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lord-squiggletits · 3 months

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I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #i'm sure the doylist reason for the writing is just that pharma was a designated villain #so since he's a villain and 'crazy' it's fine for everyone even the good guys to treat him like complete trash #i just think from a watsonian perspective taking a sympathetic approach is way more interesting and logically consistent #what i mean is like. from a meta perspective one of the best ways to show that a character is super evil and not worth saving #is when even the good guy heroes. the ones who are supposed to be kind and compassionate and wise. see him as dirt #and this is also kind of a necessity in most plots bc TF is the kind of series that just needs action villains and long-term antagonists #so not every villain is written or has a plot to be made redeemable. and pharma is one of these bc he's not important or a legacy character #so from a doylist (meta) perspective you could read the autobots' disregard of pharma as a sign of #'this guy is not meant to have your sympathy as a reader. pay no attention to him'#but from a watsonian (in universe) perspective it paints a miserable picture of pharma being utterly forsaken by the ppl he served alongsid #and like yeah i'm super autistic about pharma so of course i view him with sympathy but like #the idea of being a loyal and good person for years only to be subjected to a Torment Nexus of #being blackmailed into breaking all of the oaths you held sacred. under threat of you and all your comrades dying horrible torturous deaths #then when your comrades find out about it they focus solely on the 'harvesting organs' and not on the 'blackmail' part #and then you get literally left for dead by your comrades and best friend hating your guts #and then you get rescued by a guy who uses you as a test subject for his evil machine #this is a fucking nightmare scenario like pharma could hardly be suffering more if the author TRIED to make him suffer #and for me it's like. the evil pharma did can't be decontextualized to what drove him to that. as well as the question of like #how easily ppl can write someone off as evil and turn a blind eye to (or even find satisfaction in) their suffering bc theyre evil #and either brought it on themselves or it's just karma paying a visit #like. i feel like if pharma WERE a shitty doctor and a terrible person his whole life then the delphi situation would feel like karma #but the way it's written and the lore retroactively put in makes it feel more pharma getting thrown in a torture carousel #and THEN becoming evil. but then being treated as if he was always evil or was some sort of bad apple #bc like i'm not opposed to LOLing when a villain gets a karmic torture/death related to the wrongs they committed #but in pharma's case it feels less like karma and more like endless torture + being abandoned by ppl who should have been more loyal

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willowser · 10 months

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okay but imagine one day the little one goes up to his daddy and tells him you introduced a guy to him and how much he doesn’t like this man. It doesn’t even have to be a romantic partner it could just be an old friend but lil one and ex!husband bakugou instantly assume you have a new man in your life

omg. the heart attack bakugou is having.

your son is standing on his little step-stool in front of katsuki's bathroom mirror. meant to be brushing his little teeth, but he's mostly chewing on his toothbrush, poking around in his dad's cologne and aftershave and deodorant. at least he's put his pj's on by himself.

katsuki is finishing up his own shower, glancing at him every now and then as he washes the shampoo from his own hair, and when he's finally done, the little boy hasn't gotten any closer to having clean teeth; now he's drawing mindless little shapes through the steam that's built up on the glass.

"oi," he only has to say it once and then your son is letting out a little sigh before brushing the way he's meant to — even if katsuki knows the there's not a lick of toothpaste on that thing.

"dad," he says suddenly, distracted as he turns around to face him. "mommy doesn't let me take a shower."

katsuki moved on from bath time rather quick. in the very beginning, it was fine, because he washed his squirmy son and then wrapped him up in a towel and that was it, but in the last year or so it's turned into "how many toys can i bring with me this time, dad?" and then sitting in the water until it's run cold. it's much easier to get him in the shower at the same time, to shampoo his head and scrub his little butt and then kick him out.

"oh, yeah?" he murmurs, adjusting the towel on his waist. "s'cause mom's better at baths than me."

the little boy only shrugs, before continuing. he's in a small phase right now of 'dad? hey dad? um, dad?' every time he's got something to say, and katsuki finds it both cute and a little exhausting.

"hey dad?"

katsuki hums.

"mommy had a man in her shower."

the first image that comes to mind is of himself, in your shower; the many times you'd taken one together and hugged him beneath the warm water; how it clung to your eyelashes and sat in your cupid's bow. warm, made soft and tender in the steam, like he could mold you against his body forever.

— and then his stomach is swooping so hard, he thinks he might be sick.

"what?" katsuki asks, voice loud and affronted, snatching all his son's attention. "sorry, 'm sorry," and then because his son is still looking at him with wide eyes, he pulls him up close, rubbing his back once before setting him to stand on the counter — which he never gets to do.

guilt twists in his stomach for yelling, though his son seems unbothered now, at new heights. katsuki grabs him by his little tiny shoulders and tries to keep his face smooth and calm, his pending heartbreak hidden.

"who was in mom's shower?"

but your son is smarter than that, can read katsuki like an open book, somehow. as if you passed all your understanding down through the womb; he came out of there knowing exactly what dad was thinking with a single look.

your son only shrugs, averting his eyes to katsuki's shoulder as he lightly pinches his wet skin.

"'m sorry," he says again, shaking his little body around until the boy is laughing. "i'm not mad. i just..." katsuki sighs and tries not to pout. "wasn't expecting that."

"are you mad at mommy?"

the divorce isn't new, and katsuki's not stupid.

you've been on a handful of dates, been open about it, encouraged him to do the same. not that he's bothered, but anyone with eyes and half a brain would try to swoop in on someone like you, so — as much as it makes him want to knock some fucking teeth in — can't say he should be surprised.

he shouldn't be, at all.

still feels like shit, though.

"no," he finally says, tugging the little toothbrush from his tiny fist to put some actual toothpaste on it. "'m not mad at anybody."

"are you sad?"

maybe it's another purposeful distraction, to get out of doing what he's told, or maybe he's probing at nerves because he's too young and too curious, or maybe he just knows his dad too well.

katsuki frowns at his big eyes, staring back at him, before lightly patting his little hip. "brush your teeth, i ain't tellin' you again."

he tries not to think about it, but that just makes it worse. can't stop imagining you in the arms of some other asshole, what stupid shit they must be doing to flirt with you, how they're making you laugh; just the image of it alone — you, besides some fucking bozo, head thrown back the way you do, laughing louder than you ever did with him — makes his stomach hurt.

it makes him dread the hand-off, too. his house is gonna feel too quiet now, after a week with the little brat, and that's a big enough wound to leave him with nothing to say — but you always try to insist on katsuki finding someone every time you get back out there.

it makes him physically ill, just watching the side of your face as you buckle your son into his car seat, all grins because your house gets to be lively with him.

and when you close the door and turn to him and mutter out your little, "hey, by the way....", he has half a mind to just walk away, right then.

"your son," you start off, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "got into the dryer sheets last week and flushed a whole bunch of them down the toilet."

oh.

"oh," katsuki says, and then he narrows his eyes at his son through the window, even though he's not paying any attention.

(on the nights when the little boy can't sleep, is more emotional than usual, katsuki calls you because that's what your son really wants.)

(very relatable feeling, katsuki thinks.)

"yeah," you smile, "and my coworker's husband is a plumber, so i was able to get it all taken care of. just...thought i would let you know."

katsuki shrugs like he could care less, but you see right through it all, of course. the both of you, mother and son, too understanding for his own good.

almost like you were made for him, like you're supposed to still be his.

"yeah, good," he nods once, glancing over your shoulder to see your son finally sitting up a little bit, peering through the window with his big, sad eyes.

just watching the two of you. just knowing.

