#so Good Job Me for managing to write some new characters that i was Entirely uncertain about

[orcelito]

Ok. Heck. I reread Sentido chapter 1 and I can understand why ppl loved it so much

[a-driftamongopenstars]

alright, i finally finished Dragon Age the Veilguard.

tldr; 3/10. I didn't like it.

If you enjoyed the game and would rather keep enjoying it, please don't click the read more section as what follows is rather critical.

I can finally sit down with my thoughts and put them together in a more cohesive structured review, touching on most things that I wanted to address. I'll start with positives and then focus on the negatives.

Warning, this is VERY long.

Overall, I had a neutral to negative impression of DatV, which got worse by the end of the game. It had some good moments, but they were entirely unexplored and underutilized, suffering from bad writing. While the game itself is rather pretty, it didn't outweigh the dialogues, the stories and the lore butchering that took place.

1. Environment and visuals. 8/10.

I think Veilguard is a very beautiful game. I enjoyed exploring the corners of this new world, the little bits of environment design and storytelling that it had. It felt magical, certain locations were mesmerizing! I couldn't stop staring at the valley where you go to with Harding, the carcass of a titan.

2. Combat. 9/10.

I love flashy combat, I enjoy hack and slash, so until the very end of the game I was having most fun in combat. Yes there was repetitiveness but I tried to combat (hehe) it with changing my abilities and weapons every now and then. I liked combos and I liked timed parries. Enemy tactics got a bit boring by the end, but a few enemies still surprised me and challenged me.

.... That's where positives end. Now on to the negatives.

1. Characters. 2/10.

I don't understand what happened. Almost all the characters in this game were tuned down to a two-dimensional personality, "good" and "bad" - and absolutely no nuance. This happened not only to the villains, but to the different NPCs and even our companions. Their interests got narrowed down to single points of interest (Lucanis and coffee being a prime example to me), their motivations got watered down.

This is not what I expect from a Bioware game. I want to be challenged, I want to dislike characters or approve of their choices. I like characters who are messy and complex and don't always have their shit together.

I like villains who may have other reasons for their choices, other than "ba ha ha, I am so evil and I will do evil things". Where is Alexius who sold himself to the Elder one, just so he could save his beloved son? Where is Samson, forsaken by the Chantry and turned to red lyrium with his addiction? Where is Calpernia, misguided in her choices, just to free the slaves of Tevinter?

Where are the slaves of Tevinter anyway?? That's another topic.

2. Rook. 4/10.

On one hand, I liked playing Rook. They were stoic but with a humorous side, ready to get the job done, compassionate to other people.

The problem is that it's the only Rook you can really play. The protagonist is set in their ways and their dialogues and there is very little to roleplay. Rook really does feel like a gentle manager, trying to get everyone to play along nicely, while providing therapy every now and then, and is excluded from the majority of friendly interactions with other people. That awkward glance everyone gives you after their banter is embarrassing. The way you can third wheel people, the way the game actively offers you to leave a couple of animated conversations between other people - why even include those? Why not make Rook a part of the 'team'?

I did like Rook's dynamic with Solas. They got to see a different side of him, one that's not presented heavily in Inquisition. But like everything else, it felt surface level and underexplored.

3. Story arc. 2/10.

I am left unsatisfied with the story. The pacing threw me off so much nearly every quest, it was hard to stay on track. From "we need to solve this NOW" to "actually, let's all slow down and deal with our problems", the plot's priorities were all over the place. We kept hearing about the gods and their destructive oppression, but we saw surprisingly little of it. Yes, there was the Blight, yes there were Venatori and the Antaam, but they felt more like a video game fodder and dressing rather than a part of the story.

Not to mention that all of those things made little sense to me. Why would the gods align with aforementioned factions? Why would the aforementioned factions align with the elven gods? In-game explanation was not enough for me, it did not make sense. Not with the established lore in the previous games.

I also did not enjoy the ending. While the idea of Solas binding himself to the Veil is good and does make sense, what was suggested as the good ending (inviting Mythal to deal with Solas essentially) actually left me feeling awful. I sent a man, full of regrets and self-loathing, on a lonely journey to figure himself out. That... did not sit right with me at all. Neither did the fact that Northern Thedas, supposedly the point of the gods' attack, gets to live and flourish, while Southern Thedas is dying of starvation and blight. That is UNHINGED to me.

4. Music. 1/10.

There was no music. I remember one track. It was not memorable whatsoever and I can't believe they hired Hans Zimmer to do exactly nothing. Just wow.

5. Lore. ???/10.

And here is the worst offender. What was done with Dragon Age lore is unacceptable. I was doing a head-in-hands every five minutes. This was a slap in the face of so many fans who enjoyed the three prior games and delved into deep, interesting lore of various races, countries, cultures and religions. Veilguard showed a big middle finger to all that.

Everyone has already touched upon the sanitization of different factions. From the suddenly slaveless Tevinter to found family Antivan Crows, everything has been scrubbed clean and made sweet and palatable and "good".

The Dalish clans have been removed from existence as we know them. The Antaam left the Qun? Don't even get me started on that. The Chantry has no influence in this game? Really? The Chantry? The biggest religion in Thedas? The one that we know has heavy presence in the Anderfels, the Black Divine in Tevinter? That Chantry?

I think it really hit me how disrespectful the game is during the quest of saving the Dalish elves, where apparently Elgar'nan's Venatori, uplifted to be his servants and chosen people, were trying to sacrifice them. It's a gross and oddly telling idea that the ancient Elven god turned to a faction of racist mages to sacrifice elven people. I actually can't believe I'm writing this. Just how much are you going to shaft these people? Mindboggling.

There is a lot more I have to say on this specific topic, and I probably will later, but the idea is this.

6. Romances. 2/10.

Whoever said this is a game with romance lied so hard. So hard. The romance was atrocious. From the badly written flirting to the lack of romantic scenes (I romanced Davrin), to the poorly timed and awkward 'final' romance moment... It was atrocious. I felt no connection between Rook and Davrin beyond what game was telling me. My actual companions got more screen time with their romances than me and my LI.

Damn, even Evka and Antoine, my single most beloved NPCs in this game, had more romance going on that my Rook.

---

All in all, Veilguard was a massive let down. After having enjoyed the first 3 games many times over, with multiple playthroughs, I was so excited to see how the story of the Inquisition, of the elves, would end. When I saw the first trailer for VG, I knew I would never get to see it. When I played the game, I was left with disappointment and disdain.

I'm glad there are people who enjoyed this game, genuinely. I'm sure there's something to find for anyone, but it was not for me. Nor was it for many other people. It was a let down. I feel like I'll never get the conclusion I wanted - so I'll have to write my own I guess.

I have more thoughts on this game that I might be sharing, but for now this is the review I wanted to write. Thanks for reading!

[silentmoths]

A lick and a promise

Its been *squints* Seven months since i cooked.

god damn its been seven whole ass months CRIES

Boothill got me so fkn good i cant even BEGIN to explain why he's such a comfort character for me ok he just IS.

Boothill x Reader (fem but it's really only mentioned in regards to anatomy.)

NSFW

Enemies to Lovers (kinda?), Smut, Hurt/comfort (kinda?), Oral sex, fingering, boothill is a gd kendoll (sorry boothill genatalia nation i just...wanted to write this like he was a ken doll LEAVE ME-)

7k words, NOT PROOFREAD

The first time you run into the Galaxy Ranger known as Boothill, you’re not sure what to make of him.

You were just an unsuspecting casualty, the pilot, nothing more. Flying ships for the IPC had to beat minimum wage, right? This was your first real gig with them, something a little more secure.

If you managed to make it off pier point without having a gun aimed at you that is.

A…cowboy. You’d heard about them, of course, but seeing one in this day and age was almost unheard of unless you travelled to planets far out in the west, ones untouched by the IPC and their ‘modernizations’.

Yet this cowboy also seemed to be touched by said modernizations, considering almost all of him was made of metal. Hell, all of him might be synthetic, nanotechnology was a terrifying thing, it could eat away the organic and replace it with the inorganic, mimicking skin and its blemishes, hair and all its different shades, like the curtain of black and white you see before you. 

“Han’s where I can fudgin’ see em.” He warns quietly, pistol pointed directly between your eyes. You do as he asks, why wouldn’t you? You weren’t being paid enough to put your life on the line for…whatever the hell you were carrying, you didn’t know, the IPC didn’t enforce ledger-checks- You tell the cowboy as much when he asks.

“Yeah that tracks.” he mutters with a roll of his visible eye. “Lookit’ you, still wet behind the darned ears.” 

“D-do I get a pardon i-if I told you it was my first day on the job?” you manage to squeak out, a terrible habit really, opening your mouth in times you should really stay silent…but the cowboy cracks a grin, a very sharp-toothed grin.

“Ah heck, really?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he spins his pistol in his hand and tucks it away into its holster. “Look I aint’ got no beef with ya. ya ‘ aint even wearin’ an IPC uniform-” “C-contract work.” You cut in with your explanation, only scolding yourself after the fact for, once again, interrupting the one with the gun. “The IPC really gettin that desperate, huh?” He snorts, his robotic fingers flexing as he himself goes to check the ledger, it was obvious he’d done this a few times…perhaps thats why the IPC had started hiring a third party, someone new for him to kill.

And yet he doesn’t kill you. 

He ties you up, sure, but he’s not an entire ass about it, he even apologises when he pulls the rope a little too tight and you squint.

“S’a formality.” He mumbles as he ties the knot tight “y’understand.”

“I guess…Just…thanks for not killing me I guess, Mr.Cowboy.” You shrug, perhaps you were still in a little bit of shock, perhaps you were coping with humour and ‘funny’ comments…perhaps, inside, you wanted to cry because of course of all the times to be held at gunpoint it was your first day working for the IPC.

“Name’s Boothill.” He corrects. Boothill, huh? You’d read about that…some eons old name for gunslinging cowboys who should have been dead. 

After you had been discovered, set free, and promptly fired, you decide to look up this ‘Boothill’ character; you find little other than his bounty…whoever he was, he kept himself pretty closed off…made sense for a galaxy ranger.

-

The second time you encounter Boothill, you’re working on a satellite array. It’s a shit job, it was freezing cold out here, and the welding masks given to you and your coworkers by your bosses were cheap, low quality, offering little protection from the welding torch and its bright, concentrated glare.

After your firing from pier point, no other freighting company was willing to take you on, and in a desperate attempt to get some damned food into your belly, you’d taken this job on some far out meteorite, repairing this shitty, run down satellite so the IPC could extend their reach further.

If the bosses had bothered to do a background check, they would have seen the unfortunate mark next to your name.

’Banned from all positions within IPC jurisdiction’ 

But considering the shit pay, shit hours, and shit accommodation? The old hand’s out here didn’t really care much for the ‘official’ rules; so long as you weren’t being actively hunted.

There was no sun out here, so every few hours there was a mandatory UV break, in which you all got to return to the little sleeping pods that were nothing but glorified transport containers with a wall sectioning off one third to make a bathroom; just to sit beneath a UV bulb. 

Whoever had lived in this one before you had stuck up a picture of a beach on the wall you had to stare at beneath the lamp, and faintly, you wonder if they ever made it there- or had they just keeled over dead from overwork? That seemed more likely, considering nothing had been cleaned out of your pod when you’d arrived. 

As you bask in your shitty, simulated sun, an explosion wracks the entire facility, sending you toppling to the floor as the world spins, cracks apart, opens like the gnashing teeth of some horrific space creature.

Was it a space creature? Had the meteorite collided with something it shouldn’t have? You didn’t want to find out, but you sure as fuck weren’t about to stay here and probably die once the oxygen field around the place sputtered out. The emergency guide tape’s you’d been forced to watch are nothing to help against the real thing, a real emergency. There are sirens blaring, the stark white light’s had all died, replaced by that infuriatingly anxiety inducing red as you struggle to put your space suit on. 

Just make it to a shuttle, they weren’t far, thats all you had to do.

It’s a mantra you tell yourself as the ceiling above you begins to crack and crumble, your time here was up. 

As you wrench open the door to your pod, you collide with someone. Considering you yourself looked like a glorified marshmallow in the emergency suit, you certainly weren't expecting the person you collided with to be as…hard as they were, solid like steel to the point you’re sent toppling back and unceremoniously onto your back, like a turtle.

A familiar pistol is pointed at your helmet.

No fucking way.

Boothill stands there, grin on his face and a gun in yours as he looks you up and down before howling with laughter. “Now what in the hay is that?” he wheezes as you struggle, only to stop when you push the visor of your helmet up, revealing a face he recalls. “No fudgin’ way-”

“You again!” You screech, flailing your limbs as you attempt to stand in this…ungainly suit. “What the fuck are you doing here now!?”

“I could ask you the same mother forkin’ question!” He barks back, yet despite it all, he withdraws the pistol and even shows some mercy, reaching down to pull you back onto your feet “the fork you doin here?” 

“Well, someone got me fired from my last job!” you snark at him “and now it looks like I'm out of another, what did you do!?” “Blew up tha’ satellite!” He chuckles as if he’d just won at an arcade game and not caused millions of credits in damages. You open your mouth to…you don’t even know- Shout? Scold a wanted criminal? Beg for mercy? When the world tilts again, the sound of rock cracking and metal creaking fills your senses; resulting in you simply screaming out of fear. 

This was it, this was where you died. On a rock, in the middle of space, blown to smithereens by a cowboy. Except, the cowboy reaches down, and for a moment you think he’s going to kill you, just to stop the screaming. Instead, he grabs your arm and yanks you upright without a word, tugging you along behind him like you weighed nothing in this stupid marshmallow safety suit. (perhaps, to a cyborg, you didn’t weigh anything.)

Boothill cares little for the smoke and the flames, and you are just a leaf in his wind, guided through it all with scary precision until there is suddenly nothing and you realise what he’d just done.

This fucking cowboy galaxy ranger had just leaped off of the edge of the meteorite, dragging you along with him. 

