#stories are still worth reading even if they aren't finished and never will be

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[littledata]

what are these "best fics youve ever read that barely have any hits" you mentioned? can you give us a top 5 or sonething?

Oh God, you've really shamed me here because I read a LOT of random fics from fandoms I'm not even part of and the stories I was referring to largely come from there.

However, in the interest of practising what I preach, I sat down today and read a bunch of Warrior Nun fics I'd never read before so I could rec you some. To be totally clear, these aren't necessarily going to have "hardly any hits" but are fics that I think could use more love in general.

In no particular order:

I was seeing black and white (and now I'm living in color) by gayestcatra - 1281 words, a beautifully soft fic set in Switzerland with gorgeous description. By the same author I also enjoyed (your life was) my life's best part, an angsty Mary/Shannon exploring Mary's (heartbreaking) grief after Shannon's death.

Cat’s Cradle security checkpoint logs by @jtl07 - 518 words, have I raved enough on tumblr yet about how much I love their writing? No? Oh okay I'll do it again then. JT is one of my favourite writers in the fandom and I love this series of fics they did giving creative looks into the characters - this particular one is the contents of their bags but the whole series is worth checking out (and everything else they write too, obviously).

Lauds by @sisterdivinium - 3152 words, Mother Superion/Jillian Salvius. WE LOVE A RAREPAIR. Gorgeously written fic where you feel the weight of every single action. The author has a TON of fics if you liked this one too.

you're my best friend (in a world we must defend) by @daisychainsandbowties - 3980 words, avatrice and Pokemon. Beatrice's characterisation in this drives me insane. I MUST know more. If you know nothing about pokemon here's your primer: they're funny little guys you catch and make fight, exactly like the Catholic church did to Ava. There, now you've got no excuse not to read it.

Dead People Don't Shiver by waterintheshadows - 2068 words, avatrice soulmate AU set in a morgue FUCK YEAH. This is the kind of shit I live for. Great concept, great execution.

Where The River Bends by @itchyouchyz - 100,750 words, avatrice 1960s midwife AU. Full disclosure - it's 100k - I haven't finished it yet. But I LOVE what I've read so far, tender and lovely. Check the tags for trigger warnings on this one!

keep me in your mirror (but don't take your eyes off the road) by minutetuna - 26,343 words, avatrice season 2 road trip au. It made me feel this precise emotion: hnnnnnnghhhhh. There is a particular style of writing which is just bouncy and pacy and still draws you into every single emotion and this author has it in spades. LOVE.

This was so much fun! If anyone else wants to hit me up with some recs I'd love to hear them - even if (especially if) they're your fics. It's a long weekend, might as well spend it reading fanfiction.

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. uh oh, i'm falling in love

A/N: Hello!!! I said I was gonna write and post this story ages ago and I am so sorry for how long this took!! But now I've finally posted it!!! And chapter 2 is almost finished so look out for that one!! I super hope you enjoy this series and that it was worth the wait!!!!

Pairing(s): Lancelot x GN!Tristan's Twin!Reader (No pronouns specified and I never specify whether they're identical or not, that's completely up to you!)

Summary: The King of Liones throws a party and among all the socializing, Lancelot and (Y/N) decide to spend their time breaking a few rules.

Tags: Alcohol Consumption, Underage Drinking, Meliodas, Fluff, Drunkenness (Is that a word??)

Word Count: 3,088

Song Inspiration: Labyrinth By Taylor Swift

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Author Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

~*~

You lean back against the cold stone wall behind you, sighing softly. You can feel the chill of it on your back through the thin fabric of your tunic, but you don't really care much. You’re a bit overheated from the partially crowded dining hall you had been in just a few minutes earlier and you really prefer it much more out here than back in there at the moment.

Nearly everyone you know is there. All four apocalypse knights as well as all their friends, Hendy and Dreyfus, mom and dad, Aunt Margaret and Uncle Gil. It’s a celebration of sorts. It’s someone’s birthday, one of the knights that isn’t Tris or Lance, though you’re not sure which one. Not that your father really needs much of a reason to throw a party anyways, but it is a nice sentiment at least.

It's not that you don't enjoy having fun with everyone, you do, but despite knowing every single person in that room, most of them aren't really your friends. Not including family, there’s only one person in there that you’re close to and by the time everyone had finished eating and scattered into different groups and conversations, you were the only person left by yourself, floundering to figure out what to do next. And so, you came outside to get some air.

"What are you doing now?" A voice says from beside you, the person sounding exasperated.

You turn to the right and crane your neck up towards the doorway leading from the dining hall to the balcony, your (Y/E/C) eyes locking with bright red ones. Your face flushes and you look away, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of your neck sheepishly.

"...sitting outside?" You ask uncertainly.

Lancelot sighs before he's sitting down next to you, so close that his shoulder is touching yours. You suppress a shiver at the warmth he radiates and loosen your hold on your knees, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. You mimic his sitting position, letting your leg touch his as well, and try your best not to think of your reason for doing so.

"(Y/N), you can be friends with them, too. Friendship isn't exclusive, you know." He points out for probably the millionth time in your guys' friendship.

"I know that, Lan, but you've never managed to succeed much in making friends in the past besides me and Tris, especially not an entire group of them, and I really don't wanna get in the way of that. You deserve to just have a group of friends without any interruptions." You tell him with confidence, even though you know it doesn't make much sense in the long run.

"And that wouldn't change just because you are a part of that group. You're my friend, too, my best friend, whether you're friends with the rest of them or not." He tells you, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you force yourself to keep looking away from him for just a little longer.

"Well, still. The five of you guys have a very unique bond and I'm not gonna take the chance of getting in the way of that." You say matter-of-factly.

Your best friend snorts. "Is that the same excuse you use with your brother? Cause I know you have this same argument with him just as much as you do with me."

You groan, throwing your head back and letting it hit the wall, causing a dull ache that you ignore. "Can we not talk about this right now, please?" You finally look at him, your eyes pleading for him to switch topics.

His expression softens as he looks at you and he nods. "Fine. Instead, let's drink." He gets a little grin on his face that's similar to an expression you'd seen on his father's face plenty of times, but at the same time, it's somehow still just all Lancelot. He holds up a dark green bottle and two chalices which had been on the other side of him, out of your line of sight.

You were glad for the conversation change and it was your turn to snort. "What did you sneak away this time?" You ask him knowingly.

He sits up a little straighter rather than slouching against the wall and places the chalices between his legs in front of him. "I have absolutely no idea but I snatched it from one of the castle guards. Heard him bragging about how good it was to one of his buddies, so you know, I thought you and I could test it out just to be sure he wasn't lying." He smirks as he opens up the bottle and starts pouring some for each of you.

You feel a slight flutter in your chest at the thought of him specifically wanting to share it with you and you stay quiet as you inspect the liquid in the chalice he hands you. The alcohol is a light pink color, almost translucent, and the first thing you can think of to compare it to, as random as it is, is Isolde's hair. Maybe a little darker, though. It's pretty. And not at all like any alcohol you'd ever seen or heard of before.

"You sure this is safe to drink?" You ask him sceptically as you turn your face towards him, though your eyes stay on your drink. "This isn't gonna turn out to actually be poison or anything, right?"

​​​​​​You bite your lip as you hear him let out that arrogant chuckle of his under his breath. "No, it's not poison, (Y/N). Now, c'mon, are we drinking or what?" He holds his chalice out and looks at you expectantly.

You shake your worry away and look at him with a small grin, tapping your chalice against his with a soft clink before you both take your first sip. Your eyes widen as the taste hits your tongue. It's sweet, with a slightly bitter undertone, and a deep burn as it slips down your throat that isn't unpleasant and definitely wouldn't be expected based on how sweet it is.

"Damn." Lancelot mutters appreciatively against the lip of his cup.

"Agreed." You mumble before taking a deeper gulp and enjoying it, closing your eyes and humming.

You pull your chalice away from your lips, intent on savoring what's left in it since it's your first time trying it, but Lancelot is gradually relaxing more against your side and the feel of his body still touching yours feels so much nicer than it should and you guys have an entire bottle to yourself and suddenly savoring your drink is the last thing on your mind as you shrug your shoulders and chug the rest of it down, sighing softly at the sweetness of it.

You relish in the taste for a few moments longer before grabbing the bottle from its spot in between Lance’s legs and refilling your chalice, though you misjudge and almost spill some of it over the rim of the cup. You giggle softly at yourself. You're quickly starting to realize that whatever this stuff is, it works fast, but you don't really mind.

"Hey, don't spill any of that, I only got one bottle this time and I don't wanna waste any of it." The boy beside you says sternly and at his words, you put every ounce of your focus into not spilling a single drop of alcohol until your chalice is filled and you hold the bottle out in his general direction.

He takes it from you and you take a long drink, sighing softly in content and slouching back against the wall, allowing your head to tip to the side and land on Lancelot's shoulder. He stiffens slightly beside you even as he leans his head against yours and you wonder if it’s the alcohol. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you have a fleeting thought that it’s strange for you to be so physically close with him, but it was gone as quick as it had come.

It seems that Lancelot's mind, however, lingers on it a little longer. "What are you doing?" He asks you softly, his voice almost a whisper and his words slightly slurring already.

"I'm relaxing." You state like it's obvious, noticing the same slur in your own voice. You take another drink as your eyes close before continuing. "Your shoulder is a really comfy pillow. And you're so warm." You find yourself leaning further into him as the cold wind blows against your mostly uncovered arms.

"(Y/N/N), people could walk right over here and see us like this." He says in that same soft tone, some emotion in his voice that you can't quite place in your current state of mind.

"So what?" You slur, finishing off your second drink. "'S not like we're doin' 'nything. Don' worry 'bout it, Lancey." The nickname you hadn't called him since you were nine slipped out without you asking it to, but thankfully, he doesn't acknowledge it.

You hear him sigh and you open your eyes to see him refilling his own drink and then yours, the bottle now empty. As you bring the chalice to your lips once more, you hear him speak so quietly that you're certain his words are only meant for his own ears, not yours.

"What am I going to do with you, huh?" The question is asked with a voice full of affection and you can't help but smile.

"Ya know, gettin' back to our rooms is gonna be a pain in the ass." You point out. "Next time, you gotta try an' find out how strong the stuff is before we drink it."

"Ah, shit." He curses and you snicker.

"Mmmm, maybe we can jus' sleep righ' here." You suggest, seriously considering it.

He lifts his head off of yours and you can't help but pout slightly as he starts shifting beside you. "We can't jus' sleep here, (Y/N/N). We gotta try and get to our actual beds." He reasons.

You groan as you sit up. "Ugh, why do you gotta be right?" You mumble.

He laughs softly as he sits up, leaning over your legs to nestle the empty bottle and now once again empty chalices into the corner of the balcony beside you. Seeing the action suddenly makes you wonder how he had even snuck any of it onto the balcony in the first place, but you're quickly distracted as Lancelot stands up.

He wobbles slightly as he does, reaching a hand out to steady himself with the wall, then he reaches a hand down to you. You grab it and allow him to help you stand, both of you taking a moment to gather your bearings and get used to standing. The world around you is wobbly and keeps going out of focus, but you have no choice but to force your vision to stay as clear as possible, as you will now have to walk quite a bit before you can get off of your feet again.

Simultaneously, you both step through the doorway and into the dining hall slowly and you squint at the brighter lighting, blinking quickly. "Here goes nothin'." Lancelot says quietly, and you both start making your way across the room as fast as your alcohol-infused brains will allow without either of you falling flat on your face. You manage to avoid catching the attention of anyone else in the room until about halfway to the doors leading to the hallway.

"Everything okay, (Y/N)?" Your dad calls from behind you and you freeze. Neither of you dare turn around, knowing that if you do, he'll immediately know what you and the blonde next to you have been doing. From your slow, uncertain steps to the bright flush that you just know is covering your face, your drunkenness would be completely obvious, and you know Lancelot is in a similar state.

You try to force your voice into some semblance of normal, trying to keep from slurring. "Yeah, F-Father, 'im fine." You tell him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lancelot nod his head in agreement with your statement.

Your dad gives a small hum as you blink and suddenly he's right beside you. Your eyes widen and you hear Lancelot choke before trying to cover it up with a cough. Your dad's expression is the same as always, just a casual, neutral expression that gives away none of his actual thoughts. However, in one of his hands is a bottle, and in his other is two empty chalices. None of the items ever had any special markings. Those could be any two chalices. That could be any old bottle of alcohol. But knowing your father, you know for a fact that they're the exact items that you and Lance had just left behind on the balcony.

You internally curse as you give your father an uncertain and sheepish grin. Your dad doesn't say anything else or react at all at first, but then he adjusts his hold on the chalices so that he can hold the bottle with the same hand as well, leaving one of his hands free. He suddenly gives his signature grin and his hand pats your back. It would've been a perfectly normal gesture except his hand comes down a little more forcefully than normal, causing you to stumble forward and almost fall on your face.

"Well, that's good! Go rest up, 'kay? We got a big day tomorrow!" He starts walking away but stops to do the same back patting move on Lancelot before he's moved across the room to do something else.

You and Lancelot turn to look at each other with wide eyes before you both turn forward and move as quickly as you can to get out of the room and into the hallway. Once the doors to the dining hall close behind you, you loop your arm with his without much thought to it, but you end up needing the support anyways as the two of you stumble through the halls.

Once you make it to your door, Lancelot starts to pull his arm away from yours, but you're quick to latch onto it again. "You gotta help me get to my bed." You whine softly, not caring much how you sound at this point.

He chuckles softly and the sound fills you up with a slight giddiness. "'Kay, fine." He says, pushing your doors open.

You both stumble into the room as the closing of the doors leave you in the very dim lighting of your bed chambers. You walk further into the room before your foot hits the corner of the long rug across the floor and you trip, falling forward. You yelp as you hit the ground and you hear a curse from beside you. You realize that you were still holding onto Lancelot's arm and had ended up dragging him down with you.

"'M sorry." You mumble quietly.

"'S fine." He reassures me.

You realize that you should probably get up now, but you're starting to get sleepy and your carpet is soft and you feel yourself sagging more into it. You look beside you to see Lancelot flipping over onto his back.

"Floor's comfy." He says softly.

You hum your agreement and after a moment of hesitation, you roll over and snuggle right up to him, your head going onto his shoulder and your arm throwing itself loosely over his chest and waist.