#WAAAAHHHH he tries so hard with him 🥺#and it makes your little cutie patootie a little more emotionally intelligent !!!!#which katsuki thinks is a good thing !!! bc he's bad at it LMAOO #i'm sorry i know this isn't exactly what you were probably thinking but akfhkahfakh this is so cute PLEASE HE'S SO UPSET #thinks about it ALL DAY LONG #just to be like....oh hmm ? yeah good. cool. nice.#PFFFFTT LOSER YOU WERE SO AHFHHIAUHUG #cw children #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: dad bakugou #✿ theme: ex husband bakugou

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demigod-of-the-agni · 5 months

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kurunthokai, 168 — “what the hero said to his heart”

#i did this in a rush. that's why some things look wonky and weird and T-T #me drawing vague shapes then scribbling over them #here is some pavayatri for you #goldenmodel #pavitr x gayatri #literally whatever you call them #i tried translating slash rewriting the original kurunthokai poem #but it's in pure tamil so most of the words don't really line up with modern tamil/english #so i put my degree in bad writing to use. hopefully this does the poem justice #anyway yeah. have these babies #i love pavitr and gayatri so much!!!!!#i saw this poem and immediately thought “you know what would be absolutely sick. asm121 redraw”#and then I DID IT #no i am not sorry. not really. dw i gave myself psychic damage while drawing this #“the night gayatri singh died” be like #gayatri singh #pavitr prabhakar #spider man india #atsv #atsv pavitr #spider man #artoftheagni #its 1am rn if you have any beef with me please wait another six hours. i hate staying up so late

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parasitoidism · 2 months

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Nothing ever changes in scrap world

#GUYS ITS STILL STUDYING IF YOU LISTEN TO A LECTURE WHILE U DRAW #devilman #These guys are such fun to draw I think I could take more stylistic liberty with their hair but it’s funnnnnnn it’s fun #i should draw Akira more. he’s a little guy #the reason he’s looking at a catfish is cos I like catfish so much #this time FEATURING illegible handwriting . ever wonder why on anything moderately finished with writing i use the text tool? yeah #also why i write in all caps i think its more readable in all caps #anyways yeah i love. that outfit hes wearing with the silk scarf. its reallyfunny to me.#he definitely shouldn't have been at the club we tried that out and it didn't work. maybe he should have been in the microwave or something #edit i drew his eyeliner wrong? this is what happens when you dont look at a reference

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transalfredpennyworth · 24 days

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one of those 'peter in gotham' aus except lex fucking luthor is the one that finds him. Can you imagine the shenanigans. peter accidentally goes through a portal and lands in the outskirts of metropolis where luthor just so happens to have a factory doing Something. and luthors employees find him and go to luthor like Hey boss,, Umm. theres a teenager in the grass. luthors like, what happened? cue the factory workers going i dont know! the kid jsut fell out of this weird portal thing! and hes like,,, Hm.

superman definitely should be relevant but i still want the batfamily to meet peter. can you imagine that luthors kryptonite reserves were discovered and confiscated. and theres some discovered in gotham, whether it be naturally discovered there or someones like, selling it? and so thats how peter gets sent to gotham? although i cant see luthor letting him loose on the big wide world without some insurance, because hes definitely obscuring some of the facts from peter in order to manipulate him.

hmmm maybe luthor traps peter in a deal that peter cant easily get out of (at the cost of his or someone elses safety) so that even when peter Does discover how bad luthor is, he cant just bail out. idk i just think its very funny how every single person peter is vaguely acquainted with turns out to be a supervillain. or somehow personally wronged by him. and i think that should extend beyond universes.

#should i write this.#after peter finds out luthor is The Worst he officially swears off billionaires and then-#-bruce tries to talk to him as Bruce Wayne and peters internally like: oh god not fucking again. are you kidding me. im cursed #peter @ bruce: btw if you turn out to be the next coming of like. The Antichrist im going to be pretty upset. so dont do that #bruce: ? yeah. Okay. [internally: he needs help . Guidance. A F]#dick‚ stopping suddenly and looking around suspiciously: something just happened.#(jason in the background: what the fuck are you- ohshit. what the hell. What the hell just happened]#dc #dc x marvel #dc x mcu #peter parker #batfamily #batfam #lex luthor #spiderman #bruce wayne

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 7 months

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hey remember that caramel-carmel Fake Script i was writing? yeah it's technically not done but i'm tired of tinkering with it so here it is! we'll just say it's a uhhhh uncovered partial script or somethin

this is not in any way official! it's a 100% unaffiliated fanwork & i am Just Fucking Around for Funsies

BARNABY: oh, I love carmul!

FRANK: [long, disgusted pause] …what?

BARNABY: Carmul! You know, those tasty little treats you’re holdin’!

FRANK: You mean caramel?

BARNABY: That’s what I said.

FRANK: [scoffs] No, you didn’t. You said carmul.

BARNABY: We’re sayin’ the same thing here.

FRANK: We absolutely are not!

JULIE: [giggles] You really aren’t.

BARNABY: Carmul, caramel, tomato, tomahto! What does it matter!

FRANK: [flustered, stammering] It - it matters! Julie, you agree with me, don’t you?

JULIE: Well… I don’t know, Frank! I think both are fun!

FRANK: You’re both wrong, then! Wally, you agree with me, don’t you?

WALLY: [hesitant] …I say carmul.

FRANK: No! Not you too! How could you poison him like this, Barnaby?

BARNABY: Don’t look at me! I’m innocent, honest!

FRANK: Ha! So you admit that carmul is the wrong pronunciation!

BARNABY: [groans] ah, geez… throw a dog a bone!

FRANK: I’d be delighted to if you’d just-

[distant yelp as Eddie trips off-screen]

FRANK: Eddie! Thank goodness, finally someone who can put an end to this debate!

EDDIE: [nervous laugh] Oh no, what did I stumble into this time?

BARNABY: Hold on a tic, Frank. Hey Ed, take this. What do you call that tasty treat?

EDDIE: [with a tinge of fear] A… caramel?

FRANK: [triumphant] a-HA!

SALLY: [approaching] Did someone mention carmul?

FRANK: AGH!

BARNABY: [delighted] Perfect timing, Sally!

SALLY: What, for a delicious morsel? Hand it over, thank you!

FRANK: You’re all wrong, and I’ll prove it! We’re going to go around the neighborhood and - wait. [under his breath] One two three four - [returns to normal volume] we’re taking this to Poppy’s!

BARNABY: Then Home, then Howdy, yeah yeah - might as well ask the daisies, too.

JULIE: Oooh, and the butterflies!

SALLY: While we’re at it, we should phone everyone in the book, just to get the widest audience input.

FRANK: [unamused] You all think you’re so funny.

EDDIE: Well, you gotta admit it’s… it’s…

[brief, tense pause. Eddie clears his throat]

EDDIE: It’s perfectly sensible!

[Frank makes an affronted noise]

FRANK: Poppy will see sense.

POPPY: I’d be delighted to have a cah-mehl, but I’m afraid it-

FRANK: [aghast, truly astonished] You’re joking. You have to be joking. CAH-MEHL? Does no one in this town have sense?! Besides Eddie, of course. And Julie - on a technicality.

EDDIE: [oddly pleased] Why thank you.

POPPY: My goodness, did- did I say it wrong?

BARNABY: [gleeful] Not in the least, Pops!

SALLY: As far as I’m concerned, you added an extra layer of… pizazz to the word. In fact, I may adjust my own pronunciation accordingly!

POPPY: [flustered] Oh, well, I didn’t - don’t change on my account -

SALLY: Take the compliment, Poppy.

POPPY: [meekly] Thank you.

[Sally wanders from the group, practicing the slightly adjusted pronunciation]

WALLY: I’m not sure I understand. What’s wrong with carmul or… care… mul… carmel…

POPPY: Don’t strain yourself dear, you’ll get a migraine.

FRANK: What’s wrong is that it’s ENTIRELY incorrect! It! Is! Pronounced! Caramel!

JULIE: Aww, Frank, I’m sure Home and Howdy will agree with us! Team Caramel, WOOO!

BARNABY: [barely restrained disbelief] Boy, won’t they!

POPPY: I’m not sure what the fuss is about… there isn’t much of a difference, is there?

[Frank makes a high pitched, frustrated noise and stomps off. He can be heard calling Home’s name in the background]

JULIE: Oop, there he goes!

POPPY: Oh - oh dear. I didn’t mean to rile him up.

BARNABY: Don’t twist your beak about it - Frank’s just bein’ Frank. Now if you’ll excuse us, I wanna see how it goes with Home.

WALLY: [quietly, thoughtful] But Home doesn’t talk like us…

POPPY: If you’re sure… Do let me know how it goes.

SALLY: [swaying back to the group] I’ll phone you post-haste! Or even better, I can come by for one of your delicious muffins and regale you with the whole escapade, in detail.

POPPY: [audibly pleased] That sounds - well that sounds like a wonderful idea! I have some fresh from this morning-

BARNABY: Sounds great! See you around, Poppy.

FRANK: Home, I have an important question to ask you. Is the correct pronunciation for this candy ‘carmul’, or ‘caramel’? One creak for caramel, two for the incorrect carmul.

BARNABY: Talk about a bias…

[Home stays silent. Sally yawns.]

FRANK: One creak for caramel, two-

[Home slowly shuts their curtains]

FRANK: Hmph! The nerve… well, I suppose a house that can’t speak shouldn’t have a say, anyway.

WALLY: Home can speak. He just does it differently.

BARNABY: And I’m pretty sure they just agreed with me, Walls, an’ Sally.

JULIE: They did not!

BARNABY: Looked like it to me!

SALLY: I have to agree with Julie. Home just declared itself a neutral party, and so the vote can’t be counted either way. On to Howardson!

JULIE: Yes! Howdy! Our last hope!

FRANK: He may have terrible taste in company, but he’s a sensible businessman. Poppy and Home have let me-

JULIE: Us!

