#now. time to stop posting about writing and actually write

[ao3commentoftheday]

I'm over 350k words into writing a very long fic that's about halfway done, and lately, I feel like quitting. I've considered posting the outline as a final chapter to give people closure and then just walking away from it.

But I also really want to be able to actually finish it because the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it.

I feel trapped between not wanting to work on it anymore and wanting to finish this story that I've already poured so much time and love into. I want to finish it as much as I want to quit. But the idea of going on is almost agonizing.

Part of why I've been wanting to quit is because my health went downhill about 8 months into working on it, and it has only got worse since then, and that makes chapters take a long time to finish. I'm very slow to update and it makes me feel bad for the readers who are waiting for more. It's not like that many people are waiting, there isn't too much pressure in that sense. It's a rarepair and the fandom isn't as active as it used to be. But there are some people who are excited to know what happens next, and I feel like I'm letting them down by taking so long. I'd probably let them down even more if I didn't write the rest of it, though.

Another reason I've been wanting to quit is that I've been working on this fic for a few years already and it's going to take a few more years to finish, and that is overwhelming. I'm exhausted from such a long commitment to something creative. I've never spent longer than 6 months on a fic before and didn't think this one was going to take so long.

The final reason is that my writing style has changed in small ways over the course of working on the fic and I feel like older chapters are not as good as the newer chapters and I'm sort of losing confidence in myself. I don't enjoy reading my old fics because all I see are the things I'd change, and I feel like that's starting to happen with this fic.

This is supposed to be fun and I'm not having fun right now.

I don't know what to do.

Do you have any advice?

*hugs* the first thing I want you to do, anon, is take a deep breath. hold it. let it out.

It's going to be okay. ❤️

You've got a lot of different emotions going on right now and a lot of different reasons for feeling them. You need to stop trying to push them away and "get on with things" because that's just like shoving your mess into the closet. Eventually that door isn't going to shut anymore.

You also need to take care of yourself before you worry about your readers. They'll still be there later. New ones might come by in the meantime. If you're putting your readers' presumed wants and needs ahead of your own, you'll eventually start to feel resentful towards them for "forcing" you to do something you don't want to (or just can't) do right now.

First and foremost, I think you need a break. You're exhausted and you're pressuring yourself to do more than you're capable of. The way you describe things, it sounds like you're pretty burnt out and in need of some recovery time. Berating yourself and forcing yourself and pushing yourself so hard is only going to make it all worse.

You know that old Snickers commercial where the person turns into an ogre or something and their friend gives them a chocolate bar? The tag line is something like "You're not you when you're hungry." Well, you're also not you when you're exhausted. Your brain is currently a toddler in need of a nap, and if it doesn't get that nap then it's just going to have a tantrum and ruin your whole day.

Take a moment and think of this story that you're writing. Why do you want to finish it? Is it because the readers are excited for it? Is it because you've put a lot of work into it already? Is it because you've already spent a lot of time on it?

All of those things might be true, but you said the most important part yourself, right up front, "the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it."

It's not about the readers, and it's not about the effort, and it's not about the time. It's about the story. That's the important thing. And if that's the important thing, then you can write it at your own pace. You can enjoy the writing process of it. You can spend your time imagining scenes that might or might not make it into the final version.

Writing fic is a hobby, and like you said it's meant to be fun. Take it off of your list of responsibilities and put it onto your list of daydreams instead. The only person you're accountable to with this story is yourself. The next time you catch yourself thinking, "I have to-" or "I should-" when you're thinking about this story, stop and recognize that thought. Where is it coming from? Why are you having it? Is it actually true or do you just feel like it is?

Then take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. This story is for you first. Take your time with it.

[foreveradreamaway]

streaming

summary- a compilation of moments from maxs streams

i really loved writing this as i always have small idea that aren’t long enough to be their own post, if you have any small idea that goes with this or just in general then please comment it or send it to me and i will make a part two or another post similar <3

max loved to stream every now and then. he loved the interactions with fans and getting to play with his friends. you also loved when max streamed because it gave you some peace and quiet for a while, it also allowed you to do some house work without max following you like a lost puppy.

you had made numerous appearances in his streams and his fans loved it. probably enjoying seeing you both as actual humans and getting to see how you both live your daily lives together. some fans had made a compilation of the many times you made an appearance in one of maxs streams.

🏎️

max sat in his gaming chair immersed in whatever game he was playing. you needed something from the room he was in and it couldn’t wait.

you opened the door as slowly and quietly as possible and creeped over to the thing you needed. apparently you weren’t quiet enough and he heard you. he moved one side of his headset off his ear.

“sorry, i just needed to grab the end thing for the hoover.” you sheepishly smiled. he only grinned in return. you took this as the opportunity to walk up behind him so you were in the frame.

