#overly verbose answer...

[surumarssi]

30a?

Thanks!!

30: A song that reminds you of yourself

This is such a difficult question sdsfj there are lots of songs that express some feelings or phenomena I can relate to but Idk if they remind me of myself...

Also artists tend to, just by the nature of music as a career, live more eventful lives than mine. But also there's always this assumption that music (especially certain genres) is autobiographical instead of metaphorical and if you put some of yourself into your interpretation you're speaking over the artist. I don't think that's universally true but it's the kind of thing I'm neurotic about.

Anyways. The Destruction of The Kola Superdeep Borehole Tower

[jichanxo]

re:titles> and i'm surprised how people name their projects after they are done! for me, it's easier to centre a story around one or several words, and harder to fit a whole-ass completed story into a really short description. how does it work for you then? (and good luck with senseific's title, i know you can do it)

this got long. uh.

that makes sense in a way, having it picked out early is just picking out your point of focus so that whatever you write matches what you’re trying to convey (at least that’s how I’m understanding you?) I suppose the inverse, deciding late, is more like going with the flow and seeing what surfaces as the most important theme/imagery/whatever… though I can definitely understand it being difficult to pick out what’s the most important part when you’ve written a lot. I guess in the end it’s about decisiveness? or at the very least picking something that Does The Job. Not all of them can be winners after all.

in cases where the fic title is the same as phrasing within the text (3:21am, Passing Grade, Memorisation Game), it feels more natural to see what words come naturally through writing as opposed to deciding beforehand. It’s certainly a bit literal but it captures what I think are the defining features of those fics.

“3:21am” is from the setting, which is incidental really, but it sets the scene well enough.

“Passing Grade” refers to the Kitakata sensei au (so school themed) and is also a direct quote from Yagami’s flirting in that fic.

“Memorisation Game” is a reference to the emotional core of that fic – Yagami missing Kuwana, rationalising his attempt to call his number as a game so not to feel so pathetic about it.

For reference, my document titles for these fics are: “yagami late 3am.docx” (referring to the pov and the setting), “kuwagami sensei eating.docx” (referring to the au and the main thing I use to get them to interact for that fic), and “kuwagami card fic.docx” (the initial idea being about yagami keeping kuwana’s business card). It’s a little funny how blunt they are, but it makes it easy to understand at a glance what everything is.

I guess the commonality here is that you can see what my starting idea is from the document titles, but by looking at the title of the posted fics, you can see where my writing ended up in terms of emotions or themes. “card fic” is the idea I started with, the instrument to get the ball rolling, but by the end of the writing, the final, most clear idea within that fic was memorisation game. I had some idea it was going to end in that direction, but I didn’t have those exact words until I wrote them out.

It’s probably a similar process for my other titles, and not just the literal ones, now that I think about it.

“kuwagami deep wound.docx” refers to the imagery I was trying to use in that fic which became → Wound Pried Open, which is… similar, but the “pried open” part I think calls attention to the idea of Kuwana doing it, of it being on purpose, not just the wound itself but the process of agitating it intentionally, which is… more important than just a reference to the wound on its own. I started that fic thinking “man the kuwagami stuff I make is so clean, I should write something more grimy” and ended it with… well… wounds as a vehicle to explore this idea of painful intimacy.

So I suppose what I’m saying is that deciding later leaves room for me to find the core of the story naturally after starting from my initial idea.

[1800duckhotline]

I neeeeeed to stop playing to draw bc now I'm thinking so hard about epilogue salice. with or without romance involved. but I'm brain rotten so you know. methinks many things can occur. many are saying this (it's just me)

[batemanofficial]

i have to write a mock cover letter for a class and the urge to just mad libs luke's speech to jabba in rotj is overwhelming

[brynn-lear]

a/n: I won't be writing a oneshot about this since I already have a yan!capitano fic series I'm committing to, but I might randomly post about this idea more every now and then lol. tagging this AU as #the captain and his duchess

Yandere noble!Capitano who couldn't stop asking Fem Tutor!Darling to spar with him. With the weight of his inheritance, █████ must strive to be as great— if not greater— of a Captain like his father, the Duke.

But before he gained his infamous strength, you were his beloved mentor. You were a prodigy in swordsmanship with high confidence to boot. Hence, you gleefully accepted the Duke's request to tutor his eldest son. Coming from a minor noble household with only a title to uphold and not much else to boast, it's only natural to grasp unto that opportunity. It just so happened you've been clearing off competitions, and the duke has a good eye. Your parents, bless their souls, wouldn't dissuade you from your decision. Pride meant nothing when there's not even food scraps on the table. With a heart that still bleeds for the misfortune of those around you, you set off on horseback alone.

Whoever it was you were expecting to teach, it certainly wasn't a terrified noble hiding behind a helmet. Young █████ was not to blame. He carries the same dignified moral compass as his house, but he was ill-prepared to talk to people other than his family and servants. In fact, you couldn't get a word out of him as soon as you're done assessing his skill level with a first match.

Much to be desired, but the foundation is there.

... Perhaps you were too harsh with your phrasing.

"Young master," you shook your head, knocking on his door. "I couldn't teach you if you scamper about- hiding like meek prey in the closest room you'd burrow yourself in."

█████ didn't made a sound. You sighed. Truthfully, you wondered if you had done something to offend. It couldn't possibly be due to fear of authority. You're 21 and he's 19, not to mention that he is to be future sovereign Duke of Snezhnaya while you're not even reserved a seat in the council.

