#so i figured i should write it down so i can point at it if readers want to know wtf they are talking about

[sebsbarnes]

one's we have lost

dr. frank langdon x f doctor!reader

summary: for now, we can sit here. we can cry, we can shout, we can be silent. i am here until you tell me to go.

warnings: mentions of patient death (child), aggression towards medical staff, self-doubt, angst, grammar errors, cliches, cursing

word count: 1k+

a/n: no established relationship but its there! yeaah this show i cant even begin to explain my love. a shorty bc im in the middle of writing a longer story for langdon

your hearing was minimized to a buzzing noise, you couldn’t compute the commotion of the ER around you but in the far corner of your mind, the echos of the parents cry sounded. it was but a few steps from the door frame of the quiet room where the news just broke that a roaring sound ripped you from the static.

“you fucking did this! she is gone because of you. you’re a fucking doctor, you’re meant to save lives and now i’ll never hear my baby call out to me or-or celebrate holidays or fuck, her sixth birthday,” the grieving father screamed, his figure looming over you, his hand gripped tightly to your shoulder, “you should be ashamed to call yourself a doctor.”

there was nothing you could say to amend the situation, but truthfully, you said nothing because you believed him. you couldn’t save the little girl. the ongoing doubts about your skill set were now reaffirmed by the mourning father. it was moments before you realized security had pulled him away from your face, his finger pointed so close to you it ghosted your nose.

voices sounded from all around you but you couldn’t comprehend what syllables your coworkers were stringing together to comfort you. with your body numb from the shift and imposter syndrome setting in, you aimlessly pushed past everyone without a word and wandered until you reached a stairwell multiple flights up from the emergency department.

you slammed the side of your fists into the wall as the numbness faded and the anger, sadness, and pain took place. the little girl's face played in your mind, the repeated visits she had to the emergency room due to a chronic condition. each time she came that tiny voice of hers pleaded to see you. she trusted you each time yet in the end you failed her.

back in the emergency department langdon had exited one of the trauma rooms as the patient was rushed up to surgery. he trudged over to the nurses station searching for his hours-old red bull in hopes of a pick me up. immediately langdon could tell there was a shift in energy in the department. some nurses were whispering, others quietly documenting notes, robby was in a hushed but serious conversation with the security guards.

"hey langdon," dana sighed offering a thin-lipped smile.

"what's going on out here? did i miss something, everyone seems a bit...uh, off," he questioned.

dana's mouth morphed into a frown, "the little girl passed, the smith family that is always here. the dad became angry and started attac-"

"where is she?" langdon cut dana off immediately knowing you were the one who was with the girl.

dana could only offer a shoulder shrug, "she walked off after security took the father away."

"shit," he muttered as he dropped the redbull on the desk and stalked off towards a familiar spot.

footsteps echoed their way towards you and in a measly attempt to hide your face you placed your forehead to your knees, "look gloria, i don't want to fill out any statements or paperwork."

"i didn't know i gave off a managerial presence but i'll consider that for the future."

you peeked your eyes open to see two shoes in front of your own feet. letting out a deep breath you picked your head up and looked at langdon's figure standing above you.

"respectfully, you should never consider it, i don't think you're cut out for a position like that," you attempted to joke back, blinking away threatening tears and clearing your scratchy throat.

langdon shared the wall with you as he slid down to the floor, his shoulder bumping into yours and his legs outstretched beside your own. you didn't need to look at langdon to know his eyes were boring holes into you. for the moment, it was nice to not be alone. hearing his light breathing and the sound of his scrubs rubbing together distracted you from the thoughts clouding your mind. the small voices of the patients you've lost telling you to walk out of the hospital and never return. that you're wasting your time and doing more harm than good.

"look, i-" langdon hesitated, "i am so sorry."

your head dropped back against the wall, eyes looking to the ceiling, "it's all my fault, he is right. why the fuck am i a doctor? she was five langdon, five. i couldn't save her and she is gone because of me, because of my shortcomings, because my failure of knowledge," you ranted with a wobbly voice.

langdon winced at your words. he has found himself repeating those same sentences to himself in the mirror when he's had a horrible shift. a sentiment that most doctors langdon knows have battled with. the weight of every right and wrong choice lingering with you until the end of time.

langdon whispered your name to grab your attention. he softly grabbed your hands, careful not to startle you in this vulnerable state, "every patient we cannot fix, every moment we cannot fix will sit with us, forever. it will sit with you forever, i know it and i know you well enough. this job can be brutal and unfair but it can also be so fulfilling."

"i know," you whispered finally looking to him. langdon's face etched with concern. the pad of his thumb dusting off a rolling tear.

he continued, "i have never met someone so dedicated to their job. not only do you fight for your patients but you also fight for your coworkers...for me. you are a rarity. you are a doctor because your heart is in the right place and you strive to make a difference. losing patients is going to be a given no matter how good we are, it's the nature of the job. but, you cannot give up."

a weak and shaky smile graced your face. you looked to the man beside you appreciative of his words that were not laced with humor but with shared understanding and respect. delicately you cupped his cheek, "thank you, langdon."

"i will be here for you, always. an-and, i need you...i cannot walk through these doors every shift knowing you won't be here. we have each other, okay?"

you blinked away the fast-approaching tears and nodded softly to him. langdon wrapped an arm around your shoulder allowing you to nestle into his side.

"for now, we can sit here. we can cry, we can shout, we can be silent. i am here until you tell me to go."

[zorange13]

—enhypen as boyfriends, argument edition

how they are during arguments?

enha hyung line x fem! poc reader (no specific descriptors, like i said i just write everything with poc's in mind so this is just my thing atp idk)

cw. arguments/conflicts in romantic relationships, verbal escalation, profanity (bc when do i not curse), emotional vulnerability, brief mentioning of tears.

wc. 2.2k, lightly proofread

lee heeseung 

— what he does

whether it’s you or him that’s in the wrong, it always starts with somebody sassing the other person unnecessarily or for no good reason. please don’t misunderstand, you guys are not toxic by any means. but i still stand on what i said about him being prideful. so with that, i feel that you two would go at it until you make a good point, then he just shuts down—as previously mentioned. so he would just stop talking after a while, especially when he feels like you aren’t hearing him. 

but the thing about hee is that he never calls you your actual name. it’s always ‘babe’, ‘beautiful’, or ‘baby’ and if he does call you by your name then that’s how you would know he’s livid. which isn’t that often—but nonetheless, he doesn’t talk after a while. especially if he gets so angry to the point where he just retracts. he hits you with the ‘mhm’, ‘yeah’, ‘i get it’, and everything else just so he doesn’t have to tell you that you’re right or that he was being dramatic.

