#i don't really like the way i wrote it but here we go

[emilija04acer]

Jayvik fics list (pt 1)

(+ some Jayvikmel)

They are soulmates, Your Honor, whether platonic or romantic is irrelevant.

Firstly, here is an essay by isdisorigionale. Yes, they apparently wanted to write about a brotherly relationship. But it doesn't really read like that, in my opinion.

An Aroace Analysis of Jayvik—Not Necessarily Romance, Absolutely Not “Bros”

Their summary>

An essay I wrote in 90 minutes 2 hours after finishing Season 2 Act 3. Notably, those two hours were spent screaming to my friends on how fucking generational that Jayvik was.

Or: They obviously didn't need to make them make out to show how much they love each other, but I’m also pissed at how apparently this is being called a bromance like ?????

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Now onto the fanfics >

Green is my thoughts on the fics.

Those are shorter fics that I read...After the finale, fanfiction is helping me cope. I'll make a separate list with older and longer fics.

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You're Dreaming by Skullsz_Writes

Viktor & Jayce are researching in the library, but Jayce falls asleep...

Short and sweet fic about Viktor crushing on Jayce in season 1

An Epilogue by GwenEani

In the countryside of Demacia two men arrive one day, no one knows anything about them, no one even knows their names for certain. But they know one thing: they are partners and are here to stay.

What if Jayce and Viktor didn't die in each other's arms but were teleported away and were living domestic lives? There are a lot of these here, and rightfully so. They deserve some happiness.

to rot and ruin by ember360

The first words Viktor says to Jayce are immortalised on Jayce's wrist. The first words Jayce says to Viktor... are not what he thinks.

Soulmate AU for these two was a need. I love Soul Mark fanfictions.

Fortune Kooky by setbet

“And you end up with… a beard!” she exclaimed pointing at Jayce’s face.

Viktor rolled his eyes while Jayce looked on, amazed at her prophecy.

“And then…” she turned her gaze to Viktor. “You turn into a robot!” cried out the fortune teller, falling back in fear. “A terrifying robot bent on taking over the world!”

“Eh, sounds fake,” said Viktor.

“Viktor, don't be rude!” said Jayce, but starting to feel a bit doubtful at this point.

A fic about two academy boys visiting a completely accurate fortune teller.

Universal Constants. by Azurita25

“Yes, well… there is also the idea of constants, no? Universal constants. Gravity is always present, the Earth always spins around the sun–”

“And we always end up doing laundry together?”

“I do not think the laundry is the part that’s important,” Viktor stressed.

“So what is?” Jayce replied, making Viktor laugh, shake his head.

“You are.”

--Or, a glimpse into all the universes where Jayce and Viktor find each other.

wrong bedroom by a1sher

“Wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom.” Viktor and Jayce tries to break into Heimerdinger’s lab only to end up in Viktor’s bedroom;)

What if Mel accepted Vik's excuse?

…And They Were Roommates! by draconabraxas

Mel Medarda never thought she’d go on a date with a taken man; homewrecking was beneath a woman of her standing.

In her defense, nobody in their circle seemed to know if Jayce and Viktor were together, either. So, how was she supposed to know?

Miscomunication and more miscomunication! Mel isn't a sidepeace!

Why Love Songs Exist by Slither

"All these timelines at our fingertips." Viktor pauses. He smirks in such a way that Jayce knows he has a silly idea. "It would be funny if I were a worm in an alternate universe," he says.

"I think you would be a cute worm," says Jayce—his Jayce—without hesitation, and then he shrugs. "I would put you in the best garden I could find and feed you the freshest fruits," he adds casually.

Giopara is silently mouthing the phrase "what the fuck" behind them, as Viktor's mouth falls open. "Oh."

Oh, he says, as if that did not remind him of everything Jayce revealed before they sacrificed their souls to contain the Arcane. Oh, that he was beautiful. Oh, that he was...

Desired?

Or Jayce basically confessed his love, but the specifics remained unclear to Viktor.

Kiss me like one of your Zaun Boys by setbet

“They’re making out in the lab.”

“Yeah, they do that a lot.”

“But they’re not boyfriends?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

The first time Viktor kissed Jayce, it was a quick peck on the cheek, followed by a casual conversation. The next time it's on the lips, but then it's back to talk about formulas. Jayce concludes it must be a cultural thing, and also starts to kiss Viktor back. Everybody else is confused.

A story of two friends kissing each other, who are definitely not boyfriends.

only you by babybirb

Jayce and Viktor don't quite cease to exist. Instead, they are side by side in each breath, in each droplet of blood, in each wave of sound and light. What seems to be the end, is only the beginning for them. And together, they pave their way forth.

An ethereal alternate after-ending to Jayce and Viktor and the love they hold for each other. With it, they exist within all possibilities.

not to me, not if it's you by brewstersbru

They were supposed to die, then, a better ending than Viktor expected. Far sweeter than he deserved. Jayce’s hand warm and broad against his neck, foreheads tipped together, breaths fanning over skin. It was neat. It was nice.

And then he woke up, splayed in a field, draped in the tatters of Jayce’s blanket. A groan rose from his left, then some pitiful shuffling before a final, loud thump, accompanied by a slight warble.

perfect imperfections by bbgghost

In his dying moments, Jayce revisits some important moments he has shared with Viktor. And makes some new memories along the way.

i knew you in another life (you had that same look in your eyes) by coefemi

Jayce shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do it for you. I’d do anything.” He sounds so earnest too, and Viktor believes him. He is safe with this boy, he decides. Jayce’s smile makes him feel like he can eat the world raw, and Viktor wants to hold onto it forever.

 When Viktor and Jayce's foreheads touch, all the infinite what-could-have-beens spill through their minds.

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2x7 AU\No Hextech AU

I'd love to see more of this AU and will also write fanfiction about it.

Quiet Resonance by Qakk281

Jayce rarely wakes up before Viktor, but on the rare mornings he does, he savors every second.

After the events of Act 3, Jayce and Viktor found themselves in a different timeline, where Hextech doesn't exist.

what could've been, would've been (what should've been you) by ghostlyecho

They got married in this universe.

Jayce grabs Viktor’s left hand, examining it. He looks at his own.

Twin rings adorn their fingers, Viktor’s golden, Jayce’s silver, both holding a fragment of blue crystal in the middle.

They’re married. They vowed their life to the other, they promised themselves to one another, they actually acted upon the deep-rooted emotions that coursed through the garden that was their relationship, that stubborn weed called love, that always came back no matter how many times you plucked it.

What if it was Jayce who got to see his life in an alternate universe

What Could Have Been by TheUnknownGoose

When Jayce woke up he nearly leaped out of bed when he realized bed? Why am I in bed? His heart was pounding against his rib cage as he looked around. He was in a bedroom, not his though.

Or Jayce sees what could have been if one thing had gone differently.

In Every Universe, It's You by AniresNevil

In an Alternate Universe, a young scientist Jayce loses his hopes and dreams when an explosion in his studyroom takes a life of an young girl. Dean's assistant Viktor still seems to find him in every lifetime, and together they accomplish something once again with the power of their partnership. And maybe with something more.

What happened to Jayce and Viktor in the Universe where Ekko traveled to in season 2?

Both arms cradle you now by Alexthestarlover

They're meant to be. In every timeline of any universe, throughout all the endless possibilities of actions and worlds. Their souls are intertwined. But is it possible that they're together in death too? 

there was something about you, but now i cant remember by DipitinPuddinggg

He held out a hand for a shake, "I'm Jayce."

