#i don't. want to know how many hours i spent on this

[scented-morker]

Leaked documents

Enha’s reaction when the HYBE leaked documents talk about kicking fem!8th member out… hurt/comfort, 1k words, mentions of iland (that deserves a tw) and haters… requested by 🩵 anon

Heeseung

His heart absolutely breaks 💔

Even in Iland he'd spent countless hours encouraging you, telling you just how talented you were and how much you deserved to debut

When you'd first debuted and gotten hate for being 'out of place' in the boy group, he was in protection mode at every single schedule

Always distracting you from antis and keeping you close on stage

He reminds you just how talented you are, and probably calls Bang Sihyuk himself

"If you ever remove Yn from this group you will need to find a replacement for me as well."

He does NOT play

If you're out, so is he

You're not allowed to go anywhere by yourself for the next few weeks

"Hee I'm just going to the convenience store."

"Yeah? And I'm coming too."

If you get recognized or heckled boy will he have something to say

He's scary

Jay

He's the only one that can get you out of your room

You locked yourself away as soon as you saw the article, but he sits outside your closed door talking into the wood for twenty minutes

When you finally open it up, he's caging you in his arms

"Remember what we promised as trainees?" He asks once the two of you are laid down in your bed

You mumble and he rolls his eyes.

"What was that?"

"You said you'd always take care of me."

"Exactly. And you said you'd let me."

You bury yourself further into his chest, and he strokes a hand through your hair

"We'd never let that happen."

He sticks to his word, taking care of you extra attentively for the next few weeks

He lets you cry and rant about it as many times as you need, insisting that you aren't annoying and you're allowed to be as upset as you want

Jake

Another hugger

Swears up and down he'd kick down every door in the building if they ever tried to take you from him

"Jakey, you couldn't even break a board during our karate episode."

"Because the board wasn't trying to take my baby from me! My love for you would make me strong!"

Okay Hulk 🙄

He makes a post on Weverse that night that includes an old picture of you two together with the caption 'What would I do without you?'

He's perfectly content to stay stowed away in your room doing nothing for the next few days

And when you do have a meeting at the building, he's stuck to your side the whole time

Gives nasty looks to the CEO himself

He acts like they're going to literally rip you away from him, he's holding on to you for dear life every time you have practice

Sunghoon

He's actually shocked because you keep complaining that they made comments about how he looked

No way you're more upset about them calling him ugly than you are about them discussing possibly removing you from the group

"You need to fix your priorities, love."

"My priorities are fine, thank you very much! Sales probably would be better if I was gone, I know that's true. But calling the prettiest boy ever ugly? That's a crime."

He shuts that down REAL FAST

"Sales would not be better, because we'd be miserable without you. Our careers would suffer the minute you left this building. Don't act like you don't matter in this."

You can't even respond

This might be the most fired up he's ever been, and he's staring straight into your soul eyes and you can't help but tear up

"C'mere," he pulls you tighter against him

"It's okay to be upset. They're crazy for thinking we'd survive without you. I wouldn't make it an hour."

Sunoo

He lets you process however you need, but he refuses to listen to you say lies about his favorite person

"I don't want to drag the group down."

He stares at you like you're crazy

"Drag us down?? Sweetheart, you embarrassed us every single week on Iland."

You roll your eyes, but he's insistent

"I know you probably trauma blocked most of it out, but I remember how hard they were on you for being a girl, and yet every week you made them eat their words. You couldn't drag us down if you tried."

He runs his fingers through your hair and starts a loose braid in it, adoring the way you melt into him as he does so

There's a scream from somewhere in the dorm, followed shortly after by a crashing sound that you pay zero attention to

"Besides, I'd probably have killed one of these idiots without you."

This gets a laugh out of you, a real one, and he smiles proudly

"We're always gonna need you."

Jungwon

He's by your side the SECOND the news comes out

He doesn't make a single comment about the ugly crying you're currently doing

He just kneels on the carpet next to your bed and holds your hands with so much softness

He dips his head until you can see him, wanting to have eye contact so you can see his sincerity

"We wouldn't be enhypen without you. You’re part of us.”

He uses his thumb to wipe the tears off of your cheeks and lets you tug him closer

"Besides, what kind of leader would I be if I let them take our girl? The boys can barely survive without you when you go to shower.”

He counts it as an accomplishment when you let out an airy laugh, and he places a kiss on your forehead

“I’m not gonna let you go, that’s a promise.”

