#i find it hilarious and horrific

[jessenitrogen]

EUUUAGGHHWG (earthspark spoilers)

I HOPE PPL WHO HAVENT SEEN THE REST OF EARTHSPARK HAVE THE EARTHSPARK SPOILER TAG BLOCKED I HOPE TO GOD THEY DO

FROM THE WORMS WE CAME FROM TO WORMS WE RETURN

[jacksprostate]

Treatise on why No, the doctor just giving the narrator of Fight Club (full name) his requested sleep medication or sending him to therapy would not have Fixed Him

Firstly, saying giving him the insomnia meds would’ve fixed him ignores the reason he has insomnia in the first place. He is so deeply upset by his place in society that he literally cannot sleep. Drugging him to sleep would not change that. That, of course, is the easy, quick response.

But with regard to therapy? The biggest flaw is that it ignores a central tenet of the book. Part of what tortures the narrator and drives him to invent Tyler is that his feelings about this collective, systemic issue are constantly reduced to a Just Him thing. His seatmates ask what his company is. He’s the only one upset at the office. He gets weird looks if he says the truth of what he does. People will do anything in their power to pretend he is the issue, as an individual, because it is far scarier to consider the full implications of the systemic issues implied by what he is saying. Everyone treats it as if the issue is him, so he goes insane. He does anything to get someone to say, holy shit, that’s fucked up, what you’re a part of is wrong. In an attempt to feel any sort of vague sympathy and catharsis, he goes to support groups to pretend to be dying, because then at least people don’t habitually blame him for his anguish. 

Saying therapy would fix him ignores that his problems are not individual. They are collective. It’s the reason the entire story resonates with people! Something deeply, unignorably wrong with society, where people would rather blame you for bringing it up than try and address it, because it feels impossible. I don’t blame people for this, really, because it IS scary. It’s terrifying to sit and feel like you’ve realized there’s something deeply, deeply wrong, but if you say something, people will get mad at you since it’s so baked into everything around you. Or, even if they agree, it’s easier to deal with the dissonance by pretending it’s individual.

And it’s not like that’s not the purpose therapy and medications largely serve, anyway. Getting into dangerous territory for this website, but ultimately, the reason the narrator was seeking medication was because it’s a bandaid. A very numbing bandaid. For these very large, dissonance causing problems, therapy does very little. Medications do what they always have, and distract you with numbness or side effects. It’s a false solution. He is seeking an individualized false solution because he has been browbeaten with the idea that this is an issue with him alone, when it's plainly clear it's not. 

Don't get me wrong. Obviously he has something wrong with him. But it's a product of his situation. It is a fictional exaggeration of a very real occurrence of mental illness provoked by deep unconscionable dissonance and anguish.  There is a clear correlation between what happens and his mental state and his job and how isolated he is. 

The thing is, even if he were chemically numbed, I do think he would’ve lost it regardless. Many people on meds find they don’t fix things. For reasons I’ll get into, but in this case because even if numbed or distracted, once you’ve learned about deep, far reaching corruption in society, it’s very hard to forget. Especially if, in his case, you literally serve as the acting hand of this particular variety. He’s crawling up the walls. 

So why do people say this?  Well, it's funny I guess. Maybe the first time or whatever. But also, often, they believe it, to a degree. Maybe they've just been told how effective therapy and meds are for mental illness, they believe wholeheartedly in The Disease Model of Mental Illness, maybe they themselves have engaged with either and have considered it successful. Maybe they or someone they know has been 'saved' by such treatments. 

But in all honesty.... What therapy can help with is mentality, it's how you approach problems. For issues on a smaller scale, not meaning they are easier to deal with my any degree, but ones that are not raw and direct from deep awareness of corruption; these are things that can be worked through if you get lucky and get an actually good therapist who helps build up your resiliency. But when your issue is concrete, something large and inescapable? It's useless. At best it can help you develop coping mechanisms, but there is a limit for that. There is a point where that fails. To develop the ability to handle something like this requires intense development of a comfort with ambiguity and dissonance and being isolated and a firm positioning of your purpose and values and and belief in wonder and all the other shit I ramble about. The things that the narrator lacks, which lead him to taking an ineffectual death knell anarchist self-destruction path. Therapy, where the narrator is, full of the knowledge of braces melted to seats and all the people that have to allow this to happen? It fails. 

And meds — meds are a fucking scam. We know the working mechanism of basically none of them, the serotonin receptor model was made up and paid its way into prominence. We have very little evidence they're any better than placebo, and they come with genuinely horrific side effects. Maybe you got lucky. I did, on some meds. On others? I don't remember 2018. The pharmaceutical industry is also known for rampant medical ghostwriting, and for creating 'off-label' uses for drugs that have gained too many protests in their original use, then creating a cult of use to then have 'grassroots' campaigns for it to be made a label use (ie, legitimize their ghostwritten articles with guided anecdotes). 

The DSM itself is basically a marketing segregation plot. It's an attempt to legitimize the disease model by isolating subgroups of symptoms to propose individualized treatments for subgroups that are not necessarily all that separate. But if the groups exist, you can prescribe more and different medications, no? Not to mention, if you use the disease model, you can propose that these diseases are permanent, or permanent until treated, considered more and more severe to offset and justify the horrific side effects of the medications. Do you know why male birth control doesn't really exist? Same reason. They can justify all the horrible side effects for women, because the other option is pregnancy. For men, it's nothing. 

