#fanfics are better than people

[bsdisawesomesauce]

i finished watching good omens the other day and it has not left my mind ive been mass reading fanfics about it trying to keep my mind off the ending @rawrx3ky-txt @ermm-onyxx pls watch it I have no one to talk to it about I actually need to yap

[muffinlance]

Do you get the impression the live action is treating us like utter morons?? Like I thought that making it aimed at an older audience would open the doors for more subtle story telling, but no, they're just using monologues to tell us eveything! Like in the second episode Katara's like 'oh his power isn't that he's the avatar, it's that he ~connects~ to people'. Girl we're not idiots we can see that!! And the first episode with Aang's goddawful 'I don't want this responsibility' monologue

THIS, YES. The word that keeps coming to mind is definitely "subtlety". The show for literal children? Had it. The remake for adults? Not so much.

[bellobambino]

get out of town no fucking way man

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

me stubbornly forcing myself to drink green tea and rest from my THIRD COLD THIS MONTH

[newpartnerincrime]

fanfiction should be accessible to shitty writers. if you find yourself on ao3 thinking “wow most of this is bad” and “these people could never be real authors” then like. i don’t know. too bad? go read a novel. and i don’t say that to be snarky i just mean it. shitty fanfiction will always exist and always has. not every piece will be in perfect conversation with the source material and that’s fine. most of it is not written by people with literature degrees. but most of it is written out of a deep and genuine love or at least interest in the source. that doesn’t mean every fanfiction writer has the skills to write a professionally published novel. many do but many don’t. the same could be and has been said for a lot of traditionally published authors.

furthermore i think the increase in shitty, cash-grabby books (which, i don’t know, has there really been an increase or are we just paying more attention to it? there have always been bad books.) is less to do with fanfiction authors writing books and more to do with the ever-increasing need for content by publishing houses/companies.

i want people to keep writing shitty fanfiction and i want them to get love for it too. i don’t want them to feel discouraged from even trying. especially when they’re really not hurting anyone by writing about something they love and wanting positive attention for it. how else are they going to discover writing. how did You discover your love for writing? did you learn to be a better writer because you kept doing it and were encouraged or because people constantly shit on what you were doing wrong? all you’re encouraging people to do is not try. like. i don’t know. i think even a fanfiction you think is bad can be taken seriously if the author wants you to. i don’t know. am i making sense. i don’t know.

[secriden]

so. lets talk about an unhappily married rich tai tai!tongrak and bodyguard!mahasamut au

Note: tai tai (太太) is slang for a trophy wife of a rich man who doesn't work and lives a life of luxury. (think Desperate Housewives types)

(inspired by this inexplicably TVB drama-esque fortpeat photoshoot and a feverish exchange yesterday with @williamrikers):

tongrak winds up being arranged marriage off as a child to the son of another rich family (something like lian/kuea in cutie pie, but minus any actual feelings/history). tongrak's family is new money rich and not as established but his husband-to-be is from one of those old money practically royalty families and MUCH wealthier. tongrak decides to uphold the agreement once he's of age cuz it'll help his family establish their business too and and he doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life anyway. so he gets married right out of university to his fiance who is. fine. you know, fairly handsome and decent in bed and stuff. tongrak can't complain.

so things are just normal and honestly kind of boring and tongrak spends most of his days shopping or hanging out with connor and vie when they're not busy or writing for fun. he likes writing a lot, and his husband allows him to indulge in his hobby although he's told in no uncertain terms that he can never try to get published because that wouldn't be a 'good look' for the company.

but over the years his husband grows increasingly controlling, needing to know where tongrak is at all times, limiting his time with his friends (especially connor), and growing more and more jumpy and paranoid as if he thinks someone is after him.

things come to a head one day when their house is broken into. the invaders use tongrak to threaten his husband (he gets a smacked around a bit) and this is how tongrak finds about the secret safe, and the shady business partners, and the fact that their entire fortune is now tied up in some very risky business ventures with loose ties to the mafia. (like they're still rich af but if things go wrong the whole company could crumble like a house of cards)

tongrak is furious. husband tells him he'll handle things, orders him to be silent. threatens to go after his sister and mother if tongrak goes to the authorities. so tongrak has no choice but to keep quiet, but he demands that he gets to find a personal bodyguard and insists that he gets to choose him personally.

