and glared menacingly at him.
"Um, of course he did?? I have too much muscle for him to handle."
Pim, still unconvinced, but wishing to just play with his friend, accepted this answer.
"Okay..."
You stood there, unsure if this was something you needed to intervene in or not. You looked around to see if anyone was already keeping an eye on the two when you heard a "c'mon!" followed by a Pokémon crying out. Turning back, Geráneo wasn't there anymore, and Auyama was screaming, pointing somewhere.
"GERÁNEO IS GOOOOOONE!!"
Oh Gods, this situation certainly needs an adult. You run over to Pim and Yama.
"WHAT HAPPENED??"
"Geráneo pulled Skiddo's horns too hard! He took off overrr... there!"
You turned, looking over to where they pointed. Skiddo was bucking around on the battle court with Geráneo hanging on for dear life.
All this in the .3 seconds you turned around??
"Ok, I'll get them!"
You ran down to calm the mon down, only for it to freak out and start running towards the outer walls of the city.
"Uh-Oh, that's no good..."
The Skiddo keeps running around the city.
"Does that Skiddo have an owner??"
Zale answers from above.
"Yeah! His aunt caught it for him! You want its Pokéball!?"
"Yes, please!"
You run over, positioning yourself so you can catch it when he tosses it over.
It lands in the flowerbed in front of you instead. Good enough.
"Thanks!"
You start to run after them when you realize... there's no way you'll catch up with a skittish Skiddo on foot.
The kids seemingly realize this as well.
Auyama offers something to make things easier for you.
"You wanna borrow my dad's Mudsdale?"
-O-O-
You're riding through the streets of Mesagoza. You'd have to ask why Mudsdale was in the possession of a 7-year-old later. For now, you were immensely grateful for any way to reach the troublemaker and his Skiddo.
"GERÁNEOOO?? GERÁNEO! IF YOU HEAR ME, SAY 'AYE'!"
It took a moment, but you heard an "Aaaaaaye!!" somewhere near Barato's.
'Goodness me...' You thought to yourself.
You felt awful for some reason, although you questioned why nobody was watching them before you came along. Shaking that thought off, you decided not to worry about the why and instead focus on the now. And right now, Skiddo was dangerously close to jumping over the wall and into even more danger.
"Don't worry! I'm here!"
You readied the Pokéball, aiming in their general direction. Skiddo seemed to not be close enough, as the light didn't return to the ball the way it would if something was caught in it.
'Darn'... you whisper before hearing him again.
"U-up here!"
You and Mudsdale look up, only to see the terrified duo... on top of a roof.
"WHAT IN THE-"
You looked over at a concerned guy nearby, who shrugged violently when he looked back down and noticed your bewildered expression.
'He must've climbed up on one of those ramps.' you thought to yourself. You had to act FAST, dismounting Mudsdale and giving her muzzle a few solid pats.
"Thank you."
The dire horse neighed gently, closing her eyes.
You ran over to the building they were on top of, surveying the situation. You had to think, would it be better to catch Skiddo now, or when you're up on the rooftop? If you get it now, Geráneo might fall. But if you get it on the rooftop, Skiddo might get spooked and go for the leap of fate instead.
You decide on the best course of action in your mind.
"Alright, Skiddo!"
They both turn towards you, faces full of fear.
"Skiddo, you don't wanna hurt him, do you?"
The poor thing was shaking, but it shook its head 'no'."
"Yeah, you just didn't like your horns being pulled, right?"
This time it nods.
You smile softly.
"Yeah, I know. I hate getting my bag caught on stuff all the time, I can't imagine getting a part of me pulled like that!"
The Skiddo's shaking, while still evident, calms slightly. Geráneo seems to feel bad.
"I know you just wanted the weird scary thing that pulled your horns off you. I promise he'll be gentle from now on, but I have to call you back into your Pokéball real quick, Ok?"
Skiddo nodded, gently lowering itself to the ground and allowing Gerá to get off it.
"Ok, here we go!"
You recall the creature, who seems content. Geráneo looks kind of shaken up still, now on his knees.
