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#so it's like a funny anachronism for me

stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 8 months

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SENDING MY FIRST ASK FROM THE NEW BLOG!!!! i feel like i am sending a letter from a new address... crazy. ANYWAY HOW R U TONIGHT!!!! i hope ur havin a good day!!!! kicking my feet like a teenager at a sleepover rn tell me abt ur day who r the blorbos in ur mind rn what kinda art r u workin on lately how's it going friend!!!

HIIIIIII HI HI . HELLO SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG- i mean catboy cellbit!!! . dude i am. dreading the coming week tbh but it is fine !! we will get thru it we will survive!!! i am so sleepytired but alas i also cannot sleep so i may just have another night of reading and music ahead of me . wah. i hope u are hsving a good night <3 IVE BEEN COMPLETELY ART NERFED TOO BTW. my laptop died on me a couple days ago and while i was able to find a new one affordably it will not be here until the 13th 😔 so no digital art from me for a while. sigh. i DID just decorate my new sketchbook with stickers tho so im hoping that will get my brain in gear for traditional art again. AS FOR BLORBOS. oh . u know. the usuals. vash the stampede. zacharie from off . masky marblehornets (also tim marblehornets) . to name three of them.

#who are ur blorbos rn. i dont watch qsmp i think sering ur posts abt it are really funny bc im like. guy walks into the room on fire gif.#i have no idea whats going on in here congratulations and/or my condolences <3 #thank u thank u i love the sleepover vibes. literally had gossip talk w one of my other friends earlier #(name withheld for reasons but if u see this u know who u are and i love u )#so the vibes are so correct #i have 2 work tomorrow :( not looking forward 2 that.#however it IS my last day of my long term overnight job which means i will be able to sleep in my own bed tomoerow night.#this is something i have not done for like. close to a month now. whcih is why ive been sleeping so awfully! so hopefully that fixes me #also have. job interview on wednesday for another aquarium place..#fingers crossed this goes better than my last one but also part of me is kind of hoping it doesnt go well #bc i hate transitional periods and i dont want 2 go thru the moving process again #and i dont want 2 meet a bunch of new ppl all at once again. and do the while job training thing.#alas that is the anxiety talkimg and i do actually want the job bc it would be good for me <3 #sorry it is late and im soooo fucking sleepy so im rambling !!!! do not feel like u have to respond to . gestures vaguely at all that #its blorbo talk time. i desperately want 2 warch more mh right now #however the house im.staying in IS in the middle of the woods and very isolated and i have been so scared and paranoid #so i am OUTTA LUCK sigh. i will simply watch smth silly instead like gg tmph or david attenborough or perhaps spongebob will b on the tv.#asks #friends!!!#false-anachronism #<< oh fuck new url!!! i got like halfway thru typing ur old one before i was like WAIT SHIT.

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kirayaykimura · 1 year

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6, 14, 29?

6. Favorite title you used?

I think Wrong (Apartment) Number is the only title I didn't steal from a Taylor Swift song this year so let's go with that.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

Hmm. Probably the obiyuki con artist au? It was only 534 words.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I'm quite partial to, "Obi barely knew what Obi was planning," from the fake relationship au. That's how I like to write him: quick-witted and reckless.

Also, "It was raining outside; maybe she’d just lay on the grass and take her fate like a turkey looking up," from this Yona fic purely because I heard the myth that turkeys will drown if they look up in rain when I was like seven years old and it stuck with me for whatever reason, so this bonkers line was a joke from me to me.

#ccprovolomies #thank you!#i figured at least one person would be like 'what's up with the weird turkey line?' but no one ever did #so maybe the myth is more well known than i thought #or no one else finds it funny which is also fine lol #pardon any anachronisms in my fics #i've been writing for fantasy stories lately and you can't prove to me that fantasy korea wouldn't have turkeys #personal

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bread-tab · 9 months

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okay random 4am rant time, don't take it too seriously, but: people need to recognize there's a difference between "bad worldbuilding" and "worldbuilding styles you personally don't like."

bad worldbuilding is, for example: internally inconsistent, bigoted, or something else that messes up the plot or characterization of the story itself. sloppy. careless.

things that are *not* bad worldbuilding:

minimalism.

i've been thinking about this in the first place because i saw a post about the Murderbot Diaries a while back (don't know who made it, don't care; this ain't personal) saying the worldbuilding in those books is bad and lazy. to me, as an avid sci-fi reader and writer, that is clearly not true. but i understood why they thought this. the series uses extremely minimalist worldbuilding which intentionally withholds a lot of detail, in a way that is consistent with the (nonhuman, robot, depressed robot) first-person POV. this could also be a feature of the author's writing style in general—i haven't read her other works—but i wouldn't bet too much on it.

the signature of intentional minimalism is that there *are* details about the speculative setting—they're just doled out very thoughtfully and sparingly. the intent is to leave you a little hungry for more. it's to make you think very carefully about the details you do have. this is best suited to stories that already have elements of psychological and/or mystery plot types. the worldbuilding you do see should still be believable, internally consistent, and have interesting implications if you think about it a bit. but you are for sure going to have to think harder to get it.

if you're not in the mood, i will concede, a minimalist style definitely comes off as a bit dry. if you are in the mood, it's relaxing.

whimsy.

this is a big one for sci-fi fans in particular. see: the constant debate about whether any particular story is "hard" or "soft" sci-fi, and whether soft sci-fi is bad, etc etc. but worldbuilding doesn't have to be realistic to be good. you're allowed to have Jedi and humanoid aliens and time travel in your sci-fi. you're allowed to have historical anachronisms and astrology and po-ta-toes in your fantasy. whether or not they're silly isn't the deciding factor on how "good" these worldbuilding elements really are.

the key thing is tonal consistency. you've got a serious high-fantasy setting with its own strict, un-Earth-like theology and magic system, and you throw Santa Claus in there? yeah, that's not gonna land well. but C.S. Lewis can get away with that in Narnia just fine. why? because the Chronicles of Narnia are whimsical children's stories with a strong Christian/Western mythological influence already, and their central conceit is a crossover between the mundane world and the magical world. of course Santa can cross over too. it's whimsical, but it's not actually random. (and if you ventured into straight-up comedy, you could get away with random too. as long as it's funny.)

the unreliable narrator.

i don't have a good example for this off the top of my head (maybe Murderbot again? idk, i'm sleepy, fill in your own) but i'll tell you how to recognize when this is done well.

by definition, an unreliable narrator has some key misconceptions about their own world. so how do you tell what's going on as a reader? how do you know the writer isn't equally confused?

you connect the dots. solve the puzzle. in practice this is similar to reading a minimalist setting—but instead of just sparse clues, you also have a boatload of red herrings. you can catch some of these misleading details by comparing them to your real-world knowledge and saying "wait, this doesn't add up." other times, the false clues intentionally trick you by subverting those real world expectations.

the trick is in the consequences. regardless of what the narrator says, their actions should still have logical consequences. there should be things going on that the POV character doesn't know about. the character will be forced to learn and adapt their narrative because of these shifting circumstances. you can catch them in a lie. the inconsistencies themselves tell a story.