enter: mahasamut. tongrak finds out about him through connor, and mahasamut agrees to move from the island to Bangkok to bodyguard for a truly insane amount of money because why not? (connor doesn't tell tongrak that mahasamut had refused the job until he'd sent him tongrak's picture) ((for the purposes of this story, mahasamut's has a vague military background))

at first, tongrak and mahasamut don't exactly get along because mahasamut is cocky and sarcastic and rude and pushes all of tongrak's buttons. (he's also so fucking sexy and tongrak finds himself waking up to wet sheets for the first time since his literal teenage years. he starts something with his husband but although they both come tongrak still feels like something was missing).

the 2nd time their home is invaded, the husband isn't around and mahasamut manages to fight off the 3 men sent to their home who were suppose to beat tongrak up as a warning to his husband. who is evidently Not Handling It.

in the aftermath, tongrak is very shaken and at one point had gotten cut because one of the thugs had shattered a glass cabinet which triggered a flashback of his memories of his abusive father. mahasamut winds up talking him down from his panic attack (although the invaders manage to escape while mahasamut's attentions are on tongrak), and holding tongrak until he stops shaking.

things thaw considerably between them. mahasamut is so incredibly gentle with tongrak over the next few days and keeps trying to cheer him up/distract him from his worries cuz he gets super jumpy. they go on cute grocery shopping dates outings so mahasamut can cook for him. tongrak also delights in watching mahasamut try all the fancy fusion food you can only find in Bangkok. he tells mahasamut about his writing and mahasamut asks to read some of his work and tells him what he likes about his stories and tongrak's never felt so seen in his life.

husband comes home from his business trip and tongrak and he have a huge yelling match where husband dismisses tongrak's fear because "nothing really happened to you, you're fine" and keeps insisting he just "needs more time to sort things out" and "stop being such a drama queen about this".

(mahasamut stands outside the room, fists clenched, feet rooted in place. he knows he can't do anything but the way tongrak's voice breaks with his tears nearly makes him reach for the door.)

husband goes on another business trip and tongrak says fuck it. he doesn't feel safe in his home, so he asks mahasamut if they can go visit his island. husband is displeased but can't really find a good reason to say no to the request, so tongrak books the flights and the private yacht and mashsamut watches in fond amusement as tongrak packs his bag with completely unpractical cothes - all silk and velvet tops and leather and corduroy pants with silver buckles.

(mahasamut secretly packs a much more practical set of clothes in his own bag for tongrak: shorts and light cotton shirts and hey if he adds a few of the semi-translucent shirts he loves on tongrak that's his business.)

the island is truly paradise, and tongrak is able to forget the whole mess of the situation with the business and his husband. mahasamut takes him out to sea, teaches him how to free dive and shows him all the secret places only the locals know. talks about how much he loves the island and its people and how greedy corporations are starting to slowly choke the life out if the land. opens up about his father and how he's learned to be strong because he never had anyone to rely on. how he's learned to embrace violence so he'd have the power to choose gentleness.

when tongrak leans forward and kisses him, it feels inevitable. it feels like fate.

[explicit stuff under the cut]

what are we doing? tongrak thinks, even as he goes pliant under mahasamut's hands, licks his fingertips, before sucking them into his mouth.

where is this going? mahasamut wonders, as he watches tongrak sink down on his cock, pretty pretty lips caught between teeth as they both gasp for air.

i'm going to keep you. tongrak vows, as he presses his fingers against the red marks littered across his collarbones and lets himself fall back into masasamut's endlessly warm embrace.

