#god i really do hate writing sometimes

[fanmoose12]

How do you think Hange would react on Levi wearing glasses?? I need to know

It must be one of these days, Hange reasons. The ones, where every sound seems ten times louder than usual and colors are too bright but for all the wrong reasons.

And, really, it was obvious that their day would become the day from the moment that Hange had woken up, nearly an hour later than they should have. As if that wasn't bad enough, not even five minutes later, they not only spilled their morning coffee, but broke their favorite mug too.

And from then on, the pile of shit just kept growing, turning into a mountain - they forgot the car keys and had to go back inside to get them, on their way to work, they got stuck in the traffic, and when they arrive at last, disheveled, annoyed, with little to no coffee inside their body and more than half an hour to their first class, they have to deal with the kids, who decided, it seems, that today is the perfect day to act as bratty and insufferable as possible.

These little damn gremlins, Hange thinks disgruntledly, after failing to quiet down the class for the third time in five minutes. They feel their eye begin to twitch, as they watch the unraveling chaos, but just before shit really hits the fan and Eren tries to yet again pounce at Jean with fists already raised, Hange sighs and raises their voice to dismiss the class.

Any other day they'd try to calm two boys down, make them settle their differences with words, shake hands and what not, but today... today, they can't bring themself to care. If they want to punch each other's face, then whatever, they're free to do so.

Just not in Hange's class.

After the kids leave - some do so happily, and some, mainly Armin, the absolute sweetheart and one of Hange's most prominent and adored students, with disappointing huffs, Hange takes a deep breath, shakes their head and leaves the classroom, venturing into the teacher's breakroom to find coffee.

The irritation and the building headache do dull a bit, when the caffeine enters their bloodstream, but Hange still feels restless, like a tight string that can break at any moment. They need to do something about, elevate the stress somehow, maybe blow out some steam in a healthy, albeit not exactly professional manner, but when they enter the office of the one, who usually takes care of it, Hange finds that Levi is not there.

And it's strange, they know for a fact that Levi has no classes in the second period and he's never ever late to work. Where did he vanish off to then?

Hange checks their phone, scrolls through their texts with Levi, and only then do they remember Levi mentioning something about a doctor's appointment.

They text him again, asking where he went and, more importantly, when he'll come back, but Levi answers elusively, with just a curt 'soon'. Hange's attempts to find out just what kind of doctor did he go to doesn't result in much either, Levi's 'you'll see' is unhelpful and a bit annoying in its vagueness.

Hange huffs, cursing his reserved nature, and, without anything better to do, they turn on their laptop and sit down to plan the lessons for the next few weeks.

The work is slow and tedious, minutes start to feel like hours, and if that wasn't pulling on their nerves, every fifteen minutes or so, a student knocks on the door of their shared office with Levi, asking about Mr Ackerman.

The constant knocking and interruption soon begin to annoy Hange even more so than the work, the boiling point appears on the horizon of their consciousness once again. If they hear another damn knock on the door or see another student, they would for sure reach that point, cross over it and succumb to the overwhelming pull of irritation.

And, naturally, not even five minutes later, the door opens once again. Hange jumps from their chair that instant, ready to tear the head of that poor soul, unlucky enough to interrupt them. But...

When they turn to face the door, they find it's not a student that stands on the threshold. No, it's Levi. Levi, dressed in his usual white pants and dark turtleneck. Levi, who is wearing glasses. Thick rimmed, brown in color, they captivate Hange's attention. Make them stare at Levi for much longer than is probably acceptable, with an expression that causes a frown to appear on his face.

It tightens, that frown, turns into a scowl, but before it can manifest in a fool-mouthed curse, Hange pulls themself together, curls their lips in a grin, and in a voice so sweet it makes Levi's left eye twitch, they say,

"Well, hello to you, Mr Four-Eyes."

"Shut up," he grumbles in a way that Hange had honestly expected him to.

He walks further in the room, attempts to push past them, but Hange doesn't let him. They corner him, pulling him closer by the belt of his pants.

