#just know that i better than colleen hoover

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

i don't-- i can't, i have no idea how to advertise my patrochilles modern au musicianchilles bio sudent pat fic that is hopefully funny enough to compensate for whatever i've been doing with it and for my skill and creativity issue through this chapter because the best lines are better kept in context, but here's diomedes:

[shrikebrother]

making assumptions abt ppl's lives & even the depth of their personality based on what they have on their bookshelf is so dumb . tiktok die

[personasintro]

Mimi why don’t you write a book and publish it on Amazon or smth like that? You would make profit from it. Your writing style is AMAZING and there are so many authors (in my opinion like Colleen Hoover ) their books are so trashhyyyy😭. I think the way you write the characters and story lines are PERFECT. You have already so many people who like to read your story’s. I think the most of them would like to buy your books as well 💕 it’s a hard work and it takes a lottt of time but at the end it will be worth it💕

ahhh i don't know! i get so many messages about this, but i don't even know where i'd begin and if i want to push it to another level ahah. at the moment, i have a ko-fi account where people can donate a certain amount if they feel like it or become monthly subscribers to access exclusive content. but my mind is definitely more open after seeing everyone's support on this matter!

thank you! i don't think i'm better than anyone and at the end, this is mostly just a hobby to me. i'm feeling extremely loved when someone says they enjoy my works ♡ thank you again bub!

[thearchercore]

https://www.tumblr.com/thearchercore/753930449893588992/hi-im-kinda-new-here-and-i-want-to-know-what

Maybe I’ve had too many toxic exes irl, but I think it’s this history and ongoing underlying tension that prevents me from enjoying Lestappen.

I mean, I talked it out with a former friend and colleague a while ago, and we buried the hatchet. But she’s not someone I’ll feel comfortable around or trust for a long time, if ever. And this was a 20 year close friendship.

The two toxic exes I wouldn’t spend time with if you paid me and I desperately needed money.

i mean ty for sharing your story i guess??

but i think relationships between f1 drivers who are rivals first and everything else second have to be at least slightly toxic because at the end of the day, you would do everything to beat that person if he stood in your way to become WDC

also got a few other asks in similar sentiment like: "charles deserves better than max" and im like ok??? they're not married lmao, they're not exes

this is not a colleen hoover novel, these are f1 drivers with pr training so, at the end of the day, whatever max and charles just did on ig/during the drivers parade was part of the pr game, it wasn't charles coming back to his ex after 5 seconds of a bad apology

[nartml]

To Pimp a Butterfly and 1989: a rant

Listen here, three things about me are that I'm a) white as snow, b) Greek, c) still a minor.

What does this mean? It means that I obviously wasn't raised with hip-hop, and I got into Kendrick Lamar's music pretty late.

As in, early this year.

I've known of him for some time, and the moment I found out he had a Pulitzer prize at some point in late-ish 2023, I decided I had to sit my ass down and pull out Spotify.

Now, as an avid reader of both fanfiction (ao3 raised me) and books [I feel the immense need to clarify that I don't associate myself with mainstream booktok. Capitalism's consumerism has overrun that shit and all I see are the same 20 books being recycled and recommended (a substantial amount of those are Colleen Hoover and her variants). Tropes and spice* are officially the defining factors of whether a book is worth it (*your porn addiction ain't cute) and quantity is heavily prioritized at the expense of quality. Also, diversity who?], I was, for a lack of a better word, hyped.

A Pulitzer prize is nothing to scoff at in general, more so in music, more so in hip-hop.

(Edit: Upon quick reflection, I realize that putting emphasis on hip-hop can come across as coded.

I am in no way, shape, or form trying to undermine hip-hop or say that it's somehow less 'sophisticated' than, for example, classical music. I'm very aware of the amount of skill and technique one needs to write a masterful hip-hop album, and I'm not doubting that there are hip-hop artists out there who are also incredibly deserving of such a prize. I meant it in the sense that I've unfortunately never heard of another hip-hop artist who won a Pulitzer before, which is quite telling.)

That's some huge shit, and I'd be a fool not to be intrigued.

Admittedly, I didn't get on that immediately. For a while I procrastinated, because I wasn't in the mood to hyper-fixate on anything new just yet.

Which of course meant I ended up forgetting about it for a few months, because of course I did.

But then I came across a TikTok that talked about how it was insane that '1989' won the Grammy when To Pimp a Butterfly was right there.

Now, a fourth thing about me is that I don't fuck with Taylor Swift.

And a fifth thing about me is that I'm not baseless in anything that I do, say or feel, and that includes annoyance.

Her immature understanding of activism and feminism leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The way she built up her fan base around this portrayal of her as a relatable girl's girl, her refusal to accept criticism, and always making a victim out of herself (even now when she's in her thirties and is a fucking billionaire) while never using her position of power and privilege for good are all reasons that serve to fuel my dispassionate dislike.

And before any Swifties get on my ass, no, I don't think that "But she's a singer! Why are you expecting so much out of her, she isn't even qualified to speak on XYZ—" is a good enough excuse.

She has always been rich, and now she's a billionaire. There are no ethical billionaires, and that includes her.

Fame is influence is power. Uncle Ben said it all: With great power comes great responsibility.

And let me tell you, I don't see her owning up to that responsibility, especially after all that talk about how she supports women, supports the LGBTQ community, and supports the BLM movement. Has she ever actually put her abundant money where her mouth is?

I've never seen her speak about anything that doesn't immediately concern her.

Don't get me wrong. She's not the only celebrity like this out there. I'm sure there are worse cases. I know it for a fact.

To wrap this segment up before I get even more sidetracked, I'll outright state that I don't hate her, because hating her would by definition mean that I, in some way, actually care about her, and that just sounds exhausting.

Best way to describe me is indifferent, leaning towards distasteful.

She's annoying.

And that's how I feel about both her as a person and her as an artist.

I'm not denying her talent, nor her impact on the industry, nor the fact that she does have good songs that even I like.

A select few, of course, but still.

Apart from those...what? Ten songs? I have never, ever been able to listen to any other song of her's all the way through.

I get bored. They do nothing for me. They sound empty. Hollow. Plastic. Repetitive.

Her lyrics, that are praised by fans for being deep and complex, sound pretty surface level to me.

Not all of them. But I'm a sucker for analysis. A literature nerd. Greek is my native language. I can tell when something's deep and when something wants to be deep.

(Not necessarily including Folklore and Evermore in that category. Her storytelling ability is actually great.)

Her music largely sounds like it wants to be deep.

Most recent example being her latest release, The Tortured Poets Department.

Anyway, back to Kendrick.

My initial plan was to listen to 'DAMN.' first, because that's what he won the Pulitzer for in the first place.

There was a change of plans after that TikTok.

I decided to compare the opening tacks.

I put on Welcome to New York, and predictably, I felt nothing.

The rhythm is dance-y, I suppose. But there's nothing substantial about it. There's nothing exciting about it.

The lyrics are juvenile, and I get it, it's a pop song and she was in her twenties.

Nobody is expecting Shakespeare (no matter how much you scream or kick your feet, the only reason Shakespeare couldn't write Taylor Swift is because he's in another league entirely) or Odysseus Elytis. Nobody is expecting mind-blowing lyricism.

But it's the opening track to an apparently Grammy-worthy album. The very least I'd expect from it would be some additional levels of artistry.

Am I being harsh? Probably. Do I care? No.

Disappointed but unsurprised, I put on Wesley's Theory.

I ascended within the first minute.

Don't get it twisted, I barely understood shit.

Not only am I white, I am also entirely removed from America and its culture as a whole. I don't know what's going on there in y'all's daily lives.

And this was baby's first proper introduction to hip-hop as a whole.

My untrained, white-ass ear barely caught two references. I got what the gist of the song was about, and that's about it.

I had to look up analyses of the track to fully grasp what Kendrick was on about, and even then, there was obviously still a disconnect.

