#i wanted to write more but what is there to say about this movie. it's good.

[randum-famdoms]

Something I have seen people complain about is when the story “stops” for a character to mentally think about their feelings regarding something.

I think that’s bullshit.

Like, okay. Think about it. How fast is your train of thought? Faster than your reading speed, right? Do your thoughts all happen in neat little sentences, or as more of a nebulous and/or choppy half-formed thing that *you* understand, but would sound like nonsense on a page?

Also, the character probably isn’t actually taking as long to think these things as you are reading it. “Character A feels xyz about this” isn’t taking ten seconds to actually happen, feelings coexist with action!

Now, there is a time and place for introspection. It is my personal philosophy to have the amount of introspection reflect the pacing of a scene. Fast battle scenes will be far more action-heavy and introspection-light compared to, say, a calm breakfast.

I think it balances the annoyance over pages of introspection completely breaking the flow of an intense section of the story (at least, from the perspective of the reader), while still maintaining some of that wonderful interiority (which is actually a new word for me, and I adore it).

I’m the first to admit that I am far from an experienced or professional author. I don’t have a professional editor, and my only education is via Highschool and middle school classes (and while I was always in the advanced classes, a few even college level, they were still restricted by being part of the American education system). I definitely can think of times where my grasp on the interiority slipped. Especially when it comes to describing things that wouldn’t necessarily be noticed by the pov character, simply because I as the author do know about it and think it’s funny or important.

I’d imagine a good rule of thumb regarding this would be to treat it like dialogue. People always say to read your dialogue out loud to notice any problems. Well, just act out the scene as though you are the pov character. Not necessarily irl, but in your head. (And maybe even irl if you can manage it, it can’t hurt!) What way are you facing? Would you be able to see that annoying dog? Would you focus on the person you are talking to’s face, or their hands? Is this activity one that you would space out during, or does it require laser focus?

Basically, all the things you would not think about if you imagine the scene like a movie as you are writing.

Picturing the scene as a movie can be helpful, particularly for things like imagery. But it does have its shortcomings, as op said.

It can work thematically for some stories, but when it comes to most writing that is not third person omniscient, it’s definitely something that can cause the reader to feel… distant, I guess. Less immersed.

It’s also something that, sadly, many writers will have to teach themselves and seek out to learn, because, as OP said, it’s becoming harder to find in modern works. This is doubly so do people who mainly read non-published works. I will sing the praises of fanfiction until the day that I die, and maybe even after, but the fact of the matter is that 99% of fanfiction authors are self taught. They may not know how to incorporate interiority. They may not even have ever read a work that had it.

I know a lot of people say that you should read the “classics”, and you may be thinking that could help here, but I for one am a fierce defender of not putting up requirements to be considered a writer, and that includes required reading. Yes it can help you learn skills, but so can more modern works. I learned a lot from reading Percy Jackson, and other lesser known books, and none of them are considered classics on par with The Great Gatsby or Shakespeare.

Instead, I propose this: if you want to get a better grasp on writing with interiority, try actually consciously focusing on your day to day life for a little while every day. Focus on your train of thought, on the things you focus on, on the things you see.

If you want to read something, great! Ask for recommendations, go to your local library and flip through books until you find one you think you will both enjoy and which has a good grasp of the concept.

First and foremost, however, in any writing, is to remember how we as humans actually live and interact with the world, and you’ve got a primary source of research at all times: yourself. Exclusively using other texts as sources will only ever end in a very broken game of telephone.

A lot of fiction these days reads as if—as I saw Peter Raleigh put it the other day, and as I’ve discussed it before—the author is trying to describe a video playing in their mind. Often there is little or no interiority. Scenes play out in “real time” without summary. First-person POV stories describe things the character can’t see, but a distant camera could. There’s an overemphasis on characters’ outfits and facial expressions, including my personal pet peeve: the “reaction shot round-up” in which we get a description of every character’s reaction to something as if a camera was cutting between sitcom actors.

When I talk with other creative writing professors, we all seem to agree that interiority is disappearing. Even in first-person POV stories, younger writers often skip describing their character’s hopes, dreams, fears, thoughts, memories, or reactions. This trend is hardly limited to young writers though. I was speaking to an editor yesterday who agreed interiority has largely vanished from commercial fiction, and I think you increasingly notice its absence even in works shelved as “literary fiction.” When interiority does appear on the page, it is often brief and redundant with the dialogue and action. All of this is a great shame. Interiority is perhaps the prime example of an advantage prose as a medium holds over other artforms.

fascinated by this article, "Turning Off the TV in Your Mind," about the influences of visual narratives on writing prose narratives. i def notice the two things i excerpted above in fanfic, which i guess makes even more sense as most of the fic i read is for tv and film. i will also be thinking about its discussion of time in prose - i think that's something i often struggle with and i will try to be more conscious of the differences between screen and page next time i'm writing.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆ 

Chapter 3, After party

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2 k

Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Tehee, I'm suddenly writing like I'm on fucking speed. Have another chapter while I'm not burned out from this story yet <3

Mature content under the cut.

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'Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me,' you hiss to yourself. You've gotten dried off and dressed after your very unsuccessful cold shower (that maybe ended in you masturbating anyway) and opened your phone to see if you had any notifications. The last thing you expected to see was a new video from Red Crow, aka Sylus, aka your neighbor, jacking off right after meeting you wearing the same thing shirt he had when he opened the door for you.  

Is he teasing you? No, surely not. He said he'd make a video if everyone begged for it, don't be delusional... It is a nice idea though. Him being that horny after meeting you for no more than two minutes. 

Before you can even watch the first ten seconds of the video, your doorbell rings. It scares the bejesus out of you and you almost drop your phone. Fuck, you need to calm down and you need to do it fucking now. Tara is at your door, and you need to get through a night of romcoms and facemasks before you can watch that video. 

You rush to the door and open it with a friendly smile, trying hard to hide the lust filled thoughts playing behind your eyes. There stands Tara, but she's engaged in a conversation. 'Oh, hello,' she says to you with a smile and turns to your neighbor's door, 'Kieran, Sylus, have fun. See you soon.' 

Shit, you just can't help it. You stick your head around the corner and there he stands, confidently leaned against the doorframe of his door, arms crossed, wearing a different shirt for a reason that you can very easily imagine after that video. He wears a self-satisfied smirk on his lips when he sees your head peak around the corner and nods his head to you. Your cheeks burn and you barely even notice Kieran standing there. You try to nod back at him as casually as you can but there's no saving you now. So you just head back in and wait for Tara to follow you in hopes that it won't look too strange. 

'What was that all about,' she asks, following you inside. You shrug and venture further into your apartment. 

'Do you want tea?' Tara frowns and closes the door behind her a little too loud. She seems more concerned than angry, just as she had this morning. 

'Ma’am, what is going on,' she demands, standing with her hands on her hips in the middle of the living room. If you hadn't know what kind of person she is, you might've taken it more seriously but with the way your brain is fried you fear you might not even be able to hold a normal conversation. 

'He's rude,' you blurt out, your filter completely gone. Shit, your brain really is fried. 'Anyway, what movie should we watch?' 

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'What was all that,' Kieran nearly cries out like an excited teenage girl while trying to hit Sylus’ shoulders. Not that he can. Despite his size, Sylus is incredibly fast. Blame years and years of boxing for that. 

'I have no clue what you mean,' Sylus says cold, calculated, monotone, but the slightest flinch of the corners of his lips give him away. He quickly turns to his bar cart to pour them all a drink, but then he spots the bottle of whiskey you gave him and his lips twitch up again. 

This time Luke also catches it. He turns on the couch, clutching the back and pulling himself up in a chaotic attempt to climb over and tease Sylus like there's no tomorrow. He fails miserably when Sylus looks back at him with one warning look while pouring the whiskey. 

Kieran sits down in one of the two big lazy chairs while Luke spreads out on the couch. 'Did she come over?' 

'She got me a housewarming present,' Sylus muses, trying to keep his composure as he grabs the three glasses of whiskey by the rims and walks them over to the coffee table. As soon as they're set down, Kieran and Luke shoot up to claim their glasses. 

'A housewarming present,' Luke says in a teasing tone while wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes flicking from Kieran to Sylus and back a few times. Sylus sighs and pinches his brow, still trying so damn hard to make it seem like everything is the same. 

'Whiskey,' he says to explain, 'she got me a bottle of whiskey.' 

'And you made her throat burn,' Luke teases once more, but this time even Kieran cringes. 

'And you wonder why you're single,' Kieran sighs. 

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'Come on, out with it,' Tara demands. Throughout the last two hours, you've been dancing around the topic under the guise of choosing a movie, making tea, putting facemasks on, painting each other's toenails, etcetera, but you're dead out of things to keep Tara busy. So you just give in. Well, you give in a little bit. Can't play all your cards yet. 

