#does this boil down to ‘have a wank and write down whatever you thought about’?

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Do you have any writing advice for a new aspiring writer of smutty tiefling fanfiction? I just want to smash my barbies together and share the results with the world!

First things first, I’m very flattered to be asked for writing advice! Thank you so much ❤️ And smut in particular? Hell yeah.

Before we proceed: all of this advice is given with a heavy dose of what I like to write and read, so if you think “but I like stories that do that!” then that is entirely valid. I can only speak from my own perspective.

Disclaimers out of the way, let’s get started!

1. First things first, and perhaps most vital: write what turns you on, without apology. When I started writing Sharp Teeth, I felt kind of embarrassed about how dominant I (and thus my reader insert) felt towards Rolan. So I hedged. After writing that Tav wanted to pull Rolan’s hair, I wrote that she wanted him to do that to her too; when I wrote her wanting to throw Rolan on a counter and fuck him, I appended that she wanted to be possessed by Rolan too. Looking back on it now, it’s a testament to how much more comfortable I’ve become talking about my kinkiness, but it definitely diluted the vibe of what I was truly wanting to portray, and readers could probably tell it was half-hearted. I wanted Tav in CONTROL damn it.

(Note: before this comes off as “don’t write switching”, that is not at all what I mean. It goes for all flavours. If what you want to write is soft sensuality, don’t get embarrassed, feel like it’s too sickly and shove in a “take it, slut” or whatever. If you want to write your pairing switching like mad, do that and don’t water it down! Basically, listen to your own feelings. Embarrassment will try to creep in and hold your fingers from the keyboard at just the moment you find most exquisitely hot, because sharing that is vulnerable. Notice it, and write the thing anyway - delete that diluting sentence about how she only wants to pull his hair gently, if you want her to pull it hard!)

2. Horny daydreams baby. If it gets you off, write it down. What’s the moment in your fantasies that makes you feral? That is MATERIAL. (This is a beneficial loop: daydreams beget writing beget daydreams. Whether you ever think about anything else again is up to you.) It doesn’t have to be a complete story, just the moment that makes you go… nnnhhh. This is kind of just an addendum to the previous one but truly, this is just how my process works. Prompts are harder to write than the contents of my own fantasies, in my experience.

3. In terms of planning/working on an idea: I tend to have a “climax” point in mind for my smut, then work out how this scenario is kicking off in the first place, and then fill in the gaps. (That’s just the planning though, I write fairly linearly).

Somewhere between the flirting/lead up to sex and the sex itself, there will be a point of no-horny-return, and if you try to take the tension down a notch after that point the story will lose its sizzle. Fortunately, this is usually easily fixed by moving bits around!

(This happened to me in Combat Training C2: it was a fic with a lot of sparring and role play, but I returned to “serious” sparring after turning the tension way up and the scene immediately fell flat on its face. But with a little reworking, I managed to both convey the character beat (that Rolan and Tav had learnt from each other and would be more prepared for their next battle) and dial up the sexual tension smoothly.)

4. Beware of writing overly mechanically. I’m saying this because I have totally done it! Yes, you generally want to avoid the “three hands” situation that gets joked about a lot (where you haven’t accounted for a character’s limbs and suddenly it seems like they’ve got an extra one). But sometimes it’s ok to just mention them flopping onto a bed or chair in a room without accounting for the fact that it’s there first, or simply say that a character has undressed if you don’t want to linger on them stripping. You don’t need to write in specific limb movements if they’re not super sexy (but technically happening), and you don’t need to write a character picking something up before they use it. Context can do a lot of work!

(… if they’re out in the forest, THEN you need to explain where that bed came from).

(Although I will say, trying to picture the scene in more accurate detail than you’re writing can create some juicy inspiration. Wondering if Rolan’s horns would allow him to rest comfortably in that position? What if they rip the sheets or scratch the floor or catch his lover’s cheek?)

5. Related to “write what you want”: Do not feel like you have to write sex correctly. Smut is gloriously untethered from the bounds of real life, and if you love a bit of cervix pounding, stomach-bulging filth, have at it and don’t apologise. You don’t need to care about contraception and safe sex unless you want to: this is not a sex ed class. You do not have to write SSC BDSM: this is not a sex ed class. Tag and go forth.

(Relatedly, these topics are also make or break for character and vibe sometimes. Health-anxious character in cute first-time fluff? Probably going to want to use protection. Two lovers fucking the night before they think they’re going to die in battle? Probably do not care, and it will spoil the reckless, feral vibe if we stop for a PSA about condom use.)

