#i can only abuse commas so much

[hyperfixatedcatlover]

The Beauty's Rebirth Chapter 1 - Casting Call

Alright here's chapter 1! Please don't hesitate on giving constructive criticism. Once again, I have no idea wth I am doing nor do I know where I am going with the story.

TW: Starvation, implied child abuse, implied claustrophobia, implied yandere behaviors.

MDNI

Prologue - Chapter 1 (You are here) - Chapter 2

"So tell us, how long was becoming a model your dream?"

You blink, and smile sheepishly, before answering,

"Well, it never was that much of a dream for me to be honest. It was just a job to get a roof over my head."

"Really?" The host asks looking shocked, "The most famous model in all the galaxy never even dreamed of it? How does that happen? Did you fall on hard times?"

You pause, having thought of a fake backstory before hand, one that hides the truth while revealing little tidbits. You aren't [Y/N] Ivy anymore, she died when your parents dropped her fake body in their living room for the servants to discover.

"You see, my parents one day told me that I'd be going to a stay with a relative on another planet. They gave me a duffel and shipped me off. It wasn't till I got there did I discover the letter in my bag, telling me that they never wanted me in the first place and I was officially disowned. So I was only 15, lost on another planet, no money or anything. I found my Mother Agency and walked in, as it had started raining. There, they gave me a position to model for them, saying they'd provide a roof to stay under, and the rest is history!"

If only that were the truth. That would be easier to bear. Then you wouldn't feel guilty for eating three meals a day. Then you wouldn't be afraid of dark enclosed spaces. Then you wouldn't feel like you can't be anything less than perfect. If only.

"Oh, what a truly heartbreaking tale. Do you know why your parents would do such a thing?"

I can tell the truth here somewhat more at least.

"My mom was jealous of me. I guess my beauty was always there, even when I was a mere child."

"And your father?"  

"He never saw me as a human, more of some ornament for him to show off."

"Some people just don't deserve to be parents." The host says as he makes a sympathetic face and puts his hand over his heart. 'At least he seems genuine for this.' You think to yourself.

The interview continues, going in a more positive direction, maybe you are not as good at hiding your emotions as you thought. Doesn't matter though, you don't like reliving the past. It hurts too much. It sometimes feels like you traded the stone cage from your parents for the gilded cage of fame. But what else can you do, you never received enough education to get into any academy, just enough to read and write well

"Good wives must have the skills to be their husband's secretary! How will you ever do something with your appalling grammar?"

"Mother, I just forgot a comma! I'm sorry!"

"Are you talking back to me girl? I should've known I was being too soft on you. Bring me my belt servant!"

As the maid disappears from the room, you begin to tear up, knowing what was coming.

You blink out of the memory, as the host begins his last question.

"Now, for anyone out there who want s to be a model, what do you have to say?"

"The standards for beauty are high, but don't let them stop you. Don't stop eating trying to get skinnier, don't spend thousands of credits trying to get clearer skin. True beauty comes within, it's a shame that not many people believe that in this industry."

The crowd applauds you as the host grabs your hand to help you stand up and take a bow, smiling for the camera one last time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a shiny office with a model city's lights twinkling, a halovian watches the TV with a raised eyebrow. He calls his hounds to go dig up the grave of a friend he had never fully believed that she was long dead. He has an investigation to do, after all, no rotten branches can be in his family and the family's lost sheep must be guided home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a ship somewhere in the galaxy, the only sound other than the video game sound effects coming from the girl beside him is the television. What it is about you that captivates the beast is unsure, maybe he wants to corrupt you, maybe he wants you to fix him, but something carnal inside of him craves you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a lecture hall where the chalk board is teeming with mathematic equations, the doctor looks at the interview one of his students was watching in class. After confiscating the screen, he notices your face and gets the inescapable urge to sculpt it. It won't be anything like the real thing, but he desires it more than anything right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a gambling hall where the stakes are high and the tension is palpable, a gambler looks at the interview over the shoulder of his arm candy for the night. Seeing such a beautiful gem on screen makes him feel the desire to win her, no matter how high the stakes are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a living room with a few scattered swords his adopted son has yet to put up, the dozing general finds the interview on TV and decides to watch it. Her eyes stir something in him, a desire to hunt her and save her from the abundance, after all, she seems like the kind THEY'D try to steal from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A trickster on a planet of ice and snow watches the broadcast with an honorable captain. Both seem enthralled in someway, but one is blushing brightly and another seems curious about how she'd look with tears in her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a dingy bar, a cyborg watches the static-filled screen show her beautiful face, still lovely despite the static. He gets that tingle in his metal bones that he got ever since he lost her, the one that said his wife was in danger. He doesn't know why he feels the need to protect you, but it won't leave him alone, and who is he to deny his emotions?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a planet where a knight has stopped to refuel his ship, he falls to his knees seeing the interview on a screen. In his very soul, he knows that the woman showed is his lost Aeon of Beauty, and knows that he will stop at nothing to bring her to the Knights to be properly worshipped.

[romanarose]

Fic Recs

I'll admit I've been slacking. A lot. It was a high anxiety summer as you know, and I've finally been able to pretty much cut ties with an abusive friend who was causing a LOT of those anxiety and panic attacks. BUT I want to rec some of my fav writers and fav stories.

To keep the presure low on myself I am only linking ONE story per writer, whatever story that speaks to me. I do hope if you like the story you'll check out more from them!

Please remember to reblog their stories if you read them, and if you feel inclinded, leave a kind comment! Big comments are fantastic but even a short "Great story!" Means the world!

Dead Dove Do Not Eat and all dark fics will be in red. Might make a whole other dddne tag list on my dark blog on of these days lmfao

Moon Knight

Fractured Moon by @melodygatesauthor : DDDNE Yandere Moon boys x reader, non con, extreme violence but such good interpretations of the boys

Friendly Favors by @runa-falls best friend steven, friends with benefits??? friends to lovers??? yes plzzz

Rydal Keener

Oxford Comma by @whatthefishh : Collage AU, Rydall is cunty, serves cunt, and eats cunt. What can I say.

TLOU (Most of what I'm reading rn if im being honest)

Linger On by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin : Pre-outbreak!Joel, angst, yummy smut, ft. my boyfriend, Tommy (Angela said I can be Tommy's gf)

Caught by @toxicanonymity : Inspired Keep Cry'n, Joel catches you when you try to run, masterbates onto your face. part 2 has TOMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Maintainence Man series by @gracieispunk : Joel is a, well, Maintenace man in our building! He is married but that doesn't stop him from fucking you

Hungry Hearts @atinylittlepain : If ya'll know me, you know I love Bruce Springsteen. I have 2 fics named after springsteen songs, one joel one javi/santi/reader. I've fallen behind on the series but loved it enough to make fan art! terrible fan art but still! Pre-outbreak, takes place in two timelines- college age and then the 2000'. Joel has Sarah, reader is ellies mom which I think is fun.

Exit Wounds by @strang3lov3 : No fic masterlist so I tagged the main masterlist. Now listen. I love Tommy Y'all know I love tommy... but cheating on tommy? Im so sorry baby. But ur also an asshole lol. Had it coming.

Creep by @theywhowriteandknowthings : I- ugh just read it. darkish but nothing insane like the wrong way lmfao. pretty mild comparatively but use discression but THAT TWISTTTTTTTT

Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by @millerscoffee Yellow istead of red bc its not like. dark but Joel's pretty mean

Not A Survialist Girl by @tightjeansjavi again yellow bc joel's a dick lol but THE DIRTY TALK?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Miguel O'Hara

Halo by @missdictatorme : Miguel O'Hara goes full Nathan Bateman and fucks his ai. Whore.