'He's hot okay,' you groan, 'he's fucking hot and I have a fucking dry spell.'  

That was clearly not what Tara expected you to say after you told her he was rude to you. 'Wait, back it up, I thought you were joking about you and Zayne just being friends.' 

'No, we're really just friends. We've kissed once to see if we wanted something more but neither of us felt anything.' She nods. 

'And Sylus is your type?' 

'Well,' you mumble, a blush forming on your cheeks, 'I guess. I've always liked them tall. Can't say I've ever met anyone like him before, though.' Mentally, you beat yourself up. This man is a sex God and you're sitting here, one measly wall away from him, blushing like Sylus and you are the main characters in a slow burn k-drama. 

'Fair enough,' she agrees and suggests, 'I can give him your number under the guise of telling each other about parties and stuff. Like what you did with Zayne.' 

'I don't think he's the kind of person who likes having his hand forced,' you note uncertainly, 'besides, he's a grown man. If he wants something, he can get it himself.' And shit, the way you would give it to him. They'd have to add a new level to the Richter Scale after you're done with him. Or he's done with you, whatever he prefers to say. You're not picky as long as you can feel his hands all over you. “Wait, stop, you're still with Tara. Calm your ovaries woman,” you mentally scream at yourself, hoping the blush on your cheeks still seems as innocent as it had a bit ago but you can feel your ears flush.

Tara agrees with a nod, seemingly not noticing anything: 'You're right. And he did seem to like you.' 

'That's probably just because I gave him whiskey as a housewarming gift.' 

'No, I don't think I've ever seen him look at a woman like that,' she says absentmindedly. You suddenly feel your heart pounding in your chest once more. Truly, your heart is trying to be your undoing. You're not supposed to like this person after meeting them once but at the same time, you've been watching him for ages. When you think about it, it actually feels a little bit weird. 

You've been watching him, he doesn't know you. And yet, he seems to be the more confident one.

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Previous - Next

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Taglist

@carmelves

@d0llfilth

@terriblesoup

@valkyyriia

@fvcknwww

@itsizumiiii

@ludwigsb0nker

@amywright

@frenchmess23yo

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[kisakunt]

THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

[halfwayhearted]

Heyy!! Could you please do an imagine with Pau and reader where he admires her eyes but she doesn't like them becuase they're brown.Thank you soo muchh!! Love your writing btww!!!❤️ :)

Moments — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: He loves admiring you, especially your eyes, with a fascination that you don’t quite understand.

Word Count: 425+

Disclaimer/s — Just fluff, a bit short.

A/N: IM SOOO SICK. January 8th can’t come ANY. SLOWER. Also reader doesn’t necessarily dislike her eyes or anything…

“Fine, fine. I give in! What’re you looking at, Pau?”

The boy in question straightens his posture and furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Was he seriously acting confused? “What do you mean, what am I looking at? I’m looking at you. I’ve been looking at you this whole time,” he tells you.

“I can see that. But why? There’s a whole movie going on and you’re only focused on me. This is quite literally the best part of the entire movie.”

His expression relaxes, and he smiles. “Is it?”

“Well, to me it is. Do you want me to rewind it?”

“Yeah—yes, rewind it. I’ll pay attention this time.”

“Pau, what’s got your attention so badly? Is there something on my face?” You question, your eyes widening slightly. “If there’s something on my face and you’ve done nothing but stare at me and stay completely silent, movie night is over, I fear.”

He lets out a laugh. “There’s nothing on your face. The light is just hitting you, your eyes look pretty.”

“How so?” You question, not really understanding his constant gaze. Were they brightened? Your eyes were brown. Brown was pretty, you just didn’t know why it made him look at you so often.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “They just… look really pretty. And you look beautiful, of course.”

Your cheeks flush and you look away. “Pau, oh my God. Enough with that! Please, look away now.”

His laughter fills the air once again. “What!”

“I’m serious! No more. Just focus on the movie.”

“I am focusing. I’ve been focused,” Pau defends, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, gently pulling you against him. “What’s so bad about me saying your eyes look pretty? Don’t believe me?”

You groan, “Well! Well, I mean, like, I don’t know.”

“I always compliment your eyes. It’s not new.”

“No, it’s not. I just—what’s your favorite color?”

“Brown,” he answers almost instantly, and that’s enough for you to sit up, your gaze narrowing.

You felt sick. “See! You know what you’re doing!”

“You’re such a baby,” he teases, repeating his usual move and pulling you back into him. “Okay, so what’s your favorite color? Tell me that.”

“Hm… like, a blue-ish green-ish color. Yeah, that.”

That’s when he hums, ruffling your hair. “Y’know, that’s oddly similar to the color of my eyes.”

“Is it? I couldn’t really tell,” you reply innocently.

“Alright, alright. I’m finished. Now we can finally watch the movie. How does that sound? Good?”

Nestling closer to him, you echo, “Sounds good.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[cherrysolo]

CALL IT EHAT YOU EANT!! and also runner up bf luigi in college 😇

summary: you and luigi were roommates, meeting in sophomore year at Upenn. now during your final year as a students, it was harder than ever to keep your feelings at bay.

this is pure fluff and really cheesy, but it was so fun to write! I hope you guys enjoy it <3 inspired by “call it what you want” by miss taylor swift!

he was your best friend, you guys did everything together. studying, cooking, and laughing until the sun rose. even though you guys only got aquatinted about two years ago, it felt like you’ve known him your entire life. you truly believed you were soulmates, he knew you better than anyone else. his starry eyes always sparking up your darkest nights, and you truly hoped he felt the same. lingering eyes, soft touches to your back, and quaint signs of pda, that made you believe maybe he wanted more.

you’ve had enough of trial and error of relationships, awkward coffee shop dates, and hinge hookups. you wanted something real with meaning. but, lu loved you like you were brand new, even if you were only friends. he loved everything about you, your smile, your laugh, the freckles that scattered across your face, and your passion for taylor swift. he thought you were a bit crazy sometimes staying up late to see what surprise song she would sing, but his favourite was when he would catch you blasting her music in the kitchen, dancing around like nobody was watching. you thought you had annoyed lu with your obsession, constantly yapping his ear off about news about taylor, and rep tv theories, but he truly loved it more than ever. seeing your face light up, and babbling on about something you’re so passionate about, he could sit there for hours staring at you.

“I want to wear his initial

On a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck

Not because he owns me

But 'cause he really knows me

Which is more than they can say,”

You recall late November, sitting at your kitchen island blasting reputation and studying for your psych final. sipping on a camomile tea, going over the same notes for hours, you were beginning to fall tired. until you heard the door unlock.

“y/n? im back from class,” luigi exclaims, walking through the door with a shy smile.

“hey lu, im in the kitchen,” your heart begins racing whenever you see him, even during small moments like these.

he places his bag down, and leans against the kitchen island. his eyes dot between you and your speaker, quirking his eyebrow.

“this is the snake album right?” he questions. you start laughing with full force, he really does try his best.

“yeah, it’s called reputation, lu. remember? I’ve only told you about a million times,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“im just messing with you pretty girl, i could never forget your favourite things,” he smiles, making your cheeks flush pink, and he falls even more in love with you.

“anyways, i got you an early christmas present,” lu pushes a small bag across the island. your eyebrows quirk, looking at him in confusion. you guys never did christmas presents for the years you’ve been friends. you guys always decided on a movie night together, luigi didn’t like materialistic things anyway.

“this is random. what’s the occasion? Christmas isn’t for another few weeks,” you bite your lip nervously, your brain scatters to think of what could it be.

“let’s just say my close friend taylor inspired me,” luigi smirked.

you take a small box out of the bag, and realize that it’s tiffany blue. he got you a piece of tiffany jewelry,

“no, this is way too much! I can’t accept this,” you exclaim, shaking your head, pushing the box away.

“y/n… just open it.. please?” your eyes dot back and forth between luigi and the blue box.

you hesitantly unwrap the ribbon and open the box, to uncover a silver necklace. the necklace has a heart shaped pendant with the letter “L” engraved on it. your heart stops, your face heats up, then you lock eyes.

“you know? the lyrics you always sing around the house?” luigi softly smiles. your mouth goes completely dry.

“wow. yeah, I didn’t think you noticed,” luigi starts walking towards you and grabs the box.

“do you mind? why don’t we put it on,” gesturing to help you put on the new gift. you move your hair out of the way, so that he has access. your breath hitches and so does his. you feel his fingers slightly touch your neck, and lay the necklace onto you. you feel his fingers clasp the necklace, then slowly move to your shoulder as you face him.