At the edges of his mind, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of his skull. A voice that was the same but also not. A face that was so familiar, but too smooth at this point in time, not yet marred by years of labour and hardship that not even the strongest person in Runeterra could survive on his own.

"I don't even know your name."

Viktor smiled and shook it, "Viktor."

After getting sucked into the rune, Jayce and Viktor get transported to a different timeline without the memories of their previous life. Except, some things start seeping in.

you'll never shine if you don't glow by hexcorehomos

Viktor woke up, his fact was hot, sweat dripping down it. Where was he?

He looked around, it looked like Piltover. He slowly tried to get up, still confused. He should be dead, he exploded with the Arcane. That's when he figured out that his leg was back to normal. He groaned, falling face down into the grass. He wondered if Jayce was here too, oh, Jayce. What would Viktor do without him?

He saw a few people pass, but he got the courage to speak up when he saw familiar blue hair, almost like Jinx's. "Uh, miss.." he got her attention, turning towards him.

"Hello, sir?" she responded. She had gorgeous blue eyes. "I need- I need help. My cane is gone, and I cant walk without it." he lied, desperate for help.

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The Poly relationship>

Radical Violence Theory by begaydocrimes10001

When Mel Medarda realizes that she's completely ignored Viktor's potential as a scientist, as an academic, she quickly seeks to remedy that. He may not be Jayce Talis, but he has his own brain, and he seems to be far more useful than most think. She's a practical woman, after all- it would be useful to have another genius on her side.

And when she realizes Viktor is also in love with Jayce Talis, and Jayce loves them both? She's still practical, after all-- she sees an opportunity.

(Or, Mel and Viktor are more similar than one might think. That applies to who they love, but it applies to how they love too.)

Mel and Vik are platonic in this one, and I love it. Sadly, the positive interaction between them in Cannon is non-existent.

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Explicit> (some are 2x8 specific)

Wild Like a March hare by crow_brain

Wild are the glimpses of their life, hot coals burning the soles of their feet. They dance like animals, trying to close the gap between.

(Or the body worship Viktor's always should've gotten)

Cosmic Coitus by Wink_Wonk_Wank_Wenk

Now that there’s nothing but space around them, they can do whatever they want.

Inevitable Change by magisterpavus

Viktor isn’t the same when he comes back.

Jayce is determined to make it work anyway.

convince you by spectacularorange

after being rejected once, viktor must find a way to convince jayce to join him.

2x8

Partners. by lw192

Taking place during the fight scene in the councilor's room, Jayce and Viktor reconcile and realize just how much they need each other.

(Jayce and Viktor fuck on the councilor's table.)

Can I hold you? (Even if its just pretend?) by Issavandra

“My partner died in this room,” he ground out.

“Do I seem dead to you Jayce?” Viktor asked. Jayce could feel him moving closer, he swore he felt something brush his nose. “I have never been more alive.”

A cool, metallic finger passed over his bottom lip in a featherlight touch. It felt almost reverent. “Do you want me to show you just how alive I am?”

[kingkat12]

so... this is the deleted original ending to the first chapter of seven minutes in heaven. made centuries ago. enjoy!!

(it sorta starts in the middle of the closet scene, so here goes nothing)

WARNINGS: SMUT! SMUT! ROMAN BEING AN ASSHOLE! mind control powers being used for BAD bad bad BAD things!! implied mind control during sex so is it dub-con?, dark!Roman, not-so-happy-ending

word count: 1,811

a/n: there was a reason this version was scrapped... it felt too dark and not fun and urgh i'm simply posting this as an ancient artifact lol. it might suck as i wrote this back in august, but oh well!!!

(Roman is NOT a feminist in this one, so... irony<333 generalizing cunt)

 "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, no longer meeting his gaze. I couldn't look at him, not right not, not when we were this close and alone. 

"So..." Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, and he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've wanted to try out, now's the time."

My breath hitched, hoping the thumping of my heart wasn't audible to him. 

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman, and I knew she'd be against it.

However... I was being served my biggest dream on a platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again? 

I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he wasn't holding a needle or no. That was when I knew my anxiety was through the roof. "So... you want a kiss? That's all?"

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would say no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he wouldn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what it was that I was actually asking of him. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system. 

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry overcome me— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

I shouldn't have been so shocked— I should've expected this. I should've known that Roman would spin this around on me. I definitely knew he wouldn't reciprocate, but this? What was it, revenge? 

"I could make your every waking moment a living hell," he continued, his cold hands suddenly travelling up my body, gripping my waist with a grip I was afraid would bruise. "Letha would take my side, of course... Who else do you have but her, hm?"

I wanted to break out into tears, now grabbing at his hands. Almost panicked, I tried to get him off of me, but to no avail. "I'll leave you alone," I pleaded, finding his eyes.

"Nah, that's not what I want," I could see the sadistic satisfaction overcome him— I saw how he broke out into a wide grin at the sight of my glossy eyes. "How about we make a deal?"

Making a deal with the devil reincarnated? Very smart move, on my part. Fucking genius. "Okay?"

Roman hummed, his harsh grip around my waist releasing, allowing me to finally suck in a heave of air. Catching me off guard, he suddenly pressed his lips against my forehead with the softest touch I had ever felt— was he trying to throw me off course? 

"Start being nice..." Roman murmured, his now hands drawing soothing circles onto my back. "And I will reward you."

I let out a shaky breath; I was thankful that the agreement didn't involve any needles. "... That's all?"

"That's all," Roman echoed, pulling away to watch my expression. "You and your mouth have been making my life hell, do you know that? So if you can calm the fuck down, we could both get what we want. How does that sounds?"

I wasn't completely sold. "And what is it that you think I want?"

Roman's eyes darkened; he knew he had won. "Me," 

Oh, how I hated him. I hated him, and I knew I always would. But as his lips ghosted over mine, seconds away from touching, I didn't stand a chance anymore when the following words sounded past his plush lips; "I have a feeling I might have to put you in your place a little, hm? Maybe you'd even want that? Because honestly, I know girls like you... You fight until your last breath, then you're completely in denial, and then you'll fall apart the minute you get what you've always wanted,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this... me? 

"And you've always wanted to be one of my girls, haven't you?" Roman leaned down, pressing a deadly soft kiss against my cheek which nearly took my breath away; I could feel him smirk against my skin. "Or maybe... the only one?"

At this point, I felt so broken down that I gave in to a nod. 

Roman's hand slowly ghosted up my body until his fingers gently wrapped around my neck, holding me in place, almost as though he feared I would run; "I can arrange that, y'know?"

This conversation had unlocked a deep, dark part of me that I didn't know I had— like this, completely at his mercy, I had a feeling I was made to be his. Brainwashed. That I was put on this earth to find him and be with him, and that we were destined to be together. It made me feel so weak and pathetic that my lower lip eventually gave in to a quiver, feeling a sob build.

Roman let go of my neck, stroking his fingers through my hair. "Shh, no need for that... You're fine, you're okay. It's just me."

Just me. Just Roman. He who that had haunted my dreams for months, the only one I could think of when I got myself off, and the one I had been longing for from afar for so long that it turned into burning hate. 

Roman must've felt like he was done torturing me, finally meeting my lips with the most gentle kiss I had ever shared. This was all I had ever wanted— he was right. My heart beat hard in my chest as I let myself melt against his dangerously soft lips. 

I wanted to be his, no matter the cost. No matter what happened or what I had to sacrifice. 

I loved Roman Godfrey.

