#late night fanfic writing thoughts
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I think Nell should be allowed to swear. I know this is a family friendly show but I just think it would be very cathartic for her. And very attractive for me.
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I am keeping him B
A/N: Stress late night writing, while I am supposed to sleep cause I still got work tomorrow but screw my life...
It all started with the disappearance of Box Ghost, followed by Spectra. Back then, Danny didn't realize what was happening, and he still blamed himself for that. What a fine bridge of balance he was....
The next to disappear had been Elli and Danny had mobilize whatever he could to organize a search party when he lost contact. After Elli, Ember was next. Maybe by then Danny should be realized.
Dan was the next in line of disappearances. Vlad was the one making Danny aware of it. Everything Danny had mobilized in his search for Elli was extended to find Dan now, too.
Shortly after Dan, Vlad also disappeared from the face of earth. If he hadn't already be worried Danny would have been now. His events tripled, sleepless nights followed, days in which Jazz practically had to force him to sleep.
One by one all the Ghosts Danny knew disappeared. Maybe he would have realized it sooner if he had paid more attention to certain things, to the news to politics, to anything really. Maybe then Danny would be noticed the appearance of Dalv.Co and his parents invention on the black market. The sudden spike in Meta traficing following or the sudden interest in Ecto-entities.
But he hadn't...
...and that probably what was what costed him too.
Because, one day, he woke up in a dark cell, still in his Phantom transformation but with a collar around his neck. It zapped him any time he touched it or tried to let go of his ghost form. It was like a reverse of the stupid taser Vlad had. There were no mirrors or anything he could use to see himself with, but he had a feeling that collar used Fenton tech. He also realized that he was in a more eldrich kind of transformation. His hands that usually were in white gloves when in phantom form were clawed and inky black with sparks that reminded Danny of the night sky's above Amity Park. He couldn't tell if he looked anything like himself or not, but judging by his hands, probably not.
That day, when Danny woke up in that cell, he realized the reason behind the disappearances of his family and ghost rogues. Just like there was a spike in Meta trafficking, the growing interest had also developed into Ecto-Entity trafficking and worse was, they weren't even protected by law. The Anti-Ecto Acts are making it not even a real or all too big of a crime.
Months passed, and Danny learned to shut his mouth and emotions out. He thought he was even in a state disassociation, Jazz would have been proud of him for his self diagnosis, maybe. With the passing days, Danny stopped remembering who owned him and who he was forced to fight. Sometimes, his eyes came to live when he met one of his old friends in the battle rings. Tho their fights were no longer a form or bonding, it still felt nice to sometimes feel the heat of Ember's flames, the sting of Skulkers blasters or even see a box get thrown at him.
Of course, he had tried to escape or save at least one of the others before, but whoever modified his parents' inventions knew what they were doing. All his attempts were met with failure.
But then the day everything changed came. Danny didn't know how long it had been, all he knew was that a stupid clown was his current holder. The guy spouted some nonsense or wanting to see how a bat, of all animals held himself against one of the strongest ecto-entiies. Danny really wanted to refuse, yell at that fruitloop of a clown and be done with the World.
But what he didn't expect to happen that day was the shock of electricity, the ricochet of a bullet, the crack of metal... and the collar falling of his neck.
Suddenly, Danny no longer felt like he was trapped in his own body, like he was just an onlooker, but at the same time, he had never felt this tired before. He stumbled forward his body losing whatever momentum he had before. It was a single arm that saved him from faceplanting.
"Fuck! That thing was actually a kid!"
"What?!"
"I am going to fucking murder the clown."
Danny blinked slowly as he felt his awareness sliding from him, yet he still couldn't help muttering at least something before the world would go dark. "Get in line, I really hate clowns, and he is the nightmare realm fodder."
Danny felt the arm holding him shaking, and he really wanted to close his eyes and sleep, but right before he did, in fact, black out from pure exhaustion, he heard one last thing. "I don't give a fuck, B. I like this kid so I am keeping him."