...

i'm gonna stop myself there because this post is long and i oughtta be sleeping. just. this is a distinction worth making. is it really bad worldbuilding, or is it simply not the genre you're craving today? learn the difference for your own sake. you'll have an easier time realizing if a story is something you'll find enjoyable to read, regardless of its actual quality.

#long post #writing #worldbuilding #media literacy #media analysis #the murderbot diaries #the chronicles of narnia #Christianity mention #rant #sleep deprived

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eerna · 9 months

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so how's fourth wing so far :]

CHECK IN TIME! OK so I am on chapter 22, which is the 51% mark of the book. I continue to be disappointed, but now I have read enough of the book to know I'm not overreacting or judging too early.

Anachronisms continue to run rampant. At one point the MC uses the expression "Are our wires crossed?", which is an explicit reference to telephones, meaning this world has telephones but not pens. This could have easily been a modern fantasy and better for it, there is 0 reason for keeping it a historical setting.

I am on chapter 22 approximately because I actually accidentally fell asleep during Amber's trial and it was so insanely ridiculous I just signed off, and then rewinded to the beginning of the chapter when I woke up. Dain not believing his best freind in the entire world and a bunch of other people because "AMBER LOVES RULES TOO MUCH TO BREAK THEM!!" is one of the funniest scenes I've ever seen.

The characters.... Good lord literally everyone is just an empty shell of a person, someone who serves a certain role in the story and nothing else. It's been a while since I read a book where not a single character gave me anything to work with. That includes bad things I could complain about, or flaws. No one dares step a toe outside the stereotypical roles - wow, here's the Petite Delicate MC With Hidden Power, her Overprotective Childhood Best Friend (well ok he is depicted as bad in this one but more on that later), her Fun Extroverted New Best Friend, the Mysterious Brooding Dark Haired Bad Boy, the Evil Bitch, the Craaaaazy Murderous Competitor....... Like damn give me SOMETHING.

The deaths that people say raise the stakes and feel brutal and realistic are really funny to me because it is Super Obvious who is gonna be next to die. Why are we suddenly focusing on this random background character? Because they are gonna perish next page. Please pretend to be shocked when it happens. Rinse and repeat.

Ngl the "our dragons are mates and that means we are gonna be serving the army together for the rest of their lives also gotta learn how to work together" as a forced proximity method is an absolutely amazing idea. Too bad I feel nothing for this specific combination of characters.

The romance is so immature. It's not even SJM level relationship development. So Violet is in love with her childhood best friend, but then decides she doesn't want to be with him because there is no "spark" when they kiss. Not because he is controlling and belittles her and has no faith in her. Oh no. It's about how she can't even look at Xaden without getting horny!!!! It's about how she hates him as a person but his BODYYY WOWWWW YUMMMMM!!!! PLENTY of sparks!! At one point she describes his cousin and feels the need to specify the two look similar, but she is NOT physically attracted to him, which is just so funny. The book is still painfully straight and treats me to the "Big Burly Muscular Man and his Tiny Dainty Little Woman" shtick.

It's the EPITOME of those "imagine a book where..." tiktoks. Ohhhh the villain is KILLIN PEOPLE to SAVE THE MC even though she thought HE HATED HER..... Oooohhh he has DARK HAIR and ENCOURAGES HER TO BE STRONG....... Ooooooh the MC has bnded to THE STRONGEST DRAGON EVER and also HAS TWO BONDED DRAGONS which has NEVERRR HAPPENED BEFORE...... It feels like a collection of out-of-context quotes meant to be shown as a greenscreen backdrop while the reader pretends to be screaming into their hand in the foreground.

All in all. I am still not enraged angry the way some other books from the book club have made me, but we still haven't reached the smut so there's plenty of time for the nosedive. I'm just reading this and wondering why this specifically was chosen as the next Big Thing. What makes it special??? I see Nothing. Maybe I will find out if I keep going - I don't personally have to like it, but I'd like to figure out why so many other people do.

#eernask #eernanon

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mewkwota · 8 months

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A Lunch Break in the Space Time Continuum

Castlevania has so many little instances of anachronism, but I can't help but enjoy them because it'll give me funny thoughts like these.

This isn't even a big one, I just like the topic of food. O'course. I told you I want my video game vampire hunters to be well-fed.

#anywho here's a funny with leon for once #you'll never get a lot of these but I thought I'd let it pass #I want him to eat well too (he's still a belmont-- heck he's The Belmont-- after all)#doodle-daas #comics #castlevania #leon belmont #rinaldo gandolfi #did you know? I also like video game foods in general.#just look at them. it's A Food in the game. :D

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tavina-writes · 5 months

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i find it extremely funny that we (mxtx fandoms in general but mdzs especially) will get into huge shouting matches about timelines and research and accuracy and meanwhile she was like "the death of the nie bros' dad, an event extremely important to explaining the buildup to the war that affected literally every single member of the cast, could have happened anywhere in these five whole-ass years" and "yeah they totally had potatoes don't worry about it lol". truly airplane was an autobiographical character.

You know nonny, I DO find this intensely funny at times. My uh, main source of "shaking my head at this" happens when inevitably, meta goes around and we rush back and forth going "X WAS A GOOD PERSON" and "X WAS EVIL! EVIL!" etc, which happens every now and again and always makes me a bit like "ah, yes, it's difficult to convey nuance and also differing points of view that may in whole or in part also be legitimate and valuable to discuss on a place like tumblr/the internet in general because it is difficult to grapple with uncertainties and we often want to nail things down one way or another so we can figure out if we're right or not" <- but this often comes out as me writing a joke post. Or a saltier post than I intended. Sometimes because I'm tired and sometimes because I just happen to be a salty individual on main.

And I do think fandom is a place where like, multiple interpretations of an event or a statement or a character's "morality" and themes and choices are often equally valid. And fandom should be a place for that, that's what makes fandom fun. If there was a One True Interpretation of the text there'd be no need for interpreting text at all, and that's distinctly sad for me. That's no fun. Anyone who tries to use their knowledge to cudgel people into the One True Interpretation is wrong, btw.

Though I think, and here's where I feel that research and accuracy is a nuanced thing and should actually be of consideration for meta/fic/engaging with fandom in general, and why perhaps people strive for it -- the "lol, potatoes" and "poetry from whatever era I want" is fun! MXTX, however, is still writing about a fantasy version of her own culture, which offers along with it a foundational basis of knowledge that makes this...easier? And again, here's where the part of me that does enjoy these anachronisms and inaccuracies (because they're fun and since we have flying swords why not potatoes) wars with the part of me that's also like, "okay but there is a difference between 'not knowing enough to be respectful of the background surrounding the characters and why that might inform their actions' and 'I've decided that peppers, which did not exist in Eurasia prior to the Columbian Exchange are a big thing here now.'" The difference is respect. Different members of fandom will draw this line in different places and it hits different on different days.

And this is one of the struggles of engaging with foreign language media a lot of the time - we try to strike a balance between engaging with it based on our own experiences and backgrounds and not accidentally saying anything offensive or strange or 'that would totally never happen' or 'he would not fucking talk like that' and I've found, with my time in this fandom, most people who are concerned with accuracy and research are largely trying to be respectful and avoid such gaffes.