... and I was sure of it now.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Yes— This was right.

Of course. 

I loved him. 

I loved him, I loved him, God, how I loved him. With every fibre of my being, I loved him. 

I loved the feeling of his body against mine, corrupting my mind until I was nothing but mindless. A small part of me also loved that it was our little secret, and ours only. 

Letha didn't have a clue, of course— I had kept my act up quite well when I was around her. I had kept it up around everyone else as well, but the anger that was ravaging through my system, the hate that was burning me up from inside was currently being mended by one thing and one thing only;

"A-Aah—"

My fingers tangled into Roman's hair, feeling his bruising grip around my hips tighten as he fucked me into my mattress. I let out a small cry, feeling my legs starting to go numb after how long they had been thrown over his broad shoulders. Deep down, I didn't care— nothing could put out the angry fire in my soul like Roman did. Nothing was a better remedy than feeling his cock inside me, no matter what, when, or where.

I let out a gasp as Roman shifted, pulling me into his lap with ease. I couldn't feel my legs now, and I had a sense that he knew— he barely had to put any strength into moving me around, especially with how he was towering over me in general. 

I let out a gasp as he sunk me down on his length, and I gripped his shoulders with a short squeak for support. Heavy breaths escaped my parted lips as I clung to him, whimpering at the feeling of his thick cock stroking my insides. 

Roman seemed beyond content, gazing up at me with half-lidded eyes. He revelled in the sight of how ruined I was before he attached his soft lips to my collarbone to bring forth a hickey, humming. That was the one place we both knew Letha wouldn't see it, after all. 

It was impossible not to submit to the devil reincarnated when sex could feel this good with him. It didn't matter that I had practically sold my soul for this, because every second, every stroke of his cock, was worth it. 

"You're heaven," he murmured, lifting my hips and pushing himself further into me, taking more control. "You feel so... shit, this is heaven—"

Ironic.

And just as I felt my climax approaching, flashes of thoughts I had suppressed came crashing forward. No matter how nice all of this felt, I couldn't help but wonder how I had even agreed to any of this in the first place. But it wasn't like he had mind control powers, right? It wasn't like this was some sadistic ploy to seek revenge against all the times I had been a complete and utter bitch to him.

No— it couldn't be. Don't be ridiculous.

... Right?

[bambi-kinos]

hey... what do you make of just like starting over and real love? do you think theyre rlly about paul? i think they are, but i struggle to believe john was finally making up his mind like that

Paul almost certainly thinks that (Just Like) Starting Over is about him. He purportedly listened to it on repeat for days right after John died and then there's the "walrus" referenced in the first draft of the lyrics, as well as the line about making love in Paris. I absolutely believe that Paul is the primary recipient of (Just Like) Starting Over.

I don't think it was John making up his mind per se...I think it was more like, John was unhappy with how he had left things with Paul and he was feeling optimistic about their future, so long as they stayed the course and renewed their love. However John is still John, he reached out to May Pang the same year and reconnected with a bunch of people out of the blue. Which is to say that yes, he did want to renew things with Paul and patch things up with him. But he also prepared some back ups in case that didn't work out for him. I think it was Harry Nilsson that received a middle of the night phone call from John where John was really warm to him after being out of touch for years. (Just Like) Starting Over was written with Paul as its true object and in John's heart of hearts I believe he wanted to make a new bond of love with Paul, but I also think that it is written as such that John could tell any of his old flames that "this one's for you" and mean it.

Which brings us to Real Love, I think that Real Love is also intended to be about Paul. However Real Love is a lot older and to quote a random twitter user I saw when Now and Then dropped, "it's another Lennon misery fest." When John wrote the beginnings of Real Love he certainly had Paul on his mind (hence the "lalalala farm" bit in the initial "Real Life" noodling around.) Whatever was going on with John staying in the Dakota, he was clearly longing for Paul and desperately wished things were different. But Real Love lacks the hopeful and anticipatory tone of (Just Like) Starting Over. I think John wanted to do more with Paul than sit in a studio with him again IYKWIM.

Real Love feels a lot more like an expression of John's regrets and how he wished things were different, that he had gone a different way. It actually strikes me as more of a venting song than something John really wanted to polish and bring to the public, "why must we be alone?" is a question John seems to have been asking himself through out the Dakota years. He put himself in this position and he is trying to understand why he did it to himself, even asking seemingly silly and pointless questions like "why am I so alone, why isn't Paul here with me, didn't I hold him in my arms just yesterday?" ('Yesterday' again....I said something wrong now he's gone away....and I don't believe in Yesterday myself....I never wished I had written it....now I long for yesterday....)

But when you're making vent art you don't ask yourself sophisticated questions, you ask yourself really obvious ones that you know the answer to but you've been scared to answer fully because it means accepting that you've known this entire time and haven't done anything about it. The Real Life demo we have ends with "just call him on the phone."

(Just Like) Starting Over is John making his first steps towards a new future that he wants Paul to be a part of while still being uncertain about what that entails. Real Love is John coming to grips with the scale of his loss and bewilderment at how he got here, the intervening years between his successful love affair with Paul vs the drug addled years in the Dakota being a smeared blur.

I don't think John had necessarily made up his mind about Paul. More like he realized his relationship with Yoko had run its course (whether he knew she was a parasite is another question.) That was his chance to be with Paul again.

[ghouljams]

how does one become free of insecurity? i’m already doing therapy but i feel i’ve only moved away from hating myself so much i want to d*e into just thinking everyone’s better than me

It's a long journey, but well worth it.

I don't think anyone is ever truly free of insecurity, but I think there's also a lot that is unpacked simply through the language we use to describe ourselves and the jokes we allow other people to make at our expense.

Therapy is great at helping you deal with the big feelings, but sometimes little things get caught in your head and it's hard to shake them. Here are some things that I do to keep myself feeling good, and also some things that I'm working on:

No suicide jokes. I make it a point never to joke about "oh I'll just kill myself" or anything like that because ultimately it just makes me feel worse and nobody finds it funny. It's also a good way to change your thinking and direct your solution brain away from "I'll just end things when shit gets hard." This one is a constant battle.

I compliment myself whenever I have the chance. I take every compliment someone gives me. I pretend to be vapid and self-absorbed. I make kissy faces at myself in the mirror. I tell other people how pretty I am, and I don't fucking care if they think I'm a stupid bimbo because I'm trying to love myself and that's more important.

Being kinder to my younger self. This one feels weird but I found myself being mean to little Ghoul when I was really sad. It feels easy to take out your anger on a kid that didn't know any better, and it doesn't guilt you because that's you that you're hating. But look. You were just a kid. You weren't stupid or ugly or unlovable or evil, you were a kid. I just caught myself calling my teenage self ugly the other day on my way to visit my mom and I had to stop and go "why am I saying this? I was just a kid." And it made me cry a li'l bit ngl, but if felt... idk it felt good in a way.

Don't let fucking anyone tell you, you're not worth it. Does your friend make jokes about how dumb you are? Or how you're so cringey? Or so embarrassing or bad at something or forgetful or WHATEVER? Yeah, fuck that noise. Tell them to stop doing that. Tell them it hurts your feelings and if they still don't stop they aren't your friend, they're your bully. I fucking hate bullies. Don't let anyone talk down to you, I don't care if it was a joke at first, it's not funny anymore. Fuck them.