"Ok, n-n-now what?"
You give him a sympathetic smile.
Wait right there, I'll be up in a second!
You make your way up on the rooftop to meet him. You pause, taking in his fearful little shivers. You felt bad for the kid, all things considered. Maybe he just wanted to prove himself somehow? But he really shouldn't have pulled on Skiddo's horns like that. You'd have to have a gentle conversation with him later on, when tensions weren't so high.
"Geráneo! I'm here for you, bud."
He's shaking. You now notice the tears in his eyes.
"B-but I'm s-s-scared! I don't wanna be up so h-high!"
"I know, but..."
You step closer.
"I'm here. And no matter how wild things get, I'll be there with you. Cause life's kinda crazy sometimes. But you gotta be good, because you don't want things to be even crazier when they don't need to be, right?"
He takes this in before running over and hugging you, tears finally falling.
"I didn't mean to hurt Skiddo!" He trembles in your arms. "I-I just wanted to be cool and get a Cyclizar someday! I didn't know pulling his horns would scare and h-hurt him!"
You pat his head, letting him cry it out.
"Yeah, sometimes people forget other living things feel stuff just like you and me, even Pokémon! Tough as they are. But now that you know, you promise not to be so rough with him anymore?"
"Yeeeees!" He cries, looking up at you.
You smile.
"Good. At this rate, you'll have a Cyclizar in no time!"
He seems to pause at this before backing away a little, wiping his face.
"No, I... think I wanna stick with Skiddo. He'll be my partner 'till the end! He'll even be on my champion team one day!"
He raises his arms at this. He seems to feel better now, imagining a future with his beloved mount Pokémon.
You grin, not even realizing it with how happy you were at this unexpected development. Something about him realizing he didn't need what he saw as the 'cooler' Pokémon anymore and coming to appreciate Skiddo on its own made your heart feel warm.
"Well then, don't you wanna say sorry to your partner on solid ground?"
He looked confused for a second before remembering you two were on a rooftop, throwing himself at you in a tight embrace.
"OH CRUD, YEAH!"
You snicker before helping the kid down. You decide to tell nobody what he said. He can use bad language this one time.
-O-O-
"So, yeah. I... I'm sorry."
He had his head down, but his tone was sincere.
Skiddo happily jumped around at this, seemingly accepting his apology.
"Oh! Would you like to be my partner from now on? If you still wanna be friends with me, of course."
Skiddo stops his jumping before looking over at Gerá. At first, the boy wasn't sure what to expect until the mon happily rubbed its face on his arm, as if saying yes.
Gerá's eyes tear up.
"Thank you, Skiddo! I promise we'll be the best team Paldea's ever seen!"
He crouches and hugs his Pokémon. You watch the sweet moment play out with pride.
'I did that' you think to yourself, excited to watch Geráneo grow with his buddy now that he saw him for him.
The serenity of the moment is abruptly shattered upon hearing a man's voice shout your name.
"MOTHER FU-"
You look down at the kiddo and his Skiddo, both looking at you. You decide to try and save the moment again.
"Oh mother, far far away, is where I met my dear f-friend."
You grin, a pained expression on your face. The sentence didn't make the most sense, but they didn't question it (probably because the lack of provocation confused them more than the sentence itself.)
The man leans in, whispering with a wry smile on his face.
"Nice save."
His voice was laced with sarcasm, but you weren't going to tell him off for it.
"Ah, Director Clavell! I didn't notice you there!"
You really had to ask him how he got so fast. Nobody was around you a minute ago.
'Did he train with Zeraora?' You think to yourself, an amused smile on your face before he continues.
"Yes, I can tell. But that is besides the point. If you have the time, may I have a word with you? It's very important."
Your heart sunk.
Would he ban you from the school? You tried to remember the exact sequence of events so you could defend yourself, but in order to seem chill, you respond immediately.
"Yes, of course. I'm free right now."
Certainly more formal than you intended. Your face looked very serious, but more like a 'the principle came into the room while I'm teaching and I just got done reprimanding someone way-too harshly, I need to seem calm' sorta schooled expression. But that really wasn't the situation at all. You were worried regardless, however, even if he didn't seem to imply it was urgent, just important.