— how he would make it up to you

like i said, after his fit of silence, then he would apologize whether he was wrong or not. he doesn’t like to be wrong but would not risk you over some stupid ass argument about who didn’t clean up. but like i said, he’s a very masculine guy and prides himself on being a good counterpart to your femininity. he feels that you shouldn’t have to yell, nor should you have to overexert yourself to make a point to him. especially when it’s both of you guys’ job to have healthy, safe conversations with the other. but no one’s perfect and that’s not going to happen every single time. “you were right, and i’m sorry. i don’t like to see you yell or anything because that’s not what a lady should do, and i’m sorry that i brought that out of you over something so silly. i love you and never want to put you in a position like that.”

from there, heeseung would give you space if that’s what you wanted. but he would still let you know how apologetic he is by going to get your favorite snacks and setting up a cute at-home movie date. or if you aren’t up to that, he’d cook you dinner and talk to you about how you’re feeling for as long as you need to.

he isn’t perfect and can acknowledge that, but he loves you and will do anything to make sure you know.

park jay

— what he does

jay’s very calm and likeminded, but almost annoyingly so. he doesn’t like to fight and neither do you. but regardless, fights happen but if anyone were to be loud, it would be you. you’re not above raising your voice, and a part of you feels so stupid because as weird as it sounds, you wished he’d get angry. but he just sits there, listening—of course, frustrated—but still actively listening and you would be like “does what i’m saying mean anything to you?” and he would nod quaintly, “it means everything to me, you mean everything to me and that’s why i’m just trying to figure this out.” “jay, you know you can yell back right? no, not even yell. just act like you give a shit.” “i can give a shit and still not yell, you know that right?”

he tries to hear you out but then he just finds himself getting irritated at your lack of understanding at times. but he wouldn’t back down, nor would he let you walk all over him. I feel like when you really start to push him is when he’d snap. “okay no, i’m not doing this with you if you’re just gonna speak to me like i’m a child. i’m your equal as you’re mine, be a fucking adult and stop speaking to me like i’m not a grown man.”

— how he would make it up to you

you both take some time away from the conversation and reconvene when you’re both calm. funnily enough, in the early days of your relationship, you both promised each other that during a fight you guys had to hold hands. especially when you both felt it was necessary. so as you guys hold hands, like you do every fight, you hear each other out. you apologize for the wrongdoings and neglection between the both of you. “i’m sorry for cursing at you earlier, i was frustrated but that’s not excuse. you are my woman, my love and you deserve more than the lowest words that leave someone’s mouth being spewed in your direction.” you both laugh at his cheesiness, but nonetheless you forgive him because you in fact did need that wakeup call.

he spends the rest of the day giving you space if you so choose. if not, then he just hangs out with you and does whatever you want. watching tv, playing games, just chatting, it’s simple moments like these when he remembers why he fell in love with you in the first place.

sim jaeyun

— what he does (& how it starts)

jake is such a sweet person, such a soft, kindhearted individual and i feel like it would take a lot to get him truly angry. with people like him, either they’re super sensitive or it takes a lot to really get them there. how he is with others, we don’t know. but with you, he loves you so much that he’s more than willing to be patient with you. “ok, she had a bad day. let me give her space.” “she just gave me an attitude for no reason, let me just make her something to take her mind off what’s bothering her.” and he lets you slide, he doesn’t say anything. he just shows that he cares and leaves you alone. but one day, one fateful day, when you come home and give him an attitude when he tries to ask you about your day “hi, my angel. how was your day?” “jake, not now. just leave me alone.” he just can’t hold back anymore. “ok, don’t take this the wrong way but…what the fuck is your problem these days?”

this would send fire through you because you’ve been waiting for a reason to take your anger out on someone. “why the fuck are you speaking to me like that?” and this would open the floodgates. “because you’ve been speaking to me like i did something to you. you’ve been in a weird mood these last few days and i’ve been letting you slide but now this is getting to be too much. i’m not a fucking doormat. you may be in a bad mood but i’m your man, and you’re gonna respect me.” “but i’ve just been in a mood and you keep sweating me!” “you think i give a shit about a mood? you—babe (this is where the aggravation comes in)…then you say ‘baby, i’m not in a good mood and i would like to be alone for a while.’ you don’t shut me out for 2 days and then get mad when i confront you about it.”

— how he would make it up to you

ok he did in fact eat you up just then! but still, you may be pissed but what makes sense, makes sense. “you’re right. 100%. i should’ve spoken to you about it and asked for that space. i’m sorry for the way i spoke to you, i love you. i hope you can forgive me.” it really is that simple but jake is still frustrated and at this point comes to tears because he feels hurt that you didn’t even trust him enough to come to him about what was bothering you and it even boiled over to this point. at this point, he would start having doubts about him as your boyfriend and this would eat you alive. But he would apologize himself too. “i’ll always forgive you, always. but this can’t be happening, it’s fine if you come home after a hard day and you want space. that’s more than okay, but when you start getting disrespectful for no reason is where i draw the line. we’re adults here and this is not something that we should be engaging in if this is how we’re gonna be communicating from now on. this has to be fixed. now, because that was crazy.” 

you agree, and for the rest of the day talk as long as you guys need to, you talk about what was bothering you in the first place, also setting new boundaries to ensure this doesn’t happen again!!

park sunghoon

— what he does (& how it starts)

sunghoon is a very quiet person, though he isn’t emotionless. he loves you more than you’d know and at times he doesn’t necessarily know how to show it. i’ve said this before so this isn’t news. if it’s anything outside of an ‘i love you’ then it’s just not him. but, i think there will be a day where you’re feeling extra affectionate with him and he’s just not feeling it. it starts super small though, just how clingy you’re being. but he’s literally just not reciprocating. he’ll just brush you off with a “not now, i’m not in the mood.” which is confusing, because yes, he’s allowed to not be in the mood but even when you aren’t in the mood, you still show up for him when he needs it the most. it’s just a mix of you feeling rejected, unwanted, and his own selfishness.

so when you do bring it up, he just doesn’t see much wrong. “why are you being so mean to me, sunghoon?” “i’m not being mean, i just don’t wanna be bothered.” 

he’s not trying to hurt you, but he lowkey sucks at expressing his own feelings when he’s overwhelmed or off. he probably shuts down emotionally mid-argument, giving those short, clipped answers, and might even physically distance himself like, “i need a minute.” it’s not mean, it’s just peak avoidant attachment type of behavior on his end.

— how he would make it up to you

once he has time to sit with his feelings, guilt hits hard. he hates knowing he made you feel unwanted, especially when you were just trying to be close. he’s so bad at verbal apologies at first, but you’d definitely wake up to him being extra sweet—like bringing you coffee. but because he’s so uncomfortable with verbal affection, he’d write you a little letter to truly let you know how apologetic he is. as he’s giving you this letter, he debates reading it to you, or handing it to you then scrambling out of the room. but scrambling out is the exact reason he’s here in the first place. so he goes with the former:

“dear my star, 

i have absolutely no sort of emotional wherewithal and this is just my way of telling you that i love you. i love you so much it makes me feel like love isn’t even the right word to use in the context of you. i don’t ever in my life want to make you feel like you cannot talk to me, like you’re an impudence when you are really the best part of my day. nothing makes me feel better than when i come home after a long day then to see your face. even hugging you close, smelling your perfume while i stink from the sweat and you shouldn’t even be hugging me because you just showered. but you don’t care, you just want me. i’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not the best fucking thing to happen to me. i’m sorry for not giving you what you need at moments when i feel like i’m not up to it. when there are days you’re clearly not up to it and still give me every last inch of you. i promise that i will adhere to your love languages, even though that’s something i should’ve been doing already. i love you, my star. and please, whenever i slip or anything, remind me of this promise. the promise we both made to love each other through the speedbumps and hiccups to the mountains and heart attacks. but i am promising that i will work to become the best partner for you until the day my maker calls me home. i’m nothing if not a man of my word.

love always,

your moon, sunghoon”

he’d be smiling while you're nearly in tears and he’s just laughing at his little rhyming scheme. “get it? moon? sunghoon?” and you’d just call him a fucking loser and give him the tightest hug and sloppiest kiss he’s ever gotten in his life.

but he’s made very good on his promise. telling you he loves you and fully indulging in anything that you want to do and he finds that he quite likes being affectionate because it makes him feel so good to see you feel like you’re well taken care of. because as long as you’re with him, you are.

Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Show me your fangs: Logan Howlett/Autistic reader

This is very self insert-ish. I just wanted an excuse to write about an autistic reader with my favorite characters. Like I said, this is more just servicing my self shipping ass.

Content Includes: Ambiguous relationship (can be platonic or romantic)

You are a part of the X-Men team. You work with students one on one during school hours and help everyone else deal with whatever bullshit Magneto is trying to pull. But you don't exactly act like everyone else. You have a way of taking things literally, not picking up on things you probably should. You have some niche interests you spend hours doing research into, you only eat the same seven meals every time Logan sees you eating. Sure you're a little weird, but this is the X-Men mansion, who isn't a freak?

It's mid afternoon on a Saturday, everyone else is off doing something. The Professor and Storm most likely trying to help some students. But Logan finds himself doing what he usually does, drinking a beer, walking around the mansion. He's been here for a while, and as long as he's been here, he's never really seen many other people's rooms.

Sure they're usually the same kind of thing. Similar furniture and layout, with some personal details added from that person's interests and whatever. But when Logan caught a glance from the corner of his eye at your room, he had to take another look. He didn't mean to be a creep or anything, despite his somewhat assholish nature. Your room had the same basics that everyone did, the same wooden floor, part wooden walls, and that cream color paint.

But yours was different, remarkably different. Over the entire room was decorated with vampire themes and memorabilia. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars worth of posters, books, DVDS, VHS tapes, books, figures, so many things in your room dedicated to vampires.

Right now you've got your headphones on while watching how you're filing your sharp nails. You have some kind of animal mutation right? Logan can't help himself. He has to ask some questions. He clears this throat and steps into your room. You don't seem to notice him so he tries to make it more obvious.

"Hey." You glance at him and take off your headphones, your eyes staying down on your nails.

"Hi." You reply. Are you uninterested? Logan doesn't blame you, you've barely said two words to this man before, no big deal if you're awkward around him.

"You uh...You got a vampire mutation or something?" He asks, taking a sip of his beer. You shake your head and blow some dust off your nails. After a pause something crosses your face and you look up from your nails, then at Logan, then back around the room.

"No I uh...I have this cat kind of mutation thing or whatever. I just really like vampires." You set your file on your nightstand and walk over to the closest shelf. You pick up an action figure and pose it while speaking more. "It started when I was 11. I watched the 1958 Christopher Lee Dracula movie for the first time with my siblings and I just fell in love. I spent every minute I could learning about vampires. I started collecting when I was 15 and I got my first job."

Logan suppresses a smile as you slowly become more and more animated.

"So my collection started with this Universal Dracula collectible knife I got at a garage sale. I haggled for a bit and probably didn't get the best deal, but it's still really cool." You explain, walking over to Logan holding a slightly coffin shaped object. The word "Dracula" written on the top in silver. You flip it open to reveal one side of the knife has bats all over it and the other side has a drawing of Dracula. Then you shut it and expose the knife.

Logan nods his head and sips his beer again. His eyes catching your little fangs when you smile.

"Real interesting stuff." His tone is as flat as yours, but you don't seem to notice. You set down the knife then pick up a VHS tape, pointing to a signature written in black ink.

"I got my copy of 'Fright Night' signed by the guy who plays Charlie in the movie. I don't really like Charlie all that much, I think he should have just minded his own business, but that's just me." You shrug and turn the VHS tape over, showing Logan the back. He didn't expect to get sucked into a lecture about vampires, but for the next half hour, you spoke uninterrupted about vampires. Going through your collection of things one by one. But Logan had only one thing he wanted to see.

"Hey Y/N," He finally says, putting his beer bottle on your dresser. You look over at him for a moment before quickly looking down at the ground. "Show me your fangs." You look at him again, just for a moment before opening your mouth wide enough for him to get a look at your sharp, cat like teeth. He smiles and nods his head. Match made in heaven, he's sure.

[skimmingmilk]

Hi! I was wondering if you maybe had a wip of an upcoming chapter/story you plan on sharing in the future? :0 I love all your work and am excited to see what you have coming up!

Thank you so much! I absolutely have a lot of wips I'd be happy to share, I know it's been a minute since I've been able to upload something to AO3. I've been plugging away at "When the World Breaks" for the past several weeks and it's been pretty slow going :') I've had a lot more going on in the beginning of the year than I expected, so that's derailed writing quite a bit, but progress is still being made! So I'll share a little of Shamar's chapter as a sneak peek since it's been so long in the making <3

“Hey, guys! Long time no see.” Sonic flashed them a grin as two of his friends rushed over to him. “I see ya got a head start without me!”

“We wanted to let you sleep in a bit!” Chip chirped, flying in excited, dizzying circles around Sonic’s head.

“So we thought we’d take Tails’s medal tracker out for a spin and see if we could speed the process along for you,” Amy added.

Sonic’s eyes dropped to the abaya draped over her arm. “Oh, yeah. I can see that,” he snickered.

Rolling her eyes with a “tch,” Amy placed one hand on her hip. “There was a medal in the market, you know. And Tails can confirm it, too. Right, Tails?” She looked to the two-tailed fox as he finally made his way over to them, eyes still glued to his tablet.

“Yeah. But the shopping was definitely a detour.”

“Besides, we’re already ahead of schedule!” Amy waved off, ignoring Tails entirely and prompting him to finally glance up at her with a bland look. “Professor Pickle and I already figured out the next temple is in Adabat before we left. After that, there’s just one more to go!”

“Adabat, huh?” Tails hummed, punching in generic coordinates in the Miles Electric. “Not exactly next door…”

“But not on the other side of the world, either!” Sonic held up a finger. “All things considered, Adabat’s not a bad stop.”

“So, since we wanted to let you get some more rest, Professor Pickle encouraged us to do some sightseeing.”

“He said we could take in some of the sights while searching for the medals. With the emphasis being on the medals and not, you know…” Tails gestured wordlessly to the market around them.

“Okay, fine. You’ve made your point,” Amy sighed. “I still think we should get some kind of refreshment before we keep looking. It’s easy to get dehydrated in heat like this!”

“Refreshments! Yeah!” Chip did a flip in the air, then flopped atop Sonic’s head. “Please, Sonic, I’m so thirsty. It’s so dry.”

Sonic laughed. “Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s get you something to drink—”

“And eat!”

“And eat,” Sonic tacked on, shaking his head fondly. 

“Perfect!” Amy clapped her hands together. “Let’s all get something to eat at a cute little cafe, then you three can go searching for more sun and moon medals while I finish up shopping! I want to pick up a little something for Cream and Vanilla while we’re here. I missed out on souvenirs while we were in Spagonia.”

Tails tucked his tablet under his arm. “I’ll meet up with you guys later. I only got to test my tracker for a little bit in Holoska, so I need more data to make sure its readings are accurate. And I want to see how much we can shave off the time we spend looking for them. The faster, the better, right?”

Sonic leaned his elbow against the top of Tails’s head. “Can’t argue that!”

Amy sighed. “You really are cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?”

“The coolest cloth around.” Sonic winked, then nudged Tails. “But how ‘bout we grab something to take with us on the go? Then we can get right back to our medal mission and that big brain of yours won’t get too dehydrated before the day’s out.”

The look Tails cast him was none too impressed, but he simply released a heavy sigh and pushed Sonic’s elbow out of his personal space. “Fine. As long as it’s a quick stop. We’ve only got so much daylight before we’re slowed down by the Dark Gaia creatures.”

“‘As long as it’s quick.’ Do you know who I am?” Sonic teased.