This is something I'm working on, but when you start fixing one insecurity another will probably pop up. I've been working for a long time on liking how I look, and it's gone really well. But now I'm insecure about my intelligence. So I have to stop myself from calling myself stupid or not answering questions. I just fucking rocked my work trivia party, and Mr. Ghoul thinks I'm smart, so I just gotta keep track of my wins. Sometimes you realize that making yourself secure in one thing makes you insecure about another, but that's ok! There's a learning curve to all of this.

Everyone thinks everyone else is better than them. You don't have to be the best at everything, you don't even have to be the best at one thing! What's important is that you're doing your best. People notice when you're working hard, even if you're not churning out the best product because it means you care about it. Which brings me to

Done is better than perfect. Sure it would be great if you were God's most specialist soldier, but think about how much work that would be! Ok so you're not the world's best knitter, but the scarf you made your friend is their favorite scarf anyway because you made it. So you're not a world class writer, but you had a story in your head and you wrote it down. That's better than it never being written at all. Also just because you think it's bad doesn't mean other people won't think it's a masterpiece. Hell, half of the fics I wrote when I first started this blog I could write better now but that doesn't make them bad, it just means I've gotten better.

We as humans are constantly improving and evolving. Don't let who you are no stop you from striving towards who you'll be in the future. Taking one step down the path towards loving yourself is better than giving up and hating yourself forever. It's slow going, but man I've been doing this shit for a decade and I'm so much happier than I was at 18.

You might think that the more you improve the harder and faller you'll fall back to the bottom, but the lows don't get that low again. You're doing great. I'm proud of you.

[darlingshane]

plateau

Jack Harper x F!Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Jack has reached a point where it feels like it's going nowhere. You're not sure what to do anymore to break through that wall he's put up. On a bad day, you decide just to give up altogether. If he's not willing to make an effort so aren't you.

CW: SPOILERS, heavy angst, drama, mention of child neglect, mention of harassment, mention of past relationships, snap judgments, smoking, heartbreak, but HOPEFUL ENDING, I swear.

LONG A/N: Yeah, you've read it right. I wrote a fic for Jack before the show comes out. I think I have enough insight from the book and the details I've found about the show to mix and match a story for him.

I kept some things from the book that are going to change in the show like Jack's niece. She's younger and has a different name in the book that I liked better, so I went with that version instead. Everyone is a little shitty on this story, including reader and Jack, which is on par with the book. And this is written in a similar way the book is. The first half is from reader's pov, and the other half from Jack's pov.

Word Count: 4,1k

— Links: AO3 // Masterlist

It's dark, windy, downright pouring like hell when you head out the door after clocking out of the inn you work at.

Opening your umbrella, you walk against the wind towards the corner that leads to the parking lot. A car passes by fast on your side, driving carelessly over a big puddle that splashes your legs. You turn back and flip him off, but the car is too far gone to see you.

When you bend the corner, you glance around to find his car. It's hidden behind an SUV, and you don't see it until two beams of headlights flash at you twice.

You rush in that direction, trying to avoid getting soaked, but it's impossible. By the time you reach the passenger door, the wind has made sure to push as much water as it could in your direction,

Drenched head to toe, you close the umbrella and climb into the car, yanking the door close as hard as you can.

“Fuck.” You toss the umbrella to the backseat.

“Good evening to you too, sweetheart,” he scoffs behind the wheel.

“Sorry. Just one of these days, you know?”

“Anything I can do?” Jack extends a hand to caress your cold neck. His palm is warm against your skin, collecting the raindrops that fell on you.

“Just take me home. I can't do this right now.”

“Are you sure?”

Without answering, you open Jack's glove box and find that pack of smokes he keeps at the back. He's tried to quit many times but keeps this one here from when the urge arises. You're not a smoker per se, but today you could really use one to calm yourself.

You stick one cigarette between your lips and reach out to the inside pocket of the jacket he's wearing to find a silver zippo lighter.

“Help yourself.”

Lighting it up, you take a long drag and hang your head back against the headrest, letting the smoke intoxicate your lungs before expelling it through your lips.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No. Not really.” You offer him a puff, and he hesitates for a second before picking the cigarette between your fingers.

“Why not?”

“Cause I don't wanna burden you. Besides, this works better if we don't talk, right? That's what you said.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He passes the cigarette back to you.

“It's fine, Jack. Just drive.”

He tilts his head to the side, staring ahead at the mass of water pelting on the windshield with rage. The sky is violently struck by a massive lightning bolt, outlining in a blue electric shade the mountains that paint the landscape of Dahlonega.

You're sure he wants to protest or even explain what he meant, but he never does. Everything just hangs in the air between you two as usual. It's what you've come to know about Jack Harper. This is transactional for both, an escape from your miserable lives. But right now, this feels just as pathetic. You hate hiding like this, like you're a hooker he has to take to some clandestine dark nook around town to do unspeakable things. He's been divorced for two years and is still afraid of showing you around town, so people don't come to any assumptions. And you hate that. There was a time when you'd find yourself thinking this could become real some day. But it never comes. Your relationship has reached a plateau and if he's not willing to move up higher, then you'd have to move on without him… Eventually. There are things in your life that are keeping you from making that leap. Right now, being in this fixed place feels somewhat safe, even if it isn't where you want to be. Spending time with him, however that looks or means, is better than nothing.

Despite all that, you have bigger problems in your life than Jack being a dormant lover. One of them being your ex constantly harassing you to no end. Mostly via phone. But today he reached a new level of psycho when he showed up in the middle of your shift to ask you for money. He put you in a very difficult situation where you had to give him what you had in your wallet in exchange for him not making a scene. He also threatened you with plastering the building you work at with compromising photos he took of you when you were together. It was probably a mistake to bend up so easily to his extortion antics. You know that this would serve as precedent for him to do the same bit again. And you can't afford that.

Jack has made it clear before that he's not looking for that kind of relationship where you can freely confide in the other. He knows your ex is an asshole, but he has no idea to what degree. And right now, you wish you could tell him, cause you're running out of ideas to keep that fucking dumbass away.

The car veers through the streets, carefully moving under the unwavering storm. The old wipers whine against the glass, exerting themselves to keep the view unobstructed. Inside the car, there's nothing but a heavy silence, broken only by the thunderous roar of the rainstorm. On a night like this, you'd usually drive to your spot in the woods behind the train station or go to that motel in Gainesville if you can, it's always worth the drive. But tonight he's taking you home and doesn't press further on why you've chosen that. Sometimes you wish you could just yell at him, tell him you're drowning, and you're sick of him treating you like garbage, but you won't. Instead, a knot forms in your throat, bottling up all those words that are making your body hurt inside and out. You don't expect him to magically cure any of your imaginary ailments. You just want him to be willing to listen sometimes. That's all you need.

“You could come in, you know? Maybe stay the night?” you suggest when the car pulls up in front of your place, situated in the middle of a row of townhouses that look identical.

“Can't. I gotta check Zoe hasn't burned down the house.”

“How would she do that?”

“Pfft, you name it. Sometimes she leaves the stove on, or falls asleep with a cigarette lit on the couch. Came home once to find one of those hair curling sticks plugged, burning over a towel.”

“Hm, sounds like a handful.”

“I'd bring you with me, but—“

“She hates my guts. I know.”

It's not news to you that Zoe Harper despises you. You went to school with her at St. Hilary's Academy, and the two of you never got along. She was part of the mean clique along with Jack's ex-wife, Anna. Everyone was a target to them, including you. Zoe in particular still has a big hate boner against you, cause she never grew up out of that phase. Even in her thirties with a toddler, she's incapable of letting go of the fact that one of her ex-boyfriends in high school dated you after breaking up with her. She blamed it on you, of course, though you never met him after the fact. Just like your ex, she harassed you until the end of the school year, spreading unbelievable rumors about you. Luckily, everyone knew that was their shtick, and no one ever believed the insane lies that came out of her mouth.