Riki

When I tell you they had to hold this boy down

Oh he’s ANGRY

Literally glaring holes into his phone when he reads it the first time

Jay wrestles him down before he can go knocking on their CEO’s door

He makes better use of his time by trapping you with his entire body the moment he sees you

“You are never allowed out of my sight. I will keep you here forever.”

You sigh, that’s the dream

“No one else gets my girl if they aren’t gonna appreciate her like they should.”

There’s no humor in his voice, and it makes your heart stutter

“You deserve to be loved so much better.”

Praises you in every single show or content you film afterward

Will straight up tell people to shut up if they say anything negative about you, media training is for the weak

[istoleyoursphenoidbone]

In Search of Kindred Spirits - Chapter 3

Hi folks, welcome back for chapter 3 of In Search of Kindred Spirits. We have one more chapter after this to go! I don't have much to say on this chapter other than here we get to see Danny's search through the zone. But have fun everyone, and as always feedback is welcome!

Prev | Next

The Ghost Zone stretched infinitely in every direction, an otherworldly expanse of swirling green mist, floating islands, and jagged portals that flickered like torn seams in reality. Rivers of shimmering ectoplasm wound their way through the void, glowing faintly as they meandered past bizarre, gravity-defying landscapes. It was a place of eerie beauty, alive with strange whispers and the occasional flicker of ghostly figures darting between dimensions. Yet its vastness was daunting—so endless that even Danny, who had spent countless hours navigating its labyrinthine reaches, often felt like a single drop in an infinite ocean.

Jason wasn’t here. At least, not in the places Danny thought he would be.

The search was proving longer and more grueling than Danny had anticipated. Six months had passed since Jason had vanished, six months of tirelessly scouring the Ghost Zone’s countless nooks and crannies. Danny had questioned every ghost he encountered, chasing cryptic hints and fragmented tales that inevitably dissolved into dead ends. He had dived headfirst into unstable portals, braved spectral storms, and crossed paths with some of the Zone's most notorious denizens—all in pursuit of a lead, a sign, anything to guide him to Jason.

The weight of his task was beginning to press down on him. The Ghost Zone was infinite, unpredictable, and dangerous. Doubt whispered insidiously in the back of his mind, asking questions he didn’t want to face: What if Jason doesn’t want to be found? What if he’s gone for good? But Danny shook those thoughts off as quickly as they came.

He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up. Jason had been there for him when no one else had, standing by his side in the moments that mattered most. Danny had made a promise—not just to Jason, but to himself. No matter how vast or treacherous the Ghost Zone might be, he wouldn’t let him down.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first lead had come from Skulker, the self-proclaimed ghost hunter who seemed to delight in crossing paths with Danny. This time, he was lurking near a swirling vortex of green energy that looked suspiciously like a trap.

“Looking for someone, whelp?” Skulker had asked, his tone laced with mocking amusement.

Danny dodged the green net Skulker flung at him with practiced ease, his glare sharp. “None of your business, tin can.”

Skulker grinned, his predatory smile revealing rows of jagged teeth. “Oh, but it is my business. Word travels fast in the Zone, Phantom. I hear you’ve been scouring, chasing after a wayward soul. Someone… human?”

The accusation made Danny freeze mid-air. He masked his surprise with a glare. “What do you know?”

Skulker’s glowing eyes narrowed, glinting with a mix of menace and amusement. “More than you, it seems,” he drawled. “But let me offer a morsel of advice: tread carefully. The Ghost Zone holds many secrets, and not all who perish find their way here. Some fates…” His voice dipped lower, almost reverent, “are stranger than even you can imagine.”

Danny’s stomach tightened. The weight of Skulker’s words settled heavily in his chest, but before he could press for more, Skulker vanished into the swirling void, leaving Danny alone with his thoughts and a growing sense of unease.

It was the first time Danny truly questioned the foundation of his search. What if Jason wasn’t in the Ghost Zone at all? The possibility hit him like a punch to the gut. Every lead he had followed, every corner of the Zone he had searched, might have been for nothing. And worse—what if Skulker was right? What if Jason’s fate was something Danny couldn’t even begin to understand? -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Months slipped by, and Danny’s search grew increasingly desperate. He ventured deeper into the Ghost Zone, navigating its most treacherous and mysterious regions—places he had once considered nothing more than ghostly folklore. He braved the Valley of the Lost, a desolate expanse where wandering souls cried out in anguish for memories that had long faded, their voices hauntingly hollow. He ventured into the Obsidian Flats, a strange void where time and space twisted in impossible ways, folding in on themselves like a cruel labyrinth.