“what are you playing?” you questioned as your face finally came in shot.

“im playing cod with lando, charles and carlos”

“aww cute” you sent a quick wave to say hello to everyone that was on the other end of the camera. however your eyes were quickly caught by the top of maxs head.

“can they hear me?” you questioned, he nodded. “okay. hello everyone, it’s your favourite person in the world here and i just needed to show you something” max had a confused look on his face as he watched you through the camera, wondering what you were about to show.

your hands reached for each side of the head set that was on his head and slowly removed it and handed it to him. your hands then went to either side of his head and tilted it down.

“max gets really bad headset hair guys and it will literally stay like this for the rest of the day” max’s hands quickly went up to his hair to attempt to fix while you and the chat couldn’t help but laugh.

“shut up” he grumbled as he lifted the head set back onto his head. “love you baby!” you called over your shoulder as you left the room.

“i hate her”

“i heard that!”

🏎️

“mijn liefste, wil je zo pasta? Ik ben er nu een paar aan het maken” you can’t be seen as you poke your head round the door.

“Het gaat goed, dank je schat” he replies while not taking his eyes off the game but removing one side of his headset. “welke pasta ben je aan het maken?”

“i know i’m learning but im not that good yet max” you laugh.

“i said ‘what pasta are you making” he replies, suddenly feeling hunger bubble his stomach.

“i’m not sure yet. are you sure you don’t want any? i’ll surprise you” making food has always been one of your love languages, your mum had shown you to cook as soon as she could and you picked it up quick.

“yeah go on then” he finally turns to you and smiles as you walk away. when he finally turns back he sees the chat filled with questions and people telling him how cute you both are.

“yeah she is learning dutch. i’m teaching her” his face lights up as he talks about you. “it’s very easy for her though because she already knows other languages so she picks it up quickly” his smile never leaving his face.

🏎️

max is looking intensely at the chat in-front of him, reading everything is the chat. answering a couple questions. he does this until he sees a familiar name come up.

“‘answer your phone’ what?” he quickly picks up his phone to see that he has ten missed calls from you. he is quick to call you back.

“max stop putting your phone on do not disturb and silent” you scold. he always did when he was streaming, he always said it was because he didn’t want to be disturbed however sometimes it was important. like now.

“sorry schat.”

“do you want anything from the shop? i’ve already got your m&ms and tomato soup.” max had a soft spot for m&ms and everyone knows about this man’s love of tomato soup.

“no i’m okay thank you baby. what are we having for dinner” max had a massive smile on his face. half because he was talking to you and because he knew how much everyone watching would love the conversation.

“well you’ve got mean prep” you couldn’t help but laugh as max groaned loudly and threw his head back. he hated meal prep. don’t get me wrong he loved being healthy and eating nice food but sometimes he just craved your cooking. “and i’m having a stir fry.”

“ugh whatever. i want stir fry”

“i know baby. ill make you one as soon as your nutritionist will allow me too”

“okay fine. when will you be home?” max kept the phone close to his mic to make sure everyone would be able to hear you on the other end of the phone.

“not long, i took the ferrari so it won’t take me long to get home. i don’t have my keys so be ready to pick up your phone and open the door! okay, i love you bye” you ended the phone call quickly before he could say anything about you taking his car.

“i swear she prefers my cars over her own” he laughed as he read through the chat again.

🏎️

when you moved in with max you demanded that a sofa be put into his gaming/office room. he got you the cosiest sofa he could just to make sure you were comfy. max spent a lot of time in the room and you missed him when he was in there.

before you lived together, you tried to sit on the floor when you were round but you just weren’t comfortable enough so that’s when you demanded a sofa. if max was streaming or just had some admin stuff to do, you would just sit on the sofa and enjoy each-others company.

max was streaming, as per usual, while you sat all snuggled up on the sofa across the room. you had one the comfiest jumper of his that you could find, his joggers, a blanket covering your whole body and tucked under your chin and you glasses that sat on your nose.

max had specifically bought a pair of joggers that were too small for him. one day he came home to see you wearing a pair of his that were far to big for you and when he questioned you, you said that you just enjoy wearing his clothes. so the next day he went and bought a pair that were to small and placed them in his waldrobe. from then on they were yours.

you were also a secret iPad kid at heart. your iPad was literally your prized possession and you took it everywhere with you. now was no different as you sat there with your ipad resting on your legs as you watched tik tok.

“look” you turned the ipad around so that it was facing max, he leant on the arm rest of the chair to get a better view of what you were showing him. it was a cat.