"F-Forgive him, Lady (Y/n)!" Elena squeaked. "He's not usually like this. I believe this is because..."

You raised an eyebrow. "Because...?"

The maid hurriedly shook her head, heat crawling up her neck. "N-No, I mustn't say. As a servant, I would step out of line."

"I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, you know?" You grinned. Skillfully, you placed a hand on the wall, leaning closer as if cornering her. You tucked the few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. "I'm not from this House, I wouldn't scold you for a little bit of sin."

She looked extremely offended. Suppose you should've expected that much from the most honorable Harbinger House's staff.

"I'm inclined to believe that this young maid's hypothesis requires no detective to solve."

You both looked to the direction of the voice. It was Prince Zandik, cousin to █████ and heir to the throne. Though to both of you, you are his most favorite gladiator and he is your best sponsor.

"Greetings, Zandik. You appear just about anywhere, huh? Are you sure you're not pulling my leg about the secret twin rumors?"

"Not one for tact, as always. But that's just how I like you, Lady (Y/n)."

Elena looked at you incredulously, wondering just where on earth did you find the audacity to refer to the Prince without proper decorum. Zandik doesn't seem sensitive to your lack of sensibility. You and Zandik have been friends since childhood was never a secret, but those who would recently find this resurfacing fact never fail to act surprised.

"I'd ask you why you're here, but the answer would be dull and overly verbose." You feigned a yawn, which made Zandik chuckle. "So, instead, why don't you tell me what you know about this █████ situation? Does he fear women?"

Zandik schooled his expression, but you can almost just about hear him say that's your best guess?

"█████ has never been one for sublime subtlety." Zandik rolled his eyes. "He admires you greatly, couldn't you tell?"

"Me? And greatly?" You scoffed. "Please, he'd outpace me with just a few lessons.

Zandik laughed. You both knew that to be true, but the future isn't quite as close to that prediction.

"Since the day I discreetly snatched him from his quarters to observe one of your sparring sessions, he has maintained a keen interest in tracking your career." The Prince remarked. "Do you recall the first bouquet of roses you've received?"

"I wasn't meant to be the recipient, do not reopen old wounds." You cringed. It was an unfortunate mistake from the messenger.

"Forgive me, I meant the second bouquet you received." He crossed his arms. "One from a secret admirer who curtly explained how he couldn't bear to see the sadness from your face and made it his honorable responsibility to buy you a larger bouquet."

You blinked.

"N-No way. I'm pretty sure that's from, um, my father."

"Buy you the most expensive bouquet in Snezhnaya? With what money?"

... A cruel but fair point.

"He even dons the same headwear as you do— the helmet he would rarely take off, did you not find it identical to your own?"

You paused.

... Wait a second.

"Well, I shall remove myself from this conversation. I have dull and overly verbose matters to attend to."

"Zandik, halt!"

[atrueneutral]

Secretly pining Raphael reacting to Tav saving his life, but when he asks why she did so or what she wants in exchange for saving him, Tav very clearly almost admits that she did it because she cares about him, but she catches herself and, even though it's very obvious that the both of them know exactly what Tav was just about to say, the adventurer "corrects" herself ("I did it because I- Because you're my ally."). Tav then quickly tries to excuse herself; poor thing feels awkward and embarrassed because the cambion has not made his feelings for his little mouse clear at all.

(This became a Part II to the Iron Flask ask)

Three days later, Tav was called to the Devil’s Den to receive her reward for saving Raphael from the unknown depths of the iron flask. Neither of them sat; it was an offensive move on his part - so as to not invite her to get comfortable, and a defensive move on her part - it was in her best interest to leave once her ‘wish’ was granted.

It was thus that they stood appraising one another from a safe distance.

“I’ve come for my reward,” Tav prompted. She then decided to get a bit cheeky. “My reward for saving you, lest you forgot.”

Raphael’s face darkened alongside a grimace.

“And you’ll have it, Little Mouse, as soon as you answer a question.”

Her gaze turned suspicious.

“Alright…” she said, full of caution.

“Why did you come for the flask?”

Tav found humor in the way he avoided calling it what it was - a rescue effort. Then again, she found humor in a lot of what Raphael said and did; his overly verbose nature at times, his theatricality, the way his face shriveled with displeasure more often than not when it came to her retorts, the way he seemed to make a special effort to butter her up when he wanted her for a task–

“Because I care about y–” Tav froze for a fraction of a second, but it was a fraction of a second that was not lost on Raphael. “Your rewards. And because you’ve become an ally. Who gives me rewards. I like rewards. Your rewards - not you.”

“Not me,” Raphael repeated flatly.

“Nope.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, looking suddenly too smug for comfort. “Yet you like that my rewards come from me?”

Her face was burning.

“I meant that I like rewards only, Raphael, and I’m long overdue for my latest one, so please…”

“And what is to be your reward, Little Mouse? Hm?” Raphael asked with a tilt of his head. His voice was low, too low - dangerously low. “There is little I would deny you, as long as it’s in my power.”

The kind of low that caused arousal to flare in her lower abdomen.

He was teasing her, and his teasing was making her mouth go dry.

“Gods! Would you believe me if I said I had a conflicting appointment that I just now remembered?” Tav realized how terribly unconvincing she sounded as she stepped backwards towards the exit. “We’ll have to do this tomorrow. Or next week. But not now, so I bid thee farewell. Goodbye.”