#danny fenton#dp x dc#danny phantom#dpxdc#dcxdp#crossover#jason todd#fanfic#i am sleep deprived#late night stress writing#hope any of this makes sense#Jason going to keep Danny#batfam to the rescue#once danny is awake again a lot of bad guys will wish he wasn't#random late night thoughts
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sometimes I think they put some sort of...aural drug in mediocre movies. If I played all these thoroughly middling movies in reverse, would I hear a satanic message telling me, YOU WILL BE TEMPTED BEYOND ALL REASON TO WRITE FANFIC ABOUT---YES, THE MOVIE YOU HALF-WATCHED WHILE COOKING AND ANSWERING EMAILS. YES. YES, I---YES, I'M SERIOUS. YES, THIS MOVIE. THE CHARACTERIZATION OR LACK THEREOF MAKES NO DIFFERENCE. UH HUH. MHM. YEP. LOOK, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES, I JUST WORK HERE OKAY?
#I watched a horror film and unfortunately now want a novel about the last 10 minutes of it.#this feeling never ever happens with good media! good media is a thing unto itself and I don't want to touch it.#it only happens with mediocre things.#though it is nice to discover that whatever neuron fires and prompts ''you want to write a self-indulgent novel about this''#isn't dead. I genuinely thought it was! it turns out I was watching and reading too much good art.#rookie mistake. I only want to make fanfic about the kind of movies you watch late at night while also scrolling#they are 3/4ths bad but that remaining 1/4 is going to rattle something loose in my skull
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so I went to a bookstore with my friend the other day, and they saw that a new book in a series they liked was released and they were like “omg! is it actually? no way!” and anyways they searched it up and saw that it was indeed another installment that was recently published, which they hadn’t heard about before. and then they were like “I wasn’t planning on spending more money but I have to buy this! I’m gonna have to pull an all-nighter tonight I just can’t wait to finish it!”
and maybe it’s cause I’m a writer, but like that kinda hit me hard because I want someone to be so excited over something I wrote?? idk like the thought of someone being so happy to read one of my works that they’d be willing to spend money and lose sleep over it is just crazy. I know it probably doesn’t seem like much, and maybe it isn’t, but honestly I feel like that would just be the highest honor as a writer. to have someone care so much about your writing.
it may be unrealistic, but I truly aspire to write like that. and I really do hope to reach that point where someday, somewhere, someone out there gets that excited to read one of my works. like that would honestly mean the world to me.
(idk if this even makes sense, I’m probably high off of sleep deprivation, so sorry if it doesn’t 😭 also sorry for my random ranting just thought of this ahaha 😅)
#lilac's rants#writing#writing stuff#writing things#writing problems#late night writing#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writerscommunity#late night thoughts#late night rants#random thoughts#writers can relate#fanfic writers
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We need more modern day creepypastas. 2024 creepypasta writers rise up, the fandom is starving. Feed us, woof woof bark bark/pos
#creepypasta#creepypasta blog#creepypasta fandom#thoughts#thinking#existence#late night thoughts#life#a new proxy character or just a new character in general to obsess over would be SO GREAT RN#creepypasta writing#creepypasta comic#creepypasta oc#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta fanfic#creepypasta family#creepypasta characters#creepypasta character#slender proxy#creepypasta proxy
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Mhin: Poorly Disguised || Mhin x Unspecified MC (Dom!MC is implied??) Rating: T || CW: Implied future misuse of a Senobium (clergy/government?) uniform. Brothel mention in narrative. Stolen clothes that don't fit. Premise: crack treated seriously.
Mhin's arms are crossed tightly, eyes closed, breaths carefully even. They can hear the shuffling of fabric behind them. Uncertain steps. The sound of your bandaged hands smoothing down starched fabric.
A long stretch of silence.
Their eyebrow twitches in impatience; they lose count of the exhalations they were taking a census of.
“Mhin, I…uh, I don't think this is going to work.”
Mhin turns to you impatiently, a sharp question poised on their lips, but once their eyes land on you they see exactly what you mean.
The Senobium uniform hugs the contours of your body far too tightly for propriety. The buttons on the blouse are splayed open a scandalous amount, unable to close due to the poor fit of the stolen garment, thus allowing Mhin a teasing glimpse of your chest. The tempting image of you is burned in their mind before they can look away, the heart that they had been keeping so carefully in check while you changed now racing.
