#I need to write a thesis on my own story lmao

[loudstan]

Dear readers, I need your help!

(Don’t worry, it’s not donations lmao)

Remember a long time ago I asked if you would be willing to answer a survey for my thesis? Well, the time has come. I need around 300 respondents (less than the people who interacted with my last post) and all you have to do is select numbers on a scale that reflect your opinion about NCT and some Kpop products.

No one is obligated to participate, but it would mean so much to me!

Answers are anonymous, and there’s no correct answer because it’s all about your own opinion. It would take less than 10 minutes of your time (way less than reading my stories) but it would make a huge difference in my academic life!

LINK

I’ll keep working on writing some new stuff for you all! Meanwhile, if you have some spare time, please help your girl out! 🙏 and if you have any friend who could answer the survey too, please share it when them!

Love,

Loudstan/ Loudie

[awkward-imaginations]

| First Impressions |

tetsuro kuroo x f!reader

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he noticed you sitting with Kenma, happily playing video games together. Intrigued by how close you and Kenma seemed, Kuroo asked about you on their walk home. Kenma described you as a fellow gamer and new student at Nekoma High. Kuroo's curiosity grew so he decided to introduce himself.

warnings/notes: highschool romance, fluff (maybe suggestive?), slight angst, I do NOT write fanfictions or storys normally, this is a first, so I am generally sorry for everything. CRINGE. def will be cringe in some parts. I'm a big sucker for Kuroo, him and Kenma may be ooc but I don't care this is my story and I just need to get it out of my head so I can finally write my Master's Thesis in peace. Also, english is not my first language. This has been "proofread" by my friends (who are also non-native speakers, lmao). If you find any mistakes, you can keep them.

word count: 1784

masterlist | next chapter

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he walked past your classroom. You were sitting across from Kenma at his table, happily chatting and playing on some sort of portable console. Your laughter was soft but infectious, causing Kenma to occasionally glance up from his game with a rare smile.

"She must be the new student Kenma was talking about," Kuroo thought as he paused to watch for a moment. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when Kenma mentioned he had made a friend on the first day of the new school year. Kenma didn’t share much about you, but Kuroo knew you had transferred to Nekoma High in the second year because your father had a new job, prompting your family to move to Tokyo. He also knew you liked video games and were a bit of a recluse at times. However, discovering you were a pretty girl was news to him.

Naturally, he brought it up with Kenma on their way home. “So, why didn’t you tell me your new classmate is a girl?” Kuroo asked, intrigued. Kenma looked at him, puzzled. “Does it matter? Besides, I had a feeling you'd be annoying about it.” Kuroo feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “What? Me? Annoying?!” Kenma rolled his eyes. “You're exaggerating.” Kuroo couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, you think so?”

They continued walking but were suddenly startled by the sound of a ringing bell. Kuroo turned around to see you riding past them on a bicycle. “See you tomorrow, Kenma!” you called out with a beaming smile, waving to him. Kenma raised his hand briefly and nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he said quietly in return.

Kuroo watched you with growing curiosity as you rode away. He couldn’t help but stare a bit. Your hair blew gently in the wind, and you seemed to be in your own little bubble of happiness.

“Looks like she’s really nice,” he remarked, still looking after you. Kenma shrugged. “Yeah, she’s all right. Someone who loves games as much as she does can’t be too bad.” Kuroo grinned mischievously. “Oh, is that so? Maybe I should talk to her sometime.” Kenma sighed. “Do what you want but remember she’s new. She might need some time to adjust to everything.” Kuroo nodded with a smirk. “Sure, I’ll be nice.”

 “Ah, not too hot and not too cold,” you said as you sank down next to Kenma on the bench outside the next day. He grinned and held out a bottle of green iced tea from the vending machine. “Yeah.” You thanked him and took a sip before returning to your Chemistry Book. “I really don't know why you're still doing school stuff during break,” Kenma remarked, switching on his console. “My dad bagged my PSP last night because I was playing for too long. Sorry, dad, but time travel is basically cheating, and I didn't want to miss an event.” Kenma had to stifle his laughter while you looked at him with an offended pout.

For a while, you sat next to each other in silence, reading, playing and occasionally taking a sip of iced tea. After a few minutes, the conversations in the schoolyard became a vague background noise. The letters blurred before your eyes as you began to lose yourself in your thoughts. Since the end of school yesterday, you couldn't stop thinking about the student Kenma shared the walk home with. Even in the brief moment you passed the two of them, you realized how incredibly familiar they seemed with each other (an how attractive Kenmas friend was), why didn't they spend time together during breaks? Was Kenma just hanging out with you out of pity because you were the new girl?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further into a negative direction, they were interrupted by Kenma's voice. “Is everything alright?” You turned your head directly in his direction, his gaze fixed on the screen of his PSP. He noticed you not saying anything and continued, “I haven't heard you turn a page for a while and thought you might need some help.“ You blinked a few times into space. “Um, yeah. No. Actually... I must've spaced out; I wasn't really thinking about anything.” Except your cute friend. Disbelieving, Kenma looked up from his console briefly. You felt your cheeks heat up at the lie you just told and quickly returned to staring at your book, which you lifted a little to hide your face. “Right,” Kenma finally said and returned to his game.

Not sharing your thoughts just caused them to stir up in your head again. You felt the need to express them verbally, otherwise you wouldn't be able to concentrate all day. But before you could breathe in enough air (and courage) to ask Kenma about his friend, he came running towards you, grinning broadly. “Oy, Kenma, why haven't you introduced me to your new friend yet?”

While Kenma didn’t seem bothered to look up from his game at all, you turned your gaze to Kuroo. Your eyes met for a second, but before he could say anything else when he came to a halt in front of you, Kenma sighed and answered, “Because you spend way too much time on your university prep courses, nerd.” Kuroo gripped the back of his neck with one hand and put on an apologetic look before shifting his attention back to you, “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he said his voice deep and smooth.

You noticed that your heart was beating a little faster and for an uncomfortably long second you couldn't get a sensible sentence together in your head. “I'm L/N Y/N, nice to meet you”, you finally brought forth, still looking at him. Your first impression wasn't wrong, he looked really good. Tall, broad shoulders with an athletic posture, dark, messy hair with piercing eyes. Had Kenma really just called him a nerd? Him?

Kuroo's smile widened as he noticed your lingering gaze. “Likewise. I’ve heard you’re quite the gamer,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. You shrugged. “I dabble. Although my father has just banned me from it so that I can concentrate better on school.” 

“Ah, I see,” Kuroo remarked. “No wonder you two befriended each other rather quickly.” Kenma, still focused on his game, muttered, “Yes, but now Y/N reads boring text books during breaks and I have to take on the bosses alone.“ You laughed nervously, the sound drawing Kuroo’s attention even more. “I'm sure I'll get my PSP back soon if I get better grades this school year”, you said, your confidence evident.

„If it’s nothing else, maybe I can help you with that?“ Kuroo asked, leaning in a little further towards you. It was then you noticed his uniform, which he wore in a laid-back, effortless style. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and his sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. He had even ditched the blazer altogether, giving him a relaxed and approachable look. Your face must’ve given away, that you had no idea what he was getting at.

“By tutoring, of course,” Kuroo added with a playful smile, leaning back slightly as if to give you some space again to process his offer. You blinked, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. “You would help me with my studies?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Of course,” Kuroo replied smoothly. “Anything to help a friend of Kenma's.“

Kenma, still immersed in his game, shot Kuroo a quick, knowing glance but didn’t comment. You looked at Kenma, seeking some sort of silent approval or encouragement, but he remained focused on his screen. “Um, that would be great, actually,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips. “I could definitely use some help with chemistry.”

“Perfect,” Kuroo said, his grin widening. “We can start tomorrow after school, if that works for you.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement. “Thank you, Kuroo.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, waving off your thanks. “I’ll make sure you get your PSP back in no time.”

Kenma finally looked up from his game, giving you both a thoughtful look. “Just don’t let him distract you too much,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’ll try my best.”

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the break, you gathered your things and stood up. Kuroo and Kenma followed suit, and the three of you started walking back to the school building together.

“By the way,” Kuroo said, falling into step beside you, “have you joined any clubs yet?” You shook your head. “Not yet. I’m still getting settled in and figuring out what I want to do. Why are you asking? Did you want to advertise yours?“ Kuroo noticed your teasing tone, but ignored it for now. “No, well, maybe a little. I’m the captain of the volleyball team. You should come watch us practice sometime.“

You hesitated for a moment, you knew volleyball from you friends at you former highschool, but their team wasn’t very good. To be precise, "good" was never a word you would think of in connection with their team to begin with. That's why the sport has remained uninteresting to you so far but the idea of watching Kuroo during practice was too tempting to resist. The thought of seeing him a little sweaty and worn out from training made your heart race. You could already picture his shirt clinging to his toned body, hair damp and falling into his eyes. The image made your cheeks heat up, but you quickly pushed the thought away, trying to stay focused on the conversation.

You nodded frantically. “Sounds interesting. Maybe I will check out your team.” Kuroo looked at you, smiling, he porbably noticed your little mental excursion. “Great! From next week on we practice after school every day. Just drop by the gym anytime.”

“Just be prepared for Kuroo to show off,” Kenma added and Kuroo chuckled. “I don’t show off, Kenma. I demonstrate. There’s a difference.”

As you reached your classroom, Kenma turned to Kuroo. “See you after school?”

“Yeah, see you,” he said, giving both of you a small wave before he added with a wink, „Ah, Y/N-Chan! Don’t forget about our study date tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you promised, watching him go with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. As you settled back into your seat, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe there was also a good side to your father taking your console.

