#and it sucks because i genuinely enjoy writing and could write for fun but SOMETHING always derails it

[spagetmonster]

Great filter this, great filter that. Anyone gonna talk about the great literary filters that stop me from writing shit.

Here they are:

1. Can't figure out the plot.

2. This would be better as a graphic novel/manga/comic (tragically, not an artist)

3. This is a fun idea but can I really just keep writing a story with no idea how to end it and just keep adding onto it forever?

4. FUCK YEAH I CAN DO THAT I CANT WAIT TO-oh my anxiety + crippling fear of letting things go and moving on from them killed it.

[star-girl69]

Fade Into You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you fell first, but clarisse fell harder. requested by anonymous!

a/n: decided to feed y’all today….. two fics i’m a monster that just creates and creates. this was so funny bc i kept accidentally writing angst and i had to stop myself. they’re allowed to have crushes on each other. it’s ok. this was hard anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

warnings: just so cutesy, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood and injury, soft clarisse i looooovvvvveeeeee you, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your chest heaves. You’ve never ran that fast or that far before in your life. Your satyr protector runs ahead to get the healers, and you crash against some random building- a tool shed, maybe?

You groan, crouching down to clutch at your lower leg sporting a large gash running blood. You don’t remember how it happened. Maybe it was when you fell? You could have sliced it open on an unfortunately sharp stick.

You don’t even want to think about the fact that the stupid monster thing chasing you could have gotten close enough to claw at you.

“Hey, hey,” someone says, crouching down next to you. She’s wearing an orange shirt. Her hair is curly, her eyes are pretty and brown, and oxygen isn’t getting to your brain so she kind of seems like an angel. “Oh, wow,” she mutters, looking at your leg. “One second, ‘kay?”

“Wait,” you say, grabbing onto her forearm. She looks up at you.

“I’m going two steps away, dummy.” She laughs, and you’ll remember that sound for the rest of your life.

She leaves you, and you almost want to cry because you feel so alone. You’ve just been told you’re a demigod, then you were forced to run through the woods, your heart is still hammering and your leg fucking burns.

But she was right. It was only two steps, and she comes back, the door of what must be some sort of storage shutting behind her.

She leans back down and presses a towel against your gash.

You hiss.

“Sorry,”

“You’re not.” She laughs again. More beautiful music in your ears.

“I’m not,” she agrees.

You fall into silence, it’s so dark out, but you can see everything about her so clearly.

“You can stop breathing so heavily,” she whispers, the shouting of your satyr protector getting closer, along with what must be the healers. “Camp Half-Blood is surrounded by a magical barrier. You’re safe here. Well, at least, no monsters are gonna get you.

“O-okay,” you mumble. You aren’t sure if you believe her. You don’t think you believe anything anymore.

The healers push her away, you’re so so tired, and she stands up, dusting off her hands.

“Thank you, Clarisse,” one of the healers says. “We’ll take it from here.”

Clarisse.

—-

The purpose of Clarisse La Rue’s entire existence seems to be to drive you insane.

The way her arms flex when she wields her spear, the way she lifts her shirt up to dab at sweat on her brow; and the way you can see her toned stomach and the faintest hint of abs you would actually kill to touch. The way she smiles, even though it’s never really genuine, and the way she laughs when she’s making fun of someone.

She was the first person you met at camp, and you’re pretty sure she doesn’t even remember it, yet alone know your name.

It was ironic, as the daughter of Aphrodite, to be quietly pining over someone from the distance. And it sucked, but maybe you would just always have this quiet crush on Clarisse, and you learned to take it like you took your breakfast.

Until the start of this summer, when everyone came back to camp, it was alive again, and it all changed. And now you’re fucked.

—-

You smile, watching a few of the younger campers scream about how amazing the lake is. Summer’s just started. It’s so beautiful this time of year. They didn’t have as traumatic experiences as you, no monsters chased them right up to the barrier of camp. The lake is huge and so blue it seems otherworldly- probably because it is.

You slam into something.

It’s an awkward flare of limbs and muttered obscenities, but you manage to keep yourself upright by falling back into a very convenient tree.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up and expecting to make eye contact with anyone but her.

You haven’t been face to face with Clarisse in four years. You mouth snaps shut, and you’re sure you look like a terrified deer in headlights.

She’s frozen just like you.

“W-watch where you’re going,” she hisses, pushing you farther into the tree as she walks past you.

Did Clarisse just stutter?

—-

Clarisse stares at you.

You blush like you’re about to turn into a flamingo.

The cycle repeats.

—-

This year, the Ares and Aphrodite cabins were paired together to share the field for sword practice just before dinner. The sun is hidden by the trees, providing some nice shade as you frown at all the Ares kids sparring like their lives depend on it.

While Aphrodite kids are not the most naturally skilled in fighting, you’re still demigods, and you still have to know how to protect yourselves.

Matty, a Ares child and your sister Tyla’s boyfriend, already sparred three times, winning against his siblings, then sparred with Tyla once; which just ended with her getting bored after a minute and dropping her sword before jumping into his arms.

You watch random people spar. Everyone moves around you, Tyla and Matty are on top of each other next to you on the bench, everyone walks around you to collect their water bottles from the table behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna spar, Y/N?” Tyla asks, fiddling with Matty’s hands.

“No,” you laugh.

“That’s against the rules.”

You know that voice, you hear that annoyingly angelic voice in your dreams.

Clarisse sits down next to you. You can hear Tyla smiling. Only a few of your siblings who can be trusted to keep a secret know about your wretched crush. You’re probably blushing.

“Uh, what?” you say, looking in her direction but not risking actually looking at her.

“You have to spar,” she says, like it’s painfully obvious, kicking out her legs.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you shrug.

“Sounds like you’re scared, Y/N,” Matty muses.

You shoot him a bored look. “Sounds like you’re whipped, Matty.”

Tyla is currently in Matty’s lap, her hands in his hair.

“Oh, definitely,” he says, turning towards Tyla with a sweet smile on his face and she coos and immediately attaches her face to his.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter, turning away from the two of them having borderline sex on the bench.

Clarisse laughs.

You clench your fist, you feel like you’re gonna explode being so close to her and not able to climb up into her lap and kiss her like a woman starved.

“You still have to spar, you know.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Hm, no. I won’t have to.”

You finally look towards her, if only because you’re confused, but she’s looking straight out at the the distance, where a certain centaur is making his way to the fields-

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, immediately jumping up and scrambling for a sword from the pile behind you.

You turn around, hoping one of your siblings is free so you can spar with them-

The sword is ripped out of your hands.

“That one sucks,” Clarisse says, simply, while you stand there with your mouth open. She rifles through the swords. “Use this one instead.”

The one she hands you does seem a lot easier to hold. Not too heavy, not too light.

How the hell could she tell which one is best for you just by looking at you?

“Matty,” Clarisse says. “Chiron’s coming.”

Tyla and Matty both hop up, giggling at they make their way towards one of the marked circles.

As you’re left there with Clarisse, it suddenly hits you that after four years of simple indifference, she’s talking to you like she knows you. Or like she wants to know you.

You like her too much to question it. You want her too much to be bothered as to why she’s giving you five minutes of her time.

Clarisse walks away. You thought it was going to happen, so your heart feels this sort of heavy that is indescribable, but she turns around.

“Are you coming?” she asks, deadpan.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you say, sticking your sword under your arm and cracking your knuckles. With Chiron showing up, she leads you to the marked circle all the way at the edge of the field, the start of the woods, the very last one.

She stops and turns around, this sort of nonchalant but smug look on her face. She reaches forward and bats your hands away from each other with a single swat that leaves you so shocked from the feeling of her skin on hers that your hands fall to your sides.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt ‘em.”

Here, right in front of the trees, the sun shining through the gaps shines off of Clarisse’s tan skin and her bronze armor in a way that makes her look otherworldly.

Clarisse’s that kind of pretty where you just never want to stop staring at her. The kind of pretty where you just want to fade into her and be next to her; the kind of pretty where nothing compares to her but it just watches her too.

Like the sun behind her, it isn’t jealous, it just admires her and shines off her skin.

She’s smirking at you, her knees bending into an offensive position, her spear pointing at you.

“He’s watching,” she taunts, and you’re really not in the mood for a lecture and the loss of dessert privileges, so you copy her.

“I’m not the best-”

She spins forward, spear arcing toward you. You yelp, raising your sword up to block her spear. They slam together.

“You’ll do fine,” she smiles, so smug in a way that makes you want to slap her and kiss her all at once.

“Whatever,” you mumble as she pulls back.

But you feel a little more confident with her praise, launching a surprise attack. She seems a little shocked, but she blocks it, probably a bit closer than normal.

“Feisty,” she murmurs.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

She launches her own attack, more force behind it this time, and it’s harder to stop her, but you do, you push her back.

“It means you’re exactly like I thought you were.”

You frown, because what is she even saying, but she launches another attack, smiling brightly as you block it, her eyes never leaving your form.

It’s a blurry of your heartbeat in your ears, her smile, the clash of her spear and your sword, the rest of the field coming to life with the sound of metal on metal, wins and losses.

Your arm is growing heavy.

But you keep your eyes open, blocking her attacks and waiting for an opening you’re not sure will ever come.

Finally, she reveals her side, and you swing, your sword clanging as it hits her metal armor.

She looks down at your sword and then you.

When she looks up again, it’s never the same.

—-

“Did you let me win that first day?”

You’re in the woods with her, so many months after that first day, and it all still feels like it was yesterday. You’re laying on a blanket on the soft grass, facing each other, limbs tangled together and her arm around you.

“Hm?” she says, slightly sleepy.

“When we sparred?”

“Oh,” she smiles, yawns. “Yeah, I let you win.”

You gasp and hit her arm.

“Clar, that’s, like, horrible. Our relationship was built on lies.”

You’re the only person allowed to call her that.

She frowns. “It wasn’t. What are you talking about?”