And I expected all of that.

I didn't expect to get hooked on that song within the first listen.

I swear to fuck, the beat is addictive. I swear to fuck, even when I was fighting to understand what the lyrics were referencing, I was having the time of my life.

Even I, an amateur in every sense of the word, could tell that there was depth and there was quality and there was intentional meaning in every line of that song.

It didn't matter that I couldn't understand it. It mattered that I knew it was there. Not because someone told me that was the case. But because it was audible.

I listened to the next track. And the one after that. And the one after that. I had listened to all of the tracks, before I knew it.

And the evident permeance of quality, of substance, carried on throughout the whole album.

It had exactly the type of lyricism I'd expect a Grammy-worthy album to have. It had exactly the amount of artistry I expected a Grammy-worthy album to have.

Even better, it had all the ingredients I expected a timeless album to have.

The poetry Taylor Swift fans insist hides in her discography, I found in plain sight within Kendrick Lamar's.

After meticulously reading the lyrics, I watched video essay after video essay, searched for analysis after analysis on this album, each time understanding the meanings behind it a little better.

Needless to say that the Grammy's are rigged and I love Kendrick Lamar.

Hip-hop is gorgeous.

[jaylaxies]

Hiii I'm like new to your account and I've a fic of yours which i can't seem to remember the name of (im sorry) and i really liked it. The way you write is immaculate. Okay now I know how this sounds, I've read a lot of fics and I hate HATE how they have grammar errors. Like I'm not talking about using 'there' instead of 'their' or 'was' instead of 'were' or something, I'm talking about misspelling the members' names, using censors like '$' or '0' for seemingly casual works, using exclamation marks when it's not even needed. Like I get it if you misspelled a word, it happens, forgotten to add a comma, or something, but repeatedly writing 'Heesung' instead of 'Heeseung' like NO. That's a red flag for me 🙋‍♀️. And the best part? YOUR FIC HAD NONE OF THOSE 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️ NOT A SINGLE COMMA MISSING, NOT ONE SPELLING ERROR. I'm not a native English speaker, heck I've never even been around someone who's one, but I know good writing when I see it. 😐. You should consider seeing that as a profession, because you write better than some authors who've published actual hard cover books (colleen hoover i'm looking at you). Like it doesn't seem like fanfiction anymore when you write it (it's a good thing) , and that's on reading one fic. The purpose of this post was to ask for some fic recs from you (that you've written) and ig it got too long lol. That's it and have a nice day/night (idk)

Also idk if you do this but can I be 🧗‍♀️ anon please? (I said please)

ohmygod hihi anonnie 😭 the things you listed out?? like yes those things bother me a lot too im not gonna lie, if i see someone writing heesung instead of heeseung it just pisses me off for some reason?? but thank you sm for your kind words aaa english isn’t my first language so i’m still not very confident about my writing but i do wanna write more, and this honestly made my dayy thankyou so much anonnie 💗 here are some recs:

conflict of interest — heeseung

rewrite the starts — jay

rule number one: don’t fall in love — jake

roman holiday — jake

a reunion to remember — sunghoon

[thefandomwritersblog]

Ghost of the Ten Horizon: Forbidden West Hekarro x Fem!OldOne OC Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort Chapter 24

Part 3: Ghost of the Ten

~~

“But no matter how mad I’ve been, I never for one second stopped wanting you here with me.” - Colleen Hoover, Hopeless”

~~

Attention: It gets quite intense ahead. Mentions of child death and abuse.

~~

Once again, Hekarro found himself entranced by the tempestuous storm that raged within Victoria's gaze. He stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs, unable to break free from her intense, piercing glare. Her anger was both beautiful and terrifying, an untamed maelstrom - uncontested, unbridled. And heavily intoxicated. He could see it in the fire of her rage, tears streaming down her face despite how hard she tried to hold them back. In the unsteady sway of her stance and the flush on her cheeks. And most notably, in the sorrow hidden beneath the storm of her fury. A familiar pain he knew all too well, now brought to light by the harsh sting of the Stalker's Bite.

She comes to him like a revenant of rage, looking for a fight.

A heartbeat passed in silence, Victoria seething at him as he tried to decide on how best to approach her. He offered her a clear view of his hands, a placation that did little to soothe her as she narrowed her glare on him. A part of him knew she was beyond reason right now, drunk and angry as she was, though he did not know why, but better he to face her wrath than anyone else in his clan.

He knew it was coming. The moment he made the decision to entertain the Sun King’s proposal, he knew.

“Victoria…”

He begs her, even as she seethes, her fists beating against his chest in rage, “Please…”

"Don't do this." It slipped from his lips before he could stop it—exactly what he shouldn't have said.

With a whirl of her body, Victoria faced him, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. "Don't do what?!" The words were like acid, searing and corrosive as they spilled from her lips. “Why did you have to wake me up? Why couldn’t you have just let me be?”

Coward, traitor. She hurls her insults, and they burn like the fires of that little village in the desert.

Her accusations flew at him one after the other, relentless as the storm outside. Each query struck him like a physical blow; he staggered under their weight as he scrambled to find responses that wouldn't fan the flames of her wrath further. But nothing seemed to satisfy her thirst for answers.

“So you can use me?”

Hekarro found himself reeling from the force of her words; they cut through him more deeply than any physical attack she could muster. “Victoria, I don’t—”

He tries to reason with her. Surely she can see why? Surely she can understand that he’s only trying to prevent more needless death.

“Oh don’t play stupid with me,” She spat back, drunkenly pacing before the flickering Vision of her mother, “You’re just like everyone else,” She swung back around to fix him with an accusatory stare. “Did you put your Marshal up to whatever stunt she pulled tonight. Did she ask me to join your tribe on your orders?”

"What?!" He recoiled at her insinuation, struggling to figure out which Marshal she referred to. "No! I told them all to keep their distance."

“You are so full of shit,” Victoria seethed, “I can’t believe I nearly trusted you! All this talk about helping me - God, I know better!”

She doesn’t believe him. He’s betrayed her.

“Victoria, I don’t understand what happened.” He replied, trying—struggling—to keep calm, “Please just talk to me.”

“Why? So you can continue pretending to care while filling my head with more lies?”

“I trusted you!”

His anger flared at her accusation. "I've told you time and time again—I have nothing to gain by lying to you."

She glared at him defiantly and retorted, "You can keep saying that--"

"And haven't I shown it?" He snapped back, his patience stretched to breaking point. He met her glare with a fierce one of his own. "You are angry, and though I do not know why you’ve turned that anger against me tonight, I will bear it. But I won’t stand by while you question my integrity when I’ve done all in my power to ease this transition for you."

She sneered, “Yeah, I bet Tarrik trusted you too.”

The world shattered at his feet. The name - Tarrik’s name - an echo in the hollow chambers of his heart. A name he hadn’t spoken aloud in the years since he���d buried his son beneath the trees behind the Grove, buried beneath the layers of grief and regret, cocooned within the silent walls of his memory.

The sound of it now, expelled so cruelly from her lips, was like a dagger plunged deep into old wounds that had never truly healed. Each syllable was a cruel reminder of his son's death, taken from him too soon, twisting the blade further into the raw flesh of Hekarro's heartache. It was more than just the shattering of words at his feet—it was the reopening of a wound seared onto his soul, reliving his son’s death over and over again.

Hekarro turned on his feet and simply walked away. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel beyond the pain that hammered against his fractured heart. Regalla’s ghostly cries echoed in his ears, but they were drowned out by Victoria's screams that rang out into the night behind him.

But he didn’t have it in his heart to care.

His footsteps led him back to the solitude of his room. But as soon as he stepped inside, grief hit him with the force of a crashing wave against a fragile shore. His chest constricted painfully, and every breath feeling like shards of glass piercing his lungs. The room spun around him in a dizzying whirl, and Hekarro could only crumble to the floor, clutching at his chest and letting out a silent scream that echoed through his entire being.