“Is that why you're sleeping with me? To piss your sister off?” You can't help but wonder.

“No, she doesn't know about us. It doesn't take much to piss her off, so I'd be pretty dumb to go through all this trouble when I could just hide her glue gun.”

“Right. Do you think there'd be a time when you could stay? Or go on a date with me during the day?”

“Why are you asking me this now?” He deadpans.

“I don't know, Jack. I'm just wondering. I like you. You seem to like me. These are normal questions people have when they like someone, but I'm guessing from your expression that I have it all wrong.”

Silence. Again.

The man is a wall you can tear down, and you’re not sure why you still try or why you even care the slightless about him when he’s clearly signaling this is nothing but sex to him.

Your phone interrupts that unnerving stillness when it starts blasting a string of messages. Your ex. Probably drunk-texting the usual repertoire about how much of a bitch you are, as if he didn’t have enough with what he did earlier.

You glance down at the phone in your palm, reading the last troubling text he sent, and dare to ask, “say, hypothetically, if someone was harassing you, do you make an appointment with the police, or should someone just show up and report it at the station? How much evidence do you need?”

“What? Is someone harassing you?” He finally responds.

“No, it was just a hypothetical. Indulge me, just for fun.”

“Okay, if someone was being harassed for sure they should go report it. Guess depends on a few factors. You’d need to present proof of a relationship to the respondent, evidence whether it is physical, threats, stalking, harassment… You’d need an explanation of why you believe you’re in immediate danger to issue a temporary restraining order. Wouldn’t hurt to consult a lawyer, either.”

“That’s what I thought. Thanks.” You say curtly, grabbing your bag and tucking your phone inside.

“Is this what’s worrying you today?”

“No,” you shake your head as you reach for the door handle.

“Should I pick you up tomorrow?”

“No. I don’t think you should. Unless you change your mind about staying one night, you shouldn’t come around anymore, Jack. Take care,” you find yourself saying, rushing to leave the car at once. The way you shut the door serves as a period to a chapter that's run on for too long.

Now that you've said it, It’s definite. If he’s going to give you nothing but silence, then you’re not going to waste your time anymore.

Jack hangs his head down after watching you enter your house. There's nothing that he'd love more than to chase you and stay with you, but there's something inside that's keeping him from it. The fear of letting you down and screwing another relationship paralyzes him. That's why he's stunned every time you make an attempt to move forward with this. He has no doubt you'd be better off without him, so he'd rather let you down now than further down the line.

As he drives home, he can't get out of his obtuse mind the way your face changed when you looked at your phone and the hypothetical question that you presented him. You wouldn't be asking if it wasn't real, he believes. Maybe it's for you or for a friend, but he doesn't plan on letting that fall through the cracks like everything else in his life. If someone is harassing you, he can't turn a blind eye and let you get hurt or worse. So, he pins that thought to check on later. Though you've asked him to stay away, he can't disappear without knowing that you're okay.

By the time he parks on the driveway of his childhood home, it's stopped raining. He captures the TV glow through the window before heading inside.

His sister has passed out on the couch as usual watching one of those reality channels. Luckily, no cigarette in hand but a handful of empty beer cans clutter the coffee table between her array of supplies she uses for crafting. When he finds the remote, he switches the TV off and heads upstairs.

There's another light coming from the cracked door of Olivia's room when he climbs the staircase to the second floor. He pushes the door open to find his almost three-year-old niece having a party with her stuffies in the rug.

“Uncle Jack!” The little girl beams when he sees his face.

“What are you still doing up, lil bug?” he smiles, crouching down to hug her.

“I was hungry.”

“You didn't have dinner?”

She shakes her head, “mommy fell asleep.”

It's hard not to think badly of her sister when she does shit like this. He abstains from being judgmental, but tonight, he can't help it. All she has to do is take care of Olivia. She has no job besides selling cheap jewelry and clothes that almost nobody wants. What else is keeping her from meeting her daughter's basic needs? Really. It doesn't make sense to him. Her immaturity never left her, even after having a baby she still acts like a fifteen-year old. Some people don't deserve to be parents, and Zoe is one of them.

If it wasn't for Olivia, he wouldn't put up with Zoe's crap like he does.

He takes her downstairs and whips out something quick for her to eat. In a plate, he puts some chopped baby carrots, crackers, and cheese so she can snack while he fries some fish sticks and mixes some instant mashed potatoes. To be honest, he's not sure how much a toddler should eat at night, but he's going to let her have what she wants cause he's not sure when was the last time she had a full meal.

Olivia seems happy with his choices. She'd be a picky eater if she wasn't so hungry. She quickly devours everything he puts on her plate.

After dinner, Zoe is still deeply asleep in the same place while he helps Olivia to brush her teeth with her tiny brush he bought her the other day. It has a unicorn on the handle, which she adores.

When brushing time is done, he reads her a book and watches her fall asleep in record time.

Spending time with Olivia is lovely. It's such a beautiful picture, his heart aches for that part of him he lost. He was more than ready to be a dad, always hands on when he needed to during those short months she was on this earth.

With the weight of the world quickly settling on top of his shoulders, he retreats back to his room to see if he can put himself together the same way. He takes a shower and shaves the stubble on his face before slipping into bed. He closes his eyes, but after an hour, sleep seems to elude him. Something makes his stomach turn, and not because he's hungry. It's something else entirely. It's a gut feeling that tells him something is going on with you, and you’re not willing to tell him because he's kept you at an arm's length. God, he's such an asshole, he thinks as he flips on the bed to check the time on his phone.

It's late. But not terribly late to correct a mistake.

Jack quickly puts on some clothes without thinking, grabs his keys and phone to pay you a visit.

He makes sure Olivia's still asleep before heading out the door. Zoe is awake now on the couch, watching TV. She barely glances at him or acknowledges his presence when he lies to her, telling her that he was called to the station, that he’d probably be out all night.

The streets are empty and still soaked in a thick layer of water from the storm. He allows himself to drive a little faster now that he can.

Following another light, he knows you’re still up by the yellow glow filtering behind the curtains of one of the windows. He pulls up in the empty driveway of your house, and uses his phone to text you, typing he’s outside.

Jack waits for a minute before seeing the curtains move to show your face. He waves timidly and beckons you to meet him at the door.

“What are you doing here, Jack?”

“I thought about what you said and… Can we talk inside?”

“Are you sure? What would the neighbors say if they saw you here?” You mock him with annoyance in your tone. “Cause if Mrs. Greer sees you spending more than two minutes here, she’ll get the wrong idea. And you know how fast news travels around here.”

“Please? I just need a minute.”

Exhaling, you step backwards and open the door wider to let him in.

The TV is on when he enters the living room, and he's taken aback upon seeing the face of his ex-wife on the screen in the news segment she anchors at WSK.

“You don't have to say it. I'm pathetic.” You scoff, turning it off.

“You're not pathetic,” he's quick to reply.

“You know, I get it. She's smart and pretty, and everything I'd never be. I wouldn't blame you if you were still hung up on her. It'd explain a lot.”

It breaks his heart seeing you like this. Anna is part of his past that he’s definitely not looking to revisit. He’s not sure what you’re yet, but he’d never want you to think that you're anything less than amazing. That’s his fault for drawing this out.