He gasps softly, freezing up, and you think for a moment that maybe you shouldn't have just done that. You're not really sure why you did it in the first place. Ever since laying your head on his shoulder earlier on, you had wondered what it would be like to snuggle all the way into his side, what it would be like to maybe even have his arms completely wrapped around you. You refuse to admit it right in this moment, but you’ve been wondering these types of things for awhile now, despite knowing you probably shouldn't. He’s your childhood best friend, you should see him as a brother, not as a potential romantic connection. But deep down you know that these feelings for him are inevitable considering you’ve had them for years. And so, when you saw him just laying there, you couldn't help yourself. It was like an instinct.

But now you’re wondering if he's been uncomfortable with you being all over him as you recall the way he stiffened earlier and the way he questioned your actions. You push away from him, opening your mouth and getting ready to apologize, when he suddenly beats you to it.

"No, wait-" His voice is suddenly filled with a strange sense of panic as his arm quickly curls around you and pulls you back against him, your head coming to rest on his chest this time, though neither of you voice any complaints. Your arm goes back around his torso as his stays curled around your waist. "Stay, please." He says in a tone of voice that even you very rarely hear from him. It’s pleading, vulnerable. Almost afraid, in a way. Of what, you aren't quite sure. But you aren't going to question him about it, not sure you'd even get an answer if you did.

"Okay." You try your best to pronounce the whole word, feeling it important to do so. "'M here." You say, trying your best to reassure whatever fears are currently nestled into that strange brain of his.

He suddenly turns onto his side and wraps his other arm around you as well, pulling you closer, your face in his chest and his face in your hair. The motion was quick, like he was in a hurry to do it. You relax completely, practically melting into him and the floor under you. You're completely surrounded by him and suddenly you want nothing more than to stay here for the rest of your life.

You nuzzle your face against his shirt as your eyelids start to droop. It's been a long day and the alcohol coursing through your system hasn't added to your energy at all. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Lancelot mumbling something that sounds like, "Smells nice." As he burrows his face further into your hair.

~*~

A/N: What do y'all think?? Please let me know!! I should have chapter 2 finished soon, there's going to be both a male!reader version of it and a female!reader version of it. Pronouns still aren't specified, but there's a certain part of the chapter that differs greatly depending on gender, tbh, so if you'd like to be tagged for the next chapter, let me know which version you'd like to be tagged for!! You can also ask to be tagged for both versions if you'd like to be!!! Thank you for reading!!!

~*~

Taglist:

@kalopsiakey

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!!

[thingsidrawgohere]

I just finished my first run of DA4 and let me say- I probably got my money's worth. If one wants to view the experience via a purely mercantile lens. I found many bits of cheese and touched the insides of many angry creatures. But if one wishes to frame the thing as Art- Hell, if one wants to solely discuss it as the Fourth in a series of lore-dense, narrative RPGs, then, Cousin, We've Got Problems. Three interconnected niggling ideas that kinda all lead to the conclusion- for me, at least- that modern design practices simply do not trust the player. News flash, right?

Anyways, I think I'm going to have some thoughts on this subject to avoid other thoughts, thank you.

Full-Throated Spoilers Beyond. And a lot of them. It's long.

Idea 1: DA2 is my favorite of the series. That's not the problem; it's the setup. I know what I'm about and it's interesting characters interacting over time. Flawed characters. Abrasive, opinionated, STUPID ASS ANDERS characters. The story was scaled well for a handful of total losers and it was political. The most humanly political of all the games, I think. That's a very low bar, particularly for AAA, but it felt better to stand in a street, to be personally effected by events, than to look at a literal map of icons and notes and distant decisions as in DA3. It's important, I think, for DA to be about Being, Getting Dirty. You aren't a king. You shouldn't be.

Side Note 1: DA2 is a fucking miracle. The old gag that FO New Vegas, blessed be, was made in 18 months is trotted out to display Can-Do Attitude and DEEPLY unethical labor practices. DA2 got less time, fewer reusable assets (due to a different art style), and had to rebuild most of the engine. A. Miracle.

DA4, on the other hand, has a series of supportive, well-adapted people who have all worked very hard on themselves in therapy and know all the fucking right words to say. They chat with one another with kindness and sober fondness. In the One Instance of interpersonal friction, it is resolved with grace and speed. I find this Horrid. They fucking forgot to give these people negative traits. It's likability slurry. They experience no hard growth, hold no horseshit ideas, suffer no lingering doubts. It's not only unnatural but it's lifeless. It becomes Written. I can see the fucking author waving at me. I've got a note from my run that reads 'Rook told the man who is forcibly living inside his head "Thank you sharing that" and I want to scream.'

And that would be bad enough except the ideas are there. You've got a reluctant father story. Someone trapped between two cultures. A older man, already terrified of aging, of death, taking a Much Younger lover. That's Fucking Meat. I can see the writers straining against something but what they deliver is still person-shaped missed opportunities that repeat, that repeat, that repeat. It's So Frustrating. There's flashes of Good Writing. Of good character beats. But Also- from my notes, a character had just held her brother as he died, inexplicably for a second time, and Rook gives her a little pep talk that ends with him asking "You good?"

And the fucking woman says "I'm good" in response. She seemed to mean it.

How does one- react to that as a viewer? I told a man who wanted to be a lich more than anything to Not and he was cool with it. He never brought up being a lich again. He wasn't even upset. I let a man's city die and he's like I Get It, Bro. No Harsh Vibes. It rings hollow.

Talking over Solas' memories, collectively pulling out the meaning behind them- that was some of the best characters-interacting writing in the whole thing. And it's HOURS into the game. A shame.

Side Note 2: A lot of a loved-one death as motivation in this old refrigerator. If you get a name and one line, Oh Boy Brother, you are prolly gonna die bad. Lazy.

If I'm going to talk about Emmrich, let's talk about his romance. I honestly thought it was bugged. I Am playing through another run as a comparative but Wow. Larian and BG3 absolutely reconfigured what's acceptable in these types of story beats. This particular romance felt regressive, in a sense. Like a last minute addition. The very definition of love coins. No charisma or honest affection between the characters. Nothing allowed to percolate (more on that in a second). Just- now you are ROMANCED. Which means on the Blue Moon instance he has anything to say regarding being in a relationship, the best you can get is a 'dearest' at the end of a sentence. I was Excited by the idea of Emmrich really struggling with a May/December situation but he Doesn't. He has a few lines implying that he Could but it leads nowhere.

And they fuck in a coffin (???) and it's not even hot (!!!). Unforgivable. Double Unforgivable. I heard there was spice in this game? This is baking soda.

Related, a few lines awkwardly dodged the question of Emmrich's previous relationships and I have an inkling, without experiencing the other romances, that this is the world's largest case of gun-shy after the backlash with DA3's non-playersexual romances. This man can not be confirmed to be Anything but Into Rook, whatever they might be. There was also a throwaway line with Taash how she prefers women and that's as much as I saw of explicit preferences. I don't envy anyone trying to address the rabidity of fandom but it feels like unnecessary acrobatics.

Side Oh No: It's so bad that I'm honestly thinking of doing a fixit fic regarding the romance/character writing. And God, I can't right now. I have to finish my other project first.

Idea 2: The pacing. That's what ruins so much. There was a scene of a gnarled, fucked-up gate, torn from its hinges. And my guy says "Something Big must have torn apart that gate" all ominous, building a sense of- Nope. The very big darkspawn is standing ten feet away on the other side. I hadn't even swung the camera around the hall to see it before my guy goes "That big darkspawn must have torn apart the gate!"

Yes, I know there's an issue in open world games these days wherein devs are allergic to a player's millisecond of not knowing where to go but this feels applicable across the whole game. A problem isn't allowed to fester. It is brought to attention and then swiftly dealt with. If there's a locked door, a difficult decision, a feeling beyond Protestant determination, it will be dealt with, Post Fucking Haste. It's like the game doesn't trust the player to hold tension.

This happens not just in barks or small set pieces. Whole arcs work this way. Like Harding's longterm personal quest. She gets a handful of lines about feeling vaguely angry or perhaps thinking she Should be More angry about Lore Dump Retcon and then at her culmination, she's fighting her own anger. A vicious, hot, searing thing- and it wasn't earned. At all. There was room to telegraph this theme, bury it in the dirt to let grow roots. They didn't. One Line was given about her people pleasing tendencies And she's not really shown to be people pleasing to her own detriment. This is Chekhov's Gun in running shoes. It doesn't work. It feels like it comes out of left field.

Hell, there was a mission that was like SURVIVE IF YOU CAN and it was like- literally a long hallway. The Pacing is all Off.

Idea 3: I don't like that I must do this but DA4 doesn't understand its own flavor. The One Thing you Cannot Do is have Minrathous, the city of slaves and blood mages, seem nice. Particularly in the poor parts of town. You Cannot have the Crows be a lovely dovey band of scamps. You Cannot have the Blight be reversible. You Cannot CANNOT say "elves have it pretty good" as my Elvish Rook said with his face flaps. No. NO. You Cannot side-step the politics of this setting. These are the bones on which these characters are hung. To lessen the world is to lessen, to decomplexify them.

You know what my elf didn't hear in the town that canonically trades in bodies that look his? Knife ear. Eh to fantasy slurs but my point is no one said a cross word to my guy. The Qunari living in the town that had been warring with the Qunari for Centuries seemed totes fine. There were no alienages. There were no proper templars- even from other regions. No Mage Circles. No mage issues at all. Hardly anything whatsoever regarding the Chantry or Andrastianism, even as the game takes place in the Super Anti-Pope town. I had a literal demon-possessed man in my party and the world did not react.

I had a friend describe this Thedas as feeling smoothed out and Yeah. It feels like all the nasty bumps have been deemed undesirable. I don't know what to make of it. Is this simply taking the world in a different direction? Is it a mandate to tone down the unpleasantness, for sales? A shift in design ethos? Is this a sign of a very troubled project as it was with Andromeda?

I don't know. Is this still a Dragon Age game without its politics? There's enough here for me to wonder if Bioware is even Bioware anymore. There's a TREMENDOUS amount of work, of skill in DA4. Just Absurd. The environments are thick, Thicc. But work alone is not a virtue. Have we ship of Theseus'd so far that the people- the real people, not the logos- who have interests aligned with what made DA1 special are no longer there? Something went wrong with this project, narratively. Something I don't know how to fix without addressing basement level assumptions I'm clearly not privy to. I hope they can.

Final Thoughts: Game development is a fucking hole into which one pours one's relationships, time, and health, physical, mental both. It gives satisfaction very rarely. They shipped. In that way, huge success. It's not even, fundamentally, a 'bad game'. But it is a victim of a modern philosophy of pre-chewed ideas and player distrust. VGs are ultimately a business and, in these last few years, there's been a unimaginable devastation to the workers in the industry- even as the money flows ever upward. The desire to sell well has morphed into a NEED to sell well, even among the 'kept' studios. Big studios, Grand Dame Studios sitting on top of past critical and financial successes, been killed by their overlords recently. No one is safe. It's suddenly quite dangerous for large studios to make anything remotely niche, remotely unclear and Bioware has both Andromeda And Anthem under its belt. They're probably feeling the pinch. They needed a hit and hits, these days, are increasingly smooth. And DA4 is very smooth.

That's just my feeling on the matter. I'll see what a second run yields.

Smaller thoughts:

I don't care about the combat but that was- odd. The illusion of depth with all the skill trees and types of damage and subsystems of attack- all boiling down to a one button push. It's odd. I played rogue on PC so perhaps it's different for other classes, on console. But I pressed the button at the man and when I got a halo, I pressed another button and then pressed the first button again. No matter where I was on the skill tree, it never changed, never felt different. I don't know. It felt. Odd?

There was a Honest To God "It's quiet- Too quiet" and it just Happened. I would have pulled out every one of my teeth to avoid that. I get the jokey-okey but fuck, man.

Where's the chest hair? WHERE? Body hair? ANYTHING? Davrin has plastic chest. It's freaky.

Gloom Howler Gloom Howler Gloom Howler. Frankly, that whole storyline had a large gulg of the farcical. I laughed my ass entirely off when, upon her defeat, the Gloom Howler said "I'm sorry" and took a nap so hard that the scene wiped to 'some time later'. That was insane editing. PACING. And- naming. Gloom Howler. Gloom. Howler.

Teeth. Dear God, the teeth.

The devs were in a real pickle here, no doubt. My great sympathies. There's an Overwhelming abundance of world states that DA3 could have left on the board and I understand the balancing act between acknowledging the events of older games and staying generic enough DA4 could apply to All of them. Is Cassandra the White Divine? Or is Leliana? It's a nightmare of choices. Any of the people that Could be Divine can not be mentioned without lore issues. Who's on the throne in Orlais? Ferelden? Where's beloved so-and-so? Dorian canonically did return to Minrathous so he can 'safely' appear in game- but he fucking can't talk about Iron Bull, who may or may not be alive. Isabela canonically goes back to piracy but she can't talk about events in Kirkwall because she may not have been there for them. Oof. That's not a lot you are Allowed to acknowledge. The Poor Bastards.

Watched a braid slip off a person's shoulder, organically, as they were talking. Started at the bottom and look where we're at, technologically. And speaking on the technical, a lot of textures didn't load right. For the entire game, my guy's left shoulder armour thing had a much lower rez texture than the rest. Three hard crashes, which isn't the worst. One Wonderful mission wherein Lucanis' hair and his knives were the only bits of him to render.

I'm not touching the non-binary storyline. It was clunky, for sure, but the greatest sin was using Our words. There is canonical words for NGC/NB people in fiction and to not use them shows a fundamental distrust towards the source material and the players both. It's the linguistic version of the quest marker or the barks telling you where to go.

I still don't know how I feel about the dead Varric twist. Feels goofball but he got to hang out in his little pajamas. I wish I was in little pajamas.

Solas was pretty fucking tight but I think a lot of that was due to his VA. Something about the voice direction, in general, felt- flat? But old Solas was doing it good.

Ending. God, I get it. People are tired and satisfying endings are hard. And DLC exists, more cynically. But Hells Bells, I'm getting to the point wherein even the slideshow is annoying. Give me a fucking Ending to the Choice Game. Don't you fucking 'Spider-Man Will Return' at me, you bastard. I'm a child of fucking god.