You don't look a single bit like you'd be mistaken for a legitimate member of the clergy, not even to the uncaring or untrained eye. Not that much of anyone could possibly look away from you, once they’ve caught a glimpse…
Idiot, don't you know what you–
Mhin feels the heat staining their face as they press their palms against their eyes as if to ward off a headache. They need to reign themselves in before they forget all self control. They aren't going to allow themselves to look at you again while you're still wearing that.
Not that it helps. Mhin won’t be forgetting what they saw any time soon. You look like someone's very expensive, if very heretical, fantasy. Mhin doesn't even want to guess what someone might pay at Elyon’s brothel just to look at you, let alone…
“This was a stupid idea,” Mhin spits through hands still shielding their face. If they are lucky you'll mistake their body language for an expression of pure frustration and not the attempt to hide their blush that it is.
But Mhin has never been very lucky.
They're so flustered that they don’t even hear you approach–your lips brushing against their ear as you speak comes as a surprise, their cursed predator-sharp instincts gone silent.
“Maybe not that terrible of an idea…” you posit. Mhin shivers despite themself; if you didn't know the effect you had on them before, you certainly do now.
They can feel the fever of you against their side, can feel you like an arrow to the heart, leaning into them with your body, your own hands held carefully out of the way. You chuckle darkly, pressing a dizzying kiss against the sensitive skin covering their parotid before you rest your chin sweetly in the curve of their neck and shoulder.
“You put all that work into getting this uniform for us, Mhin... I know it turned out to be a dead end but... I should still reward you for your hard work, right?”
Against their better judgment, Mhin drops their hands. Turns to face you. Finds their fingers pressing urgently into your skin, curving along your jaw giving you the very touch they so often wish they could receive from you. The ease with which you welcome their kiss–the way you've anticipated their eager capitulation–is something they'll have to scold themself about at a later date. For now...
It is unwise to allow a debt to go unpaid in this city.
#time to get lucky mhin#time to go undercover but not how you thought#/gets jailed for pun crimes#mhin touchstarved#touchstarved fanfic#touchstarved game#i had this q'd on their bday then i decided i didnt know if i liked it - a toxic perfectionism story#happy late bday to Mhin tho mwah#Atheris playing katy perry's bday song on repeat until Mhin turns it off cmon babe lets have a real wild night&watch ur favorite documentar#i used to word 'heretical' which means this is lowkey ft. Atheris#*BIG SIGH* adds to self-prompt list: this but with Vere... >:)#toxintouch writing#atheris in the tags#atheris-coded
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Warning Spicy topic below king boo/Luigi 😈
So I'm trying to write a one shot of Luigi coming home to his mansion in need of a relaxing shower and he gets ambushed by a horny king boo.
I started to write with just that but as I was writing before I got to dialog I thought about not adding any? Like letting the setting and their body language do the talking.
But now I've added dialog and I hate it. I would like to state I can't flirt to save a life let alone my own 😂 and my attempt at a playful hint of my fic The Devil's Trap feels a little forced 🙃
So Boo suprises Luigi in the shower, nice visuals mentioned beforehand, added tension because Lu starts getting paranoid, Boo is sneaking a peek, scaring him with lights flickering, an almost touch here and there, some sounds.
Before shoving Lu to the wall and basically enjoying the sight of his semi invisible dick plundering Luigi...to run into the dreaded how do I word that phase of the fic.
And what fucking form is boo in? The king boo from the games or the fan made humanoid boo? Both? Some mystery third option?!?!
I'm going to literally stew over this supposed to be simple spicy one shot 😑 which was not the intention... not to mention naming the damned thing 😂 so far i have it saved under Steam Powered Luigi.
I never was good at naming things 🤣😅
#on writing#creative writing#fanfic#writing#why do i do this to myself#booigi#late night thoughts#wtf is this#idk why#super mario bros#King Boo/ Luigi#spicy fic
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Flashback to high school me who was convinced that prior to writing a Naruto fic I had to teach myself how to cook/prepare tomatoes in at least 35 different ways.
