#if you don't get that reference you are too young for my page

[yesmaddyposts]

I watched Half Nelson starring Ryan Gosling (duh) last night and while it wasn't my vibe, I could definitely eat up a fic of a couple thousand words about Colt being addicted to pain meds after his accident.

[star--stilinski]

Going off on your “stiles being accidentally hot”. Think of like a beach date but then you notice how all the girls are looking at him but he’s obliviously stiles not realizing he’s gained muscle from all his lacrosse training

(Then you prove he’s yours) WHAT?! Who said that?!

(Sorry I’m a freak)

anon is referring to this post.

did i make this ask from a different account?? i feel like we type the same. also that last part looks like the one meme of the spongebob fish looking back... ykwim?? too lazy to find it.

i would like to apologize to all blondes about to read this fic. my condolences.

☆

scott is spraying stiles down, head-to-toe with SPF 50. the way the sunscreen looks on his skin as it soaks in is downright criminal, honestly, and it seems you're not the only one who's noticed.

there's a pretty blonde bitch staring at your boyfriend.

okay, well, wait a second there. she's not a bitch for admiring him. there's been no tell that he's taken.

yet.

you frown and take a drink of the margarita lydia asked you to hold. there's a lipstick stain on the can where her lips were imprinted, but that doesn't sway your gaze from the blonde as she takes notice to his newfound abs. they're not crazy chiseled like derek- but they're definitely there.

meanwhile, bless his heart, your idiot boyfriend is singing along to the song blasting from the speaker scott brought, and he's using the sunscreen bottle as a mic. he turns to you and points as he sings the lyrics like the performance is just for you, and this does make you smile.

"is that a fruity marg? for me?" he drops the sunscreen and takes lydia's drink from your hand. before you can protest, he's already taken a big swig, and there's a shine on his bottom lip when he swallows. "that is really good. wanna taste?"

"what? i already had a taste. besides, it's-"

and then he's kissing you, pressing the strawberry flavor into your mouth. you flush bright pink and he pulls away, bobbing his eyebrows at you with a grin. "good, right? sorry, you just look really nice in that swimsuit."

you're aware, with the way his eyes dip down to peruse over your cleavage and hips, that 'nice' is code for 'unjustly fuckable.' and you kinda wish he would say it. but alas, scott is calling his name to throw a football back and forth and you brought your book for a reason, so you part ways with a mutual look of longing.

from your spot on the beach, the veiw is great. the white sands, the pretty waves, your boyfriend's pecs, the blue sky. really, the scenery is hard to beat. stiles' hair is stuck to his forehead after getting dunked by isaac and liam. oh, and your book is good too. you've been stuck on the same page since you sat down.

and there's two younger teenage girls fawning over stiles under a canopy next to you guys. lydia swirls her half-empty drink and scoffs at their giggling, glancing at you. "don't tell me they're the ones getting to you."

"what ever could you mean?" you bat your lashes at her dramatically. "they're just young girls who can appreciate hard work on a man, anyway."

"those aren't young girls." lydia nods past you, eyes darting between something. when you turn your head to look, there's that gorgeous blonde again with what seems to be her friend. both of them are slim and tall, and totally hotter than you. and eyeing stiles, much more boldly this time.

"careful babe, you're showing your teeth." lydia turns back to her own book and languidly flips the page. you close your eyes and huff out a sigh.

"it's probably just the newfound biceps, right? and the hair. he deserves some flattery."

"go cool off, i can't focus with the smoke blowing out of your ears." lydia hums without looking up.

you stand. "i'm gonna go for a swim."

"watch for sharks."

you glare at the two women across the way. "yeah, i will."

but just as you begin to make your way to the ocean, the football the boys were throwing veers off course and rolls over to the two younger teenagers, stopping right at their bare feet. you pause, watching as if in slo-mo as stiles jogs up and apologizes, seeming oblivious to their blushing and giggling. one of them hands him the ball back, and he beams down at her gratefully. they squeal when he jogs off.

you don't realize your fists are clenched until you're already in the water. they're little girls! that is totally normal! why are you being so territorial, as if he's gonna even know they like him!

you splash some water on your face, calming at the gentle sway of the tide, the cool temperature of the ocean lapping at your skin. yeah, you're fine. it was just a blip. just a blip. you're chill.

you turn towards the beach to beckon lydia in, but halt as you see blonde bitch and her croonie talking to stiles closely. you're so not fucking chill right now-

cool it, take a breath. you clench your jaw and shut your eyes, grounding yourself. you will not play overbearing girlfriend just as soon as stiles is getting attention. he needs to know that you're not lying when you call him hot and sexy and pretty and everything else that is true. this is perfect confirmation.

your eyes open because you hear a pretty, high-pitched laugh. it's the blondie's equally-gorgeous friend, who tucks her hair back and bats her lashes at him. he rubs the back of his neck, which he usually only does when you get suggestive with him.

and then blondie caresses his perfect, freckled bicep.

oh hell no.

you storm out of the water and right up to their little conversation, grabbing stiles by the wrist. "hey, can i talk to you for a sec?"

but you're already moving, practically dragging him along behind you as you make your way to the edge of the open beach, where there's a large rock sectioning off what's open and what's not. you pull stiles around it, stomping through shallow water to reach a completely empty, private side of the beach.

you don't think about who could stumble over or how the long grass tickles your ankles- you're already pressing stiles up against the large rock and kissing him blind.

he makes an "mmph!" noise when you first crash your lips onto his, but enthusiastically returns the kiss with a hand sliding to the back of your head. you barely come up for air as you lap your tongue into his mouth roughly, hands splaying across his naked, smooth torso. you press your whole body up against his, needing more more more of him. you need him all over you, need him to know who he chose and why. your mouth travels to his neck, and it tastes salty sweet when you start the makings of a dark hickey.

"hoooly- i'm- i'm, uh, not suggesting you stop, like at all, but i am a bit curious on what i, uh- fuck- did to get here? j-just so i can..." his words trail off as your fingers trace underneath his swim trunks. a strangled noise leaves his throat when you press your hips into his growing erection, raking your teeth lightly across the new mark at the same time.

"stupid fucking girls practically throwing themselves at you," you mumble bitterly before going in for another heated kiss. "as if it's not obvious we're together."

he pulls back from the kiss and you open your eyes to glare at him, only to be met with a cocky smirk and wide eyes. "are you saying you're jealous?"

you pull your body off of his, shoving his shoulder lightly. "don't look so happy! she was practically stripping you naked with her eyes."

he cups your neck with his hand, reminding you of how big it is. stiles' eyes lose the self-assured glint and go soft, flitting all over your face as he parts his lips. "you're not mad, are you?"

"at you? no." you feel his other hand slide around your hip and over the top of your ass, pressing your body back up against his not-so-subtly. "at the girls practically prowling around you like you're some piece of meat? yes."

his eyes zero in on your lips as you lick them, furrowing his brow a bit like he has to focus in order to finish his thought. "i didn't even know she was flirting. i wouldn't have..."

but you don't let him finish, stretching up to kiss again and he deepens the kisses quickly, his hands pulling you in. you mouth down stiles' neck and chest, slowly sinking to your knees in front of him. before you got far, he was all breathy encouragement. but when you look up at him, face to face with his happy trail and low-hanging trunks, his jaw goes slack and his eyes glaze over in anticipation.

"oh, are we- are we doing-? okay, yep, yepyepyep i am very cool with this, yeah-" he helps you slide his trunks far down enough as you kiss along his subtle v-line. he sighs, brows upturned for you. "all yours, it's all yours."

you nod, smirking to yourself when he has to clamp a palm over his mouth as your hands begin what your tongue will soon replace.

☆

stiles stumbles out from behind the rock a little while after you, red in the face and littered in hickeys. scott turns to you with a scrunched up nose, feigning disgust. "dude. seriously?"

you blink at him, wide eyed. "what? i was just checking on a jellyfish sting!"

lydia raises her drink to you, not looking up from her book. "impressive time."

"you think so?" you smile sweetly at her.

"unless he's always that quick."

"you guys are disgusting." scott gags as he escapes you two.

☆

im gonna be late for work because of this

[topazadine]

Things that immediately turn me off a fiction book

I'm pretty picky with what I read, because the time I spend reading is time that I could spend writing. I generally know if I will like a book within the first chapter, and I feel no shame in giving up if I'm not vibing with it.

And no, I don't believe in the "oooh read further it warms up" because does it? Does it really? Do I want to waste time finding out?

Frankly, at this point in life, I read more nonfiction than fiction because there's just so. many. bad. books. that are getting published. Worse than fanfictions.

Anyway, here are the things that make me give up. Maybe hearing this will help you as you write your own masterpiece.

Too Many Proper Nouns

Three characters maximum in the first chapter or two. Do not throw dozens of people at me. I will get confused and give up. Let me get to know the main character, by themself or with a few of their closest companions, before you make me remember everyone else. And go deep with those characters! I want someone to stick with!

You can reference other characters, to create a sense of a deeper world, but do not go all-in on them. Make it clear that they are just there to provide a bit of context, and we don't have to remember them yet. We should only be meeting three characters maximum.

Throwing Us Immediately Into a Dramatic Action Point

This is controversial I know, but I hate when something immediately starts with a battle. I don't care if any of these people live or die. I don't know them. I haven't grown attached to any of them.

Even just a page or two to get to know them first will help. You can have them gearing up for a battle, thinking about what's going to happen, maybe talking to their friends, maybe checking their armor, whatever feels natural for them. But do not just start with stabbing people! I don't care about them yet!

Too Many Details

Many this is just me, but I simply do not care about every piece of armor your character is wearing. I don't need to hear a play-by-play of every single color of every single thing because I don't care. Pick out a few specific things for me to focus on and that's it. Stop overloading me with colors and patterns and armor styles.