Yes, I got the secret ending. I know. That was Also bullshit.

I feel better getting that all out of my system. Thank you for sharing that.

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 10

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker gets to spend some more one on one time with Tom, she's left wondering how it's possible that no one else can see him the way she does. Maybe, rose colored glasses aren't so bad after all.

Read the story here: prev / next

Three weeks pass without much fanfare.

Tom, as it turns out, actually does live quite a busy life as an A-list celebrity, and when he's not recording a new paid advertisement or championing photoshoots, he's flying from one state to another to do appearances on various talk shows. It's weird going so long without seeing him—weirder even when Parker thinks about how shortly they've known one another, yet how he's somehow become a part of her routine—and though they share an occasional text message here or there, for the most part she doesn't hear much from him.

She's disappointed, but also understanding, and so rather than sit around moping about the lack of Ryder in her life, Parker uses the time to focus on tackling Melissa's ever growing list of renovations in her bookstore. The last of the shelf liners get pasted, the paint is finished, half of her tacky posters are replaced with thrifted decorations and the other half are spruced up with wooden frames. She adds a coat rack by the door, buys a new welcome mat, and even gives some life back to the tattered reading chair thanks to the cleaning underworld of YouTube.

It's a lot of work, definitely more than she had originally envisioned when propositioned by the teenager, but when it's all said and done...

Well, it's worth it.

Parker has never been so in love with her shop as she is now. She comes in early to straighten her latest arrivals, and hangs around late to sweep underneath the shelves. She's always loved her little shop—it's the only thing in her life that has ever, unequivocally, been hers—but it's better now; now it's something she can take pride in showing off.

And showing off she does. The throng of customers increases throughout the weeks. Not enough to add a couple more employees to her roster, but enough to add a modicum of business to her days. Melissa has somehow enlisted half of her high school to stop through; teeny-boppers hoping to catch glimpses of Tom, and young boys hoping to gawk at the teeny-boppers. Plus, she's been dropping flyers off at Crave Cafe on the daily that seem to be drawing in tourists and retirees alike.

It's not quite success, but it's close.

And damn if it doesn't feel good.

"What are you all smiley about?" her brother asks as if specifically trying to ruin said good feeling. "You look like you're high. Are you high?"

"You look like you're high all the time," she rebuts with a bite of her sandwich.

"That's—I have small eyes, you know that. It just looks like I'm squinty and red when it's too bright," he says in that upsettingly righteous tone of his. It's an excuse she's heard before, and when Parker arches a brow at him, he huffs. "It's—blame Mom! I didn't ask to look like this."

"Aw, Mom doesn't look like an idiot, Colt. That's all you."

His features flatten, deadpan eyes. "Ha, ha, ha. That's hilarious. Soooooo hilarious that I almost forgot to laugh. Almost as hilarious as the first time you made that joke. When was that—the seventh grade?"

She smirks around her straw, and Colt sinks in his chair to cross his arms.

"I was just trying to make conversation," he says, waving his arms around at her. The movement scares off a nearby pigeon, and she watches its flight with languid eyes. "Trying to be nice, see what's new in your life or whatever, but you just had to take it too far."

"That's you being nice?"

"Always have to take it too far," he continues, ignoring her to shove some fries into his mouth. They're sitting at a picnic table outside, a sun umbrella with bright red stripes propped open above their head, the beach in the near distance swelling with the smell of saltwater and taffy, and despite his demeanor, Parker sports a blithe smile. It's a nice day; too nice to be truly bothered by her petulant child of a brother. "Next time, you can buy yourself lunch."

"Oh, hit me where it hurts," she jokes. He shakes his head at her, more fries gone, and all it takes is her offer of an onion ring for Colt to be smiling too. "I'm just happy with how works going. We finished painting, finally, and I think I hit a record for customers this week."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I think most of them still have braces, but I'm not complaining. If I hired Melissa a few months ago I might have been rich by now."

He makes a face at the mention of her employee, and Parker rolls her eyes. Only Colt would have beef with a high schooler.

"I suppose I can pop in after this, give it a look. See if it's up to par."

"I forgot you were an expert. Where'd you go to school again? Was it Carnegie Mellon? Or Pratt?"

Colt shakes his head at her teasing, but there's no love lost between the siblings. They argue about arguing about arguing. It was pretty much a natural response at this point in their lives. And though she was arguably better at it than him—Colt had a real problem with being tongue-tied, wit was certainly not his forte—every once in a while he gave as good as he got.

"Yeah, well, you're successful, I'm successful. I guess it's a family trait. Glad to hear the store is doing well, though. I was worried I'd have to pay your rent for Christmas again this year, and, well... I really didn't want to."

"Magnanimous as ever," she joked with a sip of her soda.

"What? Three years in a row? I'm not Santa Claus. I do have a life, and I've been eyeing this really nice mountain bike lately."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Since when do you mountain bike?"

"Since—well... shut up. Can't a guy have hobbies?"

"Why can't you ever have a normal hobby? One that won't end up with you in the emergency room or on my couch for three weeks."

He rolled his eyes to jab some fries in her direction. "That was once, and it was a hernia. It had nothing to do with my hobbies. Besides, you read for fun. I'm not going to take criticism from someone that can't even walk up the stairs without hurting herself."

"I can!"

"Oh, can you?"

Parker flung an onion ring at him, only to have it backfire when Colt victoriously stuffed it into his mouth. She probably should have seen that one coming. She half considered throwing her phone at him next, but it was at that moment that their waitress stopped by to check on them, and by the time she'd left Parker didn't feel so inclined for violence.

A good thing for her brother considering he quite literally needed his body functioning for work.

Speaking of, "how's work for you going? When's filming start?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Not for a bit, but I've been working on some stunt coordination with Dan and the other guys already. This sci-fi movie is really stepping it up from the last one. I've already had to learn a couple new moves."

"Like what?"

"Rolls, jumps, fighting sequences, jumping out of a moving car. That sort of thing."

Parker considered that, before frowning. Suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes at him. "What exactly is this movie about again?"

"NASA," he said around a bite of his burger, as if that explained anything. It didn't; not in the least, but before she could badger him some more he finished the last of his food with a belch. Any thoughts evaporated at the disgusting display, and she waved the air in front of her a grimace. "Now, I gotta go see a man about a goat."

"That's not the—"

He was gone before she could correct him, and when the door inside fluttered close with a fwap, Parker just settled into her seat with the shake of her head.

"Idiot," she said, stealing a sip of his beer now that he wasn't around to guard it. Colt got like a dog when it came to his food and drinks, and despite him always asking for some of her food, she rarely got the same treatment in return. Thoughtfully, she took another sip, adding, "bastard," just because it felt warranted.

She was almost done her own sandwich when the table shook beneath the buzzing of her phone.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before...

"Hello?" she mumbles through a mouth full of onion rings, phone tucked into the crevice of her shoulder as she wipes the grease off her fingers.

Only her brother would sniff out the greasiest restaurant on this side of LA for a casual lunch.

"Are you—are you eating?" a judgmental voice asks; as if he can see her slumped at the table, stuffing her face, and sucking down soda like it was nobody's business.

Parker immediately sits up straighter, swallowing the remaining food with a grimace, before lying, "no, of course not. That's rude and gross and, you know, totally not what I'm...."

Subtly, Parker glances around the patio. There's a couple sitting at her left, a family at the table on the far right, but other than that there's not a soul to be seen besides the occasional tourist trying to catch the bus. Certainly no Tom Ryder to be found spying on her from the bushes.

"Er, what's up buttercup?" she says, then immediately cringes at how overly causal that question was. What's up buttercup? she mouths to herself. "You don't—that's—what are you doing?"

The line is quiet for a moment, but she swears she can hear Tom shaking his head at her in the interim. But, when he speaks, he sounds no more scornful than normal. "I just got back from New York. Well, got back this morning, anyways. I just woke up from a nap."

"Oh, right! You were on Fallon last night."

"You watched it?" he asks, and this time, he does sound smugger than normal. Though, she supposes his usual levels of smugness was already more than the normal person. Tom Ryder really did love to brag about himself; even more, he loved when other people bragged about him.

"Don't be ridiculous," she tuts, shaking the ice in her drink as she sips it. She tries her hand at scornful as well, but it comes across teasing and light. "Even I draw the line at late night television. Melissa was talking about it this morning."

"Oh?" he hums. "And what'd she think?"

"That you looked even dreamier than usual. And then something about barking, but, honestly, I was a little too afraid to ask what that meant so do with that what you will. Was it fun?"

"I guess. Fallon isn' t so bad. The time difference is killer, though."

She hums, not having any idea what it would be like to travel back and forth across the country multiple times in a few days, but imagining that it likely did suck. "Kudos to you for being awake at all. I think I would have just slept all day, and then been awake all night, and then the cycle would continue until I died from caffeine overdose."

He laughed, and Parker chewed on her straw to keep a stupid smile from splitting across her face. "Maybe that's a reason why you're not famous."

"Right. The only reason I'm not famous," she teased, and when he snorted, she didn't bother to hide her grin. It's a good thing she wasn't at home or she might be lying on her bed, twirling some hair, and kicking her feet in the air like a lovesick idiot.

Speaking of idiots—she glanced towards the door and sighed in relief when her brother was still nowhere to be seen. It wouldn't be long, now, as he had a habit for bad timing.

Knowing this, she asked, "listen, could I call you back later? I'm out with Colt right now and I swear to god he's like a baby when I'm not paying attention to him. Unless you want to be put on speakerphone, that is."

Tom scoffed. "You ever consider getting him a babysitter?"

"He's not up to date on his vaccinations," she joked with a dramatic sigh. "And the kennel stopped taking him after he bit that other dog."

Tom laughed again, and it felt like a victory. Especially since he had called her, and here she was asking to call back later. The guilt didn't have any time to fester, however, before he was moving on. "Well, listen, I thought maybe since I was back in town that we could, er, get dinner. Have dinner, I mean, at my place."

"Oh," she said, so thrown off by the offer that she didn't really know what else to say. She quite literally hadn't stopped thinking about getting lunch with Tom on set a few weeks back; it had been so nice, so fun, to just hang out with him—no Gail, no Colt, no drunken executives or paintball warfare to distract them—just him that she had already planned on accompanying Colt onto set as often as she could manage in hopes of doing it again. She hoped the fact that he was offering meant he enjoyed it too. "Oh! Yeah, sure! That sounds great."

"Great," he echoed. "My place? After you get off work?"

"Sure," she said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically given the fact that he couldn't see her through the phone. Her thoughts drifted to work, and immediately she wondered if she could close early or talk Melissa into pulling a double. "Do you want me to bring some more books? I know you already got the role and everything, but I could bring some more recommendations for you to talk about tonight. Or you could just explain to me the plot of the movie because I'm honestly so confused about it already. Actually, I think I still have some napkins in my purse..."

She shifted through said purse, rattling through a mess of tampons, coins, bobby pins, receipts, and collection of rocks that she thought looked cute but never knew what to do with as Tom cleared his throat across the line.

"You don't need to—" he started, before sighing. As if he there was a bigger picture here that she wasn't quite seeing. Parker, too enthralled in why she had four different buttons in her purse didn't even notice. "I'll just see you later?"

"I'll text you when I get off work."

"Alright," he said. "It's a date."

And then, before Parker could question whether that was just a colloquial saying he used from time to time, a joke, or the reality of what this whole thing was going to be, Tom hung up.

She stared at the buttons in her hand, dial tone buzzing in her ear.

In perfect timing, her brother flopped into the seat across from her, and snatched a onion ring off of her plate. He swept his gaze from her plate to her phone to the buttons in her hand.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Er," she said, wondering the very same thing, before slowly dropping said phone and buttons back into her purse. "Nothing. Just... nothing."

Colt took that in, thought it through, and then pointed to her plate.

"So, uh, are you going to finish that?"

---

Parker doesn't get to give the date versus dinner conundrum much more thought over the next couple of hours due to a constant flow of customers, deliveries, and teenagers. She thinks the sudden business might be penance for taking a long lunch with her brother, made even longer when he insisted on hunting down some iced coffee after their meal, and when she does make it back to the shop Melissa is so relieved that she practically melts on her feet.

And though the teenager does agree to stick around for a double shift, Parker finds that she's too occupied to sneak out early anyway, and by the time she gets a moment to catch her breath she's already running late.

There's no time to fix her hair or grab a change of clothes, just as there's no time to do anything about the smell of old, papery books clinging to her besides drive with the windows down at a speed likely to get her a ticket. That, of course, only seems to frazzle her braids even worse than they started the day with, and by the time she's parking in Tom's driveway, she looks likes she's just finished an eighteen hour shift down at the docks.

Please let him have gone blind, she thinks while hastily taking out her braids with paper-cut laden fingers. It's a mess of tangles and knots due to her driving, however, and by the time it's straightened out she's running even more late than she originally was.

Hoping out of her car, Parker doesn't think of anything as she rushes up the steps, knocks a hasty staccato, rocking on her feet with a wayward glance down at her dirty sneakers that certainly don't belong walking on real wood floors.

Please don't throw up, she thinks next, stomach in her throat.

Please—

Any thoughts are silenced when the door swings open, and Tom Ryder is suddenly there.

She's speechless as she takes him in; dark slacks, a white tee, jean jacket with a gold chain that catches in the light, freshly clean sneakers that put her dirty ones to shame. He looks good in the way that he always does; polished and shiny, Hollywood and new, but his hair is airdried and lacking gel, his beard freshly shaved, sleep lines dotting the skin along his cheeks.

He looks good, but he also looks comfortable and soft. Natural, in a way that she's never seen him look before.

"...hi," she says dumbly.

Tom's gaze, having been taking her in the same way that she was taking him in, snaps back up to her face, and with a characteristic eyeroll and huff, he echoes, "hi. You coming in or...?"

"Oh, right."

Parker flushes but enters, and his house seems so different than the last time she was there that she cranes her neck to gander. Without people flush wall to wall she's able to see the character of the house better, taking in the hues of orange and yellow paint, the shiny brown age spots on the wooden floor, taupe pillows and white fuzzy blankets sprawled messily across the couch. ESPN is playing on mute, music drifting from the kitchen, a mess of protein powders and vitamin bottles scattered across the marble island in addition to dirty pans.