(they don't talk about it, even though they probably should. but tongrak doesn't know what he can promise, and mahasamut is too afraid to reach for too much only to watch tongrak slip entirely from his fingers.)

they fuck like animals for the week they spend on the island, learning each other's bodies inside and out. tongrak has a series of discoveries about himself and his body that has him questioning how he could have lived in his passionless marriage for the past 10 years.

the days leading up to their return to Bangkok are hard. tongrak hates watching the marks mahasamut left on his skin slowly fade again. mahasamut starts marking him with his come instead - on his chest, his lips, his cock, his hole; rubbed into his skin like an invisible promise. it's not enough, but it helps; settles tongrak inside his skin just a little bit so that he can bear going home.

returning home isn't easy, and once-familiar spaces feel like strangers; tongrak cannot recognise himself anymore in the rich tapestries and ostentatious furniture. he feels hallowed out, like mahasamut dug into his core and then put him back together wholly differently.

he hates that he has to be careful now. he can't touch mahasamut, can't allow his eyes to linger too long for fear that his husband's servants will report to their master that tongrak's been unfaithful. he knows, now, that his husband can be cruel, that he has ties to people who can make mahasamut disappear and suddenly tongrak's gained a slew of new nightmares overnight.

his husband's hands feel like brands on his skin. he can't refuse, because he has no reason to; tongrak's never refused sex before, so it would be too obvious if he suddenly starts now. but its torture and tongrak hates the splintered look of pain in mahasamut's eyes the morning after his husband returns home.

the night after his husband leaves again, tongrak lays awake until 3 in the morning, waiting for the house to fall completely silent around him. he sneaks his way to mahasamut's room, crawls into his bed, lets mahasamut kiss away his silent tears and quiet his frantic apologies; lets mahasamut make love to him until dawn begins to break. when mahsamut comes inside him, something fundamental slots back into place.

it's mahasamut that breaks the silence. eyes wide, shoulders hunched - its the smallest tongrak has ever seen mahasamut and it pulls something sharp inside his ribs.

i think i'm in love with you, mahasamut tells him, and tongrak has to stifle his sobs in his fist.

(the servants are waking up soon, he has to go, but this matters. this matters.)

i love you too, he whispers back and the way the first rays of the sun break on the smile on mahasamut's lips makes tongrak's breath catch inside his chest.

when tongrak sneaks back into his room, barely settling under the covers before one of the maids knocks on his door to 'wake' him up he feels settled in his skin in a way he never has before. he doesn't have an answer yet, but he will.

something has to give, and for the warmth of mahasamut's arms and the desperation in his kisses, tongrak will find a way.

[dickheadcanons]

sorry for the vent, but nothing annoys me more than people who don't read the comics because they claim they don't want to read inconsistent characterization. Just say you're too attached to the fandom versions of the characters! You don't want to find out what they are actually like!! Being inconsistent with what you like is not the same as being inconsistent!

Because, at the end of the day, these people don't know if the stories are inconsistent because they don't actually know the characters, they haven't read the context, and they don't know how the events in the story came to be. These characters have been around for decades. They've "done" almost everything under the sun. If someone's only heard a laundry list of things they've done (usually told by a pretty biased 3rd party, myself included) then of course the actions are going to sound inconsistent. The connecting tissue of how they got from point A to point B is the entire point of a story.

I think this urks me so much because it’s always couched in this haughty, "it's impossible to read all of the comics and they’re not good enough to try" language, which for one thing, is just such a dismissive attitude of something they claim to love. But the other thing is that, so often, these people love to talk or write about specific comic events. If all they're writing about is the batfam going for a day at Disneyland, then yeah, they don't need to read anything. But if they're specifically writing a fic to address, like...Tim and Jason's fight at Titans Tower, or Bruce's return from the timestream, especially in a “fix-it” framing, and they can't be bothered to read the *40 pages of pictures where that happens*....what is this manufactured outrage? Are they just trying to be angry about something that never happened? Are they so obsessed with the canon being wrong that they can't give the thing they're mad at a chance to be right?

[that-squishy-robot]

Luke being terrified that his and Din’s relationship has a one sided power dynamic. While Din is just like, “Haha, break my neck with your space magic.”

[code-dy]

Holy shit i have the capability to draw things for my favourite fanfic authors!!!