"Ah, ah," they tut, revealing in Levi's vexed expression and the adorable blush that accompanies it. "Let me take a better look."

Levi huffs, but surrenders, standing in one place stoically, as Hange silently stares at him, their grin widening with every passing second.

"Well?" he breaks the silence finally. "How ridiculous do I look?"

Ridiculous? What Levi is going on about? He thinks he looks ridiculous? Ridiculously hot is a more accurate description. That's the only description Hange can honestly think of right now, because, wow. Levi always looks good, it is even kinda annoying sometimes, he can pull off any outfit, even hangover and sleep-deprived, he somehow still remains unbelievably handsome, but now, with those damn glasses on...

Hange didn't know they had a glasses kink, until they saw Levi wearing them.

"You know what's ridiculous?" they ask, pulling Levi closer, so that their breath is hovering above his lips. "How badly I want to get into your pants right now."

"Four-eyes," Levi chides, or, well, tries to. The irony of his words must catch up with him, if his wince is anything to go by. But he doesn't let that deter him, and continues in that same deadpan voice. "My class starts in five minutes."

Oh. That is rather disappointing. Quite an annoying obstacle, but, luckily, Hange is a pro at overcoming them.

"So you're saying... we only have time for a bit of a quick make out session?"

"Only if you stop blabbering and get to work, four-eyes."

"Well, four-eyes," Hange grins, delighting in the way Levi rolls his eyes at them. Payback had never felt so sweet. "I hate to keep you waiting."

True to their words, Hange doesn't. With eyes never leaving Levi's, they snake their arm around his neck, draw him flash against their body, open their mouth for a kiss, and... stop.

"Levi... do you think that'd be comfortable? To kiss when both of us are wearing glasses? I can take off mine, of course, but I kind of want to see you, and I don't want to see you without your glasses, and..."

"Hange," Levi cuts them off, in a low, growling voice that sends sparks flying down Hange's spine. "There is only one way to find out. So just shut up and kiss me already."

And, honestly, how can Hange possibly say no to that? They lean forward, press their lips to Levi, and, true, it is uncomfortable, but just for a moment. Levi slightly tilts his head, finding a new angle, so that neither of their glasses get in a way, and, oh, it feels so good that Hange begin to feel weak in knees.

And just like that, in the arms of their grumpy, unbelievably handsome Levi, Hange finds the peace that they were lacking throughout the whole day.

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

heeyyy gaaanggg

the pose and the background of the album version (left) are based on oingo boingos only a lad album art. not cause i think he has anything to do with it but just cause ive been wantin to draw that pose for like. weeks and i didnt know who to put there. so why not my latest bug man.

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[kittyscabin]

shows up to give you the coffinchain challenge

Please be more careful when you cross the road You’re a perfect arrangement of rickety bones

Stray cats.

Peter had always likened the apprentices to a group of stray cats, in his mind.

At first it was out of distaste. They were a nuisance; a band of drifters slinking around the alleyways, catching their quarries unaware. The quick, sharp jab of a hypodermic needle might as well have been the efficient killing bite that a cat might deliver to the throat of its prey. They worked in the shadows, occupying all of those lonely abandoned buildings and reworking them for a new, twisted purpose. 

Then, begrudgingly, he’d found himself wrapped up in Mark Hoffman. Chasing him, hunting him, hellbent on bringing him to justice, then on killing him, then on understanding him, then…

Well, Peter didn’t know what he was doing now. 

All he knew was that sitting in his apartment, in varying states of composure, were three of Jigsaw’s disciples. 

Dr. Gordon sat on his couch, eyes trained down as his hands worked on bandaging a fresh wound on the arm of his younger accomplice. Stanheight sat quietly and allowed for the medical attention with little fight. Hoffman himself sat on the floor, back leaned against the couch close to the other two. 