Either way, you followed the man up the stairs and into the academy.
-O-O-
"So, I heard from the other children that you had to find Geráneo after he took off on his Skiddo, correct?"
You nod, body tense, one leg over the other. He had pulled another chair out for you in his office. Hands in your lap and back straight as a board as you contained your fear, he replies.
"Ah, thank you for the confirmation."
You hesitantly nod.
"Well, I'd say you did a fantastic job of taking control of the situation."
You...
...what?
"Huh?" You say, genuinely confused (but relieved).
"Yes, you were caught off guard, yet you took off and saved the day regardless. That instinct to protect the children, coupled with the know-how to deescalate things so efficiently is an amazing trait to have."
You took his words in, but each individual word seemed to whizz by too fast to process correctly, especially as a whole. He continued, not noticing your befuddlement.
"Not to mention, Master Geráneo and his relationship with Skiddo seemed to exit the situation in a far better state than when he entered it. That ability to change the lives of those around you in such a profound way warms my heart."
He smiles, eyes full of admiration.
You look at him, taking in the situation with a gulp.
He had no reason to blame you, sure, but a part of you was afraid he'd let you take the fall in the parent's eyes, even if it made no sense both with context and in knowing him somewhat personally by now.
"Oh, s-so... we good?"
He blinked, sitting up straight.
"Ah, yes, we are certainly good. Better than ever, even. That leads me to a question I have, actually."
You sat, wondering what it'd be.
"Would you like to start a program here at the academy? One where you're here to spend personal time with our students and visitors specifically? Not quite a counselor, but someone who does fun stuff for them to look forward to whenever they need to unwind. It could be a group, perhaps? Maybe you can even act as an event planner, too?"
He waited for your response. This is exactly what you wanted, your mind already swimming with ideas on how you'd decorate your room, the types of activities you'd have for them whenever your club's held, the school tours hyping the academy up, the ability to talk to them personally or even let them vent in case they needed a listening ear--
"I am IN!"
That came out far more enthusiastic than you intended.
"Fantastic! Hopefully we can talk more later."
He gets up, face now serious in a somewhat disappointed fashion. He shakes his head.
"For now though, I must ask Geráneo's parents just what they were thinking, leaving him so excited with his Skiddo when no responsible party was around or made aware of the situation."
He walked around his desk, but not before stopping and putting a hand on your shoulder.
"Oh, and uh... I do hope you don't mind, but I would very much like it if we could chat... outside of preparations for your new position sometime."
Your stomach did a flip. His eyes looked fearful, a clear departure from his usual confidence, at least around you. You heard stories of his usual sweet yet dorky nature. Heck, you even saw it yourself before you got to know each other better.
"Anyway, I shall take my leave. Goodbye."
And with that, he took off.
Strange... he usually addresses you when leaving.
"That coffee thing makes so much sense now." You say to yourself, realizing he put a bit more thought into your impromptu chat than you thought he did.
-O-O-
A/N
This one was hard to write! I sometimes use Bulbapedia quotes to see what they talk like (such as the way they address people or to remind myself of their quirks while speaking), but THIS MAN HAS NONE??? I remember he was sort of formal, but also very kind and always meant well even if he seemed sorta suspicious in the trailers. Not to mention, he's a MASSIVE DORK??? I also like the idea of him being a bit awkward in general, but sorta flirty/teasing with people he fancies when first getting to know them, so yeah! He'll be his usually goofy self later when he gets to know this expy more. Call this Headcanon Clav if you like!
This accidentally came out SUPER open-ended, BUT, the focus was on how good you are with these kids, plus Clavell was sporadically busy anyway so yeah, worked out. Consider this the start of something more. Also the references (including the plant/plant-inspired names I gave all the named kids) were absolutely intentional
Accidentally grew fond of these goobers HELP, might draw them and Geráneo with his Skiddo someday
Purposefully didn't mention Hassel or Miriam in the little lantern scene so it'd be natural to leave if Raifort's still here or not vague cause 🤨
Expy needs to watch their profanity frfr, lmao
#director clavell#gender neutral reader#pokemon scarlet and violet#clavell x reader#spoilers#open ended (romantic)#open ended (platonic)
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Sorry to bother you. I saw that you'd gone through 4.5 and couldn't help but try to make a plea to convince you to join in the boycott of the game going forward.