Correction; this is how you die, once you left the gravitational field, you’d just be stuck…floating in the void of space forever…no one would ever find your body-

Before your thought can finish, you crash into something hard, a ship, you realise, you had fallen into the open loading hatch of a ship, unlike boothill who landed on his feet, you’re simply a pile on the floor.

You hear the cowboy laugh as he turns to look at you, and you thank the fact that you’re face down from keeping your likely red, teary face from his scrutiny. 

“Y’alright down there?” He asks.

“Peachy.” you mutter back, your muscles ached, but the adrenaline was already beginning to wane, suddenly the suit felt…heavy, impossibly heavy as you listen to the sound of the ship’s hatch closing. “Why’d you save me?”

Boothill thinks on it for a moment. Why had he saved you? It wasn’t really his M.O, saving people, especially when they worked for the IPC…he supposes a part of him felt a little bad… you hadn’t been working for them directly last time…and because of his stunt, you’d lost that job and had resorted to working for them in this backwater shithole of an array. 

“Eh, Y’aint worth killin.” he responds after a moment “S’not like you’re the mother fudger I’m looking for anyways.” 

Something about the way he says it…stings. Not worth killing? 

Slowly you sit up, a terribly ungraceful affair in this stupid space suit as you pull the helmet off entirely and toss it to the floor, there was no point hiding the tears anymore. 

“Wh- hey now! What’s got in yer’ boot?” Boothill balks at your teary face “what’s tha’ matter?”

You hate how stupid you must look, crying, red in the face…embarrassing really. But after the scare you’d just had, you don’t have the forwithall to keep your composure anymore.

“Whats the matter?” you mutter, staring at the cold, metal floor of the ship “what’s the matter is that you have single handedly managed to lose me not one, but TWO JOBS!” 

You don’t mean to shout, really, you should be thanking him for saving your life. 

“I’m BANNED from working for the IPC!” you cry “I wasn’t even meant to be working here! But where else am I meant to go!? EVERY job is somehow overseen by some division of the IPC, I can’t work anywhere else! Now you say I’m not even worth killing!?”

Boothill stares, the gears turning as he simply takes the emotional vitriol thrown his way. It had been…a long time since he’d found himself faced with this kind of problem.

“Aw shirt…” he mutters, realising his words had only worsened the situation. He takes a knee, pulling his hat off as he watches, he sees the way you’re shaking, your fingers flexing; he might be ‘old fashioned’, but he could recognize a panic attack. “C’mere, let's get this great forkin marshmallow suit off ya.” 

You don’t even have the faculties to push him away as cold, robotic fingers begin tugging away at the velcro, the zippers and the straps. Breathing was getting harder, everything ached. Only once the galaxy ranger had pulled you free of the confines of that damned suit could you expand your chest properly. Too small, you realised, the suit you’d been given was way too small.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Boothill mutters as he sits you down “jus’ breathe.” 

Easy for him to say, did a cybernetic cowboy even need to breathe?

He could see the struggle, but what the hell was he meant to do about it? It wasn’t wrong..the IPC had their fingers in so many pies… finding a job untouched by them? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack. 

It wasn’t often Boothill felt…guilty. But somehow…you’d managed it.

“Aw c’mon, don’t gimme the waterworks.” he sighs “Look…ah’ll admit I forked up your job prospects, I’ll fudgin’ take that responsibility… will ya at least lemme see if I can help?”

“What can you do!?” You cry at him “If the IPC catches wind that I’ve somehow been caught up with you again-”

“Lemme take ya to a planet the IPC don’t care ‘bout.” He cuts in suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “Been there plenty, they’re good folk, they’ll help ya.. Ya just…gotta trust me.” A planet untouched by the IPC? That seemed like a pipe dream…

“Impossible.” you mutter “any planet the IPC finds, it conquers.”

Boothill grins, that same toothy grin you remember from your first encounter with him. “I know, right? But this one? This one’s special.”

Eyama II was a small planet with little in the way of resources the IPC wanted or needed, a dwarf planet no less, nothing but a speck of dust floating through their air filters. It was a self-sufficient, homely type place…if he was being honest with himself, it’s where he would want to retire if he ever saw his goal through…living the simple life he used to know before the IPC had ripped it from him. 

He knows it’s not the most…elegant solution, but he knew some fine folk there, some fine folk who might just be willing to help the poor outcast he’d created. -

It’s a long trip. It had to be if it was out of the IPC’s gaze…but that did mean a long trip with Boothill.

In a tiny two person at most ship.

You didn’t really know what to expect, if he’d just tie you up and put you in the corner…but as it turns out…he’s somewhat hospitable… ok more than somewhat.

After you’d calmed enough to be reasoned with, he’d handed you a bottle of nondescript nature. Without much thinking, you’d taken a swig, eyes widening at the distinctly alcoholic taste. It wasn't anything strong like whiskey, but it was enough of a shock.

“Malt juice.” He clarifies as he takes a seat at the helm, setting the warp drive “figured it’d help calm ya nerves.” You blink down at the bottle before slowly taking another, more temperate sip.

It…wasn’t bad…actually it was pretty good. It burned your throat just enough to keep you in the present.

You both talk…small things, you ask him how he knew of this planet, and tells you about all the planets he’d visited that weren’t under the IPC’s thumb, how all of them were nice, simple places.

He tells you that he thinks you’d like Eymaya II, he thinks everyone would like Eymaya II. It had rolling hills and green valley’s. The people were mostly farmers, ranchers, common folk just going through the motions to get by, but not in the same nihilistic sort of way most did. Good, honest living, as he says.

Part of you wonders if there ever was a time this ranger worked a good honest life, if this whole…cowboy thing was a facade, or if it was real, remnants of a past he couldn’t return to. You’re not sure if it’s his conversation, the malt juice, or both, but you eventually begin to open up, about your home life, about your terrible habit of cutting into conversations when you were nervous, all of it. 

And when you begin to fall asleep? Your head nodding slowly where you sat, you feel a cold, metal hand rest on your shoulder.

“C’mon, you need ta’ rest.” He tells you, guiding you to the cot that looked seldom, if at all used.

For a wanted criminal who had put you out of two jobs and nearly killed you both times…he was surprisingly kind.

-

He wasn’t wrong about this planet. It was beautiful, the air was fresher than you could ever recall, living in the city.

Apparently, the look on your face says as much. Boothill chuckles, tilting his head softly as he watches you take it all in. “Told ya ye’d like it.” He hums, something in his mechanical chest whirring with..pride perhaps? Satisfaction? He wasn’t entirely sure, but seeing a face that, so far, all he’d seen from was fear and upset finally show…wonder…it felt good. He wanted to see it more, perhaps even a smile one day. 

He takes you to the inn, sets you up with Jodie, an elderly woman who had been around the block quite a few times, she didn’t put up with Boothill’s antics, more like…a curmudgeonly aunt at first as she barks at him for not calling in sooner, only for it all to melt away into an almost familial warmth as the cowboy explains himself, explains you.

“now child I know you did not lose this poor thing not one but TWO jobs!” She scolds, hands on her hips. 

There is a lick of satisfaction as you watch boothill shrink beneath the innkeeper’s rage. 

“Donchu’ worry hon, we’ll getcha set up here, somewhere this block for brains can’t accidentally getchu fired. Only thing that’ll do that around here is laziness…you aint lazy, are you?” she asks, turning to you and squinting her beady, aged eyes at you, making you stiffen up as well.

“N-no ma'am!” you bark instantly “I-I promise to work hard and earn my keep!”

This atleast, seems to settle her some, and before you know it, you have a hot meal and an ice cold drink in front of you, and you want to cry again.

You actually feel…somewhat sad when boothill has to leave…anxiety twisting in your gut… would you really be okay here? Would you survive? 

But he pats you on the shoulder and grins, and something about it is…comforting.

Something about it made you want to try.

-

It’s five years until you see Boothill again.

Jodie had grown too old to continue running the inn, and somehow, against all odds, it was you who had taken over. The entire place was yours, and you were happy. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t wonder how you ended up here, but then you recall, the enigmatic cyborg cowboy who had hijacked your ship, and then blown up a satellite array.

Somehow, your outlook on him had turned from disdain to…a strange sort of affection. The frigid anger had melted away, and what replaced it was a sense of…thankfullnes for what he’d done for you. Working here, away from the almost all-encompassing reach of the IPC had opened your eyes to just how…corporate everything felt, and how it so desperately wasn't you. 

It’s a late evening, you’re closing up for the night, the bar had emptied of all it’s usual late-staying regulars, and those who had rooms rented for the evening had already retired. 

You’re polishing a few glasses when the door swings open.

“Well now, there’s a face I ain’t seen in a forkin long time.” 

The voice is familiar, and has you turning, a small smile tugging at your lip. A mixture of feelings racing through your chest.

“Well well, come to let me collect your bounty, Sir?” you snicker, placing the glass you’d just polished beneath the malt juice tap to pour him a glass.

Boothill laughs, sauntering in with the swagger you remember as he drops into the stool closest to you. “How’ve you been, Boothill?” you ask him, setting the glass in front of him and waving away his credits. You owed him one drink, atleast, “what’ve you been up to?”

The galaxy ranger snorts, throwing some of his long hair over his shoulder “How long ya’ got there, sweetheart? S’gonna be a long story.”

“I own the place now, and we’re closed, so all the time in the world.” you hum, deciding to pour yourself a glass as well after locking the door. “Shoot, really? What happened to ol’ jodie?” He asks, voice tinged with legitimate concern as you drop into the barstool beside him.

“She’s fine, she’s fine..just old is all.” You assure him, finding a little comfort in the relief that washes over his features.

“Ah, fork don't scare a guy like that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair “thought Jodie had up n’ left us.”

“Nah, she’s got a while on her yet.” you snort, taking a sip of your drink.

The conversations run long into the night, catching up, listening to the thing’s he’d done, places he’d seen…IPC operations he’d torn apart at the seams. He listens to you too, as you tell him about how things have been here, catching him up on anyone he asked about. It was like talking to an old friend. You weren't sure…what boothill was to you…a friend? An acquaintance? It was…complicated. 

More malt juice enters your systems, you ask if it actually has an affect on him.

“You know…being a cyborg and all..” you mumble, feeling a distinct warm dusting to your cheeks as the malt settles. 

Instead of responding with words, the galaxy ranger reaches out and takes your hand into his. He feels…

Warm.

“You tell me, darlin.” He chuckles after a moment, watching you though half-lidded eyes. You barely even notice, more curious about how the alcohol affected him. Without even thinking, you run your fingers along his exposed arm; you weren’t going crazy, he was warm, almost humanly so. 

Your fingers continue to wander without much thought until they brush along his jawline; the sudden transition from steel to skin is what finally snaps you out of your own thoughts, pulling back with a squeak.

“O-Oh aeons I’m sorry!” you fluster at his face, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar. “I-I got carried away I’m-”

His hand reaches out again, clasping yours and pulling it back towards his face as he rests his cheek into your palm.

“Don't.” He murmurs, softly, softer than you’d heard him before. “Keep goin…please.”

A realisation settles across your mind.

“You…you can’t feel most touch…can you?” 

He doesn't look you in the eye, but he does sigh, only burying closer to your warm palm, worn after years of working hard…but still human.

“S’not that I can’t feel…I can…but..s’mtimes it’s so forkin dull I might as well not…but..my face is…”

“One of the few places you can feel.” You finish the sentence for him, feeling a pang of sympathy. You didn’t know how long Boothill had been like this, but you could wager long enough that he was more desperate for a kind touch than he probably even realised.

“Yeh…” he mutters, his lips turning down into a frown “sorry…ah know it’s probably-”

“Shut up.” you mutter, turning to face him fully, your other hand coming to rest on the other cheek as you watch this man, this gunslinging galaxy ranger, falter. His eyes widen before he shuts them entirely, leaning into it, starved of this type of affection.

“F’ya don’t stop this bullshirt m’gonna think you might have some feelin’s for me, darlin’..”

You didn’t know if thats what it was…but you didn’t want to stop either, a part of you wanting to sate you own selfish curiosity…another part wanting to do this for him.

“It must be a lonely existence, living like you do.” the murmur leaves your lips before you even notice you’d spoken out loud, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. Boothill stares at you in silence for a long moment, his gaze calculating, probing. 

“I thought ya’ hated my forkin guts…” He mutters.

“Perhaps once, for a little bit, I did.” You admit “But then you brought me here, and I’ve never been happier..”

A beat passes, then another, and another. Boothill stares at you, the feel of your hands on his face something he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

And then he leans forward, lips crash together and the taste of Malt juice and perhaps a little bit of oil is on your tongue.

You don’t pull back, if anything, you lean into it shamelessly. 

Robotic hands grip your waist as your own finally shift from his face to wrap around his shoulders. At some point his hat goes flying off elsewhere, but neither of you care; too strung tight, too wound up to care.

His teeth are as sharp as they look, but he’s careful with them as he nips at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the little beat of blood he manages to draw.

“Shirt-” He mutters against your lips, his eyes shut tight, you can hear his inner mechanics whirring, like a mechanical heart about to rabbit from his chest “fudge, if you don’t stop me now darlin I’m gonna keep taking-”

“Then take.” you mutter back at him, tangling your hands into his surprisingly silky hair and yanking. “Take what you want.”

“Oh trust me, I would but..” Boothill’s growl trails off, and for a moment he looks…embarrassed. You can’t for the life of you figure out why until he steps closer, your knee brushing between his legs- oh.

“Flat as a forkin’ brass tack.” he mumbles. 

You’re not sure why, it might just be the curse of your horrible humour, but your attempt at not giggling only sets you off into laughter that you attempt to muffle into his shoulder.

“Ey, watchu laughin at?” you expect boothill to be…mad at your outburst, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, feel the tremble of his own laughter “t’aint funny.”

“It kinda is.” you snicker out, pulling back to look him in the face. He looks a little sheepish, but thankfully, mostly just amused. “It’s okay…we’ll figure something out..”