Everywhere he went, Danny asked the same question: “Have you seen a soul named Jason Todd?”

The responses were as maddening as they were unhelpful. Some ghosts sneered at him, their laughter echoing mockingly through the void. Others offered cryptic riddles that left Danny more frustrated than before.

“You search for one who is neither living nor dead,” Nocturn, the ghost of dreams and shadows, told him one night. His voice was smooth and ominous, like silk sliding over a blade. “Much like yourself, but also not. Such souls are rare, Phantom. If he is not here, then perhaps he lingers… somewhere in between.”

Danny’s frustration bubbled over. “In between what?” he demanded, his voice cracking with urgency.

Nocturn smiled faintly, the gleam of his teeth visible even in the dim light of the Zone. “That is the question, isn’t it?” he mused before vanishing into a swirl of dark mist, leaving Danny alone with his thoughts.

Nocturn’s words gnawed at Danny. What did “in between” even mean? The Ghost Zone was supposed to be the final destination for souls caught between life and death. If Jason wasn’t here, then where was he? And worse—what if Danny’s search was destined to lead him nowhere? -------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t until Danny visited Clockwork that he finally got some clarity—though, as with most things involving the Master of Time, the answers came wrapped in riddles.

Clockwork floated serenely in the center of his lair, his current form that of an aged man draped in flowing robes. The constant ticking and whirring of countless clocks filled the air, a reminder of time’s relentless march. Danny stood before him, fists clenched tightly at his sides, his desperation barely contained.

“Clockwork, I need your help,” Danny said, his voice steady but pleading. “I’m looking for someone. His name is Jason Todd.”

Clockwork’s glowing red eyes shifted toward him, calm and unblinking. “Ah, Jason Todd,” he said, his tone almost wistful. “The boy who died but did not pass on. I wondered when you would finally come to me.”

Danny’s breath hitched. “So… he’s alive?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Clockwork replied, gesturing to a swirling portal that appeared beside him. Within its depths, images began to form—flashes of Jason’s life. Danny saw Jason’s brutal death at the hands of the Joker, the quiet stillness of his grave, and then the violent churn of a bubbling green pit. The scene shifted to Jason clawing his way out, his body trembling, his eyes wild and filled with rage.

“What is this?” Danny whispered, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic ticking.

“The Lazarus Pit,” Clockwork explained, his voice carrying the weight of ages. “A pool of ancient, corrupted ectoplasmic energy capable of dragging souls back from the brink of death. But its gifts are not without consequence.”

Danny watched, his stomach twisting, as the portal revealed Jason’s transformation. Gone was the boy Danny had known, replaced by someone colder, angrier—haunted.

“He’s alive,” Danny murmured, a mix of relief and dread coursing through him. “But… why hasn’t he come back? Why didn’t he tell anyone?”

Clockwork’s expression remained impassive, though there was a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—in his gaze. “Because the Pit does not give without taking. It warps the soul, twists it into something new. Jason Todd may walk among the living, but he is not the same as he once was.”

“No,” Danny said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s not true. Jason is still… Jason. I know he is.”

Clockwork’s voice softened, though his tone remained measured. “Perhaps. But the boy you seek is no longer in the Ghost Zone. He resides in the world of the living now, much like you—a soul caught between what was and what is.”

Danny’s mind raced. If Jason was alive, then there was still hope. Yet the images of the Lazarus Pit and Jason’s pained expression lingered, filling Danny with unease. Somewhere out there, Jason was waiting to be found—but he might not be the same person Danny remembered.

The questions swirled in Danny’s mind, heavier than the Ghost Zone’s silence. But one thing was clear: his search wasn’t over. Not yet. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny returned to the human world a changed person. He’d grown stronger, his powers sharper and more refined. But he’d also grown more determined. He couldn’t let Jason’s memory—or the hope that he might still be out there—fade into the background. So Danny turned back to the letters, remembering the city that began it all.

“Gotham,” Danny murmured, holding the letter in his hands. The city that had taken Jason from him. The city that might still hold the answers he was looking for. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moving to Gotham felt like stepping back in time. The city was just as grimy, chaotic, and dangerous as Danny remembered. But this time, he wasn’t a scared little kid clinging to Jason for protection.

This time, he was Phantom.