Here’s a quick sketch for that lovely author who wrote that absolutely lovely vampire thorin fanfic inspired by wwdits

[rockaberryx]

Ok usually I don’t say anything about vivziepop’s tweets on anywhere because I don’t think that I absolutely need to comment on them but oh boy I definitely need to now because this shit absolutely infuriates me.

First off no it is not that we’re homophobic that we think that the current state of helluva’s writing is like a bad fanfic. From what I know a majority of people who are frustrated with the show’s writing are queer themselves. And the fact that the main romance is now derailing the focus of the show towards it and its written so horribly.

Secondly, I can guarantee to vivzie that there is way more queer media (plus fanfics) out there that is just way better written than hb and that’s a fact. (Also blitz and stolas isn’t the most amazing queer representation that vivzie thinks it is. Same with angel from hazbin as well)

And thirdly, vivzie is 30+ years old. And she’s pulling the “if you don’t like it then you’re homophobic” excuse. IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2023 😀.

This basically shows to me that vivzie cannot handle fair and constructive criticism at all so she is just gonna let the show’s quality continue it’s downwards spiral and end in such a disastrous way that would make star vs’s ending look like the ending to gravity falls in comparison.

I HATE IT HERE

[arthursfuckinghat]

Let death be a lesson to you.

[bsdisawesomesauce]

I'm really bored and really when you think about it homework is for people. My friend just called my keyboard a typer, send help. When you think about Dazai Osamu from the hit anime Bungo Stray Dogs is a square and Chuuya Nakahara from the hit anime Bungo Stray Dogs is a trapezoid bc a square is everything but a trapezoid and the other day I was worshipping my calculator as a god I hate math.

[artthoufruity]

“Not everyone in (insert any show/move/game with a fandom) is gay it’s unrealistic!!!” SHUT UP OH MY GODDDDDD JUST SAY YOUVE NEVER BEEN IN A FANDOM BEFORE AND MOVE ON.

[stardustinthesky]

So, how do you think it went? They were nice.

[finifugue]

Reject reality (Hungary GP) embrace delusion (Landoscar Bridgerton AU) - opening snippet of a fic which I will update whenever Event Horizon gets too depressing and existential. Pre-landoscar, pre-lestappen (minor). 1.6k so far and I'll probably edit the fuck out of it. One day.

It is in the words of another anonymous Lady, that the truth of our merry ton may be found: “a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Are you quite sure it’s hers?”

“Who’s else might it be? There aren’t any copycats brave enough to write under her name!”

These words, though plain to the learned man’s ear, ring clear to those nervous mamas which, on this bright day, are finally given the opportunity to demonstrate their mettle in a battle of wit, courage, and pride which has been tended to from near the moment of our country’s consummation. For today, dear reader, is the day the marriage market opens, and the sharp teeth of society await the new nobility to step from the solitude of darkness, to the blinding light.

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Ow ‒ do not push me, George!”

For many a family, young misses are being decorated with as much wealth as their families possess ‒ such as in the Bridgerton family, where the long-awaited Eloise Bridgerton is rumoured to finally be stepping out from her Diamond sister’s shadow…

“Damn Bridgertons. They’re all she ever writes about, and the Featheringtons, and all those however else associated.”

“Would you rather Lady Whistledown write about you, Alex, and your escapades?”

“I did not say that. When did I say that?”

… But for others, the fervour of this day only sends the gossip mill into a feeding frenzy. For it seems that this season, moreso than any other, it is the gentlemen of the ton which invite scrutiny; particularly the likes of the noble Lords Albon, Russell, and Leclerc, who have once again failed to be seen courting any eligibles of the ton, and are well on their ways to becoming a trio of ‘Capital-R Rakes.’

“Bollocks.”

Lando bursts out laughing. He’s met with three identical, loathing stares from his best friends, all trussed up in their frilly cravats and long coats and beaver hats. In Lando’s humble opinion, they look rather silly ‒ though, he’d never say it. They all have such odd ideas about clothing, as they do with housing ‒ George’s bachelor apartment is lavishly decorated, velvet lining almost every available surface. He wipes a non-existent tear from his eye, just to piss them off. “’Capital-R Rakes?’ Blimey, better get a move on, then. No worse fate than a fucking Capital-R Rake.”