Consent is often implied through context and subtext. It can be made very explicit, if you want, but it’s also fine to simply show how into it your characters are, how they tease each other and nod and offer up suggestions. If it’s an established relationship, this goes double; it’s easy to infer that this is something the characters have done before without explicitly discussing that! (This is also assuming you’re writing consent; the long history of ravishment in published romance speaks to the fact this is not required lol).

6. Back to more mechanical-level writing stuff: linger in a mood, moment and action. A smut fic can encompass several different moods and sex/kink acts, but pay attention to how you transition between them. If you're oscillating between sweet and nasty ever other sentence, you probably want more consistency. It's an oft-repeated writing tip, but the five senses are your friends, and get specific. The gentle give of ridged skin beneath probing fingers; the sweet smell of campfire smoke; the gloss of tears over jet-black eyes and the taste of red wine on someone else's tongue. (… don’t necessarily do ALL the senses at once but you get what I mean!).

7. And finally one more: feelings. Give this filth feelings. How long have they wanted this? How hot do they think their partner looks right now? Are they feeling romantic or sadistic, feral or cuddly? Did they expect to feel this way, and what do they think it says about their relationship? New love and pent-up tension is obviously great and popular, but I also love exploring shame and conflict, illustrating characters taking risks, trusting each other, exploring new things…

Sex sits at a nexus of all sorts of beliefs our characters have about themselves and what they want. How do they react? Does the sex reinforce those beliefs or change them? It is possible to write hot smut without much of this at all but generally, give your readers a reason to care. (YES this spanking is an expression of Rolan’s character arc, goddamn it.)

Those are my best tips, I think, abstract and rambling as they may be. I hope this was helpful; the no1 writing tip of all time is, of course, to JUST DO IT. Good luck!

[diningpageantry]

Don’t @ Me

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43092371

Chapter 1/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3118

Fic Summary: Teenage life is hard enough, but with the added weight of their lives, both Simon and Baz thrive online in a fandom for the British crime show, Gastrell, about the genius Huxley and his "flatmate" Sam. Through Tumblr, they find each other, and sink into something more than just being mutuals.

Chapter Summary: A shitpost is taken a little too personally, and an argument breaks out. In true Baz fashion, he seeks to prove himself right in the most ridiculous way possible.

BAZ

Morning routines are the most menial shit in the realm of existence of arbitrary tasks.

Everyone seems to have them, yet nobody really has a set one. For example, my step-mum has a long, seemingly pointless hour of simply facial cleansers, serums, and hair products. When I’d asked her years ago why she does it all, she shook her head and said “You’ll never be an aging woman, Basilton.”

I couldn’t quite argue with that.

Regardless, it’s a part of life. The routines. Wake up, morning routine, morning activity, eat, afternoon activity, usually afternoon snack, evening activity, dinner, night-time activity, sleep.

A boring, underwhelming cycle of the day.

Although, I suppose it’s shittier for me, since the homeschooling doesn’t give me a chance to do much besides sit and read. Of course, I have my car and I can drive off to whatever. Hell, father even suggested I get a job to occupy myself, but I don’t quite see the point given how much money we have (and the risk factors with moving around so frequently).

So, here I am. Finishing my classes in a matter of months, then having an entire year of pointless bullshit.

Needless to say, my entire day’s routine isn’t the most thrilling. Wake up at 10 on a good day, check social media and emails, then just lay here until I can’t wait to piss. Piss. Go to eat breakfast and get greeted by screaming children and my poor step-mum trying to wrangle them in. Go upstairs, go back online, see whatever’s on my dash, reblog some shit, then try to do something vaguely productive. Check Archive, check email again. Nothing’s on the emails, ever. Text Dev and Niall, who get awfully pissed since they are in school. Get more food. Eat. Bring tea upstairs, despite the disdained look from our maid (who hates collecting my piles of mugs). Write for a couple hours. Take an afternoon nap, if I please. Wake up and sit there (again). Maybe lonely wank. Go back to the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror for a good few minutes. Sit on the toilet for half an hour for no reason besides the fact that my phone seems more interesting while sitting there as compared to sitting in bed. Sit then on the bathroom floor doing the same thing. Go back to my bed, listen to music on my phone and work on my laptop. Write, maybe scroll. Get dinner brought to me as they tut that I should be more active. Eat. Go downstairs for an evening workout (they’re right, I shouldn’t confine myself to my bed). Come back, do exactly what I do for half the day until I pass out somewhere around 3 am. Repeat.

Dream life for an 17 year old. Social life of a god.

Somewhat.

It’s shit to say (and sort of embarrassing to share) that there’s sort of a social media presence around me. Not quite the Instagram model bullshit, but based around fan life.