Yes, yes, you've done your research on historically accurate gear. That's great. It would be good for a movie. But if I have to look up different armor pieces every five seconds, I am glossing over it and moving on. I don't care. I'm here for the story. If I wanted an infodump about medieval armor, I would simply pick up a nonfiction book (and maybe I will).

White Space Syndrome

Tell me what the overall scene looks like instead of all these hyperspecific details of certain objects, like carts or emblems or whatever. I want to know where I am!!

Don't just say "a forest." Tell me what kind of forest. Tell me if it's a young forest or an old snarly forest or a swampy forest or a cold alpine forest.

Don't just say "a castle." Tell me if it's a bustling castle or a gloomy castle or a rundown castle.

Don't just say "on the sea." Cold sea? Tropical sea? Far far away from land or is land in sight? These are the things I want!

Too Much Backstory

For the love of god do not explain the entire history of this culture in the first chapter. The first chapter is for getting to know the characters we're going to be following. You can introduce those things slowly and carefully as the story unfolds.

I get that fiction writers are delighted by all the worldbuilding (or research, in historical fiction) they have done. But the reader does not care right away. They need to get invested before all those little specifics matter at all. My eyes glaze over and I give up because I don't want to have to remember all of that all at once. It's like you just threw a college textbook at my face.

Plus, if you're doing third-person limited, you have to remember that the character is not going to be thinking all of that! They won't say all of that either! Because they know all of that!

Even a general on the brink of a major battle is not going to go "yes, this all dates back to when we took Iuanfutila back in 181, when the brave Iuanfutilans protested the rule of our Yawwbaawnwhryr leaders ...." They are focused on the present moment, and they may discuss the backstory later. Tell us what we need to know now because that is what the character would be thinking too.

"Oh, but Topazadine, how will the readers understand the context if I don't tell them??"

There's a battle. Two groups are at war. Or something was stolen. Or two people are fighting. Whatever. We understand those things. We can get the basic gist of how things are going to play out by just showing us these things happening. Then, as we have gotten a feel for the characters, you can tell us more about the context.

If you walk into a store that's being held up by an armed robber, do you give a shit about his backstory, or do you only care once that person has been arrested and you have to testify? I think we know the answer. You're not going "ohhh why is he doing this??" at first. You're going "HOLY SHIT THERE'S A GUN WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN NOW???" and then you'll care about the other stuff later.

Too Much Play-by-Play

I also do not need a play by play of a fight scene. I need to know the general movements, and then the overall atmosphere. I want to feel what the character feels rather than feel like I'm watching a football game.

Your reader will fill in the gaps if you give them enough information, but when you overload them with every single action, they're now trying to keep track of what went where instead of how this moment is supposed to feel. And now the action and drama has gone out of the writing because it's become a manual of fighting techniques.

Pointless Dumb Conversations

"Oh, could you turn around for me? I want privacy."

"Sure, of course, I'm a respectable man." Manfred knew that a lady-in-waiting would be unsettled by the presence of a strange man, so he wanted to be respectful.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Oh my god no one cares!!! No one!! We don't need this exchange. Cut it. This is stupid. Unless something is actually happening or something is meaningful about them saying this, shut up.

How to Not Write a Horrible First Chapter That Makes People Ragequit

Can you tell I'm mad today? I started and stopped three different books because they were all so bad.

Three characters max in the first chapter, with deep discussion of each. (One or two is better.) General appearance, demeanor, profession, whatever.

Restrain the urge to infodump! Dribble it out over the chapter!

Give the setting more attention than random little details that ultimately do not matter. I don't need to know the pattern of the curtains on the horsecart that's about to be burnt. Don't care.

Do not give a play by play of every single action that a character takes because it's boring and no one cares.

In media res is great but do NOT start with a big climactic intense battle or fight or whatever because we don't know these characters and don't know who to root for (or why we should care).

Your character is not going to give us a history lesson in why this conflict is happening. Do not do it yourself either. Give us just enough to get intrigued and no more. Think how your characters would think and what they would prioritize in discussions.

If a conversation is just pleasantries and has no purpose, drop it, we don't care.

[pinksugarscrub]

O Sweet Juliet

Tom Holland! Peter Parker x fem! reader

Inspired by @heihei.edits on tik tok! Thank you again for your permission to make a story of my own. Thank you to @froggheadd for allowing me to use their art 💕 (i'll upload the banner asap!)

Word count: 946

~

“Pete?”

Your voice so soft it's barely above a whisper. Peter immediately perks up and drops his pencil. Like he's been waiting to hear your voice. His eyes search yours as he smiles.

“Yeah?”

“What’s this?”

Scooting your stool closer you ignore the loud squeak it makes across the lab's tile. Peter meanwhile slides his study guide away to the edge of the desk to make room for your textbook, English.

The pages contrast the formulas and theories Peter has been studying for over the past hour.

Normally the two of you would use a timer to keep from overloading your brains. But with finals coming up and an important mission soon after, you had to cram as much information as you could. Ned would also have joined but declined under the excuse his Lola needed him.

He really was your wingman when it came to Peter. You did however, owe him a cartilage of web fluid to mess around with for missing today's study session.

You trace your finger along stanzas before finally reaching line fifty-two. Reciting it before referring back to the essay prompt for your last paper.

“I understand Shakespeare was using pathos but how exactly does that connect to this?”

Peter leaned over you and despite the close proximity he felt so far away. His chin almost resting on your shoulder as he scanned the text. Romeo and Juliet, a “classic”. What? You can't help it if MJ degrades the play every chance she gets.

“Well…” He licked his lips before pulling away. Flipping through the pages as he continued. “The story is about love being blind, right?”

You nod as you look at him quizzically but still with enough patience that you don't interrupt.

“Young love specifically.” Peter finally stops on the prologue. Sticky notes littered in the margins much like the rest of your textbook. Definitions and context mostly.

“Shakespeare sets up this narrative from the beginning.”

The rest of his words fall on deaf ears as you admire him. Peter hasn't noticed that when concentrated, he taps his foot incessantly. Biting his nails as he articulates his next thought. His lashes fluttering remind you of how jealous you are over them.

“So…” you clear your throat as you look back to the textbook. What little words you did catch clicking together like cogs. “By setting up how completely infatuated they are-”

“-their deaths become the payoff,” he completes. Smiling even brighter as he notices that look of understanding flashing in your eyes. One he's seen all too often when you work on Stark tech.

He thinks you're just as bad as his mentor when it comes to your inability to take breaks. The restlessness you get from not being able to solve a miscalculation that leads to midnight coffee runs to the seven-eleven around the corner. Not that he's complaining. If anything, he hopes you'll get the craving for something sweet so he can whisk you away. Have you all to himself without the prying eyes of the other avengers.

Peter's quite aware Tony is hovering through the surveillance cameras. He wouldn't even be surprised if the rest of the team was watching them like their own personal home movie. Frankly he's tired of getting teased, especially by Thor.

“Ok…Ok so-” You shift closer and Peter feels his heart lurch in his chest. It's like you affect him so much his own body can't take being near you.

Would you mind if he peppered kisses along your cheeks when it gets too cold? Hold your hands as he stares at you like you're the most precious thing in his life.

He sometimes wonders if you feel the same way but with how easy you seem to make these interactions he thinks not. Maybe you know enough that these teasing touches are a way to torture him.

“-the scene where they first meet. That's the main foundation for how the reader sees them as a couple.”

Peter nods as he tries not to lean in and kiss you. His eyes dancing between your lips and the pencil you keep chewing on.

“Being star crossed lovers heightens the effect and makes us root for them,” you mumble,“and again is why their deaths are so effective at evoking pathos.”

“Right,” he chuckles.

You lean back but not to far. Stretching your arms over your head as you look down at the mess of notes and candy wrappers you made on Tony's desk. If anything it's to hide how hot your cheeks feel.

“Cool, thanks Pete.” You sneak a glance at him with a quick smile before quickly doting down the major points of your conversation. Ignoring how your heart races once he finally looks away.

“Of course,” he hums. Mind lost on the homework he was doing previously. All these numbers mean squat when you're sitting next to him. His grades would absolutely suffer if he had to share more than one period with you.

Peter must have reread ‘what is the missing angle?’ a dozen times between looking over at you while you admire his reflection through the lab doors.

Somewhere Thor is handing over a wad of cash while Natasha grins over her newfound prize. She gives it until prom season when Peter will have no choice but to ask you out on a date while Tony says it'll be less than a week because that's when the mission is. Adrenaline does something to you y'know? And Bruce…well Bruce just smiles against his coffee mug as he sees your hand reach out for Peter's under the desk. He hopes you like the anniversary gift he helped Peter pick out.

[zumek0]

draft 04; dostoevsky, f.

↪︎ fluff, fedya having a soft spot for his lover, reader is sick, gn reader, written with a fem reader in mind tho, references to irl dostoevsky’s life, surprise angst at the end, mentions of death.

↝ summary: when you become ill and are unable to fall asleep, he reads to you. the action feeling both familiar and distant to him.

You sneeze. Four times, actually.

You getting sick was highly inconvenient for Fyodor, as it prevented you from fulfilling your duties as a member of the Rats in the House of the Dead. He had to disregard plans and work his way around being down not only a member, but also the best assassin in the organization. Not to mention how it not only affected his organization, but also the Decay of Angels.

As annoyed as he was with the whole situation, seeing you in such a miserable state didn't bring him any kind of joy. On the contrary, he felt his heart hurt when he saw your teary eyes and heard your hoarse voice. Not that he would ever let you know that.

He stands up from his office set up and heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He can't concentrate, so he decides that he might as well check up on you. That is, of course, because he needs you to get better so you can get back to work immediately, and not because he heard you cough a little too much and a little too hard.

He places the glass on the bedside table. He hears you thank him weakly. "Are you okay?" he asks uninterestedly but scans your face for any kind of discomfort. "Tired..." you sneeze after you answer.