[confused-since-birth]

Razor's Grip - part two

Hello! Hope you enjoy this part as well. I was thinking to make the chapters longer, so let me know what you think. Enjoy! Also, worth mentioning is the fact that the reader is you, looks like you, has your skin color. This place is safe. If in what I am writing there ends up being something not as inclusive as it should be, please let me know.

Part 1

✨synthesis: Trying to build your career in the domain of protocores and science leads you into the Onychinus organization without knowing. Secrets surround you and Sylus and nothing is what it seems. It might be unexpected, but you two are more alike than you both think. What will go wrong? What will go right? Destiny is full of unexpected things, after all.

✨word count: 1233

✨warnings: nothing much, being kidnapped and unsettled I guess :))

Laughter bubbled inside you, then spilled, breaking the silence. First, it was just a chuckle, but it turned fast into a full-blown laughing fit. Was it really funny? Or was it from the stress, begging for your life to what god was listening and exhaustion? Maybe all of them. You couldn't stop. Your throat and lungs started to protest.

The ‘mechanic’ looked like he was getting more unnerved by the second. It's as if he didn't want to be right here right now. That would really make two of you.

‘Boss’ was sporting a wonderful poker face - no more smirking, raised brows or other cocky expressions. Was he feeling insulted? Bored? Couldn't really figure it out.

After a while, as reality settled in, your laughter stopped leaving you more tired than before

“Do I look like a kidnapper to you?”, you asked.

“Do I seem like a professional kidnapper to you?”, he asked as a smirk found itself back on his lips.

“Professional kidnapper might be the best opinion I have of you right now. This is like, my first impression of you.”

He raises his brows slightly then drops the knife on the coffee table next to him.

“So?”, he looks at you, waiting for an answer.

“So what?”

“I told you I want you to work for me”, he scoffed as if he was annoyed.

He’s there, sitting in a comfy chair, not tied up, sweaty and hungry…and HE is annoyed.

“I’m tied up. Standing. Last time I checked, when you go for an interview there's a table and chairs. And both are sitting down. I feel like I'm interrogated, more than convinced to work for you”, you say lifting your wrists to prove your point.

In a second the ropes disappear in a red mist. A table and a chair appear in front of you from the other side of the room.

“Sit.”

You fall heavy on the chair as the two men who brought you here leave.

When the door closes behind them the silver haired man starts talking again.

“I am making you an offer- “

“Who are you, first, where am I right now, second”

He chuckles. It doesn't sound like an amused type of chuckle. His cold eyes have a bored glint into them.

“N109 Zone. My offer is to work for Onychinus. You would have to help Philip here with things he will tell you later. The important part is the fact that we know you are one of the best regarding physics, protocores and such.”

“I am still a student. How can I possibly be the best?”, you state the obvious hoping that you would just go home.

“Look, I know that since fifth grade every year you’ve finished with a cute little diploma that has ‘excellence’ written on it, also that recent papers of a certain very well-known professor have your name on it. Did I mention that those papers are very appreciated in the scientific world? Would I be wrong to assume that what is written there is mostly your work?”

That is… terrifying. Yeah, you are working your ass off, but it’s more about ambition. Everything you got and came to you was about putting more work into it, rather than luck. And this guy? Beautiful as he may be, he is scary - he shouldn’t know these things. Alright, the papers are one thing as they are public, but fifth grade? What else does he know?

“Flattering, didn’t think I already have fans. How much?”, you try to play smug, try to hide how scared you actually are.

When people know to much about you, it’s never a good sign. Didn’t this also happen…last time? You knew that since you are here, there's already no going back for now. If you want to live, you should always be smart. Were you to refuse and fight, who knows what might happen? So, now, there's only one right answer - say yes to this, set some boundaries and hope that maybe you will find a way later. And, maybe, be a small thorn in their side.

“How much you want?”, the smirk on his smug face never wavers.

“10 000”, you say the most shameless amount that comes to mind.

No sane person would ever give you this much money. Perhaps, he would find someone who does what he wants for cheaper. Hopefully.

“You know, for emotional compensation after today. Also, it's not easy to live as a student.”, you add.

“Make it 20 000”, he says getting up.

Your so-called new boss walks in long strides to the door, as you sit there dumbfounded. Before he exits, he casts you one last look and says:

“Oh, also you're not a student anymore. Perhaps you will find more than that and what you are searching for here.”

And he was gone, leaving you at the table with your life turned upside down. Hundreds of questions flying around in your head.

Asshole.

***

The shop owner tried his best to give a warm welcome. The tour of the shop might have picked your interest, but what really caught your attention was the kitchen. You were hungry and thirsty. He could hear your stomach being very vocal about its opinions regarding today and the lack of food.

“Uh, I think I have some pasta leftovers from a few hours ago, if you want. Do you want some tea? Milk?... Water?”, he asks scanning his fridge for what else could he offer you.

“Pasta and water are fine, thank you.”

Philip heats up the food, passes you a glass of water. He sits across from you at the table, looking unsure what to say to you or whether he should say it.

“Sylus said that for a while you are not allowed to get out of the shop. He gave me this”, he gives you a watch. It is a beautiful watch, silver, simple. “It’s to monitor your location.”

But of course!

“Is that his name? Sylus?”, it might have been a beautiful name if it wasn’t his. It is a strange one, but it sounds nice when it rolls of your tongue. Sylus. Sylus.

The shop owner just nods and a sigh leaves your lips after you swallowed a mouthful of pasta. The watch is cold to the touch. It makes goosebumps appear on your skin when it finds itself on your wrist. After you put it on, you finish your food in complete silence.

The room you were given is…you could say, minimalist. There is a double bed, a desk, some empty shelves and a dressing. To your surprise and unease, the dressing has a few clothes exactly you size. They aren’t fancy or anything, but the idea of it makes your skin crawl. The funny part? There’s no underwear. You don’t know whether this is nice, as it would’ve been uncomfortable to know those two guys might have chosen or stolen your underwear from home, or annoying. Either way, you take a shower, do your skin care – because apparently there are your favorite products in the bathroom and they are quite pricey – and collapse on the bed.

Sleep doesn’t come right away. You lay there, exhausted. What’s the plan now?  Turning the problem on every side, asking a million questions, tiredness paralyzes your mind and body slowly, until you slip into the world of dreams.

______________________

Tags: @m00njinnie @allura-miss

[etoilesombre]

Hey, do you guys want to hear a story? Let me tell you about the romance between Lancelot and Guinevere, as recounted in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur.

So, I thought I knew the basics. I grew up reading modern versions of Arthurian legend that focused on other aspects, but had a general knowledge of the Arthur-Guinever-Lancelot love triangle. It didn't show up too much, but I assumed it was subtext in some other versions. What I picked up was that it was sort of pure, almost an ot3, and not the cause of a lot of problems. 

My friends. In this version it is NOT SUBTEXT, it DEFINITELY CAUSED PROBLEMS, and it is WILD. It is a true will-they-won't-they drama fest soap opera romance, and I need to share. So please, come on this journey with me.

[I’m looking at you, Black Sails fandom people. I need you to know that Flint canonically would have read this. He would almost certainly have also grown up hearing these stories. I’m not saying he’s Lancelot coded, but I am saying it's interesting that he would have been aware that was something it was possible to be.]