Sasuke didn't appear once in that fic.
#dreamer talks#fanfiction writing#late night thoughts#personal#writing#fanfic writing#sasuke uchiha#naruto#sasuke#I'll leave it up to y'all to figure out#why knowing that info was so important#hint: it wasn't ship related
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I’m trapped in one of those assigned role fan fiction worlds where I’m a cat regressor, except the owner I got assigned to by the government is a piece of shit that just leaves me to roam outside all day, so I just decimate the local bird population until I’m flattened by a car.
#hypothetical#fanfiction#regression#pet regression#cat regression#cat regressor#fanfic worlds#fanfic tropes#assigned role#assigned role fanfic#cats#cat#meow#meow meow#meow :3#owner#pet regressor#pet regressor fanfic#one time i dreamt#one sentence story#one sentence horror#late night tumblr#late night writing#late night ramblings#late night thoughts#late night post#late night musings#late night rambles#delete later#in all seriousness keep your cats inside
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i like reading other people's fanfics too
sometimes I'll stumble across a really old fanfic
Such as today I found these Soriku fanfics i really enjoyed
#kingdom hearts#soriku#fanfics fanfiction#writing#late night thoughts#aitsu heart#I don't just write my own sometimes i read too which i also enjoy
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me fixing/posting a chapter of my work-in-progress story idea about my vaguely-fandom-related OCs: the 3 people who regularly come back are gonna LOVE this
#void keith talks#gremlin shenanigans#late night thoughts#just getting off of a sugar high being like “wow i should write something” so. i did#fixed RBTU chapter 3 but now a different chapter's title is bugging out :(#fic stuff#fanfic stuff#fanfiction stuff
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The impostor syndrome with writing is so real because I’ll be lying awake like “all my OCs have similar traits which must mean I’m not imaginative :(” and then a little while later I’m like “actually they’re all parallels of each other in different ways which means they’re connected across different universes and maybe that’s sexy and fun and beautiful in its own way.” So.
#fanfic#archive of our own#ao3#fanfiction#writing#writers on tumblr#fanfic writing#ocs#this post is brought to you by#my late night thoughts#also it might not be impostor syndrome#but you get the point
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Dumb question incoming:
Has Milidiana ever been referenced to do anything related to paperwork? Maybe helping her husband with it/in reunions? Because if so, I can't remember for the life of me.
#i need a reason as to why she would stay awake late at night#yes i'm writing again#no idk if i'll end up posting it#hamefura#my next life as a villainess#fanfic#edit: i'm stupid and wrote bureaucracy instead of paperwork bc i thought it was the same shit#it shows i've never stepped into an office/i know shit about politics#i will proceed to treat paperwork as bureaucracy tho
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alright here's the essay under the cut.
entirely just my experience w/ MASH, almost no editing [just spelling mistakes and a few apostrophe misuses]. fair warning, my father was [is] an alcoholic and a horrible person, and i mention that a bit, so if thats something you're sensitive to, bewarned.
My story with M*A*S*H begins a hundred years ago when I was somewhere between 5 and 8, old enough to watch television but not old enough to remember how old I was when I was doing it. The childhood I had was overall unremarkable, marred only by my pitiful excuse for a father that parented by either drinking or being hungover on the couch in between screaming at his children or beating his wife. Unfortunately, he is part of this story, but only accidentally. See, he used to do all that stuff in our unfinished basement, on an old ugly couch, hiding from his family all day. Then, eventually, he decided he liked the couch and television upstairs better, and plagued the family room for many years instead, putting whatever he wanted to watch on instead of letting his children watch cartoons. I ended up liking The Three Stooges quite a lot, less out of actually thinking it was fun and more out of it being the only thing he’d put on that I found remotely entertaining, so I was taking what I could get. We kept the old burned CDs he’d made of them after he moved out.