[party-pixie]

hey, thanks for the kind words. i'll admit that i kinda forgot for a while that daily demon spotlight was meant to be a blog for fun above all, and i got too obsessed with my perfectionism to where even the slightest criticism would make me panic and overcorrect everything

i really do appreciate what you said as it kinda just grounded me again and made me realize that i'm not some giant public figure, i'm just some teenage trans girl who likes to write, so thank you so much even if you didn't intend it to be that deep lmao 🙏

well im glad i could help 🥰 i've gotten the perfectionism bug with my own writing so i know how much it really sucks. i think it's also scary on the internet where people are increasingly becoming mean to people they don't know over even small things, so it prob feels like you're risking getting huge backlash over something that isn't all that difficult to fix. like, the demon spotlight is just a hobby blog covering figures that appear in a game series that in itself has questionable information and unclear sources, it's not an official compendium blog run by atlus yknow??? i get not wanting to spread misinformation or see it get spread ab mythological figures but for a hobby blog where it's not difficult to add to posts, i don't think it needs to be all that deep. don't be afraid to add an addendum to old posts if you ever come across new information or a correction, i think that kind of thing could be beneficial even if the original post had a lot of incorrect stuff in it

plus, with so many different retellings and translations of mythological stories i think people will consider different ones to be their "canon" to them. i mean like, i read ab two or three different takes just on ganesha's birth in a little section ab parvati in a book discussing a ton of different goddesses. and with language barriers and such, you're bound to run into inaccuracies tbh

i think it's a good preface for everyone involved to come into this understanding that it's easy to unknowingly run into wrong information ab figures, smt is full of inaccuracies in itself, the demon spotlight is just a hobby and isn't gonna get thesis-level work put into it, and the goal isn't to spread misinformation

as long as you keep doing your best in research and handling things as respectfully as you can, i don't think mistakes should be a huge deal. like, yea okay you fucked up a post cus you had bad sources, it's not the end of the world and i don't think you should feel like it's the end of the world or someone else should make you feel that way. just don't argue with people if they give you a correction. i mean, if someone's a total asshole about it that's not really something you can help, the best you can do is apologize and correct the original post. but there's no need to wallow in sorrow cus you got something wrong, it's really not the end of the world🥰👍

[mochiwrites]

I NEED TO GUSH ABOUT YOUR EPIC AU

though i will admit i haven't heard of epic the musical at all, DO know what to expect since I've read the odyssey before LMAO

scar as odysseus and grian as penelope is just PERFECT, the emotion and conflict and THE FEELS of the first two chapters, GOD scar's yearning to go home and see grian is soAUGHSDSH

i remember needing to read the odyssey in highschool and my lit teacher always mentioned "odysseus is known to be very eloquent" and "he and telemachus have a way with words" LIKE YES SCAR SUITS THOSE TRAITS SO WELL AND HE'S BUFF LIKE A GREEK HERO TOO???!!?!

im patiently waiting for chapter three in my enclosure rn thank you for your service with your fic

-🦋 (a different butterfly anon if youve encountered one before LOL)

UWAHHHH THANK YOU SM💕💕💕

insert my plug of you should totally listen to epic the musical bc it's really really good and fun :D /silly

I remember when I was first coming up with the au and trying to assign character roles I almost put grian as odysseus on instinct since I'm a grian centric writer WHEEZE but then I decided to do something a little different and put scar as odysseus instead :D

he just ???? fits odysseus SO well with the natural charisma and this whole question of humanity vs monstrosity (a theme that is EXTREMELY prevalent in the musical that I am so normal about). and as one of my friends pointed out, his character is a bit reminiscent of secret life scar which hehehe I am so leaning into more as the story progresses on <3

and sobs, scar's yearning for grian... I'm really emotional about it. I've always been a big believer that scar is down horrible for grian and so very in love with him but in this au???? I get to turn that up to eleven and hehe I love writing scar in love with grian <3 esp when they're MARRIED. it's a new sort of yearning !!! he's not yearning to be in a relationship with grian--he's yearning to return to him ;w;

I'm also really happy with grian's placement as penelope (as if he'd be anyone else WHEEZE) but he just,,, fits it so well. he's clever and stubborn and uwawawawa

don't you worry, I've already got a google doc open with the next two songs pulled up >:D I think I've managed to strike a good balance between working on thesis and then doing my own creative writing so I might be able to manage semi-regular updates :D it also helps that these chapters aren't my typical word count for chapters? the first two chapters were both 4k and 4k is a lot more manageable to write than 7k WHEEZE

I've also got a clear goal of what I want to accomplish in a chapter, so that helps too hehe. over all I'm buzzing with excitement; I adore epic the musical sososo much for so many different reasons and being able to combine my two hyperfixations into one is so cool :3

I'm really glad others are enjoying it too :D <33

[monstersinthecosmos]

News that may interest you: asexual podcast duo The Ace Couple just released part 1 (of 2) of their AMC IWTV breakdown! I really like these podcasters’ style of media discussion in general—it’s detailed and analytic but also consistently funny and conversational—and I highly recommend this episode. Still just as excited for your written overview of asexuality in VC, whenever that happens :)

Oh wow, this is so cool! Thank you for sharing!

I listened to the episode and it really was a great critique of ways the show erased the asexuality, and I think it was also a really nice overview of the allosexual attitude I see in fandom a lot. Oddly enough, coming from a more casual/mainstream perspective and not like a DEEP FANDOM NERD IN THE TUMBLR TRENCHES perspective ahaha. Like they brought up reviews from gay men about how good the changes were and it kinda brushed upon some of the bullshit I’ve had to navigate by discussing this topic on Tumblr for years.

Something I think they summed up really well was the concept that the show changed the vampires from “broadly queer” to “explicitly gay” and that really nails it on the head I think.

At some point I do want to write some more posts about this, especially if I can reread the books this year I want to take time to like share and discuss some of the passages that are explicitly ace to me and build my case for the ace read. I’m guilty of bringing it up when it gets framed as an argument against acephobia and I apologize!!!!!!! We deserve to talk about this without having to disclaim that we deserve to be here or having to use it as a counter argument to acephobic garbage. Unfortunately, fandom has a great track record for leaving me ignorant comments or sending anons every time the topic comes up so I feel like I’m always defending it and not just enjoying it and giving it its own space. Sorry!!!!!!!

So to do that some more LMAO. (Sorry!)

I’ve said before like, I really do understand that the mainstream maybe needs the visual clues to understand the romance, but personally one of my huge complaints about the show is that there wasn’t actually a whole lot of intimacy and romance between them. Like, we see them fuck, but there’s barely any warmth between them. I went the whole season not really understanding what Louis saw in him. And I was confused what the show was trying to say, because while I understand that we can also see this as “Louis is not being truthful about their relationship” (aided by the one cute moment being Claudia’s POV and not from Louis himself), Daniel’s remark that Louis was describing Lestat as his soulmate really threw me. Like, I wasn’t getting that from the story they were showing us at all.

So like, could they have shown romance and intimacy without sex? Of course. They chose not to. I appreciate and understand that it’s a win to show gay sex on mainstream TV, but I personally found it underwhelming as a choice for this particular story/series. The main thesis here is ROMANCE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE SEX. YOU CAN SHOW ROMANCE IN WAYS THAT ARE NOT SEX.

I don’t buy the pushback about asexuality somehow sanitizing the romance; in fact, that’s a fucking ignorant thing to say. I’ve had more than one person try to level me with this argument and I’m just not buying it. And as much as I think the mainstream is like centuries away from understand/accepting asexuality, it’s such a fucking problem even within the queer community.

✨Asexuals are queer. The characters are not less queer if they are asexual.✨

This talking point always tells me that someone either doesn’t believe aces belong in the queer community, or it tells me that the person just has an extremely fundamental misunderstanding of what asexuality is and isn’t.

But it’s the same way the heteros read IWTV and didn’t realize it was queer; I often think that allos in fandom do the same by missing the ace read.

And like, I’ve said this 100 times. It’s murky enough that I don’t think it’s worth arguing to death; I understand there is a bit of wiggle room. But that also means that shutting DOWN ace reads is ignorant as hell and frankly it’s pretty fuckin rude.

Something the podcast brought up that I don’t think I’ve given enough credit to is the idea that like Anne Rice’s writing is so SENSUOUS like, we can all agree that her vampires get turned and suddenly EVERYTHING is so heightened, like, they wanna touch velvet and cry at music and stare at buttons. DON’T WE THINK THEY’D BE CRAZY ABOUT SEX TOO? IF THEY WERE ALLO?????????? Hmm. Especially coming from an erotica writer like if she wanted them to fuck they would've fucked. (((Insert side essay about guilt/pleasure/Catholicism/etc don't @ me I don't got time today)))

Dgkjas sigh anyway

I’d really like to talk soon about the symbolism of drinking blood equating to sex and how because it’s not literal, IT IS NOT LITERAL. And how that’s no different from ace people finding ways around intimacy that are also not literally sex. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately haha but again I don’t want to like, waste another ace post by wrapping it in discourse. We can have those conversations without having to defend our existence LOL. PUT A PIN IN THIS, REMIND ME TO BRING IT UP AT A LATER DATE AWAY FROM THE HATERS.  

[limetameta]

this started as a meme but turned into an emotional rollercoaster 🎢 and then an uplifting story about mental health?

So not that anyone asked but the thesis is going well which is why i am rewriting retired prometheus lmao

Stuff gets really mentally unhealthy down there

There are 15 google docs full of seperate chapters because bestie's laptop crashed when i tried to put her on the complete rp google doc???? My story kills laptops, what does yours do?

Bestie made a comment that the google doc chapters 1 through 7 is 100 pages long. And only chapter 1 is edited.

We put RP into that word count to page count converter and it says that the entire story is like 1200 pages or something. In comic sans it's like 1500 I think. Which we found delightful.

None of the chapters are updated yet on ao3 but it will end up longer lmao because i am adding scenes to help with pacing. Also to tie in the side stories and prequels.

All of this started because it's finally passed enough time since i wrote the ending that i can look at it objectively. Some parts of the story are very good and don't need as much rehauling though there are still those that haunt me.

There's this arc i dubbed The fucked arc in the story and i was going through quite possibly the worst part of my life and the writing is ineligible. I barely understand what's happening there. The sentence structure is all over the place. I only vividly remember not sleeping nights and wondering if I was supposed to kill myself and since the answer was yes, if I was going to do it tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. But I didn't want to die until I had finished retired prometheus, so i continued.