His shoulders heaved as uncontrollable sobs shook his body, and once they started, they wouldn't stop. No matter how hard he tried to push them away, the memories flooded back—the lifeless eyes, holding his son in his arms, Regalla's screams ringing in his ears. It was a never-ending loop of pain and suffering. Each time he remembered finding the body, his heart clenched with agony. The grief, guilt, and anger threatened to consume him.

Through the haze, he registered the comforting warmth enveloping him—a pair of arms encircling his shaking shoulders—and Dekka’s lullaby humming softly in rhythm with her steady heartbeat as she cradled him in her lap. Her fingers wove through his hair, offering solace as he found himself mourning yet again, despite his sworn resolve not to. He had convinced himself that he was past it, that he needed to be strong for his tribe, and that he couldn’t afford another breakdown. Yet here he was, lost in time, the tears gradually drying up until the world ceased its relentless spinning—but leaving him shivering and numb in its wake.

“You told her.” His words were barely audible as he spoke, his tired eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. The smell of damp earth filled his senses and the sound of rain pattering against the walls of the Grove filled his ears. Dekka continued to run her fingers through his hair, pausing briefly before resuming before she clarified,

"I did mention that it was painful, but I didn't reveal the reason why." She added, "She had no idea that Tarrik was your son."

Somehow, that made it all worse.

Hekarro sat up abruptly, pulling away from Dekka's embrace. He felt exposed and vulnerable. Overwhelmed by shame. It had been years since he broke down like this.

“What will you do now?”

Hekarro bit his lip, unable to meet her gaze as he stared off into the distance. "I want you to locate the Marshal who approached Victoria tonight and bring them to me. I need to hear in their own words why they chose to disregard my explicit orders

"I meant about Victoria," Dekka clarified gently. Hekarro had no answer for that question so instead he stood up, feeling lost and numb. After a moment, he heard Dekka rise from the floor and place a comforting hand on his arm, guiding him back towards the bed. "Rest now. We can think about it tomorrow."

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was haunted by images of fire and death. He saw Victoria engulfed in flames, screaming at him while Regalla held their son in her arms. The screams followed him into wakefulness, leaving him drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably.

With great effort, he managed to sit up and ground himself by placing his feet firmly on the cool floor. How had everything gone so wrong? Just days before, she seemed content with their walks through the Grove and even spoke of her hopes that this place, this monument of death and loss, could become something more.

Noise from beyond his door brought his attention to Dekka, ducking into his room with a tray in hand. She handed it to him; breakfast was simple, but he had no appetite so he set it aside. She sat on the bed next to him, a moment of quiet passing between them before she spoke. "I've made arrangements for a messenger to be sent to Plainsong. On your word, we can ask if the Utaru will take Victoria to live among them.”

He shouldn't have been surprised by her suggestion; it made perfect logical sense. Victoria was beyond help and there was no reason for her to stay in a place that caused her so much pain. A place where she brought him immense pain as well.

And yet? He couldn’t stomach the idea.

"Did you discover the name of the Marshal?" He countered. Dekka raised an eyebrow but confirmed

"It was Marshal Ivvira. She challenged Victoria to a strike game, and according to Rikka, it drew quite the crowd. There was a significant amount of drinking involved as well."

Hekarro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn't surprising, but it still frustrated him. He forced himself to stand, to get ready for his day on minimal sleep and the feeling of his world falling apart at his feet, “Did she say why she choose to do this? Knowing full well it went against my very clear orders?”

“Marshal Ivvira insisted that if she was to be questioned, she would only do so by you.” Of course, because nothing could be simple, could it? Hekarro grumbled under his breath as he dressed, lacing his bracers tight before fastening his cloak across his back. “And what of Victoria?” Dekka pressed.

“Where is she?” He hated how clipped he sounded. He turned to look at Dekka, who shrugged,

“In her room, I assume. Shall I send the messenger?” She narrowed her eyes when he didn’t answer, “You intend to let her stay after last night?”

"I don't know," he finally said. "Last night…she was hurting. I don't know why." Dekka narrowed her eyes at him.

"You intend to forgive her? After dishonoring Tarrik's memory?" she questioned.

"I don't know," Hekarro repeated, exasperated, "But I would seek to understand her before I condemn her life to irrevocably change. Again.”

“That’s gracious, even for you. Far more grace than I would give her in this moment.”

Hekarro sighed, his tone defeated. "If I let my anger and hurt guide my actions, then I am no better than her. And I do not deserve to call myself Chief.” Dekka's face showed a mix of emotions, but she remained silent. Hekarro met her gaze and asked, “You have an opinion?”

“It is two-fold.” She clarified, “Would you hear my wisdom?”

Hekarro nodded, waiting patiently for Dekka to gather her thoughts. “Firstly, if after your efforts to understand Victoria you choose to forgive her, please do so cautiously. While I have spent time with her like you have, she has proven to be brash and quick-tempered. As we saw last night, she will not hesitate to lash out at others when she herself is hurt. And speaking not only as your Chaplain but also as your friend, I do not want to see you get hurt again as you were last night because you gave Victoria more grace than she deserved.”

"But?" Hekarro prodded, his hold on his crown tightening. Dekka stood up from the bed and approached him, placing a gentle hand on his heart.

"I will speak plainly," she said softly. "You have let Tarrik's death fester into a wound that poisons your heart. You refuse to let it heal. You tell yourself that you've moved on, but everyone else can see that you haven't. That's why I had to plead with Victoria not to mention him. It's why everyone avoids saying his name around you - they fear it will bring you to your knees. And it did. Just the mention of his name by someone who meant harm last night was enough to remind you of his absence in full."

Dekka took hold of Hekarro's hands and held his gaze. "If you want to understand Victoria," she said firmly, "And if she is even half as intelligent as I believe she is, despite what happened last night, then let her also come to understand you. Let the wound heal, Hekarro. Please."

He couldn’t even find it within himself to hate the fact that she was right. “As you say, Dekka.” He spoke softly; he couldn’t even bring himself to hate how defeated he sounded. She left him alone with his thoughts, as her touch lingered on his shoulders like a ghost. He took a moment to compose himself, rubbing his weary face before getting dressed and leaving his room.

He followed his feet down the hallway towards the Arena, stopping just before reaching Victoria's door. He paused, straining to hear any noise coming from inside. With his hand hovering over the curtain, he could see that it wasn't moving much, aside from a slight flutter caused by the gentle breeze passing through the Grove. The sound of rain hitting the roof and walls echoed in the room, creating small pools on the floor. Other than that, there was complete silence. Hekarro shook his head quickly and backed away; if Victoria was still asleep from her night of drinking, he didn't want to disturb her.

Instead he went to the Maw and ducked inside the mess hall. The morning guard had already gone through its shift change, so it was quiet. Even still, his quarry was eating quietly in the back of the room, what little of the remaining Tenakth keeping a wide berth from her. Hekarro grabbed a bowl from Rikka as he passed by the kitchen, her gaze respectfully to the floor. Ivvira didn’t look up when he set his bowl down and pulled back the stool to sit in front of her. A long moment of tense silence passed between them before his Marshal finally sighed.

“I will take any punishment you deem fit,” She said, “even if it means losing my rank. I do not regret that I asked.”

"Didn't I make myself clear before?" Hekarro replied quietly, "Regardless, it was not your place to interfere."

Ivvira toyed with her food for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "The Old One has no purpose," she said, "and even you, with all your wisdom, must see this. Yet we allow her to linger without one - to decay in her past without giving her hope for the future."