“I was gloating over you for months, and you let me-”

“Okay, but, you still won. I just helped you a bit. That’s what a good girlfriend should do.”

“You were not my girlfriend then.”

“Yeah, but you wanted me to be. For how long? Four years?”

You roll yours eyes. “You bumped into me once and then became obsessed with me.”

She smiles against you as she kisses your forehead.

“Who wouldn’t?” she snorts. “Not my fault you bumped into me in a way no one else ever has, angel.”

“My love language is just bumping into people, I think.”

“Then you can’t bump into anybody but me. Or else I’d kill them, probably.”

“A true romantic.”

She wraps her arms around you, muscles flexing as she pulls you on top of her.

“Only for you, angel,” she says, eyes falling closed again. “‘M cold, be my blanket.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all rough and tough?”

“Can’t be with you,” she yawns. “Love you too much. Now shush. I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“You big baby,” you mumble. “Big bad Clarisse needs to fall asleep with her girlfriend and get her full eight hours or else she’ll go on a rampage.”

“Damn right.”

Clarisse is the type of pretty that just makes you wanna fade into her. And you do, in the light of the rising moon, the light of the fading sun. You fade into her.

—-

y/n when clarisse helps her on her first day: wow, an angel 😍😍

clarisse when y/n bumps into her: wow, an angel 😍😍

ALSO CLARISSE CALLING Y/N ANGEL???? I THINK I’VE FOUND MY NEW OBSESSION Y’ALL

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies

[vigilskeep]

now that you finished inquisition, what did you think of it? like favorite things, least favorite, etc?

oh man okay

things i love about dragon age inquisition:

capturing the specific feeling of bonding with a group of people you have absolutely nothing in common with because u all had to go through something long and specific together

the maps can be so pretty and in places really calming and lovely to spend time in. it does make me want to explore and i have no explorer’s instinct

i love the war table and judgements i think those are really fun features

i like that approval for many major decisions applies to everyone regardless of who you bring to specific events/quests. it feels a lot less like you have to manage that really hard, as you sometimes do in the other games and also really noticeably to me in something like baldur’s gate 3. it’s irritating when i have to plan ahead and can’t take who i want to hear from

i like how attached you can get to little npcs who wander around

i loveeeee fighting dragons and how beautiful they all are

little puzzles <3

the collectibles are also mostly fine by me i am a magpie by nature. as long as i can find them, obviously, bc if i can’t they suck and this whole game sucks

the templar specialisation is fun and i enjoyed that part of combat a lot. wrath of heaven/spell purge combo is a power trip

i thought my character was pretty :) i defeated u in the end dai character creator. may you be as merciful when we meet in battle once more

i’m not a huge crafter but being able to tint things is rlly nice

blackwall’s romance is good

vivienne is there

they let me briefly tame a dragon at the end there

things i don’t love about dragon age inquisition:

some genuine cruelty in writing the dalish in a way that feels shockingly callous to the real world cultures the writers took inspiration from

never giving the dalish or the rebel mages any kind of voice of their own and making the player do all that work if they care, which i also feel limits my roleplaying creativity

refusing to let you challenge any of the often overwhelmingly conservative views expressed by other characters without receiving only derision and disapproval. inquisition is a game that punishes you at every turn for having your own opinions, in a way that could be interesting if it was willing to truly let you develop complex or antagonistic relationships with those characters, but ends up mostly just feeling mocking when nobody ever even tries to see your side, while simply agreeing with these people always rewards you with content. origins was capable of letting you engage in discussion, and da2 let you form rivalries that mattered; inquisition, despite starring some of the most intentionally controversial characters, does neither

the game engineering conflicts against groups like the freemen of the dales or the avvar that mean nothing to the player and range from vaguely to seriously upsetting in their assumptions about who it’s normal to just start killing en masse. it’s both boring and distressing

odd, for lack of a better word “casting choices”, like having the fantasy impoverished racial minority all be white within the party while the wealthiest and most privileged are characters of colour, or for a more in-world example having the elves express the most distaste towards elves and the mages express the most caution about mages. i don’t know that i quite have the vocabulary to fully discuss why these weird me out, but it all feels... disingenuous? and chosen to forestall criticism based on real world comparisons in a game series that i wish had the nerve to openly confront what it’s talking about if it’s going to try to make any of its conflicts feel relevant

most of the companions, and indeed most of the quests and time spent playing the game, feel disconnected from the main plot. it’s hard to feel any pressure when the game tells you we need to deal with the main plot “right now!” and “get there before corypheus!” when the bulk of the game is doing other things while you’re supposed to be doing that. the majority of companions could be cut without changing anything. and when you finally want to deal with the main plot you just click to start it. it’s not engaging

the game fails to fully expand dialogue for the player character options it provided, particularly notable with its confusing chantry focus when you’ve said for the dozenth time you’re not andrastian

the 2-handed weapon whirlwind ability sound effect is an exercise in creating the worst and most grating sound effect for someone to constantly hear

they didn’t let me romance vivienne

they killed my dragon :(

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Another quick one before sleep. This is honestly becoming a fun wind down exercise to relax before bed! I highly recommend just letting the words come as they come and disconnect for a moment.

Shout out to @impyssadobsessions and @emeraldsandamethyst for hyping me up as I write this fic! Thank you for the support!

Part 1 || Part 3 - Part 5

----

Jazz flexed her right hand and picked up the wooden spoon again. Her knuckles were definitely bruised and it was going to be annoying for a day or two. 

She sighed. 

Not even making her favorite soup was proving capable of cheering her up anymore. She kept going back to Hood screaming at her after the bank robbery earlier that afternoon, how he grabbed her and pushed her away.

His constant rejection stung, and she wasn’t stupid — smiling and having a positive attitude wasn’t going to magically change his mind. She tried to prove she was smart, resourceful and strong enough; and if it wasn’t enough for him then there was nothing she could do.

She could try her luck with the other bats, but she didn’t know if he had already warned them about her or something.

Jazz tried the soup and winced. It was… not fine. Tasted slightly burnt and needed more salt. She shouldn’t be cooking while in a bad mood since she was messing even the soup she could do with her eyes closed.

A soft tap on her balcony window made her jump and then chide herself for being so easily startled.

She turned, finding the same vigilante she had been thinking about. What did he want?

He said something, but his voice was muffled through the glass, and with the helmet’s voice modulation she couldn’t make the words. Jazz pointed at her ears and shook her head. The man sighed, given how his shoulders slumped, and took off his helmet.

Jazz’s eyes were glued to the white locks of hair he had at the front. 

“I want to talk.” He said.

She considered him — the disarmed body language, the tense lips that weren’t a smile, his fingers tapping the helmet. She was sad and a little bit mad about the incident that day but…

She checked the soup one more time and sighed, turning off the stove and putting the pot away.

“What do you want?” Maybe she could have said that less like she wanted to bite his head off, but she was tired and mad and hungry. And he had been an asshole to her for the better part of a month.

Hood just stood there, quiet. She raised an eyebrow.

“Your food sucks.”

Jazz took in a deep breath and moved to close her balcony glass door, considering the conversation over. 

“Wait,” he stopped her from totally closing the door, “I didn’t mean that.”

She glared at the whiteouts of his domino mask. “You don’t have to lie, I know I’m not a good cook.”

“Okay, then your food has… room to improve?”

This made her chuckle, but it was more because of the face he made. He looked completely out of place, trying to play nice like this. 

“What do you want?” She asked again, reopening the glass door. This time, she also made a gesture to let him inside if he wanted. Surprisingly enough, he followed, his helmet under one arm. “Want something to drink? I may have some apple juice, but I’m not sure.”

“Beer?”

“Are you drinking on the job, Mr. Hood?” She smirked, enjoying the way he huffed at her words.

“Call me just Hood.” He shook his head. “And I’m fine just like this. I’m not staying long anyway.”

She shrugged. “What do you want?” She asked for the third time.

Jazz watched him shuffle his feet and run a gloved hand through his hair. He was nervous, avoiding her eyes. He reminded her so much of Danny, and how hard it was for him to open difficult conversations.

“After— After you left, I saw the snipers. Thank you.” He added with a small voice. It was genuine. “They could have really turned the situation to something worse, and… and I couldn’t… I didn’t…”

“It’s fine. You were busy.”

He was talking about the guys on the rooftops that she took care of, and the reason why she couldn’t follow him into the bank on time before the lockdown. She tried to explain, but he cut her off so rudely so he might have found them tied up and knocked out where she left them.

He shook his head again. “I didn’t let you explain.”

“No, you didn’t.” What was the point in sugar coating? “You were, and excuse my wording, a grade A asshole.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.” He sighed. “That I am.” He cleared his throat but didn’t speak for a few moments. Jazz waited patiently as he gathered his words. “I’m not a good mentor. I don’t even know what I could offer you. And I’m a ‘grade A asshole’, but… You are one tough motherfucker to keep coming back again and again... And you did me a solid today… I guess what I’m trying to say is—”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, I will be your student.” She smiled and extended her hand. “When do we start, teacher?”

----

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[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Watching Horror Movies Together

Super Short Headcanons || Modern Au

Genre: Fluff Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: None - super casual writing

AN: I know no one requested this but I was on a horror binge last night and couldn't stop thinking about how these guys would act during a scary movie marathon so I wrote a quick thing in my notes app to post teehee~ ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Is not scared at all - literally impossible to scare.

Thinks horror movies are predictable and kind of boring.

However, God forbid a dog dies in the movie because he will get up and turn it off and say that the writers went too far.

Grumbles and groans on movie nights where you choose a horror movie, but will always wrap an arm around you and insist of sharing a blanket because he just likes spending time with you and being able to hold you close.

Will tease you for your bad taste in movies but secretly loves watching them with you and finds himself getting sucked into them every now and then.

John Marston:

Is on the edge of his seat the whole time.

Claims he's watching them because he thinks they're funny, but actually really enjoys trying to figure out who the killer is and who's going to die when and where.

Jumps at every jump scare but acts like he didn't.