A couple notes, before we dive in. I am very much just summarizing what happened in the book. The thing is, the book is a million pages long and also in Middle English, and this is just one of many plots, which I think is why it's not more widely known. I will show some excerpts so you can get a feel for the text, but you don’t need to read them to understand the story. I'm referring to a version that is as close to the manuscript as I can find, though with spelling regularized. For real fun, see what the original looked like. Malory purports to be translating part of the French Vulgate cycle, which likely is where the character of Lancelot originates, but in fact he is doing much more than translating, and compiles other stories as well. Point being, when he says “so the French book sayeth” etc, that is the “book” to which he is referring. Because of my lack of knowledge about the language and cultural context, this lecture series from Mythgard Academy was absolutely invaluable to my understanding. I cannot recommend it highly enough. Inevitably, some of the opinions of the prof are reflected here. I do not have it in me to compare the scholarship of various medievalists right now, I just want to tell you about this DRAMA. 

Let’s start with a prophecy. When Arthur decides he wishes to marry Guinevere, Merlin advises him to take someone else, because if he takes her, she will betray him with Lancelot and it will destroy his kingdom. All of this is foretold, not only to us, but to Arthur himself. Of course he takes her anyway, and all is doomed from the start.

As we begin the main arc of this story (several books after the prophecy), Lancelot is widely acknowledged to be the best and most renowned knight of Arthur’s court. He is plainly and hopelessly in love with Guinevere, and she loves him in return. Arthur doesn’t have a problem with this - who wouldn’t love Guinevere? This sort of love is socially acceptable, so long as they do not sleep together, which would be treason. Arthur in fact seems to support their love, because it means that Lancelot will be Guinevere’s champion should she need one. This is a role Arthur himself legally cannot fill because he is the king, and so would have to be the judge. Lancelot is indeed a good champion for her, and fights for her when she is wrongly accused of murder. 

Lancelot is deeply chivalrous, in a way that seems sincere. This is a great place for a first excerpt, a conversation with a Random Damsel Lancelot has been helping:

‘Now, damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘will ye any more service of me?’ ‘Nay, sir,’ she said, ‘at this time, but almighty Jesu preserve you wheresoever ye ride or go, for the most courteous knight thou art and meekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But one thing, sir knight, me thinks ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye will not love some maiden or gentlewoman. For I could never hear say that ever ye loved any of no manner of degree, and that is great pity. But it is noised that ye love Queen Guenivere, and that she hath ordained by enchantment that ye shall never love no other but her, nor no other damosel nor lady shall rejoice you; wherefore there be many in this land of high estate and low that make great sorrow.’ ‘Fair damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘I may not warn* people to speak of me what it pleaseth them; but for to be a wedded man, I think it not; for then I must couch with her, and leave arms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for to say to take my pleasance with paramours, that will I refuse, in principal for dread of God. For knights that be adventurous should not be adulterers nor lecherous, for then they be not happy nor fortunate unto the wars; for either they shall be overcome with a simpler knight than they be themselves, or else they shall slay by unhap and their cursedness better men than they be themselves. And so who that useth paramours shall be unhappy, and all thing unhappy that is about them.’ 

So after doing his Knightly Deeds for this damsel, Lancelot asks if she needs anything else. She says no, but you are lacking one thing, which is the love of a woman. It is rumored that is because Guinevere has through sorcery made you love only her, and that causes all of the women great sorrow. In reply Lancelot makes this speech about how he cannot have a wife or paramour and be a good knight, but everyone thinks it is at least in part because his love is reserved for Guinevere.

Now, throughout the book his chastity DOES notably cause all of the women great sorrow. Everyone wants to sleep with Lancelot. Literally he is kidnapped by the four most beautiful queens other than Guinevere, and they say he has to choose one of them as a lover (not even a wife, a lover) or else die. He says he would rather die, though in the end he escapes. This is just an example, truly it is a recurring problem for him. He is, at one point, tricked into sleeping with a woman with whom he conceives his son Galahad (as was prophesied, it's a long story and the romance is only part of it. It is worth mentioning that something similar happens to Arthur, which is how Mordred is sired.) When Guinevere learns that Lancelot has been with someone else, she is angry and banishes him from the court. They still love each other and eventually reconcile. 

So, Lancelot goes on the quest for the holy grail. But he fails, specifically because while he is outwardly dedicated to God, in his private heart he is still dedicated to Guinevere. And so he makes a vow to renounce his love for her, acknowledging that it is beyond measure (beyond what is right, even if they have not technically done anything wrong.) However when he returns to Camelot, he cannot keep this vow, as we see. 

Then, as the book saith, Sir Lancelot began to resort unto Queen Guenivere again, and forgot the promise and the perfection that he made in the quest. For, as the book saith, had not Sir Lancelot been in his privy thoughts and in his mind so set inwardly to the Queen as he was in seeming outward to God, there had no knight passed him in the quest of the Sangrail, but ever his thoughts were privily on the Queen. And so they loved together more hotter than they did beforehand, and had many such privy draughts together that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain’s brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. So it befell that Sir Lancelot had many resorts of ladies and damosels that daily resorted unto him to be their champion: in all such matters of right Sir Lancelot applied him daily to do for the pleasure of Our Lord Jesu Christ. And ever as much as he might he withdrew him from the company of Queen Guenivere for to eschew the slander and noise, wherefore the Queen waxed wroth with Sir Lancelot.

He and Guinevere start spending a lot of time alone together, and so there are rumors circulating about them in court. In order to put a stop to the rumors, Lancelot starts paying other women attention and doing more good knightly deeds for them. Guinevere is terribly jealous, but he tells her it's for their own good, and also tells her about the vow he made, and his concern that their love is beyond what is appropriate. She is devastated, and weeping banishes him from the court (again). 

Lancelot then rides in a tournament, disguised. (Why? Because this is simply a thing knights do.) To make it an effective disguise he takes the token of a woman, the sleeve of the fair maid of Astolat to wear on his helm. When she discovers that he was only using it for the disguise, and he does not indeed love her, she is so heartbroken that she says if he will not marry her or be her lover, she will die. He refuses, on the grounds that love must not be constrained and should arise from the heart, and offers her a thousand pounds a year instead if she marries anyone else. Properly insulted by this, she does indeed die. She has her body sent in a boat to Camelot, with a letter in her hand, saying that she died of her love for him, that he would not return. 

Seeing this, Guinevere reconciles with Lancelot, presumably reassured by the fact that he would let this very beautiful much younger woman die of her love rather than being with her. She insists that from now on he will not fight in disguise, and will openly bear her token. 

Then Queen Guenivere sent for Sir Lancelot, and said thus: ‘I warn you that ye ride no more in no jousts nor tournaments but that your kinsmen may know you; and at these jousts that shall be ye shall have of me a sleeve of gold. And I pray you for my sake to force* yourself there, that men may speak you worship. But I charge you as ye will have my love, that ye warn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold upon your helmet.’ ‘Madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘it shall be done.’ And either made great joy of other.

It is important to keep in mind that, to this point, there is no textual evidence that they were sleeping together, and a great deal of evidence that it was important to Lancelot that they not cross that line. There is much less evidence that this is important to Guinevere.

So then one fateful day in May, Guinevere goes picnicing with an entourage of knights. They are captured by someone else who is in love with Guinevere, and taken back to his castle, but she manages to send a message to Lancelot. At the castle, she insists that her knights sleep in her bedchamber on the grounds that they were wounded in the battle when she was captured and need tending, but truly she wants them there to keep her captor from raping her. 

Lancelot arrives to rescue her, and the person who kidnapped her agrees to give her back in the morning. She tells Lancelot to visit her room in the night. He climbs up to her window, which is barred. They have a heartfelt reunion and she says she wishes he could come in to her. He acquiesces and breaks the bars to get into her room, cutting his hand to the bone to do so. Despite the profusely bleeding wound and the ten other men sleeping in the room, they at last do sleep together, in this passionate blood covered consummation. He sneaks back out and replaces the bars.