“we should get sassy and jimmy one” he laughed as you nodded. he sat back into his chair and caught what the chat were saying. many people asking where you were.

he grabbed the camera from its holder and turned it to face you, showing you under the blanket. he got up out his chair and moved to sit next to you on the sofa.

“you are actually such an old man” you laughed as he struggled to hold the camera so that it would get a view of both of you. “give it to me” you took the camera from his hand and wrapped your other arm around his neck to bring him closer to you.

“hey guys, it’s your favourite person in the world here” the camera now had a perfect view of both of you as you put a quick peace sign up to the camera. you quickly nudged max and his fingers quickly went to the same position as yours. “i want to show you all my outfit, hold this baby” you handed the camera to max and threw the blanket onto him as you stood from your seat.

“max, show them my whole body my love” you laughed as he was only showing the camera your legs. “i’m trying Schat” you leant forward a bit and moved maxs hand so it faced where it should be.

“okay so my glasses are from specsavers, they are the only people i trust with my glasses. even if i need a new pair i would rather fly home than get a pair from anywhere else. because if they messed my glasses up i would just hear my mum in my ear saying ‘should have gone to specsavers’. my jumper is maxs- where is this jumper from?” you questioned him.

“umm its a zara one i think”

“okay so the jumper is from zara and these joggers are from nike. can i even say that? do they even sponsor you?” max’s laugh could be heard from behind the camera before he replies. “yeah it’s okay. i think” his face fell into a sheepish grin behind the camera.

“my socks are from god knows where. and the blanket is from also god knows where.” you gave the camera a big smile as you fell back into your previous position.

“you are the new version of maxplaining”

“shut up”

🏎️

“can we play fifa?” you were sat on the floor, cross legged, next to max while he sat in his gaming chair. “you only want to play fifa because you always beat me” he huffed.

“exactly” you grinned at him.

[juniperdugong]

Mingyu was aware that you had work early in the morning.

Which is why he wanted to "help" you go to sleep.

You honestly didn't know what to expect. Maybe a glass of milk, some tea, a massage, hell maybe he'd even go the extra mile and do all of the above plus some melatonin gummies or something.

But no. Here you were, staring at the wall, sitting up, and lights dimmed. As your boyfriend sat in front of you with a pill bottle, a lighter, and a pop-it your younger sibling had left at the house months ago.

"Mingyu..."

"First of all, not my name. Second, I promise this will relax you." He let out one of his infamous little "he he" laughs as he zoned in.

Fully focused this man leaned closer and closer to you. You almost catch him in a kiss before his head swerves to your right ear. "A..." he whispers. Switches to your left ear, "S...". Alternating now he finishes the word with a breathy "M" and "R".

You groan at his antics but let him continue. And he does, oh trust he does.

For the next 20 minutes, you sit back and close your eyes, attempting to relax, as Gyu alternates between tapping on the pill bottle, whispering in your ear, lighting the lighter (careful to not get too close to the side of your head with this one), and bringing the pop-it to either side of your head and gently popping the bubbles.

Every now and again he would make a water droplet sound with his mouth, his breath so close to you that you would giggle and open your eyes slightly to see a small frown turn into a concentrated stare at whatever object he chose to entertain you with next.

By the end of it, he must've thought you were sleeping. His hands about to reach out to your body to lay you down but instead he meets your gaze as you slowly open your eyes.

"Gyu..."

A pout forms, "I thought I got you to sleep".

"Can you please, pretty please, the light of my life, my beautiful boyfriend, just make me some tea and get the melatonin gummies in the cabinet?"

He huffs and his pout turns into full duck lips as his brows furrow. "You didn't even try to enjoy it."

You scoff, roll your eyes, and put on your baby voice (the one made exclusively for him), "I did try baby, I really really did...for about 5 minutes."

"You let me do that for 15 more minutes?!"

"Listen, you were in the zone, how am I gonna stop you when you're in the zone? Babe."

"How am I gonna stop you when you're in the zone? Babe." He mocks.

"Gyu...please." you give him the most endearing yet sleepy expression and his pout returns, this time out of a minor sadness at your current restless state. Yeah, he could never actually be mad at you.

Being the man he is he's on his feet before you utter another word. Within 10 minutes he's back with what you've asked for. You scrunch your nose as you drink, a sign of thanks to him.

He gives you a radiant smile before wrapping his arms around your waist, giving your cheek a peck, and nuzzling into your neck.

After taking the gummies you turn the lamp off joining Gyu fully in the sheets entangling in the warmth of each other. Although it's dark you both know that you're both smiling. You reach out to cup his face in your hands and he giggles as your fingers locate each feature.

An attempt is made to kiss his lips but you catch his nose instead. Laughs emerge from both of you. This time you get it right though, your lips perfectly capturing his.