"Then sleep." He hands you a tissue, which you barely muster enough energy to take.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

Fyodor sighs and then leaves the room. Your eyes start tearing up again, this time because you want him to stay with you. The whole image is comical: a killer as cold and ruthless as you, crying miserably because their boyfriend wouldn't spend time with them? Even if someone were to see it with their own eyes, it would be hard to believe.

Fyodor returns to the room with a book in hand. The cover torn and creased from the passage of time. It is Fyodor's favorite. Even if he rarely touched it, you knew he held a great fondness for that book in particular.

He lays down in the bed and looks at you expectantly. While your moves are slow, he waits patiently for you to make yourself comfortable against his chest. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked away slowly..."

His soft voice and regular heartbeat lulled you asleep.

A young dark haired man lies kneeling at the foot of his bed. His head is hung low and his fingers are intertwined. After he finishes his prayer with an "Amen", he gets up and heads for his mother's room.

He enters quietly and finds his father already there, sitting on a chair by his mother's side. Her head turns upon hearing the door opening and a warm yet tired smile makes home on her face.

"Fedyen'ka." Her voice, although strained and tired, sounds happy to see him. "Come here, my angel. Your father and I have something for you."

He is given a book.

On a late night while talking to his mother, he had entrusted her with the knowledge of his passion for literature. Talking about some of the books he had managed to get his hands on, weather by acquaintances of his lending him some, or by the old man in the shoe shop who let him stay a couple of hours after his work ended just so he could read some of the books that he kept in the backroom of his store. That night his mother promised him that for his sixteenth birthday, she would get him a book of his own.

She had never broken a promise, yet there were still two months until his birthday. Fyodor understood at that moment that his mother was probably going to die before that.

A simple "Thank you." is all he could muster.

That night he was unable to sleep. His father went out to tend to some business, so the house would've been completely silent if it weren't for the coughs of his mother.

He gets out of bed, grabbing the book from the wooden dresser next to the door to his room. When he enters his mother's room, the coughing stops.

"Oh, Fedechka, did I wake you up?"

"No, mother." He takes a glass of water from a table nearby and puts it up to her lips. She takes a few sips. "Are you unable to sleep?" She nods.

He leaves the glass back on the table and grabs his book. His mother's gaze follows him as he moves to sit on the chair where her husband usually sat beside her. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July..."

She falls asleep with a smile on her face as she listens to her son's voice.

Two days later, Maria Fedorovna Dostoevsky would pass away.

Fun fact: i spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to understand which Russian pet names and nicknames are most common, just to end up not using any because in my head they’re already speaking Russian.

If you recognize what he's reading, ur hot. Ahhh I'm so in love with fedya, but i’m not sure if i like how this turned out...

— han.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Can you talk about your thoughts on hinny? I have no problem with people shipping it but to me personally it just doesn't work. It feels like Rowling tried too hard or maybe just wasn't good at writing romance and messed it up. Maybe it was too rushed? The ship doesn't work for me but I'd love to hear your views.

Okay, sorry it took a while to answer this, I actually have a lot of thoughts and I have posts on some of them that I hope to get out soon-ish. I also wanted to go back to the books to make sure I'm not talking out of my ass. But I don't like Hinny, never did. And my reasons are kinda divided into three categories.

Disclaimer: I don't have anything against anyone who ships hinny, it's just really not my thing and I don't see it working with the way I see their characters.

And that's like the core of it. I just don't see Harry and Ginny as compatible on a character level. That and their relationship never really read as believable to me in the books.

The 3 categories I mentioned are:

Harry's character

Firstly, I think Harry is gay. Not bi, but gay. I think he was never actually attracted to a woman and I have a whole post to prove it. So, because that's how I read his character, I just can't really see him with any girl.

(Now, I don't think JKR intended for Harry to come off as gay, but he did)

Secondly, he never thought about Ginny, like, up until book 6, and even during large portions of book 6, he just isn't thinking about Ginny as a potential romantic interest. And when he does think about Ginny in the final two books it never reads like he really likes her. It reads like they decided they are dating, but I don't think Harry knows why he supposedly likes her. He just decided he does, but doesn't know why. It was kind of the same with Cho, where he said he had a crush on her and was nervous around her, but if you asked Harry what he likes about her, his answer would be: "Ehh...."

Like, Harry doesn't really seem to know why he's dating Ginny, and neither do I. It's just how it's written.

2. Ginny's character

So, this is again my opinion, but I don't like Ginny. I just don't like her character. I wish her off the page whenever she talks.

And, when it comes to shipping, for me, I need to find both the characters involved interesting and fun for me to explore to ship them together and care about the pairing. As I don't like Ginny and don't really care for her, I can't really ship her with anyone, not really. It's not even like I hate her (not the way I hate Dumbledore), I just find a lot of her actions and behavior iffy and she annoys me more often than not.

I'm not going to list everything I don't like about Ginny (some of it appears in the rest of this post). But her treatment of Fluer, for example, really soured her character to me. Like, sure, Ginny's young, but, she's 15, and by that point, I think she should take responsibility for being awful to Fluer who was nothing but nice to all of them. Envy is not a good look for Ginny.

3. How they are portrayed together

Like I mentioned in the Harry section, their romance just never really felt there to me. The descriptions were off and left me feeling annoyed at their scenes together more than anything else.

Again, I'm writing a more comprehensive post about it, but the gist of it is that Harry's thoughts about Ginny in books 6 and 7 are weirdly detached for a supposed crush at best or outright uncomfortable for me to read at worst.

Now, we know Harry can describe characters he finds attractive in greater detail. There is none of that detail with Ginny. He only mentioned her hair color and that her hair is long and smells nice. Like, he doesn't talk about her eye color, her facial structure, eye shape (like he does sometimes with characters he does find attractive) — nothing. He doesn't even call her pretty once! At least he referred to Cho Chang as pretty twice in the series.

In the books there is never a scene (not even one) that convinces me they should be together. Like, they have no chemistry. They kinda remind me of Ron and Lavender tbh. They make out and are present in the same space often, but they never talk. Not really. I don't think Ginny actually knows Harry all that well because he never honestly talks to her about anything real. They don't really have chemistry or a relationship, they're just together. At least, that's how I always saw them.

And yes, Harry has his jealousy moments (that are portrayed so weirdly I always narrow my eyes at them to make sure they were actually there, but that's a whole other post about Harry's chest monster of jealousy), but he still doesn't really explain what he finds in Ginny. He doesn't mention she's attractive or pretty at any point, nor does he mention anything he particularly likes about her personality (except that she doesn't weep like Cho and is good at Quidditch. Neither of which are particularly good basis for a relationship).

Like, Ginny mentions why she likes Harry and that she does multiple times. Harry by contrast, just feels so incredibly uninvolved in his own relationship, to me.

Also, personally, I just find the setup of their relationship iffy. Like Ginny outright says she never gave up on Hary and always knew they'd end up together. It means, that since she was 11 (or earlier), she was crushing on Harry, never gave up on her crush, and considered them ending up together fate. She dated other guys to make Harry jealous and pay attention to her, and that's just really gross. I don't like her long obsessive crush on Harry or her treatment of the other guys she dated on her way to get Harry.

Proof of that, for those wondering:

“I never really gave up on you,” she [Ginny] said. “Not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 647)

She literally said she dated other guys so Harry would take notice of her. That just grosses me out.

So, no, I don't like Hinny (or Ginny).

[thewertsearch]

GG: i think you are projecting your own attitude on to others […] GG: rose just sent me a code for a crystal ball, shes my friend and is basically the best! […] CA: its probably a trap i wwouldnt trust her CA: she is a cunnin and treacherous sort trust me i knoww her type GG: wait do you have a thing for her too??? GG: did she reject you or something?

Annihilate him, Jade. This would be a good time to unleash that rage you've been cultivating.

CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike

This dude's on some Methods of Rationality type shit.

I'm not sure why Eridan is on a crusade against magic. He's been insisting it was fake since his original introduction page, and it's pretty clear he has some sort of complex about it. Is there some unseen history here that we're not yet privy to?

GG: wow what are you talking about CA: so really you should be honored to inherit my old callin CA: both my armaments and my feud

To be fair to Eridan, he is accomplishing something useful here, even if it's by accident. Jade needs to get that rifle in her pen-pal's hands in order to fulfil the Endgame Bunny's time loop.

Recalling Eridan’s introduction reminds me that this is one of the most powerful riflekind weapons in existence. This should imply that top-tier weapons cost tens of millions of grist...

...but we just saw a weapon that costs much, much more.

Maybe the Proton Cannon has the same damage as the Crosshairs, but it also has an incredibly broken non-combat use.

GG: i have seen this before […] GG: i am very sure its the same rifle included with johns present […] CA: probably a cheap imitation of the original […] GG: i did not provide the weapons! GG: my penpal did […] GG: we worked on it together but he supplied the bunnys weapons GG: im pretty sure hes from the future! CA: wwhy GG: because he said hes my grandson

Really?

I suppose being raised by a Sburb veteran would explain why he uses terms like 'boonbuck' in casual speech - but almost nothing else makes sense when viewed through this lens.

If Pen-Pal is Jade's grandson, then he should be from decades in the future - presumably long after the game has ended. This doesn't sound like a problem, until you remember some of the references he made.

As much as it pains me to admit it, the Earth is probably gone for good - which means that any descendants of our Players will be raised somewhere else. Why would someone presumably raised in a completely different universe be so familiar with Earth's culture?

You could argue that he picked up his love of Earth movies from one of the surviving Earthlings, such as adult John - although that raises its own issues, because PP talks to John like he's never met him before. Maybe he died young, and passed his love of movies to PP posthumously - but as you can see, we're really having to stretch things to make this make sense.