A reminder that he's a person as much as a celebrity, and Parker smiles at the thought.

"Where should I put my shoes?" she asks.

He blinks at her, already halfway back to the kitchen. "What? Just wear them."

Parker glances down at the muddy soles of her sneakers knowing just how many questionable places they've walked through, and with nothing more than a glance at the too white couch she bends to untie them. Tom rolls his eyes a second time, and she scoffs in response. "What? I'm not trying to mess up anything here. I can't even imagine what you're cleaning bill must be like."

"You're not going to mess anything up," he says. "And if you do, it doesn't matter. I have maids for that shit. You really think I clean this whole place myself?"

She tsks, imagining how nice that must be. "Ooh-la-la, look at me, I'm Tom Ryder and I have maids and—" she mimics, only to slip on the first step she takes in her socks. "Okay, that's humbling. It's like an ice skating rink in here. What kind of polish do they use? Pine sol on crack?"

"Do you really think I have the answer to that?"

"Something fancy, I bet," she continues, head on a swivel as she ambles closer. Even the ceiling looks free of cobwebs. "You should give your maids a raise. Very nice, Ryder. Very nice. Consider me impressed and a little scared of their ability."

"I'm glad you're impressed," he drones, clearly not caring in the slightest, but she wiggles her eyebrows at him anyways, and Tom bites back a smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good," he nods, pulling a wine glass down for her. "I made paella."

"You made it? I change my mind, I'm not hungry at all, " she teases, accepting the glass from him. It's a hefty pour of red wine—not necessarily her favorite—but Parker doesn't doubt it's expensive and some sort of collector's edition so she keeps that to herself. Tom seems so used to just giving people things instead of asking for their preference that she tries not to be too miffed about it.

He shoots her a deadpan look, betrayed only by the amusement in his eyes. "You think I'm going to poison you?"

"No, I think you're going to force feed me some sort of seaweed, or, like, lemon grass salad under the presumption it's good for me."

"Seaweed is good for you."

"For facials, maybe," she rebuts with a sip of wine. It is good, just dry, and Parker takes reminds herself to drink it slowly. Tom doesn't seem all too amused by her teasing, however, and she reminds herself that food seemed to be a touchy subject with him. Still, her stomach is despairingly empty, and she's thankful for the music just so he wouldn't hear it growling. "Just tell me there's some sort of meat and I'll be happy. And not, like, tofu. I don't care what PETA says that stuff tastes like cardboard."

"Are you so poor that you're eating cardboard now? That's disgusting."

"Tom Ryder thinks poor people are disgusting," she echoes with a smile, and she can tell just from the look he shoots her that he's amused. "Who should I sell that to? TMZ or Perez Hilton?"

He shakes his head at her but moves towards the patio, and with nothing else to do, she follows on socked feet. "Hilton is a tool, you'd get more money if you went to TMZ," he said, playing along. "Anyway, you don't need to worry about that. I'm not eating seaweed on a cheat day, and travel days are always cheat days. Plus, it would just be wasted on you."

It's an playful insult, and even if it wasn't it's not one she would care about, and so Parker sips her wine with an indifferent shrug as he continues.

"Anyway, I made paella. The salad is on the side."

"You made—?"

Her scathing retort comes up empty when they step out onto the patio, and Parker is met with a table flush with food. There's a large steel pan of paella in the middle, a heaping of bruschetta on the side, brussels sprouts and green beans in a beautifully printed dish on one side, a large serving of salad on the other. There are placemats, linen napkins, fancy silverware, and a bottle of chilled water in the middle.

Parker stops short.

Tom, already seated, gives her an odd look. "What?"

She knows there's a more tactful way to frame it, but the first and only thing that comes out of her mouth is a rushed question of, "is this actually a date?"

He blinks at her, before pouring himself some more wine. He's calm, collected in his movements, but his shrug is stiff. "It's dinner."

"A dinner date," she corrects.

"It's dinner," he reiterates, glancing back at her before immediately glancing away. Clearing his throat, Tom shifts in his seat to stretch an arm over the back of his chair; a catalogue worthy pose with the dark sky of LA behind him. "It's a date. What difference does it make? Have you never been on a date before or something?" he asks in a tone she can't quite place.

Teasing, but serious. Cocky, but hesitant.

Yet, Parker is too distraught to think about the paradox that is Tom Ryder, and instead throws her hands up. "Okay," she announces. "I'm leaving."

"Wait—what?" he asks, standing with a screech of his chair as Parker turns on her heel. She makes it two steps before turning back again, head feeling like a nest of squirrels as she tries to put her thoughts in order.

"I can't—Tom—honestly! I'll be back in, like, an hour. Maybe. Probably not. Is there an outlet near here? Oh, they'll all be closed. Okay, maybe two hours then. Or maybe we could just reschedule to, like, Monday night so I have time to—"

"Parker, what the fuck are you going on about?" he interrupts her derailed train of thought. It's an innocent question, well-meaning, but honestly the fact that he doesn't know pisses her off.

She gestures at herself with a wild flap of the arms.

"Look at me! Look at you!" Her jeans are ripped and tattered, cut in places where they weren't originally intended, and faded on the butt from years of use; her sweater was found at a yard sale (five dollars, but she haggled for three) and the tank-top beneath was stretched at all the wrong spots. Even her socks—why did she insist on taking off her shoes?—were mismatch shades of orange. "I can't wear this on a date! Our date! A date with you looking like that! I mean you just got back from New York! How do you look so good?"

Tom let out a sharp breath, color returning to his cheeks. "Jesus, Parker, I thought.... you look fine."

She didn't buy that for a second, and crossed her arms at him haughtily. "You're literally always telling me my outfits are awful. I could have, like, gotten a skirt or worn a dress or something, anything, other than this. Jesus! And I forgot to wash my face this morning—"

"Parker," he said again. "I don't give a fuck. I like what you're wearing."

She raised a brow. "Really? This? You like this?" she challenged, arms thrown out so he could get a better look at her ensemble. Tom's gaze flickered down then up again, and his mouth quirked at the side. She stabbed a finger at him. "Ha! See? I knew it. I look like Chucky. Or, the bride of Chucky, or whatever—I never watched those movies. The doll reminded me a little to much of our cousin, and I didn't feel like trying to unpack that."

He clipped his smile, coughing into his hand. "You look nice."

"Don't patronize me."

"Fuck, you're so annoying sometimes."

"I'm leaving."

"Alright, alright. I think the outfit is awful. You look like a scarecrow. But that's how you're always dressed, so you shouldn't change that just for a date. You could throw a stone in Hollywood and hit somebody with no sense of style. At least you dress like that because it's who you are, and not just an attempt at getting attention. There's not many people around here like that, you know; genuine," he said slowly, and although it was an insult, Parker oddly felt better at hearing it. It was less nice and complimentary and more cocky and rude, more like him. And she wouldn't want him to change that for her either. "Now, are you going to be normal? Or, you know, normal for you. I'd like to eat before the paella gets cold."

She shook her head at him with a sour look. Part of her didn't want to give in to the asshole—not when he was mocking her, and certainly not when he was showing her up on a date—but the other part of her didn't want to leave. She wanted to stick around, eat his food, laugh and talk and joke just like they were doing.

In defeat, she slinked back towards the table. Tom made a show of pulling out her chair with a smirk so cocky it could kill. "I'm not going to get salmonella or something from this am I?"

"Colt told me about how you set the kitchen on fire while trying to bake him a birthday cake," he snarked in that self-righteous way of his, sitting himself. "I'd cool it on the shit talking. You're not exactly Gordon Ramsay yourself."

"Oh my god, that was one time and it was an accident!" she cried in her own self-righteous way. He didn't buy her excuse, however, and when Tom laughed at her, she gave up. Huffing, Parker waved a hand at him impatiently. "Whatever. Just pass me the paella already. I'm starving."

---

Dinner has long since gone cold as they talked, carried inside and stuffed unceremoniously into the fridge upon Parker's worries that the food might spoil. Tom hadn't been all that concerned about it, and she suspected he likely wasn't. She doubted that he had to worry about any sort of household chores living in a place like this, but he had worked too hard on cooking it, and she was too poor to ignore it, and so under her pestering everything had been moved inside when they did. Their first bottle of wine is long forgotten as two more sit on the table between them. There's a few waters there as well; both half-drank, and dripping condensation onto their wooden coasters. They've moved from the outdoor patio to the inside living room—the couch a much more comfortable alternative, though with an arguably worse view of the twinkling LA landscape—and Tom's jacket has been shed along with his sneakers as they volley questions at one another.

Parker's enjoying the activity a little too much; carefully prying into the life that belongs to Tom Ryder, and it seems that Tom, rosy-cheeked and smiling more than she's ever seen before, is in too good of a mood to mind.

He's answered more questions about himself tonight than she thinks he ever has on any of his talk shows, and she's told more stories about her and Colt getting into trouble than is probably appropriate for a date. But neither mind the other, and as the night just gets darker around them, they've yet to get bored.

And they've discussed quite a lot of topics.

"What would it take, then, for you to shave your head for a role?" Parker muses at one point in the night with deviously arched brows. Her head is just starting to feel heavy, a sign that she's teetering past tipsy, and she makes sure not to rush the latest pour of wine he's given her as she swirls it around the glass with careless movements. "Like, you get the role of a lifetime, maybe—oh, maybe a Nicholas Sparks movie, gut-wrenching love story, that type of thing—but your character has to shave his head."

"Shave my head?" he asks, his own head heavy and propped on a crooked elbow as he thinks. "No bald cap, I'd have to shave it."

"Completely."

His head tilts left, then right, before he shakes it. "No way."

"Seriously? Not for a really good role?"

"No. A wig? Sure. Bald cap? Fine, I've done worse for roles. But there's no way in hell I'm shaving my head," he says with a laugh and a shrug. "There's just no way."

"Not even a little? Just a bit. It'll grow back."

"No fucking way! Do you know how many gigs I get just for my hair? I'd have to give up my campaign with Old Spice. I love them."

"You love Old Spice? Seriously?" she echoed, nose scrunching in disbelief, but he either hasn't heard her tone or is ignoring her judgment, and Tom takes another sip of his wine with a confident shake of the head.

"No way, not happening. My hair is everything, you know. Tom Ryder without hair is... that's ridiculous."

Parker tilts her head, squinting one eye as she tries to imagine him bald. But it's too difficult to do, which brings her to the startling realization that he's right. His hair, gorgeous no matter the color, is part of him. It'd be like seeing Taylor Swift without her red lipstick or Dwayne Johnson without his tattoos. One doesn't go without the other. Still, the idea is funny, so she pesters, "what if it was a Spielberg movie?"

That has him pausing, but only for a moment. When he shakes his head, she can't help but laugh at his dedication. "Still not worth."

"That's—Spielberg isn't worth it?" she cries. Parker doesn't pretend to know a lot about the movie industry, but even she knew which directors were worth something and which weren't. Only Tom Ryder would refuse a chance at making history for the sake of his vanity. "You're crazy."

"It's my brand," he sniffed with a laugh of his own. "It'd be bad marketing to just shave it all off. I'm not just an actor, you know. I'm also a businessman."

She's sure that's true, but Parker doesn't care for the argument, and so she thinks hard for a moment. Snapping her fingers, she tries again. "Okay, what about Tarantino? Pulp Fiction is your favorite—you said that yourself."

He made a face. "Well, yeah, it's my favorite..."

"So...?"

He glanced at her, before a hand snaked up to his head to softly rake through his hair, as if testing the worth of it. He did that a lot, a nervous tick she had noticed, and as they sat together it was messier than she'd ever seen it before; slept on, air-dried, with no gel to perfectly coif the blonde tufts. And yet, she wished he wore it like that more often. "I mean... nah. Still couldn't do it."

His answer didn't surprise her in the least, but it was still so ridiculous, that she tipped her head back to laugh at it, cheeks splitting open for the grin that came. "You're crazy. Actually psychotic, Tom. You wouldn't work with your favorite director if you had to sacrifice your hair."

"I like my hair."

"I do too, but, come on! Tarantino?"

"It's not easy to have nice hair. I've worked on it for years to get it how I like it," he said, and then as if he she was suddenly a suspect, Tom narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. "Do you not like me hair or something?"

Another absolutely ridiculous thing for him to say, and if Parker wasn't aware of how deep his insecurities ran, she would have mocked him. Instead, she gave him a patronizing smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Of course I like your hair."

"Then why are you trying to get me to chop it off?"

"Just trying to see what your limit is," she defended with her palms held up, as if she really was a suspect. He didn't buy it for a moment, but he gave up easily. Parker rolled her eyes at him. "Big baby. I'. just trying to figure out what is crossing the line in Hollywood. You get paid for acting gigs, so where's the line at what you will and won't do for a lot of money if it's required for a role?"

"Easy," he shrugged. "The line exists as shaving my head."

She blew a raspberry at him. "I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

"Well, what if—ha! okay—what if you got to work with Tarantino and made, like, a million dollars."

He blinked at her. "You think a million dollars is a lot?" he deadpanned.

Parker waved her hand at him flippantly, dismissing that comment with a disgruntled eyeroll as she adjusted on the couch. They had started with a full cushion in between them, but over the night, they had both been moving towards one another without meaning to—stars in orbit—and as she pulled her legs up underneath her, Parker's knee pressed against his.

But he didn't mind like she worried he might, and when he stretched an arm over the couch back behind her, Parker continued.

"Alright, thirty million dollars. You would do it for thirty million, wouldn't you? Rich or not rich, thirty million dollars is a lot of money."

His brow lifted higher, and she hesitated.

"...right?"

He laughed at her, bending forward to pour more wine into his glass as she smacked him on the shoulder. "Seriously? Yes, that's a lot of money. I'm not that rich."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, excuse me, Mr. Money Bags. So? Would you?"

He hummed, popping the cork off the bottle to pour out the rest of it. She waited impatiently as Tom then took a long swallow of the fresh pour, really dragging it out.

"Tom!" she whined.

"Okay, yes. If I got to work on a movie with Tarantino and got thirty million dollars, yes, I would shave my head," he finally admitted, looking both pleased at her irritation and troubled by the concept. He sat back while lifting a hand to run through his hair. She watched him tug on a few strands as if reminding himself it existed and when he caught her watching, Parker swung a hand up to hide her smile. Rolling his eyes, he tacked on, "but... it'd have to be a really good role. A starring role. You know? Not just some side character, something that is actually worth it."

