#Monty life snippets

[hiraethminds]

It’s so fun communicating from farm country to suburb

[4t0mus]

Habsfic Wip Wednesday! Idea by @habsfic only just learning about it but sounds fun!!!

relationship: Monty/Doby

summary or tagline: It’s a convenience store worker!Monty crane operator!Doby slice of life where Doby works at this construction site right next to the Tricolor Convenience store where Monty currently works as to help out Price (the store’s owner) after he got injured. Most of it is just Sam looking for a new job while simultaneously falling for this cute customer (doby) that comes in daily to flirt although sam’s so oblivious he doesn’t realize that. Idiot x idiot fic where they both end up in the same beer league team thanks to Xhekaj.

current word count or estimated % completed: I have about maybe 2k words done rn, but it’s bits and pieces so i’m not sure of the exact number. Expecting around 20-40k words if i can finish it!

what are you most excited for with this project? Just writing it is what’s making me excited!! I haven’t written anything for fun since 2023 and I’d really love to give out to the fandom too and not just receive because i know i’m capable of doing something worth reading!! Also i love how much freedom i have with it. And if i can get around to doing descriptions and fit them in well i’d be super happy, descriptions are really my thing!! Not the thing i’m best at but the one i enjoy most.

what's currently stalling you? many many things. Mostly i’m scared to mischaracterize Doby, and Sam too, but also i have 2 canoe camping expeditions to prepare for as well as a move so that’s really stressful and takes so much of my headspace i have trouble actually writing. Then there’s also the way my ideas are growing out of my control and i’ve never written (and finished) anything over 5k words, and last time i wrote a chapter by chapter thing (to help take out the stress of lenght) i never actually finished it so yeah the lenght i’m expecting it to be is paralyzing me! And finally i’m just too much of a perfectionist and i freeze when things i write aren’t exactly the way i want them to be. Harder to deal with when my first language is french too…

share a snippet of your wip: (not set in stone, i might change some things)

Sam takes a long drag. Lets it sit in his lungs for a bit, exhales. The smoke dances in the windless summer night, gracious, brief. He flicks the joint lightly, watches the ash drop to his backyard’s grass. A dot of grey in a sea of green. Or so he assumes - under the moon, it all looks the same anyways. The blunt is burning in his hand, it’s light slowly fading as it sits unused. Sam watches it die, absorbed. His head’s cloudy, there’s a pressure behind his eyes. His eyelids feels heavy. He lets them fall, as he himself collapses on the ground. 

The grass on his neck itches. Maybe he was better sat… Sam can’t bring himself to get back up though - doesn’t even want to try, he’s comfortable enough in his discomfort thank you. And also way too stoned to be sitting at the moment.

He breathes in, almost tasting the humidity in the air. It’s heavy on his lungs, on his skin. And it’s warm - too warm. Sam’s sweating, damp hair sticking on his neck, clothes begging to be taken off. It’s a familiar feeling, one he doesn’t exactly dislike. How could he; it only ever reminds him of good things anyways - like playing hockey with the boys, net steady behind him as he gets to guard it, the head pats and the beer they share after games in the locker room, or the hikes he goes on, the remote lakes he reaches, water endless before his eyes, his feet aching but his mind clearer than it ever is. Or the nights of camping when he gets to goof around the bonfire, and sing, and lay down to stargaze, mind hazy with booze. Or Doby.

Well. More like Sam’s jerk off sessions thinking about Doby. Doby’s hands, his waist, his lips, his piercing eyes. How Doby would look under him - or over, he’s not picky. How Doby would sound like, moaning Sam’s name, how his mouth would feel on Sam’s dick. Sam’s not peculiarly proud to be having so much dirty thoughts about a customer, a regular one at that, but what can he say. The man’s hot, he’s sweet and Sam’s more than gone for him.

[packleaderbriggan]

One of my favorite snippets from a new ghostcrow oneshot I'm putting together

Ft. Metaphors, bird imagery, and the autistic Urge To Swing(tm):

👻🐦‍⬛👻

Monty arrived at the park first, as was expected. With barely a single thought, he made a beeline to the swingset. As he propelled himself higher and higher, the wind rushing through his dark hair as though he were a bird in flight, Monty could not help but let his mind drift.

After all the years of his youth existing under the stifling control of his mother’s thumb, Monty had never thought that he would be allowed to express such open affection for a partner- let alone two of them! Holding hands during walks around town, tender glances exchanged under the open expanse of the sky, adoring kisses pressed to parted lips as the warm rays of the sun bore witness to their love- Every moment he spent with the loves of his life consisted of incredible revelation after revelation.

Every shared laugh twisting together on the breeze, every beautiful memory born on the wings of their adoration, every merciful caress of their bodies against his, chased away the shadow of doubt that lingered in his mind. Monty Finch allowed the bright, beckoning lights of Edwin Payne's swaying lantern and Charles Rowland’s sunny torch beam to illuminate the darkest parts of his mind, dispelling the recollection of years spent wading through agony and silence.