Anyway. My mother had (and still has) a television in her room (it used to be their room, but she kicked him out) that she could avoid him with. Not wanting to be around the violent cesspool of a person on my couch, I’d sometimes crawl to her room, so as not to let him see me and have him make me come over and listen to some music or whatever he wanted. Old guitarist reliving his glory days or something, I couldn’t tell you. But anyway, I’d enter her room and sit down on her bed with her or on the floor, and we’d watch TV. More often than not, she’d put on MeTV, because she watched those old shows with her own father, and it was a bright spot in her memory that gave her some escapism too. There were a lot of shows on there, but I only really ever remembered things like Gilligan’s Island, ALF, Columbo, Bewitched, The Twilight Zone, and, of course, M*A*S*H.
I liked the other shows, of course. I remember them fondly, especially Gilligan’s Island, maybe it was the catchy theme song with words I could learn. I didn’t like how brown and gross Columbo was, but my mom explained that that’s just how it looked back then. I thought the puppet on ALF was funny, and The Twilight Zone scared me, but I was still interested. I remember enough of Bewitched to remember the nose wiggle and constantly mix it up with I Dream of Jeannie for some reason. Really, anything was better than watching the same episode of Farscape again, which I’ve heard is actually a very good show, but my father kept forgetting that he’d already made me start watching it, and so every viewing session was just the pilot. That’s also the reason I never learned Spanish.
But then I got to M*A*S*H. I won’t lie to you and say that, as a wizened 5-to-8-year-old, I could ‘tell something was special’ about this show. It was a show. It was a show that I remember looking at my mom during, and seeing her really happy. Later she told me, after watching it with me in present day, that she would watch it with her own father, before her parents got divorced. Her father more or less was not present in her life after the split, and that happened when she was 14-ish. The show started airing when she was the age I was when I watched it with her, and she and her father made a weekly thing of it. Neither of us at that age should have watched it, but for both of us, it was forming a little bright spot in our minds, a good dream with a parent when times were tough.
I remember laughing, even if I didn’t get all the jokes. I remember thinking I liked the shade of red one of the characters wore, and also the shade of dark blue the same character wore sometimes. I remember one or both of my siblings being there sometimes, laughing along. One of my siblings told me recently that B.J. Hunnicutt and John ‘Trapper’ McIntyre, both filling roles as doubles partners for Benjamin Franklin ‘Hawkeye’ Pierce, had merged into the same person in their memory. I thought that was hilarious; how could they ever think those were the same person! B.J. Hunnicutt had a mustache! Imagine my surprise re-watching season 4’s opener, ‘Welcome to Korea’, featuring a clean-cut fresh-faced Mike Farrell, lacking the horse brush I had so clearly remembered him housing under his nose.
But the rewatching, yes, the rewatching. It started innocently enough. Between breaks at college, far beyond my young-youth, the real youth people mean when they use that word, my mother opened it up on the tv and put it on. No matter what era you go to in our household, the TV was always going. Most of the time no one was watching it, sometimes blatantly, loudly, explosively chattering and guffawing and gasping with our own business and ignoring it entirely. It was background noise, we all needed it, so we always had it. But something a little strange happened; my mother was watching it, as she often did when she put something on in the evenings to massage her brain to bed after a long day at work. I was typing away at something on my laptop, like I am now, sitting on the couch with her, which I am also doing now (although she’s long gone to bed), and I looked up.
I saw Hawkeye.
It didn’t feel like a rush of emotion, it didn’t feel like something important was happening. That was just my old friend. Looking absolutely horrible with the haircut he was rocking in the pilot, but I remembered him. The pilot doesn’t open with the theme, as I recognized that as soon as it played, it opens with golf, a little vignette of the camp before the choppers come in with wounded. I saw Hawkeye, I saw his shirt, and it really was like when you see an old friend, one you can’t really remember what all you did with, or where you met, or even each other’s names anymore, but you know they mean something to you. You knew this person, and you liked them, you liked them enough that even though you forgot everything else, you remember the love that was there.
And it was a very small thing that happened, and it didn’t happen with every episode, but I would pause my music. My own background noise to drown out everyone else’s background noise, blasting into my headphones. I’d pause my music, read the subtitles, hear them faintly through muffled ears, and laugh along. Smile when I’d see a smile, and a little more than half pay attention.