Project Moon hasn't made a single announcement since the Korean-only notice of the story illustrator's absurd(and certainly illegal) layoff. I'm thankful a lot of tumblr's been made aware, but. They're clearly hoping the situation will blow over with 4.5's release, possibly with many international fans never even hearing of this... this absolute idiocy they've commited. They won't post English or Japanese explanations, they didn't even include the Korean one in the in-game announcement. They know they're in the wrong. It's cowardly and their horrible treatment of their employees and contractors need to face justice. We have to make clear we don't approve of these practices, because if we let them get away with this, in the present, they'll be doing it forever. Their actions have shown all they care for is the capital they get from active users, directly and indirectly.
I realize it might be hard to let go of the characters and the unique world of project moon that you've become fond of. Isn't it the same for us all? But I implore you to consider refraining from logging in, at least for a little while. The investments they get, that keep the company going smoothly, are tied closely to the number of active daily and monthly users, especially after a big update like now. If the international fandom could join in the boycott(not logging in, deleting the game or requesting refunds through the app store and steam if they've spent money on it), projmoon will eventually have to address the situation if they want to continue servicing limbus. I mean, there are other factors such as pressure from news media and the possiblity of a lawsuit from the illustrator, but this is the most definite way.
Projmoon's broken our faith in the worst way possible. They'd rather indulge the outrageous demands of a hate group that antagonised their employee over evidence of nothing and tanked their game's reviews for fun than show an ounce of sense, and personally? Those very employees and contractors seem to have been the heart and soul of the stories I fell in love with, and with kjh refusing to even pretend to understand the very themes his games have been built on, I can no longer take any of it seriously either.
Uh, well. The ask's become a bit of a slog to get through. If you have anything you want a clearer explanation on I'd gladly answer, and if you want to keep on playing I can't stop you. And I suppose it might not feel fair that you were the one I addressed, out of the many, many who are doing the same.
But thanks for reading anyway, because I loved their games, loved anticipating the future stories they'd tell, and kjh turned out to be the kind of asshole who fires a longtime employee over the phone at 11 pm over baseless claims with not a shred of regard for labor laws, and I am at a loss at the absurdity of this entire... thing. I had to say something. Hell world.
To my fault, I didn't think about boyscot as act of protest by myself, and saw people suggesting it on Twitter only when finished 4.5. It made me feel really stupid, especially when I saw graph showing how many people visited game. But now I'm not going to return to the game, at least until PMoon makes an announcement. I also feel horrible and confused, especially with the amount of false information around, which makes it extremely difficult to trust anyone right now. But I'm trying to stay optimistic.
Also hope that at least my mistake, will help people, satisfying their curiosity without need to read by themselves.
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Okay but hear me, i've always think of this scenario :
So after Jake shot Arthur, he didn't die but Ammit did. She basically disappeared and gone while her avatar surived. HOWEVER, since she was actually a creature that was created rather than born, there's a way to ressurect her 👀. So this is what happen; let's just say you were once an avatar of a god that either has been ushabtied or no longer need your help anymore. One day, Maat heard the news of Ammit's death and pitied her (Ammit was Maat's servant and both are very close to each other.) So she gave you a quest to ressurect her, in reward of life you always dream of. Creating Ammit needed 4 ingredients, acacia petals, nile water, black sand, and the heat of desert. Long short story you've gathered all the ingredients, mixing it in a heat of the desert. You read the coptic chant, succesfully ressurecting her. Of course her first choice of Avatar was you, no doubt. Maat hid her from the enneads, but didn't hide her from humanity. It shouldn't be a problem since enneads can make themself invisible but this Harrow guy, who could sense a presence of a god and an avatar, definitely knew it. You didn't know who he is, but he has gathered bunch of information including the fact who are you and what goddess have you been resurected. Now it's up to you whether you keep hiding your goddess from her previous avatar preventing him judging the world or threw all away your brain cells for a hot white man with soul-piercing blue eyes and soothing sexy voice AVSHAHKSJSJ (this is a scenario i'd like to turn into chaptered fic but i wanna see how you make it your own version 😳💖💖)
I mean YESSSSHHH. (And do it. Write that multichapter fic). Gosh, I am perhaps a bit too tired right now, but I just wanted to reply to this because absolutely.