Only You Only Me by @astroboots : so im behind on this one too. What about it! Im terrible I know but like Hungry Hearts above I may be a slow reader but I didn't forget and also did stupid fan art of this great fic too. lol. Anyway plz read this, I cant give a great summary bc im only a few chapters in but if youre in the oscar fandon you know cici writes only bangers

No One But Me by @koshkamartell : You try to break things off with Joel and begin spending time with the hot librrian in Jackson. Joel does not like thi

Triple Frontier

Under Neon Lights by @campingwiththecharmings : sexy drunk sex with my baby boi, santi <3

Through the Scope by @ssuperficialspacecadett : Reader works for Benny and falls for frankie. Great relationships with all the boys, reader has sexual trauma so you knoooooooow i eat these fics up!!!! lovely to see all them be appriciated with special focus on FRANKIE my precious lol guy

Shared Breathes by @frenchiereading : DAD FRANKIE x teacher reader. Triple frontier may have forgotten Frankie has a baby (he deserved the money for her) BUT WE DID NOT!!!!!

The Story of Us by @pimosworld : You served in the military with the boys but they made a deal not to sleep with you. Years later after helping you escape abuse, one by one they begin to waver aka you fuck them all. FishBen as a bonus!!

Goddamn have I really only been reading TLOU XD lmfao makes sense bc thats mostly what Im writing. That and the Javier pena x reader x santi and then the will fic but im soooooooooo much of a TLOU whore rn its insane.

Im sure ill remeber some more amazing TF fics soon but for now here we are!

Gonna plug real quick my latest one shot tho bc it's a holiday and I can self promo if I want! Shana Tova, moon boys x non jewish!reader where the moon boys share a part of their jewish identity with you!

THANK YOU TO ALL WRITERS FOR YOUR HARD WORK, I APPRICIATE YOU!

If you ever seen my like and not reblog know its just bc I forgot and im sorry. If you ever tagged me in a tag game and i never responded its bc I forgot and again IM SORRY

If I didnt tag anyone and you think i didt think your fic was worthy THATS NOT IT im simply overwhelmed with how much ive read and how this summer was and i just havnt organized it all. Im sorry!!

[oknowkiss]

fic claim: the waiting

for @m0srael & @hd-wireless 2023! with art by the incredible @babooshkart

PAIRINGS: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, brief Harry/Draco/Original Female Characters RATING: E (mutual masturbation, semi-public masturbation, kinda sorta hate sex, group sex, anal sex, blowjobs) WARNINGS: references to depression/grief, allusions to substance abuse (Dreamless Sleep), recreational drug use (weed), drinking, Legilimency with dubious consent, memory confusion, unreliable narrator, angst WORDCOUNT: 43.5 K

Read on A03 here!

TAGS: POV Harry Potter, Curse Breaker Harry & Draco, Curse Breaker Partners, Alternating Timelines, that feeling when you know something is true but everyone else thinks you're out of your mind, Alaska, Enemies to Colleagues to Lovers, Ron Weasley is a really good friend, I’ve decided you can actually buy alcohol at Legoland Summary: It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love.

thank you so much to everyone who made my first wireless a wonderful experience. especially to THE MODS who are beautiful and perfect and so so patient they should be sainted??? To @sorrybutblog and @eveningstruggle who read and busted commas like it was their job. thank you as well to @dumbledoodlewriting and @eggbagelsjr for sharing their real life knowledge and help with names, both of which made this fic so much better than it was. and OF COURSE thank you to @babooshkart who took my random twitter DM and then ran with it, and who has been an utter delight every single moment. one of my favorite parts of writing this was getting to know you better, boo!

a special thank you must also be given to @sweet-s0rr0w for her on the ground investigative work for an element of this story, which she did with me providing zero context as to why i asked, and which i then threw absolutely to the wind. i’m invoking artistic license!

and OF COURSE: thank you to everyone who has read and engaged with this story so far!

finally: a massive MASSIVE thank you to @m0srael for always being lovely, and for prompting such a fantastic song. this fic started with an image of harry and draco on a train, with neko case singing:

climb the boxcars to the engine through the smoke into the sky

your rails have always outrun mine

and, well, the rest was history. or memory. you choose :)

[whatthefishh]

the Chester problem

Rydal Keener x f!Reader

Part of the Oxford Comma series

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, no smut but mentions of sex, someone gets punched

Chester probably didn’t know he was the cause of your breakup. Or your attempted breakup.

Rydal said he’d go get you both some coffee from the cafe inside the building you were studying in front of, leaving you alone with the chaotic textbook pentagram you were surrounded by. Leaning against a tree, you were comfortable in the evening spring air, taking note of the turkeys staking claim over a certain patch of grass a few yards away. You started packing up your things, thinking to yourself that you may as well head back with the warm drinks in hand and spend the rest of your evening in his dorm. 

It wasn’t too dark out, the sky already darkening but not so much so that you were without light. If you headed back now you could still watch a movie together. You were perfectly fine in your train of thought until a tall figure stood directly in your line of vision. It took you a second to angle your head to see who was attached to the tall frame, heart dropping in your stomach seeing that it belonged to none other than Chester. His dirty blonde hair looked perfectly mussed, his clear skin making him look more boyish than you knew he was. The crisp white cotton piqué polo he had on only served to piss you off further. The guy really had no qualms wearing all white, the impracticality of maintenance not even on his mind.

“Ah, just the little minx I was looking for,” he smirked down at you. 

“Rydal will be back in just a few. You can… wait over there or something,” you looked back down to the text in your hand. 

“You know, I know you’re not as squeaky clean as he thinks you are.”

Your relationship with Rydal’s oldest friend wasn’t… the greatest. The mere sight of him made you uncomfortable, his piercing gaze making you feel as though you were constantly under a microscope and you swore you could feel when he walked into a room just based on your spine tingling from the heavy weight of it. At first, he studied you, studied your dynamic with Rydal, went quiet when he’d make you laugh just for you to sober up and catch him staring with his head tilted and a curious glint in his eye. He would watch how Rydal greeted you when you’d join their group, how he casually slung his arm over your shoulder on the couch in the common areas, eyes tracing over the comfort in which you touched each other. It unnerved you to say the least. This was all before the comments started. 

You thought he was still mad about his white Sperry’s from that fateful first day, so you tried to apologize and laugh about it with him. He had looked you up and down before blinking at you and walking away. Honestly, you don’t know what you expected. You didn’t tell Rydal about it out of fear of sounding like a whiny girlfriend, afraid of causing a rift between the two friends. You would just shoulder the discomfort for his sake, not because Chester deserved any ounce of your kindness. 

Chester then made a comment about how you didn’t smell so bad anymore shortly after Rydal had gotten you the Chanel perfume, loudly noting how you didn’t hold back from using it. As if you carried some sort of poor people stench with you before. As if you had to burn through the bottle just to coat you in something palatable. That was the day you spat back at him, startling Rydal with how much hate you actually held in your voice, but again he didn’t intervene. Your severe vacillating verbal abuse only served to create tension between the three of you, and you avoided him as frequently and as blatantly as you could. 