She turned, fled out the door, and left Raphael in the Devil’s Den with a pleased smile on his face.

[itsclydebitches]

A new stupid Ted Lasso drabble? Oh worm? 👀

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

It was too early for this shit.

Roy turned to find Ted staring intently at his computer screen, with Twitter—no fucking wonder he was losing his mind at 7:00am— encroaching on the Richmond desktop. Across from him Beard licked his thumb and deftly flipped a page of The Secret Garden. Had they planned this?

“Yes,” Beard said, not bothering to look up. Ted let out an explosive breath and smiled, like Beard’s promise of worm devotion meant fuck all when they had actual shit to do. Keeley was still waiting on a statement. Rebecca had a small library for them to sign. Higgins— Roy shuddered—wanted to talk finances in half an hour.

Which meant that instead of prepping for any of that in any way, Ted’s gaze crept towards him.

“Fuck no,” Roy barked.

Ted pouted. No, no, if Phoebe couldn’t sway him with doe-eyes at the tender age of six then Ted Bloody Lasso wasn’t going to do it around a fucking mustache. Roy set his teeth against the sliver of an apology trying to force its way out. “You’re a worm,” he said, as if that explained it all. Because dammit, it did.

“What kind of worm?”

Head jerking, Roy schooled his look of betrayal at Trent taking this seriously. He had his glasses off and everything, tap-tap-taping against his mouth as he stared contemplatively up at the ceiling.

“Uhhh...” Ted consulted the digital hellfire, but apparently no answers were offered up. Figures. “I don’t know. Just a worm? Are there a lot of ‘em?”

“Oh yes. Well over twenty-thousand last I checked.”

Roy twitted involuntarily. Twenty-fucking-thousand? And how the hell did Trent know that? Was he the goddamn worm whisperer? Made sense, given what a spineless pest he was.

Not anymore a voice whispered, sounding suspiciously like Ted. Yeah. Fine. He’d changed or what-fucking-ever. Roy growled and resigned himself to a worm lecture as penance.

“Worms are as varied as any species,” Trent was saying, curdling Roy’s stomach with every word. He took his pen out, mindlessly twirling it as he gathered his thoughts. “Silkworms, tapeworms, the humble earthworm. They seem quite simple on the surface and yet they’re a vital part of our ecosystem. Forget the bees; remove the worm and you risk a near total collapse of our agriculture. Ah, and did you know that the leech is a worm? Certainly they’ve been invaluable to the medical community as a natural anticoagulant. Science will always advance, but sometimes all you need is a good old-fashioned blood sucker—”

“Stop,” Roy groaned, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Trent glanced over, one eyebrow raised.

“The point—sorry, my editor is always on my case for ‘overly verbose prose.’ As if she’s one to talk with those emails—the point is that if you were a worm, Ted, you would remain just as valuable a member of society as you are now. Of course we'd still love you. And why shouldn't you remain a part of our lives? I would determine your species and then set about finding a suitable environment for you. One that, hopefully, we would all be able to visit with frequency. However, if you’re a tube-worm I’m afraid you’re, well, shit out of luck, if I’m allowed to be crass. None of us are going anywhere near a hydrothermal vent and that’s even if I knew how to swim. Most land-living species would be doable though.” Trent bit his lower lip, considering. “If you were a worm I’d research everything I could about your nutrition, enrichment, life cycle. Given the magical nature of these events—I assume in this hypothetical you weren’t always a worm, yes?—I would take steps to ensure you were well looked after, should your life extend past mine. Luckily, Amelia already had a fondness for all things creepy and crawly, so I’m sure she’d be thrilled to receive you in the will. In the same vein, I’d use whatever contacts I still possess to connect with the leading researchers in Nematology and Helminthology, see if we couldn't find some way to communicate with you. I have no qualms about you being a worm, Ted, but I would miss our chats.” Trent smiled, a little wistfully, and then shook himself like a man coming out of a dream. “Why do you ask?”

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Roy said, thunking his head down on the keyboard. Whatever these two nerds had going on he needed to bottle it and sell the shit. He'd make a fortune.

Ted let out a strangled noise. “No reason,” he said, clearing his throat. “That’s a mighty kind offer of yours, Trent, and I do appreciate it. Yes, ma'am, I do. I suppose you could say I—”

“Don’t,” Roy growled.

“—wormed my way into your heart?”

And he was done. Nearly tripping himself in his haste to leave the office, Roy unfortunately still saw the high-five Beard gave Ted—complete with a “Booya!”—and the heart eyes Trent was sending his way, fierce as fucking laser beams. Honestly, they were disgusting, the lot of them.

Still, that question was going to haunt him now...

“Wonder if Keeley and Jamie would love me if I was a worm,” Roy muttered, ignoring the look Higgins cast him and the question of where he was off to with their meeting on the horizon. Fuck finances. Worms didn't care about finances.

Roy took a right towards the exit, towards KJPR, and hopefully an answer half as romantic as the dork's.

[cain-e-brookman]

Belong, Seek, and Avoid Tag

Rules: A person's identity can also be shaped by their social connections. Identify three things about your character: What groups do they belong to, and what groups do they believe they do not? What kind of people do they tend to seek, and what kind of people would they rather avoid?

Thank you for the tag @spideronthesun!

