#(except that's not really true. I have ideas.)

[luna-azzurra]

Do you have any tips for writing a character who hates their appearance? Like say this character has the ability to look like a normal human but their non-human form is quote on quote "ugly/hideous" (The creature's related to the character have the same issue/The self-hatred is taught by the elders and/or parents from the society the creature belongs to.)

"Conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show" kind of thing. And the parents/elders aren't mean about it, they just know their real appearance isn't appealing.

Human appearance = Confidence, more self-acceptance, more self-love, etc.

Your character could feel stuck between these two identities, on one side, they’ve got their non-human form that’s been labeled as “ugly” or “hideous,” and on the other side, they have their human form, which is praised and makes them feel confident, even if it’s not their real self. It’s like a mask they wear to feel better about themselves, but deep down, there’s still this lingering feeling of “I’m not good enough as I am.”

You can show how this affects their self-esteem and mental state. Every time they look human, they feel a little bit stronger, a little more accepted, but it’s not really them. Maybe they start to rely on the human form so much that they feel lost without it, like they don’t know how to be themselves anymore. That confidence they get when they look human? It’s a bit fake, like wearing an outfit that makes you feel good for a while, but you know once you take it off, all the insecurities come rushing back.

They want to accept their real form, but every time they look at themselves, all they can hear are the voices from their parents and society telling them they’re not good enough, that they need to hide this part of themselves. You can show moments where they’re afraid to let anyone see their true form, even people they care about. They fear rejection, judgment, or that people will think they’re as hideous as they’ve been told their whole life. But, over time, maybe they start to question these ideas. Maybe someone in their life (a friend, a love interest, or even themselves) shows them that their real form isn’t as bad as they’ve been taught to believe. You could even explore little moments where they realize they don’t hate certain parts of their non-human self as much as they thought they did. It’s a slow, difficult process of learning to accept themselves, and it won’t be a quick fix. They might still struggle with the urge to hide behind their human form, but eventually, they start to see that their real self isn’t something they need to conceal or be ashamed of.

Example / The Mirror Scene

The bathroom mirror was fogged up from the hot water, but they could still see the outline of their face. Human face. The one that made them feel like they belonged. A quick wipe of the glass revealed familiar features: smooth skin, symmetrical eyes, a nose that didn’t make anyone flinch. A face they didn’t have to hide.

For a second, they almost smiled. Almost. This face was easier, so much easier, than the real one. The one they kept buried beneath layers of “normal.” With a shaky breath, they glanced at the door, locked, thankfully. No one could see them here. It was safe. It was just them and the mirror. But safety wasn’t comfort, not when the thing they feared most was their own reflection.

The familiar sensation of their skin shifting began, like a wave of pins and needles. Slowly, painfully, the human features faded, replaced by the reality underneath. Their jawline thickened, rough, uneven skin stretching across sharp ridges. The soft eyes they’d once admired in the mirror were now wide and strange, glowing faintly in the dim light.

They hated it. They hated that every time they looked like this, all they could hear was their mom’s voice, calm but full of pity. “You’ll feel better if you just stay in human form. It’s easier.”

Easier. Sure. Except it wasn’t them.

They leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting their real face. “Hideous,” they whispered, like they could get ahead of the insult before someone else could throw it at them. The word hung in the air, suffocating, familiar. They’d heard it a thousand times, from elders, parents, even their friends when they didn’t think anyone was listening.

[signanothername]

In your opinion do you think nightmare would let a human work for him or do you think he prefers only monsters to work under him?

(It's for a character I'm making a mini comic for :) )

But I'd also imagine even then there would be issues regarding the murder time trio, especially considering their hang ups when it comes to them (Chara and frisk ect.)

Ooooohhh

Ok tbh I feel like Nightmare wouldn’t genuinely care whether someone who works for him is human, monster or something completely different

As long as they’re efficient and do their job properly then he’ll be ok with them

I think the true question is whether Nightmare would be willing to recruit anyone at all beyond MTT, considering that Nightmare hates change in his routine

I for one at least, like to believe he didn’t just recruit MTT just because, without any true reason in mind, he made very calculated decisions after careful planning and after weighing his options

So i feel like the true challenge is how to get Nightmare to be willing to have another subordinate under him much more so than what they are

And I feel like, if Nightmare got a human under him, they’d be someone who isn’t Frisk/Chara as to not trigger MTT and chaos ensues