The writing in the fucked arc is bad, the content inside the writing is very vivid and heavy and why the folks who read my works endured until the writing got better again. I think about every review that encouraged me. I held onto those reviews like a lifeline and said: Well I promised I'd see this through. So I can't really end it yet. Abraxas and Tom haven't reunited yet for fucks sake *me wading through shitty sentences and awful pacing and a heinous mental breakdown* I need the toxic gays to kiss goddammit!

By the time I actually finished RP I had gotten into therapy and sorta healed. I say sorta because I never actually shook off what happened to me that year. I just kept thinking about it much less. But when I would remember it I would be consumed by my thoughts and I wouldn't really be able to get anything done.

Really the weirdest part was I thought that I was on a timer. Like I ever listened to timers to begin with. But I really rushed the updates like Hamilton in that Non stop song. Because I didn't know if I'd be alive to see the next update. If I'd jump in front of a car or if I'd drown in the sea off the coast of a beach I frequented.

Every big hiatus you'd see in retired prometheus on that chapter index page represents this really low point in my life. Because I only thrive in creative works when I am okay. When I am not deeply unwell. Back then I was.

I didn't really think about what others would say, but I only kept thinking about what a hassle it would be to kms. Though dying would be better than living on. Like that justice statue I'd be weighing the pros and cons of dying to myself. I'd try to get myself to have enough bravery to do it only to falter at the last second and be like as long as nobody knows why I want to do it, I can still pretend like my life isn't over. I can still smile through it and no one will be able to tell but me.

There's a photograph a friend of mine took with her professional camera of me from the summer of the fucked arc and I look like I'm ten years older than I am now. You could really just see the stress. Maybe my friend couldn't or she didn't know what I usually smiled like. I know my own honest smile and that's not something I can expect others to know. But my god I don't think I've ever been in more pain than I was then. Pro tip: don't zoom in on photos of yourself if you're going thru it! I personally think being a chain smoker for 30 years would have given me a kinder face.

Anyway writing would kind of be an excuse for me. So even if I hated everything i was writing I'd still post it because I didn't want retired prometheus to end up unfinished.

On so many occasions I bemoaned to bestie if I would ever finish writing retired prometheus because it was a ball and chain tying me to life. But also i kinda really did want to complete one project (ignores tens of tens of finished stories because they're not retired prometheus and they'll never be retired prometheus)

Then to add salt to injury my best friend not bestie kills herself a year later and I'm left like that pikachu meme going Hey Now! Hey! HEY NOW YOUNG MAN!

I felt like a poser because I was out there just thinking things and she was out there DOING IT!

A grief like nothing I had ever experienced struck me. I didn't know a person was able to feel such emotions until that moment. It was razing. It ruined every thought I had.

I realised such a lovely thing that at the time I hated: her death had shocked me out of my apathy. It thrust me into anger. Into something so deeply tangible I was struggling to accept it. She would never be someone I could hug again. Yet she thrust me back into life with such a vice grip I can feel her hands on my shoulders even now.

The people around me couldn't understand what I was going through. They saw me for the first time as someone at risk, because, if a close friend of mine died - then that, in this small minded country, meant that there was a cult going on. That my friend had not killed herself because she didn't see a way out but because she'd been conditioned to do it.

That because she had a rainbow in her Instagram bio and followed queer people. That's why she killed herself. Because queers in the Balkan remain a sect. A predatory group of people who are going to hurt your children and brainwash them.

I didn't want to kill myself anymore. If only because I had finally unlocked spite. Anger and spite got me on a bus. Secretly. My friend didn't tell anyone she was taking a day off work. I didn't tell anyone i was taking a day off work. My friend didn't tell anyone she was going on a bus to the tallest Bridge in our country. She was dead set on never coming back. And she knew we'd try to stop her. I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I knew my mother would scream at me. Just as she screamed at me in fear that I was going to be next.

Being put on the spotlight like that, for all the wrong reasons, made me want to do something I'd been afraid of doing for years.

I got on a bus that day because I was so tired of the Balkan. I was so tired of living in a place that was hell bent on making me feel worthless.

I got off the bus and walked towards a building not too far from the bus stop. Not too far from where I lived even. But I was wearing headphones and sunglasses and a hat and even a scarf. As I looked in the mirror in the hallway I thought that I'd dressed up just as I'd dressed Grindelwald in the Intermission chapters while he was running from the aurors.

If I had killed a person I would not have taken such effort to concealing my identity.

But where I had gone was a crime, you see. Not in a legal sense. But in a sense of *belief*.

What my friend had done could not be judged because she was dead and she didn't care for it anymore.

I could be judged. And I would be judged. Because that was the country I lived in. With the people I lived with. Who are scared to learn better. Who cling to the belief that what their parents know is good and what their parents know was even better.

Perhaps it would have been better for my family if I did kill myself than subject them to this humiliation?

It was summer. Not the summer of the fucked arc, but the fucked arc was still going. I had stopped asking bestie if would finish rp and if I would just get this stupid arc over. She told me I would. I didn't believe her.

My hand was shaking as I knocked on the door. Inside I introduced myself and said I had sent an email. From a burner email with a fake name. I did not want to give out my full name. But I had to. So I did.

Because not feeling anything was something I had accustomed myself to. Feeling so many things to such a degree as I had at the time was worse. I needed help.

HELP! Somebody! NOT JUST ANYBODY! HELP-

Naturally it only took all of 5 minutes for me to be cured of my mental illness and trauma. The therapist was a pro. And I was a writer with a flare for the dramatic.

Nudge nudge wink wink.

No, it took 5 minutes for me to breakdown about my friend killing herself.

5 minutes of me making jokes about trying therapy. 5 minutes of me trying to make light of the situation. 5 minutes of me being on the verge of tears and refusing to break down and be weak. Because I was better than everyone else who really needed therapy, you know. I wasn't mentally ill. I was just going through a tough time.

Mental illness was worse than if I killed myself. If I killed myself I could get away with being a drug addict. Anything was better than being mentally ill in the Balkan.

My therapist, like 5 minutes in: honestly I think everyone in the Balkan is mentally ill its just that nobody is getting any help for it.

Me thinking of every war this country has gone through only a 100 years back. I let a bunch of untreated mentally ill clowns hold me back from asking for help.

And for what???

Judgement???

I was doing something that took so much more bravery than killing myself would have taken. I was doing something no one in my family, for as long as my line has existed, has ever done: I was going to therapy.

I wasn't drinking rakija until I couldn't see. I wasn't smoking until my lungs gave out. I wasn't starving myself. I wasn't flinging myself from one emotion till the next and making others walk around egg shells around me.

It wouldn't be months until I'd tell my mother I was seeing a therapist, because this was a secret still. As if I was having an affair, I would lie and say I was going to the beach or that I was going drinking with friends. And I would take my bus. In the opposite direction both metaphorically and literally to the one my friend took when she decided to end her life.

The therapist was kind. She still is. But I'm glad she was the one who took me on. I didn't tell her about what happened to me, about why the fucked arc is so badly written. I couldn't get the words out of my mouth, my teeth were so gritted. So instead I talked about other fires that needed putting out.

And I thrived creatively. I wrote the ugliest things I've ever written and I loved it. I loved every word I was putting out there. I felt like myself again.

When my mother learned I was going to therapy she started shouting: Are you only going there to complain about what a terrible mother I am?

And I just remember saying: you *and* dad.

Much like you can expect, slavic parents do not understand that therapy is real and helpful. They think that this is like a drug. That if I become addicted to therapy I will not be able to function in society without having to consult my therapist, drink my therapy, and become a shell of myself.

After years of seeing an apathetic ghost, no doubt she blamed therapy for my anger and my outbursts and my having emotions. I, for one, blamed the bitch who killed herself and got me in this mess.

I swear to god this started as a meme post! Please believe me I had no intention of sitting down for hours on the couch to write this. I put on a dungeon and dragons episode from dimension 20 for fucks sake.

My mother is still against therapy. If I had a father I'd ask. But he'd probably say that writing was his therapy. Just like retired prometheus had been mine. No wonder he writes like shit.

A year later I finished retired prometheus and decided I wouldn't look back. Especially because I think the ending bummed a lot of folks out. And I was like you don't know what being bummed out is you fuckers you came to the mentally ill story and got to the end and you won't even leave a review shame on you don't you know I used to use those as a reason to live. Lmaooo actually just like that Key and Peele skit with the give a dollar save a child shtick. Leave a review and I live another day.

This is the part where we de-escalated this post somehow.

I need to go to work tomorrow. I need to sleep.

This rewrite was a long time coming. Because I know I can do better. I have grown so much more as a writer and I want that to be reflected in a story that is like an autobiography to me. I look at a chapter, at a line, and I know what people i used to hang out with. I know which cafes or bars i used to frequent. I read an inside joke and I laugh.

I don't want the fucked arc to hold me back. I know I can make it better.

But I can only do so now after years have passed. After I know with utmost certainty that I am okay.

It wouldn't really be until this year that I felt completely unburdened by the shit I was going through that year when the fucked arc began. So kind of as a commemoration to that I'm rewriting Retired Prometheus.

Gonna give yall some of those dvd menu extra scenes now because ur gonna finally read the deluxe edition.

[jaynovz]

writing pattern game

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns! (from most recent to least recent, starting from the top)

tagged by @lichfucker, thank you <33

c'mon baby, let's fall in love in october:

“I cannot believe you have gotten me lost in this goddamn corn maze,” Flint grumbles.

2. the only way out is way down:

Silver's own words come back to him, resounding in his skull like a tolled bell, far louder than when he delivered them the day before.

3. sipping on your lips, hanging on by a thread:

Flint awakens in his cabin the day after setting sail for the Urca with a chest somehow as miraculously full as a nursing mother, and wonders if he’s actually fucking cursed.

4. imagine being loved by me:

Endless black stone, craggy and eroding, with indecipherable symbols crawling up the sides.

5. I'll loosen my strings to feel more like you:

I’d come back to the surgery a mess, as rattled as ice in a glass and ranting up a storm.