Yes, it’s a laughing stock. That’s where my popularity lies--a mixed grab-bag of various ages gathering around various platforms to enthuse about certain topics. And I’m somehow lucky enough to have the slightest bit of popularity here.

As in, a large following. A large, somehow active following.

It isn’t exactly thrilling as one would like to think. Sure, it’s fun to see a scattered group of regulars pop up, and I have my mutuals, but it’s a sad existence to sit around and make various shitposts with nothing better to occupy my mind. Or, at least, that’s what Dev and Niall tell me.

All in all, I blame Fiona. She’s the one who got me into the show, saying she thought the character was a bit like me. After I saw it, I found the three connections she’d grasped at.

Gay, dark-haired, and violinist.

As if that’s a rarity.

Yet, surely enough, I did love it. The cinematography, the characters, the storyline. It was intriguing--captivating.

It doesn’t hurt that the online community was still on the smaller side when I first got there. The show was only a season in when I made my blog, and I’ve stuck through all this bullshit to get me here. One of the regulars. Reposted everywhere, uncredited usually. Big fics, large interactions. Shitposts with thousands upon thousands of notes. I’m recognizable; a suggested name.

Don’t get me wrong, the attention is spectacular. I love interacting with people beyond this depressing household, and they’re usually fairly nice (usually) (except those ravenous for an argument). It’s just awkward to share at times when people ask why your mobile’s got 99+ symbols next to the apps and you just shrug and say “I’m shit at checking it” to avoid the conversation because most people see it as childish.

It’s a shame, really. Especially since I feel emotionally attached to these goddamn fictional fuckers.

I suppose that’s what makes it all the more personal, then. Even the shitposts mean something to me.

Which is what makes this is a long, winded way of saying fuck whoever’s arguing with me about whether or not Huxley is a fucking Ravenclaw. (He is. Hands down.) How’d I get here, staring at my mobile in disbelief at a brief back and forth post turned fight? Because it feels like a reasonable question to wonder.

I got here because, as almost all mornings, I woke up, opened my phone, read my notifs, then sat here, thinking of something. Anything. Then, in a tired haze, typed out a single text post on tumblr.

huxley gastrell is a ravenclaw send tweet

Following so, I went about my typical morning. Of course. Then--then--I check my phone as I’m going downstairs and I see it. I see the “@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!” notif, then read the God-forsaken reblog.

@gaystrell op do you take criticism on your posts?

I frowned at my phone, typing out a quick response before tucking it back into my pocket.

@bi-sammy no.

What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was the reply I’d open up to soon after I’d started poking at my morning meal.

@gaystrell well too bad bc ur WRONG and ur opinions are UGLY

#he’s clearly a slytherin this is slytherin oppression #don’t tell me he and bryonie aren’t from a slytherin family

Now I sit, staring and completely awestruck at such a post. Now, I won’t deny Bryonie Gastrell is definitely, in all possible ways, a Slytherin. Cunning and ambitious as fuck, as any political spy may be, but fuck anyone who tries to dismiss Huxley’s clear Ravenclaw leanings.

It takes me a moment to fully process, mouth robotically chewing my eggs as I contemplate my answer.

@bi-sammy there is absolutely no proof of huxley being a slytherin and more than enough support towards him being a ravenclaw. get your clueless negativity off my blog, you utter tit.

With that, I settle my phone face down onto my table and try to enjoy my lovely plate of scrambled eggs, barely ignoring the boiling of my blood.

SIMON

My phone lights up with the new notification, dragging my attention away from my laptop as the words slide down onto the screen. “@gaystrell mentioned you in a post!” I hate to admit that I get a little pattering in my heart, urging my hand out to grasp the mobile as I pause the Youtube video currently playing. As I read his words, I slowly blink out of my excitement.

Tit. He called me a bloody tit.

Of course this fucking wanker called me a tit.

He must think that since he’s this big bad blogger, he can call me a tit right out in the open. (Although, he is talking to me, so that’s a plus) (No! No no no, bad validation, Simon. Bad). What, with his thousands of followers and fans of his own, he thinks he can try to say shit out in the open?

Fuck it. He’s either getting a DM or a bloody fist fight from me. I’ll take a train to wherever the fuck he lives (which is somewhere in England, since that’s what his bio says) (and his aunt lives in London, since he’s posted about visiting her) (I really do wonder where he’s from and how close he might be--what if I run into him one day?) (No wait fuck I don’t want that anymore).