Shoving your notebooks in your bag with more force than was necessary, you looked up at him without bothering to hide how irritating his mere presence is for you. Standing up didn’t help in balancing out your height difference but it made you feel a lot less small next to him. He still had at least a foot over you, and he smiled patronizingly at you in your show of defiance. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Chester takes a step closer, your chests almost brushing if not for your step backwards, and he continues until your back is pressed up against the tree you were leaning against just moments before. Placing a hand next to your head, effectively boxing you in with his frame, he leans down until your faces are inches apart before speaking again. 

“It means, sweetheart, that I think we both know why you’re really with Rydal. You’ve been having a grand old time in our world. Why don’t you let me have a turn, hmm? I can buy you nice things, too, if that’s what it’ll take.”

You’re not surprised that he thinks you’re with Rydal for his money, it’s not the first time you’ve heard it nor is it the first time he’s made a snide pass at you for not belonging. That was something you were still struggling to get over, but seeing as it was only Chester you were hearing it from for the time being and not anyone of importance to you, you would brush off his comments, regardless of how much the thought pissed you off. Rydal never fed into his shit, easily telling him off in one way or another before you could even get a word in and you were grateful that he often didn’t even bring it up to you. It didn’t stop it from bothering you though. 

No, what shocks you is that this is his weird attempt at hitting on you… you think. If this was Chester’s way of showing interest, this was frankly the most insulting way to go about it. Did this work on other girls? He basically called himself a flavour you could try out, if you were so inclined. Which, honestly, repulsed you. It’s as if the personification of unseasoned baked potatoes was smirking at you, thinking he had you good, thinking he had fed you a great line. 

You were too stunned to answer for a moment too long it seemed, and unfortunately, Chester took this as permission to close the distance between you and plant a kiss right on your lips. You didn’t even have time to fully comprehend the slimy feeling of his mouth on yours, his tongue already trying to push its way through the seam of yours before he was abruptly pulled off of you. 

Rydal had torn Chester off of you, one hand on his shoulder whirling his body around to face him and, without hesitation, swinging a fist into his face. 

The crunching sound wasn’t pleasant.

Your mind was running to catch up to the scene unfolding before you, your heart pounding in fear of all the worst case scenarios, and you were frozen in your spot against the tree. Blood, and lots of it, ruined Chester’s pristine white shirt, dripping down his face from where his nose was bleeding. It was pretty satisfying. 

There was yelling, on both sides. Rydal was fuming, you’d never heard his voice so loud, never seen his eyes look so dark before and it startled you. He was yelling something about not touching you, not touching what was his. 

Another attempted swing from Rydal before Chester flung himself back to avoid it. Another bout of yelling, this time from Chester, a few well-selected nasty words about trailer trash and proving a point. He agilely threw his own arm and successfully landed it into Rydal’s jaw, finally causing your paralysis to break. 

Running forward to step in between them before either of them could charge at each other again, you looked to see Rydal touching his bleeding lip, turning to spit the excess blood out before glaring at his friend. Well. Former friend? 

“Come on, let’s go, stop it!” you found your voice, pushing against Rydal’s chest as he was gearing up to throw his arms at the taller boy again. “We’re leaving!”

You grabbed both your bags, essentially pulling on his arm to forcefully drag him with you, away from the cussing and bloody mess that was Chester. He probably had a broken nose. 

///

The walk back to Rydal’s dorm was uncomfortably silent, which was unusual for the two of you. Silence was usually comfortable, albeit not common. You didn’t say anything when he took your bags from you, you didn’t say anything as he mumbled awkward apologies to you under his breath about the long forgotten coffee, and you didn’t say anything when he put his hand on the small of your back ushering you in his room first.

There was a faint glow coming from his window, the last bit of sunlight left in the sky barely illuminating the room and you didn’t feel like switching on his harsh desk lamp. It wasn’t like you were going to get much studying done tonight anyway, and the thought of a movie was far from your mind.

When he sat on his neatly made bed in a huff, you wordlessly went to the bathroom to wet a towel for the dried blood on his hand and face. Although Chester was in much worse shape, you still wanted to tend to your lover’s wounds, no matter how small. He didn’t look at you until you pushed your way to stand between his legs, his knees outside your knees. You gently take hold of one hand, palm to palm, and examine the damage, swiping at the blood to make sure none of it is his. It wasn’t. His beautiful hands are unmarred, and you sigh a breath of relief at that. 

This is the most tender you’ve probably ever been with him, apart from the moments after he fucked you too dumb to be mean to him. The silence blanketed you both, only amplifying your actions. His shoulders sagged and what was only minutes felt like hours. Rydal had nowhere else to look other than you and your smaller hands, gently wiping his clean of the blood that was spilled, that he spilled, for you. 

Once his hands were sufficiently unblemished by your standards and the rag was stained pink, you chanced a look at his face, catching him already gazing at you a little warily. Like a little boy, like he was waiting for your disappointment and lecturing. Reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, you smiled a little achingly at him before your eyes caught the droplet of blood delicately sitting on his now busted bottom lip. His poor bottom lip had seen better days, no matter how many times you’d bitten it blue. You were tempted to lick his wound shut, swipe at the red liquid until his flesh was healed and the whole thing was forgotten.

He’d done it for you. 

And if that isn’t reason alone for you to give in to the raging hot desire coursing through you when you look at his split lip – for you, foryou – a physical reminder of his devotion to you, to defending you, to properly standing up for you to his childhood friend. Someone who was practically a family friend, their fathers going for weekly golf meets, their mothers organizing social mixers in the same circles.

Meeting his eyes again after staring at his mouth for too long, you finally broke the silence.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I messed up, didn’t I?” his response came out quietly.

“No! Well… yes, you made a mess of things but–” his irritated sigh cut you off, “–but, listen, he deserved it. And…”

“...and?” he’s waiting for your next words like they have the power to dictate whether he’ll be able to sleep tonight. 

“Andifounditkindahot.”

“Sorry,” he laughed in disbelief, the stretch of his smile causing his lip to split further and the droplet of blood you were fixated on to spill over, “what was that? You found it what?”

The hand that was holding his face slipped further to entangle itself in his dark locks, and you tilted his face up towards yours none too gently, the angle making his Adam's apple more pronounced and inviting.

“I said, I found it kinda hot, you dumbass,” you whispered right before pressing your lips together hungrily. 

It was obscene, really, the way you moaned when the distinct taste of copper reached your tongue. If he felt any pain from the press of your mouth, it was only serving to intensify his feelings in that moment, his tongue fighting for dominance with your own in a surprising show of fervor at such a time.

Your mouths moved against each other in raw passion and you leaned into his greedy touch, his hands clutching, clenching, constricting your waist. Any residual anger that was left in Rydal’s body was currently being used to turn you inside out with just one kiss, working in tandem with his ability to render you breathless. He was quick to flip you over, pinning you under him with his body while still devouring your lips. If this was his way of reclaiming you, the fucked up carnal part of your brain was egging him on, thrilled at the prospect of his tangible protectiveness. 

When you inevitably broke apart for air, you dumbly noticed that he wasn’t bleeding anymore, the faintest memory of a voice – your mother’s, put pressure on the wound – telling you how to stop blood flow in an emergency popping up in your mind before you met his eyes again. Sharing the same ragged breath, you shuffled even further into his bed making sure to hold him close the whole time.

He didn’t leave your arms for the rest of the night.

[the-final-sif]

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 75 total works currently!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

904,821 total words written!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently only really DSMP, but in the past I've written for bnha, marvel, rise of the guardians, homestuck, transformers and a bunch of other random ones in there.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Before looking, my guess is it'll all be bnha, since some of those are my longer ones and and got pretty popular.