He never would have thought that love could feel this… This liberating.

He never imagined that the shackles of his mother’s dominance would fall from his wrists, giving way under the fire of Charles’ protective fury and the ice of Edwin’s contempt for the treatment of her son. He never imagined that under their tender, careful ministrations, his battered wings would be allowed to extend from a spine so accustomed to bending to others’ wills and whims, permitting him to take a wild, terrifying leap and soar.

And as Monty pushed himself higher and higher, the early spring sun warming the exhilarated grin stretching across his face on every upswing, he almost swore he could feel the presence of those wings once more, the breeze twisting through feathers and the sunlight bursting warm and welcome across great, arching joints.

Just one more push, one more kick, one more euphoric pump of his legs, and he’d be high enough... He’d be close enough to the sky that he could let go of the cold plastic and the creaking chain and the feel of woodchips under his feet… One more repetition, and he would finally spread his trembling wings, and he would jump, and he would let the wind curl and twist under his too-heavy limbs as it caught him and he flew-

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

🌹🌹🌹

Thank you for the ask! From my Crystal-centric time loop fic for the mini bang:

“You should go,” she tells Monty, crossing the kitchen to pry the window open. When he doesn’t move, she waves towards the open sky outside. “Go on, you’re free! Go live your best crow life.” He cocks his head to the side in what feels like a faintly judgmental way.   Crystal grabs the bottle of whiskey. “Seriously. I’m about to burn this fucking place down. You don’t want to be here.” Caw.

Send me a 🌹 and I'll share a snippet of a WIP

[theicarusconstellation]

chapter 42 of into the dark is finally here!!

link

snippet:

His father’s curse started in his hand. The black, spider-like spot that marred his skin spread from that point to his vital organs, and now, his thread of life has been severed. By now, his body might look entirely withered, like the mummies of Egypt, barely alive and begging for death. That witch and wizard, Cereus and Benjy, had managed to slow the progression of the curse, but in retrospect, that may have made things much, much worse. Instead of a quick death, Monty got a drawn-out one, one filled with pain and gradual loss of motor ability, then senses. James’ mother hasn’t let him see his father since Christmas break last year, a mere few weeks after the curse had set in, but James has had his father’s decay in his mind’s eye regardless.

[guardianspirits13]

1, 4, 16, 19 for the dbd ask game :)))

1. Who is your favorite character?

Charles my SON.

4. Something you want to see in season 2?

Ok I know everyone wants a flashback episode showing the agency's founding and snippets from the following 30 or so years, but I want to go back further and see more of them when they were alive.

What were Edwin's parents like? Did he have any friends at St. Hilarion's? What was it like for him growing up during WW1? Were he and Simon ever acquaintances? I have a feeling he might have been a bit of a teacher's pet. I wonder how often and by how many people he got teased for being "prissy". I mean even seeing him kind-of sort-of becoming aware of his sexuality for the first time and burying it deep down inside to be locked away forever.

I want to see Charles and his mom. Charles playing cricket. Him hanging out with his "friends" who toss microaggressions his way that he has to pretend don't bother him. How did he find a reprieve from his dad at home? What's the deal with his basement room?

Also just to see them as kids and for actors to be their younger counterparts and all that entails :,)

16. A Rarepair you like?

Ooh. So my personal far-fetched rarepair is Asha the shopkeeper and Tragic Mick. They just seem to fit.

A more 'common' rarepair that I like is Charles and Monty, they're just sunshine boys with daddy and mommy issues respectively. That one fanart by @alexxuun that's been floating around planted a seed in my mind and it will not let go.

19. Favourite actor from the show?

I answered this here but the short answer is that Jayden's energy is contagious and I owe him my life for his portrayal of Charles

[leafkingofbirds]

Next chapter Preview: Eclipse Edition!

In honor of the total solar eclipse today, have this snippet I just finished writing! 😄

**this is still a first draft and you may find typos. But I am open to feedback & suggestions! 🥰

***

Somehow, Kieran winds up at the base of Sir Monty’s favorite tree. On his knees, his heart pounding, staring blankly at the dirt but seeing nothing. Too lost in his own mind and the troubles of his soul.

Give me peace, he begs whatever unseen force rules over life and death. Give me clarity. I must be everything Ella needs me to be.

But there is no divine intervention. Only himself, alone. As it has always been, since the death of his mother.

He would have sought his mother's grave, but the royal mausoleum is buried beneath the rubble of the destroyed Full Moon Chamber. 

Instead he has come to Sir Monty’s. The last parental figure he would ever have.

His oldest friend is gone to the tyrant’s side. Whether Oleander has betrayed Kieran or has some plan up their sleeve doesn’t matter. Oleander isn’t here to give any of their sage advice.