Over the two or so years I've been here, I've also reacted to people who've insisted their interpretation is the correct one when it was definitely a case of 'the version Chinese culture that I'm familiar with 200% does not work like that', and saltily wandered off to vent about how 'this is inaccurate and also rude' or try to explain why it wouldn't happen like that. Maybe this comes off as preachy at times, or overly concerned with "accuracy," but that is typically where that sort of reaction comes from for me. I expect this is probably true for other people as well!

And by no means like, do we only engage in fandom because we want to be educated or educate others, and by no means is that an obligation of any fic writer or meta writer or casual fandom goer. We engage with media because it engages us, and we engage with fandom because we love community, and sometimes its no more complex than that.

I enjoy research and art history so that's typically why this appears in my fic, and I started out on doing it to better connect with my own heritage, which I've found more important to me as I've gotten older, so that's where it comes from for me.

Apologies nonny, this was probably not the answer you were looking for and I do commiserate, I'm just chronically unable to be funny on main. 😔

TLDR: there's always nuance in everything unfortunately. Even if this is the no nuance webbed site.

#asks and answers #I have plenty of musings about research and accuracy #I do it because it's fun for me but by no means is it an OBLIGATION to find out like #'what was the common wallet shape in the late southern song dynasty'#or 'common painting subjects for Han Chinese literati in the Yuan dynasty'#or 'roofing materials in suzhou circa 13th century'#but I did also have a visceral out of body experience with the funerary poetry at mid autumn scene in a fic I read once #just ?????? 'at THANKSGIVING?'#so I am not a great person to ask about this #local cactus is terminally unable to stop being a killjoy at jokes #<- is how I feel about this response :(

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my-favourite-zhent · 8 days

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THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS

Tagged by @commander-krios and @tellmeallaboutit ❤️❤️❤️ Tagging: @fistfuloftarenths @dustdeepsea @thisaccountisagainstmywill

Last book I read: Hmm this is tough as I mostly just listen to podcasts nowadays. It might have been:

Lovecraft's Monsters which is an anthology of what is essentially Lovecraft Fanfiction by famous authors such as Gaiman and King.

Either that or getting like part of the way into the start of The Lies of Locke Lamora and not really vibing with it.

Greatest Literary Inspiration:

Hmmm, maybe Salvatore and Sapowski in terms of world building and action? Possibly Stephen King in terms of characterization. I'm not really good at analyzing my own writing.

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write: I really enjoy reading Zevlor fics but I don't ever see myself being in the head space to write one.

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me:

To be honest I thought Rugan and the Gates Crew Zhentarim were gonna be this but we've got a group of something like 10-12 fanatics now so I guess that wasn't the case! (Also we keep tricking each other into new microblorbos, looking at you @captainsigge with Edvige!)

You can recognise my writing by:

Oh no I just said I'm bad at this part. Ah I guess heavy lore research? Funny (I hope) dialogue? Complete inability to write drama and inclusion of a lot of smut.

My most controversial take (current fandom): I don't like narratives in 2nd person generally. Maybe I'm just old but I tend to associate them with the choose your own adventure books of my youth (RL Stine and that one space vampire book).

Yeah that's the one. To me 1st person and 3rd person feel more like proper literature, but I hear 1st person is out of vogue with the youths (I'm old okay).

Current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut):

Maybe a 3-4? I've got a few ideas brewing but I'm not in the manic phrase like at the start of New Tricks. I need to let things simmer a little bit first.

Top three favourite tropes:

You know I used to be a TV Tropes addict and I cannot for the life of me remember a single one now. I do love Trope subversion in general a la Community or Rick and Morty. Setting up peoples expectations for one thing and then bam gotcha! However it can't just be random, there needs to be proper foreshadowing.

Maybe deadpan snarker, silk hiding steel and enemies to lovers?

Share a random frustration:

Ehhhhhhhhhh, is this fanfiction specific? I guess egregious anachronisms is my biggest pet peeve.

#tag game #bg3 fanfiction #forgotten realms fanfiction #writing

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waywardrose · 5 months

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 24

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.6k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Idk if the Cali group arrives in Hawkins on Saturday or Sunday. I'm going with Saturday. If that's wrong, well, this fic isn't canon compliant anyway. Also, Unnamed Freak (aka Dave) has a canon name now with Flight of Icarus: Dougie. I've corrected this entire fic on all platforms. If I've missed a "Dave" somewhere, please tell me. 🖤

The phone rang, jolting you from your research. On reflex, you stretched across the spread of opened spell books for the phone on the nightstand. Then you remembered you weren’t at home. You sat on the bed in one of Steve’s guestrooms.

When he didn’t ask you to answer the phone, you straightened and found where you’d left off. The ringing ceased, then Steve’s voice drifted through the open door. At one time, it would’ve been an annoyance. Now, it reminded you that you weren’t alone. You had people who knew you for who you were and weren’t wary of your abilities.

Last night, Robin had stayed through dinner and Back to the Future. Working at Family Video had its perks, because there was a waitlist to rent it. Robin and Steve had talked through the entire movie, asking about you and sharing about themselves, but you hadn’t minded. You learned that ‘Scoops’ was Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream parlor. It must be a Midwestern chain, because you’d never heard of it.

Robin bragged Steve had slung so much ice cream, they had to put in special orders. Steve shrugged, all bravado, yet his flushed cheeks belied his cool demeanor.

“You should’ve seen some of the girls who came in,” Robin had said, face reverent. “They must’ve come from Fort Wayne or Indy—”

Eyes wide, Steve had interrupted. “Yeah, they weren’t local, that’s for sure.”

You’d glanced at him, then at Robin. He’d tried to divert the conversation. Maybe to protect her? That had made no sense until you remembered you were in the Midwest, where homosexuality — or even bisexual tendencies — was anathema.

To Robin, you asked with a sly look: “That hot, huh?”

“God, I could barely keep eye con—” She curled her lips between her teeth, but rallied. “I mean, they were, like, super intimidating.”

You grinned with a minute shake of your head.

“No, I get it. Girls are hot.”

“Yeah…” she breathed, eyes going glassy. “Girls are hot.”

The conversation had paused as George confronted Biff on screen. When George and Lorraine walked away together, you’d reached for your drink and glimpsed Steve holding Robin’s hand. He noticed you noticing and opened his mouth to speak. You stopped him with an understanding look.

“So, is there a girl at school you like?” you’d asked before taking a sip.

Robin glanced at Steve, who’d offered an encouraging shrug. She’d smiled, giddy and love-struck, and gushed about Vickie. According to Robin, she looked like Molly Ringwald, but even cuter. Vickie was talented and funny and smart. Steve insisted Vickie was into her despite what they’d seen at The War Zone. Robin waved it away, saying Vickie had a boyfriend. It was a lost cause. She’d pine from afar.

You’d said, “Well, not necessarily. She could be bi.”

“I don’t know? It doesn’t seem likely.” She’d gnawed on her bottom lip. “I would normally say that’s ridiculous, because this is Hawkins, but—” She gestured at herself.

You’d narrowed your eyes playfully.

“You could still win fair maiden’s heart.”

Steve laughed. “You sound like Munson.”

“What can I say? He’s rubbed off on me.”

Robin had snorted. “Yeah, I bet that’s not the only thing he’s done.” You’d giggled even as your face heated. You grinned now thinking about it.