"Worth more than thirty million dollars?"

"A lot more."

"You really love your hair," she said, then, as if only to be obnoxious, gave a mock gasp as she clutched a hand to her imaginary pearls. Tom spared her a look as if he knew what was about to come, but was amused by it nonetheless. "Oh my god, your hair is your superpower, isn't it? That's where you get all the swagger and rizz from."

"Rizz? You're spending too much time with Melissa," he commented blithely.

But Parker was on a run, and she wasn't about to let his sour commentary stop her, and so she continued with an air of dramatics that Hollywood would appreciate. "All this time I assumed you were a Bruce Wayne—you know, rich, sad, rich—"

"You said rich twice."

"—rude, egotistical, awful with women—"

He sat up. "Hang on a minute, awful with women?" he echoed in bewilderment, but Parker just continued as if he hadn't said anything at all.

"—the type of hero who gets his superpowers just from being, you know, insanely rich. But, really, all this time you've been like Superman. Good looking, obsessed with wearing glasses that you don't actually need, but with a real superpower. Your hair is totally your kryptonite, isn't it?"

She finally glanced at Tom, only to find him shooting her an unimpressed look. "That doesn't make any sense."

"What? Sure it does. It's what makes you so... you know, Tom Ryder."

"Are you saying my hair is the source of my power or my greatest weakness? Because kryptonite is his weakness. You know, the one thing that can kill him," he said as if it was obvious.

"Well—alright, your Achilles' heel or whatever," she threw her hands up with a huff. Of all the times that he didn't know what she was talking about, of course he would be a closeted comic book geek. "I bet if I cut it off, you would just fall over and die."

Tom rolled his eyes, setting his glass down on the table. "Do I need to hide my scissors?" he asked.

"Scared?"

"Of you? Well, yeah, I'm starting to be."

Parker laughed at his deadpan tone, and something smug curled his mouth as he laughed as well. She always knew that he was a bit of an attention whore, liking when other people were praising him and following him around like puppies, but the smug look didn't much feel like that. Instead, she was starting to get the distinct impression that Tom liked making her laugh in the same way she liked making him laugh.

Proud to be able to do it at all.

Parker bit her lip knowing that her face was flushing a deep red, both from his attention and from his jokes, and she took a moment to set aside her wine glass. The last thing she needed to do was spill some red wine on his expensive white couch, and knowing her history of spilling things that shouldn't be spilled, it was a miracle that she hadn't already done some damage.

"Do you want some more?" he asked, mistaking her reasons.

"No, I shouldn't. I still need to drive home," she said. Then, she glanced at the couch with a worried gnaw of her lip. "Besides, you may not care about this couch, but I do, and red wine is just a disaster waiting to happen."

"It's had worse."

"Oh, I'm sure, but not by me."

"You don't have to worry so much about that," Tom told her with a shrug and a gesture around them. "It's just a couch and you already know that I have maids."

"Well, yeah," she hedged. "But... it's still your stuff, and it's nice stuff, and I'm not trying to ruin it just because you can afford to replace it. Maids or not. What kind of logic is that?"

He shrugged again, utterly unconcerned. "This is, like, my third couch this year."

"What?"

"I have people over a lot," he explained as he ran a hand over the smooth material himself. "Shit happens when you're drinking. If it gets fucked up, I just get a new one."

She frowned. "Yeah, but, still... Accidents happen but I'd be furious if my friends ruined three of my couches in a year. That's just... Do you really not care when people wreck your house?"

Tom glanced at said house for a moment, gaze sweeping over the lavish furniture and expensive decorations before returning to her. He looked so innocent as he just said, "it's just stuff. Freddy and my boys are constantly fucking something up. You know how it is when I throw a party; people get drunk. I have an interior designer on speed dial to replace whatever gets ruined. You should have seen this place after my birthday last year."

"Yeah, but..."

"It's just stuff," he reiterated.

And that much was true. It was just stuff.

In one way, that was a good viewpoint of life. Things were just things, and they could easily be replaced. But as Parker sat there on the couch, feeling how comfortable and soft it was, examining the wooden pegs and beautiful details, she couldn't help but feel offended on his behalf. Things were just things, sure, but she would never go over to someone's house and not care about whether or not she ruined their things. Money or not, that was just shitty behavior.

Certainly not the behavior shared between friends. The idea that he would invite people over—friends, supposedly—that would trash his stuff without caring at all was so off baffling that she could only blink.

"I guess," she said after a moment.

As if he sensed her discomfort, Tom nudged her with his elbow, and when she blinked up at him, he was wearing a troublesome smirk. "Besides, women like my stuff."

Parker felt blood rush her face that didn't have anything to do with the wine, and his smirk widened at seeing it. She couldn't let him off that easily, however, and so she feigned disinterest. "Oh, really? They like this stuff? Hm."

"Oh, come on, it's nice. Just admit it."

"Well, I suppose the couch is okay."

He huffed, shaking his head at her. "Yeah, sure, okay. This couch was featured in Vanity Fair."

She stuck her nose up. "Oh? I don't read Vanity Fair, so I'll have to take your word on it," she continued to dig in, satisfied with the way his smirk twitched at the edges by her goading. "But I guess that's supposed to be a big deal, yeah? Not too bad, I guess."

"Not too bad?" he echoed incredulously, his earlier smugness gone, replaced by incredulity. It never ceased to amaze Parker how easy it was to push his buttons. "Come off it. It's a good couch. George Clooney has the same one in his house in Lake Como."

She poked a cushion, pinched the material between her fingers. "Hm. I would have thought he would get something... I don't know, classier."

"Classier?" he deadpanned.

"Like real leather. Or, oh, you know I read on Buzzfeed that some really rich people don't even have couches nowadays. They just stand all the time, and if they really need to sit, they have super big beanbags. Like, giant. Heard they're all the rage."

He huffed. "Fuck off."

"I mean, I'm not sure if they're in Vanity, they're kind of underground, you know," she continued, getting far too much enjoyment out of teasing Tom. He didn't seem all that amused from where he sat next to her, and she leaned closer to pinch the material of his shirt next. "And this? I mean... Tom. Seriously, I don't want to step on your stylists' toes or anything, but a white tee? Are you Kevin Bacon?"

His eyes grew wide as he swatted away her hand. "This is Armani!"

"Are you sure? Fake brands are a thing, you know. You have to check the stitching, the material, the tags. All of that. It's easy to get it wrong nowadays."

"Parker—"

"It's a whole scam. You might not be able to tell, but I have a great eye for detail. Plus, I've been getting scammed my entire life—I mean, the pink tax? What even is that?—so I'm pretty familiar with the concept."

"It's not—I'm not being scammed!" he exclaimed, swatting her other hand away as it tugged on the back of his shirt. He was fully scowling. Clearly, not pleased with her joking, and as she exploded in laughter, he lifted a brow at her crossly. "You think you're funny?"

She poked her teeth with her tongue, giggling. "I think I'm hilarious."

Tom hummed, eyes jumping over every inch of her face, and the moment his mouth curved into a devious smirk, Parker knew that he was up to something.

"Tom—"

She wasn't quick enough to get away, and all it took was for Tom to wrap an arm around her waist before she was being bodily hauled towards him as though she weighed nothing. She shrieked—never having been one for manhandling in all the years Colt forced it upon her—but despite trying to get away from him, she found herself sitting across his lap, an arm barred across her back to prevent her from going anywhere.

The same hand that was previously poking fun at the quality of his clothes was now firmly fisted into the soft material of his shirt.

"You're going to judge my clothes when you're wearing this?" he asked while pinching her sweater with his free hand. On the back patio, it hadn't seemed so out of place, but now that they were inside, surrounded by expensive bottles of wine and his collection of movie props in glass cases along the wall, it was impossible to ignore. "It's awful, Parker."

She swallowed, trying not to seem too flustered by the abrupt decrease in distance. "I got it at a yard sale."

"You should have put it out of its misery."

"Hey!" she cried, a soft punch into the hard muscle of his shoulder. He didn't seem all that surprised, and his smile crooked further as his palm spread wide against her back. "I like this sweater, jerk. It has character."

"That's what they say about ugly things in vintage stores."

She narrowed her eyes, only a hair's breadth away from him now, but refusing to let him win this argument just because he was looking at her like that, holding her, mouth coiled into a damning smile as if he could feel the way her heart was beating faster. "Just because something is ugly doesn't mean it shouldn't be loved."

He huffed. "No one actually believes that."

"Well, I do," she corrected him. "And I've had this sweater for five years, and I just so happen to love it."

"You've had the same sweater for five years?"

That's what surprised him? "Of course I have," she blinked, thrown by his surprise. "I can't afford to buy a new one every time I want to. I just... you know, take care of my stuff. Ugly or not. I mean, every once in a while I accidentally shrink something in the wash, but I do my best to make stuff last. Are you going to judge me for that too?"

It was a joke, but Parker didn't need an answer. She could tell just from the soft look in his eyes that he wasn't judging her. Just... looking at her.

The kitchen lights were off, the balcony ones too, and the only light in the room came from the fireplace and the small chandelier over the stairs. It cast glittering lights around them, highlighting everything that shined in the room—glass, picture frames, awards, props, and screens—yet somehow Parker swore that he shone brighter than all those other things; as if he was made to be in the spotlight.

At this distance, she could make out the miscolored flecks in his eyes; not just blue but golden and brown and hints of green that were always absent in his airbrushed ads. She could just make out the tired rings beneath his eyes, the crease of his mouth, the tiny curve of his nose, the wayward tufts of hair that he'd mussed wrong at one point in the night.

All a sign that he was human, he was no different than her.

Not really, anyways. Not in a way that mattered.

He blinked at her, and though Parker would never know for sure, there was something in the depth of his features that made her think he was realizing the exact same thing. And as the thought passed between them, their movements synched, and as she leaned up, he leaned down.

This kiss wasn't like the first one; that one had been hard, knocking the air out of her lungs and the thoughts from her brain in a single fell swoop. It had felt rushed; brought on by a moment of excitement and laughter, but lingering in sloppy kisses as if they were teenagers given only a moment of privacy before they would be found out by the English teacher. An absurd thought, that wasn't actually so absurd when the sound of laughter or chatter would drift up to their little patio from the party happening down below. Maybe that's exactly what they had been, just two kids pretending the rest of the world didn't exist, kissing like there wouldn't be another chance.

But this?

This one started slow. Just the gentleness of his lips on hers, the feeling of his hands slowly tugging her to his chest until there was no room left between them. It was hesitant in how her hand skated up his chest, his shoulders, and into his hair. Featherlight, as if afraid to touch, before becoming more confident. His mouth tasted like wine and rhubarb as she kissed him, the smokey flavor of a stolen cigarette chased by the berry-sweet flavor of her chapstick as he chased the delicate curve of her mouth.

Hesitant became familiar as the kiss evolved, nervous became excited as they realized they weren't going to be interrupted or chased away. The kiss turned harder as he shifted their bodies on the couch, pillows knocked to the floor as they became a jumble of laughter, and just as her skin had started to feel like it was on fire, hands nothing but a jumbled mess of firing neurons as they skated around the back of his neck, catching on his gold chain, before a gentle tug on his locks as all thoughts ceased to make sense—

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the...

Thoughts came back, and the pair froze with matching looks of horror.

Tom blinked at her with wide blown eyes. "Is that your phone?"

Parker glanced over her shoulder finding said phone face up on the table, vibrating a steady rhythm on his glass table as the song played aloud for them to hear.

Of course it was her brother's fucking face flashing across the screen.

"...I'm actually going to kill him this time."

"Colt?"

"Colt," she repeated irritably. Tom blinked at the ceiling as Parker glared at the phone, willing it to stop entirely, but neither wanting to move in fear of shattering the moment entirely. "It'll stop eventually," she said awkwardly.

What if I'm late? Gotta big date...

"What the fuck is your ringtone?" he asked, breath tickling her skin.

Parker flushed for more reasons than one, and cleared her throat. "Harry Nilsson," she said, but that didn't seem like an adequate answer, and as the stanzas continued, she added with a nervous chuckle, "uh, it's from a Netlix show. It's not the theme song, but there's a scene where Nadia—er, the main character—she keeps dying, you know—like an endless loop sort of thing—and this is always the song that's playing when—oh, it stopped."

They blinked at the phone screen, and together the pair let out the breath they had been holding when it finally went black.

Parker turned back to Tom, somehow more nervous than she had been before. "So—"

He kissed her before she could ramble, a good thing for them both considering just how much she could ramble, and as if they hadn't stopped at all, her entire body melted back into goo beneath his touch. It wasn't hard to pick up where they had left off, not when he held her so close, when his chest was burning hot as she skated across it with timid hands, when his owns hands skimmed beneath her sweater to leave tingling trails down her spine, or when he ducked closer, sealing away any last inch of—

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before the morning...

She winced, and Tom glared at the phone so sharply she thought it might shatter. Too cowardly to look herself, she let her head fall against his chest as she asked, "is it...?"

"Colt? Yeah."

She groaned.

"Can't you just turn the fucking thing off?" he asked, and though it was a logical next step, the thought of what if had her hesitating. He noticed immediately. "What?"

"Well, I am his emergency contact." That logic didn't seem to matter to Tom at all, and Parker let out a great huff as she stretched for the phone. "He could be, like, dead or something! What kind of emergency contact would I be if I didn't pick up?"

The hand that had been under her sweater fell against her thigh with a thud. "If he's already dead, then there's nothing you can do about it," he snarked.

"Dying, then," she corrected tartly. When that didn't earn her any compassion, she tried puppy dog eyes. "Just thirty seconds."

Tom flopped against the cushion behind him with a sour look, and she rolled her eyes at his petulance. "Honestly, I can only handle one child at a time," she muttered, much to his annoyance, but he wisely didn't respond as she lifted the phone to her ear, hitting the green talk button. "Hello? This is Parker."

"What—of course it's Parker. Who else would it be?" Colt said, and the fact that it was Colt and not some hospital administrator had Parker relaxing.

Just as quickly she tensed in annoyance when she realized that this was very likely not an emergency. "Colt, is, uh, something wrong?"

"Wrong? Why would something be wrong?"

"Because... you just called me twice in a row. That's, like, something is wrong textbook 101."