Katsuki Bakugou has No Goddamn Chill (But It's For The Best That He Doesn't) - 26,412 kudos

Lessons Learned - 15,859 kudos

You know that thing where an orchestra swaps instruments, and like, some of them get it right away, but others have no clue what they're doing? This is that but with quirks, two unwilling participants, and also Emotions - 11,774 kudos

The Green Eyed Monster - 7,066 kudos

A Yellow Box, Time, Trust, and A Few Adjustments - 6,579 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Not usually, I respond sometimes if there's something that catches my attention. but. Uh.

This my inbox filtered by "comments without replies". I do read them all though! Even if I don't mark them as read.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uhhhh, for dsmp they aren't too bad but probably A Palimpsest Mind.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

For DSMP again, Mercenary to Mailman

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Nope, never really had issues with that. I've had a couple of weirdos but not really hate.

9. Do you write smut?

I did it once to prove I could but I didn't find it too interesting. Sometimes ideas can be fun but ever since the one time I found myself just wanting to write something else when I tried.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nah, it's not my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, very weirdly. Was able to get it taken down though!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Several of my fics have been translated and it was super cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I don't think I have? But I've done RP and worked out ideas with people before!

14. What‘s your all-time favorite ship?

Uh, honestly I'm less interested in ships themselves and more the nonsense that you can create with that. Any ship can be my favorite if it serves my purposes.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Fissile Family tbh. I have so much written for that and it all planned out but my interested in the bnha fandom is currently dead.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I'm a pretty fast writer overall, and I think I do well with characterization and dialogue. I know that when I get in a flow I can get character voices down pretty well and that's something that I'm proud of. I'm also pretty good with doing my own take on characters that's different from their canon versions but is still verisimilar.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I just forget words or switch what sentence I'm writing halfway through and then never catch it. Also I have to actively beat back my own comma abuse.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's neat? Unclear what this question is asking me for.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Warrior cats! It was hand written in a binder that I actually still have, about clans in an abandoned shopping mall. It was very silly and I'm still proud of baby me for writing it!

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Seven Year Old Katsuki Has The Ability To Kill A Grown Man And No Concept Of Legality

The formatting on this one was insane and took so long and I'm proud of how it came out!

[sugoi-and-spice]

Like my work? Please consider contributing to my Ko-Fi!

Chapter Twenty - Interlude I. Love

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad's boss's son. He was the creep that stole girls' underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it's not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn't sleep with him, right? ...right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

She was at a breaking point. No seriously. She didn’t know how much more of this she could handle.

“The relationship between polar coordinates and the standard rectangular coordinates x comma y is represented in the four equations x equals r cosine-theta, y equals r sine-theta, r-squared equals…” she mumbled through her notes.

She was pretty sure that she wasn’t even processing the words she was saying anymore, she’d been studying so long. But honestly, what other choice did she have right now?

With swim practice canceled this week for finals, her friends preoccupied with their own study frenzies, and Shigaraki in Kyushu for the week, she had no distractions, no excuses to fill her freetime with anything other than studying. And with not only finals this week, but entrance exams following close around the corner, she was determined to take full advantage of that time.

…Maybe too full of advantage. She dropped her head on the desk, mind completely swarmed with static. She was pretty sure that if she tried to stuff one more vocabulary word or equation into that brain of hers that it’d actually explode. She could practically smell the smoke coming from her own ears. 

She peered up as her phone buzzed up a storm next to her. At last, a respite from her own brain. It was probably just spam, but even making dumb smalltalk with the robot asking her about her car’s extended warranty sounded like a great break at the moment.

But then she saw who was actually on the caller ID, and was instantly filled with confusion and a light garnish of dread.

Mirio Togata.

Why was he calling her? Wasn’t he supposed to be at work right now? 

Against the nagging feeling in her gut, she answered the phone.

“Hey, babe!” he chirped on the other end, supposedly full of his normal enthusiasm, there was something kind of off about his voice, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

“Hey…” she said cautiously, “What’s up?”

“Not much! The weather’s awesome today, isn’t it?! Makes me wish I didn’t have to work! How about you?”

“Um… I guess, maybe?” she answered, pushing open her blinds slightly to reveal a definitively gray sky, “I haven’t really been outside either…”

“Studying hard, or hardly studying?” he joked.

“Uh, well I…” she sighed, a little annoyed and wanting to just get to the point, “Is something wrong? You don’t usually call when you’re at work.”

There was a pause on the other end, Mirio caught off guard by being confronted directly. He’d obviously hoped to have some weird segue into whatever he was calling about.

“Mirio—?”

“Haha, yeah, I guess you caught me there, huh?” he laughed, clearly forced,  “I guess I just—! Well, um…”

Her brows furrowed, Mirio was at a loss for words. That was really not like him. Now she was getting worried.

“...Yeah?”

“Well, there’s something I want to ask you and I really don’t think it can wait any longer.”

“Okay…”

“So um, yeah here it goes!” he laughed nervously, “Were you with Shigaraki last week?”

Wait, that was it? 

The way Mirio had been ramping up and beating around the bush so much, she’d assumed that this was going to be about something way bigger, maybe something involving the swim dinner or before. About an incident with Shigaraki that he didn’t know about. But asking about last week? What was the problem exactly? 

“Yeah,” she answered, audibly confused, “I told you that we were gonna study and game at his place.”

“You said it was you two and another friend.”

“It was,” she insisted.

“Okay, so why did I hear from Shindo that you two were having dinner alone together?”

She blinked. 

“Huh?”

Not too long ago that would have sparked an immediate “oh crap” reaction from her, a panic that she was caught up shit creek without a paddle. But today? When she had nothing to hide? She was just confused. 

“Well, we were hungry so we went out for a bite…”

“Just the two of you though?”

“Yeah, Spinner had work and—” she cut herself off before she got too worked up with excuses, not sure why she needed to explain this, “What’s the problem here? You were the one who encouraged me to keep hanging out with Shigaraki.”

“Sure, but I thought you guys were just like, hanging out at his house or the library or something...”

She scoffed, rising to pace her room as irritation coursed heavier through her tendons, “What’s the difference? If you trust me alone at his house, why don’t you trust me when I’m getting dinner with him?”

“Babe, I trust you no matter where you are. Just…” he sighed, trying to figure out how to word this, “I mean you gotta think about the implications. You two having dinner alone together looks like a date.”

“But it wasn’t a date.”

“ I know that,” he assured her, “But that’s not what our classmates are gonna think.”

She stopped in her tracks.

Oh.

Ohhh. 

So that’s why he was upset. She should’ve fucking known.

“Is that really all you care about?” she demanded, “Not whether or not I’m on a date with another guy, but whether or not it looks like I’m on a date?”

“Come on babe, you know that’s not what I meant—”

“Do I?!” she snapped, “Who cares what our classmates think? We know the truth, so what’s the problem?!”

Mirio sighed, “Babe, I didn’t call to pick a fight. I’m just asking you to have a little more self-awareness, alright?”

She laughed in disbelief, “You know, that’s real rich coming from you, Peaches.”

Finally, Mirio too let his frustration get the better of him, “Oh my God— when did you become so mean ?!”

“I don’t know, probably around the same time you became such a judgemental asshole !” she shouted, before slamming her thumb into the end call icon and throwing the stupid thing onto her bed.

She stood there, chest heaving in rage, trying to calm herself down. It took her a couple of minutes to realize that her Dad was standing outside her open door, wide-eyed and fist raised mid-knock.