It makes George roll his eyes. “Not all of us are content with bachelorhood, Lando. Some of us wish to appease our fathers.”

“Or our mamas,” Charles mutters. “Though it seems impossible.”

Scoffing derisively, Lando pushes himself up to a seated position from where he was lying on the chaise lounge, whipping the Whistledown article from Alex’s hands. “How very noble of you all.” His teeth clench, and he averts his gaze from them all, where they stare at him with a sort of tired pity that makes his bones itch. He lifts the page up, half-obscuring his face as he pretends to read it, not perceiving any of the writing at all.

There’s an awkward silence, in which Charles gives Alex and George a significant look, and in response Alex elbows George, who sighs. He sits next to Lando, where his feet had just rested. Puts a hand up, as if to rest on Lando’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and settles it on the back of the lounge, running a finger along the ornate mahogany frame. “Do not brood.”

“I am not brooding.”

George pokes him. “You are. You know we didn't mean anything by it. Besides, I do believe Charles’ mama frets about our marital statuses well enough to have more than enough spare for you.”

Against his better judgement, Lando cracks a smile, lightly shoving George away. “Fine, fine. I’m alright. George, keep reading this.” He pushes the page into his hands, lying back and throwing his legs over George’s thighs and resting his arms over his head. George, who has had to endure Lando’s dramatics and quick changes in temperament since they were children, just rolls his eyes.

Despite the misadventure of our most well-known Lords, it must be said, dear reader, that the polite society of the ton shall be graced with the presence of one who will be certain to turn every shrewd mama’s head: His Highness Oscar Piastri, Crown Prince of England.

Charles moans. “Oh, we are ruined. How are we going to compete in the marriage market with a prince?” Charles’ mother, as George had said, is becoming increasingly worried about his marriage prospects, despite the fact that he’s only in his twenties and a Duke, for God’s sake, and — and this part, in Lando’s mind, is the significantly more important factor — gorgeous enough that any of the eligibles would be chomping at the bit to have him court them. Not that Lando would ever let Charles hear him say that ‒ his head’s already far too big. If he knew that he’s been considered one of the most eligible bachelors of every season since he went on the marriage market, it would grow too heavy for his neck and he’d never be able to stand up.

Despite this, Lando feels a little sorry for him. He puts far too much pressure on himself. Lando pats him on the shoulder, smirking. “He can only take one spouse, Charles. I’m sure the rest of the eligibles would be content to settle for the likes of yourself… eventually.”

In return for his awfully kind and generous words, Charles grabs the Whistledown article and whaps him over the back of the head with it, as if he were an irritating insect instead of someone who’s seen Charles fall out of a tree trying to impress Alex’s pretty nanny when they were children. “You are rude and I do not know why we continue to spend time with you.”

“Because I buy you beer and lose at cards.”

“Your two only favourable traits.”

The Crown Prince has been the subject of all the conversation in society since the confirmation of his return to England from the perilous frontier of New Holland ‒ or as radical explorers of the New Age refer to the mysterious continent, the vast new colony of Australia. What he has been doing amid the penal colonies and military operations during his long expedition is unclear; certainly, his escapades are a topic which many a debutante will be sure to delve into in the battle that shall come, as the Prince’s favour is fought for.

Lando thinks about that. It is quite insane, really, that the King allowed his Crown Prince — his only son — to sail away across the globe to a new, faraway, tiny little colony full of the Empire’s criminals, utterly defenceless and all alone, with only a few military bases to house him. He wonders if the King simply did not care for his son. Or if his son wished too desperately to be away from all the pomp and pride of England’s society. Lando’s heard it said that Australia is vast, vaster even than the British Isles, full of life and animals completely different to those seen promenading the streets of Mayfair. “Why’s he decided to come back, then?”

Alex shrugs. “Perhaps he was lonely.”

