#the writers really are just trying to get me to jump of a bridge

[zeddylux]

I just love whenever Jinx is in her zone. Creating. Fixing things. In her flow in every sense of the word.

And I think it's pretty significant that she's wearing claggers goggles here.

It's a sign that she's healing. At least a little bit. At least significantly more healthy than a creepy voodoo doll. But then this happens.

The monsters show up. And worse. Her sister has become the monster.

The monster she always swore she would protect her sister from.

Now she's leading enforcers. Into Zaun. To hunt Jinx down. It's by far one of her worst nightmares.

But I think this moment is what really triggered her. Vi picking up those goggles and claiming them as hers. A symbol of Jinx moving on. Maybe forgiving herself just a little. Of course she had a panic attack. Of course she hesitated.

And it was only really after this moment that she decides "to finish off the last of my family." It's only after this moment she decides to go on her suicide mission.

[wilcze-kudly]

I am definetly in the minority here, but I was always so deeply touched by Mai's confession during that scene.

There's just something about Mai's confession that makes me feel so unbearably sad. I think the first thing that hits me is just how... empty she seems in this situation compared to the rest of the Firesome Foursome. Zuko is angry™️ and lashing out, Ty Lee is sad and concerned and Azula is posturing. But Mai is just so devoid of even sadness around her chidlhood trauma.

It's sort of like she shut down emotionally to some extent, (even more than usual) especially after her fight with Zuko.

This is quite a common reaction to arguments from someone who was raised to be obedient and non-confrontational, so I'm not surprised she was acting like this.

Analysing Mai's behaviour on the beach is interesting.

She seems to try to reach out to Zuko in her own, tepid little way by greeting him, but clams back up when he asks her where "her new boyfriend" was. This leads to her smacking his hand away when he tries to reach out to her by asking if she's cold. They're both trying to mend the bridge, but end up escalating the conflict further.

She remains silent for a good while, but does speak up in order to defend Ty Lee from Zuko lashing out. Despite this, when Zuko persists, Mai doesn't push the issue, perhaps due to her upbringing to be placid.

Due to this, I find it intriguing when Mai mocks Ty Lee for attention seeking, since she had attempted to defend Ty Lee from Zuko's ridicule. But perhaps its due to jealousy or frustration by Ty Lee's freely expressed sorrow and trauma that made Mai lash out in her own way.

Or it's just because the writers didn't know how to jump from Ty Lee's traumadump to Mai's lol

This is where we get into the meat and potatoes of Mai's confession.

Ty Lee bites back at Mai and parrots Zuko's opinion of Mai being