"Oh," he said as if that had never occurred to him. And considering the fact that she had never had to call him in the middle of the night for a medical emergency was probably to blame for his ignorance to the situation. "Well, no, nothing's wrong. What are you doing?"

"Er, just, you know," Parker hedged, glancing anywhere but at Tom. "Just... hanging out. Drinking some wine."

"Nice. You want to go to the movies?"

Parker's eyes rounded. "W—what?"

"The movies! I feel like it has been forever since we went to the movies, just the two of us. You know, for something that wasn't a premiere, anyway, and I still haven't seen the new Alex Garland movie, so I figured we could go together."

Parker, baffled, grabbed Tom's wrist and twisted it until she could read the very expensive Rolex sitting on his wrist. He looked perturbed by her manhandling of him, but Parker didn't even notice as she huffed, "it's—it's late! What movie theater is even still open right now?"

"The one on Beumont Ave. I'll swing by your place, and we'll be just in time for—"

"No!" she said, louder and more forcefully than necessary. The line went silent as she blinked, and as Tom arched his brows at her, Parker waved her free hand around in the air in a vague gesture that he clearly wasn't able to interpret. When he opened his mouth to make what likely would have been a scathing comment about her ability to stay calm under pressure, she clapped the hand over his mouth instead. "I, uh, can't. Not tonight. Sorry. I actually have to, uh... I just can't."

"What? You just said you weren't doing anything."

"Well, technically, I'm not doing anything."

"Then, what's the problem? I'm like fifteen minutes away from your place. Just wear sweats, or whatever."

"Colt—"

"Jody can't make it, though, so it'll just be us."

"Colt—"

"That's cool, though, you know, I don't have to do everything with Jody. We used to hit the movies all the time, just the two of us, before, and I already bought some gummies from the gas station, so make sure you bring a purse so we can sneak them in. I'm definitely feeling popcorn. Maybe some—"

"Colt, I'm not going to the movies with you!" she blurted out, and the second she did so, Parker's shoulder sank in disbelief at her tactlessness. But—to be fair—she was a little overwhelmed in the moment, tipsy on expensive wine, with Tom Ryder staring up at her like that. Not to mention the fact that the moment he kissed her, her brain elected to take the rest of the night off. As if he knew he was the problem, his mouth curved into a wolfish grin. She shot him a glare. "Don't even start with me."

That caught her brother's attention.

"Are you—are you with someone?"

Tom rolled his eyes at the question, clearly put up with Colt's needling, and he tried to grab the phone from her. But Parker was quicker than he was, and in a better position to evade, and so she stretched onto her knees as high as she could as his hand tangled in her hair. "I'm, stop that! I mean, technically, yes."

"Well—what the hell, Park? Who are you with?"

"...that's none of your business," she said whilst swatting Tom in the chest when he tried to make another grab for the phone.

"Just hang up already!" he hissed at her.

"I will! I am! Just—give me a second!" she hissed back, as her brother's voice droned across the line. "I really can't talk right now, Colt."

"Oh. Oh. Sure, of course you can't, since you're all so busy having secrets now apparently. I mean, I thought we shared all our business with one another, but fine. Be that way," he groused, clearly hurt by her evasion, and as Parker twisted out of Tom's reach once more she prayed for a meteorite to come crashing through his ceiling. "But, just for the record, when I go on dates, I tell you about them."

"Yes, and I've told you before that I really wish you didn't do that."

He huffed, then huffed again. "Well, sorry."

"Can I just call you back tomorrow?"

Another huff, then a scoff. "Sure. Fine, Parker. Whatever."

"Colt—"

"No, no, it's fine! Go have your date, have fun or whatever. I mean, I go on plenty of dates that I don't tell you about, too. So, yeah, I guess we both do have secrets."

"Colt—"

"Just, you know, don't do anything you don't want to do and if he asks—"

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, misery at an all time high. "I'm hanging up now!"

"But—!"

The dial tone echoed in the empty room around the pair, and only when Parker felt like the humiliation of it all had faded enough for her to operate normally again did she dare a peak towards Tom.

"Did he just totally kill the—?"

"Yup," Tom said. "Killed it, stomped it out, and threw it in the river. I hate your fucking brother."

"Yeah," she groaned, letting her head tip all the way to the side until she was flopping off of his lap and onto the empty cushion. She brushed some hair out of her face with a grimace. Tom didn't look much better, and she watched him sink deeper into the couch with a miserable frown of his own.

Silence sat between them, thick and suffocating.

He fiddled with his watch as she counted seconds in her head, and when she got to thirty, Parker gave up entirely. "Do you... want to watch some tv?" she asked.

Tom looked surprised by the suggestion, and his gaze flickered over Parker; as if assessing how serious she was. "You don't want to leave?"

"Why would I leave?"

He didn't answer that, and his refusal to say anything was answer enough. Parker considered the course of events this evening; the food, the wine, the flirting before moving onto the couch, the kissing...

She suspected this was usually how dates went for him, just like she had a strong suspicion that his dates probably treated him in the same way his friends treated his things; without respect, and with a single purpose in mind. But she saw more in Tom than a single purpose, and so the thought of leaving hadn't even crossed her mind. Clearly, though, that wasn't a reaction he was expecting, and she fiddled with her hair timidly.

"Do you... want me to leave? Because, I was thinking I'd hang around a little longer."

Something flickered across his features as he stared at her, and as if he hadn't even thought he had a say in the matter, when Tom relaxed into the couch, he had a small smile curling his lips. "Do you watch House of the Dragon? I'm a couple weeks behind."

"I watched Game of Thrones, but haven't seen any of it yet."

"Want to watch it now?"

"You don't have to start over," she said, watching the little box drift back to episode 1 with each click of the remote. "Just tell me who is fucking who, and I'm sure I'll catch up."

But Tom wasn't having that excuse, and as he gathered up some pillows and a blanket, he tutted at her. "May as well just rewatch it. I've missed half of this season, anyway, so it won't hurt to go back and refresh a little."

"You don't mind?"

He tsk-ed, rolling his eyes in that judgmental way that he did—as if he couldn't believe she would ask something so stupid—and for some unbeknown reason to her, Parker didn't mind one bit. He wasn't acting like she was stupid, just the idea that he wouldn't want to do something as simple as rewatch a tv show for her was. And when he lifted an arm with an expectant look allowing her to snuggle against the warm plane of his side and wrap her legs with his, Parker accepted that maybe it was a stupid question.

After all, she's starting to think that there's very little she wouldn't do for Tom.

It was nice to know that he might feel the same about her.

And when she woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the windows, wrapped up in Tom, surrounded in every way by his essence, to find the celebrity A-lister drooling on his white Armani shirt...

Well, Parker couldn't help but smile.

Maybe Superman was a little more human than people realized.

[a-snapdragon-writes]

Fanfic Entry #2

An (Un)Wise Father (6329 words) by Lynlee494

Chapters: 2/6 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Matches Malone, Matches Malone & Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Matches Malone, Red Hood's Henchmen (DCU), Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Jason Todd is Red Hood, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Pre-Under the Red Hood Arc, Bruce Wayne Doesn't Know Jason Todd is Red Hood, Misunderstandings, Undercover, Undercover Missions, Jason Todd is So Done, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, accidental adoption, Except He's Already Your Son, accidental fix-it, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Jason Todd, Fluff and Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Angst and Humor, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Based on a Tumblr Post, In The Words of Captain America: "Language!", Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Tumblr Prompt, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Takes Care of Crime Alley | Park Row, Crime Boss Jason Todd, Jumping To Conclusions Without A Parachute, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Identity Reveal, Miscommunication Series: Part 2 of Your Boy That Was, Your Son That Is... Summary:

When Matches Malone strides into Red Hood’s meeting and settles in among the new recruits, Jason Todd has never been more grateful for the full face helmet. Why was dad Bruce Batman here…?

Then Jason thinks back to the gala and curses internally. Bruce had obviously figured out from their encounter at the gala who Red Hood really is, and has decided to… what? Taunt him? Anger flaring, Jason refuses to react to the persona that Jason himself had once helped Bruce to dress up as. Whatever this is, if Bruce wants to play dress up and look like a fool, who is Jason to stop him.

___________

Bruce isn’t sure what to expect when he walks into the meeting led by Red Hood. Even though his recent ‘rescue’ at the hands of Red Hood had Bruce looking at Red Hood’s activities with a new light, there was still the more pressing concern.

Red Hood had deliberately gone for and pressed the emergency beacon hidden on his belt. It could simply be that Red Hood had observed one of them using it. Or perhaps this newest criminal to Gotham just thought Batman was partial to the billionaire as some rumors suggested.

Or Red Hood knows Bruce Wayne’s secret.

My Notes: Yet another very silly one. There are Shakespere level shenanigans with all the miscommunication in the fic. It's mainly a Bruce Wayne(Matches Malone) and Red hood story

It's not finished though I think is still worth a read (Though I am biased because I am fine reading fics which aren't finished)

Written by fellow Tumblr User: @lynlee494

(I have enjoyed several other fics by them)

[heromaker-if]

do you have any other ifs that we can read whilst we wait😭😭🫶🫶

Hi anon! Thanks for the ask and your patience! 🥰

I do have some other IFs that I worked on in the past but I don't recommend playing them (I was still learning how to write at that time, so they aren't great). But if you want some IF reccs, I can recommend some IFs I've read recently.

(Sorry for the tags friends, and for the rants!)

(Released) My all time favourite is The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction - it's just genuinely so good and it always gives me the vibes of one of those shows you watch after dinner, that becomes part of your routine and you want to see desperately what happens after, and the characters become part of your memories, almost like people. It's just UGH such a good IF. If you like nostalgic hometown horrors, this IF is for you.

(Released) Very close favourite is Blood Moon by @barbwritesstuff - WEREWOLVES GUYS!! I've replayed this game so many times. It's one of those games that after you finish, no matter how long of a break you take from it, you always return to it. I love the "found family" of this game, even though it's not really found, it's just... family. I miss them! The romance in this story is also written so beautifully.

(Released) Another fav is The Golden Rose by @anathemafiction - it was one of my favs while it was still in WIP and after it's released I took so long to play it cause I never wanted to finish it. Like, I grew so attached to its story that I didn't want to let it go. 😭 Very well written characters and the descriptions of things, places, feelings, expressions, mannerisms, is so endearing and eye-catching, never a second where I skipped a line, I was CAUGHT. If you like a story with ominous beginnings, middles and ends, this is for you, not to mention the whole religion themes that are so interesting to dive into.

(Released) I miss this one so much but The Soul Stone War by @intimidatingpuffinstudios - there's two books out for this one already and each one is better than the previous. It's fantasy and about powers and there's a dragon lady that you can romance, and the POLY IN THIS IS BEAUTIFUL! Very soulmate-y romance and just generally captivating storytelling.

(Released) Nothing will ever hit the same as The Passenger by @the-passenger-if - there's just something so familiar, so memorable about this story. I don't think in my next lifetime I will ever forget it. It's about an eldritch horror battling with humanity and it's raw primal role as a monster. It feels short but only because you're so into it that time passes you by, but the tone and the flow of this story is very well done (as well as the characters! 🥰).

(WIP) I feel like everyone and their mothers know about Infamous by @infamous-if - but I'm going to talk about it anyways. It's a BAND IF, yes, music, yes, adrenaline, fame, and all the bad decisions that come with it. It's only one chapter out right now, but it's very worth it. I guarantee you the brainrot you will get from this game is going to consume your life.

(WIP) A somewhat popular one as well is Body Count by @bodycountgame - I haven't seen a game do the whole modern reality TV show with a tinge of horrifying brutal horror as well as Nell has, and even though it's still in its early stages, it's very well done and interesting. Lots of ROs to choose from, and genuinely funny humour to laugh about in between the crying sessions of a favourite character dying.

(WIP) Haven't heard that many people talking about this one to be fair but Chop Shop by @losergames - Also a very early stages game, but it's very adrenaline inducing and has so much potential that has me shaking in my seat. I'm already half in love with the cast and I can't wait to go need for speed and play a super chaotic individual.

Also any game by @hpowellsmith, they're amazing at creating consistent well written stories that have such great characters and even better representation. They do it so well, and I've been a fan of them for years now, definitely one of my role models!

I'm sure there are many more IFs out there that you NEED to play/read, but my mind is blank right now, and these are the only ones I could think of. I also don't have as much time to get into an IF, but I'm getting there (thinking of getting into Shepherds of Haven - which you should!)

[mirageofadesert]

Looking back on my first year as a c-drama fan!

This year I fell - first down a flight of stairs - and then (because I couldn't walk properly for a few weeks) down a rabbit hole of cdramas!

In total, I have watched 28 dramas since May. I actually finished 17 of them. I re-watched 8 of them at least once. My most rewatched show is Till The End Of The Moon, followed by Love Is Sweet and The Untamed!

Shows I loved

Till The End of The Moon: This drama triggered my hyperfixation, and I still love it so much. Tantai Jin became my new obsession.

Love is Sweet: This one surprised me because I don't usually care for romantic dramas. It made me more open to different genres.

The Untamed: I watched this for the first time in 2019, and now I can appreciate it even more.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasties: It took me several tries to get into the drama because the political setting was too complicated. I'm glad I didn't give up. Wang Zhi became one of my favorites!

New Life Begins: I was just looking for something light in between and was quite surprised how much I liked the show.

Things I learned as a newbie:

Cdramas are an acquired taste. Sometimes it's worth going back to a drama that you initially gave up on.

To avoid spoilers, it's best to skip the intro and especially the outro.

I love my characters unhinged.

Apparently it is okay to share leaks from filming.

Never believe anything that comes from yxh accounts.

Shippers are toxic in any fandom.

C-drama fans are a bit older than K-pop fans, but they can be just as unhinged and have trouble distinguishing between how to treat actors and the fictional characters they play.

My ADHD is better regulated when I watch shows in a foreign language while reading the subtitles. I don't get bored watching TV, which is rare!

Shows I dropped, and what I learned from it:

Hidden Love: I still don't like romances that have no significant plot beyond the relationship. Especially if I don't care about the characters at all.

Back from the Brink: Sometimes dramas that start well become an unwatchable, rage-inducing mess halfway through, and it's not worth sticking it out to the end.