“That is not your choice to make, Marshal.” Hekarro countered. Ivvira frowned and shook her head,

“You are right, it is not," she admitted, avoiding his gaze for a moment, "but she will never make that decision unless we give her the opportunity. She needs to be pushed - whether she stays and joins our tribe or chooses to leave - she needs hope for the future. If we continue to allow her to linger in Anne's shadow and wallow in the past, she will never move forward." She hesitated before speaking again, choosing her words carefully, "I would ask to speak plainly."

“The irony of you finally asking for permission for something is not lost on me, Marshal,” Hekarro deadpanned with a gesture, “But continue.”

"Victoria hates her mother," Ivvira said bluntly, "It is clear to anyone with half a bit of sense. No one who truly loves their parent would linger at their memorial like a ghost, as she does. It's clear that Anne sacrificed her own daughter for the sake of peace and unity. But how deep does the wound really go?"

She met his gaze squarely, "To let a wound fester and rot is to give up. That goes against everything we stand for as Tenakth. And out of all of us, she is more Tenakth than any of us could ever hope to be. To experience the death of her people? To wake up in a new world, to live with the loss of everything she knew and loved, and yet still find the strength to keep moving forward, even if she doesn't know why? That is true strength. And I believe she deserves a chance to fight instead of being left to wallow."

Hekarro allowed himself a moment of stillness, his gaze meandering towards the distant wall. The rough texture of the stone under his fingertips was a tangible distraction from the turmoil within him. He'd always been aware, in some corner of his mind, that Victoria held a deep-seated bitterness for her mother and everything tied to the Grove.

Yet he had never dared to pry into the matter; it had always felt to intrusive. Too private. Despite Victoria's typically outspoken nature, perhaps there were wounds too raw for even her brave heart to lay bare. As he thought about it, he realized that he could easily understand that kind of pain. While he could never compare losing Tarrik to losing an entire lifetime and people, his son had been everything to him. His entire world gone in a single moment.

But was it enough to warrant his forgiveness? Even he couldn’t say for sure.

“As you say, Marshal Ivvira,” He said eventually, taking his bowl in hand so he could stand, “You are to report to Chaplain Dekka. A month’s worth of hard labor at her discretion, with the understanding that I will have no hesitation in calling on you to enact my will as my Marshal.”

“As you say, Chief Hekarro.” She dipped her head respect, a fist across her heart as he departed.

The rest of the day was spent wandering through his thoughts as he roamed from one area of the Grove to another. Eventually, as night fell, he found himself standing in front of Anne's Vision. He paused to contemplate the empty space before activating the vision and freezing it to study Anne's image before him. He couldn't help but see traces of Victoria in her features - the shape of her nose, the way her mouth turned down in a frown. It was endearing, in some ways, though he knew Victoria would snap at him if he ever pointed it out.

Curious, he took a step back and tried to view the same Vision through Victoria's eyes. He attempted to feel her emotions - the anger, sadness, and confusion that she might feel. Anne had made a significant impact in her time, as even Victoria acknowledged, and such impacts, whether positive or negative, tended to leave lasting shadows. He knew this all too well from his own experiences, he mused. How many times had he faced flattery and unfulfilled promises because of his status? How often did he have to distinguish between friends and foes within his own ranks?

Being a child of such a legacy would undoubtedly come with its own challenges, he realized. Who better to sway their parents than their own children?

Hekarro deactivated the Vision and spun on his heel. He made his way down the narrow hallways towards the sleeping quarters, eventually stopping in front of Victoria's door. He paused and listened closely, but all he could hear was the gentle sound of rain outside. He hesitated, knowing what he needed to do but not wanting to face it. A cowardly part of him urged him to retreat to his room, delay this for another day. But deep down, he knew that Dekka and Ivvira were right. This was just another wound that could not be allowed to fester. None of them could continue living like this.

He entered the room then with a deep, steadying breath, brushing aside the curtain in one sweep, “Victoria—”

He stopped abruptly, his eyes scanning the vacant room. He frowned and furrowed his brow, almost expecting to see her huddled in a corner, avoiding him. But the room was empty, save for the remnants of orchids fluttering in the breeze above her bed and the lingering scent of their sweetness. He searched the room, trying to find a clue as to where she might have gone. His gaze fell upon her desk, covered in charcoal dust and scattered pages from her torn journal.

The words scrawled on its pages were incomprehensible to him. The script was written in Old One style, unlike the Carja script he had learned. But as he studied it, he noticed a few familiar words among the shaky writing. It wasn't enough to tell him where she had gone, but he could see that Victoria had hurriedly written it all down before disappearing. He picked up her journal and flipped through the pages, hoping to find more clues or at least take it to Beta who could translate it for him. Eventually, he came across a set of pages that caught his attention.

There were drawings of the scattered orchids, a laughing Beta, and several different angles of Dekka. Victoria had also sketched his own likeness, capturing him in moments of contemplation with a worried expression on his face. Did he always seem that way to her? He had never noticed before.

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach as he continued flipping through the torn pages of her journal. Uneasiness drove him back into action and out of the bedroom door, back into the quiet hallway. A quick scan assured him that everything was still calm and he hurried towards the Maw and into the mess hall. Rikka was busy serving dinner, but she immediately acknowledged him when he approached.

"Have you seen Victoria?" he asked.

She furrowed her brow in confusion, "No. It was strange. She didn't come in for any meals today."

He held back an exasperated sigh, feeling at a loss as to where Victoria could have gone off to. Had she left the Grove? No, someone would have noticed her leaving and would have told him if that were the case. Frustrated and worried, he quickly thanked Rikka before leaving the mess hall. He searched every possible area he could think of, from the baths to her mother's Vision to even the throne room. But there was no sign of her anywhere. His wandering eventually led him back to the arena overlook, staring out at the halted work in frustration with Victoria's journal in hand. No one had seen or heard from her since yesterday, and his gut twisted with worry.

Where could she have gone?

It was well past dark now. She must have managed to sneak past the guards and into the jungle. He knew he couldn't wait for dawn if he wanted any chance of finding her alive. Hekarro hurried back to his room, heart racing as he threw her journal onto his desk and hastily removed his cloak and crown so he wouldn't be weighed down by them in the rain. Just as he was about to leave the hallway, a distant sound caught his attention. Straining to listen, he heard what sounded like crying coming from above.

No, it couldn't be.

He moved to one of the empty backrooms, grasping onto the wall he knew full well was stable enough to hold his weight.

What were the odds that she found it?

With great effort, Hekarro hoisted himself up over the rooftop, drenched from the rain but still determined to find her. And there she was, sitting on the edge of the roof with a view of the darkened jungle below. Nearby, the dilapidated lean-to still stood, just as he had left it years ago. A bitter laugh almost escaped Hekarro's lips as he took in his surroundings - the very same spot where he had once considered taking his own life in his grief over losing his son. The irony of finding Victoria here, of all places, was not lost on him.

He let out a quiet sigh as he stood up and joined Victoria at the roof's edge, sitting beside her with his feet hanging off the edge. Looking down, he could see the dense jungle floor far below, barely lit by the faint glimmer of lights from within the Grove. The rain continued to pour down on them, cool against his skin in the humid air, drenching them both but also filling the silence of the night. He struggled to find the right words, anything to break the tension between them.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” Victoria said, her voice hoarse from her tears, all mixed and lost in the rain.

"I wish I could forgive you," he replied softly. She nodded, not surprised by his response. They stood in silence, gazing at the distant jungle until he finally spoke again. "Tarrik was my son. He died when he was only six years old, when the Red Raids first began.

It felt like a knife twisting in the wound and then being ripped out all at once. Painful yet freeing to finally speak of it after all these years. In the dim light, Victoria's face contorted with anguish as she turned away from him. She buried her face in her hands and let out a sob.

"I said something terrible to you. How can you not hate me for it?"

“I want to.” He admitted, "Tarrik was everything to me. My light, my joy, my entire world. Your mother's words may have united my tribe, but it was my son who gave me a reason to keep fighting for peace. When I lost him, I lost everything. My anger and thirst for revenge against the Carja consumed me until it became meaningless."