~ + ~
“Arthur,” your voice cracked, throat drier than it used to be. Like ancient parchment – like if you were a mummy yourself. “Arthur Harrow.”
The man you addressed raised a brow, clearly surprised that you knew him by name. “So you do know who I am?” he said, voice low and like silk.
You pressed your lips into a thin line. Of course you knew who he was. This man who had sought you out at your work place. This man who kept prodding and poking, desperately fishing for information that would betray who you were and what you had done.
Ammit. When you closed your eyes you could still feel her deep within you. Her crocodile tail swarmed through your chest. A low rumble threatened to erupt from the depths of your soul, a sound that should only be heard coming from the waters of the Nile.
He had known so much about you – more specifically about the goddess you had revived. So much, that you’d sought out his identity all on your own. The way he kept returning to you, like you were magnets that could not be apart for long. And you’d felt charmed by that. Because this was Arthur, a man whose looks made your cheeks flush warm and whose voice made your heart beat faster. His knowledge made you thirst for him, his careful walk made your knees turn to jelly.
It had been unfair then, to find out that he had been Ammit’s former avatar. The man who had been killed. Nearly. And who, like the goddess herself, had been brought back to life for there were people who could not live without him still. Mister Harrow had purpose – even if he seemed to have lost it himself. But the gods knew. It was why he had been Konshu’s avatar before being Ammit’s.
A man who had stood on his own against the gods. So powerful, so strong, so obedient and loyal.
His death had been unjust.
You bit your lip and glanced away. The heat had crept up higher, all the way from your toes to the top of your head. Your whole body was alit with desire – the kind you had to ignore.
He wasn’t for you. He was the god’s plaything.
He belonged to Ammit.
“You keep returning,” you started, eyes still averted so you would not have to look at his face. You knew the expression you would see there; sweet-eyed, puppy-eyed. Hopeful. “And you always ask me the same questions.”
He was short to answer, stepping closer to you with a careful tread. Though there was no more glass in his shoes, he had to be careful with how he walked. Somehow the revival had transported the damage to his chest to his feet; a permanent reminder of the suffering he had sustained on a daily basis for his goddess. “And you just need to answer them,” he said, voice like silk. Like he wasn’t the smooth manipulator that history had proved him to be.
Oh, how you longed for his strong hands – that reached out for you – to hold you in an embrace. You had made the error of looking up as he spoke, and now were watching him as he approached. His attire was casual. A cream-colored jacket over a wine-red blouse. Red pants. Brown shoes. Pepper-and-salt grey hair curling at the height of his shoulders. Concern was edged deep on his face, his forehead adorned in wrinkles. His blue eyes were upon, translucid and full of sadness and longing.
You knew why. It was why you had wanted to avoid seeing the look that lay within them.
He loved her. He missed her. And he saw her in you.
Ammit.
Again. That bitch.
“And I told you before, Mister Harrow. I have nothing of what you want. Not on me,” and not in me, you wanted to say. But you bit back the words, forcing yourself to calm your breathing. “That’s why I need to know,” you turned to face him. “Why can’t you let go?”
The man’s lips parted, his tongue peeking out between white rows of teeth. No wonder she had chosen him, you thought. No wonder, with all the beauty and sharpness and edges he had to him. A deity in the human flesh.
He did not need a moment to think about his answer, stepping up close, towering over your smaller frame. His blue eyes boring down into yours while they swirled with emotions. Passion.
“Because I worship her.”
Okay, so a few things for this:
Yeah, you’re definitely skilled at bringing ancient deities back.