Peter remained standing, trying not to buckle at the absurdity of his situation. In true stray-animal nature, he had made the mistake of allowing Hoffman into his home once, twice, thrice, and now he’d come back with friends. 

‘Don’t feed the strays’, indeed. 

Accept that he did know the other two, at this point. The polite Dr. Gordon was well-spoken and direct; Peter had found him infuriating in the beginning. He was a hard man to interrogate and an even harder man to intimidate, as level and unflinching as he was. Unlike Peter, he never seemed to let his anger get the best of him, and he seemed to know that. Dr. Gordon was a man who always seemed very aware of how much more control he had in the conversation. It was enviable. 

Then there was Adam Faulkner-Stanheight. Mouthful of a name. It was strange enough for Peter to wrap his head around the fact that the kid was alive, let alone working with Jigsaw. He was angry- had more rage in his scrawny little body than what felt possible. Stupid and impulsive, Peter had found him annoying. Just a petulant adolescent who had gotten himself into bigger trouble than he yet realized. 

They’ve come a long way since then. Both apprentices had grown on him, maybe because they reminded him of himself in their amalgamate qualities. The cold, callous bluntness of the doctor. The white-hot temper of the kid. The way he had never seen the former so gentle nor the latter so complacent until now, as they patched themselves together on his bloodied furniture. 

Peter had been reluctant to welcome them all inside. It was bad enough to shelter one serial killer, but now three? It reminded him that everything he’s been doing as of late is against what he once stood for. Fuck, it would solve a hell of a lot of his own problems if he didn't care. If he’d let them all rot, make them regret thinking that Peter would risk his own hide just because he's been friendly with them. Dr. Gordon and Stanheight had seemed to understand this too. Their expressions had been apprehensive, looking ready to flee like the animals they were. Peter wonders how long ago he would have given chase. 

Hoffman had spoken, then. 

“I didn’t-” His voice was shot and exhausted. “I didn’t know where else to go, Strahm.” 

And just like that, Peter took them in. Those words were all it took. Hoffman limped inside on a bad leg and described some sort of police-raid, premature. John Kramer and Amanda Young hadn’t even been there, so it had just been the trio, and they were forced to flee. Unable to go far on foot in their current state, Hoffman had brought his injured companions here. To Peter. 

Why did that make something strange stir within him? 

The three of them were soaked to the bone from the rain. Peter watched Hoffman sluggishly attempt to remain alert, but every so often his head would lull and come to rest against the soft thigh of Dr. Gordon. If the doctor noticed it, he didn't say a word as he continued to diligently work. He looked tired. Stanheight was putting on the best brave face he could manage, but Peter’s keen eyes caught his shoulders trembling, only eased when Gordon’s hand came to rest on one and rubbed gently. They all looked so tired. 

Unable to watch any longer, Peter finally broke the silence. 

“So why are you still doing this?” It took everything in him to not fidget idly as he spoke, brows furrowed at the three men. 

All eyes were on him quite suddenly, sharp as they regarded him. Three clever pairs of observant eyes that all screamed out ‘I know more than I’m letting on' to Peter. He held their gazes, muscled arms crossed over his chest. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” He scoffed, lip curling. “What’s the point of doing the old man's dirty work when he just lets things like this happen to you?” 

Silence.

Hoffman broke first. He laughed, eyes closing as he rested more fully against the couch. It was good-natured but ultimately dismissive. 

Dr. Gordon frowned at Peter, one brow quirked as if he had asked them something incredibly naive. Like he expected Peter to know already. 

Stanheight didn't react. Not outwardly, anyways. He only stared, something new and strange glittering in his eyes that Peter couldn't place.

“What,” Peter grit his teeth, an edge to his voice. Less of a question and more of a prompt. 

“Nothing, nothing. Apologies, Mr. Strahm.” Gordon sighed, turning his attention back to his handiwork. He appeared to nearly be done with the worst of Stanheight’s injuries now. “It’s just… not that simple.”

“Not exactly the kinda job you can put your two weeks in for.” Hoffman corroborated, a smirk tugging at his full lips. 