Knuckles rapped on the doorjamb. Steve stood in the doorway, the sleeves of his teal henley pushed up his forearms. His perfectly tousled hair framed his face, his jeans showed off the goods, and his Nikes were clean.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, lookin’ good.”

He put a hand on the back of his head and looked down as if bashful. Like he didn’t know how handsome he was.

You asked, “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, that was Nance on the phone. She wants to donate some stuff at the school, and I offered her a lift. I think I’m going to volunteer while I’m there, too. You know, whatever they need.”

“That’s…” You first thought ‘surprising,’ but that was insulting. “That’s really generous of you.” You glanced at your suitcase overflowing with clean laundry. “Actually, I bet I have a few things someone else could use.”

“Oh, wow, sure.” He nodded. “You wanna come with?” He waggled a hand. “I mean, I know you’re not ready, but I was going to call Robin and Dustin. See if they wanna join.”

“I want to, but I can’t. I need to heal Lucas and Max.” You gestured to all the opened books. “That’s what I’m researching.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

He pointed at his left eye.

“Wouldn’t everything be a little easier if you had both?”

“Probably, but Max is worse than I am, so…” You looked at the books. “I can manage.”

He surprised you a second time when he said, “It’s hard to take that ‘put your own oxygen mask on first’ advice, but you should consider it.”

You met his earnest eyes.

“I will.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. You should be the guinea pig before you sprung a healing spell on Lucas or Max. While you were certain a healing spell would never harm, that didn’t mean it would be effective.

Marking your place in the book you’d been reading, you eased off the bed. You knelt in front of your suitcase to pick out a few pairs of socks, a free promo t-shirt you wore when cleaning, and a pair of tartan trousers you hadn’t worn since moving.

There was more at home you’d be happy to donate. You realized you could drop in after healing Max to pick up more — as long as your parents hadn’t returned.

When Steve stopped at your door, you handed over the clothes and told him of your plan. He brightened with a nod. You jokingly assured him not all your clothes were black and scary.

He lifted the stack of clothes.

“Just most of them.”

You laughed as he smiled at you.

He stepped back and said he was leaving, adding he’d leave the spare key on the foyer console. You thanked him and wished him luck before he skipped down the stairs.

As the front door snicked closed, you plucked the book from the bed and found a white tea-candle in your magic supplies. After placing both on the en-suite bathroom counter, you flipped on the light. With a deep inhale, you found your center. Time to be a guinea pig. You opened the book and lit the candle.

Holding your fingertips above the flame, you said, “Magic mend as candle burns; Affliction end and health returns.”

You brought your warmed fingers to the dark, tender bruise on your jaw and repeated the chant. Your skin heated almost to the point of pain. You closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling. Tendrils of cooling energy twisted through your flesh. You shivered and breathed through it.

Once the tendrils dissipated, you opened your eyes and withdrew your fingers. The bruise was gone. You wiggled your jaw, then put pressure where the bruise had been to find it recovered. Like Jason had never punched you.

That was one injury — and the lesser of the two.

You slipped the pressure patch from your eye and examined your reflection. The cursed eye was like any other injury, you rationalized. Surgeons removed damaged bits of the eye all the time. You were no surgeon, of course. You weren’t removing damage; you were healing it. That was different.

You couldn’t psych yourself out, though. It was like making the Creel house go unnoticed on Thursday. Size didn’t matter. Hence, the extent of the injury didn’t matter. It was all the same and all connected. There was plenty of energy in the candle, in the spell, in the universe, and in you to heal this.

You took a few deep breaths before holding your fingertips above the flame and reciting the chant. You closed your eyes as warm energy gathered. You brought your fingers to your left eye, swallowed the mounting tension in your throat, and repeated the chant.

Your fingers went numb. Heat radiated from your eye like needles of fire. Lightning burned under your skin. The floor left your feet. Or your feet left the floor. You couldn’t find the counter. You couldn’t move or think or orient yourself.

You clawed at the dark like a panicked animal. Red flashed across your vision. Rotting vines slithered across every surface, growing thicker. Their musty, sour smell invaded your nose. Your heartbeat thundered through the room. Red flashed again. A figure made of sharp edges and pain moved behind the vines. You stepped back. They stepped back. You reached forward. They reached forward. You screamed at them. Their mouth opened as though mocking you.

You charged forward to thrust your hand between the vines. Your palm hit cold glass. You met the figure’s eyes. They were your own.

You stumbled away. Your back slammed into something hard. Each blink of your eyes tore you through different realities. The gray Upside Down, your sunny reality, glowing lava fields, a silent city made of slate, a world full of unvoiced secrets, neon lights and the scent of stale beer. Time curved in on itself. No future, no past. On and on it flowed until you yelled for it to stop, stop, stop.

The soft bathmat cushioned your calves. You held onto the counter edge with your forehead pressed against the wood cabinet. The side of your nose filled the left border of your vision.

The spell hadn’t worked.

“Shit.”

You hauled yourself to your knees and braced your elbows on the counter. Thin tracks of blood ran down your reflection’s left cheek.

“Shit.”

You stood and bent over the sink to examine closer in the mirror. The cursed eye didn’t look any worse. Its milky pupil and iris were the same as before. Rheumy blood flaked under your touch.

If the spell hadn’t worked for you, you doubted it would work for Max. She’d taken part of the curse, the same as you. Your eye wasn’t only injured. It stood to reason her arm wasn’t only broken. Then you remembered both her eyes looked like your left.

This was more complex than any healing spell could manage—

Which you said to Lucas after mending his swollen cheek and eye.

From behind him, Erica asked, “Can’t you kill this son of a bitch already?”

You glanced over her shoulder at Susan, who slept on the alcove couch.

“I don’t know if a spell would reach him.”

Lucas turned to Erica.

“And if she kills him, she could kill Max.”

You frowned.

“Why do you think that?”

“El said she couldn’t find Max,” he said, tapping his temple.

He’d explained when you’d first arrived the other members of the party were back in town. On Thursday, El had fought Vecna by connecting to Max’s mind, while Vecna was also connected to Max. El then said Vecna had roared in pain and disintegrated into smoke in his own mindscape. Nancy had connected that to her shooting him and Robin Molotov-ing him.

El had seen Max unconscious in Lucas’s arms afterwards. She felt Max’s steady heartbeat then. Max’s heart continued to beat, which the EKG confirmed. However, El entered Max’s mind this morning to find a void.

“You think she’s with Vecna?” you asked.

Erica said, “Or she’s brain-dead.”

Lucas’s face became a mask of absolute anguish.

“Harsh,” you said to her.

Erica shrugged in lieu of saying it was a possibility. It might be, but you didn’t want to give up hope just yet. Lucas returned to the bedside chair to page through The Talisman. There had to be something you could do or something you could offer.

Erica cursed under her breath and went to Susan. After Erica repeated Susan’s name and shook her shoulder numerous times, she woke with a grumble. Erica announced it was two o’clock. Susan blinked in sullen confusion. Erica said Susan had work at four.

Susan’s voice was hoarse when she said, “O-of course. Thank you.”

Erica backed away as Susan coughed with a wince and sat up. She sounded like shit. Her pallid face looked more tired than yesterday.