He let out a trembling sigh, "When I agreed to the Carja's request for peace and defeated his mother in single combat when she opposed my decision, I buried his memory. I wanted…I needed to be a better leader, stronger for my people and their future."

“But you never forgave yourself, did you?”

Hekarro shook his head. "No. Tarrik died because of my choice to send him to that village in the desert with his uncles. He lost his life and his mother lost both her child and brothers…all because of me."

Another heartbeat, a pregnant paused that filled with painful silence, until he finally said, "I want to hate you, Victoria." He paused before adding, "But I can't. You didn't know who he was to me, or how much he meant to me. But you were warned, even by Dekka, and yet you still used his name to hurt me in a way no one else could. And for that, I cannot forgive you."

“I would never expect you to,” she said softly, “It was a low blow and I knew it even before I said it. I was hurting, but I had no excuse to bring you down with me like that.”

"Why were you hurting, Victoria?" He asked gently.

"It's hard to explain."

“I have shared with you a pain I shared with no one else save one other,” Hekarro responded stiffly, “I would encourage you to try.”

She took a while to collect her thoughts before speaking, and when she finally did, it was in a barely audible whisper. "Growing up with Anne as my mother was… lonely. Even when she was around, she wasn't really present, if that makes sense. She had this way of looking right through me. When I was younger, I convinced myself that it was because she was busy. After all, she was Colonel Anne Faraday - the war hero, the peacemaker. She couldn't be there for me all the time; that's why her best friend raised me. But as I got older, I realized that being around me was painful for her."

"Because of your father?"

Victoria nodded, “Yeah. She died the day he did, a part of her going with him while I got stuck with the ghost who only ever saw her dead husband in their daughter.” She shrugged, “But it was okay cause I had Maria, my mother’s best friend. Anne hired her and her family to help run the Faraday Ranch during the Clawback, and even sold a portion of the stocks to Maria once it became successful. Maria raised me. As far as I’m concerned, Maria was my mother. But still… that didn’t matter to some people.”

She frowned. "I had… well, I called her my friend when I was little. Her father was in the military too and she used to come over to my house all the time. We would do our homework together and sometimes Maria would invite her over for dinner. One day, she invited me to a sleepover at her house. Her father… he…" Victoria choked on the words as if they pained her to speak them. "It was the first time I learned what people were willing to do to get what they wanted, even if it meant hurting an innocent kid."

There was a cold feeling in his gut as he imagined the horror of what she didn't say.

"As I grew up, I learned to trust people less and less. Emi's father wasn't the first person to take advantage of me, and he certainly wasn't the last. When I finally graduated from school, I joined the military like Anne, but by then, I had something to prove. I was tired of living in her shadow, constantly being compared to her and receiving empty words of praise and flattery. And even in the military, it was more of the same - people asking for favors and special treatment because of my mother's position as my superior officer. But through all that I met someone."

There was a hint of sadness fondness in her voice now, a shift in her posture as she sat in the dark. "He was…I thought he was perfect. Handsome, smart, funny; we shared the same career goals. And the best part? He didn't care who my mother was or that I was a Faraday. He asked me to marry him. And I said yes."

“He betrayed you,” He asked softly, his heart softly breaking for her, “Didn’t he?”

She nodded in the darkness. "I came home early from work one day. We were still planning our wedding. I'll never forget how he laughed with his friends when he thought I wasn't there. The way he bragged about our relationship…I don't think I've ever hated anyone as much as I hated him."

"I'm glad you didn't marry him then," he said softly

Victoria scoffed, "Yeah, me too. But the point is, people always use me. They always have, Hekarro. And with Anne's influence on your culture, even now I doubt that will ever change. Your marshal asking me to join your tribe…that could be dangerous for everyone involved. You must understand that." She turned to him in the darkness and pleaded, "Why did you wake me up, Hekarro? It would have been easier for both of us if I had stayed in stasis."

"Because I believed it was the right thing to do," he confessed. "I never stopped to consider that perhaps waking you up was the true cruelty."

“Hindsight’s a real bitch, isn’t it?” Victoria remarked dryly, earning her a rather short laugh from Hekarro.

"I suppose it is." He paused before continuing, "Victoria, Marshal Ivvira's request was not made on my orders. If…if you were to join my tribe, I want it to be because you truly wish for it." She didn't respond, so he turned to face her. "Is that something you want, Victoria?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "To be honest, Hekarro, every night I go to bed hoping I won't wake up in the morning. I am the last one left, the only survivor to remember everyone - my family included - as they were. It’s a burden and curse that I never asked for. All I wanted was to die with my people; I was prepared for it. I had accepted that I would never see the other side of the end of the world. And yet, here I am, still alive. But why? Why me instead of Anne or anyone else?"

Victoria struggled to compose herself as she spoke, her voice breaking as she tried to wipe away the tears streaming down her rain-drenched face and pushing back her wet hair. "So what now?"

"I won't ask you to leave, Victoria," Hekarro replied calmly. "As angry and hurt as I am, this is your home just as much as it is mine. I have no right to ask you to leave."

"And if I want to leave?"

"Then I will help you find a new place to call home."

"And…" she whispered softly, "what if I want to die? If I told you that I want to jump off this roof, just end all this shit right now.”

"Then all I would ask is for you to tell me where you want to be buried," he whispered back. "Your death was stolen from you once, Victoria. I would not be so cruel as to take away that choice from you again."

A heavy silence hung between them, stretching into the night. Hekarro couldn't help but fear that she might actually go through with it, throwing herself off the roof and plummeting towards the jungle below. He didn't want her to, of course, yet he understood that desire all too well. To end the suffering and pain. After all, he had been in a similar place before, kneeling on this very rooftop with a knife in hand and thoughts of ending his own life to escape his grief. Eventually she sighed, wiped at her face again and nodded,

"Hey Hekarro, I know you're pissed with me, so I wouldn't blame you if you refused, but… could you please help me down off the roof? I don't think I can make it on my own in the dark

He smiled, even though he knew she couldn't see it. Maybe this wasn’t enough for forgiveness, but he was certain is was a start.

“As you say, Victoria.”

[animezinglife]

Sending this here because I didn't want to clutter that post.

I won't get mad at you for having an opinion different than mine 😂 don't worry.

I guess your opinion of Hazelwood is like mine with Colleen Hoover. She's just not for me.

Also my main issue with SJM is that she seems to have no idea where Acotar is going anymore. She takes too long between books and then forgets the original thought she'd had. She keeps changing her mind and retconning things.

Also if you have any romance book recs , I'd love to take a look.

I'm glad, and likewise! I've gotten a lot better over time in terms of pickiness towards books, and I fully acknowledge that there are two different types of "good" books: books that someone loves and enjoys, and books that are genuinely well-written. Ideally, those overlap, but not always.

I think my issue is more with the idea that seems to be prevalent that SJM somehow "is" fantasy, or that her books are at all an accurate representation of the genre when that simply isn't true. There's room in the genre for different types, but I personally can't look at someone who's only ever read SJM and call them a fantasy reader--they aren't. They're a Sarah J. Maas reader.

I had to switch to audiobooks to overlook her grammar and punctuation errors. Again, that's something an editor should be helping with, and I can't understand why better quality work isn't being done. All writers make errors--none are perfect. Yet there isn't an excuse for the volume of them in her books given the resources at her disposal and investment publishing companies have made in them.

The lack of consistency also frustrates me. I don't understand why she "undoes" so much without providing appropriate context or reason, and for me, that even comes down to the fundamentals of the story. This could be helped somewhat with adequate worldbuilding, yet when it comes down to it, even the Night Court could at best be described as, "Whatever Feyre and Rhys want it to be." Or, it's culturally/politically whatever the plot needs it to be at that specific moment.