“Perhaps his father became tired of him wasting his time in a colony a million miles from England, and called him home for supper,” George shoots back, before returning to the article.

The Prince is due to make his first appearance within society within the coming week, at the delightful annual occasion hosted by Lady Danbury ‒ the first ball of the season. Mamas, ensure your children are well prepared in their speeches and talents, for this author hears that the Crown Prince, though most entirely the Incomparable bachelor of the season, has, in fact, very little desire to marry ‒ nor, by many an account, to court at all.

That makes Lando roll his eyes a bit. Of course the Crown Prince of England has no desire to court ‒ to have mamas and eligibles fawning over him and pawing at his lapels for a chance to be next in line for the consort’s throne. Lando can only imagine the type of person to skirt his responsibilities to the throne to adventure the frontiers of the Empire ‒ self-interested, dull, puffed-up and vain. He’s convinced himself, then, that His Highness, the Crown Prince Oscar must be terribly arrogant.

“Ha!” George crows, righetous anger colouring his voice. “Simply because he is a Prince, he is afforded every excuse known to man ‒ no, the Crown Prince of England could never be considered a Capital-R Rake!”

“Well, yes, George, that would be because he’s the Crown Prince of England.”

“You know what I mean, Alex.” George shoots him a glare. “It seems that Piastri is the only person Whistledown refuses to name a rake. Apart from Lando, of course.”

It’s quite amazing, Lando thinks, how long George can hold a grudge. “I don’t think I pass across Lady Whistledown’s mind enough for her to even consider calling me names in her writing,” he replies tersely. “Same as she never talks about your cooks. Or your servants. Or your nannies ‒”

Sidling down beside him on the lounge which is absolutely not made to seat three people at once, Charles throws an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, but Lando, you are terrible at cooking, and you have never once had the indignity to serve us, and on account of the fact that you seem to have been raised in a barn, rather than Lord Rosberg’s countryside manor ‒”

“Charles‒”

“‒ I would not ever call you a nanny.” Charles grins at him. “Perhaps you are just more noble than us all, after all.”

A challenge, then, to all eligibles of the season; for charming Prince Piastri seems to have become the most fruitful task of all… and the most Herculean.

[utilitycaster]

I genuinely believe the fact that so many popular Imogen/Laudna fics are no-powers AU is, if not the main cause, at least a factor in why so many people resist or even are hostile towards any interpretation of Imogen that isn't largely sweet and harmless. Like, write the fic you want, but Imogen in particular is someone so fundamentally shaped by her powers that to write a no powers AU is to write what is essentially a completely original character who happens to share her name.

I think it's made even more obviously a factor because many of those fics try to reconstruct aspects of Imogen's personality by giving her anxiety or agoraphobia (or both) but the problem is that those are purely mental illnesses, rather than something that both gives her powers and penalties (again, the X-Men problem). Some real-world mental illnesses cover the symptoms of Imogen's abilities, but none cover the abilities themselves. It's quite literally a removal of agency: they take away what she can (and frequently does) do with her powers, leaving only the negative effects on her behind while eliminating the negative effects she can have on others. No wonder there's this overwhelming push to woobify her from that corner; they've utterly defanged her and are now crying that other people who can still see her fangs (and even like them) are talking about them.

And the thing is, for all I can be negative about fanon, it is, ultimately, fine - so long one can either keep it separate in one's mind from canon or else remain in a particular fanon sandbox. But unfortunately people leave the sandbox, and when other people respond to the canon Imogen, who as of episode 81 (RIP CRStats) has voluntarily used Detect Thoughts/Open Mind 60 times and has openly stated her intent to use it specifically to know what her party members are doing in advance and theoretically prevent it, the fanfic crowd is utterly unable to react to this intelligently. The idea of Imogen they have is sweet girl with severe anxiety and a goth girlfriend. The problem is this construct exists only in their favorite fanfic writers' domestic fluff modern AU no powers setting. And frankly, I'm not interested in talking about that warped mirror version of her when I could have all the fascination, complexity, glory, and agency of the real thing.