#I know it's easier to finish a fic then post it

[atariakana]

I've seen lots of these types of posts lately and with the new year coming up, now seems like a good time to share a personal anecdote:

A few New Years ago--I don't remember exactly which, time is soup to me these days--I made a New Year's Resolution to leave at least one comment on every fic I finished. It is the only resolution I have ever kept for more than like, a month. I stopped commenting on every fic at some point, because some days my brain just Will Not cooperate and it was causing undue pressure for something that was supposed to be fun, but--for at least two years, I kept it up. Some of them were essay-comments, some of them were one sentence, some were just emojis. But I always found something to say, and do you know what? It was one of the best things I've ever done. Here are some reasons why:

1. I got better at expressing myself. At first it was hard to put all of my Big Complicated Feelings about a fic into words, but as I continued to leave comments pretty much daily, it obviously got easier. And this started to bleed into my regular life--it got so much easier to express gratitude, care, and love to my friends and family. The words didn't get stuck in my throat anymore, and it wasn't as hard to parse complex emotions. It genuinely made me a better communicator.

2. I got to make people happy for fast, easy, and free. Sometimes I would spend like 30 seconds just giving my honest thoughts and I would get a reply back that I made an author's week. Their entire week! For just saying what was on my mind! After they made my week by writing something beautiful about a thing I loved! It's, like, the world's best positive feedback loop. You get to TALK to the people making beautiful art and THEY TALK BACK. NOWEHERE else do you get that kind of direct connection, quite frankly. Revel in it.

3. Extra lore drops/easter eggs/explanations for things. I love lore so much and when people construct complex little universes or paragraphs worth of justification for like one (1) throwaway mechanic or trope I eat that shit up. And all of that doesn't always make it into the fic, however, sometimes if you ask for it. The author will just. Tell you. And sometimes, you don't even have to ask, you just talk about an aspect you liked and the author will be like "funny you should mention that" and tell you background you didn't even know existed. Again I say: where else do you get this so easily. Revel!

4. The joy of receiving AO3 emails. This one may sound silly but honestly when most of what I get are promo emails and correspondence I Do Not want to deal with, the little spark of happiness I get from seeing "reply to your comment on..." in my inbox is such a blessing. Between chapter updates and comment replies, there was a period when I was getting like a dozen AO3 emails a week. Do not underestimate the serotonin boost receiving a dozen AO3 emails in a week can give you.

Most of the people I interact with/have interacted with regularly have been in fandom for a good ten years, at least, and so are part of an older fandom culture. But I have gotten glimpses, through posts like this, of a changing climate. People seem to have mistakenly constructed a divide between the Artist and the Consumer. This is a divide that exists, perhaps, for big time actors and pop stars, who are doing a job and getting paid for their work, and who have large numbers of fans who want their attention. But the relationship between fic authors and fic readers is not that of Artists and Consumers--we are a community. Nobody here has legions of fans, we are the fans, and the reason we post anything is in the hopes of connecting with someone over the things that we love. We are doing this for eachother. AO3 comments are not the same as writing a letter to your favorite youtuber or whatever, they are engaging with your community. And engaging with a community is one of the most rewarding things you can do.

So tl;dr: leave comments! It's fun I promise!

someone I follow on the bird app just announced they’re starting a very exclusive private fic server because they and a bunch of other people want to talk about how much they love the fics they’re reading, and as an author can I just say that a really great place to talk about a fic you love is in the comments for that fic

I understand that people are trying to create safe spaces, but as the number of comments that I get on my fics dwindles with each passing year, knowing these spaces exist where my fics are being discussed, places that I am excluded from, makes me want to write fic LESS

I mean I guess who cares, right, because if I stop writing, there’s 10,000 other people that will continue…but if you participate in a fic “book club” server and you say nice things there about a fic you loved, maybe copy and paste that into a comment on AO3?

the only thing fanfic writers are asking for in return for hours of hard work is attention. please don’t rob us of the one thing that we hope for when we hit “post”