His toothy grin settles back into a dangerous little smirk as the moment passes again, the kind of smirk that makes your belly twist a little. “Oh yeah, I got some other tricks up my sleeves.” 

Without much more to say, you find yourself being lifted, thrown over the cowboy’s shoulder- as you open your mouth to say something, you’re interrupted with a harsh slap to your ass, resulting in nothing but a squeak.

“Where’s yer room?” He snickers as you glare at him. 

You consider not telling him, being a brat, but the charming smile he returns to you is… yeah it does something stupid that goes right to your crotch. 

“Upstairs…first door on the left.” you mutter, flustering at the way his grin widens. 

If you didn’t know better you’d almost describe Boothill as practically skipping up the stairs, the angle for you however was a little trepidatious, and you find yourself clinging to him for a little more stability, right up until he carefully tosses you down onto the plush of your bed, landing with a soft thud.

He’s back on you, and your hands are back on him without him needing to ask; you can see the relief it brings, the way his eyelids flutter and his brow pinches as your fingers glide across his cheek, down his chest and along his arms, still warm, you note…

His lips return too, his own hands untucking your shirt just to get under it, metal fingers gliding over the smooth of your belly, up the your sides as he groans into your mouth. You wonder how much he can actually feel, if it was still dull, or if the alcohol had heightened his mechanical touch sensors somehow. You didn’t care, he looked happy, legitimately happy, like a dog being scratched behind the ears as you indulge him. 

His lips move from yours and he begins to nip and taste elsewhere, his nose brushing against your own as he leans in, nuzzling at your cheek, nipping at your jaw, revelling in the little sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you, especially when his wandering hands wrap behind your back and find the clasp of your bra, it comes undone with a surprisingly expert tug and you moan softly at it. 

(Who could blame you? You’d been wearing the damn thing all day.) 

You wished there was something you could do for him, something to pleasure him like he was doing for you, but you forced yourself to be content with touching him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at the soft strands; running your thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the shells of his ears.

Boothill however, seemed just as hellbent on touching you, but he had far more room to move, to explore, to play. 

Metal thumbs find your nipples, embarrassingly hard and sensitive after being trapped in the confines of your bra all day, and you moan as he rolls them both, back and forth in a slow, methodical rhythm that leaves your breath light, and your stomach twisting in knots. 

Pointed teeth find your throat, nibbling and worshipping every inch of skin they could catch. You’d have to wear a scarf tomorrow if he kept that up, lest the regulars at the bar notice the strange bruising… but you don’t stop him; you were all in on…whatever this was now. 

A metal hand pulls away long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt, leaving the plane of your torso open and exposed to his gaze, nothing short of hungry as he stares down at you. 

“Fudge…” he mutters, his voice husky “That’s a nice view…” 

“Tease.” you huff.

“Tease? Oh ah’ll show you tease.” He snickers, his mouth returning to your skin, working lower, biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, nibbling along your collarbone before the cowboy shifts further, his tongue darting out to lap at one nipple whilst a hand works the other.

You gasp and moan, a hand quickly coming to muffle your cries, cheeks alight with embarrassment at the sudden outburst. Boothill only chuckles, his eyes trained to your face as he lays, settling between your legs as he rests atop you to continue his work, but at least he doesnt pull your hand away, too engrossed on what he could feel opposed to what he could see and hear. 

He switches breasts while his free hand trails down, over the soft plane of your belly and to your belt, unbuckling it with ease and sending the strap of leather flying across the room before those fingers return, popping the button of your work jeans and dragging the fly down. You groan softly in appreciation at the relief it brings, only to feel those metal fingers working the waistband down.

Just what was he planning? you wonder internally as he gives your nipple one last, harsh suck before releasing it, making you keen beneath your hand. 

“Feelin good, darlin?” he whispers. He sure sounded like he was feeling good as he nuzzles against your skin, nipping at your stomach and trailing lower, hands gripping at your jeans, pulling them and your underwear away in one swoop, leaving you open, exposed, and embarrassingly wet. “Y’sure look it..” he adds with a low whistle “aint that a sight.”

“B-boothill-” You mumble, an attempt at closing your legs out of embarrassment only sandwiching his head betwixt your thighs. He grins at you; it’s such an endearingly handsome thing, it makes you feel like this wasn’t a first time thing between you both, like he knew you, like he was comfortable with you, which only added to the heat in your belly.

“Aw don’t go gettin all fudgin’ coy on me now.” he snickers “After all those drinks’ ya’ gave me downstairs, I’m still kinda thirsty.” 

His metal hands part your measly human thighs with shameful ease as he leans in close; you squeal when you feel his hot tongue lave down your inner thigh, warm breath so achingly close to your cunt it was maddening.

But it seemed Boothill was just as desperate as you were, his mouth attaching to your cunt after only a moment, taking in your squeal as his teeth gently roll your clit, the added danger only serving to make you wetter. 

“F-fuck! Boothill-!” you moan out, forsaking keeping yourself silent as your own hands scramble across the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself as his tongue laps at your folds with fever; they eventually find and settle in his hair before giving it a tug.

Boothill groans, the sting is only arbitrary, but he loves it, he loves being able to feel something. The warm plush of your thighs around his ears, the heat of your cunt as he sucks on your clit, only made sweeter by your cries. He’d missed this, he’d missed this a lot..

“Y’aint seen nothin’ yet, darlin.” He growls low and loving against your thigh in the brief moment of reprieve he gives you. You stare down at him with hooded eyes,your knees already trembling from his vicious onslaught; he nips the soft, sensitive flesh of your thigh with a cheeky smirk, holding up a pair of fingers, watching your face as he slowly drags them through your wet folds, collecting your slick; you gulp. “Like a’ said, I got a few fun lil’ tricks up my sleeves.” His mouth returns, lapping and pulling you right back into the overwhelming, wonderful pleasure as a slick metal finger circles your entrance, slow, methodical, torturous. You nearly sob with relief when he finally presses the digit inside, the metal actually making it easier. He hums his approval at how easily his finger is sucked in, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out; taking things at his pace- perfect.

After a little while, you feel that finger beginning to probe, to prod and search for your G-spot, and before long he finds it, signalled by a loud gasp and a sharp tug at his hair, only pulling his mouth closer, his tongue working away at your clit like he wasn’t driving you absolutely mad with pleasure.

Once he’d found the spot, he retreats, slowly adding the second finger and beginning the cycle again, stretching you, filling you stupidly well; it was an absolute tragedy that he didn’t have a dick…at this point you were so stupidly horny, you would have climbed on top of him just for a chance to ride him.

(somewhere in the back of your mind, the saying ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ reverberates) 

As you’re right at the height, right at the edge, he suddenly stops, his fingers cease their movements and he pulls his head away, resting his chin on your naval as he stares up at you with such a stupidly loving look that it makes your heart twist; his chin was absolutely drenched in your slick, but he looked so very content.

But you weren’t.

“B-boothillllll-” you whimper, tugging at his hair again, why had he stopped!? Now of all times? You could feel his metal fingers pressed against your G-spot, but unmoving, they did little to pleasure you. You clench around them, but that too, yields little results.

“Sorry sweetheart, just wanted to see your face when I did it.” He chuckles, his smile twitching up in the corner.

“D-do whAT-” your question cuts off abruptly when the fingers inside you suddenly burst to life with vibrations, the strength of which you’d never experienced before. Your body coils and you nearly scream as he rams those fingers into your G-spot, stars exploding behind your eyes whilst pleasure cuts through your belly like glass. 

“That.” He hums, satisfied as he returns that sinful mouth of his to your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. His fingers were harsh and rough, crooking into your G-spot one second, and then splaying out the next, dragging rough and harsh against your walls; his tongue however was soft, gentle, slowly and carefully rolling circles around your poor little nub. You were going to go crazy, he was going to drive you insane and you were absolutely letting him. Your body reacts on its own, thighs squeezing hard around his head, spine arched upward; your hips prevented from bucking thanks to one of his arms, wrapped solidly around your thigh and holding you down to the sheets, forcing you to lay there and take it.

You knew the walls here were decently soundproof, but even you began to question if they could muffle out your cries, made worse when Boothill suddenly sits up, pulling you up along with him, practically folding you in half as he continues to feast on your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, his vibrating fingers plunging somehow deeper.

At first you struggle for air with the new position, your knees almost at your chest, but then he switches the angle of his fingers and aeons-, you didn’t think it could get worse than this. But the pleasure this new angle brings, it’s new, its terrifying and you don’t quite know how to articulate that to the galaxy ranger causing it all. Your hands scramble clawing and tugging at any part of him you could get ahold of, his name falling from your lips along with incoherent babble, desperation and worry all balling into one feeling you couldn’t describe as he continues to piston those fingers into you, hitting your G-spot with such accuracy, the flame in your gut turning from a high heat to a near-volcanic overload as you jerk and struggle.

The final straw is when you crack open an eye, catching sight of him, staring back at you with such…love, such unbridled affection.

You scream his name as you cum, harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Your faintly feel yourself make an absolute mess of his face, arms, your back and the sheets below you as your world turns white.

–

A soft, damp cloth carefully rubbing over your skin slowly pulls you back into reality, rousing you from the soft and gauzy subspace of post-orgasmic bliss. You try to shift, to sit up…to…something- but a hand carefully manoeuvres you to lay back down on a thankfully, dry patch of sheets.

“Easy, darlin’” Boothill’s familiar southern drawl hushes you down “Nearly done.”

You crack an eye to find him carefully cleaning you off with said damp towel. Methodical but careful. You’re trembling from the exertion, but boothill looks absolutely fine, the bastard. 

In fact, he looks better than fine. A smile plastered on his stupid face as he works away, wiping sweat and other…fluids, off of you. 

When he was done with that, he wraps you in a clean sheet and lifts you, sitting you down on the trunk at the end of your bed, just so he could change the set you’d obliterated with your unexpectedly rough orgasm. You sit there, watching him, half asleep and pleasantly dozy before he pulls you back into bed, pulling you into his side. A glass of water is pressed against your lips as he encourages a few sips into you. 

You spend the night sleeping with him curled around you; the quiet whirr of his mechanical body providing a pleasing, soft white noise while hands stroke through your hair.

–

“Do you have to go so soon?” You ask as he reaches for his hat.

He’d been here a week, and it had been…for lack of a better word; wonderful. 

But all good things had to come to an end you supposed. The look on his face was enough to tell you what you didn’t want to hear.

“I gotta. I ain’t done yet.” He tells you quietly, despite this, he holds out a hand, a silent request for you to walk with him…the inn and the bar would be fine for a little while.

“I’d ask ya t’come with me, but that’d be the biggest forkin mistake I could ever make.” the cowboy admits. He wanted you to, he’d never felt so content as he had in this week, but bringing you meant putting you in danger…aeons know he’d done that enough already.

“Will you…at least come and visit me?” 

Boothill snorts as they meander their way towards his ship “O’course I will.”

“How often?”

“S’often as I forkin can.” 

You both stop beside the ship, it had a few more dings and dents than you remember, but it was still in surprisingly good condition.

“Well…” you mumble “at least you know you’ll always have a room at the inn while I still run it.”

“Y’mean yer’ room?” He snickers. “I forkin hope you intend on running the place as long as possible, I pulled in a good favor from jodie to get ya yer’ start ‘ere.”

You smile at him. Boothill thanks every aeon in existence that his cybernetic eyes had a camera function, so he could save that face and look back on it when he was drifting through the universe.

Slowly, he pulls his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as he leans down to press his lips to yours, one last time for the road.

“I’ll be back as soon and as often as I forkin can…y’hear?” He murmurs, you nod; fighting away the sting behind your eyes as you step back.

“I hear…and…Boothill?” you ask as he turns around to step onto his ship, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[alpaca-clouds]

Arcane Season 2 - How Bad Pacing Can Ruin Everything

So, Arcane season 2 ended. And I am sorry, I need to vent.

I am honestly not sure whether the rumors are true and this were originally meant to be more seasons. The Riot CEO apparently denies it, but then again, I have seen CEOs confidently go out on stages to talk about a project which they knew was cancelled at that point in time. So, sorry, but I will never ever trust a CEO. Lying is like 50% of their jobs. Being greedy is the other half. Sorry, not sorry.

I am gonna write something about disability in Arcane (overall) during the next few days, but let me just talk a bit about the pacing issues of season 2.

Spoilers for season 2 - all of it - obviously.

Believe me or not, but I know the exact issue of Arcane season 2. It is called: Too many characters. Too many plotlines. It is something that easily happens when writing an ensemble story (no matter what the format is you publish the story in - it happens in books, movies, shows, games). At times it works fine if you manage to weave the entire ensemble into the same main plot. But as soon as you wanna give everyone their own little storyarc with a bit of their own themes, it often goes haywire. Either you will end up dropping some characters to the side and not properly finish up their story, or you will end up rushing everything. Neither is gonna be good.

Here I am mainly thinking... Was the entire Black Rose/LaBlanc stuff planned to be there from the beginning? Was it put in later? I mean, given that the entire story felt like it might set up Mel as a Champion for LoL... How do I put it? Mel was too overdesigned in the show, to not be a future Champion. That was my feeling from the beginning. I don't know if they gonna make her a Champion, but man, it feels like it.

But no, the main issue really is the pacing. There is just too much stuff happening.

I will remain, that the thing that shows this better than anything was the second "arc" of season 2. Episode 4-6. And the general way the entire Caitlyn, Vi, Jinx thing plays out. We have the following things happen in the first six episodes of season 2:

Cait's mother dies

Cait swears revenge and asks Vi to assist her as an enforcer

Vi does not want to. Ends up getting drunk.

Vi decides to do it anyway.

They do a bit of chemical warfare for good measures.

They go down there. Fight Jinx. Vi cannot do it - partly because Isha.

Cait breaks up with Vi and becomes the evil fascist dictator

Vi becomes an alcohol addict.

Except, never mind, Caitlin is already feeling shitty about it next episode.

Jinx gets Vi and Magic Pixie Dreamgirls her out of her new-found addiction.

Jinx and Vi are good again. They go help Vander.