6. my greedy little heart won't do without you:

Silver drifts back to consciousness in long moments, time stretching out sticky as molasses as he takes stock of himself.

7. you spoke my language and touched my limbs:

Schick, schick.

8. did the twin flame bruise paint you blue:

Silver cups his hand around the flare of a cigarette, tucked into the alcove beside a building.

9. some ancient call:

The droning of the foghorn is driving Stede absolutely batty.

10. for that devious dance between you and me:

After the utter nightmare that was battling the Andromache, Flint is weary beyond belief.

--

So what I find hilarious is that because I spent so long on Break Up AU, we've managed to hit four different fandoms here, and circled all the way back around to ANOTHER Silverflint mod au with the Halloween fic, lmao.

2. is weird bc the first line is a Silver quote directly from the show. But the real first line that *I* wrote is what I put down.

My pattern is I have the range darling? Idk, uh, I think I start out very clearly, establishing the thesis/concept as soon as possible, sometimes that is done with setting but sometimes it's just, as with milkingfic, yknow, there it is. But coming away with that I do just have the range and I largely just adapt the intro to what the story needs. I've gotten a lot better at them :)))

[we-are-inevitable]

Your ask box is my kingdom, I am taking it over

But anyway I so badly want your thoughts on Jack and Davey in my college prof au please please please I know I haven't spoken about it on tumblr yet except from a little bit but I love your Javid so yeah

-has watched high school musical thank you very much

ok ok @roideny obvi this is your au but here are my Very Important thoughts bc i love them Very Much ugh. in love w them

David Jacobs-Kelly:

44 years old, born in ‘79

Undergrad: majored in English, minored in Creative Writing

Masters: Poetics and Theory AdvC- NYU

Doctorate: English and American Literature, thesis is over gender and sexuality in Shakespeare

he’s been Dr. Jacobs-Kelly for about seventeen years by the time the story takes place!

as a prof, he teaches a comp class, an honors comp (Critical Analysis and Writing), and some creative writing/poetry courses! he’s a very busy man.

he meets Race, Albert, and Finch because they’re students in his comp class!

when he’s not teaching, he’s really involved in the local queer scene. i feel like he’s a staple at drag brunches and pride celebrations; he’s not a huge club fan anymore but he still loves being Involved. growing up during the aids crisis is traumatizing at the least, and im sure he lost a few friends, so he stays up to date in the queer stuff to sort of honor them.

he marries jack in 2011 when gay marriage is legalized in new york!

he’s a huge shakespeare fan, as seen by his phd studies. he has a hamlet-inspired tattoo because he’s gay

tbh he probably has a cat named after shakespeare (they have two cats im calling it now. shakespeare and bryan, name courtesy of jack)

he and jack don’t have any kids, but he’s a loving fun uncle for Les and Sarah’s respective kids!

Jack Jacobs-Kelly:

45 years old, born in ‘78

Undergrad: Studio Art! but he dropped out after a semester <33

he just decided that college wasn’t for him. why pay money for something he doesn’t need?

he goes straight into a set design apprenticeship that medda helps him get! medda is his adoptive mom, so he’s been around queer spaces and theatre since he was around 15. he loves it, it’s his home

that being said he probably sells his own paintings and maybe does mural work on the side, he likes to keep busy and is invested in the art scene, and he meets davey when davey moves to New York for his masters! he’s the reason davey stays in NYC <33

he’s very eccentric, and very much doesn’t give a fuck. he’s a black queer man- the universe already nerfed him, so why worry about anything else? i can see him being the really go-with-the-flow husband to davey’s more tight-strung academic vibe. they really balance each other out

again, they don’t have kids, but i feel like this jack is very much For The Youths? i can see him volunteering a lot, working for organizations that help troubled kids get into the arts— i feel like it’s his passion project that makes him feel better when davey is busy at the university all day. in another life he’s a foster parent, but he and davey just don’t have the lifestyle to foster, so he focuses his energy elsewhere!

whenever davey “adopts” some freshmen he’s always on board. he really hits it off with Albert!

not as involved in the queer scene as davey, but his career is literally in musical theatre set design, so even if he’s not in the queer scene he’s In The Queer Scene

i don’t wanna talk about him losing medda but i can see him eventually inheriting the theater!

he loves his nieces and nephews! he’s a big family guy

Extra Thoughts:

jack and davey are a pair. they rarely go anywhere outside of work without each other, and they’re so, SO in love.

jack pretty regularly comes to see Davey while he’s at work; he’ll bring him lunch to office hours and pop in to watch him lecture from time to time.

davey attends the opening night of every show jack works on <33

their apartment is always a mess LMAO. davey has papers and books everywhere, there’s paint on the floor, brushes all over the place— it’s what happens when you cross a tired academic and an adhd creative. shit happens.

they actually stay pretty hip and on-trend? idk how it happens but jack is rlly good with youth culture and davey is on top of gay culture so like. yeah they work.

over summers and breaks, they travel a lot! not anything crazy expensive— they love international travel, but they’re also a big fan of road trips and rental cars!

they are my FAVORITES and i love them so much

[daakjenaar]

Manic creativity in the best cRPG

I’m not doing anything else with this Tumblr account, so I’ll post my inane ramblings instead.

There is a fine line to walk when trying to fit so many ideas into one video game. Walk too far on the side of serious, realistic content, and you’ve brewed a modern Larian Studios game where an insistence on being down-to-earth is utterly destroyed by a comic-relief encounter with some sort of whimsical chicken in between body horror and misery. Or to a lesser extent, have an otherwise mostly serious story get derailed by something lighthearted but altogether harmless, as is the experience with so much of Fallout 2. Walk too far to the side of cartoony, goofy subject matter, however, and watch as your writing becomes the wrong kind of laughable the moment you try to get mature. See the Borderlands series for a fine example.

I just made someone angry with each of those takes, so moving on.

There are ways to maintain a balance. The simplest way is to stick to one side and cut out everything that doesn’t fit, to curate a game to be a cohesive experience. As much as it’s a shame that so much of Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2 was forced to be cut, for all its faults, the game is a serious take on a classic, perhaps overdone franchise with a clear thesis. The balance between comedy and maturity can be achieved, of course, but that is easier said than done. As much as I hate to praise the works of Chris Avellone, I must cite a second project he worked on, every terminally online person’s most formative roleplaying game. Fallout: New Vegas is by no means a flawless game, I’m still amazed that the same quest can jump between the absurdity of helping a bunch of zombies piloting prop rockets to their holy land, and genuinely feeling conflicted about their treatment of their non-ghoul scientist ally. Of course the ghouls need these model rockets, that makes perfect sense, but did they need to gaslight this poor human into helping them? The quest I’m citing is the go-to for anyone singing the game’s praises, but any number of the game’s regions are host to the same kind of mix of the two tones. With high-enough quality in your writing, even the most disparate vibes can mesh.

But that’s a high bar. Saying to “just write good enough to make it work, lmao” is useless advice. Writing is exceedingly difficult, and good writing even moreso. So what if you try doing everything at once? Every idea, regardless of cohesiveness, coherency, sometimes even quality, all thrown into a bizarre soup of raw creativity.

If that sounds like a good time, then I urge you to get yourself a copy of Wasteland 3. All at once, it is one of the most engaging, fascinating, and baffling video games I have ever played. A point where it crosses the threshold from ‘a few weird ideas’ to a display of sheer, manic creativity. The kind of game where I encountered a weaponized statue of Ronald Reagan and the robot anarchist commune said statue is fighting. Where many quests center around a society of people named the ‘Monster Army’, who wear outfits taken from an off-brand Spirit Halloween and inhabit an old, buried mall. All the while, this Monster Army is under constant threat from a bunch of crazed clown-themed bandits who bring pain and destruction wherever they go. A partially-mechanized army of well-organized raiders seek to pillage and claim the post-apocalyptic snow-swept lands of Colorado, lands currently led by a man who wields a comically large warhammer wrapped with an American flag, sitting upon a throne of guns.

Wasteland 3 is a truly, genuinely bizarre title. At every turn, the game has some new idea to throw at you. The tone is so erratic that there really is no tone anymore. In its own way, it is such a strange and incoherent game that it comes full circle into making perfect sense. The most faithful attempt at recreating a classic psychedelic film in a game format. The game’s own drug imagery aside, every facet of its story seems to be focused on baffling and throwing off the player. The gameplay itself is quite good as far as cRPGs go, but the story is why the game has stuck with me so strongly for well over a year after playing it. Even when the game gets serious, there’s still an air of delirium. Sure, everything seems to be making sense now, but when is this important character going to do something fucking weird? I know it’ll happen, I’m just waiting. On paper, Wasteland 3 should be a mess, incoherent in all of the worst ways, and a cautionary tale. In contrast, though, it broke the idea of coherency so hard that it makes perfect sense. You just need to be in the right mindset to pick up on it, the kind of mindset you get in after clearing out a clown-bandit circus camp or watching a (good) Ralph Bakshi movie. 

There are absolutely points being made, satires to be found among the bizarre vignettes, and moments that justify the game’s strangeness. I’m sure that the murderous Reagan statue’s saying something witty about America, and I can’t help but look for some meaning in the Patriarch of Colorado and his throne of guns. A game written by a more self-serious writer might try to add a few more layers of abstraction, but Wasteland 3 dares to ask the most important question.

With a sufficiently large gun, can I kill Ronald Reagan? If you know anything about writing essays and wish to malign my sloppiness here, please direct unto me your rage in great detail. I am a failed arts student, and thus too lazy to properly structure arguments.