Peter felt his face burn hot, and he huffed in frustration. “You fucking- Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like it’s a stupid question. I’ll throw you back out onto the fucking curb.” He jabbed a finger at Hoffman in particular, who for his part did indeed shut his mouth. “You listening? Good. What I’m saying is that John Kramer is one demented old man. What is actually stopping you?” 

This time, the quiet was punctuated by Hoffman and Gordon exchanging an uncomfortable glance. After a moment, Hoffman shrugged and ran one hand through his damp, messy hair. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of, uh, checks ‘n balances.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow skeptically. Hoffman continued. 

“Information is power, etcetera. Kramer keeps basically everything on a need-to-know basis. Including, I dunno, who you’re workin’ with half the time. Hell,” He rolled his eyes, and lazily raised a hand behind his head to pat Gordon’s arm. The doctor made an annoyed noise in response, shifting away from him. “He only told me about these lovebirds when he needed help lookin’ after ‘em.” 

“I’m still mad about missing out on a trip to Mexico.” Stanheight quipped. His voice was softer than normal, but Peter supposed it was a good sign that he was speaking at all. He wasn’t used to the younger man being so quiet. 

Gordon straightened up a moment later, gently patting down the new bandages and brushing some of the hair from Stanheight’s face. “There you go.” He sighed. The warmth in his tone was so palpable that Peter had the distinct feeling it wasn’t meant for his ears. Despite being in his own apartment, he somehow felt he was intruding. “Get comfortable, alright?” 

Peter watched as Stanheight pulled himself to his feet, stopping short just a little ways away from him with an awkward shuffle. Gordon patted his thigh and spoke his next words like they took all of his energy to say. 

“Your turn.” He didn’t even bother to look at Hoffman. The detective grinned anyways, wasting no time in clamoring up into Gordon’s personal space and slinging his leg across the man’s lap. Gordon shook his head disdainfully, but carefully began rolling back Hoffman’s torn pant leg anyways. 

Peter guessed he wasn’t the only one that Hoffman lived to irritate.

“Christ, Mark.” Gordon sucked in a sharp breath, and Peter’s shoulders stiffened as he took a step forward to look. His stomach sank despite himself; from where he was standing Hoffman’s calf looked like a bloody mess. Peter’s a man who’s seen more gore in his line of work than anyone should hope to see in their lifetime, and yet here he is, staring in alarm. It was unlike him, and woefully he could only attribute his own uneasiness to the owner of the calf. 

As if he could read his mind, Hoffman looked up towards Peter. “Hey, it’s just-” He winced, hissing in pain as Gordon began to clean the wound. “It’s no big deal- no bullet inside. Just grazed me.” 

“You were shot?” Peter balked.

“Grazed,” Hoffman corrected. 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose in a quick-rising frustration. Hoffman was impossible. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Gordon’s voice was little more than a growl as he spoke through gritted teeth. “You took an unnecessary risk. Do you think I enjoy patching you back together? Honestly, if I didn't know any better I’d assume you were trying to get your sorry self killed.” 

Dr. Gordon’s tone left the detective bristling. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He scoffed. “Hell, I don’t bother you when you’re workin’ in the sickbay. Why don't you just- fuck!” 

Hoffman yelped at the unceremonious splash of disinfectant. Gordon gave him the sort of well-practiced fake smile that only a doctor could.

“My bad,” he murmured, unapologetic. 

Peter decided he’d seen enough. He turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, telling himself that he was just stepping aside to get ice in case the doctor needed some. He knew it wasn't the truth, though; he scolded himself quietly as he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his graying hair. 

The truth was that he couldn't keep standing there, staring at Hoffman’s leg injury. 

It’s ironic, because it feels like not too long ago that Peter would have done anything to put a bullet in Hoffman. Now the thought makes him feel… queasy. And a bit confused. 

Peter found himself comparing the apprentices to strays again.