Plus, there's an even bigger problem - namely, his 1920s 'accent'. None of the surviving Earthlings have it, and it's not like he just developed it spontaneously. If he was raised by Jade or her child, why does he talk like her grandfather would?

See, I'm still sure that PP is connected directly to Grandpa, and may well be the man himself - which means either PP is lying, or there's something more complicated going on here.

We don't know anything about Grandpa's life after he fled the Crocker household. If he was somehow raised by an adult, post-Sburb Jade, then he could consider her his grandmother, while still talking and acting like the Grandpa Harley we know. Plus, it would explain why he acts like he's from the past, but knows about the future. He already has a history of time travelling - maybe he's been doing it since he was a kid.

Similar to my old theory about Spades Slick, this one is a little too convoluted to be 100% true - but still I think there's something to this idea. Being raised by Jade would neatly explain where he got the bunny's weapons...

Ugh, I don't know! This Pen-Pal really is the biggest curveball this comic has thrown at me. I need to think it over some more.

[viktoriaashleyyx]

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet. Contains slight violence, poisons, broken bones. Also profanity. I'm not sure what else to tw if I miss something let me know. This is my first fic. I honestly don't know how to find word count, but it's roughly 4 pages on word docs. Criticism welcome. Rhysands Sister is back and she's pissed. Rhysand gets his ass whooped and Tamlin gets shown love. Enjoy.

Ch 2. Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10

Tarquin BC

Chapter 1:

I crash landed on a stone surface. A balcony of sorts? It was well built if it was, considering how long I've been falling, I'm shocked I didn't crash right through it. I know now that making a deal with the gods is a lot like making a deal with a damn djin. 

“Who goes there??” A booming male voice barked. I could hear swords drawn. Fuck where am I? My ears were still ringing, vision blurred, and chest heavy from the impact. I blinked my eyes open to find a winged male looming over me. Another illyrian? Have I finally made it home? Fuck, then that means I am in the night court. Damnit, 7 fucking courts in Prythia and I just happen to land here. At my brother's court. 

This ones expression shifted from threatening to complete shock as his gaze landed on my eyes. “Sky?” 

At my brother's court and at his fucking house, Freya has a sick sense of humor. I slowly sat up, ignoring the hand the illyrian extended to me. 

“Your wing!” He gasped. So thats what that throbbing pain was. My wing seemed to have been snapped in the fall. “You need a healer, go get Madja” he commanded the other brute. 

“Don't bother” I dismissed, standing up slowly. I pulled a small glass vial out of my pocket, a healing potion, I always kept a few on hand, never know when you're gonna need it. I downed the bitter red liquid as I've done a thousand times and grabbed the dagger off my hip. I put the handle in my mouth and bit down on it as I grabbed my own wing and straightened out the bone. I held it right for about a minute until the potion worked its magic. It hurt like crazy but I was careful not to show these idiots, the fear and shock on their faces was satisfying if I am being honest. 

“I'm guessing you are Azriel and Cassian, though I can't tell which is which” I admitted, trying to seem just polite enough to leave. 

The one next to me spoke first “I'm Azriel, he's Cassian” okay, Azriel short hair, Cassian long hair “this is Mor and Amren and she is Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court” 

“So my brother is dead?” I had hoped my excitement would come off as concern. 

“No, no, they rule together, as equals” Cassian spoke

“Got it” this conversation is dragging. I need to leave. 

“It's so nice to meet Rhysands sister, we thought you were dead, I'd heard so much about you” Feyre gushed, “Rhys is out on important business at the moment but he should be back soon.” I had no use or interest in this small talk. 

“How old are you?” I looked at her as if to study the young thing in front of me. I was never good at pleasantries. I spent a good while in isolation and I tend to just blurt out the questions on my mind. 

“I am 21” Feyre replied sharply, yep I angered her with my lack of class. 

“Ew, 21 years? Ugh, my brother always did like them unreasonably young.” I'm just gonna keep going with it, hopefully she'll throw me out. 

“My age is not a disability” Feyre snapped. 

“It's adorable that you think that.” I'm in too deep. Oops. “Anyway, I am sorry I crashed into your home, I had little control, but I would like to leave now.” 

“You will apologize and bow to your high lady.” Cassian growled. Azriel stepped in front of the door. 

“She is not my high lady, I am not a citizen of your court, in fact, I am starting to feel like a prisoner.” It's not lost on me that I have bore the title of Queen, multiple times. In both cases I have dismantled the monarchy entirely, setting up a system in which the people vote on who leads them. Her title meant nothing to me. I bow to those deserving, not the one who rely solely on birthright. But she doesn't need to know this. I have more important things on my mind than to argue with a child "I will request one more time, you move and allow me to leave.” 

“Or what?” Azriel snapped. Unmoving. 

I did not want to show this much of my hand just yet, knowing this magic is not native to Prythia. But, if they want to twist my arm, so be it. A swirling purple circle opened up under me and I fell though, closing it quickly behind me. Portals were my favorite magic to do, in more cases than once it ensured my freedom.

Landing softly on my feet, I took in my surroundings. Cool air, rolling green hills, and the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, the Spring court. I was finally home. I eventually spotted the manor I spent so much of my time at as a child. Mother didn't make me train with the illyrians as she did my brother because she feared the treatment I would receive, also by the time I came along she had befriended the ladies of the other courts. We would spend weeks here at times, the children would play together and the mothers would discuss adult things we didn't care about. One of those things being alliances, and what better way to encourage an alliance between Spring and Night than by an arranged marriage.

I didn't mind them encouraging me to play with the cute blonde shapeshifter. He was kind and silly and only a couple years older than me. The other kids, mainly Autumn boys, were rough and volatile, and I just had no interest in what they considered fun. When I would get flustered by my wings knocking things over and getting in the way, the youngest Spring boy would remind me how beautiful they were, or how powerful they made me. The few times he would get a chance to practice his fiddle, I would dance and twirl, even if it was just the arpeggios. He was the 3rd born, and I the second and a girl, they didn't expect either of us to become High lord. 

The manor was about a mile away, I shot up another portal to the door, I was tired after all and, if I'm being honest, a little excited to be back.

When I reached the door it was broken in half and wide open. I creeped inside, cautiously. It looked to be abandoned. Dirt and dust coated the walls and floors, priceless artifacts shattered and books thrown from the shelves. I noticed claw marks in the furniture. “Please just be alive, after everything, I can’t be too late.” I whispered to myself. My heart sank as I looked around. 

Further into the dilapidated manor, I heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen. “Get out.” a tired weak growl. I ran to the entrance and just as I rounded the corner I saw my brother's boot kick in the chest of.. Tamlin. He began spitting up blood. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” I hissed at my brother. 

Rhysand whipped around towards me, Tamlin looked up from the floor, eyes wide. 

“You're alive??” Rhysand darted towards me and I shoved him to the ground, rushing to Tamlins side. I knelt down beside him, held his head up from where he laid on the floor and pulled another glass vial out of my pocket. 

“It'll be bitter but swallow” I commanded gently. He didn't argue, he took the healing potion and I kissed his forehead as I laid him back down gently to address my brother. 

I stood tall. Nothing but pure rage in my violet eyes toward my brother. I always hated how much we looked alike. “THIS is the ‘important business’ you told your wife you had to take care of?” 

“I thought he killed you, he hurt my mate.” Rhysand admitted, no remorse. 

“And I finally make it back home after 300 years in exile to find you kicking mine” I state through gritted teeth. 

Rhysands eyes narrowed “your what?” It was obvious he wanted me to retract my statement, not going to happen. I didn't waste my time away, I knew I was more powerful than all of Prythia, I had to be, in case I had returned to Amarantha still terrorizing the place. 

“You heard me.” I maintained his gaze. In a split second he lunged for me and I reached my hand out into the small portal that appeared to my side. I grabbed one of the curved blades I was gifted by the warriors I previously trained with. These blades were specifically enchanted to drip poisons into the wounds they create. This one? Bloodbane, or as Prythians call it, “Faebane.” I slashed him across the face in a controlled move, just enough to leave a scar and allow the poison to sink in. 

He screamed in pain and looked back up at me. My eyes fell entirely black and cracks formed across my face as I spit my curse at him, lifting up his chin with my sword to make him look me in the eye “IF YOU, OR ANY OF YOUR LACKEYS, ENTER THE SPRING COURT BORDERS AGAIN, ALL OF THE AIR WILL BE DRAWN FROM YOUR LUNGS, AND IF YOU CANNOT GET OUT BEFORE YOU PASS OUT WE WILL FEED YOUR BODIES TO THE PIGS.” I relaxed, my face returning to normal. “Now get out.” A portal opened below him and he fell, leaving him only halfway up the steps to the House of Wind. 

I turned my attention back to Tamlin, he had sat up, the healing potion having done its job, looking up at me with a million different emotions on his face, shock, fear, concern, confusion and relief. I sat down next to him, draping my legs over his. He embraced me like I was going to disappear any minute. “You're alive. Or I am dead, I do not care as long as I have you in my arms again.” he sighed as we just sat there on the floor. 