And they're not bothering to invent new drugs without side effects. When they invent new drugs it's just because the last one got too bad of a name, or they can enter a new market. Modern drugs don't work any better than gen1 drugs. They still have horrific side effects. At best, the industry will shit out studies saying the old one was flawed (truth) so they can say this new gen will be better (lie). They're doing it with ssris right now. 

Fundamentally, the single proposed benefit of any of these drugs is that they numb you. To whatever is torturing you. It's harder to be depressed if you can't feel it, or if you just can't muster the same outrage. Of course, there is people who find that numbness to be helpful, or worth it. But often, it's stasis. For the people who have problems that can be worked on, it serves as a stopgap to not actually work on said problems. The natural outcome of the disease model is stagnation for those whose need is to develop skills and resiliency. It keeps them medicalized and dependent on the idea that they're diseased and incapable. Profitable. Stuck in the womb. 

I’ve been there. It’s easier, to wallow, and resist growth because it’s difficult and painful and unfair and cruel and you can think of five billion reasons to justify your languishing. But don’t listen to anyone who tells you you’re just permanently damaged, no matter how nicely they word it, no identity or novel pathologization, no matter how many benefits they promise, especially if they swear up and down some lovely expensive medications with little solid backing and plentiful off-label usage and side effects that’ll kill you. Some days it feels like they want us all stuck in pods, agoraphobic and addicted to the ads they feed us to isolate the markets for the drugs they’ve trained us to beg them to pump us with. Polarization making it as easy as flashing blue light for go, red like for stop, or vice versa. I worry about the kids, for fucks sake. That’s a bit dark and intense, and I apologize. But I want you (generic) to understand, there is a profit motive. Behind everything. And they do not mean well. They do not care about your mental health or your rights or your personhood or your growth. They care about how they can profit off of you.

For those struggling with immovable, society problems, like the narrator grappling with how his job fits into and is accepted by society while his rejection and horror in the face of it does not, it can work about as well as any other drug addiction. Your mileage may vary. From what I've seen, recovering from being on prozac for a long time can be worse than alcohol. They put kids on this shit. They keep campaigning for more. Off label, again. A pharmaceutical company’s favorite thing to do has to be to spread rumors of someone who knows someone who said an off label use of this drug helps with this little understood condition. Or, in the case of mental illness, questionably defined condition. And like, damn, I know I'm posting on the 'medicalization is my identity' website so no one will like all this and has probably stopped reading by now, but yall should be exposed to at least one person who doubts this stuff. Doesn't just trust it. Because I mean, that's the thing right?

It's so big. What would it mean, for this all to be true? Yeah, everyone says pharmaceutical companies are evil and predatory and ghostwriting, but to think about what that really entails. Coming back to the book, everyone knows the car lobby is huge and puts dangerous vehicles through that kill people. What does it mean if the car companies all hire people to calculate the cost of a recall and the cost of lawsuits? No one wants to think about the scale that means for people allowing it or the systems that have to be geared towards money, not safety like they say. Hell, even Chuck misses the beat and has the narrator threaten his boss with the Department of Transportation. And shit, man, if every company is doing this, you think Transportation doesn't know? That they give a fuck? You're better off mailing all the evidence to the news outlets and hoping they only character assassinate you a little bit as they release the news in a way that says it's all the fault of little workers like you, not the whole system. Something something, David McBride, any whistleblower you feel like, etc. 

So I don't blame you, if your reaction is "but but but, that can't be right, people wouldn't do it, they wouldn't allow it" or just an overwhelming feeling of dread that pushes you to deny all of this and avoid thinking about it. Just know, that's in the book. That's all the seatmates on the flights. That's all his fellow officemates. It's easier to pretend, I know.

But think about, how the response fits in with the themes of the book. The story, as a movie too. What drives the narrator’s mental breakdown? How would you handle being in his position? How would you handle being his seatmate? It’s easy to say you’d listen. But have you? Have you had any soul wrenching betrayals of how you thought society worked? How about a betrayal by the thing that promised to be the fix of the first? Can you honestly say you wouldn’t follow that gut instinct, saying follow what everyone says, that person must just be crazy, evil, rude, cruel, whatever it is that means you can set what they said aside?

For a lot of people, they can do that, I guess. Set it aside. Reaching that aforementioned state of managing to cope with the dissonance and ambiguity and despair is very hard. The narrator made the Big Realization, but he couldn’t cope. He self-destructed. Even when people don’t make the big realization consciously, they’re already self-destructing. It’s hard to escape it when it feels easier than continuing anyway. When it feels like the only option,

Would therapy fix the narrator of Fight Club? Would meds fix the narrator of Fight Club? No. He knows too much. All meds will do, by the time he’s in the psych ward, is spiritually neuter him. A silly phrase, but really. Take the wind out of his sails. 

Is he fixed if he doesn’t try to blow up town? If he just shuts up and settles in and stops costing money? If he still can’t cope with the things he’s unearthed? Do you see how this is a commentary in a commentary in a commentary?