Danny took to patrolling the streets at night, his white hair and glowing green eyes making him a ghostly blur in the shadows. Gotham’s criminals were ruthless, but so was he. Phantom became a whispered legend among the city’s underworld—a vigilante who moved like a ghost and struck like a storm.

But for all his heroics, Danny’s true mission remained the same: find Jason Todd. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On one particular night after months in the city, as Danny hovered above Gotham’s rooftops, scanning the streets below, he spotted something unusual. A group of armed men was unloading crates from a truck, their movements tense and hurried.

Danny narrowed his eyes. Smugglers, probably. He swooped down, his ectoblasts glowing in his hands.

“Alright, boys,” he called, his voice echoing eerily. “Drop the weapons, or I’ll make you drop them myself.”

The men froze, their eyes widening at the sight of him.

“What the hell—?” one of them started, but before he could finish, a gunshot rang out.

Danny dodged effortlessly, phasing through the bullet like it was nothing. He smirked. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Before he could strike, a second figure appeared, dropping into the fray like a shadow.

Danny’s breath caught.

The newcomer was clad in black and red, a helmet obscuring his face. He moved with brutal efficiency, taking down the smugglers one by one with a combination of gunfire and hand-to-hand combat.

Danny watched, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t need to see the man’s face to know who it was.

“Jason,” he whispered.

The Red Hood turned, his posture stiffening as he noticed Danny hovering above him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.

Danny felt a lump form in his throat. After three long years, he’d finally found him.

“Jason,” he said again, louder this time.

The Red Hood tilted his head, his voice cold and unfamiliar. “Who’s asking?”

[screamingcrows]

@mewnbuns it's back! It's revised! There's a little more >:3

Contents: conductor!sunday x dancer!reader, fluff, established relationship, 1.3k

"Sunday?" Keeping a note of amusement out of your voice was impossible, a small smile on your lips despite the sorrowful tones emanating from the piano.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to have heard you, nor noticed that your movements had halted. A perfect mirror of your own poise, Sunday's back was straight and his shoulders relaxed- a far cry from the tension that had permeated his being when you first met.

Oh well, there was no point in interrupting him just yet.

Instead, you took the time to adjust both your chiffon skirt and the elastics holding your pointe shoes in place. The ribbons would have to be sewn on before tonight, but that was a minor problem compared to the one baring his soul in the corner.

No matter how many times you saw it, the occasional flutter of his wings when he lost himself to the music never failed to make your heart leap.

His name left your lips once more, tentative and soft, still unwilling to pry him from whatever tranquility he had attained.

The choreography had been burned into your mind years ago, having spent hours watching the older girls rehearse, trained as part of the corps de ballet, watched as a common member of the audience. So much time in preparation of portraying Odette's terrible betrayal and death.

You refused to count the amount of times Sunday had been put through evaluating if "my expression looks pained enough".

Your shins were tired from the constant pointework, only making your guilt at having coerced Sunday into rehearsing with you, knowing there was realistically nothing left to do but hope the stage lights and self imposed pressure wouldn't stun you.

This time, it was Sunday's voice that had been tinged with amusement, "Getting nervous again?"

He even had the audacity to smile, making you huff a little as you rolled your sore ankles, "No.. But you're playing too fast."

The way he straightened a little further, eyes widening almost imperceptibly should be criminal for how your throat tightened.

"Ah, apologies," he cleared his throat, looking off to the side as you approached, "I must've gotten carried away."

His hands flexed, a small sigh escaping him as you took them into your own, running a thumb across the back of his hand while sitting down beside him.

"It's fine, I suppose your inability to keep your eyes open while playing is the reason you became a conductor instead," you couldn't help but chuckle, hearing the rustle of feathers as he no doubt tried to hide his face.

"You know that's not the case..."

"Am I really such a horrid Odette that you'd rather not look?" You'd barely gotten out the quip before Sunday's head had turned, nearly giving you a mouth full of feathers in the process.

"Don't," his whisper sounded almost pained, retracting a hand to cup your cheek instead, "I hate to hear you speak that way. We can cover the mirrors if they bother you-"

"I was joking, Sunday," nimble fingers twitched against your cheek, embarrassment and relief equally clear in the sigh that left him. "It's not the mirrors bothering me."

It stung to admit even though he already knew, your soul always bared to that golden gaze.