Continue on AO3

[underdark-dreams]

Facts About Fellow Writers Tag Game

Thank you @darkurgetrash and @lostinforestbound for the tags! Tagging @rolansrighthorn (zero pressure, only if you feel like participating 🖤)

Last book I read: 

I'm reading through the Fourth Wing series by Rebecca Yarros right now (thanks for the rec Cal!) Last book I finished was a re-read of Jennette McCurdy's I'm Glad My Mom Died. Obsessed with her raw honesty

Greatest literary inspiration: 

Jane Austen for her characterization and use of the Loud Silence, and Dickens for his world building and details! (sidenote A Tale of Two Cities: The Musical was one of the 2008 recession's most tragic victims, go look it up if you're a Les Mis fan)

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write:

I very much want to but am so bad at writing M/M pairings 🫣 At the same time, M!Paladin Tav x any of the Tiefling men is literally catnip to me. I love it sm 😩

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me:

Ikaron 💗 Anything Ikaron, including a rewrite of the Tieflings in Act 2 with him as a protag. I'll probably write it anyway! We Ikaron lovers are few but feral. There are dozens of us!

You can recognize my writing by:

Pared-down prose, comma splices, gerunds, too many adverbs, use & abuse of pining tropes. Generally all the things I was taught not to do in my creative writing program but said fuck it

My most controversial take (current fandom):

Zevlor as a paladin companion ("good" route alternative to Minthara) makes more sense than Halsin or Minsc as a companion. Halsin at least should've been party-recruitable going into Act 2 and the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Right? He would have so much idle dialogue while exploring that map. And though I truly adore Minsc and do use him in my party (re-specced to Gloomstalker to give Astarion a break now and then), he's just recruited so late in Act 3. Recruiting Zevlor in the Mindflayer Colony and bringing him into Act 3 (plus the Ketheric fight) would've just been so interesting for the Tief community as a whole. They are such a big part of Acts 1 & 2, it just feels like they need more closure in the final act.

Current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut):

I'd say a 7! I am noodling on little blurbs every night, including for my Rolan WIPs, and for any other NPCs that strike my fancy. I don't have as much free time as I did in January (fuck work) or I'd be writing a lot more. And Rimworld Anomaly DLC + Stardew 1.6 are seriously testing my free time lmao! But the thirst to write can never be snuffed out~

Top 3 favorite tropes?

MUTUAL PINING 😩

Forced Proximity ( awakened by @catsharky who handed me the plot for Pent Up)

Hurt/Comfort

Share a random frustration:

It takes me a lot of time and effort to get into a writing flow. The littlest distraction can completely derail a good session (ADHD gang wya)

Also, I can never turn off my editor mode, am constantly editing as I draft, and am slow as fuck at writing as a result 😭

[jessielefey]

I love you topical song lyrics as fic and/or chapter titles

I love you songfics that are half pre-existing lyrics in italics

I love you meandering plots that don't know what needs to stay and what's okay to go so they end up sounding as much like some chimera of diary entries and stream of consciousness as a story

I love you chapters that just end because the author hit the word goal

I love you five hundred chapter fics that span decades because the author keeps finding new Situations to put those poor boys(gender inclusive) in

I love you author asides to the audience mid-scene about how silly the fic is or how they just don't feel like writing this part and are skipping it or to have an argument with the character about the plot. I love you fics that just shrug and go "I don't know Japan, so this is all wrong, but you're probably an American too reader so shut up."

I love you blatant callouts of canon's flaws and plots scripted out of spite to prove how this potential concept *should've* been done

I love you awkward smut. I love you awkward lack of smut. I love you bashfully smashing barbies together before the author confesses they're ace and don't really get it. I love you author that understands it way too well and is having so much fun servicing exclusively themself

I love you ashamed author notes about how the chapter didn't come together the way they wanted on some of the best writing I ever seen in my life. I love you ashamed author notes where the author is entirely correct on their lack of skill and I love those fics too.

I love you spelling/grammar mistakes that let you know why the person is having trouble with english. I love you fics by dyslexics who are pushing through and writing anyway. I love you typoes that touchscreens tend to cause and typoes physical keyboards tend to cause and typoes speech-to-text ais tend to make. I love you six page chapters with only two paragraph breaks and three periods. I love you comma chains and semi-colon abuse and allergies to the shift key.

I love you No Beta We Die Like <Noteable Character Death>. I love you best No Beta We Die Like My Respect For Canon.

I love you in-universe typoes the characters do as a form of character expression. I love you phonetically correct misspellings to show accents. I love you things that seem like mistakes but are actually dialects or english-adjacent languages.

I love you mistranslated idioms and inconsistent pronouns because the author's native language doesn't gender pronouns and other weird quirks of grammar that give away an author's mothertongue. I love you for writing it in english or at all anyway even though it's embarassing and people can be mean.

I love you fics that include sign language references. I love you fics where the author knows the sign language; I love you fics where the author is semi-educated on the language but sorta fumbles showing it; I love you fics where the author doesn't even try and just goes "the characters know, fill in the blanks yourself if you're so smart."

I love you ten chapter fic that last updated in 2019. I love you 68/70 chapter fic that will never finish.

I love you cringe self-insert OC; I hope they gave the author what they needed when they write themselves into the story

I love you folktales. I love you stealing back characters from Official Canon. I love you OOC.

I love you AO3. I love you tumblr. I love you wattpad. (I never loved you fanfiction.net :-p but I don't hold it against your authorbase who I love very much.)

I loved you livejournal and geocities and angelfire and old shipping websites on someone's parent's work server only accessible through webrings. I loved you so much usenet rpg, even if I cannot love discord.

I love you. I love you *for* everything you're ashamed of. I don't think you should be ashamed for any of it, but I love your ambition to improve. Please let it improve you not silence you, okay?

I. Love. You.

[binders-and-beanies]

Uhhh life update under the cut (neutral but very ranty)

So I started/ am starting a new internship this week. I didn’t update much throughout the process bc things at my last one got increasingly heinous, like actually abusive n after that trauma I’m too scared to even consider what my future looks like rn. And if I were to express every shitty thing that’s gone on the past month it would actually consume all my time and I’m trying to move on. One can only hope that it was one brief part of my social work journey but the trust issues are real n will probably affect me as long as I live and I’m not even being dramatic 👍🏻 however comma it appears my dream of being a Therapist™️ is not lost, im excited n terrified to say that im going to be a substance use disorders therapist for the next 7 months, if I end up rly liking that it may be a long term thing and if its not my strong suit i still have the option to pursue more general therapy or whatever else. Ive been experiencing a million and six emotions abt this transition bc its been so uniquely stressful and I dont feel prepared but i want this to be like,, a third shot at building a relationship w a workplace that furthers my development n confidence in the field, n i want to be the person for clients that i set out to be when i decided on social work. It’s tough to feel available for smth intense like this when i dont rly get to heal from what’s going on w me personally rn but i kinda gotta just jump in and keep going like i always have. Maybe this will all be a necessary step towards a better quality of life in the future idk. Im sooo so scared but im also so excited to be doing the thing that my previous job kinda stole from me. And even if this ends up being the hardest thing ive ever done its getting me out of a situation that was traumatizing me more each day and im grateful for that. I’ll always look back on this first several months of grad school as a particularly rough time but HOPEFULLY someday I can laugh at how those few months were so insane but the rest of grad school actually got me somewhere. I’m stuck between not wanting to dare to hope vs being even More afraid of that trauma bleeding into my next chapter so I’m just rly insisting on starting over n making this a fresh (if slightly late) start

[ronancecats]

And when someone says to include the other male characters who've done shitty things you go on about how you love them instead of staying on topic about how the fandom treats them like a hypocrite

You've set up your own double standard just like sexist steddies/harringroves you're complaining about good job!

HAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAH, sorry for taking a while to respond, I was sleeping, but here we go

1. Please discover commas, they really do help people listen to you.

2. Did you even read it? I said I used Steve as an example because the Nancy/Steve doubles standards are the most common, and I never said i hated Steve or loved Jonathan and Hopper (even though I do) just because I was countering your point, doesn't mean I was "going on a about how much I love them". (You literally said John never apologized and Hopper is an abuser, ofc I was going to argue those points)

3. Staying on topic? Bestie, my og post wasn't even about Steve, I mentioned him and used him to show how the fandom treats NANCY.

4. My own double standards? The hell 😭 okay, if you want to know the other double standards so badly, here they are: Mike/Max are a pretty a common one, as well as Jonathan/Nancy, but that one isn't as much. I've surprisingly seen people have double standards between Will/Eleven, which makes no sense. Steve/Robin and Eddie/Robin aren't as common anymore, but when s3 first came out it definitely was. Do I seriously need to keep going for you to understand that it's not just Steve but I only used his as an example because it's the most common?

5. Maybe I don't go on about how much I love Steve because I don't love him, but I can still see he's a good guy and an amazingly written character, God forbid he has flaws.

6. Just so you won't keep screaming about how much I hate Steve, here are some critiques about Nancy that I can acknowledge even though I love her to bits; she wasn't a good friend to Barb at that moment, she can be a bit quick to judge, and she can sometimes push people too hard when she's looking for answers.

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Veruca Salt (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)

Requested by @comma-after-dearest

Favorite thing about them: The humor of her constant demands and tantrums, and how perfectly she embodies a child's id. As a character, she's easily the most memorable of the four bratty kids; it's no wonder that in the classic 1971 film, she's the only one who gets her own song to sing. She's also the only bratty kid whose flaws are just as bad by modern standards as by 1964 standards. Augustus's overeating, Violet's gum-chewing, and Mike's TV obsession seem like tame vices today, but the selfish, greedy, materialistic Veruca still holds up as a bad, bad example.

Least favorite thing about them: Well, obviously, she's a nasty, spoiled little brat, the worst of all the kids on the tour. (Except in the 2005 film, where Mike is nastier.) It's ironic that her fate is the mildest of them all, just being dropped into a pile of garbage while Augustus, Violet, and Mike all have their bodies permanently altered; nonetheless, she richly deserves it.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm a female only child.

*My parents sometimes spoiled me when I was growing up.

*I was slightly prone to throwing tantrums when I was little (though in hindsight, I realize they weren't really tantrums, but meltdowns).

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I've never been as spoiled as she is.

*I don't wear fur.

*I wouldn't want a pet squirrel or goose.

Favorite line:

From the book, when she wants one of Wonka's squirrels:

"All I've got at home is two dogs and four cats and six bunny rabbits and two parakeets and three canaries and a green parrot and a turtle and a bowl of goldfish and a silly old hamster! I want a squirrel!"

From the 1971 film:

When her father has all of his peanut factory workers opening Wonka bars from dawn till dusk, but they still haven't found a Golden Ticket:

"I won't talk to you ever again! You're a rotten, mean father! You never give me anything I want!"

From the 2005 film:

"Daddy... I want another pony!"

To Violet's mother, when Violet turns into a blueberry and her mother, with skewed priorities, asks how she can compete now:

"You could put her in a county fair."

brOTP: None, not even her parents; not only have they brought her up badly, but she abuses them too much, especially her father in the 1971 film.

OTP: None.

nOTP: Willy Wonka or any adult.

Random headcanon: When she grows up and inherits her father's peanut factory, she might strike a deal with Charlie to supply the chocolate factory with peanut butter to use in candy. Whether this leads to friendship between them, or even romance, will depend on whether she's reformed, though. If she hasn't changed, then Charlie had better steer clear!

Unpopular opinion: I wouldn't mind seeing a British-made adaptation that portrayed her as American, rather than the usual American-made adaptations that portray her as British. So far only Eric Idle's narration of the audiobook has done this, but some people argue that it was Dahl's intent, based on certain "Americanisms" in both her speech and her father's in the book, and the fact that her father's peanuts are typically more of an American snack than a British one. Dahl arguably meant for her spoiledness to be a product of crass American capitalism, not of the British class system as usually portrayed in adaptations. Still, her standard adaptational portrayal as a snooty upper-class British girl does feel right, and it makes her contrast especially well with the tour's other girl, the brash, tomboyish Violet who's usually portrayed as American.

Song I associate with them:

"I Want It Now" from the 1971 film... and the Oompa-Loompa song that follows it, after she and her father fall down the garbage chute.

The Oompa-Loompas' song about her from the 2005 film:

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration by Joseph Schindelman:

These illustrations by Quentin Blake:

Julie Dawn Cole in the 1971 film:

Julia Winter in the 2005 film:

And these photos from the 2013 stage musical:

[adviceformefromme]

Hi hon, I've always loved your blog and advice—and I'd love to have your guidance and thoughts on my issue.

I carry a lot of guilt and shame over making a terrible mistake 5 years ago, which led to the fall of my longest childhood friendship (16yrs at that point). I thought I was able to accept it, but I still have dreams about my friend that reopens the grief I have for our friendship. Today's dream was probably the worst; it featured them being willing to mend our relationship, us interacting like normal, planning to get matching piercings together, and it felt so real, I was so happy.

I came across their social media acc while taking off followers from a personal art account I hope to invest in this year. I was rly tempted to check on their ig reels and YouTube, but knew I shouldn't and decided not to in the end. If me no longer being in their life makes them able to live their happiest and most fulfilling life, I want that for them, I want to be happy for them. Even if it does hurt/make me sad. It wasn't a perfect friendship, but they were my best friend. I want to heal from this as much as possible, since healing completely is prob unrealistic.

I have a group of close friends, ppl who are much more communicative w me, but we all live far from each other so we only interact digitally. I've moved so many times in my life, that digitally is also the best way for me to keep in touch w any irl old friends—it's hard to keep irl friendships strong when you don't see them in person as much as you could in the past.

Tbh I'm kind of a loser. I'm jobless w/ no degree & don't have a driver's license. I know my lack of motivation to get my life together contributes to the lack of opportunities in seeing my friends in person. I am so comfortable in my home environment, even if emotionally/mentally abusive and fear change even if I know it's good for me. I have dreams and yet I'm scared to make steps towards them. That's a whole other thing tho.

I don't know what I need to move past this mourning. I want to stop carrying this sadness with me. I feel it bear such a heavy weight in my chest. I'm at fault and to blame and i feel terrible for being a bad person/friend to that person, even if I know I'm a better/good friend to the ppl currently in my life. Please help me.