Fight Club is an absolutely fascinating story because of this. The fact that it addresses the fallout of knowing. The isolation. The hopelessness. The spiral that results from a lack of hope. This is, I think, what resonates most with people, even if not consciously. Going insane because you’ve discovered something you wish you could unknow. It’s a classic horror story. Should our society be lovecraftian evil? I don’t think so. 

Do I think changing it will be easy? No. Lord knows a lot exists to push people who make these sorts of Realizations towards feelings of individuality and individualized solutions and denial and other distractions and coping methods. And to prevent people who make One realization from expanding on it and considering further ramifications. Fight Club itself gets into this; the isolation of men being a strict part of the role society shapes for their sex leaves them very vulnerable to death fetishes, in a sense, and generally towards self destructive violence. It helps funnel them away from substantial change and towards ineffectual change. Many things, misogyny, racism, serve to keep people isolated from one another, individualized, angry, and impossible to work with. Market segregation; god knows even appealing on those fronts has become such a classic ploy that companies do it now, the US military frames its plundering that way, etc. 

I’ve wandered a bit but ultimately, my point is this: Fight Club is a love letter to the horrors of critical thinking, and the importance of not falling into the trap of self destruction and hopelessness in the face of it. The latter is why Tyler was an anarchoterrorist instead of anything useful. The latter is why it was a death cult. It’s important to work through the horrors of critical thinking so you can do it, and stand on the other side ready to believe in each other. It’s worth it.

[our-flag-means-ducks]

He’s sixteen he’s 54 he’s your best friend he’s your worst enemy you know the scent of him rotting you don’t know his birthday, he’s your father figure he’s a single mother of four he’s the legendary brains of your operation he once got so flustered by a twink he started role playing daddy kink in the middle of a shared kitchen

[nervousmonolith]

Chat. chat is this real

[ozymandiasdirge]

one of my favorite things about oda as a writer is that even with his villians or antagonists who are doing some of the worst shit imaginable on either the side of the world government or pirates there is SOMETHING about them that inspires some kind of empathy and seeing them as a human being. except with like every one out of one thousand characters he just goes "yeah no fuck this guy he sucks soon he'll blow up and die" (spoiler alert this is about akainu my fucking behated)

[crimeronan]

oh i've started listening to nona btw, my audiobook hold went thru at the library after many weeks of waiting. i also realized part of why i'd been putting it off was because i know i'm gonna miss a lot of important details and characterization and implications and have no idea what's going on during the first read and embarrass myself, which is silly. not knowing wtf is happening is a Vital Feature of these stories. i do not need to retain every single page of a book with perfect clarity or absorb every single thematic implication as i read it in order to enjoy it. <-desperately chanting this sentence while gripping the sink staring wild-eyed into the mirror

SO the plan is to just casually let it play through once so i get the vague shape of the story & then, if i have enough time left on the hold, to do a second listen wherein my brain will Actually Pay Attention. we'll see.

[venacoeurva]

I was wondering, has Wren ever met Divayth Fyr? Or any other telvanni members like Ayron or Baladas Demnivanni?

He had to meet Fyr considering the corprus thing (much to his chagrin) and the requisite Telvanni people to become hortator and fulfill the prophecy (well, to be the unwilling imperial improvisation to mirror it), so he met Aryon and wandered around and socialized in the Telvanni territory, which wasn't pleasant given how the Telvanni Are, but didn't join the house so hasn't done the related house quests.

he killed Fyr lmao. Can you blame him.

[aingeal98]

Need a Damian who constantly bullshits horrific outlandish shit about his childhood to mess with his family vs Cass who just shrugs and accepts it as normal.

They're talking in the group chat about worst things they've ever eaten and Damian, determined to win, claims that his grandfather made him eat nails as a child to strengthen his immune system and help him learn spy skills (Complete lie but it makes Bruce and Dick get that silly look on their faces that Damian finds hilarious.)

And Cass is like oooh did he make you ingest poisons too? What one tasted the nicest? And Damian's like uhhhh yeah I'm familiar with poison eating. Obviously having the superior body I ingested them all with no trouble.

Next movie night Cass slips him popcorn that does not look right. He's looking at it suspiciously and she seems so proud.

"It's arsenic and anthrax." She whispers proudly. "Don't tell the others. They were always the tastiest to me."

And Damian can only watch in horror as she reaches into the anthrax laced popcorn, grabs a handful and shoves it in her mouth.

He goes into the notes he keeps on his new family that night and makes an update to Cass's file that just says "Freak of nature???"

Meanwhile Cass is delighted to have another family member who she thinks understands that ingesting mercury can be a fun little treat sometimes. It's for enrichment Barbara, you wouldn't get it like we do.

(Damian does not get it. At all. But he has several new questions for his grandfather about what the hell they were doing funding David Cain's experiments.)

[gothamite-rambler]

"Is he okay?" Scarecrow, of all people, asked with concern.

Scarecrow observed the third Robin crossing the fear toxin-laced streets without a mask, his expression vacant and distant. Yet, it was clear that Tim wasn't under the influence of the toxin; instead, he had mentally retreated within himself.