"If the maître de ballet believes you're ready to portray Odile, then you must trust in that judgement and in yourself," you leaned into his touch, relishing the brief pause as he kissed your eyelids, "remember how you declared at our first lesson that you would be the swan princess when you grew up? There's no way around doing both roles."

You couldn't help but snort in amusement at the memory, both your own childish bravado and- "Don't forget that I wanted you there with me as my prince.."

Both of you fell silent, the wound still too fresh. It might never heal entirely.

Sunday slipped an arm around your waist, the usual disdain for dirtying himself tossed aside (almost, you did catch a small hiss when he made contact with your sweaty back). Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile a little, carefully dodging his wing to rest upon his shoulder.

"With how easy you made the pas the quatre look last year, Odile should be no challenge. Especially with how much you've improved."

Knowing it was a childish protest, you couldn't help the little grumble that escaped. "Four little swans don't have to do thirty-two fouettés..."

Sunday turned to brush his lips against the shell of your ear, "they don't get any princes either."

A small laugh escaped you as you stood, rolling your shoulders in tandem with his, so used to being in tune.

"From the top then."

The hard leather soles of your pointe shoes clacked against the vinyl floors as you quickly got into position, flicking your wrists with a grin, "Keep your eyes on me this time."

A smile twitched at the corners of his lips, "I wouldn't dream of looking away."

How were you supposed to get home? Hell, it didn't even feel like you'd be able to get changed. Getting your hands up to remove the headpiece had been enough of a challenge that you'd slumped back into your chair immediately after. That was ten minutes ago.

It had never really occurred to you just how much more movement soloists had in the choreography. You supposed it this was why having two casts to rotate between was essential. Aeons above, there was no way you were getting out of bed tomorrow.

Provided you actually made it home to your bed.

Despite it all, you couldn't help but close your eyes and smile, the heavy exhaustion mixed with warmth and satisfaction left in the wake of adrenaline. The faint scent of the bouquet of roses you'd received on stage still clung to the costume. A shame you had to return the flowers so they could be reused.

It wasn't until the door opened that you opened your eyes, immediately regretting not turning off the sharp lights lining the mirror.

"You'll get cold," as expected, Sunday sounded weary as well, his hands trembling slightly as he draped his suit jacket around your shoulders.

"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you waiting, I just gotta-" you gestured vaguely at yourself, "find the energy to change. Think I'll go straight home and sleep, so no need to wait."

What you hadn't expected was the way Sunday kneeled before you, worry etched onto those delicate features your mind always tried to overlay onto your dance partners. How cruel it was that his face was always so clearly visible from the stage. His eyes always on you with the same look as now.

"It was a stunning performance, I do hope you are proud of yourself." You could almost hear the unspoken 'I am' in his soothing tone.

"Yeah yeah... Nothing compared to your conducting, surely people couldn't tear their eyes from those big arm movements," the small flush that crept along his cheekbones.

Any further clever remarks died in a groan as the tight satin ribbons came undone, the shoes pulled off shortly after. Your eyes closed in bliss when Sunday's fingers rubbed at the ball our your foot, tension slowly bleeding from the muscles.

"You should've been on stage with me.."

Sunday sighed, pressing a kiss to your calf, "To be a prince fooled by someone masquerading as you?" The earnestness of those words had your fingers moving to tangle in his hair, a soft huff escaping you as he slowly moved further between your legs. "I'd rather have you here instead."

[meear]

umineko fans are the original "if you don't like it you just didn't understand it" people. I genuinely cannot think of anyone more annoying and obnoxious, except SNK fans, except not even them, because in Umineko's case that behavior is enabled by the author himself. It's crazy how a story that spent hundreds of hours discussing the value in several coexisting interpetations will have both characters and fans turning around and tell you that actually you're completely wrong for thinking a certain way

The crazy part is they don't even realise how their smug attitude about being part of R07's very special club of people who "have love" and the superior way they act about holding the true answer are EXACTLY the Erika traits they criticise in readers who don't think like them. "He spells it out but you still cannot see it? Lol" "are there still people who can't accept the literal canon answer? lmfao" "you know you're exactly the goats r07 wrote about right?" (Because r07 is a god who cannot possibly be contradicted, this is supposed to be the worst insult somehow) (these fans cannot seem to decide who the goats are an analogy for, considering they'll scramble to say they only represent the story's witch hunters as a criticism of true crime fans when you call out r07's arrogance, yet they'll smugly tell you you're just a goat when you question the story itself. Thank you, it's nice to know that Ryukishi wrote about me, but that doesn't answer the fucking question, Brian)

It's incredibly ironic. How did a story like Umineko create and encourage so many people to sanctify one "official answer" and taking any other attempt as an insult?? Like is anyone feeling how ryu07 completely fucked up at what he was trying to do?