With a sigh, you say "Maybe...next time you just try holding me like this, huh? Because I don't know if it's you or these gummies but suddenly I am very very sleepy...".

"I'd be willing to test out that theory."

{A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, literally finished writing this, posted it, and K.O.'d lol. This is inspired by this video of ASMR svt moments lol. Enjoy my loves, get a good night's rests whenever you sleep, and for the love of all that's holy DO NOT attempt to pull an all-nighter}

[ghoulangerlee]

gonna post this real quick before I go make dinner but; after seeing the movie Saturday, I went to bed, woke up and felt the urge to write this little thing.

RITE HERE RITE NOW SPOILERS - please do not read this if you haven't seen the movie and don't want to be spoiled

takes place shortly after the movie ends, a quiet moment with Copia and his ghouls.

---

“Frater,” Aether’s voice cuts through Copia’s haze of thoughts—he's staring down at the ornate desk in front of him, large and grand and all imposing; it had been Sister’s, her paperwork still neatly stacked on top of it—the dust barely settling before the cogs of the church shuffle him into her place.  

Copia blinks a few times, clearing his thoughts and turning to face the doorway; Aether’s there, just beyond the frame of it, and Dew behind him, both in uniform but sans masks, “Ah, you know there’s no need for the title—” he says, and the words sound harsh to him, “I’m just Copia.”  

Aether smiles, something soft and brittle as he comes further into the office, the one he’d been in numerous times before, previously, when Sister had been here still. “And there’s no doubt about that,” he says gently, stopping barely a foot away from Copia, “But, you also deserve the respect of the title.”  

He scoffs, tries to deflect, but Aether grabs his hands and pulls him closer until they’re standing toe to toe, “Don’t sell yourself short, Copia,” Aether says, firmer this time, a frown gathered in the corners of his lips.  

With a heavy sigh, Copia deflates just a little, turning his hands in Aether’s grasp so he can tangle their fingers together instead, “You’re right,” he says, it sounds wooden to his own ears, but his emotions have been all over the place since that night, since watching Sister collapse, since her... 

He doesn’t want to think about it, squeezes at Aether’s hands before finally letting them go and stepping back, putting space between them even though he wants nothing more than to fall into Aether’s arms and allow himself a moment to mourn.  

“I need to...clean things up in here,” Copia says softly, hesitantly, looking around at the packed shelves of books, the knickknacks spread around, small little hints at Sister’s own personality among the stuffiness of the church. “They’ll expect me to move offices, give mine to the new guy...” he trails off, feels a helplessness sort of settle in his stomach. 

He holds absolutely no interest in his current office, there’s nothing special about it beyond it being a room with four walls and a window that looks out over the courtyard. In his later years, he spent most of his time doing paperwork in his own room or in the ghoul den with his ghouls, or occasionally among the pews during services.  

It just feels wrong in a way, to move from one room to another with very little time to mourn the person who used to sit at the desk he’ll be placed at soon. Sure, there had been a service, a funeral, a proper burial, Sister Imperator laid to rest with the higher-ranking members of the clergy—with Nihil and his sons, just as she had wanted.  

It still settles sourly in his stomach.  

“Let us help,” Dew says, stepping up to the desk, running a delicate fingertip along the edge of it, “She was...different, from the others, you know. I dare say she actually respected us at the end,” he then picks up a pile of paperwork, shuffles through it, pausing a long moment before he admits, even quieter, “I miss her too.”  

Copia feels his heart clench tightly, an ache settling deep within him as he recalls the way all of the ghouls had gathered around her at the end, growling and hissing at anyone that had tried to get near her body, even as medical personnel loaded her onto a stretcher, the way Dew had pressed a kiss to his hand in the moments after, once he’d cried over her for several long minutes, murmuring how he and Rain would go with them to see that her body be properly taken care of.  

In that moment, Copia didn’t think much of it, the ghouls were his, they all shared a bond and knew what he needed intrinsically as if the very fiber of their beings were melded with his own—he didn’t think they were mourning her in the same way, just protecting her body because they knew what she’d meant to Copia.  

“Dewdrop,” Copia murmurs, and it’s all he can say as he slides an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a side hug; he bows his head and rests it against Dew’s, eyes closed.  

Dew hums a bit, shifts in his hold until he can wrap both of his arms around Copia’s middle, still holding tightly to a handful of paperwork, typed neatly with Sister’s looping scrawl at the bottom.  

“I’m not sure when the shift happened, when I stopped resenting her for things and when I started caring about her instead,” Dew mumbles into the still somewhat stiff fabric of Copia’s new jacket.  