Scarecrow (British accent): Hey, kid you've been breathing in my fear toxin for a few minutes. I usually relish this, but you're not screaming or crying. Everything good?

Robin: My dad just died, called me to tell me he loved me... I found his bloody corpse. No time to save him. I have since accepted that life is meaningless. I have nothing to fear because what's to fear when the people you love are dead and gone... what's the point to keep going when you can give up on life?

Scarecrow (analyzing the Robin): Deep depression from the loss of a parent is typical. This sadness will pass with time. Yet, the toll it takes on his spirit may leave scars that last far longer than the grief itself.

Robin (blinking quickly): There's no passing except both of them being dead. I feel nothing. There's no joy in anything, being happy, the moments with your parents, all gone. I embrace my sadness like a long lost lover.

Scarecrow (concerned): Right, right, where's Batman? You should go with him and rest for the night.

Batman walked over to Robin and placed one of the masks on his face then turned him away to head to the car.

Batman: You can sit this one out, okay? You're going through a lot and I don't want you to go insane from the toxin.

Robin (monotone): There's toxin? I wasn't aware, my whole life is nightmare.

Robin walked away while whisper singing a jazz song his father played for him once.

Robin: My lovin' daddy left his baby again/ Said he'd come back but he forgot to say when...

Scarecrow (calling out): Hey, kid I may be clinically insane, but don't give up on life. It'll get easier.

Robin waved his hand faintly while walking through the toxin fog to find the car, but his mind would rather stay outside and inhale the toxin and if it wasn't for Batman, he'd sit on the ground and breath the fear toxin deeply into his body.

Scarecrow: You're going to give him the usual antidote, correct?

Batman (nodding): Yeah, sorry about that, he's usually... not acting like me on a bad day.

Scarecrow: Seems he lost his father in a truly horrific manner. I'm guessing, which makes it hilarious to me, but I imagine a normal sane minded person would be shell shocked after it all settled in. He masks in front of others as a defense mechanism?

Batman: Yes, he masks it well with his friends, but when he's with me... that happens and I can not handle it.

Scarecrow (crossing his arms): He's continuing to fight crime with you which is admirable. Working is better than laying around all day. Grief can hinder progress in life, so you just have to keep moving. Be there for him, in times of grief a good support team helps bring the person back to normal.

Batman: Tsk... I forget you were a professor of psychology before you went insane, uh thanks. Can I just take you down and arrest you early then?

Scarecrow: Yeah, sure mate. I saw a young man who is reeling from his father's death and while I wish him the best, that's satisfying enough for me.

Batman glared at the man and punched him unconscious.

Batman (aggravated): You had to keep being an asshole, huh? Couldn't be nice for the entire conversation? Figures.

[devonpink]

I Guess I Have Two Dads Now

It was just supposed to be a silly picture, nothing more. Why? Why did it have to change him!

But, I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

A few days ago, my younger brother and I decided to pay our dad a visit. It was so nice being together again in our childhood home, after all these years. Late one night, while our dad was out cold, we decided to throw back a few. It did start as a few, I swear, but you know men, we seldom can control ourselves. A few quickly became a lot, with our father's good stuff no less. I don't know why we thought it was so funny, but we got the biggest kick out of going through our dad's things. You could chalk it up to nostalgia, but I think it was the alcohol.

My younger brother thought it'd be hilarious to take a pic of him wearing our dad's infamous cowboy hat. I also thought it was a funny idea and took out my phone. He was simply supposed to put it on and take it off, after a short pic. However, that's not what happened.

The mere moment after I took the picture, something changed in him. It was instant, frighteningly fast. His voice abruptly dropped significantly, exactly in the middle of laughing. His voice suddenly sounded exactly like our father's, a deep masculine pitch with a hint of rugged smoker husk. Just thinking about that moment still gives me a chill. I still find it odd how he didn't react to it, or my reaction of utter confusion. He just kept on laughing, like he was in his own hysterical bubble.

Seconds later, his body started to change. First, it was his feet, shooting out and expanding. They became meaty, resembling a middle-aged man—exactly like our father's. Next, the transformation moved up his lower limbs, turning his already masculine legs into two muscle logs covered in thick hair. Once again, identical to our father. It traveled up him further, hitting his crotch. I felt like the biggest pervert, watching my little bro's cock and balls expand and grow in his shorts. I don't know if it was his new massive pecker or the new bubble butt or both but his former loose shorts were suddenly in danger of ripping. Next was his entire midsection. In a flash, his frame tripled in size, going from average-toned to muscle beast. His new biceps were the size of my head—exactly like our father's. At that point, I horrifically realized what was happening to him. He was becoming our father. I know it must have seemed obvious from the start, but I didn't realize it till then. I think I was too scared to accept it. Finally, was his head. Watching it morph and grow into an exact copy of our father's was pure horror.

The worst part though, of the entire experience, was my brother's laughing. Not once did it stop. He just kept laughing like it was the funniest thing ever, from beginning to end.

I guess I have two dads now.