I awoke the daemati powers I hardly used as I pressed my forehead to his. A gentle knock on the walls of his mind, and he allowed me in. I shared the memories I held dear for all these years, of us playing in the fields of Spring, the days he would spend with me in the gallery his mother gifted me, watching me paint, the mischief we would get into and the giggles we would share. His face relaxed into a soft smile as I kissed his cheek.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@ladythornofrivia asked to be tagged❤️

[verpineshatterrifle]

okay so your post abt alpha-17 and the other alpha arcs got me thinking (and im sorry for using you as sw google but in my mind you're Alpha Legends Lore mutual) who ARE the oldest clones? I feel like everything got... really confusing with a bunch of super secret REAL first clones getting shuffled into the order. is boba the oldest? in my mind it goes 1 boba 2 nulls 3 alphas 4 the rest of the initial clones that obi-wan saw in aotc but I have no bloody clue 😭

I AM HONORED TO BE YOUR LEGENDS LORE GOOGLE MUTUAL

ok so. sources probably conflict bc this is star wars, of course they do. what i care about is repcomm so we're just gonna go with that as our primary source with wookieepedia as secondary sources

first we gotta get some dates. unfortunately star wars doesnt really give months for most dates but years is still a starting place. these dates are all pulled from wookieepedia, legends page when applicable/different

also we're using geonosis as our date reference point since the timeline is honestly so hard to work with

order 66 happens 19 bby

1st battle of geonosis, 22 bby, the clone wars are 3 years long

boba fett's birth date is listed as 32 bby, meaning he was 10 at geonosis. cody, rex, ordo, fi, spar, and sull are all also listed with a birth date of 32 bby, so we're down to a difference of months here. essentially they're all the same age though- boba himself, troopers, nulls, commandos, and alphas

I REPEAT. ALPHA IS NOT SIGNIFICANTLY OLDER THAN THE CORE OF THE GAR. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. HE ISNT THE ONLY ALPHA EITHER.

but who's actually oldest? and is wookieepedia entirely correct? this is the part where i open repcomm and ignore everything else. i don't even know if anything else contradicts because i'm not checking

chapter 1 of triple zero, kal has just arrived on kamino. it's eight years before geonosis, and 2 years into the cloning program

(ALSO ITS SO FUCKING GREAT THAT THIS IS KAL'S INTRODUCTORY LINE LMAOOO <3)

he does see a lot of clone babies in gestation vats, just like we see in attack of the clones as well as cadets of varying ages- the kaminoans continue producing troopers through the entire ten years of the cloning program, so yes, the 'first generation' (clones deployed at geonosis) ARE older than a lot of later clones. but we dont really have a lot of those later clones as named characters as far as i know

anyways

the nulls appear to kal to be 4 or 5 (also peep jango apparently being legitimately shocked by them)

chronologically the nulls are NEARLY two, which probably means like 1 year and 11 months or something

(pause for me to cry about this entire scene, 'kal was instantly proud of all of them,' 'how would you like to be called ordo, he was a mandalorian warrior,' kal teaching them to embrace their fear as a mechanism their body uses to help protect them, but this is gonna be long enough as it is)

and then we have jango showing up with boba. no real indication of if boba or the nulls are actually older, but it's implied that they're very very close in actual age, if not the same age. we also get mention of the commandos and the alphas.

now, this is now just down to what i think and what makes sense to me. the whole point of the nulls is that they were experimental units- the kaminoans wanted to see if tinkering with the genome would be worth it, and ultimately decided it wasn't. it would actually make sense to me if the nulls were at least a year or two older than the rest of the clones- the kaminoans need time to see if their experiment panned out, don't they? but the nulls are also 10 at geonosis

while the nulls have been flash-trained and put through some trial runs at this point, it's indicated that the alphas and commandos aren't quite ready for training yet. this could be because the alphas and commandos are just a bit too young yet, it could be that the kaminoans put the nulls through training at a younger age than they're doing for non-experimental units. not totally clear

this is another point that is important to me: multiple times the nulls pass for clone troopers. i keep seeing headcanons of them being noticeably taller/bigger than other clones and while it is true that they're canonically slightly heavier, i think the difference is probably like 10-20 pounds, most people cannot easily tell the difference. ordo puts on corr's armor and just notes that it's slightly tighter than he's used to. mereel infiltrated kamino in trooper armor unnoticed, even while directly speaking to a kaminoan

here is my opinion on it: -the nulls and boba are basically the same age -the alphas were created next, but a few months after. by this point the kaminoans had decided (possibly because of the nulls' high mortality rate in gestation) that the alphas would be fully unaltered aside from the accelerated aging. the nulls' behavior 'issues' proved to the kaminoans that this was the right call -the commandos were created at the same time or shortly after the alphas. we're talking within weeks if not days. they have minor genetic changes to work better as a team but that's about it. -the troopers then begin production, now that the kaminoans have lots of practice altering jango's genome. heavy alteration for better social cooperation and obedience. -we're talking a span on like 4 months for all of this

you could say that ordo's gray hairs support the nulls being maybe 4-6 months older than everybody else, but i really think he is just that stressy, and there's also book evidence for clones actually aging at variable rates depending on how much stress they're under

quick note for omega: i think her existence is just insane and she's only here because disney was making a children's show and needed a child character (and girl so they can get inclusivity points), but i could see her being made anywhere from at the same time as boba to up to 3 years later. her wookieepedia page doesn't say, because the bad batch never bothered to give us any concrete information on... anything.

WE ARENT EVEN TOUCHING ON EMERIE. WHAT THE FUCK

[healingagoddess]

Have you seen that picture of the cast that's like "gay high school kid hanging out with the entire english department during lunch"? well I kinda thought of this when I saw it but I'm shy...

-

"Miss Harkness?"

Agatha made sure to draw her head up and lean it against the back of the chair. She flicked the page of her magazine letting it fall slowly (drama queen). "Yes...William."

But he took no offense. He anticipated the needless display of annoyance, could even take it for what it was--all show. "I made those copies you wanted and delivered them to the bio lab."

Miss Harkness gave him one more drawn look before lowering her feet from the coffee table, slapping the low heels of her boots on the laminate flooring. "And you want your next mission, I assume."

The young man slid the rest of his lanky body into the teacher's lounge. Despite being told he was allowed - while he was shadowing her! - he still held a respect for the space that was not his as a student. "Miss Kale told me to come find you."

Miss Harkness rolled her eyes. "She didn't have anything for you?"

He shook his head. "She told me to tell you to stop 'using the children as your personal gophers'."

Agatha finally rose form her chair, letting her magazine fall to the floor without a care. She had the time to mimic the cadence of the words with a high, whiny voice as she dumped out what he presumed was an old, forgotten coffee. "Fine, Teen, back to the dungeon."

She meant her classroom at the other end of the building. Miss Harkness famously referred her classroom being the furthest from the teachers' lounge as banishment. She would sing a little song about walking the witches' road on her way.

It did kind of slap.

William kept pace with her. She walked with a fierceness to her, but she was actually shorter than her body language would say. She swung her legs ahead of her, hands in her pockets. "And how are your other classes going?"

"Good, I think," he volunteered readily. He kept his hands half balled into fists at his sides. "Miss Calderu said she liked my last report, although I think she forgot what book it was on."

"Sounds like that kook," she laughed under her breath. A roaming pack of younger students bustled past them, jostling each other loudly. She didn't turn her head but snapped her fingers, "watch it!"

The rowdy kids gave her a look but ultimately did calm their movements as they continued on. William turned his head from them and back to his chosen mentor. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get them to listen to you," he gestured vaguely behind them as they continued their walk to the stairwell. "Every time I see Miss Gulliver say something they kind of...don't listen to her."

"Wu-Gulliver is young, and she's too nice." He wasn't so sure that was a bad thing, but Agatha continued. "Respect is one thing, but you really want these hoodlums to listen, they need just a little bit of fear."

William tried not to let it show that he wasn't sure how the 5'5'' and slight woman beside him was scary. He'd heard her yell, sure, it was a thing to behold. But scary?

"Don't blow a gasket thinking so hard, Billy-Boy," Agatha laughed fully, snorting a little in the middle of it. "You don't need to look tough to be scary. Even a divine being such as myself can earn a reputation. Look at Miss Vidal."

Now, that, was intriguing. William did his best to seem uninterested. "What about her?"

Agatha remained quiet until they were able to walk past the devil's classroom in question. It was decorated for Halloween, despite it being November. It was just always decorated that way.

There was still some time left for lunch hour, but she was watching over some detentions; Miss Vidal always had the highest number of disciplinary cases. And she struck true, genuine fear into anyone unlucky enough to catch her eye.

Even with the door closed, it was easy to hear her slap her desk and bellow, "you talking? You little rats utter a single word while you're in here and I'll have you write each other's eulogies."

William tried not to squirm. Miss Vidal was on the younger side for the staff, and in the beginning of the year, most tried to take advantage of that. But she immediately proved that she was not to be pushed around. "How does she get away with saying stuff like that? Aren't there, like, rules about what teachers can say?"

Agatha shrugged, watching through the door window as the teacher within found it necessary to get up from her desk and walk over to her wards. "Yeah, but it only really matters if a parent complains. And she's got a stack of complaints as high as you, bean pole."

William rolled his eyes just to himself. "If she's got so many complaints, why is she still teaching here?"

Again, Agatha shrugged it off, But she adjusted herself to watch as much of the show as she could, positively glued to the back of the Spanish teacher with her eyes. "None of 'em stick. She's new but she came here from the district. She's not exactly out on her ass even if the school does fire her just for the public optics."

So, she had less to lose, could risk more. That actually made sense. Miss Calderu had been at the school the longest, and she was always nice to the kids. Miss Kale was a teacher for a day job, but she always talked about how she ran a skincare business at the weekend markets and online and stuff. Miss Gulliver did her best as the music teacher, even for kids not interested in it, but he was pretty sure her mom was famous or something.

"What do you have to lose?"

Agatha got this wild kind of look in her eyes. He could see a hint of that scariness she kept mentioning, but there was something else in there. He could see something kind of sad, fragile almost.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"What?!"

William jumped out of his own skin as the door whipped open without any warning whatsoever. He hadn't even heard her walk towards the door. "I-I'm sorry Miss Vidal!"

Agatha didn't twitch. She didn't blink, she didn't move, she didn't breathe. Her hands were still in her pockets, and this grin came over her. "Come on, Rio, I came to show the kid the way real teachers get it done."

Miss Vidal's eyes were scary. She was completely blank in expression, like if he tried to read her mind it would just be haunted house screaming. "Leave him with me if you really want him to learn what it takes to teach."