“wow, it looks beautiful on you, y/n.” luigi softly whispers. his eyes flickering back from your eyes to your lips. both of you are breathing heavily, not knowing what will happen next.

“thank you, lu. it’s stunning, you really do know me,” you say breathless, your eyes fluttering to his lips.

“I’ve been wanting to do this forever, is this okay, y/n?” luigi places his hand to your jaw, his thumb lovingly rubbing your cheek. you nodded, breathing too heavy you couldn’t speak.

your lips brushing his, and the mix of heavy breaths and urgency filled the air. he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, making up for lost time. you both pull apart, blushing and overwhelmed.

“wow,” lu kisses the side of your mouth,

“maybe I do really know you,” he winks, returning to kiss you again.

the end.

[giggly-squiggily]

Okay you can disregard the last adk I sent for Gojo and Geto (my bad 😅)

Instead, what about the trio (Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara) getting back at Gojo for always tickling them and they succeeded

Can't wait to see what you do 💖🫶🏾

EEEE This is a bit older but YES! Gladys you always have the best prompts! I love the idea of the trio getting Gojo- my heart is so happy writing this sakjerajkejkrajkerjk I've gotcha covered! :D

“Okay guys- time to retract and regroup!” Yuji stood tall before his group, puffing his chest to exert powerful energy. Did he truly know exactly what he was saying? Not really- but he watched enough business dramas to get the idea. “Our last attempt to get Gojo-sensei was a bust. How are we gonna recover from it?”

“You mean your last attempt. I told you it wouldn’t work.” Megumi rolled his eyes, arms stretched as Nobara painted his fingernails. Their impromptu movie night turned into a salon day for the boys when her new nail polish set came in the mail. “You really should give up.”

“Never!” Yuji struck a pose, eyes ablaze. “Not after that last crushing defeat! I was so close! I could practically taste his laughter!”

“Gross- how do you even taste laughter?” Nobara nodded at her work, pride in her growing smile. “Come here, Itadori. It’s your turn.”

“Ooo, make me pretty!” Yuji slid over and stuck his hands out, laughing as she wrinkled her nose at the state of his cuticles. “Seriously though- I think it’s possible! If we work as a team-”

“Pass.” Megumi and Nobara spoke in sync.

“Come on, you two!” He pleaded, eyes puppy-like. “Think about it! Gooms- how many times has Gojo Sensei tickled you since taking you in all those years ago?”

“All the time. Relentlessly.”

“Right! Isn’t it time for payback?” He turned to Nobara next. “'Bara- don’t you love chaos? Don’t you ever wonder what Gojo-sensei looks like when tickled?”

“Hmm..that is tempting.” She mused, finishing up her work on Yuji’s fingers. “Screw it- I’m in!”

“Seriously?” Megumi asked while Yuji whooped.

“Yeah! I’ve made the impossible happen before.” She grinned, confidence radiating off her like waves. “I can do it again!”

“He’ll kill us.”

“Us?” 

“...Fine, I’m in.” Megumi resigned, earning a round of cheers. He hid his smile in his soda can. “So how exactly are we doing this?”

“I have a plan.” Yuji gestured them over. “But it’s pretty bold.”

~~~

Gojo wasn’t a simple man. He had a knack for catching onto mischief- especially when it came to his three students.

“Hey, Gojo?” Megumi was standing before him, cheeks red and hands shaking as they pressed further into his pockets. “Can I…get a hug?”

That didn’t mean his brain always won over his heart.

Gojo gaped, brows to his hairline and jaw dropped. He took off his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve and putting them back on to make sure his eyes were working. “Megumi? Did-did you just ask me for a hug?”

The younger boy seemed to shrink on himself, looking an adorable combination of both frustrated and mortified. “Yes..?”

“Oh…Oh how I longed for this day.” Gojo cried crocodile tears as he wiped at his cheeks, sniffing a few times. “The day you see me as your dad! The day you let me love you like the son I’ve always wanted!”

“I never said that. If anything, you’re more of a weird uncle.” Megumi frowned harder, glaring at the obnoxiously delighted man. “Nevermind, I take it back. Keep your hug.”

“Wait, Goomy!” Gojo appeared before him, arms out and eyes twinking. “You can’t just go up to someone offering a hug and not follow through!”

“I didn’t offer-”

“Come here.” He did a little hop forward, brows bouncing as he gestured Megumi into his embrace. “Where my hug at?”

“Don’t say that- now you really sound like a weird uncle.” Megumi crossed the distance, wrapping his arms around Gojo and feeling the other man startle. “There.”

After a moment, Gojo’s arms down to embrace him, his cheek against Megumi’s crown and his squeeze a level of comfort the younger man wasn’t expecting. He felt bad for what was to come. “Sorry, Gojo.”

“I know. I forgive you.” Gojo didn’t sound mad, nor did he release his embrace. He simply held on as Nobara and Yuji charged them. “It was worth the hug though.”

Seconds later, they hit the ground hard.

~~~

“Gehehahhahahah! Yohoohu threehehehe! Cohoohhome on, spahahhare your tehahahhcher!” Gojo cried out, three sets of hands going to work to break him down. To his amusment- it seemed they picked up on his own tickle techniques. “I’ll gihihiihive yohhohohu ehahhehextra crehheehdit!”

“For what? You don’t even assign homework!” Yuji pointed out, pinning both of Gojo’s wrists above his head while his companions went to work. “Wait- don’t actually assign homework now, Gojo-sensei!”

“You blockhead! Now he’s definitely gonna give us homework!” Nobara gave him a look from her spot by his legs, one hand holding down Gojo’s kicking leg while the other skittered along the back of his knee. “Keep tickling him until he takes it back!”

“Yeah!”

“Whahahait, wahahahit-ahahahahhahah!” Gojo arched with a cackle, not bothering with resisting. Even if he wanted to, he doubt he could with Megumi poking along the back of his ribs. He just had to go for the worst spots. “I hahahhahte hohohohmewohohohork! Whohohoh the hehehehell asiiihihihsgn’s hihihihis stuhuhudent’s hhoiohohmework?”

“Way to set an example as a teacher.” Megumi tsked him, stretching his hands further to really get his lower back set. The action alone was enough to have him dying. “So shameful.”

“Dohohohn’t you stahhahart on mehehee-ehehheheheehehehhe, nhoohoho cohohome ohohohon!” Gojo weakly tugged on his arms when Yuji dared to tickle an armpit. “Fihihihihne, fhihihihihne, no hohohohmewhohohoohrk! Nohohohoo hhoohohohmewohohohork!”

“Yay!” Nobara and Yuji cheered, briefly stopping their ticklish antics to highfive overhead. “Wait- why were we talking about homework again?” Yuji suddenly asked, making all three pause.

Unfortunately for them, that was the moment Gojo chose to counter.

“No homework, but here comes your extra lessons!” He moved like lightning, gathering all three of them up in seconds before bringing them to the ground, tickling like crazy. Squeals and shrieks and swears filled the area as he rapidly clawed at ribs and bellies and necks. “This will teach you to tickle your dear ol’ teacher!”

“Aheahhaha! Soohoho yohohohou’re finahahahahlly admihihihiting your ohohohld?” Yuji cried out, shrieking when Gojo doubled his efforts. “I tahhahake it bahahahck, I tahhahke it bnahahahck!”

“Ehehehehhhehehe! Thihihis wahahsn’t eehehehven my ihihiheheheha!” Nobara cried out with a high pitched cackle, scrunching up as her neck was pinched at. “It wahhahhs Yuhuhuhuhuhji’s!”

“Ihihihit was ahhahahall hihihihim! Gehehhet Ihihihihitahahhadori!” Megumi cried, pushing at the hand against his stomach. “Stahhahahap!”

“Call me old and then demand me to stop? You three are rather cheeky!” Gojo chided with mock disappointment, unable to fight off his smile. “Tell me I’m a great teacher and I’ll do it. Come on- sing me your praises.”

“Yohohohu’re grhehahahahaht! Yoohohohu’re ghreahhahahhahhat!” The three of them chorused in various tones of mirth, making Gojo laugh with them. After getting one last good tickle, he finally relented.

“Okay- lesson’s over.” He stood back with hands on his hips, laughing at the sight of his students piling up on one another in giggles. “You three are adorable..say, why are you all wearing nail polish?” He blinked at their sparkly fingers, only just now registering the look. 

Megumi seemed to flush redder as he struggled to hide his hands. Nobara meanwhile sat up and gleefully stuck out her fingers to show off her work. “Do you love them? They’re holo!”

 “Wow, would you look at that? I wish I knew you were doing manicures; I’d have you do mine.”

“I can do yours!” Nobara offered, Yuji joining in gleefully at the idea.