[revelboo]

Invisible Monsters Pt 2

Lost Light Megatron x Reader-forgiveness

• One arm still cradling the empty cube, the other stretched out over the bar so his cheek can lay on it, you’re caught in a mix of pity for Trailbreaker and indignant anger that Swerve had just kept serving him. You hadn’t known what to make of the fact that they could get drunk or that Swerve and Whirl both find drunk Trailbreaker hilarious. Most of the time. They’d both lost interest as soon as he made the inevitable buzzed slide to depressed muttering. You’d watched the whole mortifying show with the same horrified fascination usually reserved for truly awful train wrecks.

• And at some point, Whirl had ditched you. Leaving you with Trailbreaker since there’s no way to get off the bar top Whirl had plopped you on without a broken neck. The big mech’s been silent long enough that you think he might finally be recharging, but you still keep well out of his reach.

• Neck craning to stare at Swerve on the other side of the bar, you wait for him to remember you’re still trapped. Because the only way to get to him is by climbing over Trailbreaker’s arm and hoping you don’t get swatted in his drunken stupor. No thank you.

• You’re relieved as soon as you spot Rodimus entering the bar and you lift an arm to get his attention. That grin as his optics light on you makes your stomach drop, though. You know that look. Sure enough, the red and orange mech was looking for you. Probably for something you’re not going to like. A certainty that grows with icy dread as he comes over, reaching for you.

• For a heartbeat, you tense and seriously consider taking your chances with the passed out drunk. Shoulders slumping, you allow the co-captain to scoop you up. “There you are,” he says, voice cheerful which set off all sorts of alarm bells. And then he’s walking with you trapped in his servos.

• “I’m not going to like whatever this is, am I?” You ask, clinging to his servos as his quick stride almost makes you fall. A grin is your only answer and you groan. It’s going to be bad. Definitely bad.

• As soon as you spot the massive, intimidating form of Megatron on the bridge, you wilt. Especially as Rodimus heads right for him with a cheery, “Hold this for me,” and thrusts you at the huge mech. Heart nearly stopping as Megatron instinctively reaches to catch you as you fall a foot or so into his hands with a yelp.

• Surprised to say the least, Megatron cups his hands around the tiny form that’s just been dumped into his hands. “Rodimus,” he growls, as the human glares at the younger mech.

• Backing away toward the door of the bridge so Megatron can’t try and give you back, he folds his hands behind his back. “Remember that asteroid field I piloted us through?”

• “The one I specifically said not to fly through?” Megatron asks, servos starting to curl into fists when a little hand lands on one. Startled, he glances down at you in his palm and forces himself to relax before turning his attention back on Rodimus. “Yes. I remember.”

• “Oh, good. Great,” Rodimus’s optics dart to you in Megatron’s hands. “So on a completely unrelated note, apparently one of the engines is now inoperable. Gotta go.”

• And he bails, leaving you in the former warlord’s hands. That jerk. “Seriously?” You growl, anger faltering as Megatron looks at you. And sure, he’s been gentle with you so far, but he’s huge and Whirl’s told you stories. Horrific, traumatizing stories that don’t quite mesh up with what little you’ve seen of him so far. This mech isn’t some bloodthirsty monster. He’s just a perpetually exhausted adult having to deal with nonstop stupidity. And he is tired if the way he vents with a soft growl is any indication.

• Casting about, Megatron isn’t sure what to do with you now. Set you down and let you wander the halls or just wait until Rung or someone else remembers to look for you? Anything but hold you in his palms as you look up at him with wariness, but not hate. You should despise him for what he’s done to your kind and your world. So why don’t you?

• Seeming to resign yourself to being stuck with him, you curl your legs up under you. Make yourself comfortable in his grip. “He looks up to you, you know.” The soft words surprise him as he frowns down at you in his hand before heading to his chair. It feels almost blasphemous to cradle your warm, little body and feel the steady beat of your heart against his servos. Something soft that was never meant for him.

• “Hardly,” he says, tensing as you jump lightly from his palm onto the arm of the chair to look around. “They’re all afraid of me.” Like you should be. Such a fragile thing, you shouldn’t fearlessly meet his optics. The almost sympathetic, wry twist of your smile as you spread your arms and walk to the edge of the flat surface, cuts him.

• “Everyone makes mistakes,” you tell him, head tipped up to study the empty vastness of space. Huffing softly, he sinks back in his chair. You dare sum up all the wrongness as just a mistake? He can’t understand how easily you can forgive and move on, but maybe, short lived creatures have to be able to let go because of just how short their lives are. Maybe they can’t afford to cling to old grudges. Or maybe it’s just you in particular.

Previous Next

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more. 

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

Sherlock & Co Headcanons

This list got SO LONG, SO QUICKLY, but here y'all are. Nobody asked, but I sure as hell will deliver.

Sherlock comes into John's room at night sometimes when he can't sleep. John lets him snuggle up in bed and wraps his arms around him like a koala, and - as long as John's breathing is acceptable - Sherlock falls swiftly asleep to the rise and fall of his chest. After a few times, Sherlock observes a notable decrease in John's nightmares and starts joining him in bed more often, even when he's not tired.

Mariana is one of those rare people who Microsoft Excel gets along with. She has magic powers for sure.

YOU GET A QPR, YOU GET A QPR, EVERYBODY GETS A QPR

On the topic of google docs in the latest episode, Sherlock's gmail is a random string of numbers like a default wifi password because "sholmes@gmail.com" was taken and that was obviously the next possible option. Mariana's job is infinitely harder because of this.