Hey sweetie, I sense so much sadness in your message from how you describe your life, to your loss with your friend. I would recommend journalling or releasing your emotions through some form of expression. It needs to be expressed. Write, cry, paint do what ever you need to do to release these emotions because it seems they are completely weighing you down and hacking away at your self esteem. Writing your friend a letter did come to mind if you really want to let them know how you feel and if it would shift some of the pain you've been feeling. I can't recommend forgiveness healing enough! I've wrote about the process here. The journey to loving yourself and being kind to yourself is a process, especially if you are going from a place of feeling low confidence and self belief. But please don't give up on your hopes and dreams. They are within you for a reason. You are not a bad person, you are human and we all do things we wish we didn't, all we can do is show up better. Do our best each day. Listen to those positive affirmations instead of the music that brings you down. Choose the foods that give you energy, instead of foods that give you the food comma so you actually feel motivated to do your best. Read a book that inspires you, watch a documentary about struggle to success. Go help someone. Do a random act of kindness. Plan your tomorrow. Choose to wear something that makes you feel special. Brush your teeth before bed. Light an incense stick. There are so many little things you can do each day to add some light and love into your existence. Lean into the goodness and I promise the heavy weights of the world will start to shift. You'll start to feel a little lighter day by day. But it will be worth it. The light is within you, keep tending to your fire.

xoxox

[eliteprepsat]

About every other Writing and Language class I teach, students ask me how to use the em dash ( — ), so named because it is the length of a capital M in traditional typesetting (Mac users hold down Shift + Option and press the minus key, and PC users hold down the Alt key and type 0151 on the numeric keypad). Besides the semicolon ( ; ), the em dash is the least understood and most frequently abused piece of punctuation in the English language.  

If mastered, the em dash can be a versatile tool for adding emphasis and flair to an otherwise pedestrian sentence. For the purposes of the SAT, you don’t need to practice incorporating the em dash into your own writing—though you might want to—as much as you need to be able to spot correct and incorrect usages in Writing and Language passages (see what I did there?).  

Em Dashes as Parentheses or Commas (Most Common)

The above sentence is an example of the most common use of the em dash on the SAT. There, two em dashes stand on either side of the parenthetical subordinate clause “though you might want to.” The em dashes set this clause aside as something of an afterthought, not essential to the meaning or grammar of the clauses surrounding it.

When a pair of em dashes is used to set off a parenthetical phrase or clause, they are interchangeable with commas and parentheses.

So, you might see that sentence written like this:

. . . you don’t need to practice how to incorporate the em dash into your own writing, though you might want to, as much as you need to be able to spot correct and incorrect usages . . .

Or like this:

. . . you don’t need to practice how to incorporate the em dash into your own writing (though you might want to) as much as you need to be able to spot correct and incorrect usages . . .

Grammatically, these sentences are identical. The only difference is emphasis (the em dashes emphasize the parenthetical clause most and the parentheses emphasize it least).  

Em Dash as Semicolon

Most of my advanced students know that two dashes together set off a parenthetical, but many fall into a common trap: they think that when there is one em dash in a sentence, there always needs to be another.

They’re right that the sentence below would be wrong with only one em dash:

. . . you don’t need to practice how to incorporate the em dash into your own writing—though you might want to as much as you need to be able to spot correct and incorrect usages in Writing and Language passages. . .

That missing em dash creates a mess in the second half of the sentence. For a sentence like the one above, you also can’t mix and match punctuation—you can’t begin with an em dash and follow it up with a comma or a parenthesis, for example.

But in a sentence like the one immediately above, you only need one em dash. There, the em dash functions like a semicolon; that is, it introduces a main clause that is closely related to the preceding clause.

So, you might see that sentence read:

. . . you also can’t mix and match punctuation; you can’t begin with an em dash and follow it up with a comma or a parenthesis, for example.

Both the semicolon and the em dash are acceptable.  

Em Dash as Comma

 Unlike a semicolon, an em dash can also be placed between a main clause and a subordinate clause. For example, this sentence is ungrammatical:

A Lannister always pays his debts; as he should.

The semicolon here should act like a period, but the words after the semicolon do not make a complete sentence, so the semicolon above creates a fragment.

But this sentence is perfectly grammatical:

A Lannister always pays his debts—as he should.

This sentence could also read this way:

A Lannister always pays his debts, as he should.

Grammatically, the em dash and the comma have the same function here: they separate a main clause (“A Lannister always pays his debts”) and a subordinate clause (“as he should”). Again, the only difference is emphasis (the em dash adds a bit of drama to the subordinate clause).  

Em Dash as Colon

Colons are used after main clauses to introduce definitions, lists, or elaborations. An em dash can be used for the same purposes. For example:

In 1886, cytologist Richard Altman used a dye technique in identifying what he then called “bioblasts,” which would later come to be known as mitochondria: the powerhouse of the cell.

Here the colon introduces a definition of the term “mitochondria.” You might see an em dash here, too:

. . . known as mitochondria—the powerhouse of the cell.

Again, the grammar of these sentences is identical: a noun phrase follows the punctuation. The difference, again, is emphasis, the em dash providing a bit more flair than the colon.  

What about the Hyphen and the En Dash?

The em dash has cousins.

The hyphen ( - ) is very common. We can’t get too deep into its uses here (and anyway, its uses are not tested on the SAT, at least not yet). But you should know that hyphens link compound modifiers before nouns, such as “well-known album,” “nineteenth-century literature,” and “never-ending journey.” An exception to this rule is when the first term in the compound modifier is an –ly adverb, such as “greatly exaggerated claim” or “patiently waiting student.”

The en dash ( ­– ) is less common (for Mac users, hold down the option key and press the minus key). Its most common use is as a substitute for the word “to” between numbers. For example:

Read chapters 12–15 for homework. The event will take place August 13–18. The 2017–18 NBA season will kick off October 17.

To get into the habit of mastering dashes, keep an eye out for them when you read, and ask yourself what kind of dash you’re seeing and how it’s operating. For em dashes, you should ask: parentheses, semicolon, comma, or colon? The em dash can seem unwieldy and difficult at first, but reading and writing with them can liven up a piece of writing—and create emphasis when needed.

[nationmckinleyscorset]

Comments on reefer madness 1936:

The casting for the musical version is impeccably accurate

I'm confused as to why Jimmy is Mary's brother in this. I get she's with Bill instead but everyone looks so similar it's confusing.

It's nice to see mae in charge and not being abused however I feel like I have less reason to side with her so at the end when she flips she'll just flip rather than having any motivation.

it feels weird seeing people actually wearing normal clothing 💀

Just to note I'm watching the colourised version because I needed visuals or I zone out lol, I love the different coloured smoke.

This really lacks details in the musical, I know it's because this is "realistic" rather than camp but the pacing to this is worse than our first run through of frasier last December.

I will also say that I can see how some Storyline have been merged but its a lot less easy to follow.

Wild to think people genuinely thought weed does this to people.

It feels odd not seeing from "Bill" 's perspective when he's high. Yes his name is going in inverted commas because I refuse to accept this version of events (I'm just being picky, ignore me)

So is the woman in purple meant to be like Sally? Just (thankfully) without the burning babies and not so subtle racist Storylines?

I miss the days when Mary was in control. That sounds weird but from the way he's grabbing he's either going to try to or succeed in assaulting her and I'm not fucking happy about it.

Mae is unsettling me with how quiet she is.

I will say the old five and dime scenes are much more bearable, plus it features more which is interesting.

Ngl I was struggling to stay awake during the court scene.

Oh so RALPH killed Jack? And Blanche is alive?

This isn't reefer madness istg.

So I'm willing to bet mae in the musical is like a mishmash of Blanche and Mae since Blanche is the one who gets Bill out of prison?

Something to ponder: did Blanche think she was on the ground floor or could she just not handle the memory of what happened to Mary?

What a bollocks ending

Summary: not worth the watch, only put it on if you need a sleep aid, boring, slow paced, confusing, trashy ending, I will not be telling my children.