When Maat asks this of you, you don’t even hesitate. You’re straight on it.
Ammit makes you her avatar, but it’s only for the short ride. You want to head home and you have better things to do. She knows this. So you make a pact, and you will help her find someone better.
Once you’re home, you start your search.
When Arthur shows up, he instantly captures your heart. But hey! What started as a seemingly impossible crush feels even more impossible once you find out that he was Ammit’s last avatar.
You discover that he did not quite survive. The ancient gods brought him back in a way.
The more you read and hear about him, the more you’re in awe. This man singlehandedly fought avatars, fought gods. He had so many skills. No wonder that he was chosen not once, but twice! And he is loyal. Darn he is.
You slowly grow angry at Ammit for being revered by this handsome man. It somehow feels like she’s standing in your way.
Now that you’re convinced Arthur can feel Ammit’s presence upon you, you try and avoid him. But darn, he keeps popping up.
Luckily you and Ammit find a new avatar. Someone stronger and more suitable than you – which.. you know, is a bit offensive actually to hear. But you get it. It was your wish.
Then you have the realization that Arthur Harrow probably would want to sleep with you if you were Ammit’s avatar. You have the fleeting fancy to somehow take that new possible avatar out of the equation and keep Ammit’s powers to yourself. You know Harrow would want you if you embodied the goddess one way or another.
But you let it go. You’re not a killer. It is why you don’t want to remain Ammit’s avatar. It’s why you didn’t remain the avatar of the god before that. And so Ammit leaves you.
You’re normal again.
When Harrow visits you, you know he has noticed. Yet, he still steps closer to you.
You’re afraid he will be angry that she is gone. But he only appears to be sad that the goddess is no longer using you, and hasn’t left you for him.
He still embraces you.
He still murmurs sweet nothings in your ear.
He still worships you.
And he still sleeps with you.
Bonus:
When the deity you’d been an avatar seems to have left you special powers. You just don’t tell other people that. But Harrow finds out – either by accident during some domestic task or during you know – the rumpy pumpy. 👀
Arthur is a little lost without his powers. You feel really proud when one day to another, he suddenly is confident again.
Then you find out Ammit has gifted him with powers. Despite not being her avatar, he has been reinstated as some kind of leading figure for her worshippers. The man who conquered death.
You’re angry because; damn that bitch. Now he’s all back into the religion again and that means his life is in danger once more!
He doesn’t stop worshipping you though, making sure that every opportunity he has, he reminds you of this.
And his powers make for an interesting bed fellow as well *nudge nudge wink wink*
Despite the – jealousy * cough* - dislike you hold for Ammit at the start of things, you do have a thing for crocodiles. If you could, you’d have one as a pet. One of those smaller ones from the Nile. And these crocs would be very loyal to you, behave more like dogs than crocs. You’d be some kind of croc god (not like Ammit though, but imagine how you could tease her with it “Your little cousin says hi Ammit!” *holds up a tiny crocodile who guffaws croc way * .
Same with cats.
#I have a favorite Egyptian Goddess but what is yours?#You tell me yours#I tell you mine#arthur harrow#imagine#moon knight fandom#be a goddess#reader imagine#reader insert#accepting prompts#I love you for sharing this#Please poke me with more thoughts#Arthur harrow x reader#ammit moon knight
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Betts, I’m having a really hard time writing my fic. It’s incredibly long which doesn’t help but even updating the next chapter feels impossible. I’m so amazed—not only by how often you’re able to update, but by the sheer quality of your writing. I have a tendency to get too flowery and incoherent, so I’m scared to rush. But this unfortunately means I update every few months. All of my readers have virtually abandoned my story and I can’t blame them. Can I get some advice on how you’ve built the skills needed to update fast with good writing? Any suggestions you might have?