He needs to watch a Disney movie afterwards so he doesn't have nightmares. Will say it's for your sake and not his, though.

Man acts all big and bad, but once the music starts to get intense and there's a long hallway on the screen he is looking everywhere but at the TV so he isn't jumpscared again.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Probably taking notes during psychological horror movies on how to be manipulative.

Says the killer is misunderstood or that their tragic backstory makes the killing justified.

He will eat all the popcorn and then get upset when it's all gone. Cue the puppy eyes while he's begging you to go make more.

Spends a good forty-five minutes talking about how you and him would survive the movie because y'all are so much smarter than the main characters and would make it out of there.

Genuinely believes he's invincible and could survive any scenario.

Javier Escuella:

HATES horror movies because they genuinely scare him.

Well, he can handle slashers but he hates paranormal movies since he believes in ghosts 100% no questions asked.

Loves making a snack buffet for the movie - popcorn, candy, cookies, sodas, fries, and the works.

Encourages you to cuddle into him and hold him whenever you get too scared since he's so big and brave.

Will end up being the one hiding his face in your shoulder and holding you like a teddy bear because he got freaked out.

Charles Smith:

Loves to analyze horror movies in -like- an artistic way.

His favorite types are historical horrors because so much thought goes into them.

He will watch silly horror with you, though, like Scream and Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, but will spend the whole movie making fun of you. Lightheartedly, of course, he's saying that those aren't real scary movies and that you're kind of a wuss.

The entire movie his arm is wrapped around you and pressing you deep into his side so that you can cuddle and be warm. It's a little too comfortable though and you end up falling asleep there more often than not.

Loves it when you do that, it makes him feel all soft and warm on the inside.

Sean MacGuire:

Makes jokes the entire time.

Literally has something to say every 2 minutes that has the both of you laughing instead of being scared.

Honestly, it's the only way he can get through the whole movie.

If you start getting sucked into the movie and he's too nervous to fully focus on the screen, he will start throwing popcorn at you to get your attention.

Halfway through the movie he will make you pause it so that he can have a mental break from all the scary stuff and gore. Totally turns into a make-out session and the movie is long forgotten.

Sadie Adler:

Absolutely nothing fazes her, she LOVES scary movies.

She knows all the behind-the-scenes info about every movie you watch too because she deep dives into interviews and essays after watching them the first time.

Her eyes are glued to the screen but will have you lay your head in her lap so she can run her fingers through your hair to soothe you when you get scared.

Makes fun of you when you react at a jump scare. When you look up at her with a frown, she'll press kisses all over your face until you can't help but smile.

She loves that she can make you feel comforted and safe when you're scared, secretly loves it even more when you try to go to bed after the movie and you're clinging to her like a koala because you're still a little spooked by the film.

<><><><>

I know summer isn't even close to over yet, but I am so excited for Halloween this year, so here's a little Halloween in July (think like that Gravity Falls episode)

Hope you enjoyed <3

[morken1396]

I'm Done. Helluva Boss has officially lost me.

I finally tried to watch Apology Tour this evening. I made it to 9m58s and I just could NOT go any further in the episode. I very honestly had to close the browser because I was cringing so hard. So I have no idea what happened past Verosika cutting the Blitz cake, other than what I've seen online from y'all.

And that's saying something, considering I managed to make it through the painful, cringe-worthy Stolas/Blitz confrontation at the end of "Full Moon".

Please feel free to let me know if any future episodes are truly worth watching, but I just keep getting the absolute "Ick" from Viv and Co. regarding most of the HB/HH content in 2024.

It's odd and weirdly humbling to be in a position where I used to defend these shows and the writers (to an extent), but I just can't anymore. I'm done. The narrative in HH and especially HB is so painful for me to watch, now. You may disagree, which is absolutely, positively fine!

Power to you if you enjoy it, but I don't, anymore.

My genuine facial expression for the entire first ten minutes of "Apology Tour" that I could manage to stomach was LITERALLY this:

I'm done.

I still enjoy HB's first few S1 episodes before HB bought in so heavily into becoming the "Stolitz" show (I'm fully aware Stolas was featured from the start, but he was very villain-coded in the beginning, and I loved it, and its past potential storyline implications).

And I will admit that I find the original Fizz/Oz content from "Ozzie's" and pieces of S2 E6&7 to be enjoyable. I'm still an absolute sucker for Fizzarolli - sue me.

But let me be clear, Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel were never - in my eyes - well-done, artistic, or particularly poignant. They were fun, but that was the end of it. They weren't/aren't well-written.

They're not "important", which is fine. Content doesn't have to be important, impactful, or "well done" in order for people to enjoy it.

They were fun, and fun only. But now, they are trying to be "good", and they (HB, esp.) are not that. Because, frankly, Viv truly isn't capable of writing that way. Which - again - is fine!! Not everything has to be cinematically excellent and objectively "good" in order to be enjoyable to the audience.

We can enjoy content without it having to be important.

But please stop trying to make your fun IMP plotline into a melodrama that you, yourself, are not mature enough to write WELL, Vivienne. Stop playing HB as suddenly "important" with storylines that are complex and inward-focused when you have failed to set them up as such from the start.

Ret-conning is not good writing, and you're relying on it far too much. Particularly with your dear, sweet Stolas.

And frankly, I'm tired.

We should have a "Viv Sucks" party every Halloween, instead.

[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: In a crowd full of adoring fans, Harry can’t seem to take his eyes off the girl standing front row, who won’t look up from her phone—I mean, why the hell come to a One Direction concert, have one of the best spots in the house, and not look at him at least once??? What happens when Harry takes it upon himself to get Romee’s attention? Will he be “that” asshole, or is he as charming as he thinks?

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Yay! I finally had time to write! enjoy!!

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @simplebuteffectivex @sassamanda77

Warning: Mature, Eventual Smut, Strong Language, Angst.

To say I lost it at the concert was an understatement—Not only did I break up with my boyfriend through text. My phone was stolen by that guy Harry—please forgive me, but I still don’t know his last name. All I know is that he went out of his way to get my phone and then had the audacity to read my texts—what the fuck!

Sure, I guess—cool—have a little fun, but don’t you think it would have been more entertaining if it were at the expense of someone else, you know, someone that might have actually enjoyed it—got off on the fact that the hottest member of the band was singling them out, but fuck, I was on the verge of a breakdown, and the second they started singing. I lost it!

And why did he have to be so fucking cute sitting there, singing such heart-wrenching lines, with that sexy rasp cutting me to my core—and Clara—Clara knew I was going to freak once I had the opportunity to finally unload—and god the way the fans were going crazy, tugging and swaying me in every which direction, losing their minds as if I were the “chosen one.” 

I didn’t want the attention or the praise; I just wanted to get the hell out of there—I just wanted my phone back.

Why would he even want my phone? Surely, he had a lot more going on than a girl like 

me from Oklahoma. The only interesting thing about me is that I like to read and enjoy music, but clearly, not his kind of music, or at least my pride won’t let me enjoy anything coming from his mouth because I’m so fucking mad.

I think it was voodoo or some kind of magic because the second we locked eyes. I swear I could feel my brain oozing, flipping through every emotion running through my mind like a picture book, this uncontrollable urge flooding my system.

The chemicals in my brain fucking altering as he walked over, his microphone pressed to his perfect mouth; I thought, “Wow…those pictures we crept last night don’t even touch the surface.” and suddenly I’m a fan girl getting sucked in by the charm—and when he crouched down in front of me, hair falling in his face, he knew it—Harry knew how hot he was, running a hand through his hair, a cunning grin turned up at the corner of his mouth—he was smug with the effortless act of it all, waving the security guard over, the man filling the hopeless space between us. He whispered something in the man’s ear, eyes never leaving mine, and I’m telling you I was physically shaking. It was like a sensory overload of the greatest proportions. I could feel the hundreds of eyes beating down my back, everyone craning their necks to get a better look—at him—at me.

With ease, Harry hands the man my phone, sending me a wink as he stretches to his feet—so tall, dammit—towering in front of me on the stage. His playful smile says it all, and when the man hands me the phone, I force myself to look away, shoving it in the purse slung across my body—At that moment, I don’t trust anyone. I didn’t know what the fans were capable of, but I’m telling you, I genuinely felt fear when they were bumping into me, trying to get his attention—that’s another thing; he should know better than to put someone in danger like that��what an asshole.

Okay—and I’m back at mad—and he is staring at me, and it feels more confusing than me sending my boyfriend a breakup text—ex-boyfriend—because at least his intentions were clear—was this just for entertainment’s sake? All the phones recording me now make me think this is just a game, like maybe he does this often—and now I can feel the heat crawling, a slow burn rising to my face. 

And god, what does my face look like right now? Is my makeup everywhere? “I’m sorry—” he says, “Please, don’t hate me…” and his British accent has me swooning again, his hand running through his hair—it’s unfair—like being in this boy band has blessed him with the gift of persuasion—he’s mastered it I’ll give him that, and as my eyes roam his body I’m taking in more details—details that make me want to leap this fucking barrier and explore the crazy thoughts circling my mind right now as my eyes travel down his body…

Fuck!—he catches me staring, shooting me a knowing grin that squeezes my inside with a curious wonder—almost primal—when I glimpse a peek of a tattoo lining his waist. I pull Clara into me, leaning close to her ear, and all I can say is, “Holy fuck—”

So—yes, there was attraction, I’ll give him that too, but fuck, why did it have to be tonight of all nights—because now I can feel my phone vibrating in my purse, and I know who it is, and now it’s taking me out of the moment and into a mournful despair that I don’t think I could shake right now, no matter how cute the boy in front of me is—and yes—I know, for some this would be a one and a lifetime chance, but fuck Harry for putting me in this situation and fuck Tyler for even existing because I am so angry at him right now. 

Here, I was feeling every range of emotion trying to be present, and then the boys announced that this was their last song. Do you want to know what I did? I cried because what the hell was my life right now? I was miserable at best; I was lost in a crowd of people emanating every sense of happiness and joy— but when their sadness filled the venue, we all felt it. Their tears of grief became my tears of grief. The gloom they felt when the boys sang their last line made me numb, and so I didn’t even chance a second glance at Harry when I walked away from that stage.