Copia laughs, somewhat wetly as he holds Dew tighter, pressing his face into his hair, “Probably around the same time I forgave her for leaving me to grow up alone,” he whispers, “She did her best, with what she had, I think. Raising me from afar. She didn’t want to be seen as weak. With her leading the church. I think. After becoming Papa and seeing how things were, that’s when I sort of got it. Understood why she did the things the way she did them.” He admits quietly, “She was a terrible mother, but an amazing leader.”  

Dew hums quietly in agreement, squeezes Copia just as tight, “She knew the church would be safe with you.” he whispers, sniffling softly, rubbing his cheek against Copia’s jacket, “Just like she knew the Papacy would be safe with you. Like she knew we would be safe with you.”  

He swears softly, closes his eyes tightly and tries not to think about the implications, all those years ago, of assigning three almost broken ghouls to his care while simultaneously making him the defacto leader of the Ghost project—she couldn’t have known then that he’d end up where he is now, back then, when she was still speaking to him in a clipped and firm tone.  

He doesn’t quite have it in him to dwell on that now, and he’s sure that later on, he’ll start looking back, overthink all of it until he’s worked himself up—old habits die hard, even with the new title and new responsibilities.  

“This has turned into a reminiscing session instead of a cleaning session,” Copia eventually mumbles, rubbing his own cheek against Dew’s hair before he pulls away, allows a moment to straighten himself out. “I think we should go through the paperwork first, it’ll be the easiest,” he tries to switch over to professional again, even though he still feels raw and painful inside. “We’ll worry about the rest of it later.”  

The silence settles over them for a moment as Copia’s direction sinks in, and Aether moves to collect some paperwork off of the desk, artfully bypassing Sister’s chair and taking a seat in one on the other side of the desk instead.  

A knock, a gentle rap of knuckles against the door frame and Copia looks up— 

The rest of the pack stand there, gathered just outside the door, as if waiting.  

“My ghouls, what is it?” He asks, briefly feeling concerned that something would bring them all to him. “Is something happening?”  

Swiss and Cirrus share a look but Cumulus is the one who steps forward, lets herself into the room, “We came to help,” she says, there’s a quiver in her voice as she speaks, one of pain and loss, “What can we do?”  

Copia’s eyes track from one ghoul to the other—Mountain, Cirrus, Cumulus, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Aurora and Aeon all standing there, waiting for their orders.  

He seems to snap out of it, shaking his head and motioning for them to come in, “Come to the desk, we’re working on sorting this for now,” he says—mountains of paperwork stacked everywhere on the wooden top.  

(Sometimes he wonders if this was the reason she seemed so stressed. He wonders what it means for him.)  

Quiet chatter fills the room as the others file in, standing close to talk while they sort through it all, piling all the things that can be filed away in one of the empty corners of the desk while the rest of it gets thrown into a trashcan to be shredded later.  

As they work, Copia glances up from the frankly concerning amount of tax forms he’d been tasked to sift through, doing a double take when he catches sight of her.  

In the furthest corner of the room, near the ornate fireplace stands Sister Imperator, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches the bustle of the room, the corners of her lips curved upwards in a small smile.  

Copia blinks several times, almost tempted to reach up and rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things—but then Sister, she looks over at him, her smile softening into something fond.  

I love you, she mouths, and then, flickers out of existence.  

[serenanymph]

wip intro - beast

A single feather drifts from within the boy's bloodied cloak to the ground, floating, dancing on the wind. Pitch black, stained red, exactly like the ones Crys had seen earlier on the trail. Silence. The world holds its breath, both of them staring at that feather on the ground, a single second stretching out into eternity. “Oh,” the boy says weakly. “Shit.”

GENRE: YA high fantasy

POV: third person, multiple, present tense

STATUS: book 1 on hold (final draft), book 2 ongoing (first draft)

FEATURES:

found family and large casts

queer characters of various flavors + background romance

sarcastic one + ray of sunshine one

chill lesbian + disaster lesbian

undead creatures!!! cool magic!!! shapeshifting!!!

a Journey

discrimination, eventual rebellion, lots of blowing stuff up

telling each other to practice self-care while not practicing self-care

and a protagonist who doesn't really fit the 'hero' or 'chosen one' role

SYNOPSIS:

There are monsters in the woods.

Beasts have been at war with humans for centuries. The children of Katas himself, they are shapeshifters, magic wielders, and the source of the Witchrisen that has been plaguing Kosei since time immemorial.

For Crys Averwell, a human boy from a backwater village, there has never been any reason to doubt the old legends. However, when he stumbles across a wounded crow-boy in the woods whose wings have been brutally hacked off, everything he knows is thrown into question.

On the flip side, Icarus Kal-Nira is wingless, weaponless, and stranded miles and miles away from home, with no way to get back. If he wants to survive, he's going to have to trust Crys.