[melobin]

so it’s been a while ! i really missed you all and i really missed being here but the last month hasn’t been great for me. i was really open about what happened and getting assaulted last month and i really appreciate how understanding you all were with me taking my time to recover from it and honestly it’s still really fresh, everything just feels a bit too real for me to properly cope with LMFAO.

everything took a real toll on my mental health and i’ve been in the depths as of late, i’ve barely been eating or sleeping, everything’s just a bit harder than it should be but i’m alive and pushing through and trying my hardest so i guess that’s what matters most.

i’m not abandoning melobin. i didn’t plan to take such a long time away i just couldn’t be around certain things and i had no motivation at all. i guess i felt a little guilty just disappearing so i did try and come back every so often but not as much as i’d have liked to. going forward though, i would like to talk about the future of melobin and what i have planned to do with the blog. there’s a few things i’d like to address.

kinktober will be continuing. i know it’s not october anymore, lmfao, but i will be finishing her !! i have all the days planned out and i will finish that, i will also post the anton porn plot fic i promise lmfao.

with the news of seunghan’s unfortunate departure from riize and the news of his solo debut, he will still be featured on melobin. however, i will not be adding him to future fic series and full group posts. i understand this will upset people but i thought hard about it and i guess i just feel like it’ll be easier on me to have less people to focus on when it comes to doing bigger projects on melobin. i will still be writing for him, just not with riize.

the past few weeks i’ve been surrounded by all sorts of drama and such with my name being mentioned and brought up in spaces it doesn’t need to be as well as having received countless negative asks about me. i understand how difficult this whole this has been, but please do not project your anger onto me. i frankly have a whole lot more to deal with than the ongoings of kpop and i know some people find that bothersome or upsetting, believe me i know, but i have no say and no power on what has happened so please stop treating me as if i made the decision that sm made. i still stand with everything i’ve said and i don’t take back any of it, i am however understanding of other peoples positions here and i respect that, i hope you can all respect me too when i say i just want the best for all seven of them and ill support them no matter what that includes.

i’ve always loved writing and it’s not something i just want to give up on so i won’t, i’m hoping next week i can slowly ease myself back into writing and slowly begin to be back here, especially for christmas! it’s also my birthday next week so i’m trying to be a little more upbeat and positive.

i appreciate you all reading this and if you have anything negative or hateful to say, please just don’t 🩷 if you want to unfollow me you can but sending hate gets you no where

[regulusrules]

The journey of writing MBARBYC is truly changing my perspective on a lot of things. I'm simply loving the fact that, for the first time ever, I'm writing a WIP, and how it's fueling me to become consistent, not just in updates but in life as well.

Honestly I have always avoided posting WIPs like a plague, but now? I'm finding it freeing in ways I had no recollection of before. The fact that there is always something to go back home to do - the fact that there are a few handful people reading your fic, waiting for you - and the fact that you're building a little community of friends who are willing to go to the end of its line with you.

Writing stops being about validation or kudos in WIPs, and instead, you're more interested in hearing your readers bash you with invisible maces for what you're doing to their favourite characters, or giving you multi-coloured hearts for healing them. And in these few comments, these few expressions of love, you realise we're all just sides of the same coin, sharing our love for fandom in different manners.

Truly freaking awesome

[myokk]

autumn🫶

[lesbianangeldust]

huskerdust fic where angel has a flashback/ptsd moment during sex and husk helps him manage it (I am totally not projecting nor do I want to read this for my own mental wellbeing)

[whattraintracks]

Behold! The next part of the self-indulgent Castle-inspired Morgadec fic =D

Shoutout to @deedo2313, your tags on part one made my day 🫂

Cops & Robbers Pt 2 - First | Next

[]

By the time Karadec arrives at the bank, it's barricaded and crawling with law enforcement. Looking up at the bank's façade, unsteadiness pools in his stomach. He isn't technically authorised to be here, but. Where else would he be? With a flash of his badge, he slips into the sea of personnel.

The mobile command center is situated at the nexus of police activity. As he weaves toward it, he passes teams of armored officers, spots snipers on every roof, and hears the thrum of a helicopter overhead. Wearing only plain clothes, he feels even more out of place, wholly underdressed and vulnerable. He can't imagine how Théa and Morgane must feel.