I like to believe MTT might be a tiny bit tense with the prospect of working with a human, but I feel like they wouldn’t get aggressive if they aren’t Chara/Frisk (except for Murder maybe) and even then I think it really depends, as I believe Murder’s first choice is to keep distance from them rather then actually engage with them

Hell, I think MTT in general are like cats, if you include a new recruit (regardless of whether human or not) Nightmare has to introduce them carefully to each other the way you introduce a new cat to another as to not agitate the older cat hxhxhdhhd

Which again, just puts more challenges in the prospect of Nightmare even being willing to include a new subordinate under him at all

So I feel like the exploration of reasons why Nightmare would include a new subordinate is much more important than what kinda subordinate they are

And while i’m a firm believer in the idea that making a deal with Nightmare is like making a deal with the devil himself (basically you’re stuck with that deal for the rest of your life) I never was one to believe that Nightmare would recruite anyone who he makes a deal with under him, but rather, have a use for them in other ways that are still pretty much very stuck with Nightmare cause of it *side eyes my interpretation of Ccino and Nightmare’s relationship*

I can imagine Nightmare also bargaining and settling for temporary work time, basically having someone work for him until he deems the work they needed them for done with in a way that satisfies him

So yes, Nightmare would let humans work for him if it’s actually beneficial to him

[unabashegirl]

Different 8 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hiii, here is a new chapter of Different. I hope you enjoy!

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

if you would like to submit request for the next one shot. leave them here x :)

masterlist

Harry watched her as she slid out of the car. She never really jumped out or stepped off because of her height difference. Her Jeep was too elevated off the ground. He found it adorable. She locked and closed the door before trotting to him and grabbing his hand.

Harry noticed how she pulled on the sleeves of her shirt and how she buttoned up. He could see that she was nervous, and it was a nice change. “Do I look okay?” she whispered as they entered the dorm. “I should have worn makeup,” she said under her breath.

“You look stunning. Stop worrying,” Harry reassured her, nudging her hand away from her hair. “They don’t bite. I promise,” he whispered as he pulled her toward the foyer of the dorm.

“Wait, Harry!” she stopped him, suddenly very concerned and anxious. She wanted to make a good first impression, and Harry had barely spoken about his parents. Therefore, Y/N didn’t have the slightest idea of how to approach them. “What do I say?”

“Just be you.” She inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm her heart rate. Y/N also felt a bit uncomfortable being in the dorm. She felt like it was something prohibited, even though it wasn’t.

“Mum,” Harry called out as they walked up to a small sitting area by the fireplace. The first thing Y/N noticed was how nicely they were both dressed. She could see the resemblance. Y/N could see where Harry had gotten his luscious head of hair, but he definitely had his mother’s eyes.

Harry’s dad got up as soon as he noticed them. He was just as tall as Harry. They looked like printed copies, except he had salt-and-pepper hair.

“This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her as she nervously leaned forward and stretched out a hand.

Harry’s dad cheekily winked at his son, then shifted his attention back to Y/N.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Styles,” she said as soon as he shook her hand.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to your name. We’ve heard lots about you,” he said. “Although, he has been very secretive about you.” Y/N giggled and glanced at Harry for a second. It was true—he had only mentioned very surface-level things about her.

“You are gorgeous,” Mrs. Styles said before anyone else could say something. “Hello,” she breathed, stretching her hand out for Y/N, which she gracefully took without any hesitation.

“Good evening, Mrs. Styles.” Harry stood back and watched the most important women in his life interact with one another.

“Please call me Anne,” she insisted, taking the stress and tension off Y/N. “Now, where is this wonderful café that you keep talking about?”

“It’s just a few blocks away. Is that alright?” Harry threw an arm over his mother’s shoulders as he guided her out of the dorm and toward another exit.

“It’s fine, as long as it has some decent food.” Harry stretched out his other hand for Y/N to take when he noticed that she was quietly drifting behind.

Y/N quietly figured out where he was taking them. It was a cute, cozy café that served all types of food, only a couple of blocks away from school.

“What would you like?” Harry asked her as they finally arrived at the cute coffee shop.

“Coffee, please,” she shyly said as the three stared at her. “Would you like some help?” she asked, slowly rising from her seat.

“No need to,” Harry smiled at her before going up to order.

The family ordered coffee for everyone and a few of everything. They had been traveling most of the day, which was why they were starving.