FRANK: -us down, but surely Howdy will back us up.

BARNABY: [faux-serious tone, knows something they don’t] Absolutely. Without a doubt.

[store bell chimes]

HOWDY: Howdy-do - [brief pause, a tinge of surprise] everyone! My my, what brings the entire neighborhood to my bountiful bodega? Finally decided to clean me out for good?

BARNABY: [snorts] With how fast you restock? I think I’d break my funnybone!

FRANK: We have important business.

HOWDY: [mildly curious] Do we? That’s news to me! But I’m letting you know now that I don’t deal in bugs, Frankly. It’d be hypocritical.

FRANK: Believe me, I wish I were here to talk insects. Unfortunately, I need to settle a score. Mr. Dear, if you would?

EDDIE: If I would what?

SALLY: [stage-whisper] Barnabello gave you the, ah, parcel earlier?

EDDIE: The…? Oh! Oh, right - I have it right here, just… give me a second… which pocket…? There we go.

[sound of a small, hard candy placed on the countertop]

HOWDY: A carmul all for me? You shouldn’t have! No, really, you shouldn’t have. I’m on the clock.

BARNABY: [loud bark of laughter] I knew I could count on you, pal! So what’s the tally, Frankie?

[Frank mutters something inaudible]

BARNABY: What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of me bein’ right!

FRANK: [explosive] You’re all wrong! The correct pronunciation is caramel, CARAMEL! You’re all - you’re all just - heathens! Heathens, I say! I’m taking my company elsewhere!

EDDIE: Mr. Frankly…

JULIE: [overlapping, following] Aw, c’mon Frank!

[the door jingles. Julie and Frank’s hushed arguing in the doorway underlies the dialogue]

HOWDY: It sounds like I missed quite the context! Mind filling me in?

BARNABY: That was pretty much it; a real potato potahto argument.

HOWDY: If you say so, Barn. Speaking of potahtos-

[the background argument abruptly cuts off, the door jingles again as it's closed]

FRANK: [rapidly rejoining the group] Hold it! You don’t really say potahto, do you?

BARNABY: [under breath] Here we go again…

SALLY: [deeply amused] Where on Earth did you pick up such a butchered pronunciation? I must have missed the sign on my tour down from the heavens.

EDDIE: [baffled, underlying the dialogue] I’ve never heard anyone say it that way.

JULIE: Oh! Is it a joke? Like, Barnaby says potato-potahto, and then you jokingly say potahto to make us laugh?

HOWDY: It’s not a joke. That’s how it’s said.

FRANK: [genuinely disturbed] No - no one says that. It’s potato.

HOWDY: Well I say potahto, thank you very much! And if you ever want one from my store again, you’d do well to accept that.

[Various grumbles of reluctant acceptance]

HOWDY: Good. Now, can I get any of you a refreshing drink after such a squall? You must be parched!

WALLY: I wouldn’t mind a glass of mulk.

[Horrified silence. A pin drop would be deafening]

[Sudden uproarious and overlapping argument]

#consider this a low budget dollar store fanfic #didnt want to write an actual fic so Just The Dialogue Works Fine #anyway ive never tried to write a script-adjacent Anything so have mercy on me #i dont know what im doing ever! im having fun anyways!#and for the record! im team carmul #well all pronunciations are valid in my book but i say carmul #always have always will dont know why dont know how #my parents tried to make me say it 'caramel' growing up and uhhh No <3 #its fuckin carmul to me. To Me.#i dont say potahto tho. who the fuck does that who isnt a 50s mob boss in jersey #if a 50s mob boss in jersey is reading this: you'll never catch me alive #absolutely unprompted #welcome home #hmmm i should have a writing tag at this point #yk what ill just reuse - wait no i cant reuse the one from my dc sideblog #oh fuck it we'll stay on theme #snippets from the bog #yeah this little writing thing has been in my docs for like.#checking my nonexistent watch here. mmmmmmdont know. a while #and im slightly terrified to post!#its one thing posting art - posting any sort of writing is like breaking your ribs open with a crab cracker #and saying Hi! Have A Taste! I Hope My Viscera Isn't Completely Disgusting!#my god i hope they're at least acceptably in character. im trying im trying #i hope this gives someone a laugh!#or at least a hearty Chortle #or... blowing air through your nose in amusement. yes

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tequiilasunriise · 11 months

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Okay but the emphasis on Ada being axed in the abdomen specifically?

My current headcanon fer her death is that Ada was a maid who had an affair with a rich man she worked fer and fell horrendously in love with this man who likely just saw her as a pretty toy to enjoy on the side. At one point, Richboy tries to break if off with her, and Ada persists because she so wholly believes what they have is real and special meanwhile Richboy is just tryna get rid of her before this scandal gets out to the public.

tw: woah this angst got a little dark and lowkey spiraled into a minific

Ada follows her ‘lover’ into the woods where he she knows he likes to chop wood to destress, and when she finds him she starts begging him to take her back because they’re oh so in love you can’t you see? He tries to push her away, but Ada screams out, “You, you can’t leave me!”

“Ada, for the last time, leave me alone-“

“I’M WITH CHILD! IT’S YOURS!”

A stray wind rustles fallen foliage in the distance, the silence that has befallen the pair so heavy that the man could faintly count each individual leaf. Even as he stands stunned and speechless outwardly, from within a thunderous hammering of his heart begins to stir.

“… what?”

“I am going to bear your child! Please, can’t you see? You can’t leave me now!”

Shaking his head, the drumbeat man’s heart continues to bang against his eardrums louder and louder. It’s as if the bloodied thing was trying to break out of his ribcage and run away shrieking.

“No, n-no it can not be.”

“It can, it can,” wide green eyes stare up at him with a frenzied gleam, the maid’s broad smile stretching across her features like a slash, “It’s yours, you know I would never touch another.”

Ada steps forward, clinging onto the arm of her one and only. The man tries to take a step back and dodge her hands, but it’s already too late, the maid’s fingers frantically dig deep into the flesh of his arm and pull him close.

“Ada- Ada st-stop, stop touching me-“

“This is fate!” She crows desperately, completely ignoring his plea, her grip tightening on the man who gave her light.

“A-Ada! Let go!”

“No, I can’t! This child is a sign of our lov- AAAARRGHHHHH!”

Her backside slams onto the forest floor beneath her, but the bruises that shall surely form on her back holds not even a candlelight to the wretched, searing pain races from her stomach. Ada’s shaky hands reach up and-

Oh.

Oh, she’s bleeding.

Above her, the love of her life breathes unevenly, the axe clutched in his fist stained with a cruel, cruel crimson.

The immense pain rushing from her stomach is nearly enough to rob her of words completely, yet even this physical anguish can not hold back the aching in her betrayed soul.

“B-but,” she barely chokes out, hot tears streaming from her eyes, “But why?”

“Because you gave me no choice.”

Pov Ada is crumpled on the forest floor bleeding out and STILL girly doesn’t even try to get up and call for help.

The man above her runs his free hand through his hair, disbelief and desperation laced in his every movement. His voice, once so strong and sure, now tremors as the realization of what he has done settles deep into the marrow of his bones.

“Do you understand now, you worthless fool? Do you understand?”

Ada can only shake her head. Even now, even here where she is very nearly nothing but a corpse to feed the maggots that reside in the dirt beneath her, Ada refuses to believe that this man she has devoted her whole being truly doesn’t feel the same.

“You, you didn’t mean to,” the man bellows in frustration, but Ada continues to push on with a watery smile, “It was just a mistake, I-I made you mad, and you acted out. It’s- it’s alright, I forgive you. I, I still love y-“

“NO!”

Pov when Richboy realizes that nothing he’ll do or say can make Ada stay away from him he ends up chopping her to pieces and hiding her body in the swamp where other animals have long since become carcasses, her shrieks of agony a quick yet haunting melody that echoes against the silent trees forced to witness such a brutal end to life.