I went back to college, life went on, we only got maybe to the beginning of season two, but my mom didn’t continue without me. She waited, and eventually, I came home for the summer, summer of 2024.
She put it on again, and the same thing happened. But this time, I way more than half paid attention. I really paid attention. By the time we got to Abyssinia, Henry, I completely paused whatever I was doing when it was on and sat, laptop open, head at a 45 degree angle to watch the TV. I’d still futz around during commercial breaks, but I waited for the commercial breaks to do anything now. More and more it warmed my heart, to see all these old friends I’d forgot about, drag them all out of the closet, finally see B.J. Hunnicutt with that stupid mustache again for the first time in over 15 years at least—it was all so amazing. I was laughing at this show that came out over 20 years before I was even born. My parents hadn’t even met yet when this thing ended. Then, of course, because of the way my brain unfortunately works, it is now all I can think about it, to the point I’ve convinced several people to watch it just by virtue of never-shutting-the-hell-up.
And then? I finally got to see all my friends go home.
I remember the night I watched the finale with my mother. We’d gotten to the penultimate episode, and we’d paused. It was near 8ish, near my mother’s bedtime, and she and I both agreed we could not handle the finale that night, it was too much. And so we put on something, My Name is Earl, anything to make noise, something funny, something light. That’s how the next several days went; do we feel like we can handle the end? No. Tonight? Maybe tomorrow. Maybe after dinner? It was a long day.
But then, after dishes had been cleared and we were both sitting quietly, the sun had already gone down, and she proposes we watch it.
So we did.
I don’t cry at things anymore. I used to cry all the time as a kid, scraped knee, called an idiot by a sibling, way too much crying even for a kid. I got it out of my system, apparently, because now I’m an adult and I have trouble with making tears, and when they do come, they sneak up on me. The last time I remember crying was at my grandmother’s funeral, months ago, and before that, I have no idea. I get misty-eyed, sure, but nothing makes me boohoo.
The same held for the finale. Contrasted heavily by my mother, the woman that regularly cries at especially-touching commercials, shedding a few for every other scene (the bus revelation, the final meal, Charles’s music adventure finale, the wedding dress, every single goodbye, and of course the big one at the end), I was mostly quiet. I remember it ending, and thinking, well, that was about the best finale I’d ever seen. I also thought about how I’d seen strikingly few finales, and that I ought to see more series through til the end. I spoke with my mother a bit about it, we had some good moments from the program tossed back and forth, and she went to bed.
Then I took a shower, and after I got out, the floodgates busted. I was boohooing alright, blubbering too, but I couldn’t point to why. Sure, there were moments in the episode worthy of tears, but this was full sobbing, aching and pitiful and messy. I just left it as something not to worry about, and went on. Since then, on my own, I’ve rewatched select episodes, watched the finale (again) with the sibling that confused Trapper and B.J., done three paintings of stills from the show, made a miniature version of the signpost for my mom, and started writing again for the express purpose of doing things with these characters, and I’ve only now put a fine point on it. It’s a threefold answer of why I fell apart leaving the shower after watching an episode of television that aired 40 years ago.
The first is simple; I have got it in my head that I need to be alright for everyone. If I’m happy, then everything is okay. I think it’s a relic from what made me stop crying, this need to tell everyone, “Hey, I’m the crybaby, so if I’m okay, then really, everything is okay!” My tears are (were) meant to be shed in private. They were my own cross to bear, especially for places like the bathroom where I could get privacy, as I shared a room with a sibling growing up. This is something I’m getting better about.
The second answer is very warm; I finished M*A*S*H with my mom. I remember my grandfather, though he wasn’t too present in my life, and I loved him. He passed when I was young, but I was old enough to remember him, and his death date is near my birthday. My birthday is actually near a lot of either death-dates or birthdays of people that are now dead that my mom loved very much, so I am constantly reminded that my birth is the only good thing that happens to her that month. Finishing the show with her was special. We did it. It’s a tradition now. I don’t plan to have kids, but the future may be strange. At the very least, I know at least one sibling does, so I’ll just have to make sure their kids watch it, too. I don’t have anything of my grandfather’s, his family wasn’t kind to mine and took pretty much everything when he died, but now I have this show. And I have this with my mother. It keeps my heart warm.