Dear Longclaw has her own heavy grief. Even her big heart is weighed down with the loss of not only the last of her beloved family – as abhorrent as Radiance was – but the loss of her own sense of self. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for her help, even if she was currently capable of giving it.

Ella would try to be there for him. But to go to her would be worse than dealing with it alone. Her heartless state is but more evidence of his failure and his guilt. 

“Mother,” Kieran gasps aloud without meaning to. A deep-set plea to a woman he had not set eyes upon since he was almost too young to remember and who will never answer his cries again. 

The word only opens the wound inside him, digging deeper, ripping open old wounds until they bled anew. His mother is the reason for all of this. Jack is the reason.

As if called by Kieran's very thoughts, he hears soft footsteps in the grass cautiously approach behind him. 

“So this is where you ran off to,” Jack muses. His voice is subdued. A hush has fallen over the entire place in the wake of the battle, an aura of death and defeat.

“Leave me,” Kieran growls without turning around.

Instead, the footsteps only come closer. To Kieran's shock and irritation, Jack kneels before the small square of stone at the base of the old, broken oak.

A stone marker had been installed at the base of the tree. Oleander had quietly decided upon the wordering and installed it themselves, after Kieran had irritably snapped at them “I don’t give a damn; do it yourself!” 

It was not enough to describe all that Sir Montgomery was in life, but then, no headstone would ever be able to capture the entirety of a man’s soul.

Here Rests the Most Honorable

Sir Montgomery Snow

Who Gave His Mortal Life

In Service to the Moon Court

For a long moment, Jack gazes at the headstone in silence, his expression intense and unreadable. He looks almost angry. 

Kieran braces himself to hear Jack say something vicious, and knows he won't be able to hold himself back this time if Jack speaks disrespectfully about Sir Monty before his very grave.

Then, Jack sighs deeply, hands on his thighs, and hangs his head. Kieran peers at him curiously.

“We have both suffered the loss of the most important people in our lives,” Jack says finally. He glances up at Kieran ruefully, his expression for once vulnerable and sincere. “Haven't we?”

Kieran can only glare at him. 

Jack looks back toward Monty’s headstone. “I want to say I regret what I've taken from you. But the truth is, if I had not killed Monty, he would have killed me. And I can't apologize for not allowing that to happen. Not honestly. Because I was not just fighting this battle for myself, and I owed it to those people in there that I would let nothing and no one stand in my way. No matter how noble.” 

There's a silence where Kieran considers leaping at him at closing his hands over Jack’s throat. But there isn't enough energy in him now. What would be the point? 

“But I regret the pain I have caused,” Jack says, in a way that makes Kieran think he's never apologized before in his life and it's physically painful for him. “I know that's foolish. I can't wish the past undone and know I would have changed nothing, all at the same time.”

“You wish it hadn't come to this,” Kieran manages to say, surprised at how rough his voice sounds, how close to tears. He can't even look at Jack.

“Yes.”

Kieran scoffs. “So do I.”

Not that it mattered what any of them wished. Wishes are futile things, even for Fae.

“Nothing I can say will undo the damage I've done. Believe me, I'm well aware,” Jack says bitterly. “But I want to say this anyway: I was wrong about you. I was wrong about so many things that it makes my blood boil to look back on it. About Sir Montgomery and Eisa. About the right way to fight for equality in this realm.”

“You were wrong about Ella,” Kieran reminds him snappishly.

Jack has the gall to look surprised. Then embarrassed.  “I…yes.” 

Kieran raises his brow expectantly, demanding a better answer than that. 

Jack sighs explosively and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought her addled at best, foolishly naive at worst. I thought you were like every other Fae I had ever had the misfortune of meeting, who had dazzled and enthralled an unwitting human into doing your bidding. But…you truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all that I am.” Kieran feels his hands clench into fists. “Ella has the most pure and genuine heart for others I’ve ever known a mortal to have. And a stubborn, inner strength that has never ceased to impress me. She is braver than any Fae I have ever met. That you misjudged her angers me even more than being misjudged. And that she is in my palace right now, heartless, where she should have been safe, angers me more than anything else.”

“You feel like you failed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. Jack gazes at him evenly.

“I did fail her,” Kieran snaps. “She felt she had no choice but to use the Immortality Curse, because this realm is so dangerous for mortals. I didn’t do enough to ensure she felt safe among Fae. I wasn’t able to break her curse, despite my promise that my love would be strong enough to save her. And yes, I ignored the threat of your Eclipse and the suffering you endured, as generations of Moon Court heirs have done before me. I own that mistake as wholly mine. But, Jack - it was your arrogance and prejudice didn’t want to believe Fae lives were in any way worth sparing. You came to kill us without knowing us. Without giving us even a chance.”

Jack’s brow wrinkles. “To be fair, that is exactly how mortals have been treated by Fae for the entirety of history.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Jack looks contrite. “No. It doesn’t.”