I didn’t say a word the whole trek through the venue, ignoring girls who wanted to take a picture because—they couldn’t believe Harry stole my phone—Clara became my other half, held my hand, leading our way through the crowd. At some point, I must have genuinely dissociated because somehow, we were at Clara’s apartment, crossing the threshold of the doorway like we had just run a marathon.

Without thought, I walked to her couch and slumped down into the cushions, becoming the “sloth of a human” I was lurching toward with every passing second. I kicked my boot off, swinging my legs up onto the couch, and fell back into the pillows, feeling a ripple of announce when the strap of my purse started choking me, and I leaned forward enough to sling it over my head, trashing it to the floor with a loud thud. 

“Is it safe to talk yet?” Clara asks, toeing her shoes off and kicking them toward mine.

“I never said it wasn’t—” I tell her, my head drifting toward her as she sits in front of the couch next to me.

She purses her lip, her eyes shifting to the ground like “Yeah right,” and shakes her head, “I’m sorry I gave your phone away—”

“It’s fine—” I force.

“No…seriously—I was just so caught up in the moment, and you know how I get…”

“Clara—it’s fine really…it’s over now…”

She laughs, pushing my shoulder, “But can we talk about how crazy that was?” 

“I—I don’t know…” I mutter, crossing an arm over my eyes before Clara can catch sight of the tears welling because, of course, now I’m crying—again.

Clara clicks her tongue, trying to pry my arm from my face, but it only makes me cry harder, “I broke up with Ty—” I confess, pushing the words through heaving breaths of guilt—shame—I don’t know. How can one be reeling from a breakup and on some kind of high, all because some cute boy wanted to flirt with me—wait, was he flirting? The thought dries my tears fast—because fuck Tyler— A fucking singer from a famous boy band just hit on me, and I’m crying over spilled milk that was way past its expiration date. 

“Clara…?” I pull my arm away from my face, wiping at the tears still spilling at the corner of my eyes.

“Are you going to ask me if I think you made the right decision?” she asks, and my gaze flicks to her face, worry creasing her brow, and I think I already know what she’s going to say.

“Because I’ve always hated him—” she clarifies, and I know this. She’s been begging me for years to end it with him, “I think you can do better—”

“Fuck—Romee…Harry Styles was hitting on you tonight, dude—like hitting on—you!”

“Was he hitting on me?” I question, just for confirmation, because yeah, was that all even real? 

She laughs out, grabbing my arm, jerking it back and forth until my whole body is moving with the motion, “Okay—”

“Okay—so what—? it’s not like anything is going to come from it…” I tell her. 

“I mean, that was a one and a lifetime chance—you could have worked that in so many ways…I mean—” she says, shaking her head like it’s the end of the world, like, “Man, you really fucked this one…”

The thought makes my stomach twist as I try to brush off her words, but deep down, I know she’s right, “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now—can I?” 

Clara sits up, eyes widening like a light bulb flicking on, “What—?” I ask, a nervous sheen of sweat already marking my palms—it’s truly terrifying when she gets this way. She’s so much more outgoing. She loves this kind of stuff—In fact, this is exactly her vibe, so why isn’t this happening to her?

“I think you should slide into his DM…” She says without a single conviction, like that’s not the craziest idea ever. 

“Clara…slide into his DM’s?” I ask, arching a brow.

“And say what?” 

“I don’t know anything…like “Hey, you stole my phone…” is a start…it could be anything—”

“He’s like famous—famous, Clara…yeah, right?”

“Oh my god, Romee, can you like just for one time in your life—live?” she spits, all playfulness gone. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks because was that not just what Tyler was asking?

I shake my head, casting my eye to the floor, shame heating my body, and all I can picture is Tyler already fucking some other girl. “All I’m trying to say is that—I’m sure there are hundreds of girls pouring into his DM’s right now trying to claim that line…”

When I look back at Clara, remorse stings her features. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That wasn’t fair…”

“It’s fine—maybe there’s just a little bit of truth there…” I say, pinching my thumb and index fingers together. 

“But I think you’re right…I don’t know what our in would be…” Clara agrees.

“Oh—maybe I can get my dad to buy us more tickets—?”

“I don’t know Clara…I can’t imagine that those tickets were cheap…” I tell her.

“No—you’re right…and I still need him to pay my rent. I’m not ready to get a job,” Clara said so seriously, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” she asks, with a slow-spreading smile.

“You lucky bitch—that’s all…” I say

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes, “And now you don’t have an excuse not to move here…I have an extra room, dammit! My dad is already paying the rent.”

“I know—” Clara looks down at my purse then. My phone buzzing through my bag makes a loud zipping sound against the wood floor, drawing her out of the conversation. 

I clear my throat, “I already know who it is—don’t answer it!”

And being Clara, she reaches for my bag, swiping it from my reach before I can react—damn—this is the second time tonight. Clearly, I have not learned my lesson.

“Clara—please, dude…”

“No—just let me give him a piece of my mind for once…I’ve been so good…like this whole time, and how many years has it been…four? “

“You owe me this—” she tells me as she types in my passcode. The screen flashes in front of her face, but she has a weird look, a reaction that isn’t matching up.

“Who is this random number calling you?” she asks, and I sit up, trying to glimpse the number, but she’s answering the call before I even have the chance.

“Hello—?” she says, raising a brow. There’s a moment of silence before she perks up, eyes going wide. 

“What?” I whispered, attempting to get her attention. I stare at her, trying to gather context clues, but she’s gone mute, eyes bulging with excitement, and out of nowhere, she squeals and tosses the phone on the couch, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

“What the fuck, Clara—?” I hiss, reaching for my phone. Whoever it is is still on the line, the seconds counting up on the screen, and when I bring the phone to my ear, she squeals again—louder this time—and I pace to the guest bedroom, lazily closing the door behind me. 

“Hello?” I say into the phone, already skeptical of the caller. Why would Clara react that way? 

“Hi—it’s Harry—please don’t scream into the phone again…” he says, his British drawl filling the line.

“O—kay—hold on one sec…” I tell him, bounding to the door, and I don’t know why but I’m holding the phone out like it’s the plague, but inwardly, I’m freaking the fuck out—becuase holy shit how is this happening? And then I realize he’s waiting. So I bring the phone to my ear, drawing in a slow breath through my nose.

“Harry—” I say, peeking my head around the door frame—Clara is in full panic mode, pacing back and forth like she is waiting to hear some sort of verdict. When she catches sight of me, she raises her arms in question.

“Still—here…” he says, and I think he’s yawning, his words stretching with an exhale. 

“That was my friend that answered the phone…sorry about that—”

“Wait—how did you get my number?”

“What do you mean?” he laughs.

“I mean—” I start, pulling the phone away from my ear to check the time—it’s almost 1 a.m.—and I’m thinking what the actual fuck could he want. 

“I mean, like, why are you calling? I ask, a nervous flutter building in the pit of my stomach—this is both thrilling and scary, even if this was a regular guy. I would still be freaking way out.

“Don’t know, really…” is all he says.

I wait, holding my breath for more, and when he doesn’t say anything, I exhale a silent breath, “Okay…so—”

“Can I see you?” he asks, straight to the point, and I slam the door shut, pressing my back flat against it. 

I’m at a loss for words, “ummm….I don’t know—”

“Is it a weird ask?” and he kind of laughs because I’m sure he already knows the answer. 

“Harry—” 

“Wait—what’s your name? I’ll need a name to tell security—”

“Security—? Oh my god—wait, what? Who says I’m going?” I question, smiling to myself as I make a slow descent downward, sliding down the door until my butt hits the ground—until I can press my hand flat against the cold hardwood floor, the chill meaning this moment is real and that this is happening. 

“My name is Romee—” I tell him softly.

“Well, Romee…is that a yes? Or a no?” he asks, and the deep rasp of his voice unsettles me in ways I haven’t felt in a long time—because when was the last time I felt this excited, had something to look forward to?

“Romee—before you answer that. It’s okay if you don’t want to come. I’m realizing now how strange this all must be…”

“Yeah…strange—” I whisper, a bit dazed, him saying my name stirring something internal. I keep picturing him on that stage, remembering all the ways I had imagined him—the details that had my head spinning. 

“It’s just—” he begins but doesn’t finish the thought. I’m holding my breath again, listening to his slow breaths, anxiously waiting for him to say anything.

“It’s just what? Harry—” I gently nudge.

“I just—I don’t—” he exhales a loud breath into the phone, maybe frustrated. It’s making me nervous and desperate to know. 

“Gosh—” I laugh, “The anticipation alone is making me want to take you up on your offer—”

A low rasp blooms in my ear, “No—I’m sorry—” he says, now laughing. 

“It’s just hard to explain…I don’t know, I just really want to see you…” 

My chest swells with his words. The giddy curiosity of all the possibilities and when he says, “Romee…please—” I squeeze my eyes shut, head falling back against the door—he had me at “Romee”—he could say my name over and over, but when he said “please…” I felt the longing pulse between my legs.

Then he said, “It won’t be weird, I promise—I just—I don’t know…want to make it up to you…” just like that, so casual, like all of this is normal—like me going to his hotel room won’t change me in some way. 

“Harry—” 

“Romee…” he whispers.

I let out a small laugh, “And how will you make it up to me? I ask, voice low, intrigued by the shift taking place.

“Whatever you want…it’s yours…” And his voice is a slow vibration drifting through my body, piquing my curious mind one persuasive word after another, and I’m dying to explore this—him and his body. 

Everything in me wanted to reply with something witty, but “Mmmm…” rose in my throat like a tapered moan I kept sealed behind my lips, nearly giving myself away. 

“That’s a yes, then?” he rasps. 

“Harry…” I whisper.

“Romee…”

“Say my name again…” I whisper softer this time.