The conversation naturally started flowing, with Mr. Styles asking Y/N what her parents did for a living, where she lived, and what she was studying. Harry’s mother was too entertained eating a chocolate croissant to interrupt but eventually joined in.

They talked about America and how different it was from England. Mrs. Styles also made sure to openly invite Y/N to England. The conversation eventually drifted to the two women as they took charge, sharing different anecdotes and jokes. Harry and his father sat back, only chiming in here and there.

Harry didn’t mind remaining silent as it gave him the opportunity to watch her and the way she expressed herself. It was mesmerizing how she gesticulated and emphasized her points using her hands.

“I’m sure your parents come to visit all the time. How lucky to live so close to you. I wish I could see my Harry that often,” Mrs. Styles said, tearing up a little. They had just arrived, but she already missed him. Y/N tensed up at the mention of her parents and couldn’t help feeling jealous that Harry had loving parents always willing to travel to see him.

Harry looked up at his mom and slightly shook his head, hinting that parents were a touchy subject for Y/N. Mrs. Styles instantly caught on and quickly moved on.

“This has been lovely, but unfortunately, I have to get going. I have an early class tomorrow,” Y/N apologized, remembering that she still had to make herself some lunch and do laundry.

“Of course! Thank you for joining us, Y/N. I’m so happy to finally meet you,” Mrs. Styles said, pulling her into a hug. “Please come visit.”

“Thank you for having me. I hope to see you both soon, and I hope you enjoy your stay,” Y/N said as she hugged Mr. Styles too.

“I’ll be back in a few,” Harry said to them before following after her. “Hey,” he called out to her and stopped her. “Thank you for coming. You were so sweet.”

“I hope they like me,” she whispered, now nervous to know what impression they had of her.

Harry smiled and kissed her, sending a chill down her back.

“I’m sure they do,” he reassured her, pushing a strand of hair back after it had gone rogue. “Why are you pouting?” Harry tilted his head, waiting for an explanation. He ran his fingers across her untucked lip, holding back his desire to bite it.

Harry chuckled and kissed her softly, taking his time. His hands itched with the desire to touch her.

“I have to go,” she exhaled loudly as she gently pulled away.

“Drive safe,” he called out to her. “Text me when you get home.” She turned and smiled at him before continuing to walk. He waited until she had disappeared before heading back inside. “What do you think?” he asked, sitting down beside his mother.

“She’s really sweet. I like her,” Harry smiled back at his mother. “Is she officially your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Harry lied, not wanting to worry them or let them think that things were complicated.

“Good,” Mr. Styles smiled as they left the café. Harry insisted on accompanying his parents to the hotel before going back to the dorm.

He texted her as soon as he got back to his room, ending the day with a golden brooch.

Thank you for today. I am so lucky to have you. Sweet dreams.

Monday came around like every other day. Harry rushed around his dorm room, trying to get everything ready for class since he had woken up relatively late.

He had lunch with Sarah, who confessed her initial annoyance towards Y/N. Things had changed for her since the weekend.

In the afternoon, Harry had an organic chemistry class on the other side of campus. A class that he had tried his best not to dislike, but it had been impossible lately, especially since the professor always seemed angry and dull.

He sat by the window, which allowed him to get a bit distracted and not fall asleep as easily. As expected, the professor walked in with his permanent frown. He looked like he hated breathing the same air as them. He immediately directed them to their books and handed out a worksheet for people to develop in pairs.

Harry worked on it quickly, not wanting to have to take it home. However, he was interrupted by honking. His attention drifted to the source of it. He did a double-take, not believing his eyes.

“Do you see her?” Harry nudged Ganesh, with whom he was paired. Ganesh chuckled and shook his head at Harry.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch, Harry Styles,” Ganesh responded as they both looked over at her.

She had parked across the street under a tree. Y/N waved and motioned for him to come out.

“What are you still doing here?” Ganesh asked. “Go live a little,” he insisted.

Harry smiled to himself as he considered every possible outcome of not attending class. He quickly threw everything into his backpack and waited until the professor turned to look at his laptop to sneak out.

“What are you doing here?” he laughed, his arms wide open. “Wait, how do you know my schedule?”

“Too many questions! Get in!”