In the morning, the man who kidnapped Guinevere comes in and sees blood all over the bed. He accuses her of being unfaithful to the king, saying she lay with one of the knights who had been sleeping in her room. She denies it, but it is very clear that she did sleep with someone who was bleeding. 

Lancelot says he will fight to defend her from this accusation, which is right and proper because he is her champion. In this story people take trial by combat and oaths before God very seriously, especially Lancelot. He really does try. So he swears an oath that he will prove with his life that Guinevere did not sleep with one of the wounded knights who lay in her room. This of course is TRUE, but only on a technicality. Lancelot, having slept with her himself the night before, is also the one who defends her honor after. I love this story so much. 

Instead of fighting him, the kidnapper takes Lancelot captive. In captivity he encounters ANOTHER damsel who insists that sleep with her in order for her to help him. He refuses, still faithful in his heart to Guinevere. Eventually she settles for him holding and kissing her, which is not across the line of appropriateness apparently, giving us some idea of where that line is drawn. Anyway, Lancelot gets out, fights for Guinevere and wins. There are indications that he feels like he barely dodged a devine bullet. 

Guinevere and Lancelot return to Camelot. Finally the rumors about them are true, the deed has been done, but of course nothing appears particularly different as there were already rumors about them. Two knights, Mordred and Agravaine, who have been intriguing against Arthur already, go and tell Arthur that Guinevere is being untrue to him. Here is his response: 

‘If it be so,’ said the King, ‘wit you well, he is none other; but I would be loath to begin such a thing but I might have proofs of it. For Sir Lancelot is a hardy knight, and all ye know that he is the best knight among us all; and but if he be taken with the deed he will fight with him that bringeth up the noise, and I know no knight that is able to match him. Therefore, and it be sooth as ye say, I would that he were taken with the deed.’ For as the French book saith, the King was full loath that such a noise should be upon Sir Lancelot and his queen. For the King had a deeming of it; but he would not hear thereof, for Sir Lancelot had done so much for him and for the Queen so many times that, wit you well, the King loved him passingly well.

Arthur says he will not hear of this without proof, because if Lancelot is accused and allowed to fight he would beat anyone. And, it is said that Arthur had some idea of the affair, but would not credit it because Lancelot had done so much for him and Guinevere, and he loved Lancelot greatly. 

So, one night when the king is away hunting, the two accusers contrive to catch them in the act, with a group of twelve armed knights. They do find Lancelot in Guinevere’s chamber, but the text is notably, pointedly vague about whether they are actually in bed. In any case, Lancelot asks for a trial. The knights say no, they have caught him and so may kill him. He is Lancelot, so he kills all of them instead, save one (Mordred) whom he leaves wounded. Lancelot flees, intending to return to rescue Guinevere and take her to his own castle to protect her from Arthur’s wrath. He maintains her innocence, and still intends that they will all reconcile.

Guinevere is to be burned at the stake (normal in this situation). Lancelot rescues her from the burning at the last moment, killing a number of knights of the round table. Arthur seems to blame the accusers more than Guinevere and Lancelot (for good reason; keep in mind that the romance is a subplot, there is a great deal of political intrigue going on.) Now a war will begin, whether anyone wants it or not, because of the people Lancelot killed. Lancelot takes Guinevere to his own castle. Battle lines are drawn, and Lancelot and Arthur confront each other in the fighting:

And ever was King Arthur about Sir Lancelot to have slain him, and ever Sir Lancelot suffered him and would not strike again. So Sir Bors encountered with King Arthur; and Sir Bors smote him, and so he alit and drew his sword and said to Sir Lancelot, ‘Sir, shall I make an end of this war?’—for he meant to have slain him. ‘Not so hardy,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘upon pain of thy head, that thou touch him no more! For I will never see that most noble king that made me knight neither slain nor shamed.’ And therewith Sir Lancelot alit off his horse and took up the King and horsed him again, and said thus: ‘My lord the king, for God’s love, stint this strife, for ye get here no worship and I would do my utterance. But always I forbear you, and ye nor none of yours forbear not me. And therefore, my lord, I pray you remember what I have done in many places, and now am I evil rewarded.’ So when King Arthur was on horseback he looked on Sir Lancelot; then the tears burst out of his eyes, thinking of the great courtesy that was in Sir Lancelot more than in any other man. And therewith the King rode his way and might no longer behold him, saying to himself, ‘Alas, alas, that yet this war began!’

So Arthur tries to slay Lancelot, but Lancelot, the better fighter, refuses to slay him and indeed when Arthur is unhorsed Lancelot forbids that he be slain, and gives him his own horse. Arthur weeps for the honor that is in Lancelot, and laments that the war began. 

The pope intervenes and tries to negotiate an end. Lancelot confirms that he is willing to return Guinevere to Arthur, and says he has always been willing to do this and will still defend her honor, but that he does not feel he can do so because Arthur has listened to liars and been misled, and he had more reason to take her away than the accusation of adultery - he does not trust she can be safe in that court, with things as they are. 

Eventually they do make a deal, with some assurances, and he surrenders Guinevere to the king. He kisses her openly, says that he will leave, but should she be in danger or ever again accused of being untrue, he will fight for her as he always has. He departs the court forever, to much great sorrow, and returns to his own lands. 

The war continues - eventually Mordred seizes the throne, Arthur kills him in battle but is mortally wounded himself and passes to Avalon. Following the king’s death, although her love would no longer be adulterous, Guinevere retires to a convent rather than reuniting with Lancelot. He seeks her out, and this is her reaction: 

Sir Lancelot was brought before her; then the Queen said to all those ladies, ‘Through this same man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Lancelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul health; and yet I trust through God’s grace and through His Passion of His wounds wide, that after my death I may have a sight of the blessed face of Christ Jesu, and at Doomsday to sit on His right side;* for as sinful as ever I was, now are saints in heaven. And therefore, Sir Lancelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me no more in the visage. And I command thee, on God’s behalf, that thou forsake my company; and to thy kingdom look thou turn again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I have loved thee heretofore, my heart will not serve now to see thee, for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. And therefore go thou to thy realm, and there take ye a wife and live with her with joy and bliss. And I pray thee heartily to pray for me to the everlasting Lord that I may amend my misliving.’ ‘Now, my sweet madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘would ye that I should turn again unto my country, and there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you well, that shall I never do, for I shall never be so false unto you of that I have promised. But the self* destiny that ye have taken you to, I will take me to, for the pleasure of Jesu; and ever for you I cast me specially to pray.

Rather than rejoicing in Lancelot’s presence, Guinevere laments that their love brought about the downfall of the Arthurian court, and the deaths of the knights of the round table and King Arthur. She calls upon Lancelot, by all the love that was ever between them to leave her presence, telling him to marry someone else if he wishes and see her no more. Lancelot replies that he wants no one else, and that he will respect her wishes, but will also renounce the world and join a religious order. He asks Guinevere for a final parting kiss, which she denies him. 

When Guinevere lies dying of illness, Lancelot sets out to go to her, having had a vision. She knows of his coming, and prays to die before she sees him, because she cannot bear it. She dies a half hour before he arrives, leaving instruction that he is to tend to her body, and then lay it to rest beside that of her lord King Arthur. Lancelot does this with great sorrow, and after ceases to eat or drink, and within weeks is dead himself. 

And there you have it, the love affair that doomed Camelot.