“Romee…please…I promise—”

And there it was again, that pulse now humming up my spine. “What’s the address?” I ask because I’m weak, and I want whatever he’s trying to give, and I deserve this—He owes me after all, right? 

A/N: Tag list open! Can't wait to get this story moving!!

Previous Chapters<-

[meirimerens]

how do i get into drawing more? i've enjoyed drawing since i was a child but i never really practiced it that much and as such most of my stuff is pretty rudimentary from a technique standpoint. i only have physical supplies and i cannot afford an ipad or a drawing pad any time soon

there is no need for an ipad or a tablet if you don't already draw something expansive you don't even have to worry about that. I (and i imagine many/most artists who began drawing young) got my start on normal paper sheets the one they call "printer paper" because it's thin and textureless. Actually that might be a lie because I think that even before that I was drawing on walls so truly full circle of a thing.

The only stuff you need to draw are something To Draw With, whether it be a pencil or a pen; if it is a pencil also have an eraser, a no-bullshit rectangular eraser, I've literally never understood what the good was in the pink & blue ones beyond making holes & stamps in them, just get a normal good eraser, slightly squishy so it doesn't pull at the paper like a maniac when you use; And paper to draw in. I'd say get a sketchbook for the convenience + the chill of it all. Doesn't even have to be thicker "drawing paper" it can just be a random, lineless notebook. I like mine to have a spiral spine so I can take full advantage of the page but don't even need that. Genuinely for years this was my drawing material (+ whatever paper I found, including my school supplies)

(Staedtler eraser very good actually I've been using it for 10yrs among the better I've used if you find it get yourself one. This shit was like 1.50€ at my local papeteries and then again they mightve inflated the price)

Now I'm gonna tell you about my life because I think it colors the way I approach drawing and as such the advice I'll give you: I started drawing really young (like pre-dates knowing how to read or write) and never stopped. That means I, technically, have some 20+ years of drawing, but I still struggle with what are kinda "fundamentals". I only quite late, technically speaking, gotten into trying my hand as perspective & naturalistic anatomy. That's because I had, at the start, nothing but passion.

And that's gonna be the one piece of advice I have for you:

Get really, really into something, and start trying like the devil to get good at drawing it.

When I was a wee lad I loved horses so much (and I still do.) and all I wanted to do was get good at drawing horses so I could draw stories with horses, so I practiced drawing horses from the horse magazines i had. Around 11, I got really into manga and all I wanted to do was get good at drawing manga so I could draw my own (a lot of my actually like Formative Years of drawing was manga, and I think it's still visible especially when I draw cartoony faces these days), so I practiced drawing manga from the how-to books their were at the library (and we had actually good ones, including Japanese mangaka's translated into french). Around 14, I got really into Video Game, and all I wanted to do was get real good at drawing the characters, so i practiced from youtube tutorials & other internet finds. Nowadays I'm into art history & archeology, and go out of my way to see and grasp and understand #whateverthiswas and try to pepper it (or sometimes dump the whole bag) in my images.

If you're starting "from nothing", I feel like practicing anatomy for the sake of anatomy (for example) will just piss you off. When you get more into the groove of things, and actually want to Get Serious, you'll sit down to Actually Practice, but I personally have always found that Learning for the Passionate Goal makes the whole thing more interesting than Learning To Learn To Then Attempt The Passionate Goal.

It's gonna suck for a while. It truly will. You'll see every improvement so drastic you'll be like ewww what was that 2 months ago. But you will HAVE HAD FUN DOING IT!!!

Tldr

1) get into something. Whatever it is.

2) collect tools and tutorial to serve whatever it is you're into, and not try to get into the tools: that will come later, once you're already in the habit of drawing.

3) you don't need fancy material

4) never underestimate the power of the humble ballpoint pen and clicky pencil

5) train your brain, the muscle of your brain, to conjure up images until there is nothing you can do BUT exteriorize them lest they poison you

6) you don't have to post anything online btw. In fact, I attribute the fact that I have always loved art so much to the fact that for the first 15yrs of my life I could truly just enjoy the process and vibe. I still do, don't take me wrong, and truly I draw for myself and you're all trapped in here with me. Looking at the slop i feed you. But there is an inherent, new dimension added with Being The Blogger. So have fun and vibe.

7) the heart is the horse, the hands are the rider

[mvlders222]

hii, could you write about Natalie scatorccio and a reader with anxiety problems?

I know it's a sensitive topic and I will understand if you don't want to write about this.

(sorry if I don't express myself well, English is not my native language)

a/n; hi!! thank you for the request. i hope i wrote this well and to your liking. reader's gender is female. i have a handful of people in my life with clinical anxiety, but i also did my research before diving into this topic. if the way i describe these feelings isn't accurate, please let me know so i can edit/rewrite this fic.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

pairing ; natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

wordcount ; 1.1k

summary ; nat invites you to one more party, and you typically never accept. she reasons that this would be the last one before your guys’ flight tomorrow for nationals. this however doesn’t seem to go as planned…

warnings ; anxiety, overthinking, sorta angst to fluff, alcohol, underage drinking, mention of smoking (let me know if there's any more!)

You and Natalie had been dating for two months now. And you knew each other even earlier than that. But throughout your time knowing her, she had never not invited you to any event whether it be a smoke sesh or a bonfire.

And you had always turned her down. This wasn’t your way of rejecting her, but it wasn’t exactly your crowd. You could only conjure up the most ridiculous and almost impossible situations that would happen because you just showed up in a social setting.

Your guys’ first date in your backyard where you guys shared a pizza and your first kiss (probably not a good kiss with the pizza). The point was that it was in the privacy of your own home.

You know Nat would never force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to do. But considering how she felt going to these parties without you, you decided you finally show. So she came to your house minutes before the party to help you prepare.

There you stood in front of your mirror, Natalie behind you looking at your guys’ reflection. She had her hands on your shoulders and smiled at you through the mirror.

She was dressed in a leather jacket and worn in Doc Martins. She had a red pleated skirt and ripped fishnets and a plethora of rings adorned her fingers. She had smudged eyeliner around her eyes but it was meant to look like that.

You were simply wearing a long sleeve since it was chilled out. A pair of thrifted jeans that were your favorite pair, despite them already being worn.

“Are you ready?” She smiled at you and you nodded. She kissed your cheek and grabbed your hand to drag you out of your bedroom and your house.

It wasn’t a far walk, just further out into the woods so you both walked there, hand in hand.

“Have you ever been to one of these before?” Nat smirked. It wasn’t mean, it was a genuine question. “You just never wanna come with me when I offer.”

“Not really to any parties. I’ve been to the football games but I never have any fun there,” you shrugged. You were the type to stay in and enjoy a movie, rather than agree with people who speak in majority filler words. It was exhausting to try and find any way to talk to these people without absolutely crumbling.

“I thought it’d be nice though. Since we leave tomorrow,” you smiled. You looked at the dead leaves on the ground as the two of you walked together.

As you got closer and closer to the bonfire, you could see the light and hear a mix of chatter, laughter, and music. A heavy feeling started to settle in your stomach, but you tried to push it down because what would Nat think if you wanted to turn around?

When you started to catch up with people and run into the couples sucking faces, it was like a middle school dance. People were spread out across the woods, but no one was dancing to the music. All talking in their small groups, holding red solo cups full of something.

“I’m gonna go find a keg.” Natalie let your hand go and walked away from you, walking through different circles of people to find a buzz.

You tried following her, but her trail was too spontaneous. She would push people apart from each other, even when they were invested in a full-on conversation. She would split trees and walk through bushes.

So afraid of losing her, you weren’t paying attention to the others around you, mumbling different “sorry”s to several strangers. Maybe you had been paying too much attention to the people around you and that’s how you lost your girlfriend in the crowds.

You couldn’t ask anyone for help, they seemed to look at you like you snuck onto earth. Whether it was the anxiety or the plethora of circles you’d made searching for Natalie, your nausea was starting to set in.

Your stomach was tied in knots and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t move. Your breathing became shallow. The lights were too bright and the music was too loud, it was hard to even think in a setting like this.

An unexpected hand grasped at your shoulder and tugged you around. Trying not to fall over your own feet, you grabbed at anything physical in front of you.

Your eyes came into focus. “Natty!” You let out what felt like the last breath you’d ever take. You pulled her toward you in a great embrace. You felt a splash at your feet and arms wrap around you hesitantly.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” she apologized earnestly. You both pulled away slightly. “I completely forgot and I feel like a complete jerk-“

“You dropped your beer,” you interrupted her. Your monotone made her smile and laugh. It was something so simple that didn’t compare to the situation that was happening.

“I hadn’t even noticed.” She smiled and pecked the corner of your lips. She looked down at your hand and held it gently with her own, toying with the tips of your fingers. Looking back up to meet your eyes, her face became soft. “Do you wanna go?”

You took a deep breath and looked at her as if she had confused you for someone else. “No, it’s okay! But if you wanna stay. I’ll just go–”

She quickly shushed you and held your face in her hands. “Shh, baby… I love you more than some… party.” She giggled at the situation.

“Are you sure? Have you even talked to your friends yet?” All of your questions made her shut you up again, pressing her lips to yours, trying to get you to stop mumbling into your kiss.

She pulled away and gave you a knowing look. You just replied with a small smile on your lips. Natalie furrowed her brows as she licked her lips once over. “Is that cherry?”

“Yeah, it came in, like, a pack of four.” You giggled in response to her behavior.

“That gives us one more reason to leave,” She moved her hands to grab yours, pulling you away from the rest of the party. “We have to try all of them. If they’re as good as they taste, ya know.”

[saberlibrary]

Ice skating ft. Katsuki Bakugo

Day 01 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — an ice skating night with your boyfriend ends with a nosebleed and a contusion.

word count — 796

content — fluff, minor injuries, swearing, two fools in love, bad writing

notes — welcome to the first day of my event! i’m really excited about this one and i hope you can all enjoy it with me. just to get started, here’s some silly stuff. <3

“If you don’t know how to do it, why would you suggest it?”