ACOWAR felt like the end of the series to me, so I think you bring up a good point with her not knowing where to take the story anymore. Maybe she does, and maybe she doesn't. There's always been a lot of aimless writing throughout the series, and each book could easily be cut down about two hundred pages without losing any substance or necessary detail.

There's a lot of room for complexity and intrigue she simply never digs into.

What are the consequences for the bargains being made (besides the short-sighted death pact)?

What do the people of Night truly think about a twenty-one-year-old human girl who became High Fae yesterday being made their High Lady?

What is the depth of the impact of Feyre's and Tamlin's actions to the survivors in Spring? Their lives were uprooted because their High Lord made stupid decisions and their lives were worsened because of a messy breakup.

SJM does deliver on the romance between Feyre and Rhys. I wasn't as sold on Nesta and Cassian (even if I love Cass). I'm curious to see what she will do with either Elain and Lucien or Elain and Azriel (or Azriel and Gwyn).

Aside from the first book (which, let be real, was completely unnecessary given the direction things took), the romances aren't at all my issue with her writing. The worldbuilding has always been an issue: there's no grounding, technology makes no sense, and fashion seems completely random in Night.

The retconning is inexcusable. It's very clear to me that regardless of what she says, she had very different plans for Tamlin at the start of the series. I always thought he and Feyre had no chemistry and that the whole thing felt forced, but she gave no such indication of awareness in the book. Feyre, in my opinion, immediately had more chemistry with Rhys, and while I think it was obvious something was inevitably going to happen between them, SJM took the easiest routes possible for herself (story be damned) and made Tamlin a mindless villain.

Did I ever like Tamlin? No.

Did I think he and Feyre needed to be together at any point? Definitely not.

Do I think he deserved to be written better and for his character to be given more nuance after spending an entire book with him? Absolutely.

I'm worried about what she'll do with Lucien, Elain, and the Autumn Court. Lucien has been my favorite from the beginning--I joked early on about him being exhausted from carrying all of Prythian and the entire first book on his back. Elain has tremendous potential in her own right, and so does the Autumn Court.

I would actually rather see SJM slow down in her writing. I think the speed shows when the story and characterization becomes messy and careless.

Recommendations

It depends on the type of romance you'd want. Carissa Broadbent is the complete opposite and not only digs into multifaceted characters, complex political systems, and intricate psychology, but she pretty much never comes up for breath. Each book in every series she writes gets better as it goes along. My favorite is her Crowns of Nyaxia series, but The War of Lost Hearts (an earlier series of hers) certainly checks the high fantasy worldbuilding boxes on a entirely different level. Every point that I feel SJM misses, Carissa nails.

Be warned: she will gleefully make you question quite a bit about your own morality.

It's not strictly fantasy romance, but Katherine Arden is also excellent in both prose, character complexity, nuance, and worldbuilding (the same strengths Carissa shares). I recommend The Winternight Trilogy.

If you're looking for something quirkier with a wildly twisted sense of humor, T. Kingfisher's Paladin's Grace is a great option. Her characters are also in their thirties/early forties in The Saint of Steel series. There are a few typos I recall seeing and the (obviously) intentional use of run-ons during humorous action scenes. The first two books are great. I did want more out of the third one, personally.

I recently read The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst and can say I will gladly pick up more of her books in the future. She has a lovely, gentle command of language, and this book in particular is the definition of cozy. The romance is light, but it's very sweet. This is a whimsical read perfect for a cottagecore crowd. I will say while I felt the last act wasn't as strong as the rest, it was still more than worth the read.

I haven't yet read Hoover, but I've heard quite a few similar opinions. At the end of the day, something not being for us doesn't mean we're against the author's success or bashing anyone else's opinions. It often means we either value different things in books or our opinions have been formed through different experiences.

[heyftinally]

Swift is a Quanity Artist not a Quality Artist. She has high sales because of the Quanity of her albums not because of the Quality. Her fans are not ready for that conversation.

She has one song!! doing 2Billion streams on Spotify and she got that just recently. For a modern Artist who is active, it's a pathetic achievement. Abel's highest is 4Billion and there are other artists who got songs with higher streams.

Her fans constant comparsions with MJ make no sense, their output is completely different. Mj became a high selling artist with a relative small discography but big albums. Taylor Swifts output - when it comes to releasing albums- is more similar to Elvis or you would say (Prince) and I'm only talking about sales not talent ofc.

Her behaviour with her fame on top of that is completely different aswell. MJ was careful of not being overexposed during the heyday of the Thriller era. Apparently he even demanded only to be shown a few seconds during the Pepsi commercial in 84'. Barely gave any interviews, no tour ( Thriller), the album just sold on hid own. While Taylor Swift unintentionally or not, forces herself down on people. Her art itself cannot survive on it's own if she didn't do that heavy promo. The heavy Promotion also on Tiktok where, when you even watched a random video; her face would pop out in a small circle. This one of the worst thing she could have done to annoy the gp even more.

Many people who were once neutral about probably began to hate her, simply because of that. It's annoying. And it's also quite pathetic to have your new album play in over 800 radio stations! I mean, how insecure are you about your own art? Good music does not need that heavy Promotion.

It's the ignoring Celine Dion at the Grammys, annoucing an album at the Grammys. It is evident that they tried to make this moment a Taylor Swift moment in history of the Grammys, similar to MJ's back then. But it just ended up being embarrassing and awkward. Her putting her Grammy on boygenius' head. I couldn't even watch this, due to the second-hand embarrassment. She carefully forces everywhere to be always in the center of attention. And she does make it in a way where it seems like it is not her fault, so people getting mad shouldn't be blaming her. But that she supposedly has no say how her public persona is perceived is just laughable. She may cannot control the paparazzis and some articles they write. But she knows how to get attention.

And then this:

https://x.com/PopBase/status/1791100169347375609

Her fans are mad at this because it is a Coleen Hoover book and they feel that Swift deserves better than this. I quite honestly don't understand what they mean with better. But for my understanding Taylor owns her songs post Reputation, right? So she had to give her ok using one of her songs in this Film.

I also, unpopular opinion as an already huge artist find it cringe to have a song as a movie soundtrack. Like you are already popular enough. Give it a rest sometime.

She oversaturates the market just to always be on everyone's radar in the most obnoxious way. It's not just that her music is on 800 stations, it's that on any one station they'll play four of her songs for every one of anyone else! When I can hear the SAME Taylor Swift song 4+ times in >4 hours, that's excessive.

But she truly doesn't care, as long as she's the center of attention at all times to feed her ego. Just like when she snubbed Celine Deon. But she paints every and any criticism as an attack/"misogyny" (she wouldn't know the definition if it slapped her smug smirk off her face), and just further feeds her victim complex.

And, for the record, she does control the paparazzi, in a way. There's been reports of her staging outings with friends and having her team call the paps to get shots of her and her entourage. With Taylor always in the middle like Regina George, interestingly.

That said, Taylor doesn't deserve anything "better" than a Colleen Hoover movie adaptation oh please no someone say sike. Taylor can't write good music - might as well pair it with a trash book lol.

Depending on the artist, I think including them in a movie soundtrack can work. Bowling For Soup was in a fair amount of Phineas & Ferb. Hilary Duff had a thriving music career when she was in The Lizzie McGuire Movie and A Cinderella Story, and her music was in both. Same for Selina Gomez in Another Cinderella Story, and Aly Michalka in Phil of the Future on Disney Channel. In all of the above cases the singers had established careers in music, but their music still added something to the media they were in.

Now, that said, I don't think Taylor Swift's music will do the same. I already saw that back in Valentines Day, and her song "Today Was A Fairytale" felt excessively cheesy, childish, and almost Disney-ish for what was supposed to be an older teen/adult movie. And given how stagnant her "growth" as an artist has been since then, I can't see her current music having much benefit for *any* movie.