He couldn’t get the image of roadkill splattered on the side of the highway out of his head. 

From what he knew of John Kramer and his cult, the apprentices were expendable parts. It doesn't even sound like they can trust each other half the time. One wrong move or fatal mistake would be all it took. Peter wasn't even sure how long it would take him to know something had happened. 

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps so quiet that he knew exactly who they belonged to before turning around. Stanheight stood at the entryway of his bare-bones kitchen, watching him. He’s probably spent the least amount of time alone with him. 

“What is it?” Peter’s frown deepened.

The kid didn't answer immediately, instead coming to lean against the wall beside him. He was quiet for a moment, and then shrugged. 

“Wanted to check on you, I guess.” He answered simply. 

“Check on me? In what way do I need checking on?” Raising a brow, Peter gestured towards the living room. “Look at you three, for fuck’s sake.” 

Stanheight held his hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, I just- I get it, alright?”

Peter didn't know what that meant. He stared down at the shorter man, scowl ever-present, silently prodding him to elaborate. Stanheight’s expression was… almost sympathetic, but his eyes had that same strange look from before: the one that Peter couldn't place. 

The kid was easy to underestimate, Peter knew it from his file and from his current involvement. He wasn't about to make that mistake with him. 

“Sucks, doesn't it?” Stanheight finally said. He was muttering now, glancing once over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone. “One thing to know what they're doing and another to see them come back with blood and bits of their skin hanging off.”

Peter felt his stomach turn. “No,” he lied. “If Hoffman’s gonna be reckless and get himself killed then so be it.” 

“No matter what you or anyone else thinks, I’m not stupid.” Stanheight laughed dryly. “You don't gotta lie to me, okay? I’m on team Peter here.” 

“Are we forgetting that you’re one of ‘them’ too?” Peter steeled his gaze, unamused. 

Stanheight grimaced. “I mean- kind of. Not really.”

“‘Not really?’ What’s that mean?” 

“I- like- like I’m with them but I’m not one of them. Old Johnny-boy has never and will never give a shit about me. Not exactly in the running to be his heir or whatever the others think will happen.” Stanheight huffed, rolling his eyes as he explained. “Pretty sure he wouldn't even notice if I went missing if it weren't for the pictures ‘n schedules I go and get for him.”

Peter is quiet for a moment. 

“Why stick around?” He asked softly, already knowing the answer. 

The kid just snorted in lieu of answering, and the two fell into silence once more for a couple of seconds. 

“Glad that Mark has you.” Stanheight suddenly murmured, thoughtful. 

“He does not ‘have me’.” 

“Maybe you can knock some sense into him.” 

Peter scoffed, looking elsewhere. “You’re frustrating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Stanheight laughed, “I’m not kidding, though. It always freaks me out how Mark gets when he’s like…” 

Raising a brow, Peter waited for him to sort out his thoughts. 

“Like, when he gets hurt, right? He just- just runs off. Or he’ll go and get hammered on the other side of town and when we find him he’s a mess.” 

At that, Peter’s shoulders went rigid. He was aware of Mark’s habits, his unhealthy coping mechanism. He hadn't thought about who else might know, how deeply it might run. He hadn't thought about how often Mark must be alone. 

When he looked back at Stanheight, he realized the kid was staring at him intently. There was concern in his expression, but also something fierce. 

“John’s really messed him up. Worse than he was before all of this.” His voice was low, almost cautious. “All of them. Lawrence, Mark, Mandy, none of them deserve this. You know that, right?”

Peter’s mouth felt dry. “I…” 

Straightening up again, Stanheight stepped closer to Peter. Before he could see it coming, a smaller hand took his own and held it, inspecting it. “I think Mark needs you.” He said, “maybe all of us do. So you gotta take care of yourself too.” 

Something confused seemed to bloom in his chest then, an uncertain warmth that he could feel rise up to his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he couldn't decide on anything to say. 