“It's not that, sweetheart. I just think you deserve better than this, than me… I'm screwed up. I don't have anything to offer you right now. I know it, she knows it, too.” He vaguely gestures at the now-black flat screen, and pauses. “You think you want me, but you don't. It'll pass.”

“That's such s lame cop out. Why does every guy in my life think they know what I want or need better than me, huh? It's my choice to ruin my life if I want to. You don't get to decide. If you don't wanna be with me, that's fine, but don't say it's because I don't know what I want. Do you know what you want, Jack?”

His chin nods gently, staring down for a beat.

“Then say it.” You press him, folding your arms against your stomach. “You came back to talk, so talk.”

“It wouldn't work out between us.”

“That's not what I asked.”

Jack clears his throat. “It's not that simple.”

“Good things never are.” You keep hitting the ball into his side of the court.

“Fine! You win, okay?” His voice raises up, as all those unsaid secrets find a way out of his chest. “I can't stop thinking about you. Best thing in my life right now is when I get to pick you up and spend that little time together, and it's never enough. And I don't know how to do this anymore, how to be with someone. I don't wanna hurt you. And I can’t let my guard down again… what happened the last time… it can’t happen again…”

You see him choking up, overcome with emotion, as he trails off.

“Jack.” You bring your hands up to cup his jaw in your palms.

You open your mouth to say something else, but now it's you that gets to be speechless, so you just pull his face close, so his forehead falls on top of yours. He closes his eyes, and you close yours, letting the circling of your thumbs sooth the freshly-shaved skin of his cheeks. There’s really nothing you can say to ease the pain that he still harbors.

“It's okay,” you say after a long minute. “We don't have to rush into anything. We'll figure it out as we go. I just need you to talk to me, Jack. Just once in a while. You think we could do that? Be honest with each other?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he exhales, letting a small part of that heaviness he carries evaporate in the open space.

When he pulls his head back, you open your eyes as he places a kiss on your forehead, before locking his arms around you. His nose captures the scent of your hair while you tuck your arms around his torso.

Now that the air seems slightly clearer between you, he relaxes in your embrace for longer than he ever has. It feels like you’re holding him up, instead the other way around.

Something creeps back into his stomach—that uneasy feeling that wouldn’t let him sleep and that brought him to your door. He clears his throat to swallow the bittersweet taste left in his mouth of that sudden confession to change the subject and focus on you instead.

He hesitates to ask, but he has to.

“Hey. Do you think we could start now, being honest, I mean?”

“Sure.” You tilt your head back to capture his gaze.

“What you asked me about earlier in the car when I brought you home about harassing, I know you didn’t just ask for the sake of asking. Is there something going on, sweetheart?”

“Hm, nothing you need to worry about.” Your tone says the opposite as you suddenly pull away from his arms to busy your hands spreading the throw pillows on your couch evenly apart.

“Thought this is what you wanted. To talk.”

“This is not your problem, Jack.”

“That’s where you draw the line? Just cause it’s not my problem doesn’t mean I can’t help. I can see you’re scared, so—please, make it my problem.”

He watches you sigh with heaviness as you put the pillow in your hands down before grabbing your phone from the table.

After unlocking it and finding the text chain between you and your ex, you hand the phone to Jack so he can see for himself.

“Holy shit.”

He scrolls, dumbfounded, through a one-sided alarming thread of messages that are made of threats, degrading insults, intimidation, blackmail… You hardly ever reply unless he threatens you to do so.

“Have you tried blocking him?”

“Of course, I've tried. He shows up here if I do so. He likes to know that I read all the shit he sends. He gets off on it. He showed up today at work and I had to give him money so he'd go.”

This is more serious than he initially thought. He has to pull his eyes away from the screen after skimming roughly through over 50 messages that seem to keep going.

“You shouldn't have put this off. You could've easily got a restraining order with half of these.”

“I mean, he's never hurt me. At least there's that. He's like one of those dogs. He's all bark.”

“Yet.” Jack remarks. “He hasn't hurt you yet. What's this thing about a picture?”

“What do you think? I was stupid. I let him take pictures of me, you know… intimate pictures. Now he's saying he's going to put them all over town, so everyone can see what a slut I am.”

“You're not stupid, sweetheart. C'mere. Let's sit.” His hand points at the couch where you sit.

He lowers his backside on top of the coffee table in front of you.

“Keep these.” He puts your phone between your palms. “Tomorrow, we'll go to the station and you'll show them. I'll check with the inn, see if I can have access to the security feed.”

“Okay.”

“This is what you wanna do, right?”

You waver. “I suppose so. I just wish he'd leave me alone.”

“You gave him money. He's not going to leave you alone anytime soon now that he knows he can twist your arm like that.”

“I'm sorry I made it your problem.”

“Don't apologize. I asked you to.”

“So, what now?”

He tiredly shrugs his shoulders. “Guess we just wait and see what happens tomorrow.”

“Will you go in with me?”

“Yeah, don't worry. You're not doing this alone.” He gently cradles your hands in his palms, drawing soothing circles on your skin with his thumbs.

This is progress. It's scary, but it's a step in the right direction. He can't stay stuck red living the same day as in Groundhog Day. That's not living. This is it, holding you in his hands seems so simple yet so incredible.

Jack shifts in his seat on the table to sit next to you on the couch. His arms hold you closely as you search in his mouth something to put you at ease. He can't tell by the way your lip trembles that you're just as terrified. Perhaps not of this, you and him, but from that other situation you find yourself in. He provides a much necessary relief in the way his tongue gently massages yours. One of his hands is drawn under the hem of your top to find the warmth of your skin. It makes your hair stick out when the feather-light gliding of his fingers moves across the length of your backbone.

— credits: beautiful divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[vi0lentquiche]

I vaguely remember reading this and watching the interview with Bryan and Hugh at some point but can’t find any traces of it here, so to commemorate the heroic sacrifices of everyone working on Season 1 and to preserve the McDonalds bit especially:

For the first season, it was interesting, 'cause I wrote the pilot and it was so closely tuned to what Thomas Harris had written, and there was so much from the books that was going into it. Then I think we had four or five scripts, and then I saw the pilot, and I saw the work that Hugh and Mads were doing, and I saw the work that David Slade was doing, and I looked at those four or five scripts that we had written, and I said that they weren't good enough, and I threw them out. And then we started over. I think we shut down for two weeks between the pilot and the rest of the show. So, after seeing the pilot and going, 'This is actually really good, and this cast is phenomenal and they deserve better material,' [we changed our approach] because the four or five scripts that we had done were very procedural, and very sort of strange.

One of the episodes was about a mass shooting in a McDonald's, and we were trying to make this commentary on fast food culture and gun culture. Now, looking back on that, I'm like, 'What the fuck were we thinking?' 'cause there's no way to skin that and not be offensive to somebody. Not that I care about offending people, but it just was sort of inelegant and cheap and not necessarily elevating the genre. I feel a deep responsibility to try to elevate the genre of whatever I'm doing. So we tossed all of those scripts out, and then it was a scramble for the rest of the season.