Quite unfortunately, that's the easy part - because when the entire world hates Beasts, a single ally won't be enough to grant an edge. And as time goes on and threats increase, it's only going to get harder for Crys to hide Icarus's existence from his village...

POV CHARACTERS

Crys Averwell - 16, human, archer. sharp tongue and even sharper wit. walking personification of "I'm fine", needs sleep and therapy but is getting neither because I keep putting him in Situations

Icarus "Ink" Kal-Nira - 17, Beast (Crow), dual-wielder. ray of sunshine and genuinely the nicest person to ever exist. giant golden retriever energy. Trying His Best

Dahlia Reistveil - 17, human, daughter of a tavern-owner. Crys's childhood friend. often seen as the Mature One, but underneath all that she has a boatload of her own Issues

Beatriz Das-Reille - 16, Beast (Crow), Icarus's sort-of-but-not-really-little-sister. fast flier, wields a rapier, and is made up of only anxiety and more anxiety.

taglist (lmk if you want to be +/-): @sapphos-scientist

feel free to browse through the gen tag in which I reblog everything from inspiration to resources, and occasionally actually post something! I'll probably make a proper long page later on and sort out the tagging system, but until then you just get this.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them

[anotherfanaccount]

Lovely Runner had the perfect run. The whole premise of it being a fantasy romcom was perfectly written, perfectly executed with a beautiful cast.

Sunjae and Sol were fated to be each other's soulmate. Their love blooms from their soul. So deep the bond that fates intervened when evils of society cut their time short. And in all of this the grandma was their fairy godmother.

The writers really need to be applauded because this was the sweetest and in the same time such a simple story. Timeloop dramas get loopy because logic but there's nothing stopping this magic. It was so well done truly.

Every scene you will think you can predict the direction will surprise you. Sometimes it's just belly aching laughter, Sometimes pure angst, Sometimes happiness that is a smile from ear to ear.

Thank you to the actors too. Actors who really bring in a personality beyond the writing and make the works more valuable have my whole heart.

[raineandsky]

For Old Time's Sake

(part 1) (part 2)

“It’ll take a few days to ease the pain,” Skat says with a light smile. “A few weeks to heal entirely.”

Skat’s home—or so the prince assumes—is nothing like he’s used to. Wooden floors, slatted roof, bed of straw. Is this really how the majority live? How the hell do they do this? As much as the thought of home makes him sick, he does miss his luxurious quilts.

“Thank you,” the prince says not entirely genuinely. If the old knight has a time frame on his recovery, his chances of slipping away unnoticed are slim. Unfairly so. “I appreciate you not trying to sell me or anything.”

Skat laughs, the sound flattened by the dull walls. A laugh like that probably echoed in the walls of the castle, back in the day. “I still have to hold Gvette off yet,” he says brightly. He unrolls a slice of bandage, popping a bottle open from the bedside table. “She’ll warm up to you, though, I’ve no doubt.”

Gvette disappeared into the woods yesterday to wash the prince’s bloodstained clothes. Not voluntarily, mind—Skat had had to ask her to help several times before she begrudgingly grabbed them and made a show of dragging them along the floor on the way out.

The prince tries and fails to hold back a wince as Skat goes about carefully changing the bandage. The clean fabric, cooled by whatever the healing stuff is from that bottle, is what he imagines heaven must feel like. The old knight sighs in relief as he tosses the old bandage into the bin.

“Can’t help but ask, if you don’t mind it,” he starts slowly, “why’d you leave?”

The prince rolls the edge of the blanket between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the way it waves back and forth under his control like the ocean. “Why did you?”

There’s a moment of silence where the prince risks glancing up at Skat. He gives the boy a blank stare, blinking absently, before breaking into another laugh.

“Yeah, a’ight, touché.” He shakes his head, adjusting idly on his little bedside stool. “Don’t think you’d like my answer much, though.”

“I doubt you'd like mine either.”

“Well,” the man says with a grin, “how abouts this—I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. I assume we’re somewhat in the same boat to both be out here, huh?”

It makes sense. Whyever the old man is out here can’t be too different from the prince, right? They both ran from the throne. Both escaped into the wilderness. Both– well, whether Skat ended up in a bear trap as well is a mystery.

“I’ll admit, your father made some poor choices,” he continues. He snivels shortly, dropping his gaze to the floor by the bed. “I couldn’t find it within myself to support a king I didn’t share beliefs with. They were big differences too—it wasn’t just a disagreement on the colour of the curtains. I couldn’t work knowing that what I did brought about terrible things.”

The king isn’t known for his kindness. His entire family isn’t. The prince knows this the best of anyone.