“Just think about it, ‘kay?” Stanheight let go of his hand again and started to leave the kitchen, pausing for just a moment to look back at him. “Oh, one more thing.” 

“What is it?” Peter’s voice was hoarse. 

Stanheight gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. “Welcome to the family.” 

Then he was gone, Peter’s protest to that statement dying on his lips, and Peter was left to think on everything he said. 

Hoffman needing him. Hoffman hiding himself away in dark corners to nurse his wounds. Improperly set bones and too much bandage. 

Stray cats.

Peter’s family used to have cats. His sister’s cat had been an old, white, raggedy thing that she named Alfredo. When Alfredo passed away, he had hidden under the bed and refused to come out. Peter thinks he remembers reading somewhere that pets do that on purpose, so their humans don't have to see them die, but it's been years and his animal knowledge is limited. 

Peter wondered how hard it is to socialize a stray cat. To reintroduce it to domesticity. 

He stepped out of the kitchen, lingering at the entryway, and watched the apprentices from where he stood. Gordon seemed to have finished with Hoffman’s leg, speaking to him in a quieter tone than before. To his surprise, Hoffman looked like he was listening. Stanheight was on the couch with them now, leaning his head onto Gordon’s shoulder. 

Peter found that he wished he could freeze this moment with the three of them in it. The bubble of safety that was his living room felt far away from everything Jigsaw. Maybe they were always meant to be here, on soft furniture, and not crouching amongst rusted pipes and jagged metal. 

Tamed. Domesticated. 

He sighed through his nose and walked around the couch, three sets of clever eyes on him again as he caught their attention. Now that he was there, he could see that Dr. Gordon had just begun to wrap up Hoffman’s leg and he silently motioned to ask for the gauze, kneeling down between them.

Understanding the gesture, Gordon handed it over, smiling at Peter warmly enough to raise his body temperature by a degree. 

“Strahm-” Hoffman started, bewildered, but Peter simply began wrapping his leg neatly. 

“Shut up.” He grunted. “Let me help you, stupid.”

[norringtondeservestheworld]

No one: Not a single soul: Me: remember when at the beggining of Endless Summer Aleister was introduced as a side character with the stereotype of the snobby and always annoyed guy and he ended up being one of the most important characters of the story with an insane arc and most of the plot twists involved him the writers were so wild for this

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

I have Gravity Falls and Etc. fic(s) idea(s)

Which, I am going to write now while I am having this fic idea (probably going to be a short one, but in the future I might make a revised expanded version or something. Who knows).

I actually have multiple Gravity Falls and GF TAU and Reverse Falls and etc. stuff that stems from this specific The Book of Bill thing.

Specifically stuff exploring Dipper's nightmares.

(I have some other ideas for the other dreams and/or nightmares too. Sometimes even in relation to Dipper's in some way).

I love my boy, and his nightmares hurt my heart.

But also because I love him, I want to explore even more of issues/trauma/suffering and/or to do Dipper angst. And etc.

Because I want both happiness and/or suffering for my faves/the characters I love very much.

Like Dipper.

So he is going to be getting even more of that from me, probably.

Because he is great and I love him.

[onlyasimp4nobody]

[essektheylyss]

I am obsessed with how narratively convenient Lark's divinatory abilities are. She's the only one of the protagonists who is both pragmatic and has a working sense of self-preservation, so having some internal impulse that is actually the guiding hand of the cosmos pushing her into doing the REALLY stupid shit is both necessary and really useful.

Like, I am the type of writer who kind of scoffs at the idea that characters are beyond the writer's control and will completely screw over your outline, because on one hand, a sensible outline will follow the characters' personalities and tendencies anyway. Obviously in an ensemble cast you will need to do some wrangling, but in theory your characters are responding to varying degrees of stimuli in order to maneuver them into the places you need them to be for things to all come together in the end.

But more importantly, "curse from god" is the funniest and easiest way to push any character to do things beyond the realm of reason when necessary, and frankly, what the fuck is the point of playing god if you don't embrace that?