He wonders, absently, what ridiculous clothes she's wearing today. He wishes he could see her. Wishes he'd said yes. To needing her, to there being a case. Maybe she wouldn't be trapped somewhere he can't reach her if he had.

He strides into the command center, and it doesn't take long for the RAID commander to notice him. "Who are you?"

"Commandant Karadec, Lille Judicial Police." He reaches for his badge, but the commander's more focused on an array of screens showing live footage around the bank.

"Pleasure to meet you," the man intones, "but I'm going to need you to step outside."

"With all due respect, sir," Karadec steps forward, "my partner is in that bank."

The commander turns abruptly. "We've got a cop in there?"

"She's a consultant," he corrects instinctively. "We were on the phone when the robbers took over the bank. She said there's four of them, dressed up in doctor's scrubs."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"They're armed with assault weapons. Various accents. The one I spoke with sounded American."

"You spoke with one of them?" He makes out the name Peltier on the commander's uniform. "What was the demeanor like?"

He pauses, remembering the chill he felt when the robber so casually threatened Morgane. "Calm. Very calm."

Peltier nods slowly, then turns back to the video screens. "Thanks for the intel. We'll do everything possible to get your partner out safe."

His stomach lurches. He has nothing left to leverage, but he can't—He needs to be here. To know what's going on, to be doing something. He works his jaw, trying to summon Morgane's endless charisma, her impish ability to worm into anyone's business.

"You missed your cue," Peltier calls over his shoulder. "You want to help your partner? Stay out of the way and let me do my job."

Karadec doesn't slam the door on his way out, but it's a near thing.

Gilles and Daphné are waiting for him by the police barrier, bobbing anxiously and checking for texts every few seconds. Daphné spots him first. "Did they tell you anything?"

"Only that my services aren't wanted," he scowls, and they deflate, concern and despair evident on their faces. He's reminded he's not the only one trying to look out for Morgane. He has a team who will back him up and is as eager to help as he is. They just need someone to direct them.

"Gilles, there's a unit on standby to storm the building; figure out what they know. Daphné, look for other robberies with similar M.O.s."

Reinvigorated, Daphné takes off, typing rapid-fire.

Gilles heads off in the other direction, but hesitates a few steps in. "Do they," he grimaces, "do they know anything about the hostages?"

Karadec exhales slowly. "I don't know."

Gilles nods, eyes scrunching sympathetically. "Good luck."

He nods back, reaching for his phone. If Peltier won't let him in, maybe Céline knows someone he can petition for more clearance.

But before he can even unlock his phone, someone calls out, "Commandant Karadec!" It's an officer from the command center. "Commander Peltier would like a word."

His return to the command center has Peltier's full attention. "You want to tell me what were you thinking?"

"Pardon?"

"As soon as I get our bank robber on the line," Peltier barrels on, "he says, and I quote, 'I will only talk to the Super Cop.'"

Ah.

"Yeah, I thought so." Peltier scans his face. "You wanted in? Well, you're in."

What? Karadec blinks, in shock. Of course, he'd like to be in the know without going over any heads, but "Sir, I don't have any training in hostage negotiations."

"And I don't have time to give you a seminar," Peltier snaps, "so think of it like this: do the opposite of whatever interrogation training tells you. Don't yell, don't bully, don't threaten him in any way. You do everything you can to keep him calm."

The sense of unsteadiness returns. He runs the advice over in his mind, rapidly attempting to weigh the pros and cons. This is his opportunity to do something and stay apprised of the situation inside the bank, but can he pull it off? What if he screws up? How many people could die as a result of his inexperience? He can't believe he rushed into this without a plan. Peltier stares him down, but he needs more time to think.

"Commandant. Are you up for this?"

A flash of red pulls his attention to the video screens. It's her car, illegally parked.

He's done a lot of new things for Morgane and made a lot of poor decisions. What's one more?

He squares his shoulders, facing the commander head-on. "Absolutely."