Cait meets Vi for the first time since the break up. They instantly are back on the same page.

Like, there is so many plothooks in this storyline alone that do go completely unexplored.

There are two characters here, that do play a role in the last three episodes too and that felt like they were some proper characters at some point. Those two are Maddie - the Scottish-dialect enforcer girl - and... Frankly, I do not feel like looking up the name. The big burly one, who after the break-up takes care of Vi.

Those two feel like they were at some point meant to be more real characters. But because of the pacing, they are barely ideas. Maddie starts making out with Caitlyn because...? I don't know. Because I literally do not know anything about this character but "she is an enforcer", "she is queer", "she is attracted to power(?)", and thats it.

And the other guy goes with Vi because... Uhm... I don't know. I know literally nothing about this chaaracter other than that he is big and an enforcer. *shrugs*

It most certainly feels like there was some planned version of this show, in which Cait and Vi both had a proper corruption arc. In which we really saw the two of them struggle. In which we actually saw Piltover and Zaun under the control of Commander Caitlyn and Noxus, and saw the horrible things they were doing and what it was doing with Caitlyn. In which we also saw Vi struggling with addiction and stuff.

But that was not the version we got in the end. Instead in this version... things go magically well.

Hooray?

Same with Jinx. Her mental health issues just magically get better when Isha is there, because that is what the story needs to happen now.

Here, too, it also feels like huge chunks of the story are missing. It feels like there was a story going more into the relationship of Sevika and Jinx for a bit. But if that story had been there once, it was most certainly no longer there. It was hinted at, yeah, but that's it.

And then there is the entire magic plot.

Look, I think among the fans of the LoL Lore I am not the first one to say: "Yeah, trying to marry the worldbuilding of Arcane to the established Runeterra worldbuilding does not work, because of the magic." Runeterra so far was always a fairly high magic world - at least that was implied by comics and short stories. Magic was a common thing in this world. Otherwise we could not have that many magic champions and a whole place whose entire thing it had been: "We are anti-magic Nazis building mage concentration camps!"

When Riot said, that Arcane was now the main canon, A LOT of fans of the lore were like: "You get that it is not gonna work." And yeah, Arcane Season 2 clearly shows how it doesn't work.

Because the way they put in the entire "Mel is magic, also the Black Rose is a thing" stuff just... It did not fit in the entire plot around it. Because Arcane had been designed as a world where magic was very rare and strange. But now Mel had to be magic and somehow had to be connected to the Black Rose.

Also... What the fuck even happened there in the end? Why put that in? Why make Mel go against LaBlanc? I am sorry, but that was simply too much for this plot. The entire Black Rose stuff stuck out of this plot like - pardon the pun - a thorn.

Generally there are several relationships that feel, like they had at one point been a whole more explored, but then got dropped to the wayside.

As I said, Sevika and Jinx are definitely an example. Ekko and Heimerdinger as well. I also feel like what was episode 7 of the show was probably originally more than one episodes and slower paced - though it still to me was the one episode in this, that kinda worked in of itself. And that the Ekko and Jinx relationship was better established.

I also feel that Viktor and that echo of Skye was probably at some point supposed to actually have talks. Like: "I will miss talking to you." - "No, you won't." Okay? THEN SHOW ME THEM TALKING PLEASE?!

Which kinda brings me down to the main thing that happened because of the pacing issue. Season 2 of Arcane knew only two extremes in terms of "Show, don't tell". Either it goes full "music video" in whcih indeed it just shows us shit without context or dialogue - or we get the information just via dialogue, in a complete tell.

This also shows in the last episode, with the entire thing of Piltover asking the Zaunites for help, after brutally surpressing them forever. Yeah, I see where they were going with this. About being the bigger people and planting seeds and what not. But frankly, there might have been a time and space for a story like that, if properly told (you know, with giving more of the Zaunites a voice in this story, showing more of the conflict and spacing this plot out over several episodes). But a) it was not properly told, and b) a world in which several genocides happen while Trump somehow won a second term is not that world. Yes, b) is not the fault of anyone working on Arcane. That was simply bad luck on their part. But a) is very much their fault - and even if we did not have a Palestinian Genocide and no second Trump term: Without a) being done properly, it would not have worked. It would have just not felt quite as miserable.

You know, the most frustrating thing about this was, that... While I think that one way or another I would still have hated how the show handles the topic of disability (again, I will write about this during the next few days), I generally might have liked the same plot, if it had been given the needed space to breathe.

Like... Sure, I would have never really been on board with "fascist Caitlyn", or rather with "fascist Caitlyn, who gets then forgiven by everyone". But I could have somewhat swallowed it, if that forgiveness had to be earned. But because of the breakneck speed of this show, it never got earned. I am not even talking about redemption arcs here - those are always a headache - but specifically about the fact that Caitlyn gets instantly forgiven by everyone.

Also, lol. The entire thing with Ekko convincing Jinx to come along off-screen. That was unelegant.

Heck, it feels in the first four episodes, as if there was an arc being set up for Sevika in general. And it feels like that arc needed to happen, given that Sevika ends up on the COUNCIL OF PILTOVER in the epilogue. However, that Arc just does not happen. Then, like... why set it up?

That is general the issue. There is a lot of set-up and very, very little payoff to any of it.

And here is the thing. I have heard people argue about whether or not this was meant to have more seasons. But frankly: I do not think that the writers who wrote season 1 would have written this story this way had they known it would be two seasons.

Mind you, compared to some people I would not rate the writing in season 1 higher than maybe 6 or 7 of 10. It was solid, but not overwhelmingly great. But season 2 in comparison is a 2 of 10, maybe a 3 of 10, if I am being gracious.

And frankly, I do not think any writer, who is in any way worth their salt, would write a story where a main character goes evil, and then do exactly nothing with it. I mean, sorry, us writers, we are a dramatic bunch. And we will not resist the drama being served on a silver platter unless we are forced too. I cannot imagine a single writer, who will go with the end of episode 3 and then not write a bunch of angst with Caitlyn and Vi - unless they were forbidden.

And mind you, CaitVi is by far the ship I am least invested in. But it is simply such a glaring example of where the plot is rushed in a way that it hinders the character arcs.

Oh, and also... Lest. Lest in the first six episodes clearly felt like a character, who was going to play a role. Only to then disappear to not be seen again during the finale. What happened to Lest? Is she dead? Is she alive? I guess we'll never know.

*sighs* I am sorry. I really am. I am just... very disappointed. This has been a mess. And I think it would not have needed to be.

Like, the animation is still the most pretty thing ever made in the world. But man... The plot? The plot sucks balls. And not in the sexy way.

[bengiyo]

Thoughts on Office Relationships, Breakups, Outings, and More in August ‘24 Shows

I couldn’t bring myself to finish Cosmetic Playlover today, so instead I decided to write about three shows doing interesting things with relationships right now. I don’t really have the time or interest in Stray Thoughts anymore, so I hope y’all enjoy this. For the past two weeks I’ve been thinking about the breakups and new relationships in The Trainee and Mr. Mitsuya’s Planned Feeding, and now I’m also thinking about Takara being upfront with Taishin about the state of their relationship on Takara’s Treasure. I want to get some of these thoughts down for posterity. 

The Ba-Mhee and Tae Breakup on The Trainee

I genuinely love that this show followed through on these two splitting up. I also like that Ba-Mhee asked to take the time to figure out what she’s feeling for Judy before doing something else. Ba-Mhee seems to define herself a lot by the relationship she’s in, and it was sad to see her struggling with the way Tae didn’t always respond to her attempts at expressing care and affection–methods which he never asked for. I think the two of them definitely needed to separate, because it’s not going to work if she’s feeling insecure because Tae is working hard in his preferred field.

That being said, I don’t like the thing with Judy because we know so little about Judy. All I really know about Judy right now is that she’s a workaholic with few personal relationships outside of the office, she’s queer, and she is good at handling clients. When she went to see Ba-Mhee after kissing her drunk intern the night before her anniversary at a work event, I wasn’t keen on the way it felt like Judy managed Ba-Mhee in that scene. Judy feels a bit inaccessible as a character right now, and I hope that’s a choice the show is making about how Ba-Mhee’s relationship with Judy is also rather one-sided, and entirely about her. I hope part of Ba-Mhee’s queer journey is recognizing how she seems to define herself by her relationships, and finds an identity independent of romance.

As for Judy… I hope there’s more to her here than just being pretty and good at her job. We’ve been let down twice this year by GL office romance, and I’d like for that to not be a constant trend. I’d like to see them give her nuance in her pursuit of a relationship with one of her reports.

Lastly, I really loved that Tae is trying to figure out how to be single again, and Pah got mad on his behalf. It’s a good compromise in a genre that seems to really not want characters to be  mad at each other for too long, especially when one of them has really hurt another. Tae got to be sad, and someone got to be righteous on his behalf. We even had good storytelling come out of these two using their jobs to punish each other, with it being very clear that these were bad choices. 

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko Betrayed Its Characters

While I’m here, let me just say that the back half of this show was utterly offensive, and actively betrayed its own characters. I cannot believe that Hiroko’s own community was so quick to betray her trust and out her repeatedly. I cannot believe this show abandoned Hiroko’s straight girl problems from the beginning for a message that “It’s not that bad now, so just come out. I cannot believe this show had a Boob Monster lesbian withhold sex from her horny girlfriend for a year so she could “cherish her.” I am baffled by all of the choices that went into this, and I will not be recommending it. It gets a 4 from me. 

Jane’s Ex on The Trainee

I thought it was really interesting to introduce an ex at this point while Ba-Mhee and Ryan are both considering potential relationships with their mentors. There are consequences in a professional field when you date within your field for some folks, and it’s clear that happened with Jane. Nine, the ex, was here to once again benefit from Jane’s talents, and Jane did not seem like he expected to receive any real credit or benefit from that work. I’m curious if the show intends for any resolution for Jane with Nine, or if he’s here as a romantic tool for Ryan.

Speaking of Ryan, he is clearly in his early 20s, because his jealousy spiral exhausted me. Jane was obviously not into that man, and assured Ryan that he would be back later by making sure he and Ryan had plans for later. I hope we get back to Ryan actually being a good supporter when he’s focused and motivated, especially now that we know that Jo was meant to illuminate things about Pah.

Mitsuya’s Breakup with Noguchi on Mr. Mitsuya’s Planned Feeding

One of my favorite things about this age-gap story is that Mitsuya has been out for a long time, and he has a romantic and sexual history. I loved that he’s had an on again-off again relationship that he needed to bring to a close as part of his own story, and I loved how it wasn’t the ugliest of breakups. These two men know each other intimately, and this final break for them turned into a small celebration of what they had between them. Important things got aired, they snipped a little at each other, and they got to enjoy one last meal together in a way that added a gentle finality to the situation.

On Ishida’s end, I absolutely loved that he’s continued to be upright with Mitsuya about his feelings, called their date what it was, and stepped down from his professional role with Mitsuya. On top of that, I actually love that it was Noguchi that gave him the final inspiration he needed to go back to sports and face his own angst there. It’s actually so special for me that a 27 year-old man who felt like he had to give up on his dreams is finding a way to do something with the specific feelings he has about that. 

I’m also never getting over Ishida telling Mitsuya that he wants to be seen as a man and not a cute kid.This, right after introducing Mitsuya to a food he’d never experienced before! We can thank @isaksbestpillow for making this possible, and this feels especially poignant for me right after we said goodbye to Okita Kakeru, who explicitly wanted to be seen as cute. I am really excited about the queer themes that keep coming out of this show, and I’m sure I’ll have more to say.

Takara and Taishin Avoiding Breakup Nonsense on Takara’s Treasure

So often in these shows with small age gaps in school, they never seem to know how to cope with graduation. I finished rewatching You’re My Sky last night, and that show solved it with travel for one couple, and external collaboration for the mains. I loved this show having the older partner ask the junior directly about the challenges of life after graduation for them as a couple. 

This worked so well, because the show has shown us for weeks that Taishin is always paying attention to Takara, and @lurkingshan detailed how many ways Taishin showed that he understood Takara this week, and I appreciated @clownshoessqueaking covering how Takara has managed his restraint across this show. It’s just so rare that we see two characters have the important conversation that needs to be had, and give each other the exact assurances they need. Taishin got to hear directly from Takara about how things were going for them, and was able to say that he wanted the relationship and initiate physical intimacy between them. 

For all that this show has felt really quiet for two months, it’s becoming one of the shows I will likely remember from this year. 

That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!

[jazjelspen]

leaving on wild charted waters [pt.4]

(what if our mc got tired of Night Raven College and all it's inhabitants?)

(what if our beloved mc has...(voluntarily) been helping with decorating for the ball that will be happening in the next few days!?)

(just a “filler” chapter but it's just pure fluff and our mc having a great time with their new RSA friends + fleshing out some RSA students that I may use in future chapters/will get back to angst but as many of you know: our mc needs to be happy!

p.s Neige is actually a nice person in this series, he just doesn’t mean to come off as fake. I just wanted to write a nice version of the character for this!)

(fluff/splash of angst but it's very short)

the ball: part 1

you couldn't be more relaxed. you are currently chilling with your new friends and Rielle on the same shore you stepped your shoes in on your first day here. you all decided that after a long day of studies, activities, and fun ballroom decorating that it'd be a great idea to just relax beside the waters with everyone having each of their favorite snacks and drinks.

you and your friends were quiet since all you could all do was take in the refreshing sea air and the feeling of the breeze kissing your faces, the sound of the water sloshing and splashing also added to the calm ambience of the scene, and of course it wouldn't be complete without the screech of a seagull or the cute chirps of birds. I just can't forget to mention the same beautiful sunset that came upon your first day here also appearing in this exact moment, it really did always take your breath away. 'god, nothing could beat this view' you thought.

you noted how this time when you volunteered to help out with ballroom decorating, that no one actually ever left you on your own or ditched you. everyone did their part, some mishaps here and there, but it wasn't anything none of you could fix. you actually felt as if the work was much less with everyone actively doing their job and not slacking off or disappearing when they have the chance... these guys actually sticked by you and didn't let you down in the slightest. it was as if a splash of the freshest water just hit your face and took off a lot of stains that you had from NRC.

you all reveled in the moment until someone finally spoke up, "today was no joke." your friend, Alex Underlan, spoke in an exasperating tone as he laid with his arms and legs spread as if he's about to make a snow angel in the sand. "it felt as if this day would never end."

the next to speak was Neige Leblanc "we did take awhile to set up the decorations for the ball. thankfully we managed to finish just in time before the setting sun left!" he spoke with a smile as he looked up to see his little blue bird friends sitting comfortably on his hat. "we have to admit we did do a pretty good job on the decorating."