Clicking on his blog, the little person drop down gives me the option of a message. I barely think as I type it out, vision going spotty from the adrenaline of the twinging anger.

bi-sammy: i swear to god there was no point to the battle of hogwarts if you’re just going to go around and absolutely slander the slytherin name and dare say that huxley is not one of them and, rather, is a ravenclaw

At first, I grin at it, watching my lone message appear into the empty chat. It’s so freeing--so powerful to send it. I pride myself, in the moment, for this solid move of communication. Of course I’m fucking proud. I messaged the arse myself and gave him a space to fight.

Maybe Penny’s right, I should dial down the confrontation, but it’s just the internet. Nothing important happens through a stupid little argument over Huxley’s true Hogwarts house (although, I’m sure I know I’m right in my heart), but it is a bit of fun to fuck around with someone. It’s a distraction. And that’s why I’m here, afterall. To have a distraction.

Penny thinks it’s a bit silly, but she doesn’t really complain. All she’s ever said was  “I thought we left fandom stuff behind us when we were 14.” She said it over lunch, watching me scroll through my at-the-time new tumblr.

It’s funny, I thought I did leave it behind when I was younger. It seemed unneeded as life shifted. I’d just found a stable foster home, with someone who was going to keep me for a while. I found Penny a couple months before I deactivated my old account. I was happy; we were free. I didn’t need a venting place.

Shits been sort of hitting the fan recently, though. No uni plans, David’s been getting more controlling, and of course, Agatha dumping me. It all crashed on top of me a few months ago, and somehow, the only place that I could find healthy coping was online. So, I started fresh. Made a blog and settled in. It’s not big, but I’ve had a few posts get noticed. I have a good few hundred followers, and one nice anon who asks me how I am every few weeks. It’s not a lot, but it’s comforting.

I feel at home here, even with a little discourse.

Well, only when the discourse is answered. Which, in this situation, I don’t know if it will be, given it’s been over an hour now and Baz hasn’t answered.

If that’s even his name.

It’s what his bio says, at least.

baz. 17. cisguy (he/him). gay. don’t interact if you think huxley is remotely straight.

I’ve wondered for a while what Baz stands for. He refuses to answer it in asks; he always says it’s too personal. He’s sort of odd like that--never posts pictures of anything that could be linked back. Seems sort of creepy, but then again, a lot of people follow him. It’s reasonable to want space.

Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. He probably wants space of some sort, but it’d be at least decent to answer someone who tried to have a discussion (that’s at least what I’m calling that message I sent--a discussion starter).

I frown at my phone, keeping it on silent as I slide it into my front pocket and settle into my seat in maths. I’ll say it--I sulk in class, a little bitter that I don’t have his attention (despite the fact that he seems like he’s always active online, which seems odd). Eventually, I exhale and try to let it slip away. There went my one interaction with him. My few seconds of the weirdest fucking bliss online, gone.

Then, it happens. As the class is ending, I pull out my screen just enough to see and there it is. A clear notification telling me he’d answered. Oddly enough, it’s just him sending me a link to a Google Doc.

Weird.

I ignore it for the moment being, letting myself ride the wave of relaxation that I actually got a reply. It passes my mind until I’m sitting in the back of Agatha’s car, listening to Penny and Aggie in the front talking about whatever’s on their mind. The rides are sort of awkward as of recently. At least Agatha agreed to drive me home (it’s a good 45 minute walk, if not) after some convincing from Penny, but her and I don’t really chat. It’s just the two of them.

Given that time, I have a chance to pull out my mobile and thumb through what was sent.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/175qFASmqD7hey8lE0eoE-6VhhFYE9DP6bpnI32Aay98/edit?usp=sharing

I click on it, not expecting that much (or, really, not expecting anything at all). Yet, the second it pops up and loads, my jaw drops.

“Jesus fuck,” I say aloud, scrolling through it. Penny turns her head, frowning as I stay locked on my screen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“No--no nothing,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s got to be something for that reaction,” she says, keeping turned in her seat as she eyes me up. “Just tell us, Si.”

“I mean it when I say it’s nothing.” My voice gets quieter as I shift, reading the title. “It’s just fandom stuff. It’s really nothing.”

I hear her disgruntled huff as she turns back, mumbling something about me reacting too dramatically to this. “It isn’t even real.” It’s said under her breath, yet it still rings clear in my ears.

It isn’t really fake, either.

Hell, this is six pages of real. “Why Huxley Gastrell is, Without a Doubt, a Ravenclaw”. Shared by Basilton Pitch (is that his actual name?!). Fucking hell, it’s detailed to no ends. You’d think, with this much writing, there’d be pages of pointless filler where he’d just type “im gay hi huxley is also a gay we’re all gay here aren’t we”, but no. It’s full, grammatically correct sentences detailing his points.