“I'm glad we can agree on something,” Kieran mutters. 

“Perhaps that's why I was too late to save my father,” Jack muses quietly, as if to himself. “His innocent life, spent in payment for my sins. I live now only because you demand it, Kieran - else I would fall on that damned sword as penance. And I will do what I can to help fix this. But some things I can't fix. And for that…I truly am sorry.”

Kieran's eyes fill with tears, hot and angry. He can feel Jack’s gaze on him, and doesn't meet it.  His emotions war in such a furious swirling tempest he can't keep track of any of them - he doesn't even try to name them.

What strikes him, though, is how much of Jack's words mirror Kieran's own internal guilt. 

An innocent life paid the price of my arrogance.

I would fall on my sword for my failure.

Some things I can't fix.

Kieran senses himself at a fork in the road. He can do what his old self would have done - the bitter, broken, cold version that used viciousness to isolate himself and wallowed in his own misery - and rebuff Jack’s attempt to repent. Jack would live, but they would be forever strangers. Forever estranged.

Or he can be the man Ella always believed him to be. The man Kieran strives to live up to.

Kieran lets out a long sigh. “I can’t forgive you, Jack. Not yet. But I accept your apology. I believe it’s sincerely offered.”

“If nothing else, know that I am a man who means what he says.” Jack’s level gaze doesn’t waver. He shows no sign of discomfort from kneeling so long in the dirt, even though the gashes Kieran had delt to his flank are barely scabbed over. Up close, Kieran can see the disciplined way Jack holds himself. The quiet confidence of a true warrior. This has been his life's sole purpose, and Kieran realizes, just now, how broken Jack must also feel.

“We are two of a kind that way,” Kieran answers quietly.

Jack huffs a short laugh, then grows serious again. “Kieran…for what it’s worth? I’m sorry for what happened to Ella. I hope, one day, she will be restored. And on that day, I will ask her forgiveness as well.” Jack climbs to his feet and idly brushes off his knees. “I think my chances will be better if I wait until then.”

The harsh bark of a laugh that escapes Kieran's throat just then doesn't slow Jack's steps, and soon Kieran is alone again beneath this silent, doomed tree.

His laugh turns into a sob.

His hands claw the grass and hard-packed earth as if he could tear it away. Rip open the grave beneath his feet and demand it all to be different, for fate to change according to his will, for the chance to go back in time and undo his mistakes, to unravel all the terrible things that have happened.

But he’s powerless now, and his hands can no more open a hole to bury himself than they could bring back the dead. 

Kieran puts his forehead to the earth in defeat, and lets himself weep like he has not done in a hundred years.

[musicoftheheart]

oh my gosh okay so I wanna ask about all ur wips honestly but that kind of defeats the purpose soooooooo

4,7,8,14

4 because it sounds really ominous, 7 because the title makes me think someone (probably james) freaks out every time someone else (probably regulus) speaks french and a third person (probably sirius) thinks hes having an allergic reaction, 8 because this sounds like a sequel to hold me tight (and never let me go)??? and I have been loving that fic so far and cant wait for you to finish it (but no pressure, take ur time of course), and 14 because thats funny as shit

also, I remember you saying a while ago you might write a snooker au? is that happening? (again no pressure, I just wondered if u forgot to list it since you mentioned having brain fog recently (which is a cool name for it btw and I will be using it in future))

hi!! thanks for asking! <33

so ive covered a couple of these in another ask, so ill only sum them up here (you still get rambled at though dw <3)

4. dont walk too close

so! as i said in another ask, this is a fic following sirius (and regulus, later) starting hogwarts as walburga’s obedient heir, only to end up in gryffindor and learning that life isnt quite the way he’d been taught. his revelations and his sorting end up causing tension at home in the yule holidays, and a series of events end up with regulus in gryffindor too. im sure we can all imagine how that one goes. i posted a snippet in the other ask here

7. french epi fic

HA okay i love your guess, but— well, actually, youre closer to the truth than you might’ve thought. sort of.

regulus has just escaped his parents’ clutches and moves across from france to the one place he hoped he might be welcome: sirius’ home in england. its set in yorkshire, because thats where i grew up before i had to move away, and i miss it :( regulus’ english is poor as it is, but meeting sirius’ ridiculously attractive housemate, james potter, muddles his brain enough where the few basic greetings he knew were gone

james has epilepsy (thats where the ‘epi’ in the title comes from), remus gets them all free donuts, and sirius refuses to flirt on behalf of either james or regulus with the other. its chaos, its fun, and im enjoying it so far despite only being a few thousand words in. here’s a snippet:

Regulus slowly set his eyes back on the house. “It’s so big.”

Seeming to finally catch up on Regulus’ surprise, Sirius explained, “Effie and Monty helped us get on our feet, but with what Alphard left…”

”Mon dieu,” he breathed. But this time, it wasn’t at the house. It was at the man stepping out of it.