They have movie nights.

John tried once to get the others into football. Neither of them saw the appeal of it but they watched a game with him anyway out of some strange obligation and a hefty amount of coercion. Also there was popcorn. The joy John radiated when Swindon Town scored a goal was absolutely worth it all.

Carol Watson ships it.

CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN CANE USER JOHN

John hates using his cane, like genuinely loathes it. He's convinced he'll get looks for it or seem like he's faking. And what would Mariana and Sherlock think about him as a colleague?? One morning, though, after a particularly physically taxing case, he woke to an awful flare up. When he reluctantly swiped the cane from the corner where it had been gathering dust so far and made his way into the kitchen for breakfast, Mariana and Sherlock didn't even bat an eye - Mariana did ask if he'd like to sit down while she made him toast, which he gratefully accepted. Archie did try to gnaw on it, though. He uses the cane a bit more often, now.

John and Mariana learned BSL for Sherlock's bad days. They have intricate and heated discussions from across the room entirely in sign language when others are around and nobody can understand them. It's hilarious to watch - well, hilarious from their perspective, at least.

They fall asleep on the couch an inordinate number of times.

One time, Sherlock made John and Mariana breakfast. The two of them spent a very long time trying to figure out whether he was high, delusional, or both.

Clients are generally confused by the whole trio's relationship dynamic. Slay. That's exactly what they're going for.

Honestly I'm 100% vibing with the poly hcs going around. Consider: poly qpr???

Short king John. You agree. Reblog.

Mariana consistently steps out of the flat looking drop down gorgeous because she's awesome like that, whereas Sherlock looks like he's just been dragged out of bed (he probably has been) and John exclaims in pleasant amusement whenever he finds bits of his breakfast in his stubble. They make the perfect trio.

Sherlock is tall enough to rest his chin on top of John's head. He does it like some sort of clingy cat whenever he's tired and John's back is turned. It's adorable. He's recently been experimenting with slinking his arms around John's waist as he does so, yielding gentle chuckles that he feels rather than hears. The results have been a smashing success.

Mariana was school captain.

John drinks juice straight from the carton like a heathen (which is fine because Sherlock hates the stuff - the pulp gets stuck in his teeth - and Mariana has her own food downstairs).

Sherlock really does play the violin at horrific hours. The neighbors hate him, but it actually puts John to sleep when he's not playing the violent, jerky melodies of a tricky case.

Sherlock and Victor Trevor. I'm surprised this isn't already canon. They happened. Whatever "happened" means is irrelevant - they happened.

Sherlock really likes rainbow sour straps.

MORE TO COME PROBABLY

[eico-23]

High Batfam Headcanon

(because I just had the funniest 1am conversation)

Bruce Wayne: Smoked once because either Selina or Alfred convinced him to do so. It just made him tired and he finally got some sleep. He doesn’t understand why people enjoy it so much.

Dick Grayson: Should not be allowed to smoke. Will not stop yapping about the “epiphanies” he has. (“Guys… Guys. Cucumbers are just salty pickles.”) Won’t stop bouncing around everywhere. Makes horrible snacks and thinks they’re delicious.

Jason Todd: Gets high to rest. The kind of guy who needs CBD gummies to sleep. He’s pretty well acquainted with drugs and knows how to be safe and not be an idiot.

Tim Drake: Not allowed to smoke. Banned. Gets horrifically paranoid and thinks everyone is out to kill him. Do not pass him the blunt. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

Damian Wayne: Thinks “Don’t do drugs kids” shouldn’t apply to him because he’s “not a kid.” Sneaks into Jason’s stash and tried exactly one gummy. Passed out almost immediately. When Jason found him and realized what happened, he woke him up. Bad idea. Damian begins maniacally laughing and trying to murder everyone within a half mile radius until his high wears off.

Stephanie Brown: Super fun to get high with. Giggly and thinks everything is absolutely hilarious. However, should not be allowed to get high while Tim is high. She also thinks his paranoia is hilarious and will do whatever she can to make it worse.

Cassandra Cain: Sad and somehow quieter while high. Usually rocks side to side and seems to find the smallest things entertaining. One time she literally watched paint dry. Steph is the only person who seems to be able to make her smile while she’s high.

Alfred Pennyworth: Has one day a year where he takes a long break and gets stoned out of his mind. No one is allowed to contact him or ask for anything or even look his direction unless they are on the brink of death. He needs this break. He deserves it.

Superman: Thinks he shouldn’t smoke because he needs to be a good role model. (Smoked once and enjoyed it, then felt guilty about enjoying it and repressed those feelings ever since.)

Catwoman: You will never be able to tell that she’s high. Yes, she’s having a good time up there, but the only tell you’ll get is that her eyes are slightly red. Master at flying under the radar.

[sunshineandspencer]

Baby's first Hallowe'en

A/N: Angst? In front of my salad???!!! As if, happy endings all the way!! Bc angst makes me nauseous 😎😎😎 I’m also horrifically in a Marauders/Harry Potter phase rn because I got a 3D Knight Bus puzzle and the serotonin from completing it was the most scrumptious meal.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Wife!Reader.