It was the third time Bakugo complained behind you, his hands firmly on your waist as you tried to slide through the ice rink, almost falling more than once.

He would find it funny if it wasn’t so concerning.

“Because it seemed fun,” you insisted, and then added, “and easy.”

You were stubborn in a dangerous way, he thought to himself, knowing damn well you wouldn’t stay on your feet for three seconds if he took his hands off you.

“Seems fun and easy because they know what they’re doing, babe,” he laughed.

“Yeah? Watch me, Kats! I’m gonna be the best ice skater by the end of the night.”

A smirk tugged on his lips, a praise getting caught in his throat because he was too much of a prick to give it to you so easily – but that was his girl, so full of determination and defiance.

He could only laugh, smitten as you took his hands off your waist and grabbed on the supports around the rink to stabilize yourself.

“I’m watching you, babe,” he teased, skating around you, close enough to be there for you if needed.

He kept watching you closely for the sake of your safety and it truly amazed him when, less than ten minutes later, you were actually able to skate by yourself – nothing much, slowly and with your hands in the air to keep your balance, but still.

Katsuki chuckled, sliding around you and taking your hand, “Not bad, huh?”

“I’m just getting star–”

Bakugo only saw it when it was too late – a little boy going at full speed in your direction, eyes wide and clearly unable to stop. He crashed into you, still hand-holding Katsuki, and the three of you fell on the ice-cold hard ground.

“Thank you for bringing us here,” Bakugo said gloomily to the kid’s mom, who had the kindness of taking all of you to the hospital.

The little boy was okay – you and Katsuki had dampened his fall – but Bakugo ended up with a nosebleed for falling facefirst and was now waiting for you to take X-rays for an injured ankle.

He sat in the hospital’s waiting room, frustrated and worried that you had broken something.

When you showed up a few minutes later with a walking stick, ankle bandaged and face puffy from crying, he felt like blowing the whole place up. It sucked that a night that was supposed to be fun turned out like this for you, and he felt somewhat responsible.

“Hey, babe… how are you?” he asked softly, so different from the usual, helping you walk towards one of the seats. He couldn’t bring himself to be his normally grumpy self when you looked so sad, his chest tightening.

“I’m ok, it’s ok, just a contusion…” you reassured, gazing at his bandaged nose and then down, “It’s just… I’m sorry, Kats. I shouldn’t have insisted.”

Bakugo immediately stiffened, blinking rapidly. There was no way you were blaming yourself, “What’s that now?”

You felt your eyes burning and fought against the tears, not wanting to cry again, but your voice still broke when you explained, “If I hadn’t insisted I could ice-skate, nothing of this would happen and we would be doing something fun. I wouldn’t need to walk like a grandma and you wouldn’t look like… I don’t know! Like a clown!”

It startled you when Katsuki started laughing. A genuine laugh, his eyes closing as he did and the sound echoing in the room – that sound had the ability to light up the entire city, and you ended up laughing as well. Of the things you said, of the situation, of yourself.

And, in the end, all of it didn’t seem so bad.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had a nosebleed, but I’m glad to know you think I look like a clown,” he commented with a smirk when the laughter died, taking some snacks out from his coat pockets casually. “Got these snacks you like from the machine over there, grandma. I think we can have plenty of fun here… or anywhere, to be honest.”

With tears still threatening to fall down your face, you looked at him with adoration and love shining on your eyes, a happy smile shyly growing on your lips. Katsuki always made you feel better, no matter the situation.

And he carried that smirk – the one that told you he knew everything you didn’t.

“And you were right, by the way,” he resumed his rambling, “If we weren’t interrupted, you were going to be the best ice skater by the end of the night.”

The smirk that showed you that he truly saw you.

[moonsidesong]

finished UT Yellow pacifist ! i really really enjoyed it! i will definitely be going back for the other runs but i'd like to let this sit for at least a few days before i go back in.

extended thoughts below!! yaayay!!!!

ok im sorry to open with a negative thought but if i can be a little mean. ceroba's fight suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks. visually its insanely cool, musically its insanely cool, the presentation overall rocks, but gameplay wise its the worst ive played so far bar none.

i think this game for the most part had pretty fun and interesting bullet patterns for the bosses and, especially in the case of Axis, El Bailador, and Guardener's fights, i really got the sense i was getting a little better each time as i memorized the attacks, which is exactly what i want from a UTDR boss fight! i heart memorization.

... but Ceroba's fight was the only one where i felt like the bullet patterns just had no rhyme or reason to them. i think using several simple attacks to make a layered complicated one is a good idea in theory but in the way they did it i kinda just felt like she was throwing random crap at me and when I did beat it (which took i think around an hour) i sorta just got the impression that i was lucky enough her RNG picked the easier ones a few extra turns in a row rather than feeling like i actually accomplished anything (anything with the gravity black hole added was just kind of a death sentence for me, maybe its a skill issue but i feel like yknow. im okaaayyy at bullet hell... wah...)

also, i dont know much about game design, but the overall momentum of the fight is set up to really only be good if you beat it the first time. which is not great. they make you watch a cutscene every time you die and although it is brief, it breaks things up just a little too long! you get really sick of hearing the first few notes of what are otherwise great songs in her fight, and it makes it harder to feel for her when watching her scream starts to become annoying. i think if it were up to me, it'd be best if when you died, there was no cutscene, and the game over screen didnt have music or text and was JUST the Retry/Continue prompts so you can jump back into the action quickly. if we wanna take it a step further, because the music opens with such intense notes, stop making it start over!!!! pick it up where it left off!!!! maybe even have the game over menu not even stop the music, just muffle it temporarily or something. i dont know. thats what id do if it were up to me but i did not make anything im just a guy writing a tumblr post

anyway hater hour over. i mentioned those three boss fights earlier because they were my favorites. i thought they were really fun. i can see how some people might think the shield mechanic during Axis's fight might suck but it was like easily my favorite actually HAHAHA idk i thought it was fuuuuun heehehe yaay i block the bullets and it makes a good sound sound makea me happy <- this is the hightest compliment you can get from a misophonic player

also the ending made me cry. this isnt saying much because literally everything makes me cry but it did in fact make me cry. u show me characters showing a moment of genuine vulnerability in a bittersweet atmosphere and uh oh

anyway.

i mentioned in my previous thought post that i was interested in seeing where the running theme of "jobs/employment" was going, and seeing it play out into meaning "forever unfinished business" was really good. Martlet quits the Royal Guard having felt like she never really did anything there, neither Chujin nor Ceroba could finish what they set out to do, and Clover never even saw the other human souls. theres probably more than that too thats just what i remeber my memorys actually kinda bad i never remember anything until i play it like three times oops. maybe i should start writing my thoughts as i go instead of making big unorganized writeups on tumblr after the fact.

also this is a really small personal nitpick that doesnt matter but i dont like ceroba's skirt. i think having such a regal traditional outfit otherwise and then just wearing a short skirt that goes above her knees makes her look more like a schoolgirl than it does someone who is like At The Minimum in her thirties. i get not wanting a long skirt to get in the way of her silhouette for her boss fight since shes all like stanced up but at that point just give her pants LOL

i don't care to comment much on the writing, on the whole i really liked it so i dont have as much to say, but i dont think martlet shouldve been there in the room with you for Chujin's tapes. i think that shouldve been a quiet moment with just Clover so it could Sit with you for a second. thats my only writing gripe in this very moment.

anyway GRAHHHH I ENDED UP WRITING A LOT OF THINGS I DIDNT LIKE AND I DONT WANT TO LEAVE WITH THE IMPRESSION I HAD A NEGATIVE EXPERIENCE SO:

MUSIC WAS REALLY GOOD!!! I LIKED ALL THE CHARACTERS!!!! I LIKED MAKING AXIS'S FUNNY ROBOT PARTNER I THOUGHT THAT WAS FUNNY!!!!!!!! ASIDE FROM THE FINAL BOSS I THOUGHT THE GAMEPLAY WAS FUN!!!!! THE MAIL MECHANIC WAS REALLY SILLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I PLAYED WITH MY FRIEND AND I HAD A VERY GOOD TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAAY!!! I VIDEO LOVE GAMES!!!!!!!!!!

thanks for reading! im sure ill have more thoughts to share by the time i do the other routes, but like i said at the start, id like to just sit on my thoughts and let the game simmer for now. my overall opinion is that i thought it was good! not perfect by any means, but very very good. i'm sure i will revisit it someday. and by that i mean right now im gonna draw and watch a bit of saltydkdan's video of it before bed.

if you read this far tell me your favorite hot drink :) lately ive been really obsessed with like, this basic ass cinnamon/nutmeg/coriander chai from target. i put a little honey and cream in it and its like my favorite thing ever i have some every morning. i used to think i only liked fruity teas but my eyes have been truly opened.