Chenya, an acquaintance from NRC and now very good friends with in RSA, stretched his limbs out in the sand with a loud yawn "beats me, I'm just glad that the hard part is over and we can now nap like kittens!~..."

"I agree with Neige though, we did do a pretty great job with decorating! along with the help of our fellow animal friends too it made the whole thing a bit more hectic yet fun." Rielle chirped in "I do have to admit-- Raps and _____ did an amazing job painting the ceiling and walls for the occasion! it's like those really detailed murals from waaay back then!"

Raps then replied with a bit of a sheepish smile "aww thanks Red, but obviously I wouldn't have been able to get it done in time with my favorite assistant _____ here!--" Raps shook your shoulder gently with the entire group chuckling with each other.

"hey! I'm your only assistant!" you replied with a light giggle "Raps I seriously have no idea how you're not afraid of falling from such a height-- you have immense trust in your hair." you paused " but then again i was hanging onto your hair while painting-- so I actually can tell why you have immense trust in your hair." you all just fell into a fit of laughter together in harmony at the hilarious memory of you freaking out a bit while clinging onto your friend's hair over how high you were to then feeling confident and relaxed while painting the ballroom walls and ceiling with Raps.

after you all calmed down the excitement for the ball started rising in your chest once again "honestly... i'm so excited for the ball. mostly because it's the one ball where I most likely won't have to deal with any people that have underlying personal issues that I have to deal with." you let out an almost happy sigh.

Chenya snickered, knowing well what that referenced to "nahh, no overblots here. don't remember there ever being one since I first came to this rabbit hole." he then closed his eyes as to take a light cat nap.

"me either!" chirped in Neige "but no need to fret or fear, in case an issue does come up we won't ask you to have to take care of it for us. with what you've told us you have seemed to have gone through so much already--" he spoke this next part more lowly " I should've... noticed it back when the VDC event was happening..." Neige sulked a bit but then gave you a small smile "I'm just glad you still came all this way to give RSA a chance _____!.."

"thanks Neige, that's actually... very kind of you to say." you smiled back as one of Neige's little blue birds landed on one of your knees and chirped a small song for you.. how cute and charming. "actually back then at the VDC event I honestly thought you were probably hiding under some super cute and friendly facade but turns out that it's really just you being naturally kind and well... friendly!" almost everyone either choked on their drinks or giggled, basically all collectively agreeing that everyone else thought that too in the beginning of meeting Neige at some point.

Neige paused a bit and looked at you with wide eyes and a genuinely confused smile, processing what you just said as he let out a very confused "huh?--"

"Raps Belleflowe!"

a loud interrupting and snarly voice boomed from behind the group of six, so loud it caused the little birds that rested on you and Neige to fly away! you all simultaneously turned to look at the tall and dark figure with voluminous black curls awaiting for one of you.

Raps sighed in immense disappointment as he packed up any snacks he had out back in his satchel, now looking all gloomy. "well- I'll see you guys tomorrow!.."

Chenya then turned to look his long haired friend with an almost disappointed look too "leaving so soon blondie? not staying over to grab some full grub with us?"

Raps shook his head "ahh...not today guys! maybe next time--" he was about to walk out before he quickly faced the group who all groaned in disappointment together " hey how about to make up for it I treat you all to lunch at school!" everyone still seemed disappointed yet each still gave Raps a thumbs up at his idea.

you all watched him scurry to his father who seemed to be less than pleased, almost scolding him before they both walked seemingly back to the dorms.

"I don't like Raps's dad... always gave me the heebie jeebies, keeps Raps from us outside of school-related stuff, and always gives me low scores on my biochem tests!..." Alex grumbled as he looked up at the sky.

"he is an intimidating individual.. but he seems to be very attentive to Raps and always seems to help him with all the countless hobbies he has!.." Neige tried to seem a bit positive, but he does agree with Alex on the first two things.

"a bit too attentive, I know a helicopter dad when I see one." Rielle huffed before he yawned. "well let's get a meal before we all head our separate ways and sleep like sleeping beauty."

Chenya and Alex both seemed to agree very much with this idea with how quickly they both to stood up in a weirdly comedic way.

you chuckled at this "guess we don't have to tell you two twice."

Alex laughed at your comment "you really don't!"

while the other three got up Neige gently tapped on your shoulder before you got up as well. "hey _____! if you don't mind-- could we take a photo together for my Magicam? I've posted photos with everyone except you, and I wouldn't want to leave you out!" he gave you these puppy dog eyes as he asked, you couldn't help but chuckle at this and nod.

"of course Neige, I'd love to be in your Magicam." you spoke before a bright smile grew on his face and you both set up a pose together in front of his phone's camera.

"1...2..!" and right when he was about to say three he clicked on the camera button and now he has a memory of you two! he looked over the photo "look at us! we look great!"

you nodded in agreement, genuienly impressed with how good you two looked "huh!.. we really do don't we!"

you both giggled together before a loud and sharp 'ahem!' interrupted you both. both pairs of eyes looked up to see all three of your standing friends waiting for you.

Chenya groaned "let's get going slow pokes! Im starting to mistake Alex's stomach growls to that of a lion's roar." the cat tittered before Alex gasped and punched him on the arm, not hard enough to actually hurt him.

"no they do not! fleabag.." Alex sneered.

"awwe! that hurt, blondie #2..." whined the cat.

the rest of you three lightly laughed at the scene before you as Neige and yourself got up together. once the two wrapped up their play fight you all as a group started walking to the nearest shop for a quick meal.

guess you didn't realize that with Neige posting the picture of you two later on in the day that it'd rise hell onto the campus of Night Raven College-- unbeknownst to all of you.

(really short compared to other parts but next chapter will be when the actual ball will happen and all the silly funzies stuff too. as mentioned once again this chapter and the next are basically just fluff and "filler" and to flesh out most of mc's new friends +adding sprinkles and splashes of angst here and there to at least keep it interesting!)

[genericpuff]

I don't know the term for creators who became popular outside the traditional steps to "make it" in their profession; then when people started taking their work seriously and giving them criticism, these creators saw it as an attack because they are not used to mentors and studies.

Smythe's professional training is vague at best, being a folklorist. Then there's the creator of the popular hell cartoon that became her own executive producer and director in her 20s (I'm not going to say her name since it tends to attract her rabid fans) and becomes reactive to any kind of criticism on Twitter. Then there's that TikToker Devon Rodriguez, who became popular for sketching people on subways, and when an art critic gave a mild review to his art gallery, Devon unleashed his fans on him.

Like am I seeing a pattern here for artists? And I guess, what do you think we can learn from it.

Ah, so this is a very interesting (and broad) topic that we've touched on in discussions in ULO and other webtoon-related communities. So buckle up, it's time for an ✨essay✨

I think the best way I can sum up my thoughts on this issue is: the vast majority of people who become paid content creators don't seek out a job as content creators, a job in content creation is just something that happens to them.

I say "content creation" because this is something that applies to a lot of other platforms and online mediums as well, such as the examples you included (TikTok, Youtube, Twitch, etc.). And don't get me wrong, it's not like every successful content creator out there didn't work their asses off to get to where they are, but for many... it still involves an element of luck. People don't go to school for it, people don't "apply" to become influencers, and much of it relies entirely on just making stuff until it gets seen and propelled into success.

I think a lot of these issues arise with the creators themselves and how they view their own work. The reality is that many of us artists have been treated as the "rejects" of society, we constantly feel like we're misunderstood and have some deep inner pain that we express through our art, and instead of going to therapy, we come up with OC's. It's a lot more fun and it's a lot cheaper LOL Webcomics naturally wind up being the perfect lightning rod for people who feel that way, where we can pour ourselves into the characters, the world, the narrative, in a way that perfectly mixes our talents for art and our need to express our innermost thoughts and feelings about ourselves and the world around us. So when our art gets criticized or rejected ... it can be hard for a lot of artists to not feel like it's a criticism of the self, a rejection of our identities, an attack on our feelings and experiences, because we've tied so much of ourselves to our work. And this can make that transition very difficult for people who are trying to go pro, because being professional demands separating yourself from your work, at least enough that you can view it objectively, recognize its flaws, seek out pathways to improvement, and not take every bump in the road personally.

A lot of successful creators are people who just never made that transition. It's led to an abundance of professional creators who know how to film themselves or react to content or, in the case of webcomic artists, write stories about their OC's, but don't know how to actually navigate the industry at a professional level. They don't know how to read and negotiate contracts, they don't know what deals are actually good for them and which ones are better left on the table, they don't know how to manage teams of people, they don't know how to react to the attention, praise, and criticism of their audience - they're just doing what they've always done, but now they're making money doing it.

None of this is to speak ill in any way of the creators who've found success and are still just doing what they've always done for money. None of this is meant to be a slight on the creators who are using webcomics and art as an expression of their deeper selves (I do it myself, it's very cathartic!) because ultimately that's what makes your work your work, the fact that you made it, with all your good parts and bad. Many of these creators are capable of running their platform without any issues because they've learned how to play the game, or because their platform is made up of people just like them so their audience is more like just a social circle.

But many of them still also can't operate on a professional level and those are the ones we often see getting called out and held accountable when they do shit like, I dunno, scamming their audiences for money or making alt accounts to manipulate user reviews or plagiarizing from other people's work or just being really REALLY shitty to their own audience.

Often times these are people who are just doing what they'd normally do as a hobby, became well known for it, and managed to turn it into a living. But they never actually learned how to turn their hobby into a job, and themselves into professionals.

And artists especially are prone to this because, let's face it, a lot of us are just weebs having fun drawing our blorbos, so of course if we get a chance to monetize that, we're gonna! We should! We should want to be paid for our work and time and efforts!

But we also have to remember that it's a different ballgame, especially if you're turning your audience into customers. "I'm just a baby creator doing this for fun" doesn't and shouldn't apply anymore once you start signing contracts, selling your art as products, taking people's money to fund your projects, etc. because now it's not just your art, it's what you're expecting people to pay for so you can eat and pay your bills and live.

As much as our art is often personal and should be cherished as such, you can't expect people to want to pay for it if you're not setting a bar and meeting it, or if you're not treating your audience with any amount of dignity or respect.

I'm not saying you're not entitled to having feelings or still wanting to treat your art as art, but the line between art and products is there for a reason, it's to set people's expectations and ensure that both sides are having those expectations met. Webtoon creators suffer from the same thing that a lot of Youtube creators and other types of content creators suffer from in this transition, and I feel like HBomberGuy summed it up best:

"In current discourse, Youtubers simultaneously present as the forefront of a new medium, creative voices that need to be taken seriously as part of the 'next generation of media' - and also uwu smol beans little babies who shouldn't be taken seriously when they rip someone off and make tens of thousands of dollars doing it."

It's not gatekeeping a medium, it's not telling people they aren't allowed to have feelings or to want to still have that personal connection to their work in spite of the professional level it's achieved, it's simply just expecting people to actually live up to the label of 'professional' that they're using to make money.

And this especially goes for someone like Rachel, who claims to be a 'folklorist' despite all the contrary evidence that says otherwise. This is the same person who copy pasted the first result on Google as her source on a simple word definition:

There's a second part to that HBomberGuy quote that also actually applies to Rachel really well in this discussion, concerning how she labels herself a "folklorist" and how that's affected and influenced the greater discussion surrounding Greek myth:

"But on the opposite end, Youtubers who act like serious documentarians gain a shroud of professionalism which then masks the deeply unprofessional things they do. We just saw that with James. I think [James] partially got away with what he's doing for so long because he acts so professional about it, so people assume, 'there's no way he could just be stealing shit!' so they don't check. And on top of that, a lot of James' videos contain obvious mistakes and made-up facts... but because they're often presented next to well-researched stuff he stole, no one questions it. I've seen James repeat a lie in his videos, and then other people claim it's true, and link his video as the proof. He has helped to solidify misinformation by seeming like he's doing his diligence."

There's always going to be discourse over what's legitimate and what isn't when it comes to Greek myth, there are loads of things we still don't know simply due to the knowledge being lost to time. But there's something to be said about a white New Zealand woman using her self-insert romance comic and platform to build a veneer of professionalism and legitimacy around herself, as if she's the authority on the subject, while simultaneously relying on first result Google searches and citing works that have no real foothold in the way of scholarly or "folklorist" discussion.

All that's to say, you're right, her professional training is vague at best. She's never completed a longform comic prior to LO, she's not doing her due diligence in actually engaging with the media she's trying to "retell" and exposing herself to the voices of those from the culture that's tied to it, and she's not holding herself to any sort of standards when it comes not only to being a professional, but a professional who's been held on a pedestal for all these years. She's still operating the same way she was 5 years ago - drawing and writing whatever pops into her head and sending it to her editor for uploading, with next to no intervention or guidance. Except now it doesn't have the benefit of being new and having "potential", it's getting noticed and called out more now than ever because it's been 5 years of this shit and it's been getting worse on account of her clearly being burnt out (or just giving up/not caring) and the readers can't be sold on "potential" anymore.

And that's all I have to say on that.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #61 – Those Across The River by Christopher Buehlman

Months and months ago, I asked for recommendations on books that actually tried to make werewolves horrifying instead of just some variety of urban fantasy or romance archetype. Those Across The River was one of the few real recommendations I got, and then spent most of the year languishing on my To-read shelf until I had entirely forgotten why it was there. It does very much fit the requirements asked of it, and in concept is really quite a juicy idea. Unfortunately, it’s rather let down b execution here – both in terms of prose and of content.