You asked, “Would you like some water?”

Her drowsy eyes settled on you.

“Oh, you’re back.” She couldn’t seem to muster a smile, but she looked pleased. “It’s good to see you.”

Without waiting for an answer, you went to the squat pitcher and disposable cups on the overbed table and poured her some cool water. Her hands trembled as she took the cup from you, but she managed drinking half the water in one go. That appeared to revive her, and you offered her more.

She nodded with a soft, “Yes, please.”

As you filled her cup, you thought of a quick blessing. She needed strength to see this situation through. For all you knew, she might be the key to bringing Max back, because despite what Erica said, you didn’t think Max was brain-dead.

By the time Susan finished the water, her green eyes had brightened. She stood, fluffed her hair, and straightened her rumpled clothes. She announced she was going back to the motel to shower and change before work, and if anything happened, to give her a call.

You, Lucas, and Erica promised. Susan nodded to herself and hooked her purse over her shoulder. She went to Max, righted one of her braids, and murmured something to her. She hesitated a second, taking a quick look around, before leaving the room.

You placed the pitcher on the overbed table and threw Susan’s cup in the bathroom wastebasket. The tense silence made you aware of every noise you made, from the swish of the wastebasket liner to the crinkle of your clothes and faint footsteps. Rhythmic squeaking of wheels came from the corridor.

Watching the EKG display, you thought of something you could do:

“I can look for Max, too. I don’t have El’s powers, of course, but Max and I, we’re connected.” You shook your head. “I… I might have a better chance of finding her or finding a clue to get her back.”

Lucas asked, “Are you sure?”

“What if Vecna’s got her, and he takes you?” Erica leaned her elbows on the overbed table. “Then we’re down a magic-user — and we need as many as we can get.”

“He can’t get me here. He tried before and he failed.”

“But you died.”

“And yet, here I am, talking to you.”

“Died.”

You threw out your hands. There was no arguing that fact. Yes, you had died. Yes, Vecna’s curse had killed you. Nevertheless, you were alive. Also, Vecna was wounded.

Lucas asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know? Connect with her somehow?”

You thought of psychometry. Through touch you’d seen Eddie’s past. Perhaps through touch you could see Max’s. If you could see when the curse hit her from her point of view, maybe that would show you how to get her back.

“Maybe I can’t communicate with her,” you said. “But I might be able to see how Vecna took her.”

“Then you could reverse his steps.”

“Something like that, sure.”

Lucas sighed in thought, tapping his fingers on the book. He came to a conclusion before looking at you.

“It’s worth a shot.”

Erica huffed in disapproval and retreated to the couch.

You propped a hip on the bed, facing Max. Her delicate fingers curled over the cast. You tucked your hand around them and closed your eye.

Unlike with Eddie, you didn’t have to tell Max to relax and trust you. You loosened your shoulders, breathing deep. You focused on her hand, the stillness of her fingers and the fine skin of her knuckles.

The room went cold. Ambient noise disappeared. The mattress sagged under your weight.

Max’s grip tightened.

You opened your eyes. The pressure patch was gone — as was Max’s cast. She stared at you through milky eyes in a younger face. Her now-smaller hand held fast to yours.

The world went wound-red and drained of life. Only you and she remained in the room. No leaves grew on the trees outside. A motionless, stormy sky hovered close. You were in a frozen, bloody version of your world, like a paused horror movie.

“I can’t sleep,” said Max.

“You’re sleeping in our world.”

“What? How?”

“This isn’t your world.”

“Am I dreaming?”

You hadn’t considered that. She could be dream-walking. If she were, why would she choose this? Why would she be younger?

You said, “I don’t know, but you need to leave this place.”

“You mean I need to wake up?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I can’t. I can’t switch back. I don’t know how.” She frowned. “Where’s El?”

“I don’t know.”

Instinct kept you from telling her El had been at the hospital to visit her earlier in the day. This younger Max could be an illusion. You could be talking to Vecna. Or Vecna could be listening.

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“I was fighting Vecna, and he threw me. Everything went dark.”

“And then?”

“And then I woke up in the goddamn Upside Down.”

You examined the room, noticing how much differed from what you’d seen through the tumbler.

“You sure this is the Upside Down?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s red, and where are the vines? The lightning? The demo-creatures?”

From nowhere, an invisible force pushed you backwards. Your foot skidded across the floor. You held onto Max’s hand. She bent forward to stay with you, then struggled to her knees. Your hip dropped off the crumbling mattress. You gripped the edge of the tattered sheets until they tore.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

“Don’t go!”

“I’m trying!”

But there was nothing to fight against.

You met her panicked gaze.

“We’ll find you! Wherever you are, we’ll find you!”

Your heel hit the floor. You lost your hold on Max’s hand. She screamed your name, crawling to the end of the bed. You pitched backwards, your heel the focal point. For a second, it felt like flying.

You landed hard on your side. Your ears rang. Like Dorothy landing in Oz, the world bloomed in technicolor. The pressure patch was back. Hands rolled you onto your back. Above you, Lucas and Erica blurred and sharpened. Their mouths moved, but their voices couldn’t overpower the ringing. You touched Lucas’s shoulder to confirm you’d returned.

The room dimmed. Shadows deepened. The three of you paused.

Red light flared through the window. Thunder vibrated the glass, restoring your hearing. You froze. You’d brought the Upside Down — or wherever you’d been — with you. Any second, those rotting vines would slither over the walls, the floor, Max’s bed.

Lucas helped you sit. Erica peered at the window on the other side of the bed. The clouds darkened further. When the vines didn’t appear, you used the bedframe to hoist yourself to your feet. Erica went to the window first, Lucas right behind her. You followed them, keeping to the shadows. You dared not look at any reflective surface, lest that sharp-edged figure look back.

Red lightning cut through the iron gray tower of smoke now spewing from the mega-gate’s nexus. Deafening thunder shook your bones. Warmth quaked in your gut a second later, silver and true. It filled the emptiness that had settled days ago.

Pitch black surrounded him. He lay on ice — or something like it. It curved around the back of his bare arms, cooled his body numb. So numb he couldn’t move. And he needed to move. There was work to do, someone to find, wrongs to right. Too much had gone wrong in the world. Too many injustices to name. He could make it right. He could help, gather, hunt.

Blood hung in the air. Screeches echoed through his mind, a hungry call for vengeance. Vines pulsed with wrath. The Source promised a righteous purpose larger than himself. The Source was a kindred soul: misunderstood, rejected, and enraged by the world’s hypocrisy. They were misfits together.

And there was no need to be frightened of anything anymore.

He searched the dark, his fingers not offering the answers he needed. He moved his legs and found the curve of the surface he lay on. Raising a foot, his toe bumped into something hard and smooth inches above. He let his heel fall as he walked his hands across the surface. He pulled it down his body. Whatever he was on moved instead.

He walked his hands above his head to find more of the same smooth surface. To his left were round protrusions, like bolts. Yes, he thought, bolts. Bolts meant hinges. Hinges were weak points.

More bolts were on the right. That was the hinge. The left was the handle. Handles were weak points, too.

He placed his palm on the handle bolts.

The Source said he could free himself. Something as mundane as this wouldn’t injure him.