And lastly, the thing responsible for the most boohooing, is that, like I said; I got to see my friends go home.
I didn’t really think about it hard, but these were my little friends. I couldn’t remember them, but I remembered that I loved them. That they were something that made me happy, and made my very sad mother happy when I was little. They were funny, they were going through a very bad time and they were still being nice to each other and doing their best. They laughed, cried, cried some more, laughed some more. They drank, but in a safer way than what I knew of it at home, so it felt okay. They hugged, they fought, they loved each other. Then they were locked away in a little memory in my heart, and they sat there for over a decade, nearly two. And then those lovely people that made my life a little bit better finally, finally,
Got to go home.
A catharsis.
Everything isn’t perfect, but all of us are somewhere better now. We have new problems. We have old scars. But the big bad is over. A little part of me healed. It was okay, finally. They got home. It’s okay.
And if I can pick up a show from the 70’s about the 50’s that’s also still about the 70’s and the Vietnam war about all war that’s also about love and family and surgery with a cast that’s almost all gone now that so painfully soldered its place in my heart that watching the end of it all put me in a puddle on the floor of my bathroom at 11 at night, if I can wait 15 years and still manage to rouse these old soldiers and send them home, a little cracked but finally safe,
I think B.J. Hunnicutt can drive those 3,000 miles to a little place in Maine to see his best friend.
#mash#mash 4077#m*a*s*h#mashblr#mashblogging#sorry gamers we're in our feels this morning just like we were at 2 am last night#it also helps explain why im riding this hyperfixation so hard. not only am i unmedicated#but also this show has a lot of latent emotions for me entangled with memories i didnt remember til recently#writing fanfic got my brain on the Writing train again and at roughly 1:20ish last night i started writing and couldnt stop#finally went to bed at around 2:10 am. way too late for me 1 is already pushing it#didnt tell anyone abt the bathroom thing after the finale and lied to my family that i didnt cry cause i was embarrassed#but we workin on that. we're getting Better#but yeah if its not legible i Apologize its just Me Brain with No Edits and Little Thought#and also 1-2 am so. not the sharpest. hence repeated phrases#godspeed god bless crags fail to trip your feet etc etc smooches#.yappin
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does anyone else feel completely uninspired and unmotivated for the entire day, and then at 12-3 am get hit by the most raw, powerful motivation and proceed to write the most poetic and masterfully worded lines ever written?
like how do you explain to a normal person that the Motivation is a fragile and fleeting thing, and I can't control when I have it, so when it happens to come to me, I Must Use It (even if it means I get no sleep)
#writers#writer struggles#motivation#sleep deprivation#fanfic writers#late night motivation#random thoughts#relatable#writing things#motivation struggles#procrastination#procrastination struggles#late night writing#night motivation#feeling unmotivated#inspiration#writers can relate#late night fanfic#midnight vibes
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I’m writing a new Vincenzo fanfic for Whumptober, and I have to be admit I’m ridiculously excited for it; it won’t be released immediately, but I still have quite a few fanfictions in this fandom planned for the event. Let me just say-
Jang Hanseo is a big part of it. I’m snarling in my own excitement - they do end in a good way, though my characters have to suffer first. He’s also not the only one who suffers which will be made clear when the first in the Vincenzo fanfics drops. They’re not all connected, but that’s all you’re getting for now.
Also there’s a non-Whumptober related idea I will be talking about eventually! Keep in mind it is going to be dark but there’s still a good outcome in the end. The same cannot be said for Hanseok, but anyway—
Enough rambling. I’m just… a little excited now that I know the Vincenzo fandom is still very much alive.
#destiny talks#ramblings#late night rambles#late night thoughts#late night post#whump fic#whump fanfiction#fic update#this doesn’t make any sense but oh well!#korean drama#k drama#vincenzo#tvn vincenzo#vincenzo cassano#jang han seo#jang hanseo#hong cha young#fanfiction writer#fanfic writing#whumptober#hyperfixation#im hyperfixating again#can you tell im hyperfixating#i am hyperfixating
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