[wifegideonnav]

should i read homestuck. like i feel it would be interesting so i could see what yall are talking about in regards to tlt but is homestuck actually good

"is homestuck good" - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 8129 pages of heated debate,

no but seriously, it highkey depends on 1. your definition of good and 2. your tolerance for stupid bullshit. as someone who read tlt and then hs, i'd say that being a fan of the chaotic aspect of tlt is a good predictor of being able to hang in with homestuck.

readmore because this. um. got long. the tl;dr is: i like homestuck a lot and i am glad i read it. i can't tell you if you should read it bc idk your tastes, but there is a lot to like and enjoy about it.

the official pitch for homestuck is something like "4 kids play a game and then a bunch of other shit happens." here's my pitch based on what the core of the story is to me:

several groups of characters across time, space, and reality are brought together in order to succeed at creating a new universe after their own are destroyed. this takes the form of a game, which is called sburb (by the humans) and sgrub (by the trolls). the characters must contend with an eternal battle against good and evil in which they are the deciding factor, and level up while following personalized quests. at its heart, homestuck is about relationships of every sort and how they shape us, growing up and the associated grief and loss, coming into ones identity and choosing who to be, predestination and fate, and stories themselves. it gets very meta at times, and the characters are semi to fully aware that they're characters, and attempt to subvert or escape that. it's got hordes of fleshed out, compelling characters, one of which will almost certainly glom onto you for the rest of your life, real emotion, extremely funny jokes, smart and exciting plotting, and some very cool moments. it more or less invented an entire new genre/medium, and plays with medium in a very cool way.

it is also clunky, hard to get into, and way too convoluted. you will never fully understand what's happening. there are tons of characters whose stories you will follow whom you simply do not care about. there are too many characters. it was written by an edgelord in 2009 so there's some unsavory humor and character writing. it's so fucking long. the ending kinda sucks because the fandom was so toxic that hussie simply wanted it over with. the fandom still kinda sucks tbh. so many people have wrong opinions about it. it requires a very specific lens to approach and understand it. i still dont understand what happened with that fucking puppet someone explain it to me.

overall, i'd say that if you think you want to read it, give it a shot. i have a complicated relationship with it but at the end of the day, i genuinely love the story and the characters and i know they will be with me forever. it certainly enhanced my understanding of tlt, and getting to read more of tamsyn's writing was such a bonus (even though her taste in pairings is. not the same as my own). and like honestly. it's just fun. even when you're going "wait what the fuck just happened" you're having fun. it's really goddamn funny too. it WILL change the way you speak and also think about romance forever.

the best way to read it is to have an experienced reader guide you, but if you or other people don't know anyone like that, here are my basic tips:

i think most people know this already, but download the unofficial homestuck collection. just do it. it's like 4 gigs and it's infinitely better than trying to read on the broken website, and it's even ad free. it can also be modded - for instance ik there's a slur replacer mod (lmao) if you don't want to read those

act 1 sucks to read. you're like what the fuck is this, THIS is homestuck?? the beginning is radically different from how it ends up, so just hang in there. for me, it really picked up somewhere in act 3. just focus on the silly fun the characters are having and you'll be good

things you should actually try to follow in the early acts: the concept of a sylladex existing (the various fetch modi are only there for jokes and eventually just kinda stop being a thing), where all the copies of the game are, what each kid's relationship with their guardian is like, the mechanics of the game and the lore behind it, including classpects and quests

things you do not have to waste brain space on: anything about how the totems work, what the various machines are, what the levels are, basically any of the jokes that would be funny to hussie's original intended audience of software engineers and rpg gamers. oh and the intermission with the midnight crew and the felt, just know that those are guys that exist and you'll be good.

and the biggest tip i have is just. go with it. suspend your disbelief. a lot of the worldbuilding doesn't really make sense, but it would be a worse story if it did. when the time shit and ectobiology come into play, literally just go ok got it and keep going, don't think too hard.

so yeah i don't even know if any of this is useful but i hope it helps you decide. and if you or anyone else have follow up questions send em!

[misshoneyimhome]

Hi there hunny! I am absolutely loving your writing, I feel like so many babes are hopping on the Willy hype finally!! Not sure if you’re actively looking for requests, but I am just in desperate need for a jealous, slightly angry William - like there’s any writing where he looses his cool because he’s just so laid back as a human. I think you could so do it justice, because I’m not meaning like scary angry ya know? Baby girl can’t. But I feel like as a partner and especially in the early stages he could probably come off as noncommittal or just almost too laid back about your relationship - mostly because he’s so secure about it and how he feels that he forgets you can’t read his inner monologue because he wouldn’t have you there if he wasn’t 100% sure. But maybe you try to call it off after seeing him schmooze at a team event and he like loses it out of fear and frustration at himself that you would think he’s not in it or you’re unspoken together but still not exclusive and you’re having fun at the club after a win just dancing but back at home he loses it (cue the stick breaking vid)! Either situation I would be pissed at him for being clueless but think my panties would melt off for an angry, jealous Willy because if you can get that reaction outta that man you’re in for a treat!!

Uh I’m here for it babe! 😍 angry/jealous/frustrated!Willy is just something of a kind, and I love it 😉 [I had a smilier idea a while back, in case you feel like reading this blurb - it has more jealousy 😉 (pure smut btw)]

And thank you btw, I always love people’s feedback, and requests are just so much fun - I love it when everyone shares their ideas ❤️

So, I went with more frustrated!Willy, rather than being jealous - hope that's ok; however, I do have a piece on the way, also inspired by the breaking-stick video, so hopefully, you'll enjoy that 😊

➼｡ﾟ

The Calm Before the Storm I William Nylander

4 months and 21 days.

It had been that long since you’d found yourself in what could be deemed a relationship with William Nylander.

4 months and 21 days of coffee dates, casual walks with his dogs, takeout dinners at his place, passionate, mind-blowing sex, and lazy mornings after his hockey games.

Everything appeared to be flawless – perhaps a bit too flawless.

In many ways, William stood out from your past partners; with him there was no need for pretence or maintaining a perfect front. With him, you could freely express your unique quirks and be completely yourself without hesitation.

But despite your fondness for his relaxed, natural manner, you couldn't help but notice his reluctance to delve into deep feelings or the core of your relationship.

While he'd whisper sweet nothings and lend an ear on your tougher days, he always seemed to be so composed and laid-back about everything.

And it was slowly starting to grate on your nerves.

_

Initially, you found it incredibly endearing and delightful to be in his company. His ability to shrug things off, whether it was a tough loss, a call from his brother about having a rough day, or even the chaotic traffic lately, impressed you.

"If the traffic's bad, I'll just take the subway," he'd casually remark when you'd urge him to hurry up to avoid being late again.

Or he'd say, "Yeah, it sucked that we lost, but we'll do better next time," after a defeat.

His attitude puzzled you, but in a way, you also found it incredibly amazing.

However, as your relationship with this man deepened, his seemingly calm and relaxed demeanour started feeling a bit too complacent. And now, you found yourself wanting a little clarity about your relationship.

Did it genuinely go beyond mere passing time, something romantic perhaps, or were you simply someone he enjoyed spending time with whenever he felt like it?

Undoubtedly, William was amazing. Yet, the more time you spent together, the more it seemed like this situation was somewhat one-sided.

You knew your feelings ran deep for him, so you opted to give it a bit more time, hoping he'd eventually open up.

And as the partner you wanted to portray, you agreed to accompany him to a team event.

_

The evening was meant to be a celebration, a tribute to their team's triumph.

And amid mingling with other teammates and their partners, William wore his usual bright grin and cheerful demeanour. His laughter filled the room as always, and as usual, you put on a smile and stood by his side.

At first, your concerns eased a bit when he kept an arm around your waist while engaging with managers and other club supporters.

However, as the night wore on, his touch and attention seemed to drift away, and you felt a deep stinge of disappointment.

And by your third glass of champagne, you found yourself without your date, chatting with a few of the team members' girlfriends and wives. Luckily, you had a close bond with the girls, yet your attention was drawn to something across the room – William engaging in his always so casual chatter with a small group, including a striking lady who eyed him with a certain longing, much like you would have done.

And as William didn't appear to shy away from her flirtatious gestures, your suspicions were validated.

So, with a soft sigh and a swift glance at your glass, you hastily finished your drink before slowly making your way over to William.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts as you approached him.

"Hey," you gently said, offering a friendly smile. "I'm sorry, but I think I'd like to head home. You can just stay; I'll get a taxi."

William appeared puzzled by your words, but before he could respond, you swiftly exited the venue and headed towards the cloakroom.

And as you walked away, a part of you hoped he'd follow, while another part desperately needed to escape the situation as soon as possible.

But despite your determined strides to leave, William quickly caught up to you.

"Hey," he said firmly, grasping your wrist as you were about to reach for your coat. "What's wrong?"

His expression showed genuine concern at your sudden change in behaviour, his breaths becoming uneven. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, and all he felt was his heart sinking as he noticed tears welling up in your eyes.

"Will, I can't do this..." you attempted to sound confident, but your voice quivered while maintaining eye contact.

"You can’t do what, y/n? What's going on?" His confusion was evident, and you couldn't help but let out a disbelieving chuckle. How was he this oblivious to his own actions?

"I can't continue like this; I have strong feelings for you," you wanted to yell, but you kept your voice low, trying to avoid any unnecessary drama. "I thought I was more than just a fling, but it seems you don't want to be more, and I'm sorry, but I can't keep going like this..."

"What are you talking about?" William's voice rose in frustration.

He was getting slightly irked by your accusations, yet genuinely confused about what you were getting at.

"You are more than a fling!" he almost shouted.

"Then why do you always act like I’m not and like you don't fucking care about me at all?" Now you were shouting. “You always have to act so fucking cool and tough, and I can’t take it anymore – either you’re sure about us, or you’re not!”

William, his usual calm façade shattered, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

That was when it happened.

As you’d said the words, he could feel his pulse racing, his heartbeat quacking, and his unusual temper about to burst.

You thought he didn’t care…

"God, why can't you see? Shit!" He snapped, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic urgency, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. "I'm just... doing this without thinking! I'm not here for a fling, for fuck’s sake! I’m just not good at this, ok!"

You froze, surprised at the outburst, his words striking a chord within you. It was the first time you’d seen him lose his cool, the raw vulnerability in his eyes contrasting sharply with his usual easy-going nature.

"You think I don't care? That I'm not sure about us?" His frustration seeped through every word. Of course, he was sure about you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have held onto you like this. That wasn't his way. "I might not say it every fucking minute, but I am sure about you. It's just... I thought you knew."

Wait, what?

The air crackled with unspoken emotions. His frustration was not because of you walking away from the event or from him, but because he'd failed to express the depth of his feelings, assuming you understood without him needing to spell it out.

To him, you were everything he'd ever longed for. He'd never met anyone like you, never formed such an instant connection with anyone before.

From the moment he had laid eyes on you, you’d walked straight into his heart. And he had been set on keeping you close ever since. You had become his anchor, the true reason to how he always felt so calm and composed – knowing he had you by his side.