He slammed the heel of his palm below the bolts. The handle rattled. He struck a second time. The handle whined. He struck again. The handle clanged in the background. He waited for someone to come investigate — police, a guard, even an assistant. He pushed the hatch open and waited a few minutes more. It was nominally brighter beyond, yet there was enough light to see he lay on a metal drawer.

He pulled himself through the portal. The drawer rumbled. Still, no one came. All around the portal were similar metal doors with chrome latch handles. He recognized it for the morgue it was.

He’d been dead. He was dead.

The Source contradicted the thought, saying everyone had mistaken him for dead. They’d not looked close enough. They’d abandoned him. They’d thrown him away. Only Source accepted him and had seen him for the valuable individual he’d always been.

He sat and scooted up the drawer to maneuver his legs out. The skin on his torso pulled. He looked down and gagged. Lines of black stitches or patches of missing flesh disfigured his chest and stomach. He touched the flap of skin on a patch on his right side. It should’ve hurt—

Nothing hurt.

He should’ve been cold. He’d been in a refrigerated box for who knows how long, but he wasn’t.

The Source assured him he was beyond pain.

His right calf and left thigh had been gnawed on, too. Someone had attempted to repair the damage with more black stitches. Those injuries didn’t pull like his torso.

That hardly mattered, though. He needed to leave— wherever the fuck he was. He needed clothes for that, because he was very, very naked. Making anything right usually required covering your ass.

He slipped off the drawer, landing on feet that didn’t feel like his own. His legs wobbled. Every wound protested as he straightened. The skin stretched little by little until he could stand.

A shelving unit stacked with linens stood by the main door. He found a scrub top and held it up. His bare hands felt as naked as the rest of him. That wasn’t how it should be. He only took off— No, he hadn’t taken off anything. He was supposed to see someone. They were waiting— No, no one was waiting for him. Everyone thought he was useless — and dead.

He was forgetting someone— No, they’d forgotten him. He touched his upper chest. Something should be there. They’d stolen something from him.

Yes, someone had taken something from them. He needed to find this person— No, wait for this person. They had an essential component in Source’s plan, and he had to capture it.

“Something’s changed,” you said.

“Uh, yeah,” said Lucas, pointing towards the window. “The Upside Down is invading Hawkins.”

You shook your head.

“No, I feel the pull of something.”

You didn’t want to say you felt the silver flame of Eddie’s energy for the first time in days. That sounded hokey even to yourself. If the emptiness — which had to have been Eddie — was filled, it meant Eddie was alive. You couldn’t desert him. You had to find him.

Erica said, “You can’t go now.”

Lucas nodded.

“The party doesn’t separate.”

“Even if it’s for a member of the party?”

“Who is it?”

“I think it’s Eddie.”

“What about Max?” he asked. “Did you find her?”

With a nod, you explained the paused, red world where Max couldn’t sleep. Max thought she was dreaming, but you weren’t sure it was her dream. You theorized it was an illusion to keep her stuck. There had to be something to get her unstuck. She wanted to switch back, but she didn’t know how.

“She exists in two worlds,” you said. “Her body in ours, her mind in another.”

“Or in Vecna’s mind.”

“We have to unite her,” said Erica.

“She asked where El was, but I didn’t tell her. Because I don’t know, and because I didn’t want Vecna finding out.” The pull of Eddie being alive nagged at your consciousness, and you shook your head. “Look, I can’t stay. I gotta find Eddie.” You grabbed your purse from where you’d left it by the door. “Guard Max. Hide her, if you have to.”

Erica and Lucas shared a look.

“We can do that,” he said.

You gave them a nod before leaving the room. Eddie’s energy drew you outside. Though you didn’t understand, you took the service stairs down. Hospital personnel pushed open doors and passed you on the stairs without questioning you.

While the first-floor corridors bustled with people and staff, a hushed tension overlaid every conversation. You swerved around anxious groups of two or three and the occasional thousand-yard-stare loner.

Outside, the scent of smoke and hot ozone had your eyes near burning and your nose on the verge of running. Ash fell like snow from the low ceiling of the clouds. It disappeared when it touched your skin.

You brought your shirt collar over your nose, then crossed the parking lot to your car. You stowed your purse in the trunk and pocketed the keys. There, you hesitated. If Eddie wasn’t in the hospital, he could be anywhere. Perhaps Wayne had identified him and took him to another hospital. However, there wasn’t another hospital in Hawkins. Maybe he was at a doctor’s office. His wounds might’ve looked worse than they were. That didn’t explain his absence from Indra’s net or his reappearance, though.

You turned to the path that led through the trees at the back of the parking lot. Except for funeral homes, only the hospital and coroner’s office could store dead bodies. If Eddie was in a funeral home, word about it would’ve been everywhere by now.

His energy wasn’t far, yet it was muddled, like poor reception on a TV. You tried getting more of a read on him. Pain lit your nerves, making you back off. You pressed your shirt over the bridge of your nose and breathed deep.

Fine, you thought. The coroner’s office it is.

You had to get yourself worked up. An injured girl near tears could get sympathetic assistance and soothing information. You made your breath shallow and rapid as you marched across the parking lot. You brought to mind every stressor: your father rejecting your every idea, being a stranger in this town, Vecna disfiguring your face after stealing your magic, making mistake after mistake and not finding the strength to get over it or fix it, finding Eddie and losing him all in one night.

Tears rimmed your eyes as you walked under the coroner’s office awning. You righted your shirt and pushed at the door. It clanked in its frame.

“What the hell?”

You caught your breath. Maybe you had to pull it. You tried that, earning another clank.

It was locked. Still.

That was complete bullshit.

Your tears evaporated as you grit your teeth. You would not be kept from him any longer. It didn’t matter if he was alive, dead, or undead. You would see Eddie.

You placed a palm over the deadbolt.

“You are undone,” you whispered to it.

Its screws unwound and fell to the floor. The outside cover tumbled off. The interior mechanism flicked open and teetered in the hole. You encouraged it to drop with a jab.

You swiped the cover from the sidewalk before entering the building. Inside, you gathered the deadbolt pieces and dumped them in a potted plant in the dim waiting room. You went to the empty check-in counter to find the area beyond it vacated and dark, save for the blinking lights of the desk phone.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind the reinforced door to your left. With nowhere to run, you put on an innocent expression and curled your shoulders inward. A guard in fatigues tore back the door while another rushed into the waiting room, guns in hand.

“Hands up!” said the closest guard as the door closed behind them.

You raised your hands as your gaze bounced from one to the other. They both had black armbands with MP decorating the side. Military police. Your hunch yesterday about the Humvees had been correct.

“How did you get in here?”

“The front door?” You glanced at it. “The lock’s gone.”

“State your business.”

“I can’t find my-my parents.” You didn’t have to force any nervousness with two guns pointed at you. “They’re not at the hospital. And… and-and the ER told me to check he-here.”

The MPs scowled.

A frenzy of banging and clanging came from behind the door. The MPs turned from you with guns at the ready. You took a step back, heart in your throat.

What were they keeping back there?

The door flew off its hinges, springing off the linoleum by its corner. It ricocheted and crashed into an MP, who toppled to the floor. The door landed to cover his top half. His gun skidded into the waiting room.