Andddd THAT’S how I headcanon why Ada’s spectre form is a screaming banshee with cut up limbs stained in dirt and decorated in forest animal skeletons :DD

#me when my writing spirals into a minific but i cant be bothered to flesh it out into a more developed more detailed fic sorry yall #ur boy is just too lazy fer that rn anfmwkfmwk #like her backstory is so fucken tragic from the panels we’ve seen but what if i just filled in the blanks and made it WORSE???#ur welcome nevermore fandom <33333 #ada willing to instantly forgive Richboy after he axes her may seem too much but i meannnn #the way failgirl still tried to chase after Prospero after he exploded on her? mmmmmm yeah no yeah girly is just so desperate n delusional #nevermore webtoon #ada nevermore

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leapdayowo · 2 months

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Redstone and Skulk OC time :3

Thought I’d turn my persona into a rns oc and give them a helsmet :3 I basically looked at my play style in Minecraft and took a few things from my own life and combined them to create these two! Short version about them below and a little story of their origins under that:

short version:

-Leapday_art (short version Leapday, she/he/they, the player) is afraid of losing important things in their life. He is very cautious about doing anything that could result in him dying and loosing everything in his inventory (sleeps through the night everytime to avoid monsters, barely visits the nether, strip mines, etc) +the cats next to Leapday are two of my darling kitties who unfortunately passed away irl, their names are Toby (left) and Toes (right)

-Nightfall_collections (short version Nightfall, all pronouns, the helsmet) was created from Leapday’s extreme fear of losing valuables and her grief from having lost valuables too many times. Xyr driving goal is to collect and preserve everything that xe can and to make sure there is always at least one copy

-other things about Nightfall: she is a magma cube hybrid while Leapday is a ??? hybrid player (if you read the story below this may make more sense👀). Nightfall can split into smaller duplicates which allows them to be in more places at once and thus more productive in their goal. She uses her goop-like body to write reminders on her clothes, then re-absorbs the goop later

-I think Nightfall would find himself as an organizer between lots of different parties/people in Hels due to being so dedicated to his goal + only being dedicated to this goal (his alignment is probably chaotic good because he’s loyal to his own goals and not to other people or outside rules. He does not take bribes or backstab). Also, Nightfall does not need to have possession of everything, but xe is trying to keep tabs on where everything that exist is at(this makes xem the go-to person for trying to obtain something in particular)

-I think Nightfall would become a sponsor (if that’s the right word?) for the Order of Remembrance because she greatly admires the work they do to preserve Hels’ history. She would also love Zedaph’s hall of all and definitely tries to work with private collectors to protect (and document/track) what they have (and she will keep what she knows a secret if it means protecting valuable things)

-Nightfall does not care about thieves unless they steal one of a kind things

-the doodles below were my earlier concepts, so Nightfall has green eyes before I realized it’s much more fitting for xem to have orange eyes

okay, okay, story time (because I realized the ‘short’ version was getting very extensive):

Maybe it had started in the very first world she spawned in. A brilliant blue sky that stretched over jagged, looming cliffs with forests scattered underneath. Trickling waterfalls and bubbling lava pits here and there. The natural beauty of the world left Leapday in awe and eager to explore what other wonders lay beyond the horizon.

It must have started with the first tree she broke, a squat little oak, one of hundreds in the forest. When the leaves of that little oak had all fallen, saplings littered the grassy floor. She should’ve been excited, feel triumphant even by taking down the tree, after all it’s how the journey had to start. Except, all that Leapday could see was the awkward gap in the canopy from the absence of the little oak. It felt like an itch unscratched, nagging and uncomfortable. Well that wouldn’t do.

They scooped up all the saplings littering the floor and planted one in the same dirt plot the little oak was uprooted from. Then they planted a few more just for good measure. The unease lingered, but planting the saplings felt good. It felt right. Now their adventure could truly begin!

——

In this world, Leapday’s only companions were the pigs and sheep that he passed on his journey, though he would argue, if there were someone to argue with, that the world itself brought him company enough. That the days and nights passing was a conversation between the universe and Leapday, and thus a consistent companion. And what gifts did the universe provide for him to find! Rushing rivers that fed into powerful oceans, plenty of trees to sleep in and collect, and mountains to climb with the best views of the sunset. Never a dull moment for him as there was always something new to experience and see.

However, despite all its gifts, the universe was slow to explain the finer mechanics of the world, such as health to Leapday. A week of traversing through thick forests and steep cliffs left them battered and bruised. They learned how to gauge the distance of a drop and how to place blocks to minimize the pain in their ankles from falls. A similar pain gnawed from the inside of their stomach, which they discovered was briefly satiated by devouring the apples that fell from the trees.

During one climb up a particularly harrowing cliff, Leapday learned about the unforgiving weight of sand by placing it under her feet in order to reach the next ledge. The block had crumbled in a near instant, sending her plummeting towards the ground. Instead of hitting the hard rocks below, she splashed into a stream from a nearby waterfall. When she had dragged herself onto land and her heart had steadied to a more familiar pace, she let out a fit of bewildered laughter that overwhelmed the panic from moments ago. She knew falls much shorter than this one could take days to recover from, so what kind of pain would she be in if she hadn’t gotten lucky and fallen in the stream? Something cold ran through her and sank to the pit of her stomach. Dread of what could have been, what could still be if she wasn’t more careful. She resolved to never find out what would happen. How unfortunate that her next fall would be into a pit of lava, the very one she had been camping at throughout the nights.

He was being careful, more so than he had been for the first week in this world anyways. That didn’t seem to matter because he had still slipped when placing the block before him and fallen. It was his first respawn, and it introduced him to a few new things like a punch to the face. The first revelation was the agony of burning to death, and death itself. He curled into himself, crying at the phantom feeling of the lava eating at his flesh. The intense heat and how the lava had trapped him in place and burned. It was a twisted version of the warmth of the sun, which was shining down on him and in comparison felt as cool as the air in caves. The second realization came slowly as the memory of fire ebbed. Their knuckles no longer popped and their joints no longer ached. The tightness in their muscles had vanished, leaving softer tissue on the bone and the emptiness in their stomach no longer hurt. They felt new and full of energy, ready to begin their journey again. How strange they had forgotten what this felt like. White scars from their oldest injuries and freckles from sun touched skin still littered their body. They had died, but now were in perfect health again. Leapday took in her surroundings, her face lighting up with delight at the sight of a familiar oak tree. It had grown into quite the study tree since the start of her adventure. Soon after her reunion, Leapday discovered her now empty inventory when she reached for blocks to place in order to climb the canopy. The absence of stacks of logs, dirt, and sand had her racing towards the lava pit before her mind could catch up. Panic pushed her feet to run faster and dodge every obstacle. She ignored nicks from branches in her way and the sting of sharp rocks on her bare feet. The timer was ticking down. Her items would be gone- she just had to- if she wasn’t fast enough-

She burst through the tree line and was greeted by the familiar heavy heat of the lava pit. The sight of it made her recoil out of fear of falling back in even from many blocks away. On shaky legs, she circled the perimeter and searched for her items. The timer was still ticking, but they were nowhere to be seen! She crept as close as she dared to the lava and swept her eyes across the surface of the pool. Then she darted into the surrounding trees looking high and low.

Nothing.

No logs. No saplings or dirt or anything!

This was their third lesson. You lose items after death, and lava destroys those items.

Don’t die, especially not in lava, and don’t lose your items.

Now they had to start over, and this time not dying proved to be harder than expected. More falls and similar accidents happened. Zombies began appearing, persistent in their pursuit of Leapday’s flesh. Then skeletons, creepers, and spiders appeared and introduced many more ways one could die. The pain from the deaths hurt, but they became mundane as weeks turned to months. Loosing items became more painful and frightening when Leapday discovered crafting. More time and resources were needed to start over after dying with crafted items, so they took to the world underground. They followed their instinct to craft pickaxes and torches, to chip away at the stone in search of more sturdy materials. They crafted their first stone pickaxe and found it to be superior to the wooden one.

Maybe it truly started with that wooden pickaxe. When she crafted the stone tools, the wooden pickaxe sat in her hotbar, still good for half a day’s work but now obsolete. It had served her well to progress her journey, a necessary step, but it felt wrong to simply set it aside. It felt like the gap in the canopy all over again, but she very well couldn’t plant the pickaxe in the ground and solve her unease. Not sure what else to do, she attached it to her hip and went on with her day. She wouldn’t destroy it or toss it, she would simply carry it with her until she found what she needed to do with it next. It became her new companion (it was her first crafted tool. It was the first and therefore the only one that would ever exist).

Now equipped with wood and stone blocks, Leapday built their base over their mine. The wooden pickaxe found its place over the doorway leading outside, marking the build as their home. It felt right, so they continued their expansions. Farms were planted along a nearby river and fences placed to corral cows and sheep. Torches were the one item they were generous with. They were thrown across their property liberally since their light would deter creepers spawning too close for comfort.