[sysakiddo]

first I'd like to say that I adoreeee the diplomacy au to bitsss (gives me hope for my future<33) I am wodering if you're using like your own experiences for inspo/ basing it off the way it kinda works for whatever country you're from or its mostly imaginary? as a fellow IR survivor and current victim of embassy internships, it's soooo different from what I have seen (ofc this is a work of fiction but like where I've interned it was so rare to speak with the Ambassador 1on1 bcz you're just some random kid, to let alone go on vacation with him) so I'm like curious if it's maybe different where you're from or you're just playing it up for the sake of entertainment? sorry for the long ask lmao <333

heyyy!! thank you SO MUCH for this ask and I feel absolutely giddy about the fact that a fellow IR survivor reads my shit 🧡 (and also scared I'm going to write something incredibly lame) So, I originally started writing from my Parisian experience. But of course, you are totally right about the reality of being an intern - I've rarely ever seen our ambassador and our communication mostly consisted of the cringiest mails one can imagine (from HIS side). However, as I said here, my supervisor was the loveliest woman who really pushed me to do my best and gave me a lot of lessons about being a woman in the diplomatic world. We often had lunch/dinner together + with her husband (who was our economic diplomat and the funniest lad) and kept in touch after I left and she helped me a lot with my thesis. So it wasn't the ambassador directly but a diplomat nonetheless who took me under their wing and guided me through what definitely was the worst year of my life so far. BUT I heard some crazy stories from smaller (like 5 staff members small) embassies where the ambassadors are all buddy buddy with the interns and frequently take them out etc. just because they are so bored in their designated countries lmao. (my country is small and has some small-ass embassies, mainly in Africa) So yes, Anne/Max thingy is all made up and only here for the plot lmao. In this story, it's Daniel's situation (he has no idea if there are any interns at his embassy at the moment) which is the og real one. How is your internship going??? I need the gossip bestie 👀

thank you so much for this ask and I hope I answered coherently enough!! if you have any more questions feel free to ask 🧡🧡

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

s2ep5 troublemaker

and now i'm going out of order from the netflix list bc whoever was releasing the episodes in the u.s. decided to do the bananas thing and release an episode between a two-parter

the two-parter i'm saving for the weekend when i can stay up until two complaining about it (bc i'm pretty sure chloe gets a miraculous in these) and not have to worry too much about catching up on sleep bc i can take naps during the day

anyway i didn't like this episode, but at this point i feel like a broken record. and it's not just not liking the episode, but it's about a lot of critiques i have of the show itself.

the set-up was, once again, contrived. if you're hosting someone at your house, like anyone, not even a superstar, and they've never been there, and they ask for the bathroom--why would you say "it's upstairs." and no either 1) specify exactly where it is and how to get there or 2) go up there yourself. esp since it seems like they live at least two stories above the bakery? (i originally thought it was right above the bakery, but i guess i was wrong. do they own the whole building? who lives right above the bakery?)

like in a normal world, no one would just vaguely hand-wave like that. esp if you don't want ppl snooping around your personal room bc they went through the wrong door.

but the fact that it was marinette's room continues the patter of the writers punishing her for existing so that's not great.

it was frustrating how they treated marinette's anxiety over it as well, and that tikki was so dismissive. it felt more like a joke to the writers than something that would actually be incredibly embarrassing.

but i was more frustrated with the whole set-up in the first place.

the solution was creative, i'll give them that. but it was also stupid.

but i will give them having troublemaker take one of ladybug's earrings. that always actually makes me instinctively tense. it's just so good--that slow change back as her earrings beep. it's truly tense. i wonder if they'll ever go anywhere with that.

i always wonder what it looks like for chat noir, since he just has the one ring.

there was something else in the episode that they set up that i wondered if they might go anywhere with it, but i can't remember what it was lmao. i don't think they will. i don't think the writers are that good at their job.

oh yeah, i hated sabine doing those kung fu moves under the guise of "strong independent woman." bc it turned very quickly into racism.

i hate to say this, but i actually really like adrien's budding friendship with marinette. it seems like sometimes he listens to her. though, the fact that he only listen when it involves something he's intimately involved in, like fashion and modeling, i guess it's a bit of a moot point. outside the rest of the narrative, i actually enjoyed the scenes when he's just being a pal to marinette. it was actually sweet.

i just wish marinette could be the same. i really wish her crush on adrien didn't exist and they could just exist as good friends, bc i think they would actually be really good as friends. this is lukanette propaganda, yes.

i really need to start writing these down as i go, bc i keep losing the plot. mostly bc this show doesn't stay in my head for very long. my brain has better things to be thinking about. at this point, the only reason i'm posting about it now is bc of the fact that i'm considering of making a video essay and i figure i should document as much as i can so i can form the thesis of the video essay.

oh yeah, and glad to see chat noir's cataclysm was actually useful this time.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

@red-riding-wood Red, I think we can safely say that you've just written one of if not THE most definitive thesis papers on Scarecrow smut lmao 😂

But seriously, thank you so much for everything you've said, and for taking the time to type all this up!! I am always so excited to hear your thoughts, and you spoil me every time!

I had a lot of fun writing this and really trying to get into the reader's head, while making sure that her delusions carried into the narration. I also don't see the female character written as "the obsessed one" very often, so this was a fun challenge!

I found the reader character really interesting as I was writing; it was kind of one of those situations where you feel like you as the author learn a lot about the character as the story progresses. I think part of her does know that what she's doing is "not normal" but she's so far gone in her obsession that she doesn't let that stop her from going through with her plan. She's thought about it for so long that there's almost no longer an option to not go through with it. And she really has convinced herself that this is somehow a "good" thing to do, no matter how wrong it may look on the surface. Because her "love" for Crane is so pure and true that how could it be a bad thing to show him?

And Crane, of course, is twisted and delusional in his own way as well. It takes a special kind of person to sass their way out of a situation like he can lol. He's so self-obsessed that he barely even flinches when he realizes the reader is obsessed with him, and immediately spins things around for his own gain. I loved writing their dynamic because it's so different from the more typical "innocent" reader and dark/evil Crane. Which I also love reading and writing, of course, but when they're both morally gray (at best lol) they can play off of each other in some really fun ways.

To answer your question about who Crane was expecting (or at least wouldn't be surprised to find breaking into his hotel room) I didn't have a super specific scenario in mind. Just generic, Crane "dealing with the mob"/owing them money, probably related to smuggling fear toxin. I included that bit mainly to steer the scene of them "meeting" in the emotional direction I wanted. So that Crane could come into the situation with a calmer demeanor, as opposed to having a more typical, fearful reaction like "what's going on - who's there?" I wanted this interaction to tie back to his sense of self importance that pops up throughout the story. So, he first assumes that he knows exactly what's going on, and then when he realizes he doesn't, he immediately tries to intimidate and take control of things to compensate.

I also love the scene of her talking about Crane to Crane lol. That's definitely a hint of my own personality coming through; as I'm sure you know very well, I love to ramble about things I'm passionate about. And there's just a delicious irony in the reader being so obsessed that she doesn't even realize how weird it is to go off on a rant about the person she's stalking TO that person...

The struggle for control over the situation is also a big theme here, of course, and I enjoy writing themes like that because I also tend to be a bit of a control freak haha. The reader's own internal struggle was challenging but fun to write, where she starts out believing that everything will go according to plan (she's got his room number, knows he'll be at dinner, and has her syringe all ready to go - check, check, check), is quickly forced to realize that's not going to be the case, and then has to reconcile her view of the whole situation and ends up readily accepting Crane's explanation that she "wanted it to go like this" all along.

Ugh, I need to stop rambling lol. I'm so glad you liked this!! I love these two; they were so much fun to write.

And I wholeheartedly accept your offering and will be writing more fucked up stories lmao ❤️

Predator

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: You are obsessed with Jonathan Crane. And tonight, you're finally going to show him just how much you love him - even if he might not remember the encounter. But when things don't go according to plan, you are the one forced to deal with the consequences. Not that you're complaining...

Warnings: DUB-CON smut (the con is extremely dub on both sides here, folks), mentions of non-con, stalking, yandere!reader, loss of control, mind games, needles, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex work, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, degradation, praise, name-calling, multiple orgasms

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your heels tap against the tile, clicking like a raptor’s talons, as you make your way across the hotel lobby. You smile, leaning over the counter to talk to the concierge, and try to look a little embarrassed.

“I'm so sorry to bother you,” you say. The hotel clerk is staring, not quite subtly, at your breasts, which is exactly where you want him to look. “But I seem to have lost my room key. May I have another one?”

The clerk collects himself; puts on his business voice as his fingers poise above his keyboard.

“Of course,” he replies. “Name on the reservation?”

“Crane. Jonathan.”

The clerk types rapidly for a moment, and then looks back at you.

“I'm sorry, miss, but I'm only showing one person on this reservation. You're not, ah…”

“Mmm.” You smile. “My boyfriend is here on a business trip. Speaking at the big conference in town. I'm not… exactly supposed to be here with him. I'm sure he wouldn't have told his work I'd be staying with him.”

Your voice drops just a bit lower, hinting at conspiracy. You consider winking, but decide against it. No need to oversell things.

“Boyfriend. Is that right?” the hotel clerk drawls. He looks you up and down briefly.

Rage flashes white hot behind your eyes, there and gone too fast for him to notice. This man assumes that you're some kind of prostitute. You can see it on his face, and it angers you. You're infuriated that he doesn't believe what you’ve told him. Though of course, it's not as if you're telling the truth. 

“That's right,” you agree, pleasantly. “And I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm dying to get out of this dress.”

You only have to act a little. The tight black dress you're wearing really is uncomfortable, but to play the part you have to dress the part. And besides, you want to look your best tonight.

The image of you undressing seems to be enough to convince the man, who turns back to his computer and starts typing again. You're not proud of throwing yourself around like this. Honestly, you would prefer it if no one but Crane got to enjoy you tonight - even if having him actually see you would throw a wrench into your plans. But you have to do what it takes to get your prize, and you're not above using the tactics that work.

“Could you just confirm the room number for me?” asks the hotel clerk, in a last-ditch effort to preserve some of his professionalism.

“Three-oh-three,” you say with a smile.

The clerk hands over a key card.

“Have a nice night,” he tells you.

You thank him. Snatch the card and walk away, toward the elevators that are waiting like steel traps at the other end of the lobby. That was easier than it should have been. You tuck the card safely into your purse, next to the little syringe and the three condoms. Traveling light tonight. The doors open as you reach the first elevator, as if they were waiting for you.