Gonna mix things up and do this one for Crucius

Belong

Crucius had a very solitary childhood. Due to family secrets and a few disabilities, he spent most of his time in his studies, yet still doesn't see himself being or belonging to the scholars. He shuns most academic groups and organizations with a distaste for both unearned superiority and what he sees as meaningless echo chambers. For the most part, he sees himself as separate from most, but not in a belief he is unique, but as a difficulty in finding like-spirited people who can tolerate his detached and cold facade.

Seek

He purposely surrounds himself with talkers. He seeks out people with lots of opinions and the voice to tell you about them. Of the few friends he can claim and the family he has, the only common trait is being loud, verbose, or otherwise vocally meandering. He especially like to find people who's areas of interest are far removed from his, as his love of learning can attach itself to anything if heard of with enough passion.

Avoid

He hates people who are boastful or overly-proud and people who are insensitive or cruel needlessly. Contrary-wise, he avoids overly idealistic people as he finds them to be just as delusional as the opposite side. Outside of his father's partner and Uthyr, he stays away from most who claim strong religious ideals.

realizing how little i can answer these things without major spoilers lmao. crucius is certainly an enigma

i tag @xenascribbles @illarian-rambling @emrowene! do if you'd like!

[conkreetmonkey]

I have a weird, muddy opinion on how people on this site call The United States of America "USAmerica." Yeah, it works, and it removes any confusion about whether you're talking about the country or the landmass, but at the same time, it feels clunky? USAmerica just feels... idk, it's like you couldn't say it out loud without sounding goofy? You can say "the USA" out loud and it sounds good and makes sense, but at the same time the "the" makes it a bit awkward gramatically, and you can't just say "I'm from USA," but you can say, in text form, "I'm from USAmerica."

THEN there's the fact that people from that country are typically referred to as "Americans," and things from there as "American." When someone says "America," you don't think about the two connected continents the term could technically be referring to, you just think about the United States of America. It's an unusually "built" country within the region, made up of 51 smaller, unified nation-states that have combined into one very large, culturally and geographically disjointed country under one sprawling government, where every state, now functionally more of a province, retains the ability to have differing laws and economic policies, yet must answer to the grand government that controls them all as a whole, like if every country in Europe was ruled by one overseeing organization but were free to remain distinct as mini-nations rather than homogenized provinces. Two USAmerican states are far more different in legislation and culture than, say, two Canadian provinces are.

Given this, it makes sense for the country to simply be named "The United States of America." It's a bunch of states from America that are united into one big Voltron of a nation. Of course, though, you can't just say something like "this book is a great work of United States of America-ian literature," due to the way the English language works. Within the framework of English grammar, ideally, a country needs an adjective form of its name to concisely describe people and things from there, and while there are no hard rules as to how to go about that to my knowledge, there are a few different ways. You can apply a prefix to the country's name such as "ish" (British, Scottish, Turkish), "ian" (Brazillian, Russian, Indian), "ese" (Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese), "i" (Pakistani, Somali, Yemeni), or "an" (Guatemalan, German, Mexican), or if it sounds good you can just get funky with it and change a vowel or two (Norse, French, Dutch, Malagasy). And then there's Iceland with the "ic" (because they're special).

So BASICALLY, from THAT standpoint, using "American" as the USA's adjective makes sense. It flows well, does what it needs to. The problem, of course, is the overlap with the name of the landmasses. Technically, when one says "South American," they could be referring to either the continent of South America, or the south of the USA. Same with "North American." Now, nobody actually uses either of those terms to describe regions of the country, probably due to this overlap. A USAmerican could simply say "I'm from the north" or "I'm from a southern state," and you would understand given the context of them being a USAmerican. But then again, they couldn't just simply drop the country and compass-ional (whatever tf the term is) region in the same clause like people from any other country could without it sounding weird. "I'm from South France" makes sense as a sentence, as does "This plant grows in Northern Australia." "I was born in the South of the United States of America" is clunky and overly verbose, yet the lack of a proper country name without a "the" throws a wrench into that.

So what do we (typically) do? Just say "American" and let context do the work, clarifying if neccesary. "I'm from Southern America" obviously is not intended to apply to the continents, although it technically could. The reader, simply due to the context of knowing that South America is a continent and "America" usually refers to the USA unless otherwise stated, understands that the writer almost certainly means they're from a place like Texas or Louisiana, rather than Argentina or Chile. This way of writing/speaking is imprecise and requires unspoken context, but it gets the job done. America the country is a weird case in terms of its makeup, and that's reflected in its name. You're not referring to one country, you're referring to 51 micro-nations held together with one big fat federal government spread over them, like the thick plastic wrap holding a pallet of crates, boxes and sacks together as one shippable unit. And besides, nobody ever says "America" to refer to both continents, even though they technically could. They say "The Americas," because while technically one region, NA and SA are both very distinct and barely physically connected at all, held together by a single small landbridge (that has a canal though it now anyways, so you can't walk from one continent to the other without crossing water anymore).

So, in conclusion, idk, the term "USAmerica" removes the needless complexity of situational context, but it's somehow clunkier-feeling than the preexisting norm of just saying "America." I use and will continue to use the term USAmerica for brevity's sake since it's the norm on this site, but I'd certainly never use it anywhere else. America is an unusual country, and its name reflects that. A square peg in a language made of round holes, that can still fit if you turn it sideways a little. idk. I suppose the only real lesson here is that a) American exceptionalism is unintentionally portrayed in the language the country speaks, and b) English has a weird grammar system where things that are objectively correct within it sometimes don't "feel right" for no reason other than lacking succinctness.