“Yeah! Gojo-sensei, match with us! Nobara even did Goom’s toes!”

“Don’t tell him that- get off me!” Megumi fumed, struggling to shove his friend off who dived for his feet. Gojo cackled, clapping his hands as he took in the sight of his beloved students.

“Sounds good. Let me know when your next nail appointment opens up. I’ll gladly join in.”

~~~

Nanami blinked, brow furrowed. He didn’t know what it was about Gojo, but the longer he looked, the more he felt something was…different.

When the blonde caught his eye, he flashed his fingers, making the rainbow against his fingernails dance. “My students.”

“That’s nice.” Nanami nodded, turning back to look out at the horizon.

A brief pause. “Wanna see my toenails?”

“Keep your shoes on, Gojo.”

Thanks for reading!

[lizajane2]

I was scrolling through Tiktok as one does and came across a vid from a woman saying how it was wrong of Ryan to want to be in control of creative decisions over Deadpool... girly, here's the thing, Deadpool being introduced to the MCU never would've been a thing had it not been FOR Ryan. He's been passionate about the character from the beginning, even leaked (you can't convince me he wasn't the one who did it) test footage in 2014 when Fox said "nah nobody wants that" when it was in fact the opposite. Looking at you Tom Rothman.

Ryan fought tooth and nail to get Deadpool off the ground, he was the one who made things happen. But then you're gonna back up your claim even more because TJ Miller left too? Whatever that man says, I take it with a grain of salt, especially with his sexual assault allegations.

I'm not even gonna mention the atrocity that is Wade Wilson in X-Men Origins: Wolverine... actually no wait, I am. You wanna know what Ryan did after that ridiculous Hollywood writing? To make sure that Deadpool was going to be released, he wasn't paid for his performance and it allowed Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick to write and work on set alongside him. Not to mention, Ryan's film production company, Maximum Effort, collaborated on the marketing campaign for the first two Deadpool movies. You think he shouldn't have creative control? I absolutely believe he should.

[bonaesperanza]

I saw a similar post that I can't find right now where one of the replies introduced the concept of narrative porosity.

Basically, it's not about how good the piece of media is, it's about how many threads it leaves for you to pick up and follow up on (or how many holes it has for you to fill, hence the word "porosity"). A sort of fandom equivalent to affordances in developmental psych.

If a piece of media has resolved all its character arcs and subplots and dealt satisfyingly with all its narrative themes it leaves you nothing to do. It's all tied in a bow and you can't add anything without ruining it. Lots of more highbrow media is like that because these are things something like, say, litfic or an Oscar bait movie cares about: it has a small number of characters but their psyches are explored to exhaustion and the themes are usually done well because that's litfic's Thing. (That's what makes it good, while Fast & Furious is beloved less for its intricate characterization and more for its excellent car chase sequences.)

OTOH a CW show will have straggling plot threads and characters that appear and disappear ad hoc and themes that get dropped after two seasons and minor characters that are given certain traits for variety but that turn out to have fascinating psychological implications. Mediocre media has lots of threads to pick up on because it's shoddily made and therefore undersaturated with meaning by default.

BUT that's not the only way to have narrative porosity.

Worldbuilding that only hints at certain areas of the world or gives loads of information you can expand on also increases narrative porosity because that also gives you threads to pick up on. You wouldn't call LOTR mediocre but it has a huge fandom for exactly this reason - you get to flesh out all the random blorbos from the appendices or whatever.

This is also why media dealing with institutions and hierarchies and life within them does well - it gives you scaffolding to create your own iterations on those contexts, e.g. making your own Jedi or wizard or shinigami or waterbender OC or writing about the previous or next generation or whatever. The worldbuilding is basically a grid template where only the boxes for the main characters have been filled. OTOH if I wanted to write fic for, say, the movie Anora, I can only do that by featuring the characters of Anora, otherwise it's just a story set in New York.

Having a plot-oriented piece of media means that in-depth exploration of the characters' psyche doesn't fit the genre/format, but if your thing lasts more than like three hours your characters will behave in ways and react to things and if you've made them even the least bit humanlike that can be inferred to hint at hidden depths. Tantalizing glimpses of more complex characterizations that are never paid off in canon also create porosity, because they also leave unaddressed straggling threads. There's tension there, room for a theme or a character arc that the OG writer(s) haven't put in.

I'd argue that having characters and plots fit into easily comprehensible archetypes that are relatively detached from the setting also fits because it gives you AU potential. I recently had a talk on an ASOIAF discord server about how difficult it'd be to make a modern AU version of Theon Greyjoy, because his entire personality and mindset have been shaped by the medieval institution of sending relatives as hostages to guarantee your good behavior it'd be very hard to transplant that without losing a huge chunk of his character and motivations. OTOH more universal character beats or traits: abusive parents, star crossed love, overachieving, yearning for adventure, etc. are easier to play with by making various iterations across various settings. Luke Skywalker could be a random dude from Appalachia and he could have all the character beats from the OG movies - yearning for adventure, coming into his own, encountering his estranged father who turns out to be a dick. This can happen in Ancient Greece or in Alberta, Canada or in the Horn of Africa.

The dissatisfaction people talk about is recognizing that picking up some of the threads I described above would have made for a stronger work, or at least one more interesting to you. They're unresolved and frustratingly so, they're an annoying empty hole asking you to fill it. There's a connection that could be made but wasn't. The work isn't saturated enough with meaning, or a specific thread you care about a lot hasn't been addressed.

You can also connect the work's unresolved threads with other threads inside your head - e.g. I think I would make blorbo happy (readerfic) or I think blorbo would get along with character from fandom Y or whatever. E.g. I'm obsessed with the idea of a modern AU of The Count of Monte Cristo, because I see a novel written by a mixed race man about a man twisted by unjust imprisonment and I think about the modern prison industrial complex and what it does to minorities, and I also see the lavish wish fulfillment descriptions of fast boats and cool clothes and lavish furniture and people being judged on "taste" and I think about the cottage industry that analyzes every expensive object that's ever appeared in Succession and I think a Monte Cristo modern AU would be a crowdpleaser that I would LOVE to see. That's a thread I've connected to something entirely outside the original novel that's relevant and fun to me.

OTOH I think there's a type of work that says very little in the actual text but wields its blank spaces so masterfully that you get this feeling that trying to fill them would make everything worse. The blank spaces already have meanings.

Challengers for example - a lot of its artistry is in expertly wielding the tension, in choosing what to show you and where to cut off. It does feel saturated with meaning even though it leaves so much unsaid because the "narrative whitespace" takes on a meaning of its own, like the arrow in the FedEx logo can only possibly be an arrow. It's hands down my favourite movie of the year, but I'm lowkey kind of scared to look up fic for it in case I ruin it somehow. I feel like extending the narrative beyond the movie's ending would make things less thematically resolved, like adding things to the FedEx logo might.

A lot of my favourite book series play with unreliable narrators and characters' perceptions and what is said and what is implied, and it feels almost crass to break up the way the whitespace in them is set up. I dunno, it feels like easy pickings to write a fic explicitly describing how the Regent abused Laurent from CaPri, or Gen and Irene's first night as a couple for Queen's Thief, or Lymond breaking down emotionally for the Lymond Chronicles. Like circling the FedEx arrow with a red pen and writing "arrow underneath". It kind of kills the tension, because you can already make out the shape of the missing piece from the canon, and writing it point blank kills the delicious tension in it, and perhaps even obscures the meaning and characterisation that was built into the way certain things were not said.

Sorry for the wall of text this is just a really fascinating subject for me

also this might be an unpopular opinion, but i think MOST people are actually completely able to "consume" a piece of a media without anaylzing it through a shipping lense, but i just think they than aren't likely to be posting that analysis on archiveofourown. i think for the most people what's happening is that people are like. going on fandom websites and communities and getting really annoyed they're seeing too much yaoi or whatever, and it's like there's alot of fast food at mcdonalds too, i'm sure the people eating there don't have anything else going on in there lives either

[borntobeslay]

not so sure on your exact writing rules, but i see you write for katseye soo!!!

do you have any fluffy gf!katseye headcanons???

Yesss!!

For sophia, I personally think she loves to show you off! Holding your hand in public, Hugs from behind, kisses on the cheek! She wants everyone to know that she’s got the prettiest girl in the world by her side!

For Manon, I feel like she just loves to sit and be quiet with each other?? Yk what I mean? Like after a long schedule, she’d love to just sit in your arms and watch a movie with little random conversation in the mix lol

For Daniela, she seems like the type to take you on random dates! Like one day you’re just laying in bed together then suddenly she’s like “Let’s go out to eat. I’ll pay. Oh then we can go to the theme park! And we can go to the beach…” and she just rambles on and on about all the places she wants to go with you!