But he had failed. Failed to express just how much you meant to him. And now, here he stood, raising his voice at you, feeling the weight of his heartache.

Seeing you in distress tore him apart. The tears pooling in your eyes and the belief that he didn't care about you pained him deeply.

No. This wasn't right.

Releasing a deep sigh, the tension drained from his shoulders. "I should have said it more. I know… I should have made it clearer – how I felt about you."

Gradually, a sense of relief washed over you as you sensed the authenticity in his expression. And it was becoming clear to you that he struggled with verbalizing his emotions, preferring to express himself through a physical love language.

Furrowing your eyebrows in concern, you let out a deep sigh as well.

"Yeah, you should have," you spoke softly, before surrendering to the impulse, taking a step closer and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in a deep kiss.

His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he reciprocated the intensity of the kiss, fully immersed in the moment.

In that instance, a surge of emotions overwhelmed both of you, drawing you into a heated moment. Gradually, you took a few steps back, retreating deeper into the cloakroom, where William slid his hands beneath your lower back, prompting you to jump, wrapping your legs around his waist.

The kiss intensified, tongues intertwining passionately as he pressed you against the wall, your hands gently cupping his face. You surrendered to the flood of emotions, finally letting go and embracing the feelings you were both openly expressing.

As the passionate kiss escalated, you could feel your bodies heated up, your hands entwining in his semi-long blonde locks, craving for more than just the connection of your lips.

Breaking the intense kiss, both of you were left breathless, needing a moment to recover.

“Willy, take me home,” you whispered, foreheads pressed together. And your wish was his command.

[vladdyissues]

(cw for vague mentions of abuse)

Sorry I just saw the tags (which were incredibly accurate and correct btw) on the one post you recently reblogged and it got me thinking: I would argue that the argument for creating complex fiction by pathologization (i.e. some people create complex fic to process trauma, and therefore it's okay) is inherently a little dubious. Not just because it inevitably puts the onus on people to unwillingly disclose experiences that they may want to keep private, not just because it inevitably leads to the brutal scrutiny of said experiences (such as someone telling you your experiences were not bad /enough/ to justify what you've created, which has happened to myself and others), but because it concedes to the moralizing message that is the Core of what antis/social conservatives believe fiction is meant for, treating it as an inconvenient last resort in the same way some Republicans argue that only victims of assault should have access to abortion, as if a superfluity of freedom would inevitably be abused. Even victims of abuse have interests and agency that extend past what abuse they have experienced - I like complex fiction, but I enjoyed it for many years before I experienced any abuse at all and consider my gravitation towards it mostly separate from my real lived experiences. Like people just like what they like in a purely instinctual way most of the time! It's not that deep and there should be no obligation to make it that deep, especially when discussing fiction and cartoons. I understand that this argument is usually made in good faith - and sometimes in a genuine effort to destigmatize the experiences of people who have experienced trauma and how they cope with said experiences - but I just personally find this line of reasoning antithetical to the enterprise of creating fiction itself, which should be the act of extending yourself far beyond your own experiences and beliefs to participate in another reality, to gain empathy and insight into perspectives that would not be accessible in any other way. 

Donald Barthelme once said, in rebuke to Tolstoy's really moralizing essay on the purpose of Art, "It is the meliorative aspect of fiction that forms its ethical dimension". And I don't think something is less meliorative (or ethical) if it exists for mere titillation - like a horror novel, or rule 34 cartoon porn.

-Apropos Nothing anon

(PS: again you're welcome to delete/not engage with this if it's too heavy/rant-y, it's just that your tags made me reflect on this subject again. Why is cartoon pornography taken this seriously? 😂)

Oh no, no, you're right, and you hit the nail on the head. You stated exactly the reason I avoid wading into the "justifying reasons for writing fucked-up things" angle when it comes to this type of discourse because, like you said:

1) we are not required to divulge our entire personal history to strangers on the internet in order to receive our Darkfic Writing Permit, and

2) people who write fucked up things to cope are not inherently more (or less) justified than someone who writes fucked up things purely because they find it fascinating.

Whatever happened to minding one's own business and letting people have fun with media? Is it any coincidence that younger generations are getting sucked into right-wing conservative Thought Crime ideology more than their predecessors? Could it be that the incessant moralizing, agonizing, hand-wringing, pearl-clutching, purity-obsessed hypervigilance over hobbies and fictional characters is actually not a good thing? That it is, in fact, funneling the queerest generation in history straight into an authoritarian utopia?

Not only is this well said but it very much deserves to be seen, and I'm glad you sent it. People are definitely taking cartoon canoodling way too seriously 💀

[samusique-concrete]

some thoughts on dark souls 2

well, here we are. a while ago i posted some thoughts on dark souls 3, which i now will update by saying it ended up becoming one of my favorite games ever, period. more than ds1 and elden ring i think (?). beat it multiple times, had a lot of fun fighting bosses in different ways, had fun with people online, been on the grind for getting all the achievements, been looking into installing the randomizer mod, etc. it's thanks to the buttery smooth UX ds3 provides that i got to enjoy my time with it so much. i cannot say the same for ds2.

not to reignite an age old debate but i don't think ds2 is really all that good... or at the very least i think the stuff it gets 'wrong' ends up overshadowing the stuff it really does get right. if you like the game that's fine obviously, i can see the appeal and i'm not here to say "DARK SOULS 2 SUCKS!" or anything. i'll list some stuff i liked and some i didn't so you can see where i'm coming from:

(SOME) STUFF I DIDN'T LIKE:

the ADP/AGL stats. i can't fathom why they thought it was a good idea to tie your i-frames to a stat. ds1 got this right the first time. this is genuinely beyond me.

movement/animations. ds1 could at times feel like a weird take on turn based combat in real time. it worked. ds2 just feels sluggish, on top of not being super responsive. you can be locked on but if you roll and attack your attack is stuck to the direction where you roll and you completely whiff. was ds1 vanilla also like this? i only played the remastered and it's, you know, how it should be. also where are the i-frames for going through a fog door or opening a chest??

the healing system. why did they feel the need to split them into flasks and gems? i certainly never felt the need to have two different healing items, except for the only sometimes useful feature that you can use gems while still moving. didn't see much use in the fact that one heals you slightly faster than the other. if anything having to manage two separate resources, one finite and the other not, was a bit annoying. ds3 went on to improve on this with only flasks; there were more of them and you could move while drinking them.

the menu. a bit finicky to traverse. more on this later.

the hitboxes. jfc. on top of being horrible there's very little feedback for when you're being hit. you just see your health bar decrease seemingly out of nowhere sometimes.

the enemy encounters... are actually fine for the most part. in some sections it's actually hilarious, in a good way (enemies blasting through locked doors? the constant invasions? the forlorn coming to get you if you die a lot, or the pursuer randomly popping in? actually funny stuff). it just got really annoying to deal with them at times for the other reasons listed above, plus also having to deal with some of the most baffling level design in the series.

the level design. the gulch? the undead crypt? good god.

the bosses. they're ok-ish for the most part, though most of them aren't very memorable and it's not really super engaging to fight them because of the combat mechanics. the dudes in armor are tight though and i wish there were even more.

the npc dialogue. these people just never stop their yammering do they. probably the single funniest player message i've ever seen in one of these games was just next to the last bonfire where aldia talks to you. the message just said "right, right". i laughed out loud for a solid while.

(SOME) STUFF I DID LIKE:

the story & themes. i think this is the most realized 'vision' of a plot in a dark souls base game. it's really interesting and it actually makes you care about some stuff, and it also makes you feel a certain way about the world design, which is nonsensical in a cool way. i get that in order to get some of this across they had to write more dialogue but at least you can mash A through that (at the risk of missing something relevant).

the human effigies. a step up from the humanity system from ds1, that would ultimately end up getting revised to perfection in ds3 with the embers.

the graphics. obviously this came out some years after ds1, but for a game that still released on the same console generation as its predecessor, it's a bit wild how much more they could get out of the systems at the time. also the art design in some areas are in my opinion a big step up (thinking of heide's tower of flame, the walk up to drangleic castle, the dragon aerie and other random hallways where the lighting got used in striking ways) and that also helps. (i don't wanna let ds1 off the hook here just for being 'the first one' though; by 2011 the industry already knew what they were doing, and fromsoftware had already released demon's souls prior to it. it is a bit crazy that a game from 2011 looks and feels like that but i say that with a lot of love).

the menu. they figured out a way to make you visualize your character while at the same time trying different armor pieces on (with your character even taking a slightly different stance while the menu was open, as if they were posing), and then they went back on that for ds3. a shame.

majula. obviously the coziest hub.

bonfire ascetics. really, really cool item that i'm baffled doesn't exist in some other shape or form in subsequent titles. i get that they could be used to farm to get an obscene amount of souls but it'd be really cool to have the oportunity to re-fight bosses in other souls games without having to beat the game and getting up to a certain point again. maybe like halve the souls they give out so it's clear that they're there as an optional challenge instead of a farming item, idk.

the atmosphere. atmittedly it's very different from ds1, but it's still... something. there's something to it. i consider ds1's atmosphere and general vibe so well realized that i see it as sort of unsurpassable. this is probably the thing i'd criticize the most about ds3: in that game the atmosphere is really austere for some portions of the experience, though it obviously makes up for it in other ways.

the memories. idk they weren't great and a they're a bit obtuse as a progression gate but still a neat idea. the whole 'action set piece' vibe does clash tonally a bit with what i associate with souls titles but it would've been interesting to see that idea fleshed out in a sequel.

all in all, it wasn't all bad. it was just really frustrating trying to meet the game halfway sometimes when ds1 had already figured out ways to impart something onto you even through all of its friction. i know miyazaki wasn't the one directing this one etc etc but it really does feel like a completely different studio made it. like it was the first 'soulslike'.

echoing my post on dark souls 3, i will now close this one out with a few screenshots.

i realize i've now written about dark souls 3 and dark souls 2, in that order. i guess i'll eventually write something similar, though different, about dark souls 1.