During a thunderstorm that had picked up abruptly one morning, Leapday poked around at their communicator. It was a lightweight device that had been attached to their forearm since first spawning into the world and never disappeared after dying. After lots of fiddling with the different menus and buttons on the screen, they came across YouCraft. It was an archive of videos made by other players scattered across the universe, documenting their own worlds and progress! With the storm still crashing down around Leapday’s base, they curled up in bed and began watching the first video that caught their eye. It turned out that he had lots more to learn about the universe! After waiting out the storm, and then the night, by watching these videos, he learned about other biomes and blocks still left to discover as well as potions, enchanting, and other dimensions! A dragon was where this journey led for most players, though some took their time getting to it. Above all, he realized he needed diamonds. Diamonds were what every player sought due to their strength, but they were rare and dangerous to collect being so deep underground. They were needed to further Leapday’s journey however, so collecting them became his top goal. Quickly he learned how impossible achieving this goal would be. Well, it seemed impossible after spending days underground chipping at the cold stone and coming up empty. Strange echoes rang through the tunnels and more than a few times paranoia of something (or someone. He had heard the legends of Herobrine) sneaking up on him was enough to make him hole up for hours. Grey, grey stone that went on for miles. Grey cobblestone trailed behind him when his inventory filled. Leapday found other minerals, but the sparkling teal of diamonds still lay buried elsewhere. He mined for so long he began to doubt that the rare mineral even generated in this world. That only grey existed. That was until he broke away the next layer of stone before him and found himself staring uncomprehending at the bits of teal poking through stone. Uncontainable joy broke through his shock like sunlight through parting storm clouds. They were real! Diamonds were real and right in front of him! Invigorated with new energy, Leapday got to work extracting the diamonds just as they had seen others do. The amount paled in comparison to the stacks other players had, but in that moment he didn’t care. It was enough to have found them and confirm they even existed in this world. That weeks of sore arms digging at indifferent stone and unsteady gravel caches falling finally amounted to their new prized possession.

By the time he arrived back at his base, the novelty of finding diamonds began to wear off. He had to admit it was a measly amount. Just barely enough for a diamond pickaxe. What good would a stronger pickaxe be with no enchantments or replacements for when it broke? It had taken so long to find just a few diamonds what were the chances of finding more? No, they wouldn’t craft anything with the rare mineral until they had enough for spares and back ups. So back to the mines they went, and excruciatingly slow they found more, and continued to reason that crafting them was a poor decision. What if an accident happened and they couldn’t get back to their stuff? If they were swallowed by a pit of lava? So much time would be spent only to be wasted. Almost like their thoughts and fears had manifested it, a freak lava incident happened not long after. Leapday had been feeling good that day, so good because their most recent mining trip had yielded 13 diamonds and another cluster just across a lava lake. As they bridged across the lake, plans of finally crafting their collection of diamonds began to form making them giddy. It was the type of giddy that made any obstacle feel like child’s play and beyond consequence. That they finally could start progressing on their journey once more. It was enough to distract Leapday from the crunch of gravel under their feet and for their pickaxe to swing off its mark into the unsteady floor. The ground gave way and sent her tumbling into the lava.

She woke up screaming in her bed. Screaming from agony of ghostly flames that ate flesh, and then from loss and frustration. It wasn’t fair! Her luck had just turned up for the best and now all of it was gone! Every plan to use the diamonds tossed out the window and into a burning pit of despair. How stupid of her to not notice the gravel! All that time for nothing! She should have called it a day and come up 13 diamonds richer with plenty of levels for enchanting. All her gear and tools and items from mineshafts would still be intact, but no. Her head was too far in the clouds and now it was gone. She hadn’t even had the foresight to mark the cave to return to, so sure of her victory. There would be no hope navigating the twisting and sprawling tunnels below, and even if she tried to go back, the sight of lava would probably be enough to make her hurl. Fat tears began dripping down her face as she cursed and wallowed. They blurred his vision, so with a few steadying breaths and a final gross sniffle, he wiped at his eyes. Then he went to swing his legs over the bed to pick up the pieces of his day and froze. On his hand, both hands actually, were thick black smudges of… of something. What was that? He reached up to his face and traced the wet tear tracks with a clean finger. It too came away covered in the strange goop. An incredulous laugh burst from him, which evolved into hysterical crying. More tears fell from his eyes and he let them. The tangled web of grief in his chest unraveling as he did so, and he felt the last of his energy drain away until-

Sunlight trickled through the curtains and roused Leapday from their sleep. Birds were chirping and the familiar sounds of the animals grazing and leaves rustling cradled their mind while the events of the previous day trickled back to them. They felt heavy and gross. Their eyes crusty and mouth dry as a desert were a sure sign of their emotional distress. Disappointment felt like stones being dropped on them when they pulled up their empty inventory. It really was all gone. They let their head flop back onto their pillow and took a steadying breath, trying to recount the reasons they should get out of bed. Maybe they would stick to the joys of the world above ground for a month or two. Take up weaving or painting. They had plenty of resources to finally build a barn and an expansion to the house. Maybe they would go with a grassy roof.

Yeah. That could be alright. With one final sigh, Leapday pushed themself up off their bed and dragged themself over to their cauldron to clean up. They could see from their reflection that only a few faint smudges remained on their face, which they gently wiped away. Crying black goop was probably not normal now that their mind was more stable to think it over. Or maybe it was normal? It had never happened before, but the players on YouCraft all had their own quirks that Lepaday lacked, so maybe it was normal for them?

It turned out the inky tears were a new normal. From that incident onward, whenever they experienced a great sense of loss the strange tears formed and sank into the ground. They appeared when Leapday lost their first wolf companion and when they accidentally deleted a creative world full of builds of an ambitious project.

Meanwhile…

in another world…

In Hels, black goop bubbled to the surface of a sea of lava. From a distance, the surface seemed its usual hungry self, shifting and popping as it patiently waited for Hels and its inhabitants to finally crumble in. The goop was not consumed by its hunger however. It stretched towards the netherrack shore like a snake in water. Once it had gathered all of itself onto more solid ground, it sat and waited for more of itself to arrive, bouncing and bubbling over the terrain in the meantime. They could only wait so long however, after all, there was much to collect and preserve and too little time to do so.

And it’s finished! Whew, I don’t typically write, so this was a lot to work on amidst all my finals projects (totally worth it tho! It was great practice). I wasn’t planning on writing so much about leapday, but then I realized the interesting potential of writing about players when they’re new to the world. If they are akin to gods, they still enter the world with a lot to learn. The goop at the end is Nightfall, who then went on to travel Hels and collect as many blocks and items as xe could before xe came across the city Evil X established. At first they were incredibly overwhelmed by the amount of stuff to preserve in the city and mostly stuck to collecting free scraps and garbage. It probably did something to gain the attention of a member of the Order of Remembrance, who taught Nightfall about their goals and a few things about how society/Hels worked. From there, Nightfall set off to establish a massive collection and documentation of anything and everything, working with people in the process but also quite an eccentric personality that can be quite a hermit when buried in paperwork (not many people are willing to do paperwork as diligently as Nightfall)

Also, YouCraft is YouTube in the Minecraft world :P I felt I needed to separate it from our version of mcyt because in this universe the characters are real and making videos about their lives rather than people playing a video game (at least that’s how I’m headcanoning it)

thank you @silverskye13 for providing some more lore about Hels and the Order of Remembrance (as well as Redstone and Skulk as a whole <3) as well as inspiring me to keep trying to improve my writing and thank you to @/yayforocs for inspiring me to finally make my own rns OCs and this post :3

#If I had a nickel for every time I designed a goopy character that has that ‘tism stare I’d have two nickels #which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice #Also I’m not familiar with using neopronouns but wanted to try so hopefully the usage is correct #And even though I use multiple pronouns for myself I’m still not sure how to use multiple pronouns in writing so hopefully that’s okay #So yeah that’s leapday and nightfall :) I’m not sure if I have any more plans to work on stuff about these two #probably just some drawings but I feel satisfied with this #I don’t want to insert nightfall into hels with a bunch of lore that might contradict what’s in rns #Wowza look at you! You read this far why thank you :3 here is a super secret item that will aid you in your time of greatest need #*hands over something vaguely shaped and seems possibly tangible if you look at it from the corner of your eye*#redstone and skulk #my ocs #my art #traditional art #watercolor #I tried to find all the typos but it is late and I would like to post this

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orcelito · 1 year

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i've seen ppl talking about Meryl & how little we know about her family, but the geo-plant arc of trigun chapters 10-12 gives us some really useful pieces of info, i think

first, we see her thinking of herself as Cold Blooded, just like the dude that wanted Badwick to kill his own parents

[ID: Meryl stands with her gun drawn and a troubled expression on her face as she thinks to herself, "Exactly as you described him... the cold-blooded type..." In the next panel, she closes her eyes and wonders, "Am I really... any different?" End ID]

at the start of this arc, Milly wrote one of her massive letters to her family, while Meryl mentioned not knowing what she would write to hers. then we see Milly get PISSED at Badwick after she learns he threatened his parents at gunpoint, which leads to this page:

[ID: Meryl, held back by Milly, tells her, "Milly... I envy you... My father would have wanted me to get justifiably angry at a person who points a gun at his parents. That is an important thing." She flashes back to the moment in the chapter before where Milly is attempting to punch the son, Badwick. Milly calls in concern, "Ma'am?" Meryl continues, "But I... I just stood there and took it all in without even budging. I am such a cold person. I chose this path of blood and tears without thinking about the rest of my life. All I can see is what is right in front of me." The page shows the face of the father, dressed in basic battle gear, who is watching silently. Now in tears, Meryl laments, "Why could I not see... that when I closed myself off to him, something was wrong? I..." In the last panel, Milly stares down at Meryl in surprise as Meryl slaps her own cheeks and exclaims, "No... Nevermind!" End ID]

this entire situation is obviously striking something in Meryl's heart. some kind of insecurity she has about her distant relationship with her own parents. she shakes herself out of it, determined to not fall into a funk, and then jumps into defense of the land.

after the battle's over & the father's fallen to his ass, we see these pages:

[ID: In the first page, the father, off screen, tells Meryl and Milly, "There are no words to express how thankful I am for your help." Meryl replies with a smile, "Ah. There's no need." The father goes on to tell her, "Ms. Meryl... I know it was rude of me, but I overheard your conversation earlier. Having raised that rebellious son, I don't know if I have the right thing to say, but... All people are different, but the bonds between parents and children are inseparable. It is a great burden, but also the most precious thing in the world..." In the second page, the father concludes, "... Choose your own path, and walk it with confidence. All of life... is connected. You must live your own life, and your parents will love through you." As he speaks, we see Meryl listening to him with a surprised expression. End ID]

this entire arc feels like a metaphor for Meryl's own situation. after these pages, we see Badwick turning in the deed, then finding out that his parents were entrusting the property to him after all. he's the problem son, someone who separated himself from his parents due to his disagreements with them (likely stemming from his dead younger brother). yet at the end of the day, his parents still love him and entrusted their life's work to him.

Meryl sees all this go down, hears these words, and it touches something in her heart. so we see her go from talking about writing to her family like this in chapter 10:

[ID: A single panel of Meryl with her eyes closed and a peaceful expression on her face. She tells Milly, "That would be the normal thing to do... especially when I've been away from home for so long. But I don't know what to write beyond 'it's dry'..." End ID]

to this bit at the end of chapter 12:

[ID: Meryl approaches a mailbox with luggage in hand. She slips a letter inside, then sighs with a smile. Milly yells, "Maa'aam! What are you doing?! We're already late!" To which Meryl replies, "Ok! Ok! Ok! I'm coming!" End ID]

the experience was enough for her to accept that she might not be the closest with her parents (or just father? considering she only ever mentions a father in this all), but it's still worth reaching out even if she doesn't have much to say.

this arc is the most we see about Meryl's backstory in the manga, but I think we can draw a few things from it. we have a definite mention of a father, but no others. no mention of siblings or any other family members. she's distant from her father, too busy following her heart & goals, but she doesn't have a bad relationship with him. just Distant. she feels disconnected from him, even Cold, for her focus on her work & the practicalities in front of her. but even with that disconnect, she still cares enough about him to feel guilty when she realizes she's been doing this.

and then considering later, when we see the flashback of a man giving her the gun... i'd assumed that was possibly a senior at her work (probably tristamp giving me that perception, from Roberto), but keeping all the rest of this in mind... it really could have been her father.

i went looking to try to find that part. did not find that one exactly, but i DID find this one from trimax chapter 34:

[ID: A nearly bald man with a kind face and what appear to be shooting ear muffs around his neck tells Meryl, "Consider guns delicate. Women, most of all, should make use of them. One shot will level the playing field between you and a big, strong man." End ID]

if this is indeed her father, it would explain why she knows how to shoot like she does. perhaps her father taught her as she was growing up out of the wish to help her protect herself. maybe they weren't incredibly close, but he still clearly cared about her & wanted what was best for her and her safety. the kind of father that's content to let her do whatever her heart wishes, since her happiness is his happiness.

and then chapter 12 ends with this page:

[ID: A black framed page with a single panel at the center. The panel shows Meryl from behind, running with her luggage in hand. The text boxes to the sides state, "All of life is connected by a river... And the beginning of the river... is now." End ID]

she continues on her own path, not looking back, but she is still connected to the ones in her heart... including her father.

(Manga panels referenced from @trigun-manga-overhaul !)

#speculation nation #trigun #meryl stryfe #fanny's trigun analysis #fanny reads trigun #oh god this got longer than i was planning on it being #also writing IDs is a little hard lol. tried my best tho #but YEAH we really know so little about meryl and her home life. but this really does give us some great context for it #im picking at fucking crumbs here lmfao but they're still pretty solid crumbs #this. is probably what i'm gonna be running under for my own ideas of meryl's backstory #single child raised by a single father. a gunman who taught her how to shoot so she could protect herself #a slightly distant relationship. but not a negative one.#someone she still loves and knows will be there for her should she ever decide to return #someone who wouldnt ever even dream of trying to stifle her. he wants her to follow her dreams.#it's... actually kinda really sweet lol.#meryl #<- for my own tagging purposes lol #long post/

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skyloftian-nutcase · 7 months

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@kikker-oma @gryphonlover @smilesrobotlover @silvrash-797 @ladye-zelda & anyone else who wanted to see Abel and LU Wild, here you go :)

Link sat beside him, watching him silently for a moment. Abel shifted, uncertain what to say or do, but the boy finally asked, "Why did you take watch?"

"It's a shared responsibility among your group, is it not?" Abel replied carefully before sincerely adding, "Besides, I don't sleep well."

The Hero of the Wilds hummed, looking contemplatively back at the fire. "I don't either."

Abel felt his chest clench, seeing the distant, somber pain in the boy's eyes. "I imagine not."

This caught Link's attention, and he looked back at Abel, brow furrowing slightly. "I should know you, shouldn't I?"

Abel watched him, startled. Link was far more expressive now than he remembered - it reminded him of when the boy was just a child. But his childlike wonder was tempered, mellowed by indescribable hurt and melancholy and loss, intertwining to create someone who was looking at him with pained desperation and dread, someone who was steeling himself for something.

In that moment, Abel realized, it probably was better that Link didn't remember. Better to live in the moment than have the memory of the past drag him into oblivion.

Which meant he needn't tell him the truth.

Abel schooled his expression into a neutral one, one that his son had mirrored so, so long ago. "We've never met, Hero."

Link watched him, eyes widening, and for a moment Abel thought it was because he was surprised at his response. But something else was wrong; the teenager's face was frozen, eyes seeming to dull, looking somewhere beyond Abel. The former knight turned to look behind him, wondering if perhaps Link had seen a beast, but there was nothing there. When he looked back at the boy, he hadn't moved.

"Link?" he prompted, putting a hesitant hand on the champion's shoulder. When the boy remained frozen, he shook him a little. "Link."

Anxiety wormed through his gut - what was wrong? This was like the boy had been frozen by a spell or something! He shook him again, harder, saying his name loudly. He heard movement as his tone roused someone, and the Hero of Twilight came into view.

"What's wrong?" the Ordonian Hero asked.

"He just—he isn't reacting to me at all," Abel explained, snapping his fingers in front Link's face. The boy didn't even blink.

The other hero hummed, seeming to relax. "A memory, probably. They come to him like this, it's... weird. But he'll snap out of it."

A memory? What memory? Did the boy just randomly... zone out like this? Wasn't that dangerous? What if he did that in a battle—

Link blinked, finally seeming to come back to life, but he immediately looked pale and ill. He was trembling, eyes filled with tears, breaths coming in gasps as he looked at Abel with horror.

Abel felt his blood run cold.

"Champion," the Hero of Twilight prompted, moving to put a hand on his shoulder.

Link rose abruptly, his eyes never leaving Abel's, before he turned on his heel and walked away swiftly.

Abel rose automatically to go after him, worry eating away at him. He'd caused this, he knew that. His heart fluttered with guilt, both at instigating this and at desperately hoping and wishing it would help as well, when he knew that it absolutely wouldn't. He wasn't good at processing emotions or handling others having an emotional crisis - that had always been his wife's gift. With her gone...

Goddess, he just wanted his family back.

Shaking his head and swallowing the lump in his throat, Abel focused on finding Link, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Stay here," the past hero advised. "I'll get him."

Fire burned its way from his gut to his heart, and spilled out of his mouth. "Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, boy."

Chosen Heroes be damned. Just because these children had saved their own Hyrules didn't mean they could order him around like this. It wasn't like destiny had smiled upon his world.

The young man's face hardened, grip tightening. "He's clearly upset. I'm not letting you get near him right now. Give him some space. I'll go to him."

The anger intensified, mixing with pain at the thought that the Hero was right - he had no right to the teenager, he didn't know him. It made him snap all the more. "I need to make sure he's okay, and you won't stop me from doing that."

"I will make sure he's okay," the Hero replied curtly. "Your concern is appreciated. But he's my brother of the sword. You are just a guest here."