HUGE DISCLAIMER: Any and all mistakes or misinterpretations are my own. This is what I gathered, but I am not a medievalist. I am barely an interested layperson. I’m just a random fic writer who got obsessed with research for a story, and had to share this tragic mess. 

[pagesofkenna]

fantasy novel wip has officially crossed the 10k mark since i started the new draft with the new outline last month. gotten less writing done than i would have wished but when i am able to sit down to write i'm getting a lot more done than i had previously.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Sif Odile duo looping au again and I wanna be able to plot everything out more coherently but act 5 eternally looms overhead and boy I do not wanna look up

[ajdrawshq]

on the note of you not getting the best grade at DMing (but a good grade at friend!!!) did you ever get around to reading Kay's zero escape fic I don't even remember when I mentioned it but surely I mentioned it to you right did I :0

... also I have been getting a bad grade in getting back into playing rpgs I'm sory 😭

OH SHIT DID I...... I DONT THINK I HAVE..... i swear i remember u mentioning it to me at some point but i mustve just completely forgot after a while im so sorry;; maybe its somewhere in our dms.. ill check for it there after i wake up (< FOR REAL THIS TIME..) but maybe itd be easier if u sent it again just in case? thank u SO much for reminding me bc i would Not have remembered this myself,,

[emile-hides]

Behold. Son.

[regallibellbright]

Chapter Five should be ready to go sometime between tonight and the next few days, and I'm rereading things and just kicking my heels gleefully because I know what I'm foreshadowing and everyone else doesn't yet.

[racke7]

So, because of the setback to my "grand idea" that was me accidentally nerfing my own mod. I spent this morning trying to think of a way to make certain classes interesting.

Like, Necromancer can usually be interesting by using teleportation and smacking people with massively damaging AOEs.

(Which is why Spectre, where "physical damage" is almost a side-effect to your true goal of stacking up debuffs that do very little (without game-breaking mods) always comes across as frustrating to me.)

And Rogue can be fun, because there's stuff like positioning yourself for backstabs, and then also having access to lots and lots of CCs.

(Turning people into chickens who will run away, after giving them a debuff that makes them take massive damage if they try to run? Always hilarious.)

Comparatively, Knight is "run up and hit them with your sword", and Ranger is "go to a high-spot and then click-kill on the enemies".

So, trying to make those classes more interesting is... hmm...

In the end, I found something that sounded very promising for a Knight-build, where they basically boost themselves with every skill, until they get access to a very strong attack. It's still very much "hit them with the sword", but it feels like there could be a bit of a dynamic involved.

The same mod-author had also created a Ranger-mod and Rogue-mod, and those looked like they'd stack pretty well with each other (a lot of "cause Bleed" and "if enemy is Bleeding, then" type of skills).

But then I, of course, got distracted.

And created an entire new Necromancer-mod from scratch.

I have no idea if it's even remotely "balanced" or whatever, because I just grabbed a few Hydro-skills and said "you do physical damage now". Which was... a very long and involved process. Especially to switch the skill-animations for other skill-animations.

But the end result was me having a bunch of Necro-skills that are purely damaging, causes bleed/decay/cripple, and doesn't come attached with all of the unnecessary bells-and-whistles of Odinblade that always seems to annoy me.

I'm... probably going to publish it once I've done some actual vague play-testing, and maybe one day I'll even be able to figure out how to get the fuckers to actually sell the damn spells.

(For now, I just craft them by combining "random bits of junk" with "necromancer books", because that usually makes it compatible with everything else.)

[complainblogforthevoid]

I've finally figured out an argument that convinces coding tech-bros that AI art is bad.

Got into a discussion today (actually a discussion, we were both very reasonable and calm even through I felt like committing violence) with a tech-bro-coded lady who claimed that people use AI in coding all the time so she didn't see why it mattered if people used AI in art.

Obviously I repressed the surge of violence because that would accomplish nothing. Plus, this lady is very articulate, the type who makes claims and you sit there thinking no that's wrong it must be but she said it so well you're kind of just waffling going but, no, wait-- so I knew I had to get this right if I was gonna come out of this unscathed.

The usual arguments about it being about the soul of it and creation fell flat, in fact she was adamant that anyone who believed that was in fact looking down at coding as an art form as she insisted it is. Which, sure, you can totally express yourself through coding. There's a lot more nuance as to the differences but clearly I was not going to win this one.

The other people I was with (literally 8 people anti-ai against her, but you can't change the mind of someone who doesn't want to listen and she just kept accusing us of devaluing coding as an art) took over for I kid you not 15 minutes while I tried desperately to come up with a clear and articulate way to explain the difference to her. They tried so many reasonable arguments, coding being for a function ("what, art doesn't serve a function?") coding being many discrete building blocks that you put together differently, and the AI simply provides the blocks and you put it together yourself ("isn't that what prompt building is") that it's bad for the environment ("but not if it's used for capitalism, hm?" "Yeah literally that's how capitalism works it doesn't care about the environment" she didn't like that response)

But I finally got it.

And the answer is: It's not about what you do, it's about what you claim to be.

Imagine that someone asks an AI to write a code and, by some miracle, it works perfectly without them having to tweak it---which is great because they couldn't tell you what a single solitary thing in that code means.

Now imagine this person, with their code that they don't know how it works, goes and applies to be a coder somewhere, presenting this AI code as proof that they're qualified.

Should they be hired?

She was horrified, of course. Of course they shouldn't be. They're not qualified. They can't actually code, and even if by some miracle they did have an AI successfully write a flawless code for every issue they came across that wouldn't be their code, you could hire any shmuck on the street to do that, no reason to pay someone like they're creating something.

When actual engineers use AI what they do is get some kind of base, which they then go though and check for problems and then if they find any they fix them, and add on to the base code with their own knowledge instead of just trying different prompt after prompt until they randomly come across one that works.

People who generate code like this don't usually call themselves engineers. They're people who needed a bit of code and didn't have the knowledge to generate it, and so used a resource.

And there you go. There are people who have none of the skills of artists, they don't practice, they don't create for themselves. When they feed the prompt to the AI they then don't just use the resulting image as a reference point for their own personal masterpiece, and if they don't like it they don't have the skills to change it---they simply try another prompt, and do that until they get something they like.

These people are calling themselves artists.

Not only that, these people are bringing the AI generated thing to interviews, and they are getting hired, leaving people who slave over their craft out of the job.

And that is the difference, for the tech bros who think AI art isn't a big deal.

[dduane]

i cant belive that you of all people are at risk of homelessness >:(

homelessness isnt a problem that should exist in general, but you, specifically, should have like a million dollars from the star trek novels alone

(chuckle) Wouldn't that be lovely! (And it's kind of you to be thinking that way.)

But alas, that's not how it works.

When you're working in/for other licensed universes—which is always on a work-for-hire basis—the only really significant payment(s) you're likely to see will happen when you've turned in a given book and it's been formally accepted. And even then, the payment's rarely going to be higher than low-to-mid five figures... which (after your literary agent gets their cut, and after your taxes on the income get paid) won't take you very far even in a single year, let alone the years that follow.

If you're very lucky in your publisher, or have a very good agent—which I do—you may even manage to get some royalties on such a novel. But they'll be at the low end of the scale—maybe 2-3% of the cover price. (Bearing in mind that even for original novels in one's own universe, an author rarely gets more than 8-10% of a given book's cover price in royalties.) And when the book goes out of print, the royalties stop.