It’s a bit much to read in the car, so I settle my mobile face down onto the seat as I’m left reeling. That… was a bit more than I’d expected.

Shit, did he write that for me?

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

BAZ

Whoever says that having a flair for the dramatics is pointless has clearly never met me, because I wouldn’t quite call this masterpiece of an essay “pointless”. In fact, I should send it to academics. Rename it “A Study In Multi-Dimensional Characters and their Associated Generalized Personality Traits”. I’ll be hailed as a genius, as I deserve to be.

I crack my knuckles, and see the little person pop up.

Surely enough, it’s @bi-sammy’s name that he has listed online, Simon. It’s curious, he has his last name listed as “Snow”. Although, the smallest part of me believes it’s a pseudonym. Given our interactions, I doubt he’s clever enough to think of a solid pseudonym. And, even at that, why pick Snow?

Either way, it’s surprisingly endearing. Simon Snow. Sounds sweet. Sounds innocent.

I watch his cursor turn on, then his icon goes grey after a few moments. My heart starts to trip, making my cheeks begin to flush. Is… he ignoring this?

No. He can’t be. I put in hard work and dedication into this work, and I deserve the respect I’d sent into it. Fucking hell, three fully developed points (his devotion to intellectual work, his effort to step out of public light for Sam’s sake, and his overall lack of ambition for moving forward). I clearly set it out, and ended it properly; I’d proven that Huxley is a Ravenclaw. Case and point, opinion made, the end.

And, here I sit, watching him have the audacity to open it up then close it back. That was my hard work put in there, and he closes it? Who in the name of all that is sacred thinks he’s that above other people to the point where he just ignores--

Oh. He’s back on. Nevermind.

He’s… probably a school student. It’s roughly the time that most classes end, I suppose.

I make a mental apology to him, despite having never ranted directly to him in the first place.

He stays active for a good bit; long enough to show he’s reading. I assume that he’d just close off and message me, but after minutes, I notice a little highlighted comment pop up on the last sentence.

Simon Snow i………. owe you every single possible apology

Each word makes me grin like I haven’t in a while. A wide, cheek-creasing grin. There’s something so sweet to that--so personal. It feels like a note passed to me in a classroom under the tables. Like a cute “Blink if you like me”, although I doubt he has quite an intention.

Nevertheless, it warms my chest, sending my head back as I smile. I’m not sure whether or not it’s the satisfaction of winning, or his words, but I laugh outwardly into the room. It stays with me, reverberating onto my skin and my throat.

I look back at the comment, then leave it untouched. If he won’t remove it, then I won’t either.

With a glance at our personal messages tab, I figure that’s that. Even field, no more argument. No more interaction. It’s a bit of a shame, given the effort I’d just extorted for his sake, that he hasn’t answered in our chat.

While I’m disappointed to close off the document, I smile at it one last time. Sometimes I have to move on from random people, especially when they come on a bit strong.

Except, I find, moments later that I’m wrong about one thing--the moving on. He didn’t just stop his interaction, but instead made a public post.

“@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!”

This time, I really laugh. A full bellied, hand-covering-mouth laugh.

i guess i have to suck @gayhuxell’s cock now because i was wrong and the bloody arse was right. huxley is a ravenclaw.

#fuck me i guess

I take a minute, rereading over his words a few times before typing a simple answer with my reblog.

i’m available anytime behind a mcdonald’s parking lot

[haljathefangirlcat]

still thinking about that “we Have To Talk about how quips are ruining fandom by destroying meta and turning all fic into shitposts” post @ms-demeanor wrote a great rebuttal to, and about the other posts she wrote about it and about the You’re Doing Fandom Wrong attitude in it, and about the notes on those posts. not gonna reblog or reply to any of those because my thoughts are admittedly kind of random and jumping from place to place and probably OT to the point of the discussion, but you know. still thinking.

so, uh. not trying to start wank or anything but enjoy the ranting that got way out of hand under the cut.

so, like... that one “we can’t just block everyone who quips and shitposts because some of these people also write actual meta but then they unfortunately go back to Not Engaging With Canon by writing quippy shitpost-y stuff” line, or however it was actually phrased? besides the blatant entitlement with the “you have to fandom ONLY in ways I like, I can’t just engage with the part of the content you create that I’m interested in and scroll past the rest” thing (which kinda reminds me of the whole “you can’t CNTW on some of your fics, I should be able to read ALL of your fics” thing, in a way) and the ”I refuse to curate my fandom experience and I’ll make it some stranger’s problem” thing (which... reminds me of a few other things, but tbf it has probably been around since the very first days of fandom), what if someone doesn’t even see meta and quips/shitposts as fundamentally different and mutually exclusive approaches to fandom? what if they see them as just two ways to be interested in a specific fandom and interact with it, and maybe even closely linked together, so going from one to another is actually very, very easy for them? hell, what if they (gasp!) even mix quips and meta together sometimes?