[lonelyroommp3]

share with us ummm. What You'd Like To See More Of and/or What You'd Like To See Less Of from ms. taylor swift

my More Of and Less Of are kind of two sides of the same coin so this is going to be a combined answer, but basically i feel like over the past couple of eras (particularly in ttpd, but you can see the seeds of it in midnights and even in certain vault tracks from the rerecordings naming no names atw10) she's leaned into the perception some fans have of her music as Very Clever Lore Dumps Filled With Easter Eggs And Elaborate Symbolism And Vocab Words and her songs have become an increasingly flanderised version of this perception at the expense of what she is actually best at - i.e. songs that have a clever balance of confessional specificity and general public relatability while also being fucking bangers

it's particularly depressing because i'd really, truly say say up to and including folklore/evermore (with the exception of the lakes, which i honestly do not like one bit & think was the beginning of the end for this sort of thing, lol) she was one of the most consistently fantastic lyricists in the main pop girlie game, that was really her entire USP, and now it's honestly really rare that i listen to a newer song of hers that doesn't have at least one clunker of a line that makes me actually wince. and all of the ones that have that effect for me are the ones where she gets overly verbose for the sake of it (i find "how did it end" unlistenable for this very reason which is a shame because i think the concept behind the song is fantastic and i WISH i could love it) or the ones where she wraps herself up in trying to drop so much personal lore that it stops making sense to anyone who isn't listening to her music with the mindset of a genius.com annotator (e.g. the "spider boy, king of thieves" verse in karma which i lowkey have to brace myself to get through hahaha). it's astonishing and saddening to look back on songs from earlier in her career where she drops extremely specific personal details but in a way that is snappy and effective and cohesive and, most importantly, makes sense to a casual listener who knows nothing about taylor swift's life story - for example, the bridge of "out of the woods", or the "tilted stage" line in lwymmd which is clearly about kanye's tour staging if you're in the know but makes sense as a metaphor for unfair treatment if you have no idea of the context of the song. like where's THAT tswift lyricism now!!!!

(this clear decline in lyrical quality is, by the way, THE reason why i believe atw10, or at least the version of it that made it to red tv, is a post-2020 invention. the difference in lyrical style between the og sections and the new verses is so stark it'd almost be comical if it wasn't such a miserable downgrade of an already perfect song lol)

so basically my extremely simplified TL;DR in a format that actually matches your question: More Of good lyrics, Less Of bad ones 😁

[resolutepath]

🌿 author portrait .

get to know the author behind the blog! repost, do not reblog.

basics .

name/nickname: Charlie age: 31 pronouns : they / them years of writing : I've always written really. I wrote a book when I was 11 and handed it to my teacher on a floppy disk. Before that I wrote short skits for camp competitions. At secondary I wrote poetry and fell onto the MSN rp pipeline, then tumblr was a quick progression after that and here I am still.

reflection .

why did you pick up writing? it was a natural progression. I was an avid reader at school, developed an interest in creative writing as I've always been more inclined to the wordcraft than any other kind of creative hobby, though cosplay did change that slightly. But it was the fascination with being able to craft my own story and tell my own adventures. And then that's what led to me becoming a DM djdskfjhd

do you have any writing routines? if I'm writing a lot of things I'll put on an upbeat playlist and my headphones so that I can focus my attention on writing. If I'm flicking back to a character I haven't written in a while I'll play a cutscene or clip of them to hear their voice and get myself back into that frame, and generally I like to make lists of things I need to write and cross them off where I can.

what's your favorite part about writing? the ability to explore characters in creative ways. I enjoy going beyond the story we are given to see what I think happens off the page, how they continue to interact even if the curtain falls, who they relate to, where their interest falls and how their lives might be different if they met different people.

three things you like about your writing .

one, Dialogue. I think that I'm pretty good at capturing the tone of voice, the manner of speech that a character uses and how verbose they can be. Whether that's someone like Kirishima who is very energentic and bold or someone more like Ningguang who has a level of understatement, or even someone like Jack Rackham who I sometimes just end up telling myself to shut up over because his voice just keeps going.

two, I'm ripping this one straight from Lauri, but my ability to portray a vast array of characters. I've tried solo blogs in the past and I get bored thinking about one personality and feel limited. I enjoy picking up threads of different chracters lives and pulling apart their characteristics to find what makes them tick. To understand them. And I think I'm pretty good at showing the differences between the characters found here from the really central canon characters to the minor NPCs.

three, I like that my writing is accessible if that makes sense. It's not overly descriptive so that the meaning risks getting lost but it also isn't substanceless (or at least I like to think so). I applaud anyone who can write like it came out of an old literature novel, it's stunning, and I love reading it myself. Personally I just like the understated approach, and I enjoy that most people can engage with it without too much difficulty.

a question for the next person .

write a question for the next person to answer. once you've answered it, leave a new question for someone else to answer.

what do you find the most difficult to write (eg dialogue)? I find the most difficult thing to write is keeping my mind on the surroundings and setting more of the scene. I tend to keep my focus very central and inward, on the character, their thoughts and feelings, their actions and not so much painting more of a picture beyond that.

new question: where is the oddest place that you have written something?

tagging: @duelmarks , @wingspiked , @forbelobog , @fortifice & @immobiliter tagged by: @daybreakrising

[mintawasalreadytaken]

20 questions for fic writers

thx to lettersbyelise (x) schmem14 (x) tackytigerfic (x) citrusses (x) vukovich (x)for tagging me. hello, my loves. i loved taking the time to sit and read your thorough answers.

i'm short on spoons, so here's what i've got:

How many works do you have on ao3?