Abel finally lost all patience, stepping forward into the man's personal space and hissing, "He's my son."

The young man's harsh expression immediately broke, eyes blowing wide with shock, grip loosening enough that Abel knocked him out of his way and stormed into the forest to follow Link.

It was easy to find him, given the hiccups and sobs that he heard. Link was sitting by a little stream, curled in on himself and shaking. He heard Abel's approach, immediately turning and looking at him, too devastated to bother putting up a fight anymore.

Abel wanted to apologize a hundred times over for hurting him like this. He wanted to apologize for losing him like this. He wanted to dig a sword into his own chest and gouge his own eyes out and never see his boy look like this again.

Instead, he slowly knelt in front of him and gently pulled him into a hug.

#writing #abel #lu wild #Wild: I should remember you shouldn’t I #Abel immediately making the same neutral face Wild made in the past and therefore 100% giving himself away: Nope #Wild’s brain: Ah yeah I know that face because I EMULATED IT FOR OVER A YEAR #oh well he tried #Wonder what Wild remembered anyway #I’ll just see myself out now #Smiles I hid this because it felt like it mirrored yours too much but I just had to write it #Your whumptober was so great it was inspiring ❤️

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fumifooms · 14 days

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I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

#My only nitpick is that canonically they rarely hang out after work and you wrote that they did it often but that’s lit the only thing #Chilchuck tims #dunmeshi memes #ask #I have friends big fans of the timeline where Chil is one of those who miraculously live to 70 #Marcille is always bracing herself year after year to lose him and it just becomes anticlimatic #Chilchuck the old fart grumpy husband who REFUSES to die #I wanna write pre-canon marchil as well eventually…#Anyways i hope u don’t mind me putting ur fic on blast!! I liked it a lot and again i couldn’t be happier i made you like the ship #Or even write fic like omg… i hope you make more!! You got them down real well #Thank you for the ask and thank you for the content!!! Made my day. Bith when u sent it and when i rea the fic i was having a bad day #Like his dad WOULD say that. ‘I heard you crying what the fuck’ aughh they’re so so compelling pre canon oh my god #I looove ‘platonic or romantic you choose’ fics and tackling alcoholic Chil is an instant like. The 1 flirty line was a nice treat #Marchil union is brainstorming Coraline AUs btw they all go so hard I’m looking forward to that wave #Tried to keep this a lil more composed than the ao3 comments I make lmaoo but yeah know that i’d do rabid keysmashes about it #‘You’re easy to love despite it all/even if you try to make it hard to’ is such a core of marchil

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houseofborgia · 9 months

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the borgias is my favorite show and i think it's the best show ever made and all. however, there's just this one aspect that is genuinely hilarious to me and i mostly criticize the show for. the writers suddenly trying to make the viewers massively despise juan by turning against him and disingenuously writing him in his final moments so the watchers won't miss him or sympathize with him by making him a walking danger as an excuse to kill him off and prop up cesare's character. they wanted the audience to root for cesare at juan's expense and make his death seem necessary lol. they truly thought they served with this one, like maybe juan's character was shamefully abandoned by the writers (as well as his family except for rodrigo) but david oakes had many people sold with the way he played him to perfection, improvising and making juan remarkable, tremendous, and humane. the show is obviously a classic masterpiece, but in my opinion about the juan part, simply rushing the writing of a tragic dying character on a show for weak reasons is pure disrespect.

#i love the way juan was written off is something that didn't sit right with the rest of the cast either. they know david was done dirty #not to mention the corny ass hashtag they tried to trend to celebrate juan's death lmaoo 2012 was really something #it's why françois and david GET ITTTT #their insights literally go against what the writers were trying to make us Believe LOL françois and david were like No ❤️#you know when the actors get the characters more than the writers themselves because of how much they lived in them? YEAH!!!#they tried so badly to paint cesare gutting juan and throwing him off a bridge as “heroic” then BAM here comes king arnaud!!#calling cesare an envious monster SJSJJSNSEJ #françois literally admitted that he had the writing on his character's side meanwhile david's character was thrown under the bus #as if it wasn't enough for them to villainize juan by giving him all historical!cesare's negative characteristics !!#that being said. like or hate juan...his presence was truly missed in season 3 lol #juan borgia #cesare borgia #françois arnaud #the borgias #period dramas #period drama #neil jordan #david oakes #borgias #text post

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tricoufamily · 5 months

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visiting the hometown

(want everyone to know this edit came to me in a dream and i changed the lore just to do it)

#in the dream i was like editing it but i was also there? it was weird. it started as a dream about lawson in a zombie apocalypse #ok important tags first so i can write an essay #ts4 #ts4 render #ts4 edit #the sims 4 #beckett #lawson #blood sports #but yeah if you haven't been here before beckett and lawson never knew each other as kids #if they did it would be a butterfly effect and mess w a bunch of other plot details. so i decided to work around it #also if ur new they've had a friends with benefits thing going on for a long time but lawson is in love with him. beck doesn't know #originally beckett was put in foster care as a baby bc of neglect and was bounced around foster homes for years #he was a troubled child always getting in fights a kleptomaniac undiagnosed autism etc etc foster families tried and just didn't want him #then when he was around 12 a very nice old lady named cora got him and they ended up forming a great bond they loved each other #she was going to adopt him then when beckett was around 15 or 16 his birth mother reentered the picture and wanted him back #it started a really nasty legal battle and cora died. we can't say for sure it was the stress of this fight but beckett certainly thinks so #anyway he did go back with his birth mother and things got really bad for him. he dropped out of school started doing worse crimes and so o #but none of that is what even changed #now LAWSON is also from west virigina like beckett. it's a small town lawson was new he had no friends #he was a very clingy possessive child who cried and threw tantrums so much #he met beckett and the rest is history. beckett didn't really mind how lawson acted he didn't really find him annoying like everyone elsedi #besides he didn't have friends either #lawson has wealthy parents they were welcoming to beckett at first if a little apprehensive. then he stole something from their house #and lawson wasn't allowed to hang out with him anymore. but he still did in secret. they still have no idea that beckett's even still aroun #or just how involved lawson is with him and his. activities 😬 they just think he's their good little college boy #in the original beckett moved to Not Gotham City when his mother got him back but in this version lawson is going to college there #and beckett's been distant from him for a while things are awful for him and lawson says hey. what if you gave the city a try. and he did #so really you could say the events of blood sports are all lawson's fault the end

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not-poignant · 8 days

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Hi Pia

Feel free to ignore if this is unwelcome, but have you ever thought about publishing traditionally to sublimate your income and draw in new readers? I know you've self published two books already and that you didn't feel like they did very well, but maybe the experience would be different if someone else was in charge of marketing and all the other business stuff?

Obviously everyone's experience is different but as an author myself who's published both trad and self, traditional publishing has been a completely different experience and has allowed me to focus more on writing because I'm not the one responsible for advertising/marketing/financing anymore.

There are a ton of literary agents nowadays that want to represent diverse and lgbtqia+ fiction, some of them even in Australia.

Websites like Reedsy, AgentQuery and Jerichowriters have extensive directories to find literary agents.

(This is lengthy folks so I'm putting the other two parts (and my response) under a read more! Also putting it under a read more so the anon can skip my response since it's very 'here's all the reasons I can't do this' and they just might not want to read that, lmao)

(continued -> )

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

Obviously most authors, unless they're really prolific, don't get a huge advance (the average is between $1000 - $5000) but getting your foot in the door or on the traditional publishing "ladder' so to speak can have a huge benefit for your serials. Because it gives you more exposure. Plus it's in the agent's best interest to find a publishing house that accepts stories that contain darker themes and negotiate the best deal for you.

For some reason places like Amazon and the like accept and keep up more "dark" books that are traditionally published than they do with self pub ones. Maybe because they have more respect or leniency for publishing houses? I have no idea. But you could use this to your advantage. I think I remember you mentioning that writing novels felt quite isolating to you? But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

You already have a loyal readership and that's very attractive to trad pub houses and agents.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance. It could be just a landing page that says something about you and then has links to your tumblr and patreon where you're more active. That way you increase the chances of getting your serials found by additional readers and also come across looking more "professional". Not that you're not professional now. You are and I admire you greatly, but the unfortunate reality is a lot of people still judge by appearances and some will be more drawn to an author's website than a tumblr page, at least at first. So I think having a simple landing page would open up another door for you to benefit from.

Trad publishing is work but definitely not as much as self publishing, and you can continue on with your serials. Getting an agent can be time consuming but I personally believe the pros outweigh the cons and I also believe that your stories would be a huge treasure to the growing lgbtqia+ market. Seriously there needs to be more!