I have a few posts about what I think Baran bo Odar and Jantje Friese might have been doing with mythological references and themes in Dark, and about what I got from the series finale. some are meme-like, phrased in a joking tone, probably even shitpost-y? another one is literally just a gifset plus me having intense Feels in the tags, and the last one is an edit of the kind I’ve seen people complain about as “those cringey unoriginal tumblr aesthetics that all look the same” in at least a couple of occasions. does that automatically mean I only wanted to “win” at fandom (with my hard-earned prize being... a handful of notes in a fandom that’s not even that big compared to others) and that I haven’t actually spent probably way too much time thinking about the significance of Martha’s Ariadne play as a commentary on character interactions/plot/narrative themes (and honestly still do from time to time), or that I don’t occasionally read the captions under other people’s gifsets and suddenly feel very much enlightened about why the Ariadne play mentions the myth of the Flood of all things? that I didn’t start reading posts and comments and reviews and theories about the series finale as soon as I finished watching it? that, just because I didn’t write 10K+ words of Perfectly Serious Seriousness about all that stuff, I simply refused to Engage With The Text? 

... and if I said that I feel a little irrationally self-conscious at the idea of writing down all of my (often rambling, sometimes jumbled) thoughts about a series that to me actually does feel very deep and complex, so adding memes and humor to that or finding different means to put my ideas out there makes me feel more comfortable expressing myself while also taking off the (admittedly made-up) pressure of having to write a whole coherent essay where I have to find a clear and explicit way to explain where every single thought comes from and how it leads to the next like I’m gonna get graded on it? or that a lot of those thoughts stem from memories of spending five years of high school translating and analysing ancient Greek poetry and reading and watching and discussing every available interpretation and reinterpretation of it from Nietzsche to Vernant to Dürrenmatt to Christa Wolf to Pasolini to a lot of others and from certain things in Dark violently hurtling me back to those times without even asking for permission, so a part of my self-consciousness is actually “I probably don’t actually know/remember enough about this to base a whole in-depth analysis on it even though I do think there’s something there” and another part is “shit I’m too lazy to dig through all of my old textbooks and homework and additional readings to hunt for the thing I feel the desperate need to reference or figure out who might have said it, so no extended explanation here either”? I guess in the end it would all boil down to “there’s an amount of effort and physical and mental energy I’m willing to put into fandom but I also have limits to stop something that makes me feel happy from becoming a chore”, which. considering the whole “you have to put all your resources into constantly pouring out 100% serious meta and nothing else because that’s what I like, no deviations allowed” thing? yeah, I can see saying stuff like that would still make me a blight upon fandom. and/or Not Engaging.

which, I realize, it’s a thing I keep coming back to. but that’s because I really, really, really hate it? seriously, what even counts as Engaging With The Text correctly? not shitposts, and not quips either, apparently. Regardless of the fact that humor and crack have existed in fandom since forever and that it’s actually not uncommon AT ALL for them to be born out of looking at canon from different angles, pointing out whatever the fan in question finds surreal/strange/implausible/convoluted/awkward/just kinda funny about it. 

also, not canon divergence/what if fics motivated not by a desire to “fix” something that made us feel bad when it happened in canon but by a desire to actually fix what we felt was objectively a poor writing choice from the author, because we shouldn’t Engage by analysing the text to criticize it or to think over how and why certain aspects of it don’t work for us or how we think the structure of the text itself could be modified or even improved, we should Engage by... writing meta and/or writing canon-compliant fics with perhaps a little allowance for slightly-to-the-left-of-canon-compliant missing moments fics, I guess? 

from what I’ve gathered from reading other fandom discussion some time ago, AUs are also out, especially Modern/No Powers AUs, because those are always just an excuse to slap your fave’s name on your OC/disguise your original fiction as fanfic to get comments/ignore all that’s interesting about canon to write yet another dumb syrupy high school or coffee shop AU, even if I’m honestly not sure what kind of AUs people are even reading to never get to the “there’s no supernatural threat so let’s focus entirely on the fucked-up family dynamics and blatant mental issues in a world where you can’t just ignore them by marrying off your daughter or sending your son to be someone’s squire” AUs or the “this is pretty much what happens in canon but adding new dimensions and different outlooks on the themes by moving everything to a new context” AUs. seriously, I could rec you a pretty great “this guy would be a horrible father and treat his children horribly in any world, it’s not just the feudal society around him, it’s him as a person” AU and that’s literally just the first thing that came to my mind. but, hey, maybe Engaging is only engaging with the canon plot and setting and nothing else, what do I know.