26

what’s your total ao3 word count?

774k

What fandoms do you write for?

HP

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Tit for Tat (388,817 words)

Take A Chance On Me (41,206 words)

Truly Being Alive (207,231 words)

Yellow Is The Colour (Of My True Love's Hair) (64,253 words)

Yes, But It'll Cost You (5,766 words)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

always. i wish i didn't feel the urge but it's an inbox zero thing.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Yellow Is The Colour

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Tit for Tat (the happy ending is Truly Being Alive, i guess)

Do you get hate on fics?

yes, but more like mosquito bites than wasp stings.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yep. yes. with a fervour.

kinky. fetishy. the stuff i like.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

no

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, when i was a young ff.net writer. i'm pretty sure at least one of my AO3's has been: people reached out to do it but i haven't been tagged in a completed one.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

have two WIPs on the backburner. one day! one day.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

they're still HP/DM to me

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

the smut epilogue to Truly Being Alive.

What are your writing strengths?

smut / angst.

What are your writing weaknesses?

overly verbose.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

not needed. summarize instead.

First fandom you wrote for?

HP

Favorite fic you’ve written?

can't pick!

@corvuscrowned @nv-md @kittycargo @peachpety if you haven't been tagged, consider this your invitation xx

[merakimoonglade]

Hello 🌝 Hope it's not a bother, but I do want to know, so I'll pass you this 😅

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers ❤️

Thank you for sending it to me! I'm looking forward to yours and everyone else's answers since I'm new here though I've been on A03 for just over a year. My overly verbose response:

My kids. I have 2. They're great 97% of the time.

Stories. Books, movies, tv, audiobook, play, any format. I've always been drawn to them and been an avid consumer. I usually read a few books at a time; right now it's 4 books plus an audiobook and random fics. Visual medium: I'm super behind everything (I still haven't caught season 2 of Shadow and Bone 😬), but I'm looking forward to Fallout and season 2 of Arcane. The last thing I saw in the theater was Dune, part 2 (I love Villeneuve), and I want to see Monkey Man.

Writing. Splitting hairs and making this it's own thing because it genuinely makes me happy and I feel a need to write. I wrote as a kid then stopped for a long time. and ACOTAR is what got me back into it. I created all these stories for Elain and Azriel and wanted to write them, and now I also have an original work I'm very slowly moving forward on.

Water. 🌊 Bath, pool, ocean, puddle, tide pool. I find it calming.

Massages. The deeper and harder the better. Turn my muscles into jelly and I will be happy the rest of the day.

[gale-gaze]

4, 28, and 61 for the Tav ask game? I'm especially interested in her reaction to Auntie Ethel considering her background with hags

[ weeps into the void - thank you for these ones, I loved fleshing these thoughts out; overly verbose answers below the cut 💜 ]

4. Is there a reason why your Tav starts out at level 1?

Straight up fear, my dude; Mavis is so scared that [REDACTED] is potentially in danger after seeing them in her scrying mirror with a mindflayer, and then the additional stress of the Nautiloid experience with seeing that made her live with one of her worst fears - becoming useless and forgetting everything she worked to avoid.

She is nervous and skittish on the Nautiloid - she's trying not to have a panic attack until she runs into Lae'zel, whose straightforward attitude in the face of danger eases her fears some; but like an artist putting too much pressure on themselves experiencing skill regression, she has to ease back into everything and spends a lot of time rereading old journals to calm her mind and reassure herself that she is still competent and just needs to keep going.

28. What does your Tav think of Auntie Ethel? What do they tell Mayrina?

Immediate gut feeling that something is off, but tries to keep it to herself in hopes that she is overthinking things due to stress and plays nice initially to be cautious given what she has experienced - especially after speaking with Pandirna and removing the curse on her.

Attempting to save face with Ethel when meeting Mayrina's brothers, Mavis takes her side in the argument and knocks the brothers out - she knows the distraught drive to save a loved one too well. But when the illusion finally falls and she meets Ethel again, Mavis is... defensive, to say the least, and overly protective of Mayrina despite her pleas. But she also knows that she can't outsmart Ethel and is extremely hesitant to go after her when she takes Mayrina, only proceeding after she thinks about her brothers trying to do it themselves once they recover.

Mavis wants to kill Ethel, almost desperately; she wants to take out all of her frustration and grief on her, but knows that it's never that easy to get rid of someone like her, and she doesn't want the fear of a vengeful hag looming over her - not right now.

She begrudgingly spares the hag for the sake of Mayrina, and firmly tells Mayrina to be careful before giving her the wand for Connor; when encountered again in the city, Mavis knocks Ethel out and cuts Vanra from her stomach to save her - despite the Hag's Bane remaining in her bag, unused - before finally finishing Ethel for good.

She is tired, cranky, and wants a nap real bad, but also feels a weight lifted off her - she sleeps like the dead that night.

61. How does your Tav feel about Baldur's Gate? Is it their home? Is it their first time in the city?

Mavis did not grow up in Baldur's Gate, but had heard plenty from listening to her mother talk about it in stories and song while living in Silverymoon in her youth. Mavis had been making her way towards Baldur's Gate (albeit not very efficiently, since she continuously went off course to follow any wild leads and rumors of forgotten or weird magic incidents or to find a new book) because she believed that surely, eventually, [REDACTED] would end up Halfway to Everywhere, just like they said in their childhood.