And yes, she has final say in what movies get her songs at this point, so she signed off on this somewhere. So if/when she cries and/or bitches and bashes the movie for whatever petty reason she decides to fabricate, I want everyone to remember that 1) I called it 2) she HAD to have given permission for her music to be included. *I* have to pay royalties just to use music for a group of 8 year olds to compete at a dance competition - Taylor Swift was ABSOLUTELY compensated after signing an agreement somewhere.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, June 9, 2024

My posts

MY ABELIAS HAVE POWDERY MILDEW. We have now acquired a fungicide and sprayed down everything in a six-foot radius of Patient Zero, a crape myrtle that had “mysteriously” not grown much foliage back this year. Thrilling, I know.

If you want to know what post-exertion malaise is, it’s me cleaning for an hour and then being laid out for three days. Coincidentally, I had someone else’s post about chronic fatigue and taking constant breaks in my queue. To round it off, here’s an old post of mine about giving yourself and your fatigue the same grace you’d give other people’s.

Side note, I have realized that mobile now cuts off my profile bio to 

She/her. Classy dame, sparkle consultant, vampire

New followers, I have some very disappointing news for you. 

Reblogs of interest

Pride Month: Spotlight on activist/drag queen Marsha P. Johnson

Related: I think the Pride Moth should become the next Tumblr Animal Mascot.

Great Uncles Angelo and Bill, a love story

The Hot Vintage Lady to Rule Them All: Eartha Kitt. 

Hozier Watch 2024: Here’s “Too Sweet” on--I nearly said “The Colbert Report” and I kind of wish it was. 

Dante inventing the circles of hell: It’s the “Thank you king I am commissioning fan art of you” that always sends me.

The flowered houses of Zalipie, Poland

I have had to get a few crowns because I grind my teeth, and I am very excited about the idea of this tooth regeneration therapy, which my dental insurance won’t cover either. 

Come for the five things food banks want most (money), and stay for the tale of the chaos penny drive.

“One of the most dangerous things we tend to do is treat insights as rules”

Translating Sappho is more complex than you might think

The more you know: a breakdown of the differences between “Rromani,” “Romany,” “Ro[u]manian,” and ethnic slurs in Dracula

Vampire Therapist, available to wishlist on Steam

1000 Books You May Have Actually Read: The implied “you” here is “U.S. readers,” I think. I hit 200 (”better than 86% of users on this list”) because I have read a lot of Shakespeare, “I’m Bella Swan and my hobbies are English class” books, and Stephen King. If you have read YA of the last 20 years, James Patterson, or Colleen Hoover, you will blow past me. 

Video

“The Golden Sandwich, made 95% out of aid package contents, 5% with love and resilience 🍉🚨” 

Hey, so, Adobe is forcing you to agree to let them go through all your shit. Adobe responds, and I don’t believe them. 

Philadelphia Flyers mascot Gritty raising the Progress Pride flag

A guy playing piano and the cat who loves him

“cut to me, playing my horror instrument at 4 am” Okay, but now imagine a hellhound nestled up lovingly against the player of this instrument. 

A roan, a rider, a pride flag, and no tack

The sacred texts

The duality of bun

“Poob has it for you” is probably too new to be a sacred text, but I’m investing

“why are you microwaving carbonated drinks” is not the shocking part

Personal tags of the week

Dune, for some reason, bunnying, and tumblr therapy, a tag that will just body you over and over. 

[mzannthropy]

So I've just rewatched Book of Love and I think it's better than people care to admit.

When I first heard of the film, I hated it just from its description (an unsuccessful writer finds unexpected success in Mexico bc the translator took liberties with his book and wrote in a lot of smut), but I watched it when it was out and was relieved to see they somehow made it work. I mean they still probably got everything wrong about the publishing industry; not that I know the ins and outs of it. However I think the premise is not as wild as it sounds. Henry seems to come from a posh, old money type of family so he would get an opportunity to release a book albeit a not very good one (though it's never said it's not good, just boring). And the publisher might easily be a small, independent publisher, not one of the big ones. What I most struggled with initially was the book blowing up in Mexico, after being translated into Spanish, when Spanish is spoken in like half the Western Hemisphere, so it should have been successful everywhere. But if it was an obscure release, it doesn't seem as unreasonable? I mean, Maria is not a full-time translator, she does it as a side hustle, so she might not get to translate, say, Stephen King or even Colleen Hoover, lol. Anyway, nothing in the film says the book (and the sequel on which they're working on) won't find success in the rest of the Spanish-speaking world.

What I wanted to say, though, is that I like this romance and it's actually similar to Daisy and Billy, except there's no infidelity and no drugs. Henry at first has no interest in working with Maria, and she is very laid back compared to his stiff English manner, but Pedro, the Mexican publisher (and the highlight of the film, honestly, the best character) manages to persuade him, using only a couple of lines--this is where they made the premise work. You can look at him as a combination of Teddy Price and Rod Reyes. (I think he's supposed to be gay?) They even work on the book's sequel in his house. Also, he totally ships them, lol.

Maria has a son from a previous relationship with a complete douchebag and Henry makes an effort to bond with him. Also we hear Sam speaking Spanish here, something that DJATS (in which Sam's character was married to a Latina woman) never even attempted to do.

What I like best about Book of Love is that it avoid tired jokes about English vs Mexican food, although generally, of course, the differences in cultures are mentioned. Also the fact that they're from different backgrounds: Henry - privileged, Maria - less so, and, you know, the small fact that Maria is a woman trying to make it as a writer. If nothing else, the locations in Mexico are gorgeous.

The film won an Imagen award for Best Primetime Program - Special of Movie, Imagen awards are given for best Latin/Hispanic representation. And was nominated for Best Casting in Feature Film and Drama by Casting Directors Association. So that's at least some recognition.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

rant, anti-capitalist internet hot take

the worst thing about old games is that they are hard, but the best thing is that there are game guides online that are actually helpful and correct bc they were made before articles on the internet were all just for making profit :( i'm playing RE1 remake rn and i've looked up walkthroughs bc i keep getting confused and i just find lil guides on neoseeker and game faqs (also steam community, but that's newer i assume?), but i see stuff from 2002 posted on the internet and it's so cute to me and also "wow" bc we didn't have the internet at my house until maybe 2007? (I was born in 2000, so obviously i wasn't using the internet in 2002). it's like your friend's big brother or dad sitting on the couch with you and your friend and helping you beat a hard level of a game 🥹 like it's just some cool guys you know and look up to when you're a lil kid playing the gamecube and they help you out and idk shit like that gives me happy tears bc everything sucks these days!!!! (in my holden caulfield era, my therapist called it)

instead of big companies (ew capitalism) like ign and gamerant which consistently give 1. less information than what i needed and 2 wrong information - verifiably incorrect, like, i was looking at something about RE4 remake (mind you, i have 150-200 hours, and i'm working on getting 100%, so i know a lot about the gameplay at this point) and there was something blatantly wrong on one of those sites, plus, they have fucking endless ads, so if i'm on my phone (bc i don't wanna use my computer on the couch) loading it is impossible!!! (i have horrendous wifi bc i live in SC).

i hate that like every article on the front page of google is written for profit (and half of them by AI)!! i look up writing advice a lot and i almost never find anything useful. but once I found like the best page ever and i looked to see when it was published and it was clearly a super old webpage (tbh kinda hard to read) and it was someone's advice from their book published in 1999. back when we could have good advice.

also, people really discount fanfiction but all the romance related fanfiction that i've read is so much better than contemporary romance writers (colleen hoover et al.) and it's bc we don't get paid to do it! we're literally just getting excited about things we like and bonding (and even the people who do commissions and stuff are people who actually care, not like a big shitty corporation)

i should ask ign/gamerant for a job as a fact checker of some sort. i'll be like "please, ill literally do it for free bc it pisses me off so much". me emailing them: your articles are so bad i want to kms

also, fuck ign for giving until dawn a 7.5/10, that game was at least a 9 if not a 10 and i'm strict with my 10/10s!!!! reading that article i can truly say, wholeheartedly, that i rarely see worse opinions than that

basically, in conclusion, the industrial revolution and its consequences yadda yadda