“That’s me,” Skat says with a deep sigh, like it’s a relief to be off his chest. “Your turn, kid.”

The prince opens his mouth, but words refuse to come out. It feels like he’s confessing some great sin to a priest—too much to the wrong person. Easy information to put in the wrong hands.

“It’s a’ight lad,” the old knight adds after a moment. His voice is soft, gentle. “I won’t tell a soul.”

That feeling, that lingering it’s dangerous to show dissent still rings at the back of the prince’s mind. But the man won’t tell anyone. Of course he won’t. They’re a world away from the dangers of the palace here.

So the prince sucks in a deep breath, steels his nerves, and recounts his story.

Taglist: @bushfairy

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[plusultraetc]

Saw the tags on the Toshinori post and do you have more to share?? Any insights? If so I’d welcome hearing them 😭 He really is so self-sacrificial and it hurts but it’s truly at the core of who he is

This has been sitting in my inbox for almost a week because I needed to make a futile effort at organizing my thoughts into something coherent--but this is as organized as they're going to get for now! Thank you so so much for the ask though bc I do love to yell about MHA <3

(Obligatory reminder that I'm watching this show in such a confusing order so if what I'm about to rant about has been addressed before and I'm harping on it unnecessarily I Am Sorry.)

(For anyone curious, this is the post btw)

SO. It feels relevant to mention that my sister and I were talking about All Might in the first place because we were talking about MHA Moments That Haunt Us. For me, it's the 'I am not here' sign hanging around the neck of the All Might statue in Kamino Ward after the Paranormal Liberation War. It literally lives in my brain rent-free 24/7 365 days a year, especially with the AM vs AFO fight being relatively fresh in my mind. The reversal of All Might's catchphrase and all it represents hurts, but to display it at the site of his 'last stand' in Kamino? That's brutal.

All Might vs All For One and how that rematch plays out is so so important to the story for so many reasons, but one of them is that the fight itself is a sacrifice. Toshinori gives everything he has, short of his life, to defeat All For One. He gives up his physical strength, his public image as the unbeatable Symbol of Peace, and, effectively his Quirk ("Goodbye, All For One. Goodbye, One For All" haunts my every waking moment, still!)

This battle is also the culmination of years of All Might's life and heroic philosophy (because Toshinori has been both practicing AND preaching self-sacrifice in the name of the greater good since we met him. It's what he thinks a hero does). Kamino is the sacrifice to end all sacrifices, if you will. Yes, he does get to walk away from the fight with AFO, but he walks away irrevocably different, almost unrecognizable. He's forced to totally change his focus and his mindset and his life. Everything he has given up is made literally visible in the deterioration of his body.

But most most importantly, All Might's sacrifice at Kamino was... all for nothing. Even if AM defeated him in that moment, All For One is free less than a year later. The world is in shambles. People are afraid, and their faith in heroes is crumbling. Heroes are afraid, and this time, they have no idealized symbol to rally behind. When Dostoevsky wrote "Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing," he was talking about All Might btw.

Toshinori gave this fight (and his career, and being All Might) everything he had, and it still wasn't enough. He sacrificed so much of himself, and so much of how he perceived himself and his purpose, and he didn't even save the world. He just bought them time--and not much of it. I think that's why he's so desperate to keep fighting, no matter the cost, no matter what condition he's in--even 'quite literally half-dead.' He can't let Kamino be the Symbol of Peace's final stand, because Kamino was ultimately for nothing. Instead of saving the world, it has been reframed through the sign on the statue as All Might abandoning the world. And ever since then, he's been scrambling to prove that he is still here.

(There's also probably something here about Sir Nighteye telling him that he was going to die. Since Nighteye used his Quirk on him, Toshinori has been anticipating sacrificing his life for good. Knowing that his entire hero career is effectively a fight to the death has probably maximized his self-sacrificial tendencies.)

[giantkillerjack]

ur post about queerbaiting and the dismissal of people in fandom to critical analysis is so incredibly true thank you. i feel like marcille's writing in the anime has been super misogynistic a lot of the time and every time i bring this up all anyone wants to say is "well maybe this isn't for you! and you shouldn't watch the show!" like. i don't think this is about taste lmao, i am analyzing the text in front of me and coming to conclusions about the craft of it.

[This is in reference to this post]

YES!!! THANK YOU!!!!!

It is so so frustrating!!!!

It's like being at a restaurant and being served a bunch of delicious appetizers, but then one of the bread appetizers is literally just a plate of crumbs; and then when you're like, "Hey, uhh, why are we being served literal crumbs?", a bunch of the other folks eating at the restaurant are like,

"WELL HOW ABOUT YOU JUST DON'T EAT HERE THEN??!? YOU MUST NOT BE THAT HUNGRY, SO JUST FIND ANOTHER RESTAURANT AND DON'T EAT WITH US!!"