And it was really hard on Mads because English is his second language, and a lot of the shit that Hannibal is saying are words that I have to look up, to go like, 'Is that right? Is that a word?' So it was really difficult for him. The first season was insane, it was very depressing, and it felt very much like I was in Will Graham's head a little too far. And I remember there was one time when Hugh and Claire [Danes, Dancy's wife] and I were walking around a park and it was just nice to be with people who weren't expecting something from me that I knew I couldn't give them. To just have general support and go, like I said, when Hugh and I had our first dinner, I was like, 'Oh, this is gonna be my friend. This isn't just a working relationship, this is somebody whose company that I adore.' So those moments kind of got me through the complexities and the real hardships of season one. And then after surviving something you go, like, 'Oh, I can survive.'

bonus:

Truthfully, in the chaos that we experienced and that Bryan was kind of in the frontline of, in retrospect it didn't compromise for me the ability to submerge ourselves in it. I honestly don't know why that should be, except for the fact that... he, and we all, felt that responsibility, right? Not even to anybody else, just to ourselves, right?" Fuller finished Dancy's thought for him: "As artists."

[aleki-lives-here]

I'm making my way through System Collapse audiobook, and it's much easier both the second time around and than reading. This whole thing still feels too real too much, which makes me kinda passionately hate the book but in a way that I know isn't really hatred. I'm just experiencing a lot of emotions, okay. Listening to them create art, tell a story to make people see things from a new perspective is doing something to me.

I was ten when I decided I wanted to tell stories. I was thirteen when I figured out what kind of stories I wanted to tell, and yes the stories I wrote back then were kinda shitty but I reread half of those recently, at fourteen I already had the same kind of vibe that still appear in everything I ever created afterwards: shit happens, and people do mistakes, and it all just sucks, and you keep living, keep trying, keep holding on to hope.

I was a fucking teen and I knew I wanted to tell stories that would take the darkest most tragic situation and say: there's still kindness there. There's still hope. There's still future. I don't like whump or angst or anything just because I like to torture characters (tho I do, like to torture characters), but because shit sucks. shit sucks, and we keep living, and we keep finding joy in it all, and I want, always wanted, to have someone tell me -- to be the one to tell this to people, that yes. It sucks. It hurts. It's awful, and I see you, and I see the hopelessness, and it isn't hopeless anyway. It's all encompassing now and it's gonna change. If just one person read what I wrote and felt a little better, a little more seen, a little more hopeful, a little kinder -- that was all I wanted to achieve with my writing.

And the thing is: I feel like such a fucking failure.

Like okay. Objectively, rationally speaking, I'm twenty... right, twenty two as of now, which is young, but also it's fucking twenty two and it's longer than I expected myself to be alive, and it feels like I haven't done nothing. It feels like I'm never going to be able to do anything. It feels like it's ridiculous of me to even hope that I could do anything, especially with writing. Achieve something with my stories? Make someone think about new things? Make someone feel better? It's a ridiculous idea to aim for. That's what other people do, somehow, not me. The best I can settle is entertaining myself by torturing characters, which isn't gonna help anyone but hey if it entertains someone for five minutes it has to be worth something. It fucking has to be, I so honestly don't know why the hell I'm still alive, but it has to be worth something otherwise it's too depressing to consider.

But anyway. Then, there's System Collapse. There's this whole series, honestly, with the fairly background exploration of what media and art can mean to people, but here it's loud and impossible to ignore in the front of the narrative, and it resonates with me in ways I can't be comfortable with. It somehow fucking hurts to think about. Too many emotions and thoughts and just ugh. I'm not gonna be normal about this book any time soon, am I.

[arcane-ish]

I have my issues with season 2 and how Vi's story went is a huge part of it (so much I wrote an entire meta just about how bad Act 3 was for her). But I find his answer fairly understandable.

"this is a story of 2 sisters"

Just because Vi wasn't the lead anymore doesn't mean the wasn't about the sisters. You can just as much read it "season 1 was the story from Vi's point of view and season 2 is it from Jinx's pov". I would read season 2 as being very much about Jinx wrestling with her relatioship with Vi and making a decision about it.

Like it’s your fucking JOB to service and write these characters to the best of your ability

That is just an odd complaint to me. Starting with: how do you know that that isn't the best of ability? Considering that he had never run a tv show before?

And I don't see how that somehow includes the mandate to never be allowed to change main characters or tell more than one story? He's allowed to love multiple characters and tell multiple stories.

If he just genuinely happens to be passionate about multiple characters why wouldn't he try to bring it all into a tv show. Especially if you read some of his other statements, he is deeply commited to the idea of doing the League of Legends experience justice where there are over 100 "main characters" and every fan group of an individual character would love to see "their" main as a lead.

It's just a normal League thing to me that you have a handful of "mains" who you all love (the way League is structured as a game usually forces you to play more than one character) and that's kind of how he reads to me.

To be honest, I genuinely blame Amanda here at least as much as him if not more. Amanda is the one who has genuine tv experience and who advertises herself as the big ViCait champion and she should have been aware that Vi not having a true status within season 2 and particularly in the finale also slightly dulls Vi and Cait as a couple. (my take: if the show was going to remove us from Vi's shoes compared to what we had in season 1, then she at least needed some wins to compensate)

IMO it is possible the gracefully go from lead character to supporting character. The problem is that even as a supporting character you need at least a an arc or a clear plan or a payoff.

You can have good and decent and appealing stories despite being a supporting character (even though the Mel fans will disagree, I think Mel is an example, as is Ekko, we can debate whether Jayce was supporting or lead. Heck even clear supporting characters like Heimerdinger or Isha whose job it was to go towards their own heroic sacrifice still had a clear progression)

I love her as a character outside of her relationship with Jinx and Caitlyn, however we didn’t get to see that this season.

I don't think the problem was that we didn't see her outside of her relationship with Jinx or Caitlyn. It's that the writers 1.) weren't really able to tie it all together as a whole. 2.) that Vi lacked agency in her relationships with Jinx and Caitlyn in many ways.

(I mean did we really see that much more of "Vi in relationships outside of Jinx and Caitlyn in season 1?" I guess you can say she Mylo/Claggor and Ekko? But in the end she was deeply defined by her relationship with Jinx in season 1 as well as her blooming relationship with Caitlyn. And we see many examples of other characters within the show who can pull off a satisfying arc despite a much smaller set of important character relationships than Vi had in season 2)

I just wanna ask him then why make vi main character!?

I can't read his mind but my assumption would be because he likes her too (as one of many) AND presumably he thought she would be a really good character to initially introduce us to the world?

I'm not saying that he doesn't have many flawed approached (I have ranted extensively at what I perceive to be as the "vignette" structure of season 2). But I can totally see why one might for example really love Jinx as a character, but think she isn't the best character to start the story with or to spend the entire season in her point of view.

Season 1 played A LOT with the idea of perception and then underminding it. And similarly they might have seen it as a cool approach to first see Jinx more through the perceptions of others and then switch towards telling her point of view.

(for what it's worth, Jinx interacting less with Vi in the last act to me feels like a consistent choice IF you read season 2 as a story from Jinx's point of view AND that it's heavily about her decision to split from Vi/to let Vi go. Within Jinx's stoy she actually still interacts quite a bit with Vi, I'd argue (it's more a problem that within the finale battle the Caitlyn versus Ambessa stuff gets a ton of room and basically doesn't tie back at all with either Vi or Jinx))

Christian has said a lot of things that makes me want to tear my hair out with how stupid I think it is. But imo this (in essence "well we love multiple characters and we wanted to tell those stories too") is imo a very human and relatable answer especially if you combine it with his other answers about how he and supposedly many other creatives were very desperate to move on after 2 seasons (actual quote: " Even key talent that works on the show that, simply put, is getting tired cranking away at this incredibly long season and project over multiple years. Don't forget that at the end of the day, this is just a collective of human beings, of people.").