For Lara I would like to think she would be in her room with you sitting on her lap while she’s working on songs and squeezing your waist and kissing your cheeks just to let you know she’s paying attention to you!

Megan… Megan is the one who geeks out over the smallest thing lol If you asked to hold hands? Blushing. You ask for a kiss? BLUSHING. I just think she’s the cutest loser gf out there lol

Yoonchae (can be platonic) I could imagine you going out for ice cream with Yoonchae she likes to listen to you ramble about your day! She’s a quiet type of girl so she won’t say much but she loves to listen!

A/n: Thank you @yunazxxx for being my first request lol😭 feel free to send more! I’m gonna be making my rules here in a second so every thing will be more clear but this was perfect! Love a good fluff!

[pushovermediacritic]

This is one of my favorite things about Jurassic Park. But it's also one of the most maddening things, to me. Like, I fully get that the dinosaurs being inaccurate (especially in the Jurassic World movies) is a major theme of the franchise, but it still bugs me that there isn't a hugely mainstream work of fiction out there that focuses on biologically accurate dinosaurs.

And again, I say this as someone who does like Jurassic Park. That movie (and The Land Before Time) is what got me into having Dinosaurs as a Special Interest as a kid. It's not really anymore, but I still love to hear about dinosaurs when news comes out.

But I do love it when I run into dinosaur media that focuses on accuracy first.

One fantastic example of that is a manga I'm reading right now called Dinosaur Sanctuary. The premise is basically "what if Jurassic Park wasn't a disaster?". It focuses on a dinosaur zoo, but through the lens of the dinosaurs being biologically accurate animals, with accurate animal behaviors and problems. It's a cute slice-of-life manga focusing on a young woman just starting out as a zookeeper and everything she has to learn about her new job.

The author works closely with a real paleontologist to make the dinosaurs as accurate as possible, and the paleontologist writes a whole page after each chapter explaining the appearance and behavior of the dinosaurs showcased in that chapter. If you like Jurassic Park but want to see a more optimistic and educational take on the same concept, I HIGHLY recommend Dinosaur Sanctuary, it's REALLY good. Also, the author's spouse is on Tumblr shilling the manga (I've reblogged from them a couple times), so if you like it, tell them.

My favorite detail about Jurassic Park is that it has a baked-in justification for any and all retcons it might need to make due to paleontology advancing forwards.

Because there is not a single dinosaur that has ever appeared in Jurassic Park.

Not one. Not in the books. Not in the movies. Not ever.

"Now what John Hammond and InGen did at Jurassic Park was to create genetically engineered theme park monsters." ~Alan Grant

Grant says that in a moment of cynicism. It's part of his arc for the film. But it's not inaccurate. What Jurassic Park has, what it's always had since the very first novel, are "Mostly Dinosaurs".

"And since the DNA is so old, it's full of holes! Now, that's where our geneticists take over!" ~Mr. DNA

It's impossible to recover a fully intact gene sequence from an ancient amber mosquito. Cloning a pure dinosaur would have been completely impossible, and so the park filled in the gene sequence with whatever works. Frog. Lizard. Bird. Whatever they need to get the result they are trying to get.

Every single dinosaur is a chimeric beast made up of mostly dinosaur and a bunch of other stuff that some scientists thought would achieve the appropriate dinosaur-like result.

"Nothing in Jurassic World is natural! We have always filled gaps in the genome with the DNA of other animals. And if the genetic code was pure, many of them would look quite different." ~Dr. Henry Wu

Which, from a writing perspective, is fucking genius. Because now you have a preset excuse for each and every plot hole your movie has.

Like. Why don't the raptors have feathers? Because of the chimera DNA.

Why do dilophosaurs spit venom? Because of the chimera DNA.

Why do T-Rexes have movement based vision? Oh, they don't. But Rexy does. Because of her chimera DNA.

Why is the Spinosaurus so fucking big? Because of the chimera DNA.

Why are the velociraptors mislabeled? Because Hammond's a dipshit.

Like. I've always marveled at the way Jurassic Park started out by giving itself a blanket excuse to be wrong about every single thing it ever said about the central attraction of its franchise. It's honestly beautiful, and allows the series a degree of immortality well into the era where we know better about its animals.

[vonbabbitt]

Throwing this in, though I know you have a post saying you're taking a break: I quite like Tetro. The story is exciting, and incredible. You've done an amazing job piecing everything together, and it has lead to me pretty seriously looking into following the footsteps of this project with a story also told in this audio format, since you demonstrated so clearly not only how this was possible, but how this could be done so well for a Killing Game specifically. The latest events, the latest death, as made me incredibly sad, and I feel a lot of emotional turmoil over losing both victims. But despite that, I have enjoyed the loving, losing, and worrying for the future. That's amazing. All of it is amazing. I have my theories and conclusions about who may be guilty and who isn't, but based on the posts I read, I mainly wanted to express an amount of thankfulness that the series exists at all. It's even lead to me writing fanpieces for some character interactions, and I imagine I have a few more in me from all that's gone on. Not only that, but the hard topics of this series have meant a lot to me. Yanagi and Tsuno have especially felt really close to home. The stories they talk about and the things they deal with matter in my own life. And the series as a whole has made me cry over stuff that mattered to me much more than any other media has done in the last year or so, maybe longer, in even broader strokes. All the characters don't just feel like people one could meet, but people I have met. People I have known. And some of those conversations feel just like ones I've had in my own life. You've done something incredible, and the writing has connected to me deeply. And though I can only speak for me, I doubt I'm alone in this. Thank you for this project, and thank you for sharing it so broadly, freely, and completely. Thanks for writing it, and writing daringly, maturely, and earnestly. At least, such are the ways I would describe it.

I hope I can cross paths with you sometime in the future over a creative endeavor. But in the meanwhile, I'll be tuned in to whatever you do for this, and for whatever comes next. As these things are called asks, if you do decide to respond: Who on Tetro is your favorite? Is it the same from when you were initially writing it? And what lead you to choose an audio drama as the medium in question? Thanks, and see ya at the trial.

thank you very very much, im extremely glad that youve been able to connect with my writing on that level and i hope that others have as well! i really enjoyed the writing process for tetro so its always really cool for me when others can enjoy my story as well

also, my favourite is hama! that changed a lot during production, but ive settled on hama as my goat forever i think. sorry to all the other favs i abandoned along the way

i chose the audio drama format because ive always really liked being able to picture things. when i was a kid, i used to fall asleep to audio books every night, and i really liked being able to picture the characters and stories as they were happening. i would always be so disappointed when id go to watch a movie adaptation of a book i liked only to see that everything looked different from in my head lmao.

i also think audio is a really fun format for this type of story! it was a fun challenge to get my points across without having visuals to back my writing. i didnt have very much faith in my ability to do this at first. tetro was originally planned to have a narrator because i didnt think id be able to tell a story without one. when i realized my writing could stand on its own, i took out the narrator and just let myself carry it as best i could. i think it made for some really fun opportunities where the impact of a scene just wouldnt have been nearly as strong if there had been visuals or narration.

i think [Ice Fairy] is a highlight of tetro in terms of audio storytelling - same with [Good Child]. having only audio forces you as the viewer to take a moment to figure out what's happening, which in turn gives you an "oh shit" realization moment that really helps the impact of a scene like [Ice Fairy] or [Good Child]. there are still some more really cool examples of tetro utilizing its format left to come - i hope you enjoy them when they do!

[roseyodditea]

Hiii (llove ur harumasa work)

If u don't mind writing for both haru and Seth (cuz both of them have cute Lil fangs my god those teef)

Could I request love bites from them? Like they saw their s/o and felt they looked extremely cute that in the midst of a hug/snuggle/cuddle they just Chomp or any extra scenarios

I'll leave the rest to u but extra dose if fluff Plz!

🍮

You are so right I do love their little teeth.

They Bite Because They Like You - Seth/Harumasa x gn!Reader (Seperate)

Summary -> About 500 words each. Barely proofread because it was written in the waiting room of a vet's office <3 Warnings -> None! The biting isn't too suggestive

It was a cozy, rainy afternoon and after what felt like hours of begging and pleading you had convinced Seth to forgo his training for the afternoon and cuddle up with you to watch a movie. Between the light pattering of the rain on the windows, the lit candles being the only light source, and the big fluffy blanket, it was hard to not feel relaxed. You were thankful to have this time to enjoy with your sweet boyfriend. You had never dated a feline thiren before, so it wasn’t unusual for Seth to do something you weren’t quite used to, but this was new. Your sweet boyfriend was… shaking? Vibrating?

You picked your head up just slightly to get a look to make sure everything was okay, only to see him intently focused on the tv. Nothing seemed wrong, so you put your head back down on his chest, hearing the noise and feeling him shake again. After a few seconds you realized what it was. He was purring and it was the best noise you’ve ever heard. 

“You are adorable,” you coo and see his ears twitch a bit as he looks down with a clueless expression. 