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

ok one of the things that i really dislike about booktok and similar online book communities at least from like. my experience with them because i avoid them most of the time now. is the thing where there's one half that doesn't really care and is usually the "let people enjoy things" group and will read sjm and colleen hoover or like all of the popular problematic booktok books or whatever. and then there's the other side that is a lot better about reading diversely and social justice issues in general which is great in theory and certainly has a positive effect to whatever extent but like. it all seems so weird to me because the point of all of these communities doesn't seem to be to just like talk to other people about your love of a book or even use it as a public reading journal it mostly seems to be about having a platform. and then whatever book you read and talk about on your platform you're either endorsing or condemning. so at some point it just feels like a huge percentage of it is just virtue signaling? like i'm sorry but i'd rather talk to an sjm reader who checked acotar out from the library and can acknowledge that a lot of it is shitty while still enjoying it for the escapism or whatever than someone who's bought and read every single book on whatever booktok list of new releases by queer and bipoc authors and took nothing away from any of the books. like ok great thank you so much for that list of x type of books written by authors from x marginalized group can you actually tell me what the book is about and what you got from it or is the most meaningful thing about it to you the fact that you read it which means you can now recommend me a book written by an author from [insert marginalized group here]? and this isn't every single person who has one of those platforms like there are definitely people who genuinely care it just seems so widespread and it's so fucking weird. like i have personally tried to find representation for myself by looking at these lists and i'm disappointed almost every time because believe it or not! a book having representation doesn't make it good or make the representation good or make it something you would actually enjoy reading!

then also like. sure yes. half of the issue is that on an individual level people need to do more to support marginalized authors and read things outside of their experience because that is a thing you should do because obviously (though i don't think it's going to do much if you're not willing to develop the reading comprehension to actually take anything away from it). but also. publishing companies are absolutely horrible and from my understanding booktok certainly is not making it any better, especially for marginalized authors. authors should not have to be able to sell a persona on fucking tiktok and be conventionally attractive enough for people to watch your tiktoks to be able to get published. not every book should need to be consumable to a large audience and incorporate whatever fucking tiktok trope is currently trending to sell. and if you genuinely want to help marginalized authors and are building a platform for yourself in an online book community why the fuck are you promoting and partnering with and doing free marketing for deeply bigotted publishing companies that pose systemic barriers to marginalized authors that are arguably much more of a threat than some allocishet white girl at barnes and noble who only reads colleen hoover books. and i don't know what the solution to this is but jesus christ this is driving me insane. like oh? you read one of the three new releases x publishing company was willing to publish despite their quota on the number of books they're willing to publish each year with a protagonist from x marginalized group? and they even gave you a free copy?? to promote it for them!! for free?!? wow. congratulations. would you like a free sticker. that also promotes their publishing company. so you can do more free advertising for them. instead of them actually giving enough of a shit about marginalized authors to put effort into promoting them that goes beyond free advertising on fucking tiktok and like. a post that features authors from x marginalized group on their instagram once a year.

[ileftherbackhome]

watched a yt video where the author was like givng their reasons for changing their mind to go from the self publishing route to the traditional published route and their biggest reasoning for it was along the lines of "being traditionally published would give me the certainty of knowing im good enough" and i just... that innocence was inspiring but also like... fourth wing and everlark got book deals babe... all being trad published means is that your product is sellable, that says nothing about the quality of the work. heck colleen hoover is a huge author with a massive fanbase and i dont think her books are good, at least not in the way i would define goodness.

and i think that cemented for me that self publishing is the way that i want to take my writing career because i believe if i write enough books and learn the craft really well, my writing is good enough to be successful with or without "big publishing" backing me, if that makes sense.

im writing this in case any of yall are thinking about writing a novel too and which way to go via publishing because if your fear of "not being good enough" is the only thing pushing you to signing away your creative rights, i would encourage you to believe in yourself and your dedication to learning your craft enough that you believe you can stand on your own via just good reviews and a great book cover/sell pitch to your target audience.

especially if you want to write in a more niche market (all my characters are autistic because i am autistic and its impossible to divorce that from my writing human beings who feel real to me), i encourage you to look at self publishing as a more practical option because the reality is if the market isnt there for the work you are making, you will never get a publishing deal or if you get one, you will be given unfair treatment and put at the bottom of the list. it's unfair but you cannot go into signing away your creative rights with rose colored glasses on and the wrong belief that it inherently says anything about the quality of your work other than it has mass public appeal.

bad authors get huge book deals all the time. good authors die without ever getting any readers or recognition for their work.

understand the market says nothing about your valur as a writer is i guess what i am trying to say and how you publish your book says nothing other than how much money and time you have to give your book writing business.

like trad publishing is very valid to seek but only if you feel like you cannot dedicate the time and most importantly THE MONEY to publishing your novels. i will always advocate for creatives owning the rights to their work and i just do not like the idea of having a publishing company tell me what to name my novel or how to write certain scenes for example. if you also feel like that, you do not have to go trad publishing just because you feel like it says something about the quality of your work. it doesn't.

remember that. the quality of your work comes down to the time you spend learning your craft and that is it. if you don't write, you don't get better. you are a good author if you write and continue to write and finish novel after novel after novel because you are writing and learning with every sentence you craft. you cannot be an expert level author without dedicating time to learning how to do your craft.

that's the key to success. take the time to learn your craft and eventually you get good at it. you will become a good writer, you just have to write.

[sluttypatrickstar]

liveblogging the horrors: without merit by colleen hoover (part 4)

(part 3 is here)

chapter nine

new chapter and more of the same old sagan angst. merit is doing the laundry and considering how honor’s nightgowns and pajamas are so much sexier than hers and her hair always looks better even though they’re identical and merit wonders what it feels like to be so sexy i guess. so she puts on honor’s nightgown and puts her hair in the braid that honor does and Of Course This Is When She Runs Into Sagan, who mistakes her for honor. merit does not correct this and instead pretends to be her sister.

ironically, for someone who’s busy judging her sister for being away cheating (merit also does not know this to be true, this is an assumption), merit proceeds to make sagan cheat on his girlfriend with her by pretending to be his girlfriend. merit despises every other cheater in the book but ofc it’s fine when is about her.

he actually twigs that she’s merit after seeing a band aid on her hand that he put there. and then he kisses her even harder! merit still not judging him for now actively and knowingly cheating. it’s fine bcus she’s now ruthlessly making out with him

then for a second he thinks her consent falters and this moment of stopping to reassess the situation and ask some questions. like, why did merit-as-honor kiss him? and merit is like, bcus honor is your girlfriend. except it turns out that sagan and honor were not dating (so merit’s love interest doesn’t have to be a filthy cheater that she hates i guess lol), and sagan realises how fucked up the situation he was just in is.

absolutely shocked that no one has called merit, who is certifiably an absolute asshole to everybody in her life especially her family, an asshole before. feel bad about it bitch.

[mejomonster]

Gotta remind myself everyday at least i write better than advance bravely... even if its an awful draft i dont know how to do. Or than that colleen hoover excerpt i saw...

On another note. I think i get so into the focus of "biased perspective narration" and "show dont tell" that i forget JUST HOW MUCH exposition IS IN TONS OF GOOD WRITING. Like... The Expanse? Plenty more exposition and explanations of background info than i let myself write (and its great for including those explanations i think), or MDZS has plenty of explanations of things (the magic and world and background details of people not shown in action yet/or shown And explained) and its fine. Its fun. Its enjoyable, its not like it ruins the stories, if anything it serves them fine to great.