Mavis does bump into [REDACTED] at the Circus of the Last Days shortly after they had just completed the Test of Love with Zethino, both them and their companion adorned with face paint; Mavis and [REDACTED] are both too invested in their conversations with their companions to see each other before they colide together, causing Mavis to lose her footing and tumble down - when [REDACTED] offers a hand down to help her up, they apologize saying "I hope I didn't break anything of yours" and Mavis is quick to shake it off and take their hand without thought.

[REDACTED] makes a comment about really liking her keyhole ring and jokes that "it better not be cursed - I hate curses" as they pull her up - when Mavis hears that and finally sees that it's [REDACTED] as she meets their eye, she nervously mumbles that "sometimes curses aren't so bad" and apologizes for not paying attention before letting them carry on their way. Gale makes a comment that they sure seem colorful and fun, but he would never be caught dead in face paint like that; Mavis laughs, looks back to them and says "yeah, they seem happy" before taking Gale's hand and continuing with "and that sounds like a challenge to me" as they walk on to do their own Test of Love.

Once she makes it into the city, she is... Homesick, perhaps is the best way to put it. She enjoys parts of the city, and parts of the people, but seeing it in the state it was in with what she had learned on her journey overall tarnished it a bit; Mavis does appreciate their resilience nevertheless, and later seeing [REDACTED] and their companion laughing over drinks at a tavern after the city is safe again makes her appreciate the city in a different way - it's not perfect and it's not what she imagined as a kid, but it certainly does bring people together in remarkable and unexpected ways and truly is Halfway to Everywhere.

Mavis does not talk to [REDACTED] in the tavern, but does finally tell Gale who they are as she shares some Silverymoon Blue that she had been keeping safe for a special occasion with him while they celebrate; Gale laughs and says that Mavis may have a type, and she feigns taking offense as she tells him that "all the best breakthroughs start with a rough blueprint" before kissing him and leaving the tavern together, leaving her scrying mirror necklace on the table at the tavern.

BONUS: enjoy a lil personal favorite track to enjoy with question 61's answer 💜

[ofspaceandearth]

sorry, i have a very hard time understanding what flanderized means? does it mean you don't like the character?

A very fair question!

To answer your second question first, I will say I do like Zamasu. While not my favorite character ever, I do find him very interesting and there was unexplored potential. But that's not what I'm gonna do here.

"Flanderized" is trope talk for character butchery, often times by taking one or two traits from a character that has many and overinflating it to the point it really takes up their entire character. Think of how Broly went from being coherent, sadistic and being able to form full sentences in the first Broly movie to being a near mindless brute who is unable to say anything but Kakarot in the second movie.

I'm mainly doing this bc it's funny to make things overly verbose coming from a character who has admitted he likes the sound of his own voice, and because whenever I let his intro rock in FighterZ, he says things so much slower than anyone else that his 2-3 sentences feel like they take an eternity in comparison. Really, just having a bit of fun, hence the "crack" label to him on my blog.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

We return once more to the Meddling Mar au, in which Jak’s childhood self and the Explorer uncle messed with the time map and got back to Haven after only 5 years had passed. Now we move from the end of Jak 2 to the beginning of Jak 3

Jak didn’t struggle when they came to arrest him.

He didn't fight back when he was handcuffed and dragged into an air train, even though he could have slaughtered every one of them in a second.

He didn't even protest. He was in shock.

Everything he'd been through, everything this city had subjected him to, and now they were throwing him away.

He'd been taken from whatever poor fools brought him into this world, kept under Samos’s thumb as their weapon in training. Handed over to Errol to be tortured into their perfect monster. Sent into battle before he was even physically mature. And now that Kor was dead and the Precursor Stone was beyond their reach, Jak had outlived his usefulness. Even Samos seemed to think so, keeping silent during the sham trial.

Of course, Jak had also wondered if that was retribution for his defiance of the old man.

How long he stood in the hold, glazed over and shell-shocked, he couldn't guess. What finally broke him free of his trance was a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Discreetly, Jak shifted his stance to give him a better look. That couldn't have been who he thought he'd seen!

In the very back of the hold, near the hatch to the cockpit, two crates full of emergency supplies were kept locked to the floor. Most air trains had them -- one in case of a water landing, one in case of crashes. A small, round face peeped out from behind the crates, locked eyes with Jak, and ducked down again.

It took every ounce of Jak’s self-control to keep from stiffening.

Mar?!

[[MORE]]

What could have possessed him to stow away?!

Wherever they were going, Jak hoped there would be a place for Mar to escape-

The ramp lowered, and Jak's heart sank.

The sun was rising over a dusty expanse of nothing. This was dry desert, with barely a hint of life outside the perversely vibrant cactus dotting the horizon. Already heat shimmered between uneven towers of rock, like a portal between sweeping dunes and hard scrublands. Jak stared into this gateway to hell and understood then why they'd pulled him from his hammock in the middle of the night. This wasn't actually a banishment. This was an execution.

Ashelin shot him a worried look as he was dragged from the ship into the rising heat, but she said nothing. Jak locked eyes with her, ignoring Count Veger's smug reading of his "sentence".

Please- he tried his hardest to convey without a sound, Don't let him do this.

"This is a death sentence and you know it," Ashelin spat, "At least have the guts to admit to that."

"Your protests were overruled!" Veger looked far too smug. "This dark eco filled...thing is far too dangerous to run free."

He flapped a hand at the guards holding Jak.