“Huh?” He tilted his head a bit, curious.

“You’re purring! You’re all comfy and cozy and purring!!” You tease and poke his side only to hear the high pitched noises he let out in protest. “Cute!”

“I am not cute!” He let out a shrill giggle, a bit ticklish. 

You continued to tickle him relentlessly, pinning him under your body weight as you listened to the noises and snorts, your hands moving to tickle his stomach. “You’re the sweetest and most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.” Seth lets out a particularly loud laugh before reacting on pure instinct, reeling up to sink his teeth in your bicep before he realizes what he did, looking at you blankly, bracing himself for the teasing that was about to come. 

“You just bit me like a little kitten!” You teased, finding it adorable despite the slight sting from the sharp fangs on your skin. “Like you had enough pets and you just bit me! That’s so cute.”

“No! I’m not cute!” He chokes out another laugh before biting more up your arm, like a petulant little kitten who was losing a fight. It doesn’t phase you at all, not minding the little raised red marks you’d have peppering your arm once you were done. How could you stop when he was being this adorable?

Seth finally wiggles away to the other side of the couch before he pouts and moves out of your grasp, sitting up and looking away from you, his ears flattening and twitching lightly as he glances back to see if you’re paying attention.  

“Nooo I wanted to cuddle,” you sigh and watch how he wasn’t budging. “...Truce?” Seth looked over and smiled softly. “Truce.” He replied before moving to lay on top of you, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso.

“Are you going to start purring again?” You ask a bit excitedly.

“Probably. I’m enjoying this time with you.” Seth murmured and nosed into your neck.

… “Can you meow for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

Publicly being Harumasa’s partner was… difficult to say the least. Walking through Lumina Square on a weekend with the flash of fans and press every now and then was a pain on its own, but the scolding words from some of the super fans who wanted to “steal your place” was overwhelming. It was too much, and you ducked into an alleyway and sat down on the concrete, catching your breath while Harumasa tried to get the press off of his back. You sat and a fat street cat came over for pets, helping you relax even further. You didn’t hear the footsteps until the cat ran away, Harumasa letting out a frustrated huff. “Hey, love.” He cooed softly and sat next to you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m sorry today was ruined.” “It wasn’t ruined,” you mumbled and leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. “I got a little overwhelmed and needed a breather. It’s okay.” Harumasa was quiet for a bit before he spoke back up. “Well… Let me make it up to you. I know what you want~” A teasing tone dripped off of every single word he said, those golden eyes shimmering in mischief.

“What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking we'll go back to your place and make some cookies.” He offered and immediately a little light shined on your rain cloud. “Yeah see? There’s that smile I love so much.” He stands up and pulls you up with him.

“Fine, fine that sounds much better than being mobbed.” You let out a small laugh as he hoists you to your feet. Hand in hand, you both walked out of the alleyway and got maybe fifty steps before more fans and cameras found the both of you.

Random questions were thrown out, people asking for autographs or photos shouted over the insults being hurled at you. Harumasa just stopped, not wanting to give them the time of day after he just wanted to see your smile. He looked over, the look in his eyes saying he had a plan. “Can I do something over the top, ridiculous, and weird?” You tried to tune out all the people before looking at him. “What?” “C’mon. Yes or no?” “I-” one more call of someone threatening to ‘steal’ Harumasa from you sets you over the edge. “Yes. Go ahead.” Harumasa lit up before suddenly picking you up, twirling you around before attacking your face and neck with kisses and love bites, even playfully tugging the skin of your cheek just to hear the way you roared in laughter. He was being overly affectionate as you shrieked and shrilled, repeating ‘I love you’ like a prayer as he held you close to him, acting like the crowd wasn’t even there. Eventually they got the idea and dispersed, but Harumasa didn’t let up. Instead he had moved on to just biting and nipping playfully and laughing as you squirmed.

“Ah! Teeth! Teeth!” You placed your hand on his forehead and tried to push him away, the two of you practically wrestling in public and laughing. “Stop! Mercy!” You laugh as Harumasa pulls away and places one more dramatic kiss on your cheek before grabbing your hand. 

“See? Now they’ll leave us alone because they think we’re freaks.” He laughs and gives you another playfully hug.

“You’re so weird,” you caught your breath as the last of the laughs died off on your tongue. 

“Oh but you love it~” He lifts your hand to his lips for what you assume was a kiss before sinking his teeth into the back of your hand.

“Quit it!” You flick his nose and laugh as he dramatically reels away, stumbling until he’s back in step with you. 

A/N, but a bit more personal than normal -> I'm still learning about the landscape and etiquette of Tumblr because I've only really browsed until recently. So excuse me while I experiment with trying to create a style that's recognizable at a glance. Also are there like other community things I need to work on? I know I'm a very shy liker and reblogger and I'm trying to break the habit in my mind and actually outwardly show support more. I say that but my OCD makes it hard sometimes. Anyway have a good day thank you for reading <3

[nostalgebraist]

Thanks for this thoughtful review!

(BTW, for others – this is probably obvious but there are spoilers below the readmore, don't click unless you've read the book)

I'm going to use this as an opportunity to talk about one specific thing that bugs me about some reader reactions to my stuff. Therefore, most of what I say below will be negative (about your review), but I want to emphasize first that that's not a reflection of what I thought of it overall.

----

What I'm here now to talk about is this kind of thing:

There are parts of all his books, where I really think that the explanation for why they are the way they are is that they are "bad on purpose", and all the bullshit [note: in context "bullshit" seems to be meant as a neutral term for non-realist elements -nost] is a way of turning these shortcomings into strengths. The self-effacing voice which whispers that the characters aren't sufficiently well-drawn, are too cartoonish—well, what if that was the point? What if there was a reason for that, in the story?

And like... okay, there is sort of a sense in which this is true, sometimes, kinda. There is a grain of truth to this; it is getting at something real.

But it pains me to say that, because I don't want to encourage this kind of reading. Interpretations like this are occasionally correct but IMO they're much more common than they should be. IMO the right intuition is that this is a galaxy-brained, contrarian sort of take, a last resort you land on when you've ruled out everything else.

And not just with my work, with everything – I'm simply more aware of the problem when it comes to my work, because I wrote it and I'm aware of why I actually did things the way I did.

I've said this before, but watching the way that people react to my own fiction has been an eye-opening experience, one that has taught me things about reader (and viewer, etc.) reactions in general. Specifically, what I've learned was:

People's tastes are way more diverse than I had realized (before I started writing and sharing fiction). And they are diverse in a very fine-grained way; even if two readers have the same preferences about 90% of stuff, or 95%, they'll still diverge on some things. While it's not literally true that "every reader is a unique snowflake with a preference set that no one else shares," that is a very good first approximation of how things are.

Readers (including me!) have been trained by a lifetime of reading book/movie/etc. reviews to frame their preferences/reactions in a pseudo-objective "this is just how it is" way, like their own tastes have some special viewpoint-independent priority, a quality of "reality" or "accuracy" lacking in everyone else's tastes (which are all different, cf. 1). And this is not just a stylistic quirk of the way people write about fiction, it actually (IMO) feeds back into the underlying opinions behind the written commentary. It degrades people's ability to understand what it is they're looking at and their ability to make accurate inferences about the process of its creation.

----

Here's a sort of cartoonish schematic of the type of experience that led me to draw these conclusions. (And I suspect this is not just a thing that happens to me, I imagine it happens with any sort of work that "contains a lot of different types of stuff" the way mine does.)

Writer makes something that has X and Y and Z in it. Writer thinks X/Y/Z are "great tastes that taste great together." Writer is very pleased with the result.

Reader 1 has similar tastes to writer, says something brief about how they loved the book and it's a new favorite for them.

Reader 2 loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to X and not messed things up by doing so much Z.

Reader 3 is the reverse of their predecessor: they hate X, are OK with Y, love Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to Z and not messed things up by doing so much X.

Reader 4 loves X and Z – but they hate Y. They write a lengthy… you can fill in the rest. Imagine a whole bunch of these guys (readers 5, 6, etc).

Reader 17 has the same tastes as Reader 2: loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. But their lengthy review takes a different, in some sense "more charitable" angle, speculating that the inclusion of Z was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet X.

Reader 18 has the same tastes as Reader 3: hates X, is OK with Y, loves Z. But, they explain, X was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet Z.

Writer reads all these reviews and feels strange, dizzy. The "nicer" reviews like 17 and 18 are actually more uncomfortable to read than the "meaner" ones like 2 and 3.

"I don't know how to convince you guys," Writer thinks, "but I... I just liked all of it? I thought it was good? That was why I wrote it? (Why else would I have written it?)"

----