Beauty of Resilience: I'm a character-driven audience. If the characters aren't compelling and the story isn't interesting, I don't care about the show.

Ashes of Love: I hate childish FL with baby voices and naive personalities. I need better written female characters. I'm on my 3rd attempt to watch this show and I only have a handful of episodes left, so I'll actually make it to the end (eventually).

I've dropped a lot more shows and actually watched some to the end that I didn't like very much in the end, but those are the ones I learned the most from.

What will stay with me:

Tantai Jin: I'm still obsessed with this character. He is everything I need in a fictional character.

Luo Yunxi: This will come as no surprise to anyone who follows me, but my obsession with TTJ soon extended to Luo Yunxi.

Bai Lu & Sun Zhenni: While I appreciate both of them as actors, it's their fun and uninhibited personalities that made me fall in love with them!!

Costumes: I adore the detailed costumes and hanfu styles, and do prefer costume dramas to modern ones.

Food & drinks: I'm now looking into more Chinese foot now and how to cook vegetables in more interesting ways. I also bought "moon cake stamps"... so wish me luck!

New online acquaintances: I have made some new friends online who I can fangirl with to my heart's content!

What I'm looking forward to in 2024:

I'm really looking forward to Luo Yunxi's upcoming dramas, Follow You Heart, Shui Long Yin and Immortality (🤡). I'm also looking forward to Sun Zhenni's first leading role!

There are still many dramas I want to watch, but haven't found the time for. Like A Journey to Love, Goodbye, My Princess, Nirvana in Fire, Then Miles of Peach Blossoms and The Blood of Youth.

I'm not sure what else I'll post here next year. Probably more reviews and content related to my favourite actors. Let's see if something triggers my hyperfixation soon!

Happy New Year!

[iamsosmaug]

Miraculous Fic Recs

Recently I've been complaining a lot on the internet how sucky the recent seasons of ML have been, and how much better the old fanfics are; I'm going to prove my point by sharing my tried-and-true rec list. Here we go.

Back To Us - Written in 2017, so some things are inaccurate. Basically Marinette, as Ladybug, kills Gabriel Agreste on accident by pushing him off the Eiffel Tower and Adrien moves to Milan. Seven years later Marinette is a rising fashion designer, her long-lost partner comes back seven years later but hot, and a new Hawkmoth shows up on the very day Adrien comes back. Suspicious. INCLUDES: Antihero!Chat. Alternate superhero names for Alya, Nino + there are only seven miraculouses which honestly I like a lot better than Ladybug just busting another one out whenever she feels like it. At one point, it was the longest fic in the fandom but now it's not even close. 446k. Requires an Ao3 account to read.

Second Chances- Again, written fairly early in the fandom. Adrien is a single dad and Alya volunteers Marinette to be his daughter's nanny - the premise sounds like it could turn out really weird but I promise it's not. Adorable adorable. INCLUDES: Past ChloexAdrien and MarinettexNathanael, and Adrien never went to school. Reverse best friends (Alya + Adrien, Mari + Nino). 105k.

Whose Woods These Are (I Think I Know) - Ladrien Cinderella AU. Super well-written in a kind of fairytale style. I honestly love this fic. 105k.

Spotty Connections - Adrienette texting fic (no miraculous AU, but does incorporate LadyNoir). Tikki & Plagg are M&A's cats. One of my favorites ever. 66k.

Film It - Adrien is a youtuber! Soon all of Twitter ships #adrienette. INCLUDES: Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting. Endgame Adrienette. Superheroes exist, but LB & CN aren't a huge part of this. Also worthy of note: #thatfoursome and a decent amount of Twitter formatting. This has pretty much everything I want in an Adrienette fic. 56k.

Chasing The C/h/atwalk - Project Runway AU. Marinette is a designer and Adrien... is her model. Shenanigans ensue. INCLUDES: Some LadyNoir, mostly after the identity reveal. #MarinetteInDenial. 100k. I love this fic.

Lucky Us - No Miraculous email AU. See Spotty Connections: LadyNoir incorporated without the actual superheroes. Fluff with a tiny bit of angst but still happy ending. 136k.

Secret Santa - fluff. Pure fluff; classic in the fandom. A bit cheesy and very outdated but very nice. Time for a reread. It has a sequel called New Year's Ball. 52k.

Être Majeur - horror, AU, fairly short, creepy and strange but really well-written. 24k. M for horror elements.

La Pucelle Et La Coccinelle - Absolute favorite. Explores Joan of Arc (Jeanne d'Arc in this story) with the Ladybug Miraculous. INCLUDES: Actual historical references, lore for the miraculouses, and a flashforward to the future at the end with Marinette. 38k. I have it printed out, I love it so much.

Pray For the Children You Lost Along the Way - Silent Hill AU (Emilie Anderson from the arcade game is Adrien's mom). It has been on hiatus since 2019, but is still worth a read because so many things tie together in a satisfying way. 86k. Rated M b/c of Silent Hill-type things.

Under Lock and Key - Huge classic also published on Wattpad. Author/artist collab with Maerynn & EdenDaphne - Maerynn passed away while the fic was being written and ED finished it. Very nice art by ED. I view this fic as the quintessential 2017 era Adrienette fic. Very sweet and fluffy. 34k.

Tripped at Fencing - Gabriel hits Adrien. INCLUDES: Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting. Accidental identity reveal (Marinette finds out first). Only 5k but a classic.

The Butterfly and Her Brother series (Generations Past and Future) - written c. 2016. Gabriel is NOT Hawkmoth; Gabriel is not a villian in the least so technically OOC. First couple are set in the 1990s, then a couple in ~2016 and the latest in like 2044. I haven't read the last one in the series but WHATHGAWAATG (Europe gets taken over), featuring the next gen of Agrestes, is really good as well. Many things are outdated/false as this was written based off of s1, but I honestly like this interpretation of the Miraculous much better than how the show does it. Mama Agreste's name is Adele (again, s1) and I quite like her character. I freaking LOVE this series. I have it downloaded to my phone and I reread it when I'm feeling sad. 340k in total, but the longest work in the series is about 166k. SO many kudos.

a fight that you were born to lose - "Adrien finds out that Gabriel is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel gets to bring his long-waited plan into action." TW abuse, emotional manipulation, forced dieting. Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting. Fairly short for how well-rounded it is - 17k.

An Impromptu Proposal - what it says on the tin. Reverse love square kinda: Ladynoir requited love bc Adrien never went to school. Includes identity reveal and Hawkmoth!Lila takedown. 33k.

On The Prowl - Criminal CN. Also on ffn.net. Good story and TOTALLY a classic, but also uses 'ravenette' and 'sapphire orbs' unironically. The writing is okay if a little melodramatic. 53k.

Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List For Feminist Purposes - pretty much what it says on the tin. Sentimonster!Adrien. 7.8k.

i think it's time i told you (i'm a fan of your universe) - ladynoir proposal. v v nice. Just 5k. Smidge of angst.

The Ladyblog Comment Section - what it says on the tin. 27k. Hilarity and crack.

spark - Tinder AU. Lots of Marichat. Angst with a happy ending. 49k. Slow burn w/ eventual identity reveal.

all dressed up and nowhere to go - No Miraculouses modern royalty AU - human Tikki and Plagg. Mostly DJWifi but a mild amount of adrienette and a smidge of chlogami. Includes arranged marriage Adrien x Alya but they don't end up together. "Twenty-five-year-old Marinette is a wedding dress designer, business blooming in her trusty shop, Ladybug Bridal. When the engagement of Prince Adrien Agreste and Ancient Princess Alya Césaire is announced, all she expects is an influx of work. What she gets instead is... a bit different." 35k.

tangled ribbons - Ao3. ballet/dance AU (no miraculous). Adrienette with some DJWifi and human Tikki & Plagg. "Marinette is a small studio dancer who wins a scholarship to a summer long ballet intensive. Adrien is a famous ballet dancer who would rather be at home than at said intensive. The end of the summer will bring about a showcase that could make Marinette's career, if she can ignore Chloé and focus on something other than Adrien." 82k. The slowest of burns.

Where timing is kind to us - Ao3. marichat discusses quantum physics. 4.3k. This is a beautiful one-shot with a one-sided reveal.

[steddieas-shegoes]

steddie fic recs??

Hi!!!! I have been so bad about reading stuff that I don't have many newer ones to rec right now and I'm so sorry!!! But I will give you a short list of the ones I've been reading as they update!

here i have found some peace of mind by @gerrystamour / @steves-strapcollection - EVERYTHING GERRY WRITES MAKES ME SCREECH. But this one is one I have been literally chomping at the bit to read since he teased the idea of it. Like I thought about it every single day. And it has been so SO worth the wait. If you aren't a fan of reading WIPs (I get it), he has other Steddie fics to read that are complete or one-shots that are equally as amazing!!!

Bandaids for the Heart by LexiRoseWrites - AGAIN EVERYTHING THEY WRITE MAKES ME WILD. But they do write a lot of darker/kinkier things usually, and this one is just soft, fluffy a/b/o shit that makes me wanna cry from how cute. And it's dad!Eddie. Another WIP, but the author has never let me down, updates regularly, and has a lot of other fics to choose from if this specific thing isn't your thing that are completed.

you be me and i'll be her (then it won't count when i kiss your neck and call you mine) by @infinite-orangepeel - Yeah, this is just my brand of filthy getting together and it's by one of the best authors in the game. There's also a part 2 which is equally as good and a quick read, which is perfect for a bedtime story.

Uneducated Guesses Verse by @eddywoww - I mean it's Eddywow. I don't even know if I need to say more. This entire series has me foaming at the mouth (all of their stuff does truthfully), but this one is full of all of the stuff a good slow-ish, yearning story needs. I feel like everyone already reads Eddywow stuff, but if you don't, this is a really good place for a warm-up. It is still in progress, but again, I trust them with my life and I know they aren't just going to abandon it.

I am in the process of reading five other huge chaptered fics, and all of them WILL be getting recs from me when I'm done, but I just want to finish them all first. Maybe check in after my vacation at the end of this month/beginning of July for those!

[hwajin]

hey! the feedback anon back again

I mean, there’s nothing wrong with just writing for fun and just putting it out there flawed, things don’t have to be perfect to be worth sharing. it’s all just fun and if you want to tell a story you should tell it. its what makes the world go round.

but I think saying “I don’t know how to do it differently” isnt true! have you tried taking a few steps back, coming back to edit it after? check out how other writes do it, learn from them? I think if you wanted to spend the time, and again, it’s optional, it’s a hobby, you could definitely learn. like if you’re aware you overexplain, why don’t you go back over a passage and delete some of it and then read it again to see if it still makes sense? ask a reader for feedback?

idk, I’m just rambling and it’s all up to you, but I think if you tried, you could fix these things <3 it just takes time and some courage and application, but effort always equals reward

take care~

i mean i probably could at some point write differently, but then again, idk i rlly could if that makes sense jfjsjdjd. also, if i even want to — the way i write now suits a certain type of writing i feel like, and i rlly rlly like the way i write, when it comes to drabbles and one-shots. changing my style would mean getting weaker in what i feel confident in, i think. i always say this, serieses and long stories etc etc are my number one weaknesses, and no matter how often i take inspiration from other writers on here i think my writing style simply isn't rlly fit for long stories. like, to a certain point i do rlly think that i can't write differently. like, i have one writer on here in particular who i look up to immensly and no matter how often i read her stories, i can't get behind how she can write the way she writes — it's rlly fascinating because she has strengths everywhere where i have my weaknesses. then again, i sometimes see her saying that one-shots aren't rlly her thing; so yes, i maybe could write differently, but my series won't ever be as good as my one-shots, because everyone's strengths lay elsewhere, i feel like, and we can't master everything! it's kinda like an artist who specializes in a specific style of painting, and lacks in other parts; yes, they could become better at one style if they put enough effort in, but the style they prefer and have a maybe natural talent in will always be better and stronger, and come more naturally, i feel like.

and yes, i do edit my stuff, i do take steps back (probably too much lmao), but what i end up doing is adding things, actually, because it simply feels too vague and not deep enough when i first write it; then again the entire story isn't deep per se, so idk jfjejdj. as i said before, my problem is mainly my inabilty to create worlds because maybe my creativity is limited, or maybe my brain just comes up with stuff in a different way than other ppl's brains, esp those who are very much able to write serieses; even just today, while i was writing on chapter 3, i forgot if my character's a smoker or not, and i feel like that shows my writing process and the fact that i simply do not even know my own characters, because i'm not rlly, like, able to truly create them. it's kinda always been like this, too, long before i started writing for skz and when i still wrote for different artists; i've been trying to write serieses for ages and never even finished one before 'twin flames', and i only truly found my writing style when i discovered one-shots.

so, idk, ig if i rlly wanted to i could learn, in a way, to write serieses/ long story-lines, but then idk if i RLLY could esp since i've been trying to for so long, and it's nowhere near my strength, and also not entirely what i truly enjoy about writing!!! i just wanna dip my toes into smth different from time to time ig, it just sucks a bit that ppl aren't much interested in that!