i can't remember if i've talked about this yet, but i was on a med to help with my sensory issues and it really, really fucked with me. and even though i was like, twitching a lot and had restless legs and fatigue, i stayed on it because it was doing what it set out to do: light and sound didn't bother me at all (i didn't even need to put on headphones when the lawn was mowed), and i wasn't snappish and mean like i get sometimes when i'm not masking. i was able to do everything i needed to do in a day with ease, without even making a detailed to do list (a thing i've done nearly every day since i was 18). i could make difficult phone calls. i could change my routine at a moment's notice or go somewhere when i felt like it without having to gear up for it. in other words, it had taken away a lot of my autism symptoms. for six months it was like someone else was living in my body. someone it turns out i didn't like at all.
i wasn't writing. i couldn't write. normally my brain is so full of words, if i don't get them down it can sometimes become physically painful. i've suspected for a long time i have hypergraphia, because the words don't even have to be coherent, they just have to be out. before i started writing fiction, i wrote a lot of flat-out nonsense. when i was a teenager, i kept long-running notebooks with friends. i was on AIM all the time. i religiously journaled and kept a blog detailing my daily life. and then when texting became a thing, my life got immeasurably better. i have always, always preferred writing to speaking, and i feel like i can't actually know a person until i've read their writing. i remember when i first got an email address and my dad sent me an email, i was like, ah! i can finally see you! and you're way weirder than i thought!
anyway it took a long time but eventually i found fanfic and now everyone who's ever known me can breathe a lot easier since i'm no longer texting them a million times a day with totally banal thoughts.
which is all to say, when i was on that med, my brain was utterly silent. it was terrifying. it felt like i'd had a major piece of me cut off and there was a time i was honestly so scared i'd never write again, that whatever spark i had was gone. i was so bored i contemplated going out, like actually leaving my house, for fun, and i was like, oh so this is why people do things.
because there were no words happening, when i did sit down to write (which was the one thing i still had to schedule, the opposite of how it usually is, and by that i mean i'm writing all the time by default and have to schedule everything else like eating and running errands), it was tedious, because i had to make them up on the spot instead of them just being there. it's the difference between buying apples and picking them yourself. when you buy them, there's a whole little mountain to choose from. you don't have to take a single step. but picking them yourself, you've gotta go out and find them, and it takes a lot longer.
there were other things i couldn't do either, like conflict and scene crafting. i couldn't really see the future of a given story, whereas before, i didn't even have to think about it. it was just all there waiting for me and all i had to do was put it on the page.
of course, there is a horrific downside to this, and that is that i'm virtually unfunctional in day to day life while i'm in the process of writing something. that's why i love residencies so much. they're made specifically for people with maladaptive behaviors like mine, like, here's a room, here's a desk, here's a hundred bucks for groceries, have at it.
i signed my apartment lease in april and i still haven't unpacked. some days i sit down at my desk at 10am and i blink and it's 2am and i don't know what happened, but i have 10k new words that i had absolutely no control over creating. thankfully i've developed good habits to make sure i get all the work done i have to get done, but it's always a struggle and honestly i can't see myself ever being able to work a full-time job again, unless i go back on that awful med.
the point is, for six months i wasn't writing, and because i wasn't writing i fell into a very deep depression. coupled with the fact nothing was in my brain, i wasn't talking much to anyone, wasn't engaging much online, wasn't reading, wasn't cooking, wasn't cleaning. all i could do was sleep and watch youtube videos. the highlight of my day was my coaching calls and the work i was doing for ofic, where i could feel a little like myself again.
as you can see from this very long post, i got taken off that med and put on a new one that's rendered me once more a ball of words and nothing else. my psychiatrist, bless her, didn't even question me when i said i preferred to be an obsessive maladaptive daydreamer who doesn't live in reality than...whatever i'd turned into. a task-doer i guess. i think what i'm going through now, the 200k in a few months thing, is all the build-up of being on that med.
anyway, everyone's brain is different and therefore their relationship and approach to writing is different. i think we have far less control over these things than we think. or at least i do. i certainly know some ass-in-chair 8am writers for whom writing is genuinely work like any other, and they have daily word goals and once they hit them they go outside and run a marathon or whatever.