Frank Nichols is a historian – or was one, anyway. After an affair with a college's wife named Eudora becomes public and he responds by running away with her, his career prospects take something of a swan dive. And in the midst of the Great Depression, there are far more wannabe academics than there are jobs for them. So, after living for a time with his brother in Chicago, the two of them move down south to take up residence in the small southern town his mother fled as soon as she was able, where Dora might at least draw a salary as a school teacher. And, more importantly, where Frank can research his great-grandfather, a confederate planter killed by his own slaves in the last days of the Civil War whose ruined plantation lies somewhere nearby, to write the biography that will restart his career.

Times are tough there too, and soon after the pair of them move in there is a town meeting where it’s agreed to end the monthly tradition of driving a pair of hogs across the river to thank God for their good fortune. While God doesn’t seem to mind much one way or the other, the creatures living in the woods who had made feasts of those pigs certainly do, and on the next full moon raid the outskirts of the town to make their displeasure known. From there, things just about only get worse.

So as mentioned, this is the vanishingly rare sort of story made in the last couple of decades that take ssomething recognizable as werewolves and actually tries to play them straight as something awful, threatening, and horrifying. I think this mostly works – there’s only a scene or two I’d really call horrifying, but then with books that’s an incredibly high bar for me. It manages the tone and atmosphere of a proper horror story throughout, and never lets the werewolves stop being strange an dangerous.

A large part of this is, I’m sure, just the fact that no one in the story is even the tiniest bit genre-savvy or awae of what a ‘werewolf’ is, as a cultural figure. Beyond providing the isolation and lack of outside forces that might help, the period setting does an incredible amount of work in just making it plausible that no one in the story was aware of what kind of story they were in. This is actually probably the first straightforward monster horror story I’ve read or seen in a while that wasn’t in some way trying to comment or make cute references to the wider genre.

The period setting is, werewolves aside, easily the most engaging thing about the book. Less so for the particulars of the world than the character of Frank. The entire book is spent in his head, marinating in his internal monologue, and it’s a wonderfully strange and uncanny place – the story makes a liberal college professors from New England in the 1930s seem more genuinely alien (and often repulsive) than most genre fiction manages to make feudal aristocrats or cybernetic oligarchs.

The prose is interesting. Often good, but just as often reading like someone’s very self-conscious pastiche of mid-20th century ‘Great American Novel’ writing. Which I think is intentional, but does begin to wear on you – there’s only so many times you can read a guy say ‘how like a sphinx!’ when describing his fiancee before it grates. The exception here is Frank’s traumatic nightmares of his time fighting WW1 in France, which I reliably found quite evocative and striking.

The book’s politics are, well, bad, but in an absolutely fascinating sort of way. Better to say that the book is torn between the themes and politics it wants to have, and the mixture of genre requirements and I guess an author and editor who didn’t care much about subtext that leave it sending too drastically different messages. It’s probably one of the most interesting things about the book.

On the explicit, textual level, the book is very conscious of all the petty cruelty and flagrant brutality that went into maintaining the Jim Crow South, and views e.g. the way Frank calls it ‘the States War’ with jaundiced irony. There are passages talking explicitly about the injustice of sharecropping, and the vulgar racism of all the townspeople is presented as one more reason to view most of them with contempt. And of course the supernatural evil driving the whole story is the bloody legacy left behind by a confederate slaveowner who hunted and consumed human flesh wearing the skin of a beast, whose shadow looms large over the entire story. The book is generally very clear that ‘racism = bad’.

And yet-

This is also a story where functionally every black character is an inhuman, man-sexually predatory, man-eating beast in human skin (there is exactly one ‘good’ werewolf, he’s a yankee), where the indigent drifters walking through town begging for work really were sinister malefactors mapping things out to return with their friends latter, where the protagonist’s fiancee having dubiously consensual sex with a black man is very much presented as part of her own transformation into an insatiable, uncontrollable, literally babe-eating werewolf herself.

Horror has a reputation for being a reactionary genre by default, which this book feels like a decent argument towards. More, it was published in 2010, and I might owe that whole decade of pop-media critique being elevated to spectator sport that it’s genuinely hard to find stuff quite this unselfaware getting published these days.

A very fitting Halloween read I suppose, in the same way watching an ‘80s slasher is.

[muse-matrix]

So... It's been a while since I last logged in here. Longer still since I properly did... much of anything here, outside of a few scattered posts. Part of me had been kinda dreading coming back here but looking at when my activity really dramatically dropped off, I think I understand what happened.

So, way back in february of last year, I was bouncing between a lot of things. I was running around doing a bunch of stuff to try and secure a new job, and I did manage that- A big component of my not being here was just me adjusting to having to work again, after being unemployed for almost an entire year. It was tough to get the right structure going, but I managed it. And despite starting college just a couple weeks ago, I've mostly managed that too so far, I think.

But that isn't... the main reason why. Probably. I think.

You see, what else happened in february, was that I got booted from a community I'd been a part of for years. It encompassed my involvement in a card game I loved, as well as the FF14 free company I'd been part of at the time. Someone who was, at one time, a good friend of mine misinterpreted something, and was so incensed by it, they took some things I said out of context and absolutely slandered me to the mod team of that community. (Yes, it actually is as bad as it sounds. I checked.) As a result, I was privately labeled some pretty nasty things, and shunted from their discord server without so much as a word. None of them would speak to me, none of them would even give me a chance to tell my side of things.

Obviously, that stung. A lot.

It had me pretty dejected about a lot of stuff, for a really long time. Probably why I mostly got off of here- I retreated to a different blog where there was less pressure (self-imposed) and more freedom for me to just, kinda, do whatever I wanted without fear or worry. I needed space and freedom to move myself around how I wanted for a while. And then that led to me feeling bad about not coming back here, which made me put off coming back here even longer... You see where this goes.

But at this point, it's been a year and a half. I'm pretty much over that fiasco, I haven't spoken to any of those people since, and they've evidently been content to leave it alone too, given I haven't had any mobs of angry pitchfork-wielding card game players coming after me.

And recently, Kako came back! She's RPing again and that's fun to see. I know a lot of you I've still been in contact with regardless, her included, so most of you probably are already aware of a lot of this stuff, but writing all this out is part of my process, so bear with it. The important thing is, after a lot of time and thinking about things, and seeing friends return to RPing and watching things happen from afar... God, do I want to get back into it with you all.

I very likely still won't be super active, but I'm going to at least try to be consistent. This is supposed to be my main, after all. I'll probably take the next week or so to clean up the muse list, cut a bunch of stuff, get a bit more focused and the like. Not that I'll actually stop playing any given muse- I'm wont to flip-flop between characters I enjoy, and I'm loathe to let fun interactions pass me by just because a character 'isn't on my muse list', but I ought to give myself a bit of structure, at least.

So... I'll try to be here every day, at least. Even if it's just to check in. This'll be a fresh start for me, I'd say, not that any of my old lore or whatever is getting abandoned. It's just... It's been a long time. It'll take some easing back into things for me, so I'm not even going to worry about whatever asks have been left to rot in my inbox, stuff like that.

Given it's been such a long time, some of you may... have blogs that I'm not currently following, cause I've missed them or what have you. So uh, if that's the case, please shoot me a message so I can correct that.

[idrellegames]

As an IF author that does this with a "this is my job" mindset I find it hard to do other things in my day to day because whenever I pick up my phone I feel like I am at work and I feel like I constantly think about my story.

Do you have any tips or advice on how to separate myself from my work and stop thinking about it 24/7?

Thank you!

Having a clear division between work and regular life is really important. I think it can be a little harder to do if developing an IF isn't your full-time gig. If you're working a job or are in school and you're packing IF development on top of it, then it can get really tricky to balance.

I also think that if you're working on a large, long-term project, it's a good and normal part of the writing process to think a lot about your story. Not all writing is done when you are actively writing. Daydreaming about your characters and your story lets you work out different kinks and make new discoveries.

So, you have a couple of choices here. You can reframe IF as your hobby, the thing you do in your free time for fun. Take away the pressure of thinking about it like work. You can pick away at it when the mood strikes, write on your own terms, and if you stop having fun with it, it's okay to slam on the breaks and put it aside until you're ready to come back to it.

But if you want to continue treating it as work or if it is already is your job, then you need to set some boundaries for yourself. This is going to be different for everyone; what works for me might not necessarily work for you. But here are a few things you can try:

Set a schedule. Try to contain the times when you are actively working on your project to within certain regular hours. Set different times for different parts of your job. For example, I only do social media management (tumblr inbox and notifications, Patreon, email, itch etc) during the first couple hours of my morning and then the rest of my work day is for writing and/or coding. I don't get through everything, but it's okay. It's really important for online creators not to fall into the trap of feeling like they have to answer everyone immediately, otherwise you will not get anything done.

If you manage social media for your IF, have separate accounts for your personal stuff and work stuff. I have two tumblr accounts, one that manages this sideblog and the other for personal fandom things. Logging out of my work account and into my personal one means that I'm not seeing notifications from this blog and I'm not tracking Wayfarer stuff. It really helps me keep work as work and downtime as downtime.

Separate your work and downtime spaces. Sometimes it's just as simple as working in one room and relaxing in another. This can be a bit tricky if you only have one device that you work from. I have a PC so I can't move it around, so if I'm using it to game later I try to change up my space (by getting a different chair or changing something else about my set up) so I have some kind of physical difference to trick my brain into going from "work mode" to "relax mode". Sometimes I have to get out of my office entirely in order to get that sense of separation, otherwise I feel like I am constantly at work.

If you're on your phone a lot and you don't really use it to make your IF or have alternatives for writing, get rid of the apps that put you in a work headspace. I got rid of the tumblr mobile app a couple years ago and it was probably the best decision in terms of actually keeping me out of work mode.

Take time off. Give yourself a weekend. Pursue other hobbies, play other games, write things other than your IF. IFs take a very long time to make, you can't go at it 24/7 or you will burn out.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #369

For the first time in a while, I actually managed to get about 8 consecutive hours of sleep last night. And I gotta say, it felt pretty fucking great!

...Now all I have to do is keep doing that every night for the next couple weeks so that my brain can actually heal from the sleep-deprivation-induced stress that I put it under, haha...

...Sigh. Ah well.

I woke up this morning to a text from my boss, Ka, asking if I could come in to work today. I wanted to say yes, but... I also knew that if I went in, I'd be denying myself a desperately-needed chance to rest (and to get some laundry and dishes done, sheesh...), so I had to tell her no for today. I am going to go to work on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday of this upcoming week, though! For Monday and Tuesday, I'll be on for 6 whole hours, with breaks in between so I can go to the dentist on Monday and to physical therapy on Tuesday. It's gonna be a weird next few days, it seems. But that's all right; more hours for me means more money saved up for the educational credentials evaluation, which... we still gotta get done. Sheesh.

I did do laundry, so now both of my work shirts and my work pants are nice and clean. I did dishes, too, which was also good; the sink is mostly clear, and that always feels nice (it'll be full again soon enough, but that just means we have food to eat). I even managed to eat two whole times today!! Lately, I eat only once since these braces kinda make eating into kind of an annoying process; I have to thoroughly scrub the inside of my face every time before popping my braces back in, and some of my dentin was exposed a little, due to the way a couple of my teeth moved. But I've been using this weird toothpaste, which uses apatite instead of fluoride. Apatite is supposedly a better material to use than fluoride, since it both helps reduce sensitivity and protects enamel. Over time, I've noticed a lot less pain in the usual spots, since using it, so that's pretty rad, I guess.

...It also doesn't burn the inside of my mouth like holy hell, the way the Sensodyne stuff I've been using does.

...Seriously, why in fuck did almost all of the makers of adult toothpaste decide that it has to be pain-flavored??? Like... children's toothpaste gets awesome flavors like grape, watermelon, strawberry, and bubblegum, and they taste great and they don't hurt the inside of my mouth to use! But children's toothpaste doesn't have enough of the protective ingredient to do its job for adult teeth, so I have to use adult toothpaste (well... Hello makes a good children's toothpaste that is suitable for adult use, but it does nothing about exposed dentin...). Adult toothpaste is usually either mint or cinnamon flavored, and both of these flavors make the inside of my mouth feel like it's burning. It's really very terrible.

I was using the Sensodyne anyway though, even though it's made only for adults (and is definitely pain-flavored, oh my goodness), because the pain from toothbrush contact with dentin is many orders of magnitude worse than the burning sensation that comes from using the Sensodyne toothpaste.

...I wonder if your world has better toothpaste flavors. You'll have to tell me about it sometime.

Anyway, this new apatite toothpaste not only doesn't hurt to use, but also it does a better job, and less of it is needed to get my teeth clean. And I'm pretty sure it's re-mineralizing my exposed dentin, too, because I can suck in cold air without those three upper right teeth hurting now. So I'm probably going to stick with this kind for the foreseeable future.

I had leftover Indian food and tea for breakfast – goat korma, and lavender bergamot tea, with honey and... yes, more mascarpone cheese, hahaha...

I had intended to play the game that An from work suggested, but... I got entirely sucked up into leisure writing today. I'm not sad about it; it was fun, wholesome and probably entirely necessary. Still, given my work schedule this week, it's probably going to be some time before I get a chance to actually sit down with a video game. Oh well.

Later, after J come home, he and M and I finally played a board game called Betrayal Legacy. It's basically exactly like this other cool game called Betrayal at House on the Hill. Both of these games involve exploring a haunted house, and the closer one gets to finishing exploring the house, the more likely a haunting is to occur. When the haunting occurs, one player is chosen at random to antagonize the other players. And so either the other players team up to win against the antagonizer, or the antagonizer succeeds in their nefarious plot and wins. The difference between them is that, in the legacy version, the results of the games permanently impact the next games played. Though it's too early, for now, to say exactly how.