“Back away!” yelled the remaining MP. “Hands up!”

You turned your attention away from the gun, thinking he yelled at you. Rather, his attention was on the person in the doorway.

You almost didn’t believe your eyes. You’d expected a demogorgon or some other sort of hellish creature. It was neither. It was Eddie. Unmistakable, even backlit by the severe hallway light. His usually wild hair hung limp around his face. Green scrubs had replaced his clothes.

Eddie hissed at the MP and stomped onto the collapsed door. The MP underneath bleated in protest.

If he kept on like this, he was going to be shot.

“Eddie?”

He turned his focus on you, his blank expression so unlike himself.

The MP shouted, “I said, hands up!”

Eddie’s eyes had you taking another step back. They were like your left: cursed. His skin was waxen like the dead. A tag hung from his big toe. You didn’t know who this was, but he wasn’t your Eddie. He felt like him, looked like him, had his silver flame, but he wasn’t Eddie.

The door was less than a yard away. You could make it out before anyone would reach you. Once outside, you could dash to your car — or lead Eddie away from the hospital.

You pivoted on one foot. A cold body plowed into yours. Hands grabbed your upper arms. The check-in counter dug into your back. Eddie reared up over you.

He’d moved too fast to be natural. In comparison, the MP turned in slow motion.

Eddie pulled the pressure patch down your face.

With a pleased look, he said, “Ah, I see you’re half ours already.”

His breath smelled of old blood.

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have you join us?”

He leaned in to drag his nose over your cheek, inhaling as he went. You closed your eyes and pinched your mouth shut. His dry, cracked lips skipped up your cheek.

“Pretty, pretty witch.”

“Show me your hands,” ordered the MP.

“Should I let him shoot me?” Eddie asked you.

“Don’t shoot,” you called over his shoulder. “He’s… He’s not hurting me.”

Eddie hummed in your ear. “Take me to Max.”

You couldn’t let him get his hands on her. He’d take her to Vecna. If Vecna had you, Max, and Eddie — all cursed in one manner or another — it would be a recipe for destruction. He’d drain you like a vampire, sacrifice Eddie, and use Max as a pawn. Or maybe something even worse. You couldn’t let any of that happen.

You arched away to look into Eddie’s cursed eyes, so much like your own. You’d tear Vecna limb from limb for this. Apart from El, only you had power enough to destroy him. And you could with the Eradix spell you’d found on Thursday.

“Step away from the girl!”

Eddie snarled and turned his head like a predator. He released your arms before you could protest. You reached for his shirt to keep him with you. Your fingers grasped air.

A triple pop of gunfire had you hunching and covering your head. The waiting room window shattered. A gust of smoke and ash poured into the building. Boots shuffled across the floor. The MP grunted as something clattered.

You wanted to look, make sure Eddie hadn’t been shot, but you needed to get out of there. A wet gurgle and grind turned your stomach. You scurried to the main door, pulling it open. Wind dragged the door from your hand. It thudded against the wall.

With a flinch, you peeked over your shoulder. Eddie stared back. Blood dripped down his chin. The MP hung slack from his hands.

Everything narrowed.

Then everything sharpened as you steadied the main door and sprinted to the street.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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brujahinaskirt · 9 days

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historical fiction language & diction choices (especially deliberate anachronism) and their relationship to character voice is so funny. like one can write 300k words of vicious 19th c american outlaws with barely a misplaced "fuck" uttered, but here one (1) medieval lord walks onstage and cannot get through 3 sentences without bleating WELL FUCK ME, I DON'T FUCKING KNOW????

#sometimes the spirit of a word transcends its actual history in a way more important than adherence to historical accuracy #it's about translating the tone and tenor of a character into a nondisruptive but understandable parlance #preserving their style as much as the speech #honoring the setting as well as your audience #it's about the seasoning of a little guy #crucial absolutely CRUCIAL that hans capon is allowed to say fuck off

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thekatebridgerton · 2 years

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So I watched Rosaline 2022. And I have a some thoughts:

1. I loved it, would totally recommend. Go watch it, that movie is so fun

2. Rosaline with Juilet gave me true Lucy and Hermione vibes. So if you want to know what I hope for Lucy Abernathy's best friend dynamic with Hermione Watson during Bridgerton final season: watch how Rosaline runs around behind Juliet trying to keep her from eloping with a stranger for her own slightly selfish reasons

3. I knew Isabela Merced would look amazing in a period drama!! And I was right

4. Alternatively I also want for show Eloise and Phillip, what Rosaline and Dario had in the movie. Like, seriously all of it. He's introduced as a prospective "decent" suitor she's got no interest in, after that he keeps finding her in troublesome situations he wants no involvement in, but still helps her and they start growing on each other until it turns into love

5. Was Dario's shirtless boat scene necessary? No, was it appreciated by Thirsty viewers? Yes 100%!! do it again !!

6. Can Hulu lend some of their writers to Netflix for a few minutes? Because THIS is how you modernize a book adaptation.

You don't take a beloved main character that book fans care about and wokeify it because you feel like it. it's way better to take a secondary character that fans didn't know very well and give it a personality and their unique pov. Taking care not to trample on the main storyline in the process.

Note that Rosaline 2022 didn't rewrite Romeo and Juliet, it just showed the pov of someone who was involved in the story and didn't think it was all that romantic. Sort of like telling Penelope's story from Felicity's point of view. (A character fans know was there, but didn't get to know in depth). Or telling Kate's story from Edwina's pov. Seriously, fans would pay money for an Edwina or a Felicity novella side story

7. My point is that because the storyline and the dialogue was good, the viewer was cool with the anachronisms and lack historical accuracy. Good writing can and will erase a multitude of sins on screen. Your viewers will forgive almost anything if you give them a good compelling story! If it's funny even better. But the writing needs to be good

8. My point is I really liked Rosaline 2022.

#rosaline 2022 #rosaline capulet #rosaline hulu #bridgerton #period drama done right

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yourdeepestfathoms · 2 years

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RtC kids and their Halloween costumes, to celebrate the start of October

Ocean: goes every year as something clever that nobody else gets. One year went as a sheet ghost, but if anyone asked she was “an undercover agent.” This year she’s collecting clothes all from slightly different time periods so that she looks initially like she’s wearing a badly researched historical costume. Everyone in town knows her well enough to know that she’s not though. She’s actually dressed as a historical anachronism.

Noel: we all know what he says in the show. He’s Lola Lola dressed as something normal. This year, the normal costume is a creeper from Minecraft (he took costume suggestions and Penny forced him into doing it)

Mischa: Mischa is wearing normal clothes, but with a hat with a picture of an egg with the little green scent squiggles above it. Any time someone asks, he recommends his YouTube channel

Ricky: either something sci fi or a character from CATS the musical. This year, he’s dressed as the eleventh doctor and is calling Ocean “Pond.” She does not get the joke. He won’t tell her. He made the others swear they wouldn’t either. (For reference, the joke is that the Eleventh doctor travelled with a ginger named Amelia Pond and he thought the water names were funny)

Penny: scrappy doo.