other than those few people, i don't think any writer is happy with the pace at which they write. i would love to have the patience you do to get flowery with my writing, but my sentences have always been spare and simple. i've learned to make that work to my advantage i think, but it still remains: i am never going to be a writer of pretty things. and that made me sad for a long time, but it also makes me appreciate a beautiful, complex sentence so much more, because it's something i can't really do.
i don't think writing slow is a weakness and i don't think writing fast is a strength. our minds move at the pace they move and there's not much we can do about it. i think a lot about a girl i used to know in the MFA who wrote microfiction, and her daily word count goal was six. six words. i think about donna tartt, one of my favorite authors, and how she's published one book a decade, three books in a career. and i also think about those writers who churn out book after book after book and even if they're good quality, they're all kind of the same, and that's because writing speed is directly related to the speed at which you make decisions. if you're always falling back on the same story structures, sentence structures, scene pacing, and character archetypes, yeah, you can write pretty fast. writing, at its simplest, is deciding what word comes next, over and over and over again. and so i write fic fast because my writing style is just my inner monologue, the characters are already established, and in terms of plot all i really have to do is figure out the happily ever after.
but it also took me 3 years to write my short story collection. i have novels i've been working on for 5 or 6 years now. i have hundreds of thousands of words of prose in various WIPs that will have to be completely rewritten because of how sloppy they are and how they don't get the work done i want them to be doing. so i definitely understand what it is to write slow, and how frustrating it can be when you're just eager to be finished.
i'm sorry your readers have abandoned your story and i'm sorry i don't have more practical advice for you. my only real advice is to relish in the process and enjoy any minute you spend crafting a sentence you can be proud of.
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18, 23, 29 for the ask game!
18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?
nah. i'd love to, don't get me wrong! there are some beautiful worksheets out there and i like the idea of having all the information to hand for sure, but i just can't make myself do it. it's too homeworky. i can't even use scrivener's character templates, i put the name in and then everything is random dot points in no order. i use all my organisation at work, i don't have any left over for home 😂
i guess i do outline longer fics/original stories, but it's not with a guided tool, it's dot points all the way down. i often don't outline until i'm midway through writing the story too and "outline" can be pretty generous. this is from my "aaa priorities" document (which functions as my calendar and quick reference guide)
the fics are in order of what my priorities were last time i thought about it and i haven't updated the Prince of Grief one that i finished over the weekend, so you can see what i had there as my outline for the ending that's been sitting there for a casual 4 years. evanescent idolatry's outline goes on for pages and pages though. which is part of the reason i haven't written it--because i've already fucking written it 😂
23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?
the one that's on my mind rn is Prince of Grief because as i say i finished it over the weekend and i'm not gonna lie, rereading it was REALLY painful. i didn't let myself edit it because i wanted to FINISH it, but i did have to go in and correct john's quirk, which i'd used incorrectly. what, did 2018 laura not have the time to check the wiki? she didn't even think she needed to, hubristic bitch that she is! and oh my god, i overused CAPS LOCK. that's not even addressing the way i leaned heavily on dialogue because i hadn't learned how to balance it with prose yet, as well as like a million other things that hurt me as i was rereading.
apart from that, maybe Elevatorstuck! it's not a particularly long fic, but i was unspeakably proud of it when i wrote it and the concept remains solid. i like the timestamp format and there are times when the writing is pretty good too, but god. i didn't know how to write john back then. a couple of years ago i went through and got rid of like 80 million exclamation points and i think that improved it, but it'd be cool to do a rewrite with all my 2024 mad skillz.
29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?
to be honest, i think the "inspired by" function of ao3 is really underrated and there's nothing really holding me back from writing sequels/prequels of other people's fics. i mean, i'd ask as a courtesy, but i know if anyone wanted to write something based on my fics i'd just be super flattered and want to read it!
i suppose Social Norms aren't the only things that get in a way of a "could", so my answer is actually BONES OF BLACK MARROW by oxfordRoulette. it's hands down the coolest fic ever and i think about it constantly. the reason i can't do this is because the story is perfect in its shape and there isn't a need for a sequel, but also because the creativity and coding know-how required to do what they did with the formatting is simply beyond me. i have on multiple occasions shown people this fic as proof that fanfic is Real Art
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