So just because the owner of the IP makes a lot of money off it, doesn't mean that any significant amount of it necessarily trickles down to the writer. (sigh) Nor does the fact that a book is good, or the writer is good, or both, make any significant difference in this branch of mathematics. Eventually, pretty much inevitably, sooner or later sales of a book drop off and the publisher lets it go out of print.

(shrug) It's not like I didn't know this was eventually going to happen when I wrote my Star Trek work. I did that because I loved Trek (and still do), and I was sure I could write a better Trek novel than anyone else had up until that point. (And maybe that was even true. Who knows.) To have done the work was the thing that primarily mattered.

But let this be a reminder to folks that only a low percentage of writers make enough from their writing alone to live on: and that something like 90% of writers at times live at or near the poverty line and sometimes slip below it. ...And for all of us, even for strong writers who seem moderately successful and have other income streams, bare patches happen: times when publishers don't pay (for example, I still haven't been paid anything for Disney/Marvel's reissue of my Spider-Man books), times when you can't work, or times when accident or illness or other unexpected circumstance eats the cash you've stashed away to serve as a cushion.

This is not a safe lifestyle. With talent and luck and endless slogging away at/over the writing mechanism of your choice, and with the support of your readers (whom I'm very much thinking of at the moment!—and thanks again to the Ebooks Direct customers and Ko-Fi friends who just now saved our butts), it can be survived. Which, from day to day, @petermorwood and I do our best to keep on doing.

...In any case: people who even at this end of time can say things about my work such as you did at the top of this, make me feel like about a million dollars. 🙂 (And since today I have both an upper respiratory infection and laryngitis, that's quite a trick!) ...So thanks.

ETA: for those curious, to deal with local physical issues I am now making this chicken soup, which—whether or not it has any actual therapeutic benefit—is still going to be very nice. ...It annoys the shit out of me that I have to leave out the onions and garlic, which would quickly trigger my IBS and subject me to an entirely different level of pain; but such is life. We've got all the other ingredients on hand sans the fresh turmeric, and if there's one thing this soup's short on, it's chilies. Which around here, believe me, is a deficiency that Peter's well positioned to remedy. :)

[xyywrites]

Writing Advice I’ve Received

(In no particular order)

1. “You can’t edit a blank page.”

Yes, you can't. Sometimes it's hard to get the words out but even if it's crap get it out. Produce something into existence, then fix it. Who won't know what to fix if you've not written anything yet. Get those words out on the damn paper.

2. “Show, don’t tell—except when you should tell.”

I mean, this one takes time to figure out. When exactly should you skip the showing and just tell. Hit and trial guys. And then there's always book reviewers who'll tell-you-like-it-is. I don't think this is black and while. Only show or only tell. Maybe it lies in a gray area sometimes. The Goldilocks point where your narration hits just right.

3. “Write the book you want to read.”

This was one of the reasons I started writing. When you so desperately need to read a book with that vibe, that aesthetic and those specific character troupes in such a setting... You're like fuck it. I'll write it myself. How hard can it be?

Spoiler Alert: it will destroy you and your self esteem. Good luck!

4. “Don’t compare your first draft to someone else’s final draft.”

I've seen many versions of this explained through memes. One of them I remember is: it's like you're judging your raw materials (the batter) with someone's 3 tier cake. And that is being blatantly unfair to yourself.

5. “Make your characters want something, even if it’s just a glass of water.”

We all have motivations, wants, desires. So do your characters. A character without desire feels dry, flat and uninteresting.

6. “The best way to improve your writing is to read more than you write.”

Reading other authors’ work, especially those whose writing you admire, teaches you things that can’t be learned through theory or workshops alone. You’ll pick up on pacing, voice, structure, and character troupes. If you're like me you'd start noticing a trend. Or cliche lines that are repeatedly used.

7. “Your first draft is just you telling yourself the story.”

Write for you this means. For you. You wanted this story. It's for you to explore the plot, the characters, the world. It’s your chance to get everything down and see where it leads, without worrying about perfection.

8. “Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.”

This is one of Stephen King’s rules of writing, and it’s a brilliant one. When you’re drafting, don’t worry about anyone else reading your work. It’s your time to be raw and experimental. But when it comes to revising, open that door—let others in for feedback, because the revision process is where the magic happens.

That's it. My limited knowledge presented to you. You must've heard of many of these already. But just in case.... 💛

[himbosandhardwear]

Steve is rifling through Eddie's collection of magazines, while he's waiting on Eddie and Wayne to get done fixing the dryer(Wayne's fixing, Eddie's getting in the way it sounds like), when he realizes how insane the assortment is; Heavy Metal, Car and Driver, Rolling Stone, National Geographic, OMNI, MAD, even a copy of Good Housekeeping. It's all so Eddie though, to have so many varying interests. He's a little jealous, if he's being honest with himself.

"You have a lot of stuff," he comments when Eddie comes back, closing the copy of Rolling Stone.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, let me just..." He starts kicking a pile of clothes under the bed.

Steve huffs a laugh. "No, I meant you have a lot of interests." He waves the magazine. "Hobbies and stuff."

Eddie nods, continues to shove piles of stuff under the bed anyway. "I guess, yeah. I tend to jump from thing to thing though. Last night it was painting miniatures, tonight it could be writing a song. I don't really get a say in which one. Oh, nice, I've been looking for this," he says, holding up a random T-shirt.

He watches Eddie get distracted by the new discovery and leave the rest of the pile where it's at, smiling to himself as Eddie goes on a tangent about merch vendors at concerts being the real enemy of the people.

"How do you know what you like?" Steve inadvertently blurts out during a gap in Eddie's tale.

He turns toward Steve. "What do you mean?"

What does he mean? "I guess... It's just, I like cars and sports and girls. That's, like, kind of it. And since I started being friends with Henderson and Robin and you I've figured out that's, like, the most basic shit a guy could be into. Level One Dude Interests. So, I guess I just want to know how you find other things? And how will I know if I'm interested?"

"Hmm." He frowns softly. "I've never had to think about it before. I kinda just...fall into things. I like it or I don't."

"Okay, but what's it feel like?"

Eddie puts the shirt down, forgotten again in a moment, and sits. "What does it feel like when you think about cars and sports and girls?"

Steve really thinks about it. Nothing is as consuming as when he was younger, but he does remember a vague sense of excitement, a feeling of connection with the people he surrounded himself with, who shared his interests. But he hasn't felt that in a while. Maybe he wasn't as into those things as he thought, was only into the connection.

"You're having very deep thoughts over there," Eddie points out with a grin.

"Shut up." He grins back. "I think maybe I don't actually know what it feels like to like something because I like it, not just because everyone else likes it. You know what I mean?"

"Well, yes but no." He waves both hands to indicate his person and also the chaos of the room around them.

"See? This is why I'm asking you. If anyone can help me figure out what I like it's you."

Eddie slaps both hands together and rubs. "A project! Excellent idea!"

Wasn't his idea but sure.

"First we have to get you exposure to new things. Movies, TV, music, culture. Then we'll rate how you feel about each demographic. Your music taste is already improving so that's good. Movies, I'm thinking 12 Angry Men to start. Food? Authentic Mexican. We're gonna get you excited about shit!" He seems excited enough for the both of them, which is great. "Excitement is key! You want enthusiasm, yearning even. Your interests should consume your every waking thought. When I'm consuming a new hobby, I'm focused like a shark, I'm obsessed. I go to bed thinking about it and wake up thinking about it. Excited to get back to whatever it is. I wanna talk about it, share it with other people. Complete and total immersion. You wanna marry that interest. You know what I mean?"

Steve blinks at him, stunned into silence. Eddie's just described how Steve feels about him...

Oh.

Oh.