William blinked as he found himself being pushed back. It was only an inch or two, but he looked down to find Miss Harkness had put her forearm up to lean on the door frame, putting herself between him and Miss Vidal, even just by a hair. It almost seemed protective.

"Easy, Tiger," she smiled at the younger teacher, "I've still got stuff to get in his head. You can have a go at him later--if he asks."

Miss Vidal shifted as well, looking at him with wide eyes. It reminded him of when a cat would stare into his soul. It seemed innocent, but there was something menacing about it. "Fine, but I'll get my hands on him eventually, Agatha."

"Hm," Agatha pursed her lips at her before leaning up and away, somewhat elbowing him back with her. She put her hands back into her pockets, "te veo."

The Spanish teacher looked impressed, and maybe entertained. She put her hand on the doorknob again, nodding cordially as well, "Querida."

William followed Miss Harkness, once again on the 'witches' road' to her classroom. He was almost 100% completely, totally sure that he had witnessed some hardcore flirting happening. But that couldn't be, because that would be insane. Miss Harkness and Miss Vidal?

"Whatever you're thinking, think it quieter, Kaplan."

The sharp and biting remark was much more what he expected. So much so, that he was able to shake off the odd exchange and smile again. "Why did you agree to let me shadow you?"

Agatha, like before, made sure to inhale really long, and exhale even longer. She needed him to know how annoyed she was by the question. "Why didn't you ask to shadow Mommy-Dearest?"

He gave her a look. She gave it right back to him. "Being teacher's pet is different. I wanna learn."

"You can learn from any of the bitches in here, kid. Teachers love a little pet--makes the rest of them easier to manage."

"Why?"

"Because you become a traitor to them, that's why," she interjected sharply. She clapped her heels together on the floor, angling her shoulders toward him. The light caught on the brass of her locket. "They resent you for it. But if you want something, then you pursue it, doesn't matter if the masses think differently of you, understand? If you're smart, if you're sharp, if you're talented?--the world recognizes stuff like that. And you should take your handful or someone else will take it from you. Am I clear?"

Okay, maybe she was a little scary (just a little). "Yes, Miss Harkness."

Her eyes changed again. That shiny shield she always had ready at a moment's notice receded again and her eyes took on a warmer hue. It was this change that always reassured him that he had chosen the right mentor (no matter how much she had discouraged him at first).

"Down, down, down the road," she mumbled mildly as she started walking again.

"Agatha!" Missus Davis - who Agatha constantly called Mrs. Hart by mistake - poked her head out of her own room. "Stop saying 'bitch' around the students!"

"Tend your own flowers, Sharon!"

I'm sorry it took me a moment to respond. I've had a lot of work lately. 😭

But thank you so much for blessing my ask box with this masterpiece. I love me an english teacher. I'd also want to be Agatha's pet. This is so good. Don't be shy, come on out and share your ideas with everyone. Your writing is also really good. You'd have a fan (me) if you do decide to post sometime.

I love that you added Sharon into this, I was so excited to see her on the show. Everybody was perfect. How did you like it?

[daydreamalley]

A Ramble about Phase 19 of the Fifteen Manga Ft. Storm Bringer spoilers

Just absolutely cannot get over the 15 manga. I love the light novel so much, but this manga adaptation is so ridiculously amazing. Dazai and Chuuya’s proximity/touching has been amazing of course. I adore the way Hoshikawa draws Dazai and Chuuya as well (my baby boys, especially Chuuya). But these last two chapters with Rimbaud and Verlaine. Like, fuck. The whole “At least, one of them felt that way,” part just hits so much harder in the manga for me, with the art and page placement. And this whole most recent chapter. Like firstly, you don’t have to end every chapter with like Chuuya getting stabbed okay, help me out here.

Comparing the last page of phase 18 with Verlaine and the first page of phase 19 with Chuuya makes it so obvious that Rimbaud is seeing the similarities between them with just that parallel, which is confirmed later with Rimbaud quite literally seeing Verlaine standing behind Chuuya. 

Not to mention in phase 18 the “That’s right Paul, I remember you,” in conjunction with him seeing Verlaine in Chuuya.

Then that flashback with Verlaine carrying Chuuya and Chuuya’s just so small I could cry.

Like, I knew he was small, but he's just so young, I can't. People were experimenting on him. Like, how??

The way Rimbaud wants to ask Chuuya something and Chuuya crouches down to him. Which leads to Rimbaud putting a hand around Chuuya as he tells him to live. How close and personal they are when Rimbaud says all of this just make it feel so much more impactful for Chuuya. Kinda love too that Chuuya isn't just standing over Rimbaud. He's making it obvious he's open to listening.

Rimbaud says a lot of shitty things to Chuuya up to this point, even complaining that he has to kill a kid while only referring to Dazai, completely not acknowledging Chuuya as anything more than Arahabaki. But once he fully remembers what happened with Verlaine, I feel like that’s when Rimbaud remembers what he truly believed about Verlaine and his humanity and how that extends to Chuuya’s humanity. Because Rimbaud’s whole final speech is most definitely things he’d also thought of or told Verlaine before (as I think is confirmed in SB). I think those are Rimbaud’s true thoughts and beliefs on the matter, it just took that long for him to remember the full story and how he felt about it all. Rimbaud saw Verlaine’s struggles with humanity, and now he also remembers why Verlaine betrayed him. And so he tells Chuuya to live, just as Verlaine wanted him to back then, live without the burden of worrying about your humanity or where you came from, because “you are you.” It doesn’t matter if Chuuya (and Verlaine) “are but a pattern etched on the surface of raw power.” In Rimbaud’s mind, and honestly where we eventually end up at the end of SB, is that it really doesn’t matter what your origins are, whether someone is an artificial personality (aka pattern) etched onto raw power, because really everything is some version of a pattern upon the world. And in a word with abilities, a lot of people are a pattern connected to a power. Just as in SB Chuuya decides that even though Adam isn’t human and he knows it, it doesn’t take away from Adam’s actions, his sacrifices, or his dreams. Same goes for Chuuya and Verlaine. Their origins don't affect how human they truly are. Their humanity is significant no matter what. It just took a bit more convincing for Chuuya to get there, a little more than what Rimbaud could offer on his (almost) deathbed.

Anyway, Chuuya holding Rimbaud’s hand as he dies just does things to me. Like, the book described that “Both Chuuya and Dazai quietly listened as if there was something in what Randou (Rimbaud) was saying that they couldn’t allow themselves to miss… Some things, however, would not return to normal: the body of a man who no longer felt the cold, and the hearts of two boys who stood rooted to the spot, staring at him. A gust of wind peered through their souls as it passed them by.”

This page just so well depicts that last line. It truly feels these boys have heard something so monumental, that they won’t ever forget. Standing in the aftermath of their first fight together, hearing these words about humanity that both mean so much to both of them. Dazai’s expressions really convey this to me in the manga, and convey it just so beautifully. And Chuuya being so close to Rimbaud when he speak those words just makes it feel like those words truly are so monumental for him. And also this means that Chuuya fought to kill a man, that to be entirely fair and clear was trying to kill him first, and then held to his hand as he dies, and there’s just something about this added detail that’s so significant to me in portraying the weight of it on Chuuya. Chuuya's connection to Rimbaud is a complicated but important one. But really these words are important for both boys, because let’s not forget that Dazai also struggles with his humanity. Even if he doesn’t have a physical reason to doubt his humanity, like Chuuya, there are many other reasons that he does doubt it. So hearing that all people and all of humanity are really just patterns within the physical world, human or not that’s true of everyone and everything, and that’s important for Dazai to hear too. I think both boys think back to Rimbaud’s final speech quite a bit, if I’m being honest or did for a while.

I am NOT getting over the detail that someone (Chuuya??) put Rimbaud’s scarf on his grave. I just… it does something to me and I love that detail so much. And cutting back to that “You are you” line while Chuuya’s talking to the grave is just so perfect in my opinion, and again just shows the significance of it so, so well. It’s like, he's talking to Rimbaud, complaining about his actions really, and then it cuts to that “you are you” and it just shows almost the contrast I guess between Chuuya feeling unrest at not finding stuff about his past that Rimbaud could’ve given him, but maybe wouldn’t have anyway, and Rimbaud’s statement that those things don’t matter because Chuuya is who he is beyond all that. Also the little dandelion blowing into the wind, to me also signifying a wish being spread.

Anyway, entirely unnecessary to end the chapter with a big knife in Chuuya’s back, thanks. Especially after Chuuya mentions how he’s still exhausted from everything. Like let’s just, stop, please.

He's just a boy, leave him alone for the sake of all things good.

[ddollfface]

The actual meaning of being a girl is being torn between LoveSick!Athlete and LoveSick!Artist because while children are adorable they are annoying asf. Also, LoveSick!Bimbo? She's like, growing on me. How would the characters be with a darling who doesn't want kids? (Particularly referring to Athlete and Knight, since they seem to be the ones who want kids the most.)

- 💗 (Also, remember to drink water and take a deep breath. <333)

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬?

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Trigger Warnings; bad writing, obsessive behaviors, baby trapping, peer pressure, reader can get pregnant, lesbians, poking holes in condoms, hiding birth control, and just yandere behaviors ig If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ Thank you for your kind words 💗!Nonny! I'm really happy that more of my characters are appealing))) It makes me happy that you're enjoying my writing!

Awwww, I'm so glad that my other characters are growing on you! I seems that LoveSick!Athlete is still the fan favorite, though I'm hoping that will change 'cause LoveSick!Bimbo is so cute (in my opinion)!!!

Anyway, I feel that for the majority of the LoveSick!Characters, wouldn't mind not having children with their darling, especially when reader doesn't want to have them. Half of them don't want kids or just don't care too much about them. LoveSick!Friend and LoveSick!Bimbo falls under this line of not wanting children, and I think they'd be content with just being aunties or just having you.