And maybe they say it politely, but "Aw, sorry, maybe this restaurant just isn't for you 💖" is just trading out an aggressive dismissive tone for a patronizing dismissive tone. It's the same message.

And it's like! I was honestly happy to move on from the crumbs once my complaint was acknowledged because the meal overall is still delicious, but then all these folks got SUPER WEIRD AND DEFENSIVE ABOUT IT, so now I find myself double-checking all the other dishes -- and, actually, you know what those eggs DO look a Iittle misogynistic undercooked!!!!

[yuutito]

Hi aleks, sometimes I feel like, no one wants to connect on this social media site? Idk. The like to rb ratio is depressing. I mean, I’m grateful that people are liking my posts. But like. I wanna hear what they think too, ya know?

not sure if you are a writer im guessing from the wording of this ask that you are. but I think it's a bit hard these days to get the level of interaction that you may be asking for

depending on what fandom youre in or what character youre posting about or what trope youre writing etc etc the size of the audience will change. like I already know in my mind if im writing something that is more geared towards stereotypical heteronormative relationships that will get much more interaction than something that is subversive. or if im writing a fic for a popular character that will get much more interactions than a not so popular one.

But at the same time, coming from someone who used to write for a very popular character, I have to say that the grass is not always greener? As in, I think there is a difference between quantity and quality of interactions. If im writing something that I know a core base of people who follow me will like, I know I will most likely get at least some sort of interaction from people who typically enjoy that content. I find that interaction to be more meaningful, especially if it's something I enjoy talking about. vs, if I write something with a bigger 'audience', perhaps there will be more reblogs but the back and forth interaction does not happen. that person will read the fic, reblog or leave a comment, and then be on their way. It does not create this relationship where you end up having a back and forth conversation or becoming mutuals or anything like that (at least, in my experience).

Like if I post a fic that EYE enjoy, and I get ten comments from lovely people, that means more to me than a hundred interactions on a fic I didn't put my whole dick into. ya know?

idk where im going with this. I guess I wanna say if you are passionate about something, and you receive even a few bits of feedback, that will feel so much more rewarding than trying to 'chase' the feedback by writing things you think others will enjoy. and I think too that people will be able to tell when you are writing something that you feel passionate about.

im of the opinion that you can't force people to reblog and interact with your work. ive seen every excuse under the sun for why people wont reblog. but I think if someone feels as passionate about something as you do, they will overcome whatever shyness they feel to come tell you that they appreciate what you are doing

[destinywillowleaf]

how to go from a one-shot/conversation spawned from thinking too much about an unseen father to more than a dozen fic ideas and an overarching narrative about family heritage (and the generational trauma that comes with it), the importance of communication, and how all lives touch other lives to create something anew and alive in one easy step

[teufelme]

You ever just want to talk about Bertl,

[non-cannon]

Me work-shopping my fanfic idea: What if Nina went though the portal at the end of season two, and instead of season three, grief stricken Sibuna gets messages from her in their dreams asking for their help to return to the land of the living? And they're not sure if it's even her or not. Yes, I am a genius for coming up with this totally original idea that's never been done before, at least in this fandom.

The heartbeats of my abandoned and published WIPs: Trapped in a Dream by artsoccer on fanfiction.net. Summary is, and I quote:

"On the way over to England the plane Nina and Eddie are riding on explodes. No one on board survives. Upon finding out, Sibuna has to struggle through the four stages of grief. Amber, Fabian, and Patricia start getting strange dreams detailing Nina and Eddie. Are these just grief spawned dreams, or something more?"

Me with my fingers in my ears: LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

The heartbeats of my abandoned and published WIPs/My Inner Critic: I wonder who that artsoccer is? I mean, your original tumblr url was artsoccer, and it's still the title of your blog... Such a mystery.

Are you sure this isn't just Trapped in a Dream 2.0? But with eight years improvement in writing skill?

Me who can't drown them out anymore: They have different plots! For one thing, this one is just Nina, and not both Nina and Eddie. For another thing this is less exploration of grief, and more taking a lot of inspiration from the "Song of Dreams"

My Inner Critic: Ah, so this is less original, got it.

Me who's getting fed up at this point: Shut up and let me write the damn thing. It's been years since I wrote anything other than a one-shot. Let me have this.

The asshole inside my head: It's been a year since your last proper one-shot, too. And if you're that determined to write this, why aren't you writing the fanfic instead of this text post?

Me who thought writing this out would be funny: shut up

[selenealwayscries]

quick no ones looking post dungeon master tango as a villain character from a p2w mmo no one on this site has ever heard of ever