"Drop the cargo!"

"Overruled by who?!" Daxter demanded, interrupting what promised to be an overly verbose protest from Pecker. "We want a recount!"

The count turned with a sneer. "Oh? I see you wish to join him?"

Predictably, Pecker immediately backpedaled. Jak tuned out his patronizing suggestion to "drink lots of water" -- did the birdbrain see any water around here?! -- and made urgent eye contact with Daxter.

"Go back to the city, Dax," he said sharply.

Don't die out here with me. I've gotten you into enough trouble. Don't leave Mar alone.

Ashelin wouldn't meet his eyes as she released the handcuffs.

"I'm sorry," she said half-heartedly, "The council is far too powerful. There's nothing I-"

She looked away, clearly embarrassed by her own meager apology.

"I know," Jak answered dully.

Can't overrule an entire city if they all want me dead.

He blinked and looked down as something was pressed into his hand. It was a beacon of some kind, already activated and flashing. What was-?

She's...trying to help me?

"You just stay alive," Ashelin said brusquely, "That's an order. Someone will find you, I promise."

She took a step back, then reluctantly turned back to the shuttle.

"Oh, and don't worry about the poor little Heir you've been dragging around," Veger purred, looking down his short nose at Jak.

"Freed from your deplorable influence, he'll be able to meet his full potential under my tutelage."

Jak tensed.

That's what this was about.

It wasn’t about him!

Well, it was. The other him.

Veger was after Mar.

Mar wouldn't be safe in the city if he went back.

Jak’s eyes flicked from Veger to Ashelin to Mar, and then to Daxter. He saw understanding in his best friend's eyes. Daxter understood the risks too. The ottsel was going to have to be ready to fight the instant they made it back to Haven.

Keeping his hands low, and his movements small, Jak spelled out take the kid to Sig. Stay safe.

The ramp began to rise up as the engines roared to life, and Jak pulled his scarf up to block the plumes of dust raised by the turbines. He heard a cry, then several more shouts; surprise, indignation, or anger, he couldn't tell. A small hand slipped into his own, and then he was being pulled towards the rock turrets.

"Don't look back!" Daxter's voice rang shrilly in his ear as a familiar weight landed on Jak’s shoulder. "Junior jumped out before I could stop him! Run! Run before Velcro turns that ship around!"

"This is madness!" The unwelcome voice of Pecker grated on Jak’s ears. "What are you doing?!"

Relief was overpowered by anger in that moment. That stupid kid! If he'd just kept his head down and stayed hidden, he and Daxter could've had a chance to escape! Now all four of them were going to die if they didn't find water and shelter!

Jak darted through the space between the rocks -- the one he'd thought of as the gateway to hell -- and pulled Mar to the side with him.

Mirages shimmered across an expanse of rocky soil and cactus plants-

"Ay! I told you not to touch that, my love! Look at your finger-"

Jak blinked, and the memory dissipated like smoke. Where had he heard that before? There weren't plants like this in Haven. And while there were plenty of thorny growths in Sandover, the phrasing didn't sound like anyone Jak had known.

Beside him, Mar held up a hand, fingers splayed, and squinted at it as if trying to read it. He tilted his head, then frowned and dropped his hand.

"Can't see the lighthouse," he said with a dejected look.

"Lighthouse? What lighthouse?" Daxter asked.

The little boy shrugged expressively. "Don't know. I know there's a lighthouse in the Wasteland that's supposed to save travelers, but I don’t know where it is."

Well, a lighthouse meant a lighthouse keeper, and that meant shelter. It was better than wandering aimlessly under an unforgiving sun until their legs gave out, anyway.

The boys picked their way between haphazard piles of red rock and scrubby bushes, seeking shade. Now and then, Daxter stopped to try to scrape dew off the leaves, but it was barely enough to wet their tongues.

All the while, the hum of the air train grew louder.

They needed to hide.

Jak scanned the rocks with gritted teeth, silently praying that one would have a cave or recess. There wasn't enough dark eco in his body to transform: if he had to make a hole in the rocks, he'd have to do it under his regular power. But not here. They were too close to the air train.

"Pecker," he said sharply, "Fly up."

"And let them -- raaawk! -- spot me? No thank you!" the moncaw snapped.

Jak picked up the bird hybrid and bodily tossed him into the air.

"Fly. Up." He glared at him. "Look for shelter, or anything that looks like people live there. If the air train is far enough away, we'll run for the next rock tower."

Daxter frowned. "We won't be able to do that for long," he warned. "Remember how tired we got just crossing the magma gorge back in Sandover? I got a feeling this heat is gonna really take it out of us."

Already sweat rolled down their necks, taking precious moisture from their bodies. Jak slipped his goggles down around his neck and unwrapped his scarf. Every fiber of his body told him that he was going to regret this decision, but what choice did he have? When the full length of the cloth had been shaken out -- some two feet in all -- he draped it unceremoniously over Mar's head.

"Cover up. That's about the only shade you're going to get out here."

Mar wound the scarf around his neck and face twice, but the excess still fluttered down over his chest. Just as well. That was more of him to be slightly shielded from the sun. Mar wrinkled his nose and gagged behind the scarf.

"Smells gross," he complained.

Jak ignored him and set about tying his hair up into a makeshift knot on top of his skull. If he could keep it off his neck, his body might be able to cool off a little more efficiently, but he couldn’t guarantee it. When finished, he set his goggles back in place and scanned the horizon with them.

We're on our own, now.