Summary: It’s their daughter’s first Hallowe’en, and she’s determined to make it memorable for her and her husband - with the most perfect costume, of course.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, established relationships, slightly suggestive talk of having another baby (nothing mental)

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

“Are you going to look all pretty for daddy, baby?”

Celeste couldn’t do much more than gurgle and try to gum at the tail of her costume, something her mum let her do. 

Letting her baby find out that the tail was, in fact, furry, is easier than trying to stop her. 

A little older than one, and her sweet girl has unfortunately developed her father’s stubbornness. Paired with his looks, there’s no hope of ever saying no to her precious face. 

Her and Remus had been together since their fifth year, and married right out of Hogwarts. 

Although, their ceremony was a lot simpler than James and Lily’s wedding. The wedding night, however, is the whole reason she’s got their baby girl in her lap right now. 

Celeste, because Remus spent the entire pregnancy calling the bump starlight, and also because of his furry problem anything related to the stars and moon made them giggle. 

In their defence, they were only nineteen when Celeste was born, but it’s better than Harry. And they stand their ground on that - obviously playfully - on every play date.

With the war, they weren’t going to be doing trick or treating. Lily and Harry are still downstairs, having apparated to their little village last night. Enjoying the quiet of the countryside compared to Godric’s Hollow, which was quickly filling with new people. 

James and Remus had been called out, with Sirius, on a last minute mission the night before but swore to be back for Halloween. 

Even though they can’t celebrate properly yet, they’re still going to be having a small party between them. It had been hard, since Peter was outed as a spy, and they’d all become a bit more guarded. But they wanted to try to make their children’s first holiday memorable.

And introduce Harry and Celeste to some lemon drops. 

While Lily had managed to find a golden snitch costume for Harry, which she was sure James would love, Celeste’s outfit is perfect.

Well.. her father may not agree at first, but thanks to that sense of humour of his, he’ll get over it. 

They didn’t sell it at any wizarding costume stores, probably because it would be a little insensitive. Thankfully muggles still assume that the wizarding world is all just a big story, so they have all sorts of insulting costumes. 

And, having found the perfect outfit at whatever a Sainsbury’s is, with Lily’s help, honestly the whole outfit looked amazing. 

Celeste, her and Remus’ daughter and the pure light in their life, has been dressed up all pretty as a werewolf. Granted, her daughter has no idea why she keeps breaking out into fits of giggles. 

With a few easy charms, the ears on top of the hood and the tail were able to move with Celeste, and it’s so unbelievably cute. 

Again, might be a little on the nose considering her husband’s condition.. but also it’s just hilarious and she couldn’t pass up the opportunity for this. 

The familiar sound of apparition sounded downstairs, quickly followed by James’ laughter and muffled joy at seeing his son - probably golden and winged. She gives it three drinks before he charms the wings to fly. 

Sirius, similarly, cheers at the sight of Harry before the familiar clinking of bottles in the kitchen tells her they stopped to get drinks. 

But Remus? He gives Lily and Harry a brief wave before bounding up the stairs.

Pushing the bedroom door open with a sigh, happy to be around the comforting warmth of his family, already hearing his wife’s giggles. 

“Where are my girls?! There they—“

He stopped dead in the doorway, looking between his flushed, near-hysterical wife, and the little wolf sat on the bed gnawing at their tail. 

Taking a cursory glance out the window, he made sure it’s not actually the full moon and he just didn’t change - which is absurd. 

Finally allowing himself to laugh when the cub turned and dropped the tail. His daughter reaching and cooing something soft for his attention. Dressed as a werewolf.

Joining them on the bed, he scooped up his daughter, crushing her to his chest as his wife had to lie back against the headboard and shut her eyes to try and stop laughing. 

“Hello there starlight, what’s mummy done to you?”

Mummy, still giggling and tears in the corners of her eyes, sat up and shuffled nearer. Leaning her head on Remus’ shoulder. 

“Mummy had a brilliant idea and it worked out so well. Don’t you think she’s all cute and fluffy?”

“I do.” He pressed a kiss to his wife’s hair and then gave a soft hum, looking at their daughter as she tried to reach for the tail again. “But what’s with the purple tutu?”

“She screamed whenever I tried to take it off. Werewolves can do ballet, you know.”

Poking him in the side, she tilted her head back and pursed her lips, asking for a kiss.

How he’d only known and loved this woman from the age of fifteen he’ll never know. Sometimes he forgets that they haven’t just always been together. 

He can’t wait for the day to pass where he would’ve finally known her longer than he hasn’t. 

Pressing his love against her lips, still relishing that he loved her. And that, honestly, she loves him just as much. If the faux-silver wedding band on their hands were anything to go by. 

“I love you.”

“You’re so sappy Rem.” But the smile on her lips became so bright it became hard to kiss. So she just pecked his cheek instead. “I love you too, hairballs and all.”

Sirius, as always having the most horrific timing known to man, decided then was a good time to burst through the door. 

Holding up some firewhiskey and excitedly talking about a movie Lily wanted to show them. 

“Apparently it has a talking skeleton and it’s about Halloween and Christmas and—“

His excitability ran its course the minute he saw Celeste. Nearly doubling over and having to put the bottles down, ignoring the warning to be careful of the carpet. 