Stood at the front door, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun that had emerged from behind the rain clouds, was the most beautiful man Regulus had ever laid his gaze upon. His dark brown hair was tussled in a mess of curls on his head, but almost like it was purposefully messy rather than just uncontrollable. Round golden glasses sat upon his bronze skin, framing his chocolatey eyes perfectly, and a wide grin pulled at his mouth and revealed a little dimple on his left cheek.

When Regulus was eventually able to tear his eyes from the man’s face, his breath caught again at the sight of the rest of him. He clearly worked out, if the muscles making his t-shit stretch were anything to go by, but he wasn’t tall — perhaps only a couple of inches larger than Regulus himself, and he reached only a measly 5’7. Something shining in the sun caught Regulus’ eye, and he saw a thin metal bracelet on one of the man’s wrists.

”Hey, James!” Sirius called, climbing out of the car and snapping Regulus out of his trance. He’d made it to the boot to pull Regulus’ suitcase out before Regulus had even managed to open the passenger door.

”Padfoot!” James called with just as much enthusiasm — that was, far too much considering they lived together and had presumably seen each other just a few hours ago before Sirius had left to pick Regulus up. “And mini Pads!” he added, spotting Regulus finally getting out of the car.

Regulus shot him a swift glare for that nickname. He may be cute, but looks could only get him so far.

8. the warmth of your arms rivals the sun (its burning out)

this is another ive covered in another ask but i love it so im still gonna talk about it. youre exactly right, by the way — it is a hmt sequel! i guess the naming conventions were similar enough ahaha. its very james-centric with background storylines, and focuses on much heavier themes than those in hmt. i wont go into what they are, but anyone who was around during chapter… four? five? i dont remember, but it was early on. i added some tags, then took them away once i decided id split it into two parts. if anyone remembers those tags, that’s what twoya will cover :))

14. sirius is actually helpful for once wtf

this is planned to be a shorter fic, but still multi chapter. its pretty much just sirius shipping jegulus and doing everything he can to get his two favourite people together :) not written yet, but ive got a fair bit planned so far

bonus: snooker au

okay so, i would love to say i’ve worked on this some more since then but… i haven’t :( i really want to, but i want to do it well, which i know will take a lot of time. but, the details i have so far:

its the snooker world championships. regulus black’s first, but james potter’s third. sirius black — former world champion — is the estranged brother of the newbie regulus black, and the mentor and best friend of james potter, who was second place two years ago, but couldnt compete last year due to an unrelated injury, though healed up now. james, of course, is head over heels for regulus. regulus, of course, pretends hes not pining madly for the boy who stole his brother. sirius, of course, pretends hes not offended or hurt that regulus wont even try to fix their relationship. he also just happens to be stealing glances at remus lupin, who came fourth last year and seemed rather close to regulus. theyre all hopeless, and determined to win.

thanks for your ask! <33

[flygefisk]

🍓🍑🥭🍋🍈?

🍓 biggest dragon in your lair (based on in-game sizes) and biggest dragon in your lair (based on lore sizes):

going purely off of length bc i do not have the energy for anything else, the largest by game size turns out to be valencia at 30.47m long! she's on the lighter side, but his wingspan is also pretty wide at 22.89m. malachite is a close second at 29.94m long- his 22.71m wingspan is only a tiny bit smaller too.

lore-wise, the current largest 'dragon' is kalypso, the sea monster that lives in the crystal caves at the water's edge. she's similar in size to the massive merchant ship bluebird captains. ipswich's original form is much, much larger, but at the moment, they're regular dragon size. (in my lore, game size has little bearing on the character's size- imps tend to be tall, faes tend to be short, but it's a difference of a couple feet rather than a dozen.)

🍑 show off an expensive regening project:

i'm sure i have more expensive ones, but sunburst is the one that comes to mind as i breed changed him into a coatl.

🥭 share a snippet (3-5 sentences / 1 paragraph) of lore you wrote and give us the author's notes/director's commentary!

"a wild something, indescribable even to the god of such things, coiled around the body that was once its own. it stared up at the god, its teeth bared.

the something howled too, until its song became a scream, letting loose all the sorrow and love and rage of a life that would never have been enough."

howl used to be a girl, pretty and kind, and all the men wanted her. if she'd had the language, she'd be a gay/ace trans man, and was not interested in said men, no matter how insistent. one man, though, knew she liked foraging, and followed her into the woods. whatever he intended, she fought him, and she ended up with a knife to the gut. the wild something is the spirit that all trans people share, the will to exist as themselves. as howl never had the chance to be howl when he was alive, the wild something he became/left behind made a deal with some minor god or another for another chance. and yeah, maybe he was reborn a little monstrous, but he can be himself now. i like the "died and came back wrong" trope but the "died and came back so true to themselves that they seem like they came back wrong" idea is more fun lol

🍋 a dragon you regret exalting:

mmm now that i have my random progen back the only one i can think of is one of my very first dragons? can't remember super well but he was a bluish snapper named monty. maybe i should try to remake him…

🍈 a dragon you hate (/pos) based on personality/lore:

doctor. they're an antivaxxer and still try to treat colds with bloodletting and mercury

[beardedmrbean]

Oh sorry the writers thing, but here the thing, you need empathy to do a different pov

Like my Yasuke thing, I point out the guilt he have for not saving the odas and how in the what if continuation that red will do

Also sorry this in my mind

Yasuke chasing Akechi across a battlefield: GET BACK HERE EASTERN JUDAS!