(compared to his braggy "I'm proud of our season for pulling off so many varying things ... that nobody asked us to pull off" [=my paraphrasing] statement for example)

Vi season 2

Saying this about Vi, considering the fact that fundamentally the very basis of the show is about the relationship between her and Jinx is INSANE. The description for the show literally tells the audience it’s a story about two sisters and because the writers grew uninterested with one of them, they sidelined her.

I’m happy she got her happy ending, and i do believe that her writing remained consistent, my biggest issue with Vi this season was that she did feel sidelined, THAT was very obvious. I love her as a character outside of her relationship with Jinx and Caitlyn, however we didn’t get to see that this season.

Regardless if the ending stayed the same, Jinx and Vi barely interacting in the last act felt off. It’s really disappointing to see that one of the shows main and most important characters get sidelined in favour of others

anyway yeah there’s my rant bc seeing this shit on twitter has been pissing me off

[thetarttfuldickhead]

From the AFC Richmond Twitter account.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[blazingblorbos]

   Honkai Impact 3rd is a love letter of a game

  In its creation, and throughout its conception, the story that it sought to tell is one filled, so completely, with the concept of love and thanks.

  It's a medium of appreciation. The story thanks everyone and everything that it comes into contact with.  Its creators, developers, player-base, and characters.

   I think the story is perfect, not necessarily because it's masterfully well-written, or because it's groundbreaking in its approach, but because it served its purpose so well.  The pride and joy of Honkai as a game, is the way its community feels so united in its experience with the story.

   Every time I think about it, I feel like I just know that these developers care so much about their game. About their characters, their story, and the world they've created. And they never fail to try and let the playerbase know this.

   Recently - especially - they've dedicated the last couple shorts to the collective community. Uniting us in their message "Fight for all that's beautiful in the world"; and their sincere dream: "May all the beauty be blessed"

It's been through its ups and downs, but personally I think that only contributes to its sincerity. I've seen and heard so many beautiful stories about the way this game has helped others. How other players feel so deeply connected to it, because something about it - the narrative, the characters, the music, etc - just resonated within them. And it really is the case for the majority of us.

I haven't had experiences with any other piece of media that loves its community so much.... Whose community seems so deeply connected, related, and intertwined through their shared - HIGHLY EMOTIONAL - experience with the game.

   And I feel so at home here, despite not really directly interacting with others. 'Cause I'll browse posts made by other people- other players, about how excited they are for the next version, or how scared they are to watch the new short.  How loudly they sobbed over the lyrics of the latest song, how much they've saved for that one character...

      This game, this story, has left such an impact on us all. It's the reason we're still here,  it's the reason we stayed. Some people quit after the first hour of playing, and it's understandable because the beginning of the game is far from amazing.   But not us. We kept going - for one reason or another - and eventually settled in and stayed for so many more reasons.

And now that Part 1 is over, Graduation Trip managed to tie together everything about this ~7 year old journey into one tender 7 minute piece of masterful emotional expression.

 It's a little hard to say goodbye, but it doesn't hurt anymore.  I cried because I'm happy, and I'll look back at the story that once was with fondness.

   It is the culmination of everything we've been through - all of us.  From creators to veterans to new players. They're thankful for all of it, and this short is the epitome of their gratitude. It's their love letter to the story we all made.

   It's a love letter to her.  To her who inspired them, and inspired us.  A love letter to us. To us who inspired her and them.  The devs created this story. The story reached us, affected us, and as a result we - the playerbase, who game developers naturally depend on - managed to affect the story in return.

Thank you

[longagoitwastuesday]

I keep thinking of that reply in my Odysseus/Agamemnon post about how I regard differently Odysseus' and Agamemnon's actions, while acknowledging that at times Agamemnon is written as a sweet man and Odysseus is always straight up shitty, and how it was taken as some sort of defense for Agamemnon and as a form of pointing out the double standard; and that wasn't at all what the post was about for me, even though I can see where they were coming from. To be honest, given I didn't imagine it would spread anywhere other than my own blog, I didn't explain myself very well (or at all).

The fact is that when I talked about Odysseus not caring about hurting someone else's child to start and end a war I was indeed comparing his actions to Agamemnon's, but my words about supporting Odysseus' wrongs and cheering him in his terrible actions, while in a joking tone, weren't entirely a joke. I do think that Odysseus does some very shitty acts, and some quite terrible ones depending on the sources. That's a fact, that he does is at the core of his characterisation and it's what makes him so much fun; but not even when he is at his most cruel does he harm his family, his own son. Agamemnon, while sweet and loving at times in some texts, at his worst is willing to sacrifice Iphigenia. When readers regard with more sympathy Odysseus over Agamemnon despite both being responsible for children dying, I don't think there's a double standard in this aspect at all considering it's never his own kid Odysseus harms. And that's the key, I think.

Odysseus and Agamemnon have very different priorities, a very different view on loyalty and duty. It could be said that Agamemnon acts out of selfishness, but it could also be read in a kinder light, saying that Agamemnon is ruled by the gods first, and by his role as head of the achaeans; Agamemnon is not entirely himself. In opposition we see Odysseus acting perhaps mainly for himself and his own family and men; yes, he is a king, but he has not the role Agamemnon has. As a consequence, Agamemnon submits his family's wellbeing to the war, to the gods, while Odysseus stops the plow before hurting Telemachus but is (depending on the source) the cause of Iphigenia's sacrifice and Astyanax's death.

Both Odysseus and Agamemnon have reasons to support their actions, and both can be sympathised with; it's fiction after all. When it comes to fiction, at the end of the day which character a reader is drawn to or sympathises with is mainly an issue of personal taste, but I suppose it also implies a certain level of one's own views or preferences on morals, what makes us find certain actions more justifiable, or tasteful (perhaps that's a more accurate word), than others. Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter, no matter how sympathetic or understandable the reason, generally sits worse on people than Odysseus doing the same with someone else's kids, because they're someone else's. This different emotional reaction they provoke has place not just metanarratively, but also inside the very story; it is narratively significant, given it determines how their arrival home plays out, how their wives react to them, and thus their futures. Ultimately it determines whether they live or die.

I think both terrible acts go in line wonderfully with each characterisation, showcasing the role they hold in their world, what they value, what they care for, what they're willing to sacrifice for themselves and the others, how much of their own they're willing to give and bend. While looking at the wider picture it could perhaps be drawn that Agamemnon is the better person out of the two, but Odysseus' selfish actions are perhaps easier to empathise with, especially from a modern viewpoint. Odysseus is treacherous and prone to betrayal, but not against his own; Agamemnon follows the rules of the gods. How fitting in that context that Odysseus doesn't die at the end of his story, that he cheats the death heroes so often are fated to, almost as if cheating the narrative itself, bending the rules of the world he is ascribed to; how fitting in the context of those texts that point towards Sisyphus being his father. But that's another topic, and I've already talked a lot.

[woolandcoffee]

Sigh.

[kanene-yaaay]

OMGGG ik this is late but I'm so glad u got into med school !! Congrats :D

Not gonna lie, I think it will take like... six more months until I *fully* realize and accept that I got in aydwtcwvwvgwfw thank you very much for such lovely message. I am so glad I could share those awesome news here!

[elletromil]

Gotta love rejecting a request going 'i can't do y-thing as long as there is x' and the person going 'i don't understand why you are talking about x! I want you to do y!'

My friend, there is an order to how things have to be done. If x-thing hasn't been done, no matter how much you froth at the mouth at me to do y-thing? You're shit out of luck :)

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)