I feel like we have to keep in mind that they are yandere, meaning that they are obsessed with you. Like, literally, they love you no matter what, and they don't mind keeping you for themselves for the rest of your lives.

Now, for characters like LoveSick!Poet, I think that he'd be a little heartbroken, not because he wanted children, but because he feels as if he pressured you with his trauma. LoveSick!Poet did not have a good childhood, and it caused him to develop a poor self-image. And in return, he doesn't want children, in fear of becoming his father, so when you confess that you don't want children, he thinks that he's projected his personal feelings onto you.

But this obviously isn't true, you just don't want children. That's the thing with LoveSick!Poet though. He is hyperaware and is constantly overthinking, so no matter what you say he'll go on and on about how it's your decision, and that he doesn't want to force anything onto you.

And for LoveSick!Artist, I don't think I have to get to him because he, himself, doesn't want children, so he'd be pleased that you're on the same page. It would be difficult for him if his darling wanted children, seeing as he doesn't, like at all. Overall, I think it wouldn't even be a topic for LoveSick!Artist.

Now, moving onto the menaces, LoveSick!Athlete is far more puppy-like than LoveSick!Knight, who's quite violent and overly aggressive toward everyone.

I've kind of touched on LoveSick!Athlete and pregnancy in this post. Overall, I think that you didn't want children, then, at first, LoveSick!Athlete would accept it, telling you that it's all good, babe, we're so young after all.

But that's at the beginning of your relationship, where he's censoring himself so that you'll be more comfortable with him, not wanting to scare you off so quickly. He'll hide his need from you, ignoring the burning desire in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees you hold a little babe. He'll smile throughout it all, only giving you subtle hints, ones that you won't realize until it's far too late. But as the months go pass and as soon as your relationship gets physical, he's on you.

Now, the two of you are having arguments on whether or not he can go raw. You say no; he says yes. You'll practically give him a whole biology lesson, going on about how it's not safe, even though you're on the pill, but he'll just repudiate it. After all, don't you trust me, babe? I've always pulled out, I can do it again, don't worry. You just have to trust me.

If you're still persistent, he'll just poke holes in the condom, small little pricks will do the trick. A little hole won't do anything, right? You'll notice, obviously, because who wouldn't notice the warm rush you get in your stomach? You'll look up at him, eyes widened in worry and panic. Your mind will begin to spin, flooding with thoughts of all kinds.

You'll pat LoveSick!Athlete's shoulder, trying to get him to pull out, and he'll just tilt his head to the side, furrowing his brows. Of course, he knows what you're panicking about, but he feigns innocence, saying that it must've broke, sweets! Shit, it's okay, I'm sure nothing will happen...

And all you can do is trust him, hoping that what he's saying is true. After all, it's not like he'd ever do anything like that, right? He would never cross that boundary... right?

It'll be like that for months, constant broken condoms, and missing birth control. You'll begin to panic, doubting yourself because how the hell is you're the whole package of pills gone? As for the condoms, you'll begin to buy some yourself, thinking that LoveSick!Athlete must just be buying some crappy brand or something, little do you know that that was never the case.

Moving onto LoveSick!Knight, he'll be a lot less sneaky, not fearing pushing your boundaries whatsoever. He has full control over you, and he knows this full well. He has your father, the king, wrapped around his finger, besides, wouldn't the queen be glad to know that she's expecting grandbabies soon? Yes, she would.

If you don't want children, you don't really have a choice in the matter. Though it would take a long while before he'd ever physically force himself onto you, the peer pressure would settle in far quicker. The whole nation is expecting a child from your marriage. Your father, mama, siblings, lady-in-waiting, everyone is waiting for the announcement.

It keeps you awake at night, pondering over whether or not there's something wrong with you. It's your duty as the next queen, and current princess, to provide an heir to the throne. How could you deprive your people of that right? How could you keep the right of fatherhood from LoveSick!Knight?

Now, if you magically push through the pressure to have a child (you must be some type of superhuman), then you'll be subjected to LoveSick!Knight and his cruel actions. I have no doubt that he'd babytrap you, wanting to lock you with him forever.

Seeing as there's no such thing as condoms or birth control, you have no way of preventing a pregnancy, rather than celibacy. Obviously, LoveSick!Knight won't let you keep your body from him, pressuring you to succumb to your "wifely duties." It's only a matter of time before you get pregnant, seeing as LoveSick!Knight isn't holding back whatsoever, stuffing you full of him, him, him.

[hyperlexichypatia]

Apparently a couple of my posts blew up in the past couple of days and I got a bunch of new followers (yay, welcome), but unfortunately, it happened while I'm down with COVID and high on cough syrup, so it's anyone's guess whether anything I say makes sense right now.

Things you can expect from my page:

Absolutist stance on cognitive liberty. Medical/psychiatric coercion is always wrong in all circumstances, yes, even that one.

Eugenics is always wrong in all circumstances, yes, even that one (yes, this includes "People shouldn't have children they can't afford"; no one should be so underpaid that they can't afford to support a family).

Young people should have far, far more rights than they have now, and should have 100% of their rights by ("by" meaning "no later than") age 18 (although really for most things I would advocate for younger). Yes, even if they make choices you think are bad for them. Yes, even in that circumstance.

All brains/bodies should be considered equal in value, desirability, and rights.

I refer to disabilities as disabilities under the social model of disability. I do not refer to mental differences (neurodivergence/madness/mental disability/psychiatric disability) as "illness" or "disorder." If you are in one of these categories and want to describe your neurodivergence in that way, that is your choice. But I don't.

I post long rants intermittently followed by long dry spells. I try to link back to previous long rants so I don't repeat myself too much.

I'm into some fandoms, current obsession is Star Trek, others are X-Men, Agents of SHIELD, and any mythology/fairytale retelling I can get my hands on. Random fandom analogies show up in my disability rights posts, because the Mutant Registration Act and the Eugenics Wars are upon us.

People are the genders/identities they say they are. Racism, sexism, ableism, queerphobia, classism, eugenics, neurobigotry, any bigotry gets the boot.

I love getting asked questions and will try to give a thoughtful answer to any question unless it's an obvious troll.

[nox-icate]

🐊 Welcome to the blog of your favorite swamp-dwelling reptile 🐊

. ‧˚₊꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶About me︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷₊˚‧ .

࿐ I go by quite a few names, which include: Evander, Donatello, Laurie, and Corrie! But I more commonly go by Nox on here! But feel free to call me whatever you deem suitable.

࿐ I use he/him, xey/xem, and they/them pronouns. Please only use enby or masculine terms when referring to me. Pronouns page <- ࿐ Please keep in mind that I have Autism, Dyslexia, Anxiety, ADHD, and that I am under the bipolar umbrella, keep patience with me in mind while interacting! ࿐ My birthday is 12/18/2007 making me a MINOR. ࿐ I am a teenager, meaning I have a tendency to make dark/inappropriate jokes, I can put on a filter if requested. ࿐ I do tend to be forgetful about some things (I genuinely have a horrible memory /srs) so please don't be afraid to point out on my slip ups/correct me if needed. ࿐ I am a very affectionate person with a tendency to cling onto people, and come off too friendly too fast. If I’ve ever crossed a boundary/made you uncomfortable please, PLEASE don’t be afraid to let me know. I don’t intend nor want to make anyone uncomfortable in any way shape or form and struggle with picking up cues/indicators that I’ve crossed a boundary (Plus being online the majority of my life and being homeschooled I tend to cling to people who I want to befriend and lack proper social skills).

. ‧˚₊꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶Links + Tags︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷₊˚‧ . LINKS: ࿐ Bluesky <- ࿐ Discord server <- ࿐ Toyhouse <- ࿐ Youtube <- ࿐ Instagram <- ࿐ Pronouns page <- TAGS:

#my art <- Pretty self explanatory. #my sona <- Posts including one of my many sonas. #my ocs <- My original characters. #🐊 shiggles <- Just me being a dumbass. #🐊 rambles <- My text/rant tag. #TMNT Solidarity <- My TMNT iteration. Masterlist (TBA) #ROTTMNT FQ <- My ROTTMNT AU (FQ standing for Four Quarters). Masterlist (TBA) #TMLP AU <- An AU where the boys get teleported to Equestria I made that me and my close friends are working on. Masterlist (TBA) MOOTS:

@mossy-box (The Leo to my Donnie, and one of my closest friends!) Tag: #Overgrown box 🐢 @k9alpine (The Raph to my Donnie, also one of my closest friends!) Tag: #K9Alpha 🐺 @that-was-pigeon (My parental figure!) Tag: #Twas pigeon 🥔 @drixxtavern (Fish wife! /p) Tag: Tba More moots TBA

. ‧˚₊꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶Interests︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷₊˚‧ . ࿐ As of currently I am fixated on quite a lot of differing medias, which includes, but is not limited to: Arcane, Blue eye samurai, Bluey, Ducktales (2017), HTTYD, I saw the TV glow, MLP, Saw, Scooby Doo, Spider man, Stranger things, Sweet tooth, The Alien franchise, The last of us, The quarry, Usagi Yojimbo, Venom, Wild kratts, and TMNT!

࿐ I'm absolutely obsessed with reptiles, dinosaurs, bugs, and aquatic life! My favorite animals being Alligators and Crocodiles.

࿐ I have also found I have a strange infatuation with radiation (chernobyl in general), natural disasters, geology, abandoned buildings, and vintage children's books/poetry. ❗ DNI AND BOUNDARIES BELOW, PLEASE READ BEFORE INTERACTING ❗

. ‧˚₊꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶DNI + Boundaries︶꒷꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷₊˚‧ .