... fuck, thinking about it, I’m not even sure if by “not shitpost and not quips” I should even mean humor/crack? because it’s not like the OP was clear about it in any way? maybe it’s just all that’s weird and tropey and not-canon-compliant? I can see the “everybody gathers in the main character’s stuff to smoke weed and weird shit happens” fic I got a chuckle out of some time ago being one of the dreaded tumblr-born shitpost fics that are supposedly ruining fandom by ensuring that fans stop thinking (?), but what about the “everything is the same but this one character is a catboy, not for any particular reason but just because” fic I’m currently following and loving? people have been joking and shitposting about catboys a lot on tumblr lately (I distinctly remember that the last catboy joke to pop up on my dash was the “I’m your catboy gf and I’m stuck in a wall” one...) and finding an always-a-catboy!AU initially got an amused smile out of me, so is the mere premise enough to make the fic just a joke/just taking a trope and running off with it/just part of a shallow trend? even when the author literally goes “oh shit just realized this is all a metaphor for neuodivergence and masking” in the story notes? unless writing a character who’s never explicitly stated to be neurodivergent in canon as a being literally or metaphorically neurodivergent in your fic is always shallow projecting or posturing issuefic... instead of, y’know, looking closely at the text and Engaging with it by interpreting it that way....

I feel all this ranting/venting might end up plunging into Why We Slash discussion territory now, so I better stop here.

anyway, in short, good to know I’ve been in fandom for years yet I’ve always been just a Fake Fan who Can’t Think and is constantly Doing It Wrong (by Not Being Transformative Enough, possibly). gonna do my best to stay exactly like that in the future <3

[fae-fucker]

Shatter Me: Chapter 5-6

Chapter 5

I don’t know anything about anything except for the screaming.

#relatable

Juliette is angsting about her past again and how her parents hate her.

I stole their happiness. Destroyed my mother’s hope for ever having children again.

I guess this will be explained eventually.

I only know now that the scientists are wrong. 

The world is flat. 

I know because I was tossed right off the edge and I’ve been trying to hold on for 17 years. I’ve been trying to climb back up for 17 years but it’s nearly impossible to beat gravity when no one is willing to give you a hand.

You’re probably wondering why my reviews for this book are so weird and sparse. That’s because I have nothing but this kind of nonsense to work with so far.

Ready for more? Of course you are. 

Juliette whines about how she hates summer and loves winter, because she’s special like that.

Summer is like a slow-cooker bringing everything in the world to a boil 1 degree at a time. It promises a million happy adjectives only to pour stench and sewage into your nose for dinner.

So like this book.

I hate the lackadaisical ennui of a sun too preoccupied with itself to notice the infinite hours we spend in its presence. The sun is an arrogant thing, always leaving the world behind when it tires of us. 

Lackadaisical ennui ... 

Juliette is too loopy to know proper grammar and what commas are, but LACKADAISICAL ENNUI passes as the thoughts of someone who’s been in solitary for 200+ days? 

Talk about style over substance.

The moon is a loyal companion. 

It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. 

Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.

Alright, fine, if we forget that the moon only reflects the light of the sun when it’s “full of light”, that the sun is a giant ball of gas that doesn’t give a shit about your feelings, and that it’s literally the reason life even exists on earth, isn’t the sun the one that always returns during the day, while the moon disappears at regular intervals? I guess they fucked up the earth so badly that they somehow fucked the orbit of the moon too. 

Oh, right, sorry. I forgot that this book is #deep. 

Adam asks what time it is. 

I have no idea what time it is. I have no idea which day of the week it is, what month we’re in, or even if there’s a specific season we’re supposed to be in.

Yeah, man. Counting the exact days and hours since you’ve touched a person is fine, but knowing what day of the week it is is just TOO MUCH TO ASK OF YOUR HALF-GONE BRAIN, IS IT?

She wanks on about how the planet is destroyed and everything is fucked and how the Reestablishment was supposed to fix everything but didn’t because they’re evil.

Adam asks if they only feed them once a day. Juliette says it’s random. Adam asks if there’s any “group therapy”, which makes me wonder exactly how fucking stupid he is. Which part of this establishment did you look at and go “hmm, yes, this place seems like it employs proper recovery methods”? 

Juliette says:

“Until you arrived, I hadn’t spoken a single word in two hundred sixty-four days.”

“BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS OR WHAT MONTH WERE IN, DON’T EVEN ASK HOW THAT MAKES SENSE.” 