Akechi: WHO THE FUCK IS JUDAS?!

Also it very like the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi to be an endgame item…but if it have new game plus

😈

Also another thing, hmm I think the majority of blacks boys don’t think we need some bland af black character to understand we can be good people

Also modern activitism heavily started in fandoms, dear lord I just give a snippet

Certain Star Wars fans on tumblr: If you like this villain, you’re a Nazi/Abuse apologist!

Me an abuse survivor: Strange how this villain lead me to meet someone that guide me through Hindu stories and now I own a copy of the Ramayana!

Also this

https://x.com/actually_tina/status/1779247708659949775?s=46

Back in the day, people say that fandoms will change for people like me to have conforms and compassion

But I never felt so isolated and suicidal being in big fandoms like Star Wars or kids media, and superhero media

Also I’m not taking about the og fans like you

I mean the feminists, communists, and “representation matters!” Fans

True about empathy and all that good stuff, be very difficult to write stories about life as a "dark ages" peasant if you had to have the lived experience so imagination is key.

Also sorry this in my mind Yasuke chasing Akechi across a battlefield: GET BACK HERE EASTERN JUDAS! Akechi: WHO THE FUCK IS JUDAS?!

Don't apologize that's funny as hell.

Also another thing, hmm I think the majority of blacks boys don’t think we need some bland af black character to understand we can be good people

I really wish things hadn't gone the way they did with Cosby, I'm terrified of what they might do to Good Times, also if both JJ's will show up, JJ Walker and Miss Janet Jackson.

Oh looks like people are being honest, unlike how they were with the scooby doo thing, well there's that hope out the window.

NEXT

Also modern activitism heavily started in fandoms, dear lord I just give a snippet Certain Star Wars fans on tumblr: If you like this villain, you’re a Nazi/Abuse apologist!

It's why I stay on the periphery of fandoms, I can see what's going on and collect information and not have to deal with that nonsense.

Me an abuse survivor: Strange how this villain lead me to meet someone that guide me through Hindu stories and now I own a copy of the Ramayana!

That's that video game with the rabbits right?

I haven't gone through many of the Hindu texts like that, I like reading the different cultural epics if I can find the time.

Also this

How dare people say Aang pisses on the poor, red door dilemma, sometimes the author really just likes that colour.

Back in the day, people say that fandoms will change for people like me to have conforms and compassion But I never felt so isolated and suicidal being in big fandoms like Star Wars or kids media, and superhero media

Also I’m not taking about the og fans like you I mean the feminists, communists, and “representation matters!” Fans

Fandom should be fun, we should get together and nerd out while quoting our fav lines from whatever it is and tossing in occasional Monty Python Holy Grail jokes.

Got a question you ask someone, they don't know but well they do know someone who may know and they'll get you the answer.

It's supposed to be fun, white guy wants to dress up as T'challa because that's their fav character nobody cares, there will be a significant number of jokes made though

It's supposed to be fun though

[mywifeleftme]

300: Four Horsemen // Live in the West

Live in the West Four Horsemen 1977, Starborne

The Four Horsemen were Canada’s great contribution to international sound poetry, a genre that has traditionally involved the authors of the most abstruse literary theory ever written doing the verbal equivalent of Monty Python’s Department of Silly Walks for small audiences that regret their own open-mindedness. (Look, the Splash Zone was clearly labelled.) The Horsemen became genuine counter-culture favourites because they understood that absolute freedom is as absurd as it is sublime. As a result, their second LP Live in the West is probably the most fun thing that’d come out of the whole sound poetry movement to that point. The poets presented themselves as something between a band, an avant-garde theatre troupe, and a sketch group, and their compositions flit between high- and lowbrow signifiers in a way that feels prescient of today’s culture.

Side One is dedicated to shorter compositions, classical sound poetry conceits like dismantling a single loaded word into discrete phonemes (the word “Assassin” dissolved into startled AHHs and hissing esses) and deftly syncopated sequences of non-verbal glottal noises and grunts. On “From Beast/Matthew’s Line,” Paul Dutton (I think) opens with a snippet of an Irish-sounding folk song; he breaks off, allowing Rafael Barreto-Rivera and bpNichol to exchange repeated non-sequiturs in Spanish and English while Dutton keens in the background; Steve McCaffery begins speaking over them, intoning John Clare’s nineteenth century poem “I Am!”; as McCaffery nears the climax of the poem, the others gradually transition into raga-style vocalizations. The effect is quadrophonic, not unlike Glenn Gould’s “contrapuntal radio” piece The Idea of North (1967), which layered recordings of spoken monologues to see how their meanings and sounds complimented and “splashed off” one another. It also anticipates the sampling era to come, but the analogue physicality and precision required to pull the piece of without the aid of electronics gives it a spark all its own.