You smile.

~*~

You feel your heart beating heavy in your chest when the elevator doors finally open on your floor. Well, not your floor, really, but Crane’s floor. You've invited yourself, but that doesn't make what's about to happen tonight any less special. 

Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, the numbers above the peephole staring back at you as you pause for a moment. You're almost lightheaded, just from being here, so close to fulfilling the dream you've had for months.

Jonathan Crane. A genius. A visionary. And the man at the center of your every fantasy. For too long, you've watched him from afar - at first not daring to let yourself dream of having him, but then, slowly, realizing that you have no life without him. That he is the center of your universe, and that your purpose is to trail after him like a desperate satellite. Once you knew that, it became impossible not to be with him. Unbearable to bear spending every day on his periphery when all you wanted was him, him, him. 

You steady yourself. Close your eyes for a few seconds just to savor it. Just being here. Then, you take the card out of your purse and swipe it, quickly tucking it back away before you open the door. The handle turns easily - why wouldn’t it, after all? You are, clearly, meant to be here - despite the fact that you are most certainly not supposed to be here. You step into the room, letting the door close behind you, and take another moment to bask.

“You know, I’d really prefer if you’d knock,” says a voice, suddenly coming from inside the room.

From where you’re standing you can’t see much, but you freeze, instantly. You’re stuck in that strange little hallway that seems to be at the entrance of every hotel room, with just a few coat hangers and a full-length mirror for company. And you can’t move because that’s his voice coming from around the corner. You would recognize it anywhere.

As you stand frozen, two things occur to you. One: it’s strange that Crane sounds like he’s expecting someone. And two: it’s even stranger that he’s here. His schedule says he’s at one of the conference’s dinners right now. You were supposed to have time to prepare. This is not going according to plan.

“I told you,” says a slightly annoyed Crane, his voice getting closer, “that I’d have your money tomorrow. So if you could just-”

His words cut off as he sees you, clearly not whoever he was expecting, and your heart skips at least three beats as you finally come face to face with him. 

“Who are you?” he asks, reasonably.

“O-oh, I’m… terribly sorry,” you reply. Your heart is now hammering at a million miles a minute, making up for lost time. You feel yourself fumbling for words, but manage to wrestle control of your tongue. “I must have the wrong room.”

Crane rakes his eyes over you suspiciously. You can see from the tilt of his head that he doesn’t buy it, and now he’s sizing you up as a threat. You let yourself swoon for just a moment. He’s so intelligent. This is exactly why you’d planned to lie in wait for him; you could never outsmart him and you very likely also couldn’t best him in a fight. Not that you’d ever want it to come to that, but if it did… Well, you doubt you’d be able to keep your mind on self preservation for very long once he got his hands on you.

��How did you get in here?” he presses.

“This is the room they gave me,” you explain. “There must have been some kind of mixup at the front desk.”

It's a slightly different story than the first, but hopefully a more believable one. You open your purse; reach in to pull out the key card and show him. Or maybe you'll go for the syringe. But before your fingers can wrap around anything, Crane snatches your purse and turns swiftly on his heel.

“Hey!”

You follow after him as he strides to the large bed, and dumps out the purse’s contents. The syringe, the condoms, and a few errant bobby pins spill out across the duvet. The key card falls to the floor.

“It’s rude to go through a woman’s purse, you know!” 

Your anger flares in his direction before you can control yourself. You bite your tongue, horrified that you've snapped at him.

“I'd say it's pretty clear that the rules of civility don't apply to you,” Crane retorts, as he reaches for the syringe. “Just what exactly were you planning to do with this?”

“That's… personal?” you mumble.

“Try again.”

God, he's so sexy. How are you supposed to concentrate on getting out of this when his voice is all graveley and dark like that, and he's staring at you with those eyes that look like they could pierce through skin and bone, and-

“Well?”

Crane is growing impatient. You scrabble together your thoughts and open your mouth to speak, plan still only half formed.

“Ah, I mean, that's my medication,” you explain. “It's for… migraines.”

“Hm, really?” Crane replies. “Then you wouldn't mind if I administered it to you.”

“No!” you say, a bit too sharply. 

He's already removed the cap from the needle, and has taken a few steps toward you when your voice rings out. He stops in his tracks, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat thunder around the room. A tense moment of silence passes, before Crane finally speaks again.

“So, this isn't your migraine medication,” he states. “And you're a strange woman who's just shown up in my hotel room, with a purse full of drugs and condoms. I'm calling security.”

Crane calmly walks to the bedside table, stabs the syringe into its wooden surface, and picks up the phone out of its cradle. Your heart rate spikes as he starts to dial.

“Dr. Crane, I don't think you should do that,” you warn.

“And why the fuck is that?”

“Because I don't want to have to tell them… who you really are.”

Crane pauses, and cocks his head at you again. You can feel yourself regaining control of the situation. Like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders; it feels good. So good that you can't help but smile at him as he scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks.

The word passes over your lips like a sin, spreading its venom over your tongue as you say it.

“Scarecrow.”

Crane's eyes widen. You feel red heat rise to your cheeks. He wasn't expecting you to have leverage, and the fact that you've managed to surprise him fills you with an immense pride. 

“Who are you?” Crane asks softly. 

“I'm a fan of your work,” you reply. It might be the first truth you've told all night.

~*~

Crane replaces the phone with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at you.

“Okay, who are you working for?” he asks. “Who sent you?”

You shake your head.

“No, no, no, Dr. Crane - I mean it,” you giggle. “I heard you speak at a different conference a few months ago, and I… Well, is it crazy to say that I fell in love?”

Crane fixes you with a glare that says, yes, it most certainly is crazy. You don't even notice as you rattle on - Jonathan Crane is your favorite subject, after all.

“From there, I wanted to learn everything about you,” you continue. “Where you live, where you work, where you shop for groceries. Some of it was easier to figure out than the rest, of course, but once I learned your schedule it became clear to me. You spend a lot of time out of the house late-late at night.”

Crane studies you carefully as you go on your monologue, but you're too wrapped up in it to care. 

“So I dug deeper, and guess what I found?” you tease. “Dr. Crane has a secret, and now it's our secret to share. You and me.”

You've closed some of the distance between you, and now Crane is so wonderfully close that you could reach out and brush your fingers against him. You resist, not wanting to scare him away, but look up at him expectantly as you wait for his reaction. You've just laid your heart bare for the first time in forever. He has that effect on you, you guess; it's impossible to deny him anything.

“So you're obsessed with me,” Crane says calmly. “I can't lie; it is kind of flattering.” He smiles. Only for a moment, before his expression turns dark. “But you still haven't told me, what the fuck were you planning to do with this?”

He gestures to the syringe, still sticking up with its needle planted in the bedside table, greenish liquid swirling inside of it. You lower your eyes, suddenly bashful. It feels so utterly silly now; you feel like you've actually started to build up a rapport with him, and you don't want to risk harming Crane’s perception of you. Still, knowing him, it will be worse for you if you don't tell the truth upfront, so you're honest yet again.

“It's a blend of a few things,” you admit. “An aphrodisiac, a relaxant, a very mild sedative. I was planning to use it on you so I could…”

“Rape me?” Crane supplies.

“Don't say it like that!” you beg. It sounds so ugly when he says it that way. “I just wanted to show you my love. I wanted to share it with you. That's not a bad thing, is it?”

You take another step toward him, desperate to show him what you mean. If only he'd let you show him. It would be so good for both of you. As you get closer, Crane backs up until he's sitting on the bed, then leaning back into the mattress. You lean down, trying not to hover over him too much, your fingers barely ghosting the sheets as you plant your arms on either side of his body.

“Please,” you whisper. Crane doesn't look afraid, but he is eyeing you carefully. “Please just let me show you?”

Crane considers the situation for a moment. You wait with bated breath, not daring to let yourself imagine what will happen if he says yes. The room spins as you forget to take in enough oxygen, and you feel yourself dip an inch closer to him.

“If I let you live out your twisted fantasy,” he begins, slowly. “You won't tell anyone about what you said earlier?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you promise, your smile immediately brightening at his words.

Crane nods, just once. Curtly.

“Fine then,” he says. Your heart explodes in your chest. “But you’re not using that syringe on me. And you're going to do all the work.”

As he's talking, he's already shrugging out of his shirt. You practically drool at the sight of his bare chest; struck with the irresistible urge to drag your fingers over it. You feel yourself smiling wildly. This is so much better than you'd ever imagined it. Your beloved is actually a willing participant! Why had you ever been prepared to settle for anything less?

Crane slowly unbuckles his belt, and then looks at you expectantly. Your fingers feel almost removed from your body as you reach out to pop the button on his pants. None of this feels real; you must be in a dream. You hope he doesn’t notice how much you’re shaking. It wouldn’t do to have him get any ideas about wrestling his way out of this.

“Let’s go through your little plan together,” says Crane, as you tug down his zipper and start to pull on his waistband. “You were going to drug me, knock me out - and then what?”

The only thing separating you from your prize now is the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. Beneath, you can tell that he’s already half hard. The realization sends a throbbing ache between your legs. The musky scent of his arousal - or maybe it’s yours - starts to seep into the room, and you lick your lips to get a taste of it like a snake.

“Was gonna get you ready for me,” you answer, already slipping into a haze of fantasy.

“How?” Crane asks.

“With my mouth…”

Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you see his cock twitch at your words. The air catches in your throat again, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths through your nose. 

“Go on, then,” Crane prods. “Show me.”

He’s sitting up slouched on the bed, arms bent just a little so he can look down at you as you bring yourself to eye level with his cock. He is definitely getting hard; you don’t even have to do anything to him, honestly. But you want to, and even more important than that - Dr. Crane is telling you to. You can’t deny him.

You pull down the thin fabric, and watch as he springs free. His cock is beautiful - just like you’d imagined it would be. There’s already a bead of precum on the tip, just begging to be licked off. You wrap your lips around him eagerly and worship the head of his cock, tasting the salty tang of him as you kiss it. Lovingly. Gently. That’s what you want to be for him as you part your lips and take him deeper, moaning around his length. 