[hellpupp]

if i could convince all my friends, loved ones, and acquaintances to listen to One(1) piece of media that was formative for me, it would be Juno Steel and the Monster's Reflection parts 1-3.

it won't hit as hard without the context of the series up until that point, but it's still such a profound exploration of generational trauma, cycles of abuse, PTSD, and the ways we can understand the ones who hurt us as being complex individuals with a rich interior life. it even touches on how our memories are reshaped (sometimes even completely overwritten or erased) by the trauma we associate with them.

it forces us to grapple with the fact that most abusers aren't 2D cartoon villains who hurt others Because They're Evil- they usually had reasons for their behavior, but it does NOT try to say the existence of an explanation for their behavior absolves them of responsibility for it, nor does it try to say you have to forgive them.

i once saw someone tear the episodes to shreds bc they "humanized an abuser" and i've never seen someone look so directly at the point of a story & somehow completely miss it.

i've listened to the entire 3 part story probably 6 or more times, at least, and it's deeply emotionally impactful every time. it's been hugely cathartic.

anyway, if reading this makes you want to give the episodes a listen, here's a link:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

PLEASE take the time to read over the content warnings.

if you'd like a very brief summary of the most important previous plot points the episodes touch on, so that you have a better understanding of the circumstances, check below the cut:

early in the series, the titular character, Juno Steel, reveals that he had an identical twin brother (named Benzaiten) who died many years ago.

juno almost never brings up his mother, but it's clear that they had a VERY bad relationship. it's implied early on that she may have tried to kill juno, once, & that she was somehow involved in benten's death. juno also blames himself for ben's death.

juno struggles with severe depression, low self-worth, and persistent passive suicidal ideation. he tends to self-sabotage his relationships, and attaches most of his self-worth to his ability to stop crime & Catch The Bad Guys. the likely reasons for this are revealed here.

in a previous season, in order to keep it out of the hands of a dangerous criminal, juno took an experimental drug which caused him to grow an organ that an extinct alien race once used to communicate telepathically. he overtaxes the organ, causing it to rupture inside of his body. because it had attached to his optical nerve, the rupture also destroyed his eye.

juno's main employer in this arc, ramses o'flaherty, "generously" supplied him with a highly advanced, experimental prototype cybernetic eye, called the "Theia Spectrum." it comes with an AI which can help juno do all sorts of neat stuff- he later finds out it also allows ramses to see whatever he sees, and to override juno's nervous system if he does something ramses doesn't want him to.

the eye can't be removed through conventional surgical methods, due to the fact that it's become closely entwined with his own nervous system. in the previous episode, juno has finished a job for a different employer (buddy aurinko), in exchange for being taken to a clinic that supposedly has methods to remove this kind of prosthetic safely. the first episode of Monster's Reflection opens on juno's arrival to the secret clinic, alongside the escort buddy has sent with him ("big guy")

[nightimedreamersworld]

20 questions for fic writers

Big thanks @artsyunderstudy and @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @bookish-bogwitch tagging me in this! And to everyone else who's tagged me in a tumblr meme recently. It's been a while since I've done one of these.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

33!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Around 370k, but of those about 40k aren't mine. So in reality, something like 330k?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Carry On! I don't have the attention span for more of one at a time lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. How I wonder what you are aka baby fic

2. Mess is mine aka secret dating fic

3. Every little helps aka snickers fic

4. You and I will not be shaken aka huddling for warmth fic

5. From across the room aka my FIRST fic

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

I don't 😭 which makes me feel guilty and ungrateful, but alas. Every time I've tried to in the past, I'd run out of steam after half a dozen comments or so. Don't get me wrong, I love comments, they fuel me etc etc. Replying just makes me unreasonably anxious

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Technically it's Love of Fate because it doesn't have an ending. It was supposed to be a prologue to something longer that would eventually have a happy ending, and that I simply never wrote lol

That said, the true angstiest ending is probably my All there's left is a ghost of you series - same moment, one from Simon's pov, the other from Baz's. Set between carry on and wayward son, which tells you everything about why it's here :) (Although arguably, those are hopeful endings. Kinda.)

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

Almost everything I write has a happy-ish ending, but the one indisputable happiest ending is probably How I wonder what you are

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not necessarily hate, but one time I did get someone mocking my fic for a mistake I made. Which, like, I deserved, for straying so far out of my comfort zone lol

Anyway. I have upped my research game since, so. Lesson learned?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! The kind I want to read lol

Seriously, though, I tend to write weird stuff I can't find elsewhere. Someone once mentioned there's little mirror sex fic in the fandom, and BAM! I got the itch to write one. I've also tried my hand at web cam sex, body modification, and... [reads smudged handwriting] cemetery sex?

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

I haven't yet, but never say never, right? Although I'm much more likely to just write AUs instead. As in, take the world of the original, chuck the characters and just replace them with snowbaz lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably not? I mean. I hope so lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I've thought about doing it myself, but there's roughly any engagement with fics in Portuguese on AO3, so it doesn't feel worth the trouble

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Birthday man! Though I might be open to it if a) someone with a compatible style is interested, and b) I find some free time to actually write lol

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Do I even need to say anything? (It's snowbaz)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Sigh. It's probably Let your colours bleed, because It's been 3 years, so I've just... sort of grown past the story? Which makes me sad, because I still like the concept, I just can't connect to anymore

There are a handful other WIPs still hanging on my ao3, but I still have hope for them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like writing plot! And also actions scenes. And banter, maybe a bit too much lol

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The beginning of a fic. And also the ending. And also the mid-

Seriously though, I find that I tend to be either too verbose or too succinct when I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say. Like, I either charge through it and the thing falls flat, or I drag it on for several paragraphs that amount to barely anything. Hopefully, I can mitigate that with the power of editing and beta readers

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's cool depending on context! Like, is this a situation in which this character would simply switch to another language? Also, why?

I haven't done it yet, though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Take a guess. (It was actually Harry Potter)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Dance Like a Flame! My specialest baby. My little darling. My magnum opus.

I'll jump at literally any chance to talk about this fic, so beware.

Phew! Can't believe I actually answered one of these for once... now, I'm pretty sure almost everyone has done this already, but I'm going to tag a few people anyway just so this doesn't get lost in the abyss

@palimpsessed @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @larkral @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @whatevertheweather @ivelovedhimthroughworse @whogaveyoupermission

[perseus-veil]

my thoughts on the veilguard

i finally finished the game last night and my brain is a mess after a long week of work so none of this is gonna be concise and will take jabs at braindead takes but whatever this is my house <33

gonna do this in pros and cons and under the cut if anyone is remotely interested in reading it!!

pros

the writing/story - i don't have a problem with the writing at all. all three acts were banging, especially act 3 where everything becomes more urgent and fast paced. i felt like i was playing a dragon age game, and that didn't change the entire time. - only having three choices carry over didn't make me upset or angry (unlike like some of y'all), and expecting to be able to carry over every choice you made from inquisition was crazy. how many important choices from dragon age 2 carried over into inquisition? not many. i know what choices i made in the past and how it shaped thedas and that's enough for me, i didn't need to go through it all again just for the sake of getting a random codex page or character mention. - i really enjoyed solas and rook's dynamic, especially when it all comes to a head and he traps them in the fade. manipulating and moulding them into someone similar enough to himself to take his place in the prison of regret only for them to escape by themselves (and with varric's help) because unlike solas, they know how to move forward. insane to me. i'm chewing on live wires.

companions - every companion is wonderful and beautifully written. i love how most of the story is based around them, instead of each of them just having one throwaway companion quest that does jack shit for their development. - in my playthrough, i chose treviso over minrathous, so i ended up with a hardened neve. i love that rook has to work hard to prove that they really care about her and her home, and that earning her trust fully is no small feat. it's so cool that she doesn't simply follow rook blindly, and spends a good chunk of time trying to help back home before returning. - also i really loved how regardless of loyalty and depending on your choices, some of your companions can still die. choosing between harding and davrin took me back to mass effect 1 where you have to save either kaidan or ashley, and inquisition where you have to choose between hawke and a warden, which i thought was so cool. i ended up choosing harding, as she's been there since the beginning. it makes sense to me for her to be the first to fall. very fitting, loved it.

romance - i romanced lucanis for my first playthrough. not having much content didn't bother me, as it made sense story wise. he's been in an underwater prison for a year, tortured and tormented, so naturally he's gonna be slow to trust anyone, and like a hardened neve, you have to work to earn it. and in the end, it's so worth it.

animations/art style - i know i've said it before but the facial animations aren't that bad. even then, i don't really care because mass effect andromeda is one of my all time favourite games and the animations in that are still. not great. veilguard's animations don't have shit on the disaster that was andromeda when it came out lmaoo - bioware have a habit of reinventing the wheel and changing art styles with every dragon age game, but i do really like veilguard's style. it was never gonna look like inquisition, a game that's Ten Years Old, so idk what some of y'all were expecting. i don't care that it looks a lil cartoony, it's nice to look at.

environment/locations - we finally got to fuckigng go to kal sharok. i know it wasn't for long or that much but!! it was enough <33 - every location is visually stunning, i could've spent hours just wandering around aimlessly looking at everything and taking pretty pictures. next time i plan to turn most of the ui off to take it all in. - i also don't get the hate for that lil purple tinge to everything, especially in arlathan forest. it's pretty. what the fuck are you talking about.

combat - i LOVED the combat system in this one. i had to play on pc (which i don't normally do) and i chose the easiest difficulty because i'm mostly here for the story, but the combat was so fun and engaging, and i enjoyed having to actually pay attention to it as opposed to just holding down a button to attack and not needing to worry about much else. - also the combo opportunities with companions was s o cool to play around with. we blowin everyone up to absolute shit babeyy

cons

(i don't actually have many cons so i'm just gonna bang em all out here) - i really hated how they literally nuked the south. i'm not mad about the lack of choices carrying over, but i am a little mad about the fact that every decision i made over three games turned out to be all for nothing. why did they do that. hello. i'm ignoring it <33 - i do really love how they included the option of having a trans or non binary rook, but characters actually saying 'non-binary' in game sounded. strange?? like it just doesn't fit in a fantasy setting because it's a real-life modern thing?? idk this one isn't a big deal i don't mind so much. also my gender is Whatever so don't come at me - while i don't want my companions threatening to kill each other all the time, i do miss having more conflict. there were plenty of opportunities for that, like with bellara and taash's banter regarding artifacts and the lords' 'dalish advisor'. you can't have such a diverse group of people and not have some type of conflict, it just doesn't seem natural otherwise.

anyway that's it i'm not gonna say anything else because i don't want the deranged girlies coming after me <33

[fachefaucheux]

WriteFest! // Days 2&3 + Thoughts on Moving Forward

Well...things are certainly...going.

I'm currently (well, as of yesterday) on track to finish on time, with 17,161 words written. That's a cool 116 words ahead of the minimum! And we're moving into the first weekdays of the challenge, where I expect things to get substantially more difficult, owing to me having to be, like, a functional human instead of a chaos gremlin hunched over a keyboard most of the day.

But one thing I'm hoping will keep me on track/keep me motivated to slap down another 3-4k after a day spent at the dissertation grind is that I'm now in uncharted territory. After I put down my Morning 1k (a habit I try to do no matter what, writing for 30 minutes before doing any other work/chores to ensure that I always write SOMETHING, even if the rest of the day doesn't go great), I'll be past where my first draft of Canticle ended. We're on to the final third of the book, where all the plot threads from the previous, uh, 60 chapters finally start to get tied together.

I have a basic idea of where things are headed. But the finer details -- the exact scenes, the moments of people being both big dumb idiots and tenderhearted weirdos -- are unknown. Which is a great thing! I work better in the unknown! Honestly, the last couple of of chapters of Canticle, where I've mostly been fixing style issues and condensing/reframing rather than covering new ground like I needed to do earlier in the revisions, have been a real slog because the plot's all there. The main conversations, the silly jokes, the odd observations. And writing scenes where I know exactly what's going to happen is, to me, incredibly, incredibly dull.

Popular advice is to outline thoroughly, especially for a story like Canticle that has a gorillion spinning plates. But it's just never worked for me, either in fiction or academic writing. I was the kid who wrote the essay first, then wrote the outline afterward because it was required to complete the assignment. The one who had to fumble through conferences with professors about upcoming projects with vague platitudes because what the essay's actually going to look like is still a black box to me, a week out from the due date.

That doesn't mean that I don't work on anything before then! Not at all. Before I sit down to write -- both for my day job as a historian-ish-thing and as a peddler of gay shenanigans -- I'm constantly thinking about what could happen. While doing the dishes, while on walks, when I should be paying attention to meetings. I'm reading. I'm researching. But the structure of what I want to write, the precise beats and references, never gets addressed before I sit down at the keyboard.

My best ideas come from launching into something half-blind and just seeing where it goes. Putting my weirdos all in a room with the right accessories and seeing how they decide to deal with one another. And when I'm running half-blind like this, I also tend to get on a roll more often. The words aren't so hard to come by. This process of mine does kinda end up generating a lot of editing work for Future Me to deal with afterward, but the moments of clarity, the unexpected jokes and softness, are ultimately worth it.

Anyway! Enough blathering! Time to get those words! Good luck to everyone else who's doing a writing challenge this month, and I'll see you later on in the week for another update!

[snarky-wallflower]

for the fic writers ask: 2, 14, 33, and 37! or any combination of those if you dont wanna do em all lol.

<3

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

okay, so my top-used five tags are POV Third Person, Angst, One-Shot, Not Beta Read, and Canon Compliant. I think they do explain my writing habits, because I really love getting into the implications of a story, and I am. bad. at waiting for betas sometimes, and not great at continuing a story for longer than a couple of thousand words.

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

honestly, i'll read a lot, so nothing immediately comes to mind?

33. If you write chaptered fics, what’s your ideal chapter length to write? Is it different from your ideal chapter length to read?

stares at the WIPs I have not updated for nearly SIX MONTHS pas de masque, The Show Must Go On, I am so sorry. honestly, I really never plan out my chaptered fics, as the evidence shows - but a chaptered fic I'm recently proud of and that I actually finished was about three chapters, and 24k, so I'd say THAT was my ideal chapter length to write. so much fun. at some point, i need to reread my own fic. And I can and will devour 100k-300k worth of epics, even if I haven't been as good as doing that recently as when I was younger. shoutout to you, @acaciapines, whose TOH daemonverse fics are something i am SO excited for. you're gonna kill it.

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

ohhhh okay, one of my favourite fics I ever wrote would be always be my favourite ghost, from Night in the Woods. It explored grieving Casey Hartley, and how at the end of it all, so much of his life was left unresolved. how he never even got a funeral. it tugged at my heartstrings, that part killed me. so i decided to write people holding one for him. i really loved getting to explore his relationships with those around him, even if he wasn't there. from bea barely knowing him but still being pissed that he'd been taken, from angus knowing that he deserved better, gregg losing his closest friend, and to mae knowing that she'd missed out on so much of his final years, and still missing him anyways. and to maybe, knowing that if she'd stayed, she could have fallen for him. (shoutout to @doyouhearthunder for inspiring that part, as I read all of his NITW fics and that definitely played a role there.) i think i explored grief well there - in a game that has such a bittersweet ending, there aren't many threads to resolve. but this was one i could resolve, and i don't have any regrets about how i handled it. in the end, casey hartley mattered to people, no matter what that cult thought. that wasn't something that could ever be taken away. and it never got much traction because i posted it in 2023, and the game came out in 2017. but i'm still glad i did. it turned out really well for a fic i wrote mostly on a red-eye flight at 1 am.

thanks so much for the ask!