These are just suggestions and thoughts and like I said before, feel free to ignore. But I know you've mentioned wanting to grow your career in the past and I genuinely believe you can do so with some of these pathways.

Okay, my response. Posting this because firstly I think the suggestions could work very well for other authors reading this! And I hope they take the advice to note, and secondly because I haven't talked about this for a hot minute so let's talk about it again.

So the TL;DR is yes I have considered traditional publishing. I have actually been traditionally published in short stories, poetry, and also had my art published on covers and re: interior illustrations. But my Fae Tales works got soundly rejected when I sent them to publishing houses that were doing open calls for that sort of material. I've never heard back from an agent and I never expect to, heh.

Now for a bit more detail

I have been traditionally published before (it's how I got my writing out there long before I ever wrote serials), and yes, I have approached publishers with my writing since then. In fact Tradewinds was written for the traditional publishing market, and it got soundly rejected, and then shelved. The reasons it was rejected ran the gamut from 'I don't like that these fae eat humans no one is going to relate to these people' (while the editor then went on to publish vampire books idk) to 'There's too much worldbuilding you can't expect readers to keep up with this' to 'Your stories are too long, no one wants to read characters talking all the time.'

Meanwhile in my online serials I was getting feedback like 'my favourite chapters are the ones where the characters just sit in a room and talk' lol.

The traditional publishing world is also not quite as utopian for most authors as you make it seem. I'm friends with a lot of authors who are traditionally published because that's the world I came from, and unless they're solely in KU and doing generic rapid release formula romances, none of them are making that much money. Certainly not enough to live off. It may have been that you were very fortunate, anon, but I know hundreds more traditionally published authors that left trad pub to make money, and I know about 5 in trad pub personally who are making enough to live off of.

Only one of those is really writing what she truly loves to write, and even then, publishing houses have refused to commit to her entire fantasy series (and she's regularly in 'Top 10/20 Women Fantasy Authors in the World' lists) and forced her to finish the series prematurely. Something I never ever have to worry about in self pub.

The reality is that in trad pub these days, you're still in charge of most of your marketing unless you're one of the big earners for the publishing house. In fact I'd be expected to keep even more of a social media and marketing presence than I do now. I don't do almost any of the things you're supposed to do as an author in marketing to be appealing. I don't have a Facebook author account. I don't have an Instagram author account. I don't maintain or regularly send out newsletters (which automatically puts me in the like 0.05% of authors who make money doing this lmao).

I don't know if you ever have looked that closely into what m/m publishing houses expect from most of their authors, but the newsletter swaps, cover releases, review circuits, interview circuits and more are fucking grueling. We're expected to be responsible for our advertising and our marketing to a fairly massive degree. Some traditionally published in m/m still have to pay for their release blitzes out of pocket. These publishing houses, by and large, do not offer advances. You say most authors don't get large advances. I don't think most authors in this arena get offered advances at all unless they're somehow miraculously acquired by a Big 4.

We're expected to have an already established social media presence because of that (that's why it's so appealing to publishers that we have social media presences already, anon, so we can market, they can save money, and we still see only a minimal cut from the royalties).

And you still have to focus on your finances, because publishing houses like Dreamspinner straight up didn't pay a whole bunch of authors for so long they destroyed careers. They still haven't paid some of their authors. And they're still running a business and people still buy their books.

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

This is true if a) they're a big publishing house and not an indie publisher of which most LGBTQIA+ publishing houses are and b) they're willing to use them on you.

The authors that make the most money get the most resources. If they believe you're going to earn back your advance and move thousands or tens of thousands of units per book, then yes, you will get those resources.

I have been told so many times now - even from friends who run publishing houses, including one who works at HarperCollins - that my work will never be mainstream enough to have broad appeal. They literally told me not to keep trying re: trad pub, because that was my dream for a long time. These folks have given me rock solid advice in the past, it's one of the reasons I'm doing so well now via Patreon + Ream. But they were like (paraphrasing) 'you don't write 60-80k romances and you don't want to and that's not your strength anyway, you're multi-genre which makes you hard to market, you write psychological and literary trauma recovery which is hard to market, you write character studies which are hard to market, publishing houses often don't commit to series anymore if the first two don't move units and if they pulled the plug you'd be contractually obliged to never finish that series until your contract was up.' I could go on, but it was like yeah...actually. Fair.

They do, but most publishing houses want very formulaic dark romance which is not what I write.

I have a 300k omegaverse slowburn that still hasn't had any penetrative sex in it, anon. Publishing houses don't want that. They don't expect anyone will wait 4 full length novels to get to literally a single penetrative sex scene.

But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

If I rewrote them to my liking, trad pub wouldn't want them. They'd be too long! I think agents etc. take one look at me and go 'oh god, no thank you!' I'm not an easy sell, by any means.

Plus I'm very e.e about all of that with the knowledge that they then give me only about 10-15% of the royalties on the sales, vs. self-pub where I get around 70%, or subscription where I around 80% of it. When someone subscribes to me, they don't have to worry about 85-90% of their subscription fee going to a publishing house. I don't have to think about how many thousands and thousands of books I'd have to sell to make the same amount that I do now via subscription.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance.

If it was that simple, I'd be doing it. I don't mean this in a facetious way, I mean it in a: I've made a lot of websites, in fact I run one at the moment not connected to my writing (I've been running it for so long it's now in its 20s and can probably has a driver's license). I find it so tedious that I barely remember to check in on it. But forgetting about it means there's always maintenance to keep up with when I get back to it.

Running websites is simpler than it used to be, but it's still not simple. There's hosting and hosting costs, there's server changes, there's back-end maintenance etc. I'm considering it for down the track, but there's a reason I decided to go the route of Patreon over my own site. There are authors (like Christopher Hopper) who actually do subscription through their own domain, but it's a lot of work.

Even placeholder sites are still work. They need updating, details change, story titles changing etc. Maintaining my Patreon + Ream About pages is enough, they're always both a little out of date, lol.

Not that you're not professional now.

Oh no, I mean from a 'traditional publisher looking at me to see what kind of candidate I am' I'm really not though. Like I said, I don't have the newsletter (100 subscribers who get one newsletter a year is not really a newsletter), I don't have the Facebook/Tiktok/Insta/Twitter/Bluesky/Threads accounts, etc. I write multi-genre across multiple steam levels, and I'm allergic to writing serials shorter than 150k. One of my best performing original serials was an 800k contemporary story with no sex in it but a lot of BDSM. It can't be marketed as clean or sweet, it's not high steam, an entire chapter is 'boy saves snail from rain.' Also he was cruel to animals, so not exactly what I'd call a sympathetic main.

And yet that story did so well for me via Patreon + Ream, because people want the kinds of stories that publishing houses generally don't want and I happen to be writing them.

Anon I just literally do not believe an agent would want to represent me. I have 0% belief in that. Not from a self-deprecating angle but from a 'I am not a good bet for the trad market' perspective. From a 'I have so many friends who are trad pubbed authors who stare at me like I'm insane for writing serials as long as I do' perspective. From a 'professionals in the industry have told me it's amazing I'm doing so well in serials because there's no way they'd take a risk on what I'm doing' perspective. From a 'just because it's queer and diverse doesn't mean it hits literally any other thing a trad pub is looking for' perspective. I've been doing this for 10 years. There are agents who represent work similar to mine who know what I'm doing and wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole. They're not missing out on a trick, they know I'm not broad appeal, and they're right.

Also the only way I'd have the energy to manage trad pub is by quitting serials. And honestly, I never found trad pub all that much fun while I was doing it for non-novel stuff. It was fine, and it is nice to have my stuff out there, but it was a ton of admin and a lot of going back and forth between people who really only care about marketing a product, and that's great and what they excel at! But I'm too disabled to turn this job into something crushing just to potentially make more money, I'd rather just quit and go back onto a full Disability Pension. I can't see any way I still get to write the stories I want to write, in the way that I write them, and be remotely appealing to a single reputable trad pub or agent.

Also *gestures to everything in this article*

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on publishing #i appreciate your thoughts anon #and i'm so happy it's working out well for you #and that you're able to live off what you're doing #you are one of the rare outliers in the world of publishing #and i truly wish you all the success in the world #i do think a lot of your advice will go to help a lot of writers who sometimes check in #at my tumblr #but yeah no i don't even write that much 'dark' stuff in the classic sense #of what trad pub wants #right now the publishing world that i'm adjacent to #seems to view me as some kind of oddity #'i don't know how he's making an income off all this stuff that we know would never work for us'#'how odd and strange'#'best leave him alone'#most authors are thankfully not doing what i'm doing #in which case yes they should absolutely consider agent representation #and looking into trad pub #unfortunately i'm not like a CS Pacat #even though she's a role model for me #and when i tried to write for the more traditional market #which was perth shifters #i honestly really struggled

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