[abarbaricyalp]

Bed, Beignets, Birthdays, and Other B Things Sam Wilson Likes

Happy birthday, Cap! 🎉 // AO3 Link 🛏🥐🎂

Sam’s arm fell to the other side of the bed and landed on a warm chest instead of cool sheets. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before turning over and sneaking a glance at the man next to him. Scared, just for a moment, that this might slip away if he actually looked.

Bucky was already awake, but he was still sleep rumpled, impression lines crossing his face and chest, hair a mess. Sam wondered if he could convince him to cut it now. Surely he was more susceptible to the idea when it was all tangled in the morning. Then again, Sam figured if the whole ‘your secret identity will be harder to figure out if you cut off your trademark mane’ hadn’t worked, he didn’t think a few knots would either.

“You stayed,” he yawned and stretched his arms into Bucky’s space.

Bucky’s fingers fell across one of Sam’s hands, traced over the lines of his metacarpals lightly. “It’s your birthday,” he said simply. “Thought I should at least buy you breakfast. Give you a day off.”

Sam smiled at the idea. Not hunting down rogue bases and ghost stories was fine by him. It seemed like a lovely day outside. The seasons were actually turning here and there was a crispness he could feel even without opening the window. It made him press closer to Bucky’s chest, hiding his head under Bucky’s jaw. Bucky’s arms went around him, his left arm slow in caution and also because he was laying on it.

“Maybe I like chasing you down,” Sam suggested.

“You like pastries more,” Bucky pointed out. And that was true. Food in general, but breakfast desserts were a favorite. And they were in Paris of all places. Sam really could not envision a better day.

“You got any other plans for the day?” Sam asked. “Or are you gonna disappear as soon as I turn my back on you outside?”

“I don’t plan on letting you outside,” Bucky admitted. “My plans involved getting you in the shower and then back in this bed. Everything else can be ordered in.”

Sam hummed. That did sound like a really good plan. “Can I open the window?”

“We’re on a fourth floor, so I don’t think that many people will be able to hear you. Go for it.”

Sam lifted his head enough to watch Bucky’s face until it broke into a grin. “Oh, that kind of day in bed, huh?” he asked.

Bucky’s fingers moved up Sam’s back. “That kind of day in bed,” he agreed and turned onto his back, pulling Sam over him as he went. His fingers went back to tracing Sam’s spine and Sam tried not to shiver with it. He didn’t succeed.

“If you were gonna ask for something today, what would it be?” Bucky asked.

Sam raised an eyebrow and took his own turn to brush his fingers over Bucky’s chest–the line of hair traveling down his pecs, a birthmark against his ribs, a scar under his collarbone, which Sam weirdly had a matching one to. They’d both gotten them when they were kids, lifetimes before they knew each other or had any shared life experience. Except, Sam supposed, falling out of a tree and hitting every branch on the way down.

“Use pet names today,” he decided. “Don’t call me Wilson.”

“What about–”

“Sam and all your terrible variations are fine,” Sam added.

Bucky grinned up at him. “Alright, doll,” he agreed. “That one’s easy enough to give you.” He sat up so they were shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, hip to hip. It made Sam light-headed and he tilted forward to catch Bucky’s mouth on his and also steady himself.

Bucky kissed like he thought it was the last thing he was going to do. Sam refused to consider the legitimacy of that fear. Bucky was intense and excited. Sometimes it felt like running into a brick wall and sometimes he opened up like an endless expanse of soft lips and searching hands. Sometimes the brick wall came down between them, and then tilted forward for extra kisses, with a hand on Sam’s chest, pushing him back.

“Wait, wait,” Bucky panted and then took another three kisses. “Shower first,” he encouraged. “I have a plan for today.”

“What about food?” Sam asked.

Bucky grinned at him and it made Sam’s stomach turn over in the most desirable way. “Well, I’m gonna eat,” he said oh-so innocently. “But I don’t know how long it’s gonna take, so I figured we could order in later.”

Sam was nodding before Bucky even finished talking. “Yeah, alright,” he agreed, pulling Bucky into another kiss.

He was expecting it when Bucky stood and lifted him in the same motion, but it still made him go light headed all over again. He kind of loved it when Bucky did that. It made him feel young and spontaneous and it was so damn hot.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Bucky breathed against Sam’s chest, where he seemed to be trying to kiss his way to Sam’s heart.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed dazedly. “And here’s to many more.”

“Well you’ve still got to get through this one,” Bucky teased.

Sam shivered and curled his arms around the back of Bucky’s neck. He kind of thought this wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. But he was fully planning on doing this again next year.