Crane has other ideas. 

He ruts up into your mouth, letting out an absolutely sinful groan as he does it. The sound has you clenching your thighs for dear life as a wave of arousal and pressure runs through you. You want to touch yourself desperately, but know you need to hold on. There’s no way you’re going to waste the energy to get off on your own fingers tonight.

“Sorry,” Crane says. “Forgot I was supposed to be unconscious.”

You can’t reply with his cock in your mouth, but the biting sarcasm in his voice makes you feel things that are probably best left unsaid. Thank goodness you abandoned your morality a long time ago.

In direct contradiction to what he’s just said, Crane tangles a hand in your hair and starts pressing you further down onto his cock. You gag as the tip of your nose touches him, and let out a muffled whine.

“What, too much for you?” Crane laughs. “I thought you wanted to get me ready.”

You try not to whimper as you nod your head. You can feel your mascara starting to run as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and try to blink them back in. Once you’re composed enough to refocus, you start to swirl your tongue against him. Crane’s grip on the back of your head tightens, and you feel a sense of pride swell in you, pressing down the panic. This is exactly what you wanted - to make him feel good. To show him your devotion. You bob your head, pushing past the point of your own comfort to take him as deep as you can.

He lets your throat clench around him for a few minutes before he abruptly pulls you off. Your mouth makes a wet pop as it sucks around nothing, and you look up at your beloved with something that borders on sadness and lust.

“What next?” he demands. “I know you didn’t just come here to suck me off like a cheap whore.”

You stand up and try to collect yourself. Wipe the spit that’s pooled at the base of your chin. Organize your thoughts into some semblance of an intelligible response.

“Want to… to feel you inside me,” you pant.

“Of course you do,” Crane says. He has something in his hand, and he holds it up to show you. The condoms. “You even came prepared. But, let’s not pretend for even a second that you were actually going to use these.”

He throws the roll of condoms behind him, and they disappear somewhere over the side of the bed. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and Crane smirks at your disbelief. 

“It’s not fun if there’s not a little risk, right?” he says. “Don’t tell me that’s not why you came here in the first place - to get off on the thrill of doing something dangerous.”

“I… I came here for you,” you insist. 

Though it is getting harder and harder to think straight as Crane slips himself fully out of his lingering clothes. When he’s done with that, he moves on to reaching up and grabbing at the zipper on your dress. He pauses with his hands at the back of your neck.

“And what drew you to me in the first place?” he presses. “You know I’m a dangerous man. You know my deepest, darkest secret. But instead of scaring you away, it only pushes you closer. You can’t resist the fear that you feel at the thought of being near me. Wanna know something? I think, deep down, you wanted to get caught.”

Your head is already spinning too much to comprehend what he’s saying. All you know is that his voice has dropped several octaves and it’s making you incredibly, almost painfully, wet. Your eyes roll back in your head as Crane tugs at your zipper and helps you slip out of your dress. Your bra and panties are black lace, and Crane seems to admire them for a moment before unclasping the hooks and pulling off your bra.

“You’re pretty fucking twisted, but you do have a nice rack,” he comments. “I’ll let you take care of the rest.”

With shaking fingers, you slide the lacy waistband over your hips, relishing the soft scratch of fabric as it moves down your thighs. Once they’re pooled on the floor, you step delicately out of your panties, and look down at Crane, still sitting on the bed in front of you.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says. “I warned you that you’d have to do all the work.”

You straddle him, moving a bit too fast in your eagerness. You’re getting clumsy, but you don’t care. Planting your hands on his shoulders, you feel the way he glides into you as you lower yourself. So insanely good. The stretch as his cock is buried inside of you makes you see stars. You gasp, and then moan as your hips reach his.

“Feels better this way, right?” Crane teases. “A little risk always makes freaks like you cum faster.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree, barely listening to what he’s saying. 

“Go ahead and get yourself off,” Crane says. It almost sounds like a challenge. “Use me like a glorified dildo, just like you wanted.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you start moving, bouncing up and down on his cock as you chase your high. Crane stays still, letting you do all the work just like he said he would. You grind into him, desperate for friction against your clit, and wish more than anything that he’d reach up and play with your nipples. It’s a lewd thought, but you’re so far gone that you don’t care anymore, and eventually you move your hands to pinch them yourself.

The air in the room is getting hotter; thick with sex and filled with moans as you get closer and closer to your release. Crane stares at you, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. You press yourself close as you can as you grind down again.

“Gonna come!” you whine. 

And then you do; waves of pleasure crashing over you as the coil in your stomach finally lets go. Your legs shake, both your eyes squeeze shut, and you have to hold onto Crane’s shoulders to keep from falling right off the bed as you gush onto him. 

You’re panting with exertion as you come down from the high. Brain still foggy from the rush of endorphins and the elation of finally fulfilling your fantasy. And the best part is knowing that Crane got to feel all of it. The way you clenched around him; the way you screamed, shameless, as your love for him coated his cock. Getting to share the moment like this was better than you’d ever dared to dream of.

“Good girl,” Crane says. “Now do it again.”

Your eyes shoot open in disbelief. Crane looks up at you, smirking. 

“You heard me,” he growls. “You’re not done yet. I want to see you play with yourself.”

The only reply you can formulate is a moan, but Crane pays no mind to it as he grabs one of your sweaty hands and shoves it between your legs. 

“No moving, now,” he warns you. “Use your fingers and that’s it. My cock stays in you, but you don’t get to use it.”

It’s so hard not to swirl your hips, even just a little. You want so badly to feel that pressure of him, moving against your walls. Even staying still, he fills you up deliciously - but you want more. But, you do as he says and rub your clit, until you’re on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I-I’m close,” you whimper.

“That fast?” Crane taunts. “You’re really that desperate for me?”

You nod, biting your lip. You’re so close you can feel the heat rising in your chest. Your fingers press harder; your breathing goes shallow.

“Please fuck me!” you beg.

“Mm-mnn,” Crane refuses. “This is what you wanted, remember? Make yourself come for me.”

His words are all you need to tip past the point of no return. You cry out, almost shocked at the pleasure that rips through you once again, even more intense than the first time.

“Fuck…” you gasp.

You lower your head to Crane’s shoulder, exhausted after two orgasms back to back. Your sweat is slick against his skin, and it’s so good to rest for even a moment. Your whole body is buzzing so intensely, it feels like you could fall apart at any second.

“Think you can do one more for me?”

Crane’s voice is rough, and right in your ear. He’s relentless. Weakly, you shake your head no. You loll off the side of his shoulder, slumping against him as your body gives out.

“I think you can,” Crane insists. “Come on, you brought three condoms - must have had big plans.”

“Can’t…” you say.

It comes out as more of a breath than a word. Every ounce of your energy is gone.

“How disappointing,” Crane sighs. “And you haven’t even made me come once. I guess I’ll have to fix that.”

In the next instant, your back is pressed against the bed. Crane hovers over you, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I know this isn’t part of your plan,” Crane tells you. “You wanted to be the one in control. It scares you more than anything not to be. But honey, it’s time to accept the truth. You weren’t in control from the moment you stepped in this room.”

You feel his cock drag slowly out of you, before slamming back in so hard that the force lifts your hips off the bed. The shock makes you yelp.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to let go? You begged me to fuck you earlier. Really, I’m just giving you what you want.”

“Want… want you to cum in me,” you pant. 

Your eyes are heavy, but you open them to look at Crane as you say it. You watch his eyes darken as he looks down at you.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “You wanted it to go like this. Your little cocktail of Ambien and Viagra was just a safety net, pretend, so that you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself just how much the idea of losing control over me turned you on. But something got twisted in that fucked up little head of yours, and now you can only cum if I tell you to. Is that right?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. 

“Good.” Crane smiles darkly. “And now you’re going to come one more time for me. We’re not stopping until you do.”

You can tell that he’s serious, and you can already feel your third orgasm building. He's right, about all of it. He's read you like a book, and laid bare the things that you couldn't even admit to yourself. There's a terrifying intimacy in the way he seems to get inside your head, and maybe that is what you wanted all along.

You don't have long to consider it, though, because Crane is pulling at your wrist and bringing your fingers up to his lips. He sucks on your pointer and middle fingers, taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue as he looks down at you. You're frozen in his glare, unable to look away despite feeling like you're on the verge of passing out.

When he's done, Crane moves your hand so that it's pressed between the two of you, wet fingers brushing against your clit. You squirm, and Crane smiles again. 

“Good girl.”

His thrusts are slower, but more powerful now. Even without moving your fingers, your clit is getting rubbed with each surge of his hips, as he forces your body into the mattress. 

“S-so close,” you gasp.

“I know, sweetheart,” Crane rasps in reply. “I can feel you trying to hold it back, but you won't be able to for long. Come on my cock again.”

As he orders, you obey. It really is impossible to deny him. Your chest feels like it's about to collapse as you stop sucking in air, and your mouth hangs open, useless, as you freeze in time for just a moment when the orgasm finally floods through you, dulling all your other senses. When you regain the slightest amount of control over your body, you cry out for him, rut your hips against his, bring your hands up to claw at his shoulders.

“I told you you'd do it,” Crane pants. “Now it's my turn.”

He pumps into you again, the friction against your too-sore clit almost unbearable. But you're so drunk off his cock that you don't care. The pain is pleasure by this point, and you hold tight to him in a desperate attempt to make him finish inside you, just like you wanted.

Crane is so much stronger than you, though, and he tears away just as he reaches his peak. He isn't careful with his aim; painting you and the bed with white lust as he empties messily, all over you. It's in your face; your hair; and splattered across your chest like fresh blood. You bask in the feeling of being marked by him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Your chest is heaving with each breath. Crane, still on top of you, brushes a hand against your cheek and uses his thumb to collect some of his spent cum. He brings it down to your clit as he slips out of you, pressing against the still-sensitive nub.

“Ah!”

Overstimulated, you arch your back at his touch. His thumb is rough, but the lubrication of his cum on it feels good. He chuckles softly, and moves away.