Or, as I wrote in that previously linked post from 2021, w/r/t TNC specifically (and making a slightly different but closely related point):

Some people say X was the worst part of TNC, some people say X was the best part. The story was a celebration of Y; the story was about how Y is laughably futile. It’s a letdown that we were never told more about Z; the reason TNC is good is that it leaves stuff like Z to the imagination. It was obvious we were meant to believe P; it is obvious we were meant to believe not-P; the ambiguity about whether P is tiresome literary masturbation; at least the story didn’t jump the shark by spelling out whether P! The reason people like TNC is, of course, that it has A, although nostalgebraist insisted on putting B in there too because he hasn’t fully perfected his formula yet / he somehow thinks B is good even though it isn’t / he thinks it’s funny how bad B is (but the joke tires). …and then someone else has same take, but with A and B flipped.

This exact sort of thing is of course happening again before our eyes with reactions to TAoHS.

I've encountered multiple readers who disliked most of the story but felt the ending (sort of) "redeemed it," and I've also encountered multiple readers who liked the story up until the ending but disliked the ending (or at least thought it was worse than the rest) – to say nothing of the many readers who liked (or disliked) the whole thing all the way through.

And this ending-related stuff is just one particularly obvious facet of a broader diversity in the overall reader response.

By now I know not to be surprised by this stuff, and even to find it kind of fun to watch... but I have to admit, it is still a dizzying and uncomfortable experience.

----

Now, as I said, it is sometimes true that things really are "bad on purpose."

But I think the interpreter's default hypothesis – which should be maintained by default unless convincing evidence against it can be brought forth – should be:

The writer thinks that the thing they wrote is good. They think the ideas are good and they think they executed them well. And they think this more-or-less homogeneously for everything in the work – there are no "bad but unfortunately necessary" parts from the writer's POV.

(At least, this should be the default with works that aren't making the writer much/any money. Obviously things are different with lucrative commercial fiction; there are plenty of well-paid hacks who know they're hacks and do it for the money, etc.)

Why should this be the default? Multiple reasons.

First: it takes a lot of effort to produce any sort of creative work. The writer thought that effort was worthwhile, for some reason – why?

The most straightforward explanation (and a very common one IMO) is that the writer simply believed in the thing that they were making. They believed the effort was worthwhile because it would yield a good product.

Second: as a writer you have an immense amount of freedom. It's difficult to overstate the extent of it. You are playing God, you decide the way that literally everything will be.

Obviously there are some constraints, cases where one part of a story will imply the existence of another or whatever.

But it's very rare that you actually get forced into "doing a thing you know you are bad at, badly." After all: why do that? No one's forcing you! Just do something else! You're God, you control everything!

(Note that this applies also to the very act of writing anything. No one is forcing you to write at all. If you can't come up with good ideas, nothing prevents you from just not writing your bad ones.)

Third: at least in my experience, "playing God" in this way requires a certain state of mind, a certain boldness and self-assurance, which is incompatible with thinking "yeah this is gonna suck but I have to do it" – but is very compatible with thinking "I am making something excellent and every part of it is excellent, hell yes."

Fourth: because of the previously noted diversity of reader preferences, it should not be surprising to any given reader that they find some parts of the work much better than others, even if the writer thought it was all excellent.

This outcome is predictable from the X/Y/Z stuff I talked about above. No clever interpretive work is required to explain it; it arrives pre-explained; it's simply what happens by default.

And finally: because, as I noted above, I think all of us are infected with "reviewer brainworms" and we need to be mindful of this fact.

(Just to be clear, I am not accusing OP of being more infected with said brainworms than anyone else; I'm still on my soapbox, giving a generic rant about a general issue, with OP as merely a jumping-off point.)

We've grown accustomed to the casual conflation between our own tastes and some (usually hazily imagined and under-theorized) sort of "objective, ideal artistic standards."

Outside of a few edge-case eccentrics who can be ignored for my present purposes, we do not do this because we've become intellectually convinced that

(a) such objective standards make sense and really "exist" or at least really matter and

(b) they just so happen to match our own preferences.

Rather, we've fallen into this habit because it's what the pros do: there's a standard style that professional critics and reviewers write in these days, and that style implies these stances. And if one writes (and thinks, in one's inner monologue) in this style, one can easily fall over backwards into uncritically believing (a) and (b) for no better reason than "I seem to already be talking as though I believe these things, hence it would be simple and convenient if I really did believe them."

But – even if we bracket the philosophical questions of whether (a) is in fact true, and (if it is) whose tastes in particular ought to be elevated in the way (b) presumes – even if we table all that for another day, still we ought to keep in mind how weird and audacious a move this is, this simultaneous assertion-without-explanation of the (a)+(b) pair.

We've gotten used to it by exposure, because "the pros" have normalized it. But in actual fact it is a pretty wild thing to just go and assume, given the X/Y/Z/etc. diversity of actual opinion!

If (b) is true for you (general "you" not OP), then it can't be true for me, because we're both unique snowflakes to a first approximation; indeed if (b) is true for you then (to a first approx.) it is only true for you. No one else's tastes have this magical relation to reality, just yours.

Holding the belief (b) about a given reviewer is conceivable-but-wild if we're only considering them in isolation. But once we bring a 2nd reviewer (with non-identical tastes) into the picture, who also believes (b), it's literally impossible to maintain that both of these people are fully right.

And then of course in real life there are not 2 but many, many readers out there, all of them unique snowflakes. And, while it is socially normal in our social context for each one of them to write like they're the chosen one blessed with that special (b)-magic, if you read enough such writing and actually think about what you're reading, it can't help but feel like a sort of game, like playing make-believe. As with most games, it can be very entertaining (for all parties involved), but we shouldn't confuse its amusing conceits for properties of the real world.

In the real world, the writer has their tastes, and you have yours. These tastes are probably not identical. The writer may be aware of the diversity of readerly tastes, and may thus be aware that tastes like yours are out there, but they have no special reason to consider you in particular, elevating you above all the other readers who are non-identical with them (and with you). The writer is dimly and abstractly aware of you, at best, as just another one of the people who will come along later, dislike some of their choices, assume that these choices were wrong in some "objective" way the writer knew about at the time, and then speculate as to why the writer would do something they know is wrong. For every choice, and every way of making every choice, one can imagine a reviewer who responds to it in this way, and quite often these reviewers actually materialize once the work is available for consumption. If you try to reason about these guys in advance, as a writer, it'll stop you in your tracks (if nothing else because there are 2+ of them whose takes are mutually incompatible). You've gotta have some other standard of value to rely on.

So, as a reviewer, if you ask "why would someone ever make a choice I don't like?" and try to pick at this question, you are quite likely heading toward a dead end. The writer wasn't thinking about you (or people like you). They were applying their own, distinct standard of value.

Better to ask: "suppose there was a person who actually liked all of this. What would they be like? How would they be similar to me / different from me? And what, if anything, can I conclude from that?"

The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

My fourth novel, The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, is now available in full.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

[demigodsanswer]

I know it's kind of an stretch since they're royals and have their babysitter, but maybe Percy and Annabeth being interrupted during their alone time because their child keeps demanding their attention?

This for the modern royals au btw

Might write this as an actual fic later, but if I write it now, I'll stay up all night. but I could not get this idea out of my head. It's just royal Percy and Annabeth discovering what parenting must be like for people who aren't born into birthright monarchies

Percy and Annabeth are way more hands-on parents than most people in their position, but because of this, they have a tendency to underestimate how much they do rely on their nannies for. When Sofia is about five and Ingrid (Gigi) is about three, they take a family vacation to New York for about a week to visit grandma. It's the kids' first time in New York (they've met Sally of course, she's just traveled to them). Percy and Annabeth decide they want to go just the four of them, because they love New York and want special time alone with their girls. They're also trying now for the third baby, so they know it's going to be the last vacation for a while.

They have a house in New York that Annabeth's family uses whenever they're in the city, but the little girls have never been there before. During the day, it's tons of fun, they like to explore it (when they aren't out and about), but the first night there, Gigi gets scared and runs to her parents.

Percy and Annabeth were just getting started on baby three, so to speak, when they hear Gigi. Gigi ends up spending the night in their room. No luck that night.