The elaborate collaging of “Matthew’s Line” previews the two longer pieces on Side Two, “Mischievous Eve” and “Goodbye Stagelost.” On these quasi-theatrical pieces, the Horsemen lean into the characters their voices suggest: the plummy British accent of the Sheffield-born McCaffery makes him a natural for playing the role of a fusty square, though he is never far from descending into gibbering imbecility; Barreto-Rivera’s Latin-accented good cheer provides an earthy counterpoint, even as he often lapses into Spanish passages that deepen the complexity of following their ratatat chemistry; Nichol has a measured, precise cadence, leading his colleagues like a conductor even as he often dives the furthest into abstraction; little Paul Dutton’s boyish, wiseacre Ontario deadpan sounds like one of the Kids in the Hall, making him the perfect foil when things need deflating. These longer selections resemble a slapstick update of the overlapping dialogues in the second part of Eliot’s The Waste Land, found writing and original material and classical literature swirled together to capture life in the charnel house of modern culture, but with more jokes (a special tip of the cap to Dutton’s passing allusion to Nichol’s “dick-washing habits”).

Fifty years down the line, sound and concrete poetry have little presence in the Canadian scene (or internationally, for that matter) outside of a few holdouts of the old guard. Almost nothing on the shelves or the stage feels as genuinely creative or lively as this old record does. I haven’t the space or energy here to litigate the institutionalization of the genre, but I know in my bones that the world could use a little more nastiness like this.

300/365

[masha-nikita]

I saw this post, and I couldn't help but agree with it. Not that I'm an expert in writing smut... I only have a few ideas.

Sex and death are the powerfully transformative forces of human psyche, symbolized by Pluto in astrology. When observing the synastry chart of 2 people, it is Pluto rather than Venus that is the significator of sexual tensions-- sex acts like primitive catalyst of power dynamics between a couple. Venus being the ruler of both Libra and Taurus, almost never brings any tension or discomfort to a situation- Libra is the diplomatic side of Venus, whereas Taurus the laid-back enjoyments.

Whether or not it is BL/YAOI smut, I'd interpret the penetrating party as Mars in action--controlled aggression, and the receiving party the channel for Pluto. There's got to be some sort of clash of personality, the dissolution of waking consciousness, digging out traumas and self contradictions, and finally, the small death and eventual transformation/sublimation.

The healing process happens after the sex.

I really dig myself too deep into WWII fandom ngl.

Monty x Rommel works so well for me personally. Rommel sees Montgomery as sworn enemy, surrendering to him is not only betrayal, but also akin to losing his whole identity. Monty adores his enemy. In this lonely British general's eyes, the Fox seems closer to him than his American allies precisely because they are enemies. Both men are forced into this war situation, both are ill adapted in civilian life-- a life riddled with battles is the only life they know of, it renders them perpetual outsiders. The Fox occupies Monty's whole mind, and he knows it is the same for Rommel. Rommel knows the commander of 8th army understands him well. He hates this fact, because it makes him feel weak; yet he loves it secretly, because he is able to feel weak.

Their positions are so irreconcilable, so different yet so similar, so much is impossible to put into words. The sex, the touch, smell, even the language barrier itself, are the only viable language left for them. Such intimacy is not supposed to be, each thrust is fatal, each kiss feels like the last. I'd say these themes are truly Plutonian.

Another pairing that I think of from time to time but never wrote anything, is Konstantin Rokossovsky x Fedor von Bock. See this post if you wonder what it is. My little crazy friend quite likes this pair, but the dynamic is even more intense, borderline offensive, I don't know how to deal with these two. Here's a snippet to show you how bad it can be; here goes nothing-

///

"Dying on the battlefield is the greatest pursuit of all Reich's soldiers"-- this adage is not mere war time propaganda for von Bock; he practices what he preaches since WWI, long before the Nazi party ever took power. He wholeheartedly welcomes his death when the young Red Army general Rokossovsky captures him in the middle of Barbarossa. Bock nonchalantly ponders to himself: "the Soviets would hand me to NKVD. Stalin would have me tortured and hanged. Very well."

But Konstantin decides otherwise: he wants to keep him for himself. A Nazi deserves something much worse than death.

The young Red Army warrior makes it very obvious and humiliating to the older Generalfeldmarschall that he is being r*ped as a worthless Nazi... yes, this slender beauty is a Nazi, he totally deserves what is done to him. Despite always maintain strict self control, when the boundaries between sex and death blur, Fedi couldn't handle this burning desire for the enemy above him.