In this game, I played as a young, teddy-bear-carrying girl named Emmi. While exploring the house, Emmi managed to find a flintlock pistol. Then she found a Chalice of Insanity. The Chalice of Insanity informed us that there was a witch among us; we were given cards to determine which of us it was. Rules were specified for how the witch was supposed to behave and how the other players were supposed to behave. The game then stipulated that we cannot reveal our cards to each other, and that we will lose sanity for each round we do not attack another player. If a player loses all their sanity, then that player dies.

Well. I managed to come out on top, probably because the flintlock gave me an incredible advantage. Plot twist: there was no witch. Our enemy was the house, or maybe even the game itself, that turned us all against one another.

...The house kind of reminds me of Jenova.

…

...I didn't like winning this game. I will remember for future games that my enemy is the house, and try to play accordingly. Because I can learn from my mistakes.

Hey, Sephiroth. You can learn from your mistakes, too. And you can do an even better job of that than I can, since you're so much smarter than me and everything.

Well. I had another plate full of snacks for this game. They were quite nice:

I'm maybe a little bit nervous about tomorrow, since I'm going to have... just... so much stuff to do, oh my goodness. I'm going to have so much stuff to do for like the next three days. Most of it will be fun stuff, for sure, but still... I guess I kinda... want some time to myself that doesn't involve... like... writing or creating or trying to improve one skill or another...

I realize that even when I'm “resting” like with leisure writing... leisure writing is still technically productive time. Because I'm normally using it to either improve my ability to express care, working through my own emotions and psyche, or trying to reconnect with what I care most about. It's restorative in some ways, but... I'm not sure it technically counts as “rest”. Not even playing Hades, I think, counts as rest, because I'm probably a bit too preoccupied with deliberately trying to improve my skills. Hm.

...It occurs to me that I'm not really sure how to exist without putting some kind of pressure on myself. Even when I'm sitting and not doing things, my brain is usually screaming at me to stop wasting time. I... should probably fix that, because... knowing myself, I'm pretty sure that even if I were to deliberately try to exist without putting pressure on myself, I'd probably end up putting pressure on myself to not put pressure on myself. If you've been reading my letters up until this point, I'm sure that will come as absolutely no surprise to you whatsoever. Please excuse me as I roll my eyes so hard at myself that my eyes might quite literally be in danger of rolling right out of my damn skull. Sigh...

Well. I should probably stop writing. I don't really want to because writing to you is enjoyable, but... I do have to wake up in less than 8 hours, which... isn't exactly ideal. Whoops.

Hey. I love you a whole lot. So please do your best to be nice to yourself and to keep yourself safe, okay? I'm counting on you to return to us alive.

I'll write again tomorrow. Make good choices in the meantime, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

[yuseirra]

vagueposting about onk 163~~~~ no real spoilers about the content!!! but I'll keep it under a read more still

good news is, I will still be able to draw hikaai till next week, I survived yet another week again~

If the rest of the remaining chapters are like this, they will never be able to handle the themes this work handles in good depth. There simply isn't enough space left, 4 chapters were the boundary/margin for me to imagine things could be wrapped up in a somewhat sufficient manner, this work tackles things that are quite serious and big and deserve good room for discussion-

It can't do that this way. Moreover, the direction of the writing feels so off to me. I don't agree with what it's trying to make of or convince me of... I'm too distracted of what's been happening in the other parts of the plot to resonate with it. I didn't come here to see Aqua trying to strangle his dad and...feel nothing much over it. It doesn't click to me as what's right, but maybe I read the work wrong, then it's on me... but I really didn't like seeing that scene!! It was terrifying and cruel!! and ugly!!! I don't like seeing people trying to kill each other and weren't they BOTH the victims in that case? Didn't they both care deeply for Ai and got traumatized because of it? Why did they end up trying to hurt each other like that? I felt there's some greater evil behind it all never being tackled at, blaming and killing one individual over it(and he REALLY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING YET!!!) is such a convenient and easy way out as well as it being...unable to resolve anything, wasn't Kamiki really right about that? Killing someone as helpless as he is wouldn't solve anything? He didn't say anything so wrong!!! I actually agree with him on that one.

I think it'd be better/best if they devote everything that's left to Ruby and Aqua in this case and just leave AI and her bf be and don't touch them at all if they're going to handle things like this...it's not going to work out.

I'd rather they do a deliberate, amazing job with two characters with depths than do mediocre-janky with many... I would have had my faith if there were like 8 remaining chapters but with only 3 now, no, it's impossible, the writers are such capable people and they can make wonders, I appreciate what they do and have done but I don't see it happening. In that case, I rather they just leave things be, then at least there'd be some room for me to try and make sense out of what's there than having something half-baked and unfulfilling as a resolution. They can still make Aqua and Ruby work, but with more characters being thrown into the picture? Oh..; If they were ever going to bring Ai and Hikaru in depth they need at least two at a minimum, but there is no way they'd have enough chapter space left to give them a proper chance

Ah, I can live another week to draw more hikaai UGH, UGHH.. I guess I am relieved to an extent since yet again, nothing important has been brought forth, nothing is explained, there wasn't ANYTHING new, if they're going to make the rest of the chapters like this one too, then I never thought I could say this but I feel I can write that ship better. They gave us a really good ingredient to cook with, so I can cook out a good meal, now what I want is for the ingredients to.. remain fresh or at least at a status quo. These characters deserve to be given a more.. proper discussion and space dedicated to them, I just don't see why the writers wouldn't choose to do it because it'd be wonderful if they did...

If things stay the way they are, I can still manage, I can still draw lots of fanarts! If it gets worse than this, then I'd have a hard time, if somehow, like a miracle, something really great can happen about them(I'm still not letting this hope go entirely because Ai is such an iconic character) it'd be great!

Not..a bad chapter but to have this be the one that takes up an entire chapter when there are only like 4 left...I felt so unimpressed... could have been okay as a standalone but even still, I don't agree with the sentiment it's trying to convince me of. Yes Aqua, you are a fool. A big dummy. Now go back to Ruby and live. This manga will definitely flunk if you die. I'm not worried about your life's sake at all because you're the main character and you won't die. You go and live a happy life pal, you can do it, go confess to Kana too because god you've been holding out so long with that and it's going to get stale

Your dad doesn't have the luxury to have even his story discussed adequately and I'm concerned about him, I would never make that choice as a writer, so I want to believe the two really good creators responsible for this to do it but there seriously isn't any space left for that to be a reality, if they're going to not handle it with care, then I rather they just leave it be as it is. I just don't see it being left as it is either but... that might be better for his sake, oh, they're not giving him and Ai justice rn. They should, but there's just too little space left. In that case, they should prioritize wrapping Ruby and Aqua's story at least.

[princesscolumbia]

And now for something different from my usual!

Normally, I write some variety of fanfiction, and I'm 100% proud of nearly everything I've ever written. (Yes, even THAT one.) If I could, without any sort of IP complications, write just for fanfic I'd streamline my process and chunk out words for fanfics all day long, get a book contract, and quit my day job. In a friggin' heartbeat.

Unfortunately, fanfic has all sorts of complications if you want to make a living as an author. This, unfortunately, results in fanfic authors either quitting because the whole thing is a time sink and they have a life a job and things to get done, or they become "grown up" authors with a publishing deal and (in many cases) wind up deleting their fanworks in bulk "because they're Srs Riters™️now!"

When I wrapped up My Empire of Dirt, I took a look at the finished product and said, "...you know, I think I might just be good at this writing thing." But I had in my head the little monster that wasn't quite Imposter Syndrome (more like an ugly cousin of Imposter Syndrome) that said that no matter how good I was, nobody would ever like what I wrote, especially if it was original work.

(This was my stepmother's horrible, abusive language that she hammered into me viciously during my teenage years. Knowing the source helps, but it's still something I have to work to overcome on occasion.)

I had some ideas that I started jotting down (and yes, they're still on the 'to write' pile), but nothing really 'clicked' as a, "OMG, I've got to write this thing!"

Then I read Trouble with Horns. And I needed more, so I read Witch of Chains...and Illegal Alien in an MMO World, and Lieforged Gale, and Digital Galaxies, and Esmie the Calamity, and Coven's Rebellion, and Digital Exodus. And even as early as Witch of Chains I knew I had a story to tell that the setting of a post-WW3 Earth in the middle of The Singularity would let me tell it in.

And I realized...wait, this is it! This is my "training wheels" for writing original fics! Because QuietValerie won't do collabs with other authors anymore (long story involving the Kammiverse and RoyalRoad), but does let people play in her sandbox with carte blanch (and, best of all, no lawyers involved), I can write a fic that's got only a few connection points to Troubleverse to prop it up and draw an audience, and if AuthorBun ever disavows Code of Ethics entirely, it'll take some work but I'll be able to de-couple it entirely! It's, from the outset, 95% original work. If I have to re-jigger that last 5%...well, published authors often have to rework a LOT more of their original works than that, so...let's do this!

And it's worked for me! ALL the hesitance I used to have for writing original fics is gone. I've created interesting, dynamic characters, built out entire story worlds, constructed a complex and interwoven plot that has my readers guessing and thirsty for clues, and the only reason I haven't finished is because there's just so much story to tell!

So for this November (and no, I'm not digging into the whole NaNoWriMo corporate BS right now), I decided to take an idea that, just like Code of Ethics, seized me by the throat and said, "This story is one that needs to be told and you're the only one who can."

George lives in a world that feels gray. In spite of superheroes based in the city he lives in with his mom, the clubs he's in at school, and the handful of friends he's managed to pick up, at ripe old age of 15 years old he feels disconnected from it all. Then one day a Quantum Storm hits. These storms are how superheroes (and villains) get their powers, and George is right in the middle of it, suddenly granting him super powers…along with a brand new GIRL body! Fortunately for HER, she stumbles onto a mentor at the same time. …that all happened six months ago. Now she's in a hospital on the West coast, super-cuffed to a bed, and about to answer for her crimes…including murder. How did this happen?!

Preview, as always, below the cut:

Georgie woke up.

She was somewhat surprised to discover that she was even alive, let alone awake. After what she’d done, she was surprised that anyone had let her live at all.

After what she’d done, she probably deserved it.

It wasn’t fair, of course. It never was, but complaining about whether life was fair or not only led down the path of the supervillain, heroes accepted that life wasn’t fair and participated in the Sisyphean task of making it more fair.

She’d learned the word ‘Sisyphean’ in English class a few weeks ago. She’d never quite understood why the former-hero-turned-villain Sisyphus had gone black-cape until recently, nor had she understood how his chosen name connected to the work he had been doing. Now that she had some experience being a superhero, she thought she understood better than anyone not blessed with superpowers could.

No matter what good you did, at some point it all came crashing down.

She looked around a bit, noticing the room she was in was dark, but there was a counter with a sink across from her, a lightbox mounted to the wall, a television mounted to the ceiling, and some translucent curtains over some windows showing it was about mid-afternoon…wherever she was. What little she could make out of the landscape through the curtains didn’t look anything like the city she lived in. I was running for a long time, she mused, And for me that’s saying something.

She turned her attention back to the room and noted there was an I.V. pole next to the bed she was in and a tube snaking down to what she presumed was the pinching sensation in the back of her hand. She couldn’t follow the tube all the way down to look at her hand, not yet. Had anyone else been in her spot, they might have been overjoyed to be alive after what she’d been through. Not her, though.

For her, there was a fate worse than death, and she wasn’t ready to face that yet.

On the other side of the bed was what appeared to be a heartrate monitor, but she was no expert on medical equipment. The bit that was supposed to be showing the two-peak bumping line that represented a human heartbeat was an almost solid bar of white, though the flickering of the screen told her that it was desperately trying to record a heartrate that was far faster than the machine was capable of registering.

There was no getting around it, she was in a hospital room, and a fairly high-end one, if she could rely on what she’d seen of such things on TV as an indication.

As for the part that came next, well, she had to muster her courage…and after everything she’d been through, ‘courage’ was a word she wasn’t sure she had any claim to.

It was surprisingly hard, knowing what was coming and knowing she had to face it. Just a little longer, a voice was whispering in the back of her mind, Just let yourself imagine nothing has changed just a little bit longer, it’s not like you’re not going to find out soon enough anyway.

Available exclusively to my supporters on Patreon.

[causenessus]

fic authors self rec! ♡ when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love ♡

I WAS GONNA SAVE THIS TOMORROW BUT I KEEP SEEING OTHERS AND IT'S REALLY REALLY MOTIVATING ME <33 (although i don't think i have five other moots to send this to bc idk who else has done it or had it sent to them...)