[sciderman]

I would say you’re more of a Mr peanut butter type yeah

doggy doggy what now?

[tracle0]

hello!! happy STS!

okayy I love your gods! They are so fun! I did the uquiz and I got The Crow, which is. well. happens fdjskds

is there a common concept that receives a god but you refuse to give it one? how many gods did you create for your stories, if you can count ofc? 👀 do you have a favourite god? That one you keep favouring at the expense of others /lh /j

Hey hi! Happy STS! Sunday also starts with S. Bleed-over day...

Ah! Thank you!!!! The Crow is a good fun one. Actually, that's a lie, it's very rigid and strict. But crows are my favourite animals, so you get a thumbs up!

Hmm... the only thing I can think of at the moment is the moon? The sun has a god (the cockatiel!) But from my knowledge, I haven't given the moon anything yet.

Number of gods, ohhh, harder... but I have made a handy little chart to help me keep track :)?

Any god with a red dot in its middle is one I could write a story about, and/or have more details on. This is... also not quite all of them, oops? But hey, it's a chart! Makes about 19 by this count.

And oh, final one... I wouldn't say I specifically favour any god at the expense of others? I like to keep the stories balanced!

But.... at the same time, the entire world did spawn from the Crow and giving it a kingdom, and I love Glalis so very much. I have an end goal in mind for these stories, and it involves Glalis surviving, so it gets a lot of wiggle room and leniency.

Tbf, as long as it works within the worlds logic, and sounds about right for the various gods, I let them all get away with a lot.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia x

How fast could you finish a fic, from start to to finish, if you didn't work on anything else and had so other commitments and just didn't start posting until it was done? It took me over two years to finish my long fic whilst I was writing and posting it chapter by chapter. Then I joined a creative writing course and we were challenged to start and complete a full story within a certain amount of time. I didn't post while I wrote this time round and I finished the entire thing within three months which is wild to think about. I've just started posting the fic I wrote now and don't have to worry about future updates. Do you think you could write a full fic or most of a fic before posting it or is it something that doesn't interest or work for you?

Hi hi anon

Do you think you could write a full fic or most of a fic before posting it or is it something that doesn't interest or work for you?

I mean yes, because this is literally the process of novel writing and I've published two. They're in my pinned post!

But I hated doing it this way.

I know I can write an entire work before doing anything with it because I've done it before. But I hate doing it that way and honestly anon, if I enjoyed doing it this way I would not be giving y'all free original serials, I would've taken all of that directly into novels and I'd have around 30-40 (if I included my fanfic in that, it'd be up to about 60-70) published by now and there's a high chance I'd be way more successful financially than I am now and actually like...able to afford all of my bills.

But working this way - writing ongoing serials - suits my ADHD, and I really enjoy doing it this specific way, so I do. The day I start enjoying writing full works more than ongoing serials I will disappear into novel writing because with a backlist of the kind I could generate with my wordcount, I'd be like...

I'd be living a very different life.

And I cannot tell you how much I've resented/hated that I don't enjoy writing full works before putting them up / publishing, because I know that's the biggest barrier in the way of more tangible success as an author for me (not just financially, but also among my peers who just value books more than web serials).

But yeah, did it, didn't enjoy it, and haven't done it again since. Now what's more likely is that I will spin novels out of already published serials.

How fast could you finish a fic, from start to to finish, if you didn't work on anything else and had so other commitments and just didn't start posting until it was done?

Honestly it takes me a lot longer if I'm not putting it up.

So I know from experience (From the Darkness We Rise) that I can write a full ongoing serial without focusing on anything else in about 3~ months. I mean if we look at my monthly wordcount average, I write around 35-50k per month, sometimes up to 90k if I'm excited enough about a project or have an unusual amount of energy.

Longer serials take longer because they're, well.........longer. x.x

But if I'm not putting it up at the same time, and it's a long original story, it will sometimes take me several years. Don't underestimate the brutality of needing to manufacture dopamine with ADHD. This job is ADHD compatible in a way that novel writing isn't for me.