DNI LIST: ࿐ Do NOT interact if you are/you associate yourself with, or support anything below. ࿐ Anyone under the age of 13 (This is for my own comfort as I'm not comfortable interacting with extremely young users). ࿐ Romanticizations/Sexualizations of unhealthy/toxic relationships (This includes heavy yandere shit < This is for my own comfort). ࿐ Sexualizing transgender people/characters (This is for my own comfort). ࿐ Dsmp (This is for my own comfort). ࿐ T-cest/Incest. ࿐ Proshipping. ࿐ Homophobia. ࿐ Transphobia. ࿐ Racism. ࿐ And any other basic DNI criteria. REQUESTS + ASKS: ࿐ I do NOT do requests outside of requests of my own work, either it being my own ocs, aus or iterations. ࿐ My ask box is always open and I love getting asks/messages (I'm lonely..) ࿐ Please keep it PG in my ask box I'm literally a minor, jokes are fine but please use common sense when talking to a stranger online. ࿐ Don't fucking request NSFW, once again. I am a minor. BOUNDARIES: ࿐ Please don't repost my art or work anywhere. ࿐ If you use my work as your profile picture PLEASE give me proper credit. ࿐ For the love of god, don't flirt with me. ࿐ Don't attack me, if you don't like me or what I do simply just block me. ࿐ Please use tone tags while interacting if we aren't close.

(Last edited 11/9/24)

[bellisima-writes]

August Fanfic Roundup

Good morning fandom readers,

I was able to read a bit more this month than last, but still not much. Quality over quantity, right? Here is a round up of the goodies I was able to gobble up in between the craziness that is my life:

Lesser known fiction (a shout out to some of the newer writers in our community!):

A Place for the End of the World by @kitty-kat-undercover - E - 77k

Three weeks after Aziraphale left for Heaven the Second Coming is fast approaching. A heartbroken Crowley decides to return to an old friend's home in Canada to live out the last few days before the end of the world

This was a beautifully written and original take on how Crowley and Aziraphale's story could end. The author has an incredible ability to paint a robust picture with their words, really dropping you into the landscape and feel of the story. There is a tenderness and a joy to the characters and the prose that paint the whole thing in a hopeful light; something I don't think we see too much in our angsty post season 2 world (my works included).

The story includes characters from the show as well as some wonderful original ones, all of them bursting with love and fondness for the world and each other that really shines through on the page. If you want a romantic character study of Crowley's journey through his grief and Aziraphale's discovery of his own bravery, then this is a great choice.

Apus by @notalostcausejustyet - E - 3.6K

A beautifully written one shot about the power of love, both of another but also of yourself, and the discoveries that can be born from that love.

It's a soft and sexy snapshot of the ways in which Aziraphale and Crowley continue to teach each other things about themselves, how their adoration of the other enables self discovery in both, and the power of love throughout it all.

@notalostcausejustyet is not just an amazing author, but an incredible human being. Definitely check out this and their other work!

Well known Post S2 fiction (stuff most of you have read but I am still catching up on):

scherzo in f-sharp minor, for orchestra by @astrhae - M - 23K

Two years after leaving, Aziraphale turns up at Crowley's doorstep without his memories.

Told entirely through Crowley's POV, this story packs a LOT into relatively few words. The prose are poetic and the reader is taken on a journey through a selection of vignettes and snippets that are weaved together to tell a complete Second Coming story.

The historical references stand out here, as well as the almost cinematic way I felt as though I was being pulled along through a montage of images and scenes, never lingering too long but fully feeling the weight of each of as they pulled together to tell the story.

The focus here is entirely on Aziraphale and Crowley and their journey to save the world and get back to each other. Not sure if there's anyone left who hasn't read this, but if you want a beautifully written but relatively short Season 3 what if story with a laser sharp focus, this is for you.

Classic fiction (reserved for older pre and post season 1 works only):

Married at First Sight by @aracloptia - T - 147k

A little young to be a classic but it was started before season 2 so I think it counts.

Human AU in which Aziraphale and Crowley join a reality TV series where they meet one another at their own wedding and have to stay married for six weeks before deciding whether or not to break up or stay together. Things start off rocky for the pair, and after a while they decide on an arrangement of their own to help them survive the remaining length of their marriage while also minimizing their own humiliation.

This one was a joy to read: sweet, funny, beautifully written, with wonderful (and sometimes tragic) characterizations and depth that likely doesn't belong in an AU about a reality TV show. Not to mention how brilliantly crafted it was - I actually had to message the author at the end of one chapter to ask them HOW they made it all work so well!

I was at the point this month between all of the heavy post season 2 canon stuff I had been reading as well as writing my own darker AU, I needed a palate cleanser to lighten the mood. And this was PERFECT.

I am partial to human AU's, and this one joins some of my favorites alongside Slow Show, Old Vines, What We Make It (Shotgun Wedding) and For His Eyes Only. I know this one has been making the rounds on my side of tumblr (it's how I found it myself) but if you've still not read it, you definitely should! You won't be disappointed.

I am also reading a few awesome WIPs by some of my mutuals that I hope to include next time! I'm just a wee bit bogged down with the start of the school year as well as trying to pull together my own WIP.

Til next month!

[comicaurora]

As a writer for this comic, scripts for videos, or what have you, have you found writing ever gets easier? Like with visual art you can study references or practice and eventually see results but just throwing more words on a page doesn't feel like it has the same tangible improvements. There are clearly authors out there who can certainly fill pages and either could not or chose not to improve things my favorite examples being from "men writing women". So yeah part of it is knowing what not to write I guess, but is there a way of seeing writing improvement you know of?

I think it's certainly harder to see, but writing absolutely does get easier with practice. Like most art forms, it's a matter of figuring out how to translate what's in your head into a tangible thing on the page. That can be very difficult and counter-intuitive. For instance, because I think of storytelling in a very visual way, my first instinct on prose writing is to describe everything in terms of visual detail, but the problem is, this does not actually work in writing.

The greatest strength of prose writing is thoughts and feelings - to communicate exactly what is going on in a person's head, and to inspire the audience to internally craft an image that matches the feeling the story is communicating. This is something no other art form can communicate so readily, because every visual art form is on a certain level on the outside looking in at the characters. And frankly prose writing is not very well-equipped for detail-oriented visual description. If you try, you often end up with something that doesn't really paint the sort of word picture you might be looking for.

"I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow."

(from My Immortal, natch)

This, detail by detail, is very clear about what the character is wearing, except if you read it you have to mentally arrange all the pieces yourself. Black corset, okay. Black leather miniskirt - really? Okay. Pink fishnets - cool. Black combat boots, all right, great, that's the clothes done. Oh god there's more-

But the exact specifics of what this character is wearing really don't matter, do they? It matters more the feeling they're inspiring by their appearance - what their appearance communicates to the audience, what their character is. Compare to how Terry Pratchett characterizes a different goth-trending young woman in his Discworld novel Thief of Time:

"Miss Susan wore black, which the headmistress disapproved of but could do nothing about because black was, well, a respectable colour. She was young, but with an indefinable air of age about her. She wore her hair, which was blond-white with one black streak, in a tight bun. The headmistress disapproved of that, too — it suggested an Archaic Image of Teaching, she said, with the assurance of someone who could pronounce a capital letter. But she didn’t ever dare disapprove of the way Miss Susan moved, because Miss Susan moved like a tiger."

What exactly is Susan wearing? What is her makeup situation? What's her bone structure, her hair texture, her build? We don't know, and yet we can clearly visualize in our mind's eye exactly what she looks like. Except that visualization will be different for everyone, because it draws from the reader's internal knowledge of what these various things might mean. She wears black, she's young, she's a teacher, and she moves like a tiger. We don't need to picture it the exact way Terry Pratchett visualized it to know exactly what that means. And because she's being framed in the context of being disapproved of by a character in authority who nevertheless clearly can't do a damn thing about it, we learn a lot about this character just by the way the story narrates around her.

This is the kind of thing that a writer figures out with practice - what actually needs to be communicated to the audience for the story to have the impact it needs. And what doesn't need to be communicated, because the audience can be trusted to fill it in on their own. A writer doesn't need to spend three pages describing the luxurious embroidery on a beautiful ball gown if "she was wearing a gorgeous confection of satin and lace" or "she had been carefully zipped into a very impressive bodice" or "she was looking beautifully miserable in her ball gown" or "she sat with the grace and poise of an empress enthroned in her satin skirts" would do the trick in terms of helping an audience get the point.

And once a writer has gotten a feel for how to communicate what they want to communicate cleanly and simply, they can start figuring out how they might want to get weird with it.

"Arthur Dent was grappling with his consciousness the way one grapples with a lost bar of soap in the bath."

(From Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy)

There are so many ways to describe a character on the verge of unconsciousness, and this is a buckwild variation, because it doesn't feel like it should work except that it totally does. We don't need to know what that looks like because we know exactly what that feels like, and we're readily invited to extend that metaphor into Arthur Dent's slippery grasp on reality.

"Lady Ramkin’s bosom rose and fell like an empire."

(From Terry Pratchett's Guards! Guards!)

What does that mean? What does that look like? It doesn't matter, we somehow absolutely get the point. This is a woman who moves with the power and gravitas of a battalion of soldiers and is often described in terms like "a galleon." We know how we're supposed to feel in this moment.

Words and language are incredibly precise and powerful tools, and what you need to use them for depends entirely on the kind of story you're telling, so the more you write, the better you'll get at using words for your specific purposes. This is why legalese is functionally its own dialect of English - lawyers try to use words to create completely precise, ironclad statements that cannot be misconstrued or manipulated, and it's pretty much incomprehensible to anyone who hasn't been trained in it because that is not what English is usually for.

The progress might not be as easily visible as art improvement, but it'll be there when you look for it, or when you revisit your older writing. You'll wonder with hindsight why you made certain decisions, or be frustrated with how inefficiently or blandly you communicated the point you wanted to make, or how much you undercut your own intentions because you weren't confident in your style. The more you write, the more easily you'll move through the medium of language and the better your work will become.