HAVE I EVEN WRITTEN FIVE THINGS?? I DEF DO NOT POST A LOT OF ONESHOTS 😭

love notes | suna rintarou

OBVIOUSLY MY NUMBER ONE!!! the premise of the smau is so so important to me <3 i love art so much and graffiti just feels so in character for suna?? and he's such a loverboy?? and the photography plot has just really opened my eyes to the amount of time and effort that goes into the profession!!! oh my god i always think about all the lyrics i picked out <3 and just suna and yn dancing around their problems but still flirting with each other some of my fav chapters definitely have to be chapter 3 and 9 (i have been this 🤏 close to reblogging chapter 9 and just saying paragraph 8 like a thousand times. i wrote that entire little excerpt on a tramway in nyc on the way to roosevelt island) <3 my life while i was writing love notes was really nice and this smau is just so so important to me and i was so happy that others also enjoyed it omg i need to stop yapping <3

try again | sakusa kiyoomi

one of my favorites bc it's basically a self insert 😭😭 it's honestly helped me realize so much about myself and is such a comfort fic for me!! i've read a few fics that seem to capture this feeling of like looking back on a time long ago, which is sort of like fond nostalgia? sort of like if you were married and think back to how you married your spouse, or sitting on a rooftop with your best friend and thinking about how you guys were in your younger days if that makes sense. i love that feeling of it being like your reading a story that happened some time ago, and isn't happening currently, and that's what try again feels like to me. the therapist-client dynamic and messy characters is so important to me, AND U GUYS HAVE NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF SELF INDULGENCE TRAUMA DUMP IS COMING SOON <3 (sorry this sounds so aggressive omg)

see you at the altar | suna rintarou

one of my fav fav drabbles!! it was so sweet and once again just suna being a lover boy is so important to me!! it warms my heart just thinking about being his love and aa <3

new grounds | kageyama tobio

literally sparked my love for kageyama!! and this felt like my first actual smau and i'm still very proud of it and in love with it <3 like it was so cozy and all good vibes!! super self indulgent for me writing about a reader in technical theatre and the friend groups and everything we're so special to me <3 i get so many sort of like just big childhood friend groups vibes from this fic lowk i think i may have to look into making moodboards for it...not to mention how much @cr4yolaas' night shift smau is inspiring me... (shameless plug)(ALSO RYE I HAVE TO SEND THIS ASK TO U!! I NEED TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SELF RECCS AND THOUGHTS ABOUT YOUR OWN FICS <33 I WILL BE IN YOUR INBOX SOON!!)

cold kisses | kozume kenma

life was also lowk a little enjoyable while writing this smau!! like i remember running around fighting for my life the day of prom because i was trying to get ready AND post a chapter of cold kisses <3 i spent so many nights in a cafe writing this smau, i remember the exact seat of the cafe i was sitting in while outlining the smau, i remember working at my last job on dish, and having to stop and pull out my phone to write down ideas, and my manager passing me by and giving me a weird look <3 sorry i guess i associate times in my life a lot with my works although i think that's kind of cool!! i also loved the entire premise of this smau ofc <3 all sparked by how much figure skating tiktok inspired me <3

[goodluckclove]

Hi Clove! I'm a new follower and I rather enjoy seeing you on my dash. I also live in Portland (transplant not native) and I think it's cool whenever you mention someplace that I'm semi-familiar with.

Anywhosies, I've been stuck on a scene in my book The Book of Daemon for probably 3 weeks now, and it's not really because I don't like the contents of it or because it's not working or any other craft reason. I'm just not having fun writing it. It's a scene that acts as a bridge between two different plot arcs essentially, and I can't exactly cut it. I just really, really wanna get to writing the next scene, because more fun things happen. It's a struggle.

Has that happened to you before? If so, how did you go about making it fun for yourself?

(If not, that's cool! Either way, I just wanted to go out on a limb and say hi, hello, I think you're cool and good luck with writing today!)

Hi! Sit down with me. It's just started kind of raining for some reason here. I'm also a transplant! Here for about four years from the Bay Area! I love it here because it's so bikeable and full of trees, even though people love to walk their dogs without leashes which I find insane. But I'm sure you've seen that.

So yeah, I've written 13-15 books (I've lost count) over the course of fifteen years, and I've absolutely come to points that weren't the most exciting in the world. It happens. In my experience there's a manageable kind of boring that's just kind of like yeah man one step at a time. That's fine. I'm fine with that.

But when it sucks? When I point that I just don't want to do, to the point where I actually stop writing entirely?

Yeah, man. I don't write that.

See I'm a big proponent for the intuition of a writer and the autonomy of a character. This is where my Magical Thinking comes into play as I say in a semi-professional setting that I think sometimes your characters have opinions and thoughts and it's part of our job to decide when to accommodate them.

This isn't something that people who rely heavily on outlines like to hear. They already decided everything the character does before they wrote a single word - but now the character exists, and they think their thoughts, and they actually don't want to do something? Fuck that! Lobotomize them and shove them back in the outline drawn by a writer who hadn't actually met the character yet.

Is that dramatic to say? Yes. I'm a dramatic person. I don't think all outlining is bad, I just kind of wish more people were open to adjusting an outline as a character develops, because they should develop as you write them.

So yeah, if I want one of my characters to keep a secret and they say it immediately, I'm like well shit I guess you felt like telling him now. When I want another character to be angry and he's mainly indifferent I'm like dang man you don't get angry like I thought you would. It's probably not for anyone, but I'm super happy not being the all-knowing god of my universe. I'm mainly just some little weirdo scuttling on the edges of each scene, taking notes in a battered composition book. Keeps it interesting.

And it's got to be interesting. It's got to be fun. That's how you keep the prose genuine, I think.

So yeah, the scene's not working? Maybe the scene's fucked. Maybe you need a new scene. Maybe you don't need a scene. Oh shit. Maybe the two plot arcs don't bridge yet. Maybe you jump straight to the cool thing and then go back and explain how they bridged later. Maybe it's non-linear. Can you imagine? What the fuck would happen then?

I'm psyched just thinking about it.

[pavo-ocxllus]

❝ 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐧—𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠-? ❞

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡… two men who's share a single brain cell decides to give you their jersey in the most unconventional way possible 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠… atsumu miya x gn!reader, shoyo hinata x gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… fluff, second-hand embarrassment, 1.9k words (atsumu: 0.9k, hinata: 1k) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬… sweaty atsumu = menace atsumu, definitely not realistic lololol, i guess it's suggestive?? it won't be in the rated-r tag; coming from a volleyball player, [name] mentions a play atsumu did that i'm not sure is entirely possible 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭… after who knows how long, i finally found the inspiration to write slightly based on this (https://youtu.be/71G7IXjUx6U) video of ronaldo giving a fan his jersey! you could also think of this as sort of a sequel to this post, just with different characters! happy late new year and pretend i didn't disappear for a bit <3

𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚. ･ﾟ: *. — 宮侑

the victorious sentiment echoed in the stadium, the cheers specifically belonging the crowds adorned in gold and black. the match between the msby jackals and the ejp raijin had finally concluded, with the jackals coming out on top.

the thing about atsumu was that no matter what—once he gets into your life, he never seems to get out of it. you thought taking a job as a manager for the raijin (which, last time you checked, their home location was definitely not in osaka) would finally get you to part ways with the setter and heal from the obviously unrequited puppy crush that grew out of hand. 

unfortunately, the japanese volleyball world seemed to be quite small, considering the numerous times the two teams went against one another. well, perhaps it was good luck for you; you weren't exactly ready to let him go as a friend yet.

(in your opinion, the word 'friend' was a bit of a stretch, but your point remained standing.)

atsumu, like always, was one of the players that were the center of attention in all his sweat-drenched glory; honestly, it was quite difficult not to notice him.

so, after congratulating the opposing team's manager and coach, you decide to be the good sportsmanship-like person you are and praise his performance (as well as stretch his already over-inflated ego... but it wouldn't be that bad, right?)

"miya-kun!" you called out once he was finished talking to some interviewers, running up to him when he acknowledged your presence with that stupidly big grin of his. once you eventually stood before him, it was as if the words you were mentally preparing yourself to say we're stuck in your throat. "y-you did great today!"

"didn't i tell 'ya to call me atsumu? 'ya know i'm not gonna let 'ya call me that when 'samu and i are in the same room, so why stop there?"

you flushed at the forwardness, though you respected his wishes regardless. "well then... atsumu-kun, you did great!"

he arched his neck back with his hands stationed at his hips, laughing for a while at how swiftly you corrected your "mistake."

"wow," the setter chuckled a bit before finishing with a cocky smirk. "didn't think i woulda had one of my fans be a manager for the raijin, out've all people."

you froze a bit slightly for some reason, but found yourself relaxing not long afterward. he never seemed to change. sometimes, you forget he's just as dorky as ever. you didn't hold back from comparing it to volleyball—he still played the same way as he did in high school.

"well, of course i am, atsumu," you've stated blankly, as if this were and obvious fact. before hearing those words fall out, the blond's head drifted slightly to study a nearby team warming up for a match. however, when he finally registered it in his head he widened his eyes, doing a double take. "you've come a long way from high school... and that rally when you faked a dump, a set, yet actually dumped was nothing short of incredible-"

not bearing to let you incessantly compliment him despite it being only five seconds, the man interrupted. "yeah, yeah... i know, i'm amazin', aren't i? is it gettin' hot in here? personally... i think they should tone down the heater right about now, heh."

you noticed that? was along the lines of the blond's thoughts as he tried to cool down the burning red on his face, blazing across his cheeks. the announcers kind of brushed it under the rug, much to his chagrin, yet it wasn't a big deal that he was noticed. why did you make it a big deal? most importantly, why did he?

"atsumu!" you called out, breaking him out from his thoughts by perching your hand on top of his shoulder. "you're heating up and spacing out... i know i'm not the jackals' manager but you really have to start lookin' out for yourself. though, i suppose it's kind of warm in here..."

"'ya know what? you don't gotta get me to the infirmary, [name]-san. it's scorchin' in here!"

not paying attention to the somewhat cryptic wording, your eyes bounced around the arena, attempting to find the quickest route to get atsumu taken care of. "right, just follow me okay—oh my god."

it all happened too fast—you swore he was wearing a shirt a few seconds ago, and now it was held snugly around his arms before he practically shoved it into your hold.

rather than resting your focus on his defined figure (though, to be fair, you couldn't but sneak a glimpse of it), your eyes were trained on his damp, black and gold jersey, displaying the number in bold font: 13. a part of you didn't even feel the least bit disgusted at the admittedly gross gesture, you simply were standing there, paralyzed in the sheer audacity of it all.

"i- atsumu, there's no way i can-"

"anythin' for a fan, am i right?" he smirked, paying no heed to suddenly grabbing the attention of various newscasters not to far from you two.

deciding to escalate the situation even further, he added something else to the conversation in a lower tone. "if 'ya want, i can give 'ya my shorts, too."

winking at you and flashing his teeth, you couldn't help but feel the urge to turn in your two weeks' notice.

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚. ･ﾟ: *. — 日向翔陽

the awe of the crowd watching the tiniest player in the msby jackals soaring above his teammates and opponents couldn't even come close to holding a candle to your own expression.

it's only amazing to see that he's come so far... you remember when you first discovered HINATA on that low-quality, youtube video you discovered when searching for nothing in particular attempting to fill the void of having absolutely nothing better to do. even at his debut, even at the clumsiness he initially felt during the beginning of the match, you could feel that there was pure passion and skill behind it all. 

when you heard that the infamous ninja-shoyo was coming to japan and made the msby black jackal's starting lineup, you knew you just had to purchase a ticket for one of his games as soon as your busy, hectic life would let you. and now here you are, already have been to seventeen of his games (and counting!) managing to somehow score the same seat in the middle of the stadium, particularly on the side with the gold and black team playing.

the excitement coursing in your veins still remained even after 30 minutes since the match had concluded. the little grin on your face continued to stretch as you ordered some onigiri near the food stand that had been set up right outside the volleyball court; not even the scene where one man (who, may you add, bore a strange resemblance to the owner of the food stall) and two others out of your peripheral vision were causing beside you, clamoring about how they deserve food on the house for "winning," wasn't able to break your attitude.

inevitably, your prior upbeat mood had toned down, now replaced by a strong sense of curiosity regarding the situation behind you. it was only a matter of time before you couldn't handle it, swiftly turning your head around to see what was up. though, you weren't necessarily expecting to have your eyes widen at the sight. 

the blond one was somebody you recognized from the game earlier and behind him was a spiky, silver haired man, who also participated in the match. apparently, you didn't notice the obvious pattern, seeing as you still managed to widen your eyes even more when you noticed the fluff of orange hair right behind you. 

for a split second, both you and hinata locked eyes, before you glanced away first. you directed your attention toward the onigiri stand, hoping that they could just hurry it up your order so you wouldn't have to stand around here for much longer-

"hey!" an unfamiliar voice called out. judging by the way it came behind you, there was an unfortunately high possibility of it being one of those three players. reluctantly, you glanced back, with the opposite hitter's eyes practically boring into yours. "didn't i see you before?"

he was met with confusion as you quirked an eyebrow. "w-what do you mean?"

you hope to the universe he didn't mean he saw you doing something embarrassing, like buying his merch in public or something of the sort. 

a few moments pass, mostly consisting of hinata pondering a bit, glancing at you every now and then while looking down at his shoes trying to figure out your identity. how long was your onigiri going to take to get ready?!

"ah! i know!" hinata suddenly exclaimed, pushing the side of his fist into his palm. "you're the person i always see at our games!"

you take what you previously thought was embarrassing back—nothing compared to that tiny observation could be any more humiliating.

"bokuto-san, miya-san, i think we just found a fan!!"

"as if we don't see more than one everyday, shokkun," the blond disregarded hinata's discovery, going back to haggle the price of onigiri with the owner once more, the sounds of their bickering fading behind you.

"ah, it's your very first fan interaction!" the owl-headed one piped up—based on how loud he was, you were surprised he didn't cause an even larger scene. "they're really special, and they're regular too, which makes it super special! you should give them something!!"

ignoring the blatant display of total embarrassment shoved in your face, you noticed how hinata seemed to be thinking rather hard on this subject. 

"you know what, i know what you can do!" might as well get something out of this, right? "my onigiri is taking a little while, and since your teammate seems to know the proprietor personally, maybe you can get it on the house for me-"

"i know!" the ginger-haired man interrupted your brilliant idea. regardless, you didn't say anything; you were curious what was in his mind that he believed was better than free food. "i can get you my jersey!"

you blinked owlishly, feeling the urge to cock your head to the side in confusion at the sudden outburst, only being able to muster up a, "huh?"

hinata nodded, almost excitedly. "yeah, i think that sounds good, doesn't it?"

"well, sure, but i think my onigiri would be even better-"

you suddenly sputtered, your words refusing to come out of your mouth as you watched hinata pull up his shirt, exposing his attractively toned body. understandably, not wanting attract too much attention and cause your onigiri to be even more delayed, you grabbed the hem of his jersey and yanked it down. 

"i'm good! really, a selfie or something would do!" you panicked, retracting your hands away from him.

"but, wouldn't you want a jersey of your favorite player?"

"...you aren't wrong-"

"then it's settled then!" before your reflexes activated, he yanked his jersey over his head, handing it to you as he bowed. "i hope you support our team in the future!"

you weren't sure if this "souvenir" would encourage you to come to more of their games or swear off of watching volleyball ever again.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 <𝟑