[gothamcityneedsme]

ok if i go with this AAAaM massacre!route dream idea. i DO have to figure out which goddess flynn would imagine being there (said goddess taking on a voyeuristic role, downplayed as the succubus barely needs to characterize someone uninvolved with the scene--aka VERY npc).

anyways. Current best answer to me is toki actually

[crows-of-buckets]

I need to draw my rook bc I actually do have some ideas for them I just. Have NOT been in a creating mood idk I'm so tired... Aoughgggh

[porcelainvino]

how it feels to read off the gkm on live journal because i don’t want to make an ao3 acc

[silverysongs]

quite a nasty ride

The ride back from London was terrible. Arthur’s ridiculous rhyme about the weather played in a loop in her head, and not for the first time did Guenevere curse the climate in England. Rain smacked on the top of the carriage, deafening when they passed under a copse of trees, and she closed her eyes against her pounding headache. The bruise throbbing underneath her eye and across her cheekbone kept her from leaning against the carriage wall.

Across from her, Sir Lionel sat scowling at the sword in his lap. She was certain he had his own bruises; she could see a line of dried blood trailing down his cheek even though his head was bowed. He hadn’t spoken to her except to apologize, profusely, face aghast, before they had set off again rattling down the road. As irritating and unpleasant as he was, she reflected, at least he had enough integrity to be remorseful.

Finally the noise of the carriage changed from rumbling to rattling—a sure sign that they were on cobblestones and not a dirt road. She couldn’t bring herself to feel relief.

Lionel dismounted first and then helped her down, surprisingly gentle. They made their way into the castle, painfully slow it seemed, or at least painful and slow. Her head still ached, and she had a suspicion that Lionel kept her hand tucked into his arm on purpose so that she wouldn’t stumble.

“Where to, ma’am?” he asked quietly.

She sighed. “The king’s office, Lionel.” She didn’t say thank you and he didn’t bristle like she thought he might.

They passed servants and knights as they moved through the halls, who watched their battered queen with wide eyes. She forced the corners of her mouth up to try and make an appearance of serenity, but she wasn’t sure it was very convincing.

Then Lancelot rounded the corner, and she felt a stab of dread. He stopped, bowed his head to her in respect, and then took a second look with narrowed eyes. “Your majesty—” he began.

“We were accosted by bandits on the road,” Lionel interrupted. “Entirely my fault. Which is what I’m going to relay to the king.”

“Your majesty—” Lancelot repeated, looking intently at her, but she held up a hand.

“I’m fine, Sir Lancelot,” she said, summoning the scraps of her imperiousness. “No need to hover. I’m retiring to my rooms as soon as we see the king.”

She meant it as a dismissal. He pressed his lips together very tightly, face a blaze of fury, but he nodded. “Sleep well, your majesty,” he said, and turned sharply on his heel back the way he’d come.

She had known he would be angry, and she was already exhausted by it. He had hated Sir Lionel since he joined the Table, and this would only made him hate Lionel more, which would create an even larger chasm between the English knights and their single French compatriot. And besides that, he would regret his anger—she could practically see him at the Table, shrinking himself to be smaller, shifting guilty glances her way—and he would treat her as though she were made of glass for the next few days, scared of hurting her more.

Lost in her thoughts, she was almost surprised when they reached the king’s office. The door was open, and she could see him at the desk, surrounded by uneven burning tapers, gnawing on the end of a quill. What a terrible habit, she thought, but even through her fatigue the thought was fond.

He looked up when they entered, smiling. “Genny! And Sir Lionel,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you together.”

“It’s not for a happy occasion, your majesty,” Lionel said heavily.

The smile faded from the king’s face, and he rose from the desk. “Sir Lionel,” he said, suddenly very serious, “why does my queen have a black eye?”

Lionel cleared his throat. “We were coming back from the fair and we were attacked,” he said. “There were highway robbers, waiting for some unsuspecting carriage.”

The king didn’t take his eyes off her face. “And you were unsuspecting?”

She heard the note of danger in his voice. “Arthur,” she said tiredly. “It was raining, and it was growing dark. He fought all three of them off once they were on us. Don’t judge him too harshly.”

“On the contrary, your majesty,” Lionel insisted, “I take full responsibility for whatever punishment you would give me.”