Adam asks how long she’s in for. She says she doesn’t know.

A mechanical sound creaks/groans/cranks in the distance.

Hey uuuh Tahereh uuuh what the fuck?

Can you be consistent with your “style” for one fucking second, please? Why the fuck have you elected to put slashes where you previously just fucking threw words together in a pile? Is there any reason for any of this or are you just doing whatever the hell you feel like?

Juliette asks why Adam is here and he says that he’s not insane, which doesn’t answer her question but I guess Juliette doesn’t really find this suspicious so she drops it. 

Adam asks why Juliette keeps looking outside through the window.

I know he’s actually a soldier type dude sent in to “test” and befriend Juliette, but was he specifically intstructed to play the role of a complete moron? 

"Hey why do you, someone who’s been locked up alone within four walls for 200+ days, keep looking outside, where things actually change and actual human beings move around? That just makes no sense!” 

Juliette thinks it’s very unique that he notices her staring and cares enough to ask. Ok, cool.

They talk about more irrelevant nonsense and Juliette asks what it’s like outside, at which point Tahereh just kinda says “fuck quotation marks” and writes the dialogue without any. 

I don’t even know. 

Adam says some really boring, clichéd shit about how the clichéd Reestablishment is a clichéd villain who OMG kills all the opposition??????????

HOW UNHEARD OF!! HOW UNIQUELY EVIL!!

But there were protests, you see. Juliette struggles not to remember but does anyway, because we need more angst.

I see dead dead dead red and burgundy and maroon and the richest shade of your mother’s favorite lipstick all smeared into the earth.

Way to undermine the drama of your own book, I guess. Not that it worked in the first place, but now you’re just doing the job for me.

More food arrives and they have more useless dialogue.

“Your eyes are so deep.” He tilts his head. “So calm. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

Trust me, you really don’t.

Chapter 6

Juliette is angsting about her family again. It’s been two weeks -- oh, sorry 2 weeks since Adam arrived. 

I sit by the window and watch the rain and the leaves and the snow collide.

So it’s somehow raining and snowing? Did you put up your middle finger at some preps?

Juliette thinks about birds and how she’s heard of birds and how can birds achieve anything so complex as human engineering? and I’m pretty sure I’m about to kill something. 

Adam asks what Juliette is writing and puts a blanket around her. 

“Are you writing a book?” 

“No.” No I am not writing a book.

I wish Tahereh Mafi followed her own character’s example.

Juliette realizes that she knows Adam, they used to go to school together or some shit. Cool. 

“They’re going to destroy the English language,” he says, his voice careful, quiet. 

I fight to catch my breath. 

“They want to re-create everything,” he continues. “They want to redesign everything. They want to destroy anything that could’ve been the reason for our problems. They think we need a new, universal language.” He drops his voice. Drops his eyes. “They want to destroy everything. Every language in history.”

Holy shit. YA authors need to fucking calm the fuck down with their same-y, idiotic ideas for dystopias. 

Really? Destroy the English language, arguably the most widespread language right now, and create a completely new one from scratch? That’s not how ... anything works? What kind of sense is this supposed to make? They could’ve just made English the only language that’s allowed to be spoken and save themselves some goddamn trouble! 

I’m so tired.

Anyway, Juliette starts freaking out, because the Reestablishment murdering innocents and political rivals is a-ok, but as soon as they go for the languages, THAT’S JUST TOO GODDAMN FAR!

I never thought it would get this bad. I never thought The Reestablishment would take things so far.

I’m not fucking kidding.

Adam tries hugging her but she’s like NO DON’T DO IT I HAVEN’T ANGSTED ENOUGH YET AND THIS IS DEFINITELY A THING THAT WILL HAPPEN AT A CLIMACTIC MOMENT. 

Adam gets really offended that she doesn’t want to hug him. 

His eyes are 2 buckets of rainwater: deep, fresh, clear.

I can’t believe that this idiot goes from LACKADAISICAL ENNUI to comparing her love interest’s eyes to buckets.

Well, actually, since Tahereh seems to have a hatred for all things consistent, I can believe it.

Juliette angsts about how she totally knows Adam from before.

I know him. 

I’ve tried so hard to stop thinking about him. 

I’ve tried so hard to forget his face. 

I’ve tried so hard to get those blue blue blue eyes out of my head but I know him I know him I know him it’s been 3 years since I last saw him. 

I could never forget Adam. 

But he’s already forgotten me.

I can’t possibly imagine why, you’re just so memorable!

If you’ve been struggling to forget his face, how come you didn’t instantly recognize him when you saw him, you dingus?

Whatever.