[commaclear]

♡ Ko-fi link ♡

Hi! I’m Comma! I’m primarily a tnt duo fic writer and parental figure of tntblr (call me appa) here on tungle dot hell, and this blog is for my endless torment at the hands of my lovely anons (as well as memes only I find funny, political hot takes, and brainrot rabbitholes)

I’m not really one for self promos, but I guess I’ll link my Ao3 if you want to check out my nonsense (and if you can’t get enough, I have a bunch of extra content on available on my ko-fi for the low low price of whatever you want to pay /nf)

Anons are my primary source of enrichment, so never feel shy about sending one or fifty. I do not care about spam at all, and as a teacher I can confirm that there’s no such thing as a dumb question (or ask in this case). Send me literally anything. Stupid jokes, three page essays, weird takes, memes, way too personal questions, samurai death poetry. Anything. Seriously, I eat that shit up.

If you ever wonder things like “I hope comma isn’t annoyed/upset with me” or “did I piss comma off?” the answer is NO. I find it funny to act annoyed or outraged in response to things, but I will never ever respond to people in genuine anger. If anything actually bothers me on the internet, I simply don’t engage with it. There’s a lot of negativity out here, and I am not going to add to it. I am not annoyed with you, or upset or pissed off or anything else. I promise if I seem angry, it will always be a bit.

And just so you know, I am possibly the most upfront person I know, and I haven’t felt actual embarrassment or shame in about nine years. It’s great for me, but it also means that I will answer pretty much anything you ask with too much honesty. Even if you don’t realize how much you really don’t want an honest answer to something. So askers, beware.

I never know which cw/tw tags people actually use, but if you follow me and there’s a topic you want me to tag so you can avoid it, please just send me an ask or a dm. I never ever want to make people uncomfortable, so I will do my utmost to tag it correctly. It can be anything. You just have to let me know. Current tags: cw abuse: this one encompasses general/sexual adult/childhood abuse and pedophilia, I can’t have a separate tag for anything sexual bc Tumblr will straight up erase the post from existence if I tag it properly

Um... Gender. Grammatically it’s useful to refer to people, but I really don’t care about it, so use whatever pronouns you feel fit the vibes!

Other links you may have been looking for:

join my Discord to meet like-minded goblins!

The post-mortem for Close to the Bone

The inbox lore explained (AKA what the fuck is wrong is wrong with my anons)

[scary-senpai]

Idk. I went back to working on Collateral Damage after writing it almost killed me. The fic is about Garou at the dojo/takes place pre-canon and for the sake of my sanity I locked the draft in a box for over a year. I am going to put this draft out in the aether and then gnaw on furniture or something.

Content consideration: All the angst; T for Trashmouth, death of parents, literally everyone is made out of red flags, pervasive ennui I guess. Sadness. Abuse of commas and metaphor? Too much Charanko for that literally nobody asked for, and yet. Gratuitous creative license vis-a-vis the way the sunlight falls onto the dojo during the scene in which Bang and Garou meet and making some far-fetched assumptions about what that might mean. I don’t actually know how sunlight works. I don’t actually know how anything works. Writing this fic has probably given me an aneurysm but I don’t think it’s contagious. As far as I know all my betas are still alive, just busy. I kind of edited this but mostly I screamed into the void

“You need to tell me shit like this, you know.”

Garou squinting into his phone, turning the camera to a makeshift mirror. Fresh from the shower, his damp hair hangs tangled across his face. Ashen, waxen, and hollow-eyed, Garou tugs at his gi, running a hand over crumpled fabric that will not smooth for him.

Charanko looks down, hopelessly lost in the room they share. Yet again, they are the last students to leave the dorms. Their classmates are already long gone, warming up, stretching, waiting patiently for class to start.

Garou doesn’t seem to care. He can get away with being late.

“Have you seen my fucking face?” Garou continues. “I look like shit.”

Charanko only knows what not to do—refrain from offering any sort of consolation, or encouragement, or words of concern. He cannot say anything that implies Garou might be weak, because Garou is not weak—in fact, Garou's strength is all he has.

“It's like I got hit by a goddamn bus or something,” Garou says. “All week. Can't sleep. Can't...” The words catch in his throat. “Can't anything,” he says at last, running his fingers through his hair, tugging as they snag on the tangles.

Charanko keeps his breathing cool and even. But before he even opens his mouth, Garou silences him.

All it takes is a single, menacing glance to sever this attempted concern. Charanko's comments fall to the floor, unspoken, mingling with all the dust and the dirty laundry, and everything else condemned to hiding in plain sight. All the while, Garou’s eyes burn with a faraway flame—a spark as easily kindled as it is extinguished.

————-

It’s dawn, but the light is elsewhere. This morning, Garou and Charanko walk together in the darkness, just as they have been doing every morning, since they began sharing the same room.

Somewhere above them, the unseen sun has already started its regular, ritual creep along the eastern side of the mountain. Day is breaking somewhere, or so they’ve been led to believe—Bang's campus, nestled on the western precipice, is both sheltered and obscured by the summit, and the stony cliffs that cast the dojo in their shadow.

In the distance, they can hear their classmates begin their drills. The sounds ring out from the dojo and echo through the harsh and hollow scenery—students laboring beneath blood-red rays that have yet to reach them, waiting for a light they cannot see. 

Outside, the darkness is languidly lifting. Charanko watches the sky above fade from jet-black nothing to solemn hues of funereal blue—a sorry palette of bruises, ash, and incense smoke that colors as much as it reveals.

The world, like Garou, is in bad shape today: dark, harsh, and unforgiving, with harsh contours whittled by cold. The spring storms have culled all the petals from their boughs, and the surrounding trees shiver their miserable little branches, their limbs cutting reticulate fissures through gray and sodden skies. 

“I can't take much more of this,” Garou says.

It’s unclear to whom Garou is speaking, if anyone at all. But he’s stopped walking, and he leans his weight into a fallen branch until it snaps, loud enough to make a point.

“You know, my dad would have been 36 today.”

Garou is unforthcoming with details, but from time to time, he lets things slip. Now that they’ve been spending more time together, Charanko is more attentive to these clues, these little hints spring up like new growth from dead ground:

My father wanted me to finish school.

He never once came to a tournament.

He never once saw me fight.

It’s not all his fault, I guess, but fuck—

Garou raises his eyes to the roiling sky, dark clouds backlit by strained light. He stopped walking a long time ago. Maybe he’s waiting for Charanko to catch up, maybe he’s lost in thought. It’s certainly a scene.

Spring in the mountains is mercurial and distant; there’s always more bad weather ahead. Last night's storm spared them, but there’s always more, there’s always something.

Garou grips the cellphone in his hand. Five fingers grip the scratched and battered plastic, five fingers white and rigid, impossibly cold.

“I just want my dead mom to call me once in awhile,” Garou says, staring intently at his feet, at the broken pieces beneath them. “Is that too much to ask?”

Charanko is, as always, lost for words. What to make of this strange boy—this visibly exhausted child, who has dragged himself out of bed, into the showers, and now to class—and for what, exactly? To strike down Charanko's concerns with one breath and then sputter out confessions in the next?

He settles for a murmur and a silent nod. I heard you, Garou. I’m here.

But Charanko, of course, says none of this aloud; Garou is tasked with breaking his own silence.

“I know, I know,” Garou sighs, almost sounding like himself. “No phones in class.”

Garou slowly lifts his head to reveal his features, the wide smile that cuts across his face like an open wound.

“Get the fuck inside, Charanko. It’s gonna rain any minute.”

Already Garou’s laughing, back to normal, or whatever he can pass for it.