The next night, Gigi doesn't interrupt, just prevents anything entirely by asking to stay with them. They say "okay, but just one more night."

Well, the next night, Sofie learns that Gigi has been doing this, and asks to stay too. Now they have both girls in bed (and I don't know if you've ever slept next to a young child, but it's chaos. This is not a restful night of sleep).

The next night, Percy and Annabeth suggest the girls just have a sleepover together. The girls love this plan. They build a fort over the bed they're going to sleep it, and it's great. Percy and Annabeth are getting it on. And then Gigi wets the bed, which she hasn't done since she finished potty training, so it's a completely new phenomenon no one is expecting. Gigi is upset, Sofie is upset she's been peed on, and Percy and Annabeth have two messy girls, two messy sets of clothes, and a messy bed. And these are two people who haven't done a load of laundry in minimum six years. So Percy takes care of the wash (he's more used to the practice, as he actually did his own laundry when he lived in New York and through college), while Annabeth gets them in the bath. Very little sleep is had that night.

Percy and Annabeth have literally never been more tired. This is the first time they're really feeling the weight of parenthood as regular people must. But thankfully, Sally an Paul are taking the girls to the Museum of Natural History the next day, so Annabeth and Percy have the day to themselves. Originally they had planned to visit old haunts, maybe get a cocktail together. They spend the first half of the day asleep, and the second in sexual positions they haven't found themselves in in six years. They are in a revitalized, amazing mood by the time they meet Sally and the girls for dinner.

The last night in New York, they just decide to have a big family sleep over, forgoing any attempts at baby making in favor of movies, popcorn, and snuggles with the kids they do have.

Also all the nannies are getting raises when they get back.

[cringearcade]

Saw that your requests are open, how about Homicidal Liu x reader? :)

omg my first request! one set of headcanons coming right up

HOMICIDAL LUI X READER GENERAL HEADCANONS

First things first this man hasn't been an active member of society since 2015. The only social interaction this man gets is buying 2 cent ramen at the nearest convenience store so chances are you either have to be a fellow creepypasta or some store clerk he develops a parasocial relationship with

As mentioned above he has pretty much shut himself off from the world so he is very awkward but awkward in an endearing way like you can tell he just wants to be a good boyfriend but he doesn't really know how because he thinks it's supposed to be all flowers and teddy bears and fancy dates like in the movies 

Liu is protective of the relationship you guys have and even more of you because you’re one of the only meaningful relationships he has and he doesn't want to lose it or you so yknow if someone has anything to say about you or your relationship then they'll have to see Liu about it first

When Liu finally gets comfortable in the relationship (most likely a couple of weeks in at least) he is definitely straightforward in how he feels and what he wants, because as awkward as he is, he is also very much confident in himself and what he wants and is very stubborn in his own morals (bro is a serial killer but there are lines he refuses to cross) 

Liu doesn't seem the type for pet names but every once in a while  you’ll be able to squeeze a hun out of him, he got it from hearing his father call his mother that but he mostly just prefers to call you by name simply because he thinks its beautiful

Liu’s love language i would say is words of affirmation and acts of service. Lui likes to feel like he’s needed and he likes to let you know he’s able to take care of you but sometimes he just needs to hear that he’s doing good, that you love him even after everything he’s done, and will do, he’ll appreciate it and in the long run, may even get the confidence to say them back

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

thank you for reading! this is my first time writing something like this so I hope I did good!

[your-unfriendlyghost]

sodapop patrick curtis thoughts on my desk by the end of the week or ur DONE /j

How I feel about this character

  Uh like he’s perfect and should be my wife i think

  Nah but fr Soda’s one of my favorite characters ever. He’s sweet and all, but he’s so much more than that. Pony says he’s movie-star handsome, that he can go from gentle one minute to “blazing with anger” the next, that he gets drunk just on living, and understands everybody. Soda’s a Kerouac-style “mad one”- “mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes Awww!”

He’s a guy who’s sensitive but strong, a “bawl baby” who’s tough, he’s probably got ADHD and dyslexia, the school system failed him. His folks died and left him holding his brothers together by a thread. He’s pretty but not pretty enough for Sandy to stay. He might end up dying in Vietnam, and thank God that isn’t canon, but it’s still there. He’s happy to live life simply, behind a white picket fence with a wife and kids- hell, he’s thrilled to. But that’s not gonna happen, at least not for a while, because Soda is a tragedy. But he loves his brothers and his friends so much that he becomes a beacon of hope despite it all.

  I love Soda. Honestly, this barely scratches the surface of how I feel about him. I haven’t even touched on the adrenaline junkie stuff or the ways he’s sometimes so relatable to me that it hurts. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Steve, and sometimes Evie. 

  I’ve found I’m a friends-to-lovers enjoyer, so Stevepop scratches that part of my brain lol. To have someone who’s got your back through thick and thin, aware of your flaws but in spite of them- well, ain’t that the dream? The angst of it being the 60s makes it interesting to me too, because there’s a lot of ways to handle that. Man, when I first read the book I didn’t get the hype for them at all, but idk. It clicked. I get it now. 

  And then Steviepop is my roman empire lol. It’s all I love about Stevepop, but Evie adds even more complexity. I like her a lot and I love writing her, and I love writing her with characters who I also love. There is absolutely no canon anything to back this ship up. But dammit that’s the point of fandom.

  I will say though that I like exploring Soda’s dynamic with Sandy, but I don’t really ship them. I think the fact that Sandy left him (and I mean cheated on him, even if that can be read ambiguously) implies that there’s something about him that could be undesirable, romantically. I don’t mean cheating is good or that people deserve it, just that in this case, the idea that Soda’s an imperfect boyfriend adds layers to a character who is mostly just positives. We’ll never know Sandy’s POV on it, and I don’t think Soda will either. Sandypop to me will never have closure. That’s what makes it hurt so much. That’s what makes it relatable

My non-romantic OTP for this character

  I mean honestly? Steve. I know this isn’t really fair, since I like Stevepop and all, but idk, there’s no one else who I think it could be. 

  Steve’s a character who’s cocky and troubled and prone to assholeish-ness, but even he loves Soda. He knows about Sandy and gets angry on Soda’s behalf at Pony for mentioning her, which means Soda can tell him- angry, tough Steve Randle- about sensitive stuff. And Soda, who I think is a little in love with everyone he meets and could have anyone he wants, sees this bastard and sticks with him. He sees the parts of Steve that Pony can’t. Parts that make him worthy of being his best buddy.

It’s been said before, but no matter how you look at it, romantic or platonic, they’re each other’s person. I don’t think I could put anyone else in this slot.

My unpopular opinion about this character

 I have a few lol.

1- I see a lotta fics and takes where the whole “drunk on living” thing is a lie Soda feeds Ponyboy, and while I like that take, I do also think it’s totally possible and even plausible that Soda really doesn’t drink and Pony’s view of him (in that aspect) is right.

  I dunno, I mean, I know firsthand what it’s like to just get drunk on adrenaline/excitement. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug, and the rush from it is better than any other high I’ve had. Thrill rides make me act as stupid as someone drinking- when I’m excited, I lose all ability to filter thoughts or fight impulses. I’ve done all sorts of dumb moves- climbing onto tables, singing loudly without knowing or caring if it bothers people, play-fighting my buddies so hard we both get genuinely injured, standing up in a convertible going down the freeway... (This is obviously anecdotal and not real evidence or anything, but like, duh. This is an opinion piece lol.)

  I guess what I’m saying is that there’s a lot of interesting things that can still be done with a Soda who genuinely doesn’t drink. (Or at least not much.)

2- I love darker takes on Soda. I love when people dig into his addictive personality, his temper, his relationship with his looks/self image, all that stuff. I love his flaws, and I especially love when they co-exist with his earnest sweetness and genuine sensitivity. In a few of my fics, I’ve explored some slightly darker Sodas- Sodas who are impulsive, pent up, semi-narcissistic and occasionally manipulative. I haven’t delved deep into it or anything, and I usually keep his character wholesome, but I love it when other folks don’t. 

3- I actually really like the Vietnam War storyline. I mean it hurts, but it seems plausible. I hate the idea of him dying there, but I like exploring the idea of him being drafted. Hell, maybe he even enlisted. The military is known for being a good way to earn enough money to pull one’s family out of poverty, and this paired with the flawed ideas of masculinity and strength of the time lead to a really interesting version of Soda’s future.

  I’m real glad it isn’t canon though.

4- This isn’t technically unpopular but brown eyed Soda will always be canon to me. I like Rob Lowe’s Soda a lot but man….he coulda used brown contacts, yk? /hj lol

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Well I still think it’s a crime his emotional monologue got cut outta the original version of the film. Thank God for the full novel version, but man, still.

Woulda also have been cool to see him mentioned in That Was Then This is Now, but I get that SE Hinton wasn’t trying to make an Outsiders sequel really.

Idk, Soda served his purpose, I think. 

tl;dr- I love him