Read the rest on AO3

[themeraldee]

I was thinking about how what Homelander clearly considers part of Madelyn's betrayal, alongside the lying about him having a son, was her being afraid of him. And that fear being why she appeased him the way she did, *just like everyone else does*, when he'd hoped she was different. That she actually cared. But no, like everyone else who actually SEES him, she was scared of him. This made me think, what if he figured the only way a person could truly love him on a personal level would be if they'd had no exposure to who he is. Someone who doesn't know about the violence, who he can just be the charming hero in the sunlight for (I guess this would be pre his S3 revelation that certain people still like him even when he kills in broad daylight lol). Or so he hopes. He is desperate to please, after all. So then I thought, what if he somehow cultivated a relationship like this, away from Vought, and then this person was presented with the dark truth about him. Maybe from someone aligned with Butcher, maybe just accidentally, but for the first time he sees that familiar fear flickering in them too. This person who was supposed to be uncorrupted. Who was supposed to love him. Who he'd been so good for. I can see multiple endings to that scenario, some much darker than others. I guess a lot would depend on how this person reacted, if they could still accept him, how deep that fear goes. Anyway sorry for the very long ask! No pressure to do anything with this, I just wanted someone equally obsessed with this hot mess of a man to bounce it off of.

anon I AM OBSESSEDDDDDD. I feel a series brewing.... I honestly ADORE this idea. I love how heartbreaking it was to him that even though Madelyn has known him for so long and has been a part of like everything he's ever done she was still scared of him. How crushing must that feel that the person who's been by your side and at your beck and call for decades is afraid of you???

Him whisking you away to live this peaceful apple pie life with America's true hero you can't believe just happened to fall for you just to have the curtain pulled right in front of your eyes.

afagfhjdfadjlhf

I'm such a sucker for giving Homie all he wants and needs so like I totally want reader to go low-key darkside. Like. You realise noone will ever love you the way he does. Isn't a little grey morality worth this all-consuming eternal love you'd otherwise never feel again. Forever chasing this feeling the rest of your life.

After he finds out that someone spilled the beans to you he comes home crushed. You're nowhere to be seen. Again, another attempt at love ruined. Does he not deserve to have that? He undresses leaving his bloodied suit (after whatever carnage he came back from) in pieces on the floor frustrated, not bothering to clean up before you come home.

Except he wakes up to you being there in the morning cooking breakfast for him. You greet him with a, "good morning. I did my best to wash your suit. I didn't wanna ruin the fabric and throw it in the wash so I hope that's good enough. I really need you to find out for me how they usually wash it for you." You're being so nonchalant, talking about his bloody, viscera covered suit that you painstakingly scrubbed in the morning right as you're making some eggs and bacon for breakfast.

And he's kinda just staring at you shocked, waiting for you to meet his gaze. And when instead of fear he sees love and acceptance it's like his heart could burst from the relief.

ORRR it could go dark and sad - which I won't get into buutttt much to ponder.

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 - 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧 ☁️

This is the outline for a fic that's been decaying in my docs since November. Hopefully I will write it eventually because the idea is still so vivid in my head! Let me know what you think? 😚 (I wanted to post something productive because I feel like I haven't posted anything substantial of writing for so long)

Taehyun is an agent of Cupid. He does not particularly enjoy his job, but since it is a role that one is chosen for, it's not a job he can leave. It's not that he's cynical, he just... okay, okay, he's a cynic. Taehyun definitely shares some differences with his co-workers; he doesn't feel any of the excitement the rest of them show when the chimes sound, signalling that two soulmates have found each other; he's far from bubbly, forgoing any small talk to get his job done so he can get out of there as fast as he can; and he wouldn't be caught dead with his wings on display, keeping them tucked under his shoulder blades, even if it means having to show his ID at the door every morning. Many a time has he marched himself into the office of the higher-ups and asked them to check that there wasn't some mix-up, that they had gotten his name right, but the answer was always the same. Fate is as fate does.

One day, a file passes over his desk that makes him laugh. This is a case where every relationship has failed, and Cupid himself has marked it as urgent for matching, as this person clearly can not find anyone right for them in the slightest. He tracks you down, finding you on a busy street, which is a time saver for Taehyun, because he can take his pick of any person in the vicinity, shoot, and his job is done. Except, it's not that easy, because as soon as you see him knocking his arrow and declaring your name, you start to refuse, stirring up quite a scene. Taehyun is more annoyed, because this task is taking longer than it should, so he turns and lets his arrow fly towards the first sucker his eyes land on. And though the target—Choi Beomgyu, who was planning on being an eternal bachelor, you learn later—tries to run, Cupid's arrow never misses.

Now he has two unhappy clients, and you both take up complaints with the Order, leading to an investigation into his work performance and uncovering his less than ethical matchmaking methods. See, he hasn't really been going to the lengths of research that he's supposed to—looking into both individual's backgrounds, interests and preferences, life aspirations—he's more of a point and shoot kind of guy. Turns out most of the couples he sticks together are miserable.

The only way out of this mess for Taehyun? For his latest match to be a true one. In short, you and Beomgyu have to fall in love.

[lizardsfromspace]

Okay, this is the conclusion to my posts about Sophia Stewart. I'll never do something like this again

Everything I've posted is from her own book or her web presence btw. That's all I'm drawing from and if anyone tells me any information about her they gained any other way I'll block them immediately so uh, don't

Towards the end she reveals some of her other pitches. By showing she copywrote sequels to the Matrix and Terminator

Lots of strange details here - she wrote The Matrix 4 in 2000? They didn't even start filming The Matrix 2 & 3 until 2001. Also, we can see in this book that her pitch has nothing to do with The Matrix or Terminator, but she claims she wrote direct sequels to both?

(Her explanation for how both very different films are ripping off her work - a 1:1 copy, she claims - is, hilariously, that The Terminator plagiarizes it front to back, while The Matrix plagiarizes it back to front. What?)

But also she didn't write it. She registered copyright on a synopsis for The Matrix 4. She has concepts of a plan for a Matrix 4.

The book ends with a pitch for another...she calls it a book, but it's a movie pitch? And this, too, is just a synopsis for some grand epic series, light on detail of character and plot and heavy with lore and rants (in this case, primarily about God and Adam & Eve). Of course her exhaustively long but barely sketched-out epic movie pitch has a prologue, which is also full of Christian-tinged Ancient Aliens pyramid power woo.

Sophia Stewart is unimportant, bc she represents a class of writer. Writers who have Ideas. Who have outlines and plot points but no real story, bc they never write it. But they think just having Really Good Ideas is enough - that you should get credit for coming up with a good idea for a story, regardless of if you make an actual story out of it. They're a "writer", but they never write. Despite this they often have a deep case of Dunning-Kruger, churning out outlines that leave out basic details like "what happens in the climactic battle" and the personalities of characters while insisting that an inability to author anything shouldn't keep you from being praised as a genius author

If that type of person is lucky enough to have money, they become a studio executive or tech guy, both professions awash in the uncreatively creative, or they hire ghostwriters. If they're not, they become the type of person to file spurious lawsuits under the misapprehension they own basic plot concepts. It's the "I coulda made the majors!" of writing, except, you know. Baseball players who didn't make the majors still actually played baseball at some point. I assume from now on all those types will just pump their outline into ChatGPT and try to sell the gunk it slops out and then claim they 'wrote' it so uh, uhhhhhhhhhhhh

The only reason I made these posts was discovering the conspiratorial angle to her work, bc who cares if a major studio has to deal with a spurious lawsuit? That was the part that actually sucks. But also, she does a lot of press: profiles on news websites, podcasts, that documentary was even made by other filmmakers, who actually make films. It's persisted from blogs and chain emails all the way to podcasts and TikToks. All of this uncritically spreads her story, but I also have to ask: how many actual African-American science fiction writers do those platforms profile? How many of them get documentaries made about their work? How much air is being sucked out of the room by the decades long misinformation about the "true" creator of The Matrix? And why is that misinformation so persistent when it takes a trivial amount of effort to find out it just isn't true? It feels good to support the underdog against the big studio, but in this case it just isn't true.

The sad truth is a lot more Hollywood plagiarism cases look like this than are real exposures of wrongdoing, but people tend to accept them at face value since they feel like a little guy taking on a corporation, though in reality it's just two writers suing each other. Take The Holdovers case, where people immediately turned on it, but if you look into it, the two scripts have very little in common, and the accusing writer makes odd claims like a human character in The Holdovers being a ripoff of a billboard in his script.

Or look at Groundhog Day, which was accused of plagiarism by Richard A. Lupoff, writer of the story "12:01 P.M.". The two stories have nothing in common besides a time loop; in Groundhog Day he's reliving a day, in 12:01 PM he's reliving an hour. Groundhog Day is a romcom, 12:01 P.M. plays it for horror. Groundhog Day never reveals the source of its lop but it's clearly fantastical in nature, 12:01 P.M. is explicitly science fiction. In Groundhog Day he escapes the loop, in 12:01 P.M. he never does. You can't deny Lupoff felt personally slighted, but at the end of the day, a world where a writer could own the concept of time loops would be a dystopia where creativity and art would die.

But even though they were wrong, The Holdovers & Groundhog Day cases were based on real works of writing that existed. They were based on a real, if misguided, sense of violation from the writers. But in this case, we have a mere outline of a story with not even basic similarities to the stories she's claiming are a 1:1 copy of her work, and decades of media appearances based on exploiting a community college media student's mistake in 2004. Anyway seems bad

[solroskajan]

Fankids aren't usually something I make?? At least I haven't made one in a very long time. But like, I thought it would be funny if the people who found each other because they were bullied, managed to somehow raise a bully. It started out as a joke but quickly turned serious lol.

He does not grow up to be a bad person by any means (Uzi made sure of that) but like, he's an absolute menace at times.

N really, really wanted to name him Biscuit and Uzi said "Fine, but we're spelling it with a Z".

So, some kids found his name cool on the first day of school and Bizcuit let that get to his head. He's pretty much equallly praised and made fun of for it, but now he has a reputation to uphold as the "cool kids" leader. (You know, the kids who thinks they're cool but actually aren't, they're mostly just weird and kinda mean)

Biz has a lot of restless energy and he does not like to be told what to do. He gets into shouting matches with Uzi a lot more than any of them would like. He will slam doors and punch walls.

N is generally very patient with him, but it's a bit too much for him sometimes too, especially as Biz gets older. But Biz likes to draw and it's one of the things that calm him down, so he draws with his dad a lot and sometimes Uzi joins in. He loves both of his parents very much despite it all. 

Yes, his catchphase is "Let's get down to bizness" and it makes everyone cringe except his fellow cool kids who always cheer him on, and his parents who are scared of that phrase. They have seen him get hurt too many times.

I saw someone else naming their shipkid Biscuit a while ago and i'm so sorry I stole your idea whoever you are, (edit: it was most likely @bloodywolfwings!) It's just so in character to me and again it's not like i planned to share this in the first place ;v;

Look, If there's any parents who's allowed to give their kid a weird name it's Uzi and N.

[imaybe5tupid]

Why bother? (Why bother?) It's gonna hurt me. (It's gonna hurt me.) It's gonna kill when- (Why bother!) -You desert me! (Gonna hurt me!)

Set after Nightmare. Laios is reminiscing and contemplating.

[jerreeeeeee]

i don’t know if i’m ever gonna write the fic but i’ve been thinking abt like. the eternal stockade. the implications. lup, a lich who was trapped in a dark featureless cell for a decade completely isolated with nothing to keep her sanity but her own mind. she has to put people in the eternal stockade. how many liches does she see herself in. how many liches started out just like her. how many liches are truly too far gone. and the only liches we ever see other than her and barry are edward and lydia. they’re certainly evil, but mad? they seem pretty sane. they’re not, like, tattered echoes of souls, they’re definitely still people. even as much of a grudge as lup surely has against them, wouldn’t they remind her incredibly strongly of herself? do they deserve to be trapped just like she was? for eternity? isn’t eternity what turned john to existential despair in the first place?

[puppyeared]

will they ever make a How Its Made episode on fursuits

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[numericalbridge]

tbh, if Darius was meant to be a bad guy in s2a, his behavior in Eda's Requiem would be very strange and off. A vain villain who thinks spoiling his clothes is worse than rebelling against the Emperor? Sure. But you would think even the most vain person would react and lash out over almost getting killed with the corrupted spell and then having their arm sliced painfully by Raine? And yet he doesn't behave as you would expect. Yes, he catches and threatens Raine, but there is no personal 'you've almost got me killed/you will pay back for hurting me'. So if he was set up as villain his non-reactions would be a weird characterization choice.

[betelgeusing]

marty hart's cyclical return to praising family as THE thing that keeps a man grounded, stable, and happy (specifically in pointing out that rust DOESN'T have a family) even as flashbacks show him spiraling into jealous macho violence as he lies to, mistreats, and destroys his family over the course of multiple affairs (by which he deliberately steps outside of and away from his family despite his wife's best efforts to get him to reconnect and step up to be the family man he sees himself as)

vs

rust cohle's repeated excoriations of the idea of individuality and personhood and the stupid self-centeredness and entitlement that comes with saying "I, a human being, matter to the universe, and the things I do matter", an ideology he carries for years and waxes poetic on for his interviewers as late as 2012, even as he obsessively works himself to the bone to get justice and resolution for the victims he's assigned and ultimately to protect children from the powerful and dangerous people who want to brutalize them

[stevethehairington]

ALSO i did not realize that hannibal the tv series was based on ALL of the hannibal books. i thought it was just red dragon but it's NOT its ALL of them and i am living for this realization while reading these books bc i can see how the details from them all are being mixed and melded together to form the masterpiece that is hannibal tv and im LOVING that

[giantkillerjack]

Yo I don't know if anyone else is seriously bothered by this but those "good luck" posts where everyone goes wow this post really works you HAVE to reblog it or else you won't get the good thing that happens when you reblog it and therefore it's your fault if the good thing doesn't happen because you didn't reblog the post,

Yeah, those posts. They don't ummmmmmmmm

They don't work.

Like, listen, a little prayer of good luck to give yourself hope is one thing, but every single one of these posts has a comment that is like "this is literally magic I received life-altering amounts of money because of this post REBLOG THIS NOW." And assuming these accounts aren't just also the original poster emotionally manipulating people - And brushing over how foolish/cruel it feels to give false hope and additional tasks to those in poverty AND moving on from how absolutely shitty these posts are for people with compulsion-related disorders or difficulty discerning reality--

it feels to me that the more we make up magic that doesn't exist in this world, the harder it is to see how things really are, and the more it obscures from us the magic that actually does exist. Things like magnetism, electricity, human thought and connection, emotion, storytelling, machinery, fire. That's the sort of magic we have in this world. These magics are real and they can be manipulated in miraculous and terrible ways.

And maybe it's just the way my mind works, but if I am able to convince myself that a photo of a four-leaf clover has any amount of cosmic power over my life, then I am no longer looking clearly at my situation and what I need to do to change it. I am no longer able to truly see the magic that IS there.

I feel the same way about astrology honestly. I don't think it's bad to believe in as long as you're not ascribing it to unwilling people, but I personally do feel like if I believed the shapes the Romans saw in the stars made me who I am, then not only would I deny myself autonomy, but also I would miss out on the magic of the stars as huge lonely nuclear light giants indifferent to and ignorant of the lives of humans in terrifying and beautiful ways. I might even dismiss scientific discoveries that didn't fit my view. And I think I've seen enough of the damage that can do for one lifetime. (I am aware that I probably wouldn't have so many problems with astrology if I wasn't a furious ex-Catholic. But again, there's nothing wrong with faith as long as you're not slapping it onto other people.)

But, gods, I hate these fucking good luck posts.

I am not poor due to the stars or the lack of luck-money posts on my dashboard. I am poor because I live in oppressive power structures that I hope to see burn in my lifetime. I need as clear a view of this reality as possible.

If you want to spread positive magic, you have to spread love and information and images/stories of a beautiful shared future that other people are invited to be a part of.

I'm a big believer in Hope. I believe hope is a sacred thing. But I'm not a big fan of false hope.

So in conclusion, if you reblog this post and then tomorrow something very lucky and seemingly unrelated happens, it had nothing to do with this post.

The only Magic will be the magic of unfathomably huge amounts of data transferring all across the world instantaneously to reach you and show you words that came from someone else's heart and mind.

The only Magic will be however it makes you feel to know that if you need luck, at least one other person in this world wants good things to happen to you: I care that you are found. I care that you are loved. I care that you are safe. I care that you live long enough to find or be found by happiness and that you then live for a very long time after that. And I don't need to meet you to know that I'm right.

Know that I will spend the rest of my life working to build spaces where you would be welcome. And maybe you and I will never meet, but I happen to know there's a whole lot of people like me in this world. And I happen to know that as long as you are alive, there is a chance you will grow old in warmth and comfort, surrounded by friends. There is a chance that your old eyes will be crinkled at the sides with laugh lines. And that's magic. That's real magic.