(That being said, I still wrote Blackwood and The Gentle Wolf pretty fast because they're short, and I was writing serials alongside and the dopamine helped carry me through. But imho, it's still a longer process and it's a lot less enjoyable. And the publishing process takes me way longer and I enjoy that a lot less too).

(Just because I can do something doesn't mean I want to, or that it's sustainable).

(I was completing novels by the age of 12, tbh. Completing stuff isn't the issue and never has been for me (behold the field of my finished once-WIPs), but how I release that stuff determines how much I enjoy writing).

I've just started posting the fic I wrote now and don't have to worry about future updates.

I don't have to worry about future updates either!

That's the thing when you've completed every serial you've started (barring two, which were deliberate choices) in a 10 year period, to the tune of 5.5 million words, is that you just stop worrying about future updates.

This is something I really don't have to worry about with anything, because I know that I'll complete my stories. Having that kind of faith in my own writing is fun.

There's upsides to having a story finished before posting it online, but I will say there are some cons too:

You can't live in the moment in the same way as your readers. When you're all experiencing the excitement of an unplanned story together, that's a feeling that, imho, is not topped by any other publishing feeling to date. It's enthusiastic, absorbing and awesome.

You can't pivot based off reader feedback. I don't let most reader feedback influence plot, but every now and then I get a level of feedback that lets me know to focus more or less on something in a very organic way. Characters like Mikkel would only have appeared in one chapter if it weren't for readers. I cannot tell you how many times readers have helped me go 'oh this character needs to be in this story more.' From The Raven Prince to Kadek, reader enthusiasm took a bit-part player and drew them more into the story. Hell, even Dr Gary would not have gotten chapters to himself with Efnisien in Falling Falling Stars without that reader feedback. You just can't pivot at all unless you're willing to do rewrites, and that doesn't seem as much fun to me.

Writing one's self out of cul de sacs with the pressure of a deadline is actually a lot of fun for me.

You actually can still write a few chapters ahead (which I do for many stories these days) while still not having the story finished. I'm about 2-8 chapters ahead on almost all of my stories depending on the story itself. I may be close to 10 ahead on Underline the Black.

Others I'm forgetting about. But I know I wanted to say something about length, and also about deep characterisation. No one will prompt deeper characterisation exercises than readers who ask questions you will never think to ask as you write something in an ongoing way.

(All of this is obviously dependent on actually getting feedback if you post a serial chapter by chapter and write it on the go. I am very lucky to get this kind of feedback by the best readers. Serial writing isn't fun at all if no one is interacting).

I make the choices I make anon not because I can't write in other ways, but because I don't enjoy it, and because I genuinely feel like writing this way makes me a better writer. I like the stress and the pressure of the job, and I enjoy it.

I'm glad you've found something that works for you, and it does mean that like, if you write enough novels (if that's a direction you want to go in) you're likely to end up way more successful than I ever will! And that's a great place to be. *high fives*

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[muttsona]

i hope i die, you broke my heart

[dirt-str1der]

Self shipping is always the morally correct thing to do

[britneyshakespeare]

i didn't like the roaring girl by middleton and dekker as much as i was expecting to. i have the feeling it's just one of those you-have-to-watch-it plays but as someone who has read a lot of elizabethan-to-restoration era comedy this year, there are other have-to-watch-it plays that still fare as better entertainment in a reading. basically the selling point to me moll cutpurse as the main character herself, and on that front she didn't disappoint, but every other character in the play had minimal interest to me, or if they did, they only had a little bit of time on the stage. having already known that the plot is that she saves other women from dishonor and remains a single woman by choice, yes, that's still cool—the gender fluidity inspired by the real moll cutpurse is cool. i enjoyed reading about that. but the whole action and plot around it. lackluster.

[dat-asslyn]

It's okay OP you can say Alice Quinn

the way people treat girl characters in fandom joker-ifies me