"So I won't open the catbox and reveal what actually happened on the island." oh, that's cool, I actually really like that! I agree that ultimately the true events of that day are a pretty trivial part of the story, and it's way more interesting not to know - "anyway it's Rudolf and Kyrie and it happened exactly like so and so, and Shkanontrice did this and that".

... Okay, well I really wish that had remained a mystery forever, since the point was that any truth would've been anticlimatic, and the choice to reveal that genuinely kills a lot of what made Umineko's appeal to me, but I guess we can still have fun with EP1-4 and try several alternative theories for the sequence of events- "here's the manga explaining everything in detail and if you didn't get it have you tried maybe having some more love? It would be sooo clear if you had love lmfao. you literally cannot comprehend my work unless you have"

... I really wish that guy would stop making assumptions about the inner mind of complete strangers who read his work, but I do enjoy getting to choose an ending! it really fits in with Umineko's theme of choosing the truth for yourself and making your own path that you can be happy with, as long as you keep thinking- "the Magic ending is meant to be the true end btw. if you prefer the other one you pretty much have no heart lol, it's obviously framed like a bad ending and there's only one acceptable choice and one way ange can find happiness"

... man, I'm so bored. Why write a game like that and then make it so that some choices are better than others instead of letting people think for themselves? Why would you force an interpretation on people/Ange when I've been led to believe that the narrative was against that sort of things? You want to highlight the value in your vision of "magic", fine, but why am I the heartless bitch for disliking that perspective and even trying to see things differently?

Why would you write a whole game around the really fun concept of several tales happening at the same time and the existence of endless truths inside the same catbox only to open the catbox and tell me "NO, you need to think a certain way, and if you don't like my answer FUCK YOU"

I understand that maybe he just had a specific answer in mind but I'm sorry the way he write the ending simply does not match the vision he seemed to have in the earlier chapters.

I genuinely respect Umineko as a work, I think it's one of the most ambitious stories I've seen and there is some amazing writing in there, but if Ryukishi wanted to allow for people to keep thinking and discussing what it means, he has failed miserably and I'm not talking about confession of the golden witch, I'm talking about the way he and his minions have shut down any possible discussion under the guise of "you just don't get it" (rephrased to "you don't have love" to make it sound more enlightened) and it's soured my enjoyment of something that should've been an amazing story. What is even left to discuss here when everyone has pretty much already made up their mind?

[beesinspades]

finally finished this piece inspired by my creature vash (vashwood) fic, the monster in the ruins of ship five, which is now complete! 💜

close-up on the eepy sleepies:

[johnbly]

"Well-trained, don't you think?"

(Rufus is the official plush from Square, Darkstar is sewed out of felt by me!)

[sensationseekng]

are they lovers?

worse

[scene 3/? from what am I to you?]

[ethosnap]

Moralizing the Boatboys hate is so funny lol you guys do realize joel edits and puts together his own videos . Just say you're not into it and ignore it

[meownotgood]

haul time!!!!!!!! now to figure out where to even put everything..... aha

[tragedia]

i swear, my grandma's true calling in life would be a mourn watcher if such a thing was possible in real life.

[mokeonn]

I'm playing bg3 again and trying out the honor mode (which as it turns out, might be a bad idea if you never beat the game in general, much less beat it in tactician mode) and I have been confronted with the fact that I absolutely have dnd race favoritism and it absolutely is contributing to my need for many many bg3 saves because I constantly think "hmmm I want to try playing as a deep gnome to see if I get special dialog with Barcus Wroot, the Iron hands, and the underdark" before picking Drow for the 4th time.

[depresseddepot]

I have dreams all the time where I'm sad when I wake up but last night I dreamt that I told a joke so funny that random strangers were just straight up sending me money. my best friend's mom sent me $1000 with the caption "haha!"

[montanamp3]

tatimaxxing (something big just happened to me but i can't talk about it on this blog because ive posted face)

[shortkidenergy]

sometimes my dad will choose the absolute strangest hill to die on. today:

"one time i got jumped by 6 guys with golf clubs on the subway and it didn't really affect me why does nobody ever talk about how sometimes bad stuff happens to you and you DON'T get traumatized? >:("

????

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)