Constance: Constance dresses as the tired mother who’s only here because her kids (the rest of the choir) wanted to go trick or treating

Bonus! one year, the choir manages to coordinate well enough to go as the Scooby gang. Ocean is bullied into going as Daphne because they’re both redheads. She wanted to go as Velma. Everyone else refused. Constance is Velma. Mischa is Shaggy and really commits to the walk, but if anyone tries to take a photo he acts like he doesn’t want to be there. Noel is Fred and complains about dressing like a straight boy until he’s handed an ascot. Ricky is Scooby and is also having the time of his life. Any time someone makes fun of the choir for coordinating a costume even though they’re in high school, Ricky “accidentally” knocks them in the shins with his crutches.

Penny is still Scrappy Doo.

ANON THESE ARE ALL SO GOOD, AND “Scrappy Doo” FUCKING TOOK ME OUT

#ask #I LOVE IT #ride the cyclone headcanons #rtc headcanons #rtc #ride the cyclone #ocean o’connell rosenberg #noel gruber #mischa bachinski #constance blackwood #ricky potts #penny lamb #jane doe #queue

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fluffypotatey · 1 year

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Being a medieval geek and watching medieval shows is both a blessing and a curse, because sometimes the anachronism is funny, and other times it makes you want to throttle the writers and ask them what the fuck they're doing.

Funny Things: technically none of the saddles on BBC Merlin should have stirrups, those didn't reach England until 10th century during the Viking invasions. The shiny decoration on Morgana's green dress wouldn't be beading but most likely preserved beetle shells. The bright red colour of the Pendragon banners and capes would come from a dye made with bugs.

I-Have-QUESTIONS Things: If Gaius and Hunith are supposed to be siblings and Gaius wasn't previously a freeman (ergo bound in service to Camelot, meaning his entire family was also) how did Hunith end up in another kingdom, that's literally illegal, she's also got an education that she clearly passed on to Merlin, so their family must have had wealth/importance at one point, so again WHY IS SHE IN PODUNK, ESSETIR, and [gunshots]

here me out: Young Hunith was an anarchist and deliberately left Camelot bc she wanted to start her own life somewhere else, thereby going against Gaius's wishes to stay low and keep the peace. unlike her relative Gaius, who stayed bc that was the law and whatnot, Hunith said "fuck that" and in this essay i will--

#evidence? you mean the stuff where their sources are me? that evidence?#part one of the essay is explaining medieval hierarchy and fealty #part two is explaining why hunith left camelot willingly with the knowledge that such an act was punishable #conclusion is a segue to explain why her past actions can be reflected on her son merlin and how he goes about the show #bbc merlin #hunith #she's a powerhouse of a woman #headcanon??? i think you mean absolutely canon #yep nothing to see here but the truth of hunith #better yet let's pull will into this he's basically hunith's 2nd son tbh #will and merlin provide great example of who hunith was in her younger years #why will?? bc her and will's mom was close and she raised him when he had no one else duh #asks #also can we discuss the absolute confusion on WHEN THE FUCK ARTHURIAN LEGEND TAKES PLACE?????#KNIGHTS WEREN'T A THING UNTIL HENRY THE CONQUEROR CAME BC FRENCH INFLUENCES #THEY SAY THEY FOUGHT THE SAXONS BUT WERE ALLIES WITH MERCIA (AN ANGLO SAXON KINGDOM)#WHEN ARE YOU SET TELL ME

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irregularcollapse · 18 days

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for the ask game, 17, 28, and 37!

Thanks so much anon!! These are so fun wheeeee

(Questions from this list!!)

17. Past or present tense? Why?

Present! I prefer it for the sense of immediacy and immersion, especially for romance and erotica. I think it situates the character and the reader in the moment in a really effective way, and it also makes it easier for the reader to distinguish between what is flashback/reflection and what is current.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

This is VAGUE I love it. Okay, truly madly deeply, the most important character-related question you can ask yourself (and your character) is why--and the answer can't be a personality trait.

What I mean by this is, when you're writing a character and you want them to do something, you need to think about why they would do that. If your answer to that question is "they're an asshole" or "they're funny" or "they're a sweetie"--a characteristic, not a reason--then you need to dig deeper.

Real people are products of everything that has happened to them and everything they have witnessed/experienced. Characters should be the same. There should be internal logic to their behaviours, even if those behaviours are difficult for other characters (or the reader) to understand.

I talk about the why drive a bit more (from an analysis perspective) here!

37. Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you?

A little of both!! Some things come up during the planning process that I want to nut out before I start writing, but other times things come up organically and then I flag them for clarification during editing. Like for example, with 19th Century mourning traditions in a storm that took everything, I had some approximate knowledge so I just wrote and included things that I could remember, then after finishing that bit went back and adjusted things so they were a bit more accurate according to what I could find through some quick research.

On the other hand, I did look into period-accurate clothing before I started writing, because I wanted to make sure I was getting vibes correct. This research also helped me settle on a loose/approximate time period of "late 19th Century" rather than a specific year, so I could kind of pick and choose what I wanted without getting bogged down in whether something was an anachronism or not. This helped future research points as well! Such as figuring out whether specific words were in use at the time or not.

#asks #anonymous #my writing #tysm for these!!! very fun to think about

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t4tliquidmantis · 1 year

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now im giving YOU ask game questions ok so Liquid and Mantis individually for the questions 3, 12, 28, 30

3: A song that reminds me of them Mantis- Stranger Than You Dreamt It (Phantom of the Opera), My Girlfriend Is a Witch (October Country), I'm All Bloody Inside (Liam Lynch)

Liquid- I Wish You Were A Girl (12 RODS), Favourite Parasite (little purr man), Girl Anachronism(The Dresden Dolls)

12: Sexuality hc! Mantis- Aroace + no attraction but has a weird gay thing about liquid. bonus gender hc he's mtx transfem

Liquid- He's aroace he's gay he's bisexual he's attracted to men he has zero interest in any of that stuff. Liquid's sexuality is a mystery to me though I do want to mention that one fic where he's referenced as "the infamously sexless Liquid Snake" because that line stuck with me forever. Also he's transmasc

28: The most unnecessary thing they ever did? Mantis- Trying soooo hard to show off in mgs4 only to get sent to hell like two minutes later. Like dude it wasn't even going well. I will say though that VIBRATION IS BACK!!!! is Really fucking funny so it was all vital actually. #Gamer

Liquid- Throwing Shabani's necklace in the pit dude you're sooo jealous. He was so jealous that literally everyone except his previous unit was besties or whatever with Shabani. It's a little so fucking funny to me. He didn't need to do that

30: The funniest scene they had? Mantis- Like half his lines during the mgs1 fight but especially the selfish and atavistic desire to pass on ones seed. Okay dude you didn't have to say it like that. Honorable mention to running over Volgin w/ Sahelanthropus though

Liquid- Twin snakes you enjoy all the Killing, that's Why. Or alternatively when u first run into him and he's just. In The Lawn Chair. He wants to be cool so bad. He wishes he was Jack Merridew

#asks #TYTYTY #sorry my liquid song answers are a little weak. i dont have a playlist for him yet and my liquidmantis playlist is very. mantis pov ish #also added hc w/ mantis and music is hed fucking love repo the genetic opera. sadly he died 3 years too early but #liquid snake #psycho mantis

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