Sweeping up his Godchild and bounding down the stairs to show James and Lily, unable to stop laughing long enough to actually say anything. 

With that distraction, Remus flopped them down on the bed, pressing his face to her stomach and releasing a sigh. 

Digging his fingers into her hips as her hands slipped through his hair. 

“Can we just stay here?” His thumbs slipped her shirt up and he pressed a tired kiss to the soft of her stomach, the scar from her C-section. “Make another one?”

That caused her to laugh again, and although that kind of bounced his head about, he didn’t care. The sound of her laugh slid away the nightmares he’d been facing only hours before. 

And with a rueful hum, she pushed them upright again. Much to his immediate dislike, but he allowed himself to be moved. 

“Not tonight, I actually want to see what Lily was talking about.”

Getting up with a groan, she raised a hand for her husband to take. A soft twinkle in her eye that still set his blood racing after all this time. 

Merlin, but he loved this woman more than life itself.

“But Sirius is babysitting both Harry and Celeste on the weekend, and we’ll have the cottage all to ourselves.”

That, at least, got her husband up off the bed. Pressing a hard kiss to her lips and then dragging her downstairs. 

Jokingly whispering that he wanted tonight over with already, so he could have her all to himself. Still, though, he treasured their baby girl’s first Halloween and the first - of many - holidays that they all got to spend together as a family.

Want more?! Good!

[nalyra-dreaming]

I've seen the episode!!!

(Some comments and) SPOILERS!!!!

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Louis saying it was a betrayal and that he wants to be punished for it just when he finds happiness again via a hallucination of Lestat is so... ugh. Louis, honey, god. Also him imagining Lestat biting him - as a punishment, but he also wants it so badly, baring his neck, not trying to fight it, offering himself up there, he just wants the connection so badly. 😭 And god, Louis having Lestat call him out on his own denial. Damn. And Louis knowing he invited this Lestat as a distraction.

Also... that was definitely foreshadowing to how Louis will think the trial went.

And of course it would be a bat. Of course.™

Claudia driving them onwards, not giving one shit is just... incredible. Delainey is Claudia.

I was also right that she honed her senses and available gifts, more than Louis has his (which fits)

Daniel calling their plight the hunt for Moby Dick

Claudia is also... beautifully hopeful, and thereby almost desperately (intentionally) naive. She just wants to connect, so badly. To find more of their kind. And closes her eyes to what she sees. *deep sigh*

That "Adam and Even and God" comment was hilarious. Oh man, I cannot wait to see what the show will make of / with QotD and Memnoch etc.

Not only is Louis aware of forgotten memories now, he actively pursues them, and he has apparently read the missing pages before. And knows he has forgotten.

Claudia's diaries are unreliable, too (as predicted). Also, Louis correcting his own tale there, lol. Also: Armand‘s look and suggestion there.

Daniel and his little speech as to how he works… you go Daniel. “Here’s almost all the story“ lol

“Human affairs“

The revenants.... "the blood is bad here" *shivers* - I BET that's already setting up the "turning fails" arc with Amel, right there

God that old vampire connecting with Claudia, and then throwing herself into the fire in despair. God.

Morgan's arc was nicely condensed, the scene fittingly horrific

I live for Claudia speaking all the languages, but I noticed some of the subtitles were wrong

Whoever doubted DM happening... well. Sorry, but I AM seeing it. The looks, the smirks, the bitching.

Also "real Rashid" (lmao) - who, btw, does not wear a mask! What if the encounter with Eudoxia Marius had went differently and this is Rashid?

... someone wanting to buy a tryptich they haven't even put up for sale... *coughs* Marius? *coughs* (I mean, who else would know they have it? Or the Talamasca, maybe)

God that Dubai bedroom screams cage. And Armand controlling even the lights with his little iPad. Someone edit a blender into a screenshot of that scene.

The look Lestat gives Claudia at that last part of Louis' little speech. Devastating.

Also: the "I do I do I do I do I do"... Louis. Sweetie. I mean, I get it, but still.

Armand's comment that the boy from San Francisco is still in Daniel. Now if that is not foreshadowing.

A propos foreshadowing: Louis saying he will not choose the fire while Claudia walks the earth. *help*

"We cannot be the only good ones". Yeah... about that. -.-

Louis being so relieved that what Claudia wrote was not the truth

The. Score.

Louis pacifying Armand there with the little touches at the end. LOL (the whole setup makes me wonder if ARMAND has also forgotten some things btw). Also that little thank you kiss

The Groan. Once more seemingly when Armand is displeased, so it could be a metaphysical manifestation after all, especially since Louis seems to comment on it. (It could also be a red herring, we'll see.)

Daniel‘s “we‘ll get to you“ to Armand (lol)

Louis‘ guilty look to Lestat when he tries to pep talk Claudia 😭

EDIT: there were two very short flahback scenes with a comment to memory, which is setting up the big one later, no doubt about it, ugh

I legit teared up so often.

I have missed them all so much.

It's all I wanted, and more. Cannot wait to scream about it with everyone.

Also, last but not least: can I just say how glad I am our writers are playwrights.