When Konstantin later learns that not all Wehrmacht generals subscribe to Nazi ideology-- it is rather their moral incompetence that gives in to Hitler-- he becomes disgusted with his behavior. Von Bock gives him a smile of contempt: "You are so naive, marshal Rokossovsky, that you allow room in your heart for guilt. Stalin should've seen through you and purged you."

///

yes, you see, offensive cold-blooded hot sex, makes me shudder. At least it is never boring.

There have been a couple of posts going around about how smut writers have the challenge of keeping a sex scene interesting when there's only a few different actions and a few different body parts to talk about

And yes, funny jokes about writing, but when I see posts like these I want to scream

If you feel like the sex scene you're writing is repetitive, no number of synonyms for "thrust" will help you. Synonyms for "cock" or "cunt" will REALLY not help you.

Sex scenes are character studies as much as they are action scenes. What are the characters' frameworks for what they're doing? Emotions, thoughts, specific physical sensations. If there are metaphors, do the metaphors make sense with the characters' experiences/the story's theme's/the setting? Is the sex scene completing a character arc, even a small one? Is there a character arc within the sex scene itself, even a small one?

A really good sex scene is specific and grounded to the physicality, emotions, and thoughts of the characters involved. Even if it's a PWP!

It's been said that the largest sex organ is the brain, and this is not a joke, especially when we're talking about the medium of the written word!

[knowusa]

What the Great Teen Movies Tell Us About American Adolescence

In the early spring, I caught a preview at my local Alamo Drafthouse Cinema for its forthcoming stoner-classics retrospective: snippets of Monty Python’s Life of Brian; Tommy Boy; a few Dada-esque cartoons perfect for zonking out on, post-edible. The audience watched quietly until Matthew McConaughey, sporting a parted blond bowl cut and ferrying students to some end-of-year fun, delivered a…

[simbieville]

Nocturne Valleria -

The Ashwynd Family Benjamen & Orla

On the outskirts of an ancient town lived farming couple Benjamen and Orla. Life was simple and though life was hard, it was good. Their loyal pooch Monty (formally Montague... especially when he took it upon himself to dig holes inside) made their family a trio from the start. Rumours had circulated with the townsfolk since their arrival. Whispered worries and half heard conversations about whether growing garlic could help ward off the evil. Superstitions. Having never grown garlic nor the funds to purchase the seedlings Benjamen put these snippets of thought to the back of his mind. Farming was hard work and left little time to sit and wonder things that did not concern him. Their farm clung to the edge of town where rolling hills stretched to the lake one side and the path to town stretched to the other. And from dawn until dusk the earth needed to be tilled and coaxed into neat rows of tomato plants and wheat and whatever else the season permitted. The fire was lit each night and Benjamen considered himself a lucky man to afford the coal and firewood that brought this warmth to his family. They had little need to be out once the sun was buried beyond the hills. Cosied up before the fire to the tune of the violin as his wife plucked expertly at its strings.

Hi! It's been so long since I posted! I have been in my drafts and boy is there some unfinished business in there - so what did my ADHD ass do? Made an entire new neighbourhood and started again. So, enjoy the start of Nocturne Valleria! See you soon! (! here's another exclamation mark just for fun.)

[dinowolfthezombie]

I love your “wolves & rabbit” snippets so far! Monty is well-patterned, kinda brought my offtopic question of “How would Fazbear Ent. get licensed for an high-effort species like Monty without lying ass off on care?”

Besides the staff bots and other practical equipment, the animatronics are not made by Fazbear Ent. themselves. They were commissioned by a corporate entity I made up for my au called Artificial Life. The company used to be Afton Robotics but rebranded as they expanded and found their specialty in robots that replicate living things. Fazbear Entertainment wanted high quality animatronics for their attractions without spending too much. As for Artificial Life, they took the commission as an opportunity to experiment with their resources. Basically, Fazbear Ent. were cheap and agreed to be guinea pigs for A. Life's experimental projects.

As for how any of this is legal, robots with advanced A.I. are still new at this point so there's not much regulation on their use yet. They are also not recognized as a form of life so their quality of life is not a concern. Whatever care the animatronics receive are to keep them functioning and make them easier to work with.

Thank you for the ask. I'm happy you found my rambles interesting.

[4thestars-sun-n-moon]

Bc of your comment about dumb Monty on my post, you’ve earned another reader. Even if I only get a snippet of him amongst the lovely adoration I’m sure reader (Star? I love it) will have for the clown duo

JAGJSVSK

He gets a boyfriend!

Nathan ❤️ absolute man loser. Has never processed an emotion in his life.

You get to see him every once in a while. He gets some character development along with Nathan since their a duo.

Monty is kinda Nathan's giant lap dog. He's just laying on top of him in the middle of work forcing him to take a nap.