“Get some rest,” Crane tells you. His eyes gloss over the bedside table, to where the syringe still waits. “You have a very long night ahead of you… I don't think that we've gotten even, yet.”

[floralseokjin]

Hi! I just finished reading bones and I really really loved the story. I love how you worked it out! But idk if it's just me but I didn't really like the mc character. In my honest opinion I dont think she should have ended up with either of them because I just thought she was really selfish and poor Hobi deserved someone way better .Regardless it was really beautifully written and I really enjoyed the story!The characterization of all of them was great. I'm looking forward to reading more stuff

That’s fine you think that way! I feel like people read situations differently. You’re correct, the Oc was selfish, but in her defence she had no clue Hoseok was in love with her. Their sexual relationship was built on the premise of friends with benefits, she didn’t know any different, especially because she was so caught up with her feelings for Yoongi. If anything, Hoseok was selfish too. He knew about her feeling for Yoongi, but still decided he would try to change her mind and try to fix her. He probably should have been honest straight away (but obviously it wouldn’t have worked out quite well…), instead he decided to have his “selfish” moments with her when she knew nothing of his real feelings. They were best friends, who was she to know any different? Bones was a story of characters that were all flawed—just like real life. No one is perfect. Good people make mistakes; it doesn’t mean they are evil and shouldn’t be given a second chances or a happy ending. In my head the Oc had every right to act the way she did. She was confused and conflicted, but she knew her feelings for Hoseok in the end were more than just friendship. Sometimes the right guy is right under your nose, you just never realised! It was Hoseok’s decision entirely to give her a chance and let her fall in love with him properly… and he picked to do so. I understand that I probably have a soft spot for my characters, as I make them up in my head and understand every thought and feeling they have (even if I don’t end up writing them all down lol.) I also understand that when it’s the Oc, it’s easier for people to see their bad side because you have no affinity towards her. With Bts’ characters it’s different because we already know them as real life people. It’s easier to forgive them for mistakes in fiction for that :’) I think everyone in Bones was selfish in their own way: Oc, Hoseok and Yoongi. But for me, that just makes for more complex reading. I hate writing painfully perfect characters. Everyone has their selfish side!

Thank your for reading, I honestly love messages like these because I get to debate lol. It’s interesting seeing other people’s views on my fics and how different people read in between the lines. I find it really interesting, and in this story a lot of people were torn with my ending. Maybe Oc should have ended up alone, maybe she should have forgiven Yoongi and given him a second chance, maybe Hoseok should have been left heartbroken and then ultimately moved on… In my mind, Oc and Hoseok were always going to end up together :’)

[khaleesiofalicante]

HELLO HI DANI HI 🌻

How are you doing???

I haven’t been on this hellsite in weeks but I’m officially back. I missed so much stuff???

1. You’re writing a divorce Mavid au???? Why? literally why?? who hurt u sis. I demand a thesis with explanation.

2. There’s a trailer for lbaf 4?? WHERE MAAM?? I CANNOT FIND IT. Send a search party plsss thanks

3. BMILY- i finally finished it and it was the softest shit I’ve ever read. Mavid has my entire heart oooofff. Also the angst was top tier. Max’s storyline killed me. Also good parent Alec>>>>>>>>> and lastly, blue means I love you ooooff. who allowed you to write shit like this bro??????

4. I haven’t finished baby malec au yet. Will do it tonight and I’ll find you again.

Also, I’ve been socialising a lot lately and I had almost forgotten how much I used to like that shit???? I’m utterly disgusted by this change in personality. I used to be the biggest recluse in the past few years oooffff—

I’m also sort of seeing this guy who keeps on doing cute shit so like the mature adult I am, I have commenced termination protocol by ghosting him. *pats myself on the back*

—

Lastly I finally updated lrhwy and bruh I had forgotten how much I needed writing again. I’m someone who has to put minimal effort and still scores a lot lmao so for the past two days I’ve been writing non stop and all my flat mates were shooketh cause I never study lmao. Someone tell these cuties that I was writing fanfiction lol.

Okay I’m done with my update. I repeat, how are you doing???? I can’t wait for LBAF.

ILY BYEEEE🌻🌻🌸💚

Tis for u

WELCOME BACK MOTHERFUCKER.

I like pain.

Here is your trailer. Fuck the tumble tag system.

bmily mavid owns my heart bye

baby malec is so fun to write tho. why tf are they so soft shdfak

you like socializing? who are you??? BLOCKED.

if i hear one more story about a 'cute guy' i will throw myself off my balcony istg (good job ghosting him men are to be ghosted)

SO SO SO SO EXCITED TO READ LHRWY NEW CHAPTER. I had a physically exhausting day and imma treat myself by starting the day with the new chapter tomorrow :)

I'm doing okay. I got covid lmao. But I recovered in two days. I'm unmatched. I'm unhinged. But this meant i couldn't go on my vacay which I REALLY looked forward to. So, I'm kinda mad lol.

Hope you take some time off work (and socializing ew) and focus on self-care. SEE YOU WITH LBAF SOON SUCKER.

ps - just so you know, im super super super proud and in awe of how you managed to write a 20k+ chapter and continue a story seamlessly as if you dropped it off only yesterday (yes i read the first bit during my break what about it) despite all your commitments. You're amazing <3

[inhonoredglory]

Read that you're literally writing your master thesis in myths and fanfiction which is THE MOST AWESOMEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD and I need to know did you ever read C.S. Lewis' thoughts about the power of myths?

YOOOO. I have to note that I was being a bit dorky with that one; I'm not technically taking an MA––still trying to shuffle through a BA lmao. But I'm working with my professor to edit my essay for publication to a student journal, so there's that.

Most of my thoughts on myth have come from Joseph Campbell, Native American writers like Thomas King, Tolkien, Neil Gaiman, and deep green environmentalist writers like Derrick Jensen.

The basic thesis I came away from all of them is that Myth and Stories have power and that, more importantly, Stories Are All That We Are, that our entire worldview is shaped by the cultural narratives we implicitly believe, and that the only way to truly change the world is to change the basic mythic narratives by which we operate on. Often these stories are religious (the Bible, the Koran, etc), but they aren't always. Cultural myths include such foundational cultural concepts as, say, the theory of evolution, which implies certain ideas about our place in the world and history, or the idea that Humanity is above all and therefore more important than Nature, which imparts tremendous and dangerous ideas about how much we can morally justify the destruction of habitats and environments.

All ideas we as a culture believe in come from stories, which is why it's important to use stories to shape the future, because that's how knowledge and belief was passed from one generation to another since ancient, oral storytelling days.

Combined with my own experience on this site and fandom in general, I've really come to believe that the reason these stories become so important to us isn't only because we're hyperfixated on shows and books, but because these stories have become part of the fabric of our beings. Fandom is our personal Mythology, giving us a space to validate who we are and give us direction in life, while also being a canvas upon which we shape the world around us and re-orient it to the kind of reality we need (especially regarding queer issues). True myth has always been adaptive; fandom is the modern adaption of cultural stories.

Anyway, I haven't read Lewis' thoughts in particular; I definitely ought to! Any recommendations of books or articles which are good places to start? I should note that I've read Tolkien's "On Fairy-stories" and his writings on eucatastrophe (which for me is the best and most profound emotion I can experience).

[rice-pudding-slaps]

as much as I'm absolutely over theory from Thesis™ I do think that tumblr -specially after AI and James Somertons's scandal- would love this specific one.

TLDR: A disappropriated writing that presents the communal process of writing as or more important than the finished product by itself.

Cristina Rivera Garza is a mexican writer and sociologist. In her book "The Restless Dead: Necrowriting and Disappropriation" is a reflection on the way that art is produced in the modern and digital era. I do recommend you give it a read and honestly her whole catalogue of writing is amazing and deserves all the attention. Also I apologize if this explanation is a bit clunky as I have to translate her words and my thoughts and english is very much not my first language lmao

She starts with the idea of community that's taken from another sociologist which can be roughly translated to "communality". In which -very broadly and probably not exact terms- its composed of relationships between the subject, their peers and the physical space they occupy, all connected through the work they make in order to construct this community; and spirituality between the being and the universe and their place in it. It highlights the importance of communication as being the work through language to establish relationships. It makes the relation from there to the act of quite literally "making" a book, which is a work that has many people behind that often gets only credited to the author.

The philosophy of writing from a disappropriated perspective is to put all the processes and the people that are needed to get to the final process. That not only means the physical labour of "making" the book, but also of the community that has set the cultural margins so the author can do the intellectual labour with all the influences that it entails.

This requires that the author doesn't "appropriate" experiences or voices from others for their own benefit. This doesn't mean that it has to create something isolated from influence, but that there should be an acknowledgement of it. Both from influences that are more explicit (tracing, borrowing quotes, copying ideas, being inspired from other's work or style) and implicit (cultural traces, passing stories, commentary from others, manners of speaking).

This kind of writing also makes clear that any kind of art is a communal work more so than an individual. It demystifies the image of the lone artist who creates from its own genius and creates a sort of layered way to see art, in which multiple strategies web a net of meanings and forms that shape a product which is only a still image of these processes.

This way of seeing art as community driven also puts it in a situation where it's ever changing and keeps getting rewritten and reinterpreted as the same community that created it interacts with it in new ways. There's an actualization that's constant in regards to the piece by itself and the ways the community interacts with it.

In the case of James Somertons's whole fiasco, his constant hiding of the processes under his art were his undoing; but the hbomberguy's video not only sheds a light on his appropriating strategies, but also shows a way of working that lines up with disappropriated art by showing both the process that led him to the topic and work, but also how the community interacted to make the topic relevant and how the subjects worked in regards to sources and information and cultural margins on their platforms. This gets actualized every time a new video gets posted on the situation and reactions over reactions keep manifesting and showing how the platform interacts with its users and how they interact with each other by means of "crediting".

Needless to say it's a fascinating topic that absolutely could become a talking point. And one I'm particularly interested in. Thanks for reading!

y'all would love the "De-aproppiation" poetic of Cristina Rivera Garza btw