Arthur gave a long and hard look at his knight. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, only that like Lancelot, he was angry. When Arthur felt any strong emotion, he talked, and right now she could feel a tirade building. Please, she wanted to say, even though it was childish. Please don’t argue. Please don’t raise your voices. Just leave and let me go to sleep.

“I will think on it, Lionel,” he said finally. “I’m not in the best state of mind right now, and I’m afraid I’d be unjust. But I do thank you for getting the queen safely home.”

Lionel bowed his head. “Your majesty.”

Arthur watched him leave. His eyes flickered back to Guenevere’s face when the door scraped shut. “You could have been killed,” he said quietly. “They could have held you for ransom. Or taken you back to France.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” She was trying to be ironic but she could hear it fall flat.

His expression softened. “Let me look at you,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her to a chair. “Sit down. How did this happen?”

He was reaching a hand to her face, and she sighed. “When they jumped the carriage, one of the men slammed my head against the window,” she said. “I think they were trying to knock me out.”

He touched her chin, gently, and moved her head to the side so that he could see. Whatever he saw there, he winced at. “You’ll be a sight for a few days.”

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” she asked, scrounging up some dry wit.

“Believe it or not,” he said, peering at her hair, “when you’re fighting a war someone’s bound to fall off a horse. We all learned what to look for pretty quickly.”

His tone was light, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t want to think of the war. And horses made her think of the bandits, and she had determined not to think of them tonight, not when the memory still made her heart speed up.

He probed at her scalp and she flinched. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “You might have a headache in the morning, but you’ve got quite the goose egg, so I think you’ll be all right to sleep.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

His eyes showed surprise. “For what?”

“For not getting angry at Lionel,” she said. “For not starting a duel for my honor right here in this office.”

He smiled. “Believe me,” he said, rising and fetching a damp cloth, taking her face gently, rubbing the dried blood away from her face. “I’m angry, all right. In fact, I’m tempted to cancel the cattle show in London henceforth. Forever.”

“But?” she asked, then winced as he moved to her scalp. He stopped for a moment, and his hand dropped to her shoulder, steadying, almost as though he hadn’t thought about it.

“But,” he said. His eyes, so blue, and soft like water. “I was telling the truth. I didn’t think I would be fair to Lionel if I dealt him a blow here in this room.”

She had to bite the inside of her cheek very hard, to not show her disappointment on her face. “I see.”

“And,” he continued, focused again on her head, “besides all that, you looked exhausted.” His eyes darted to her face, very quickly, and then away.  

Now she was smiling, despite the stinging pain as he tried to be gentle with the cloth. “I see,” she said again in a lighter voice.

He worked silently for a few more moments, and then finally leaned away. She was sorry for the loss of him. “Well,” he said, “that’s the most of it, anyway.”

The relief must have showed on her face, because he smiled. “What a day you’ve had.”

“Wait till you hear about the cattle,” she said.

He laughed. “Come on, Genny. To bed with you. You can tell me about the cows tomorrow.”

[musical-chick-13]

What if I made this as off-putting as possible instead of romantic.

[samarecharm]

Scheming…

[kurolini909]

HELLO KURO i am once again back in ur inbox!! how's life? any new hyperfixations? :D once again sending u lots of love!!

Hey Plasma, missed you around here!!!! :D

Life is going I think. Bit anxious here and there, a few down days, but that's just how I am. X'D

I appreciate you asking!!! And the support!!!!!!! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

As for Hyperfixations... Space robots still have my heart very firmly so far TwT

How about you????? Any news? Anything exciting?? :3

[t-lostinworlds]

I feel like I'd be churning out fics faster if I had the "this is what I feel like writing right now so this is what you're getting." mentality. I always worry too much about which fic to post first to cater to other people or because I've already posted for that fandom it's time to post for this fandom just to make everyone happy. But most of the time, I'm only stomping on my creativity by doing that because I'm forcing myself to focus on this other thing even though i want to write something else.

[orcelito]

Finished reading thru the entirety of the side thing in one go and. Ow. Ow ow ow ow. So many parts of that thing HURT...

I can't WAIT to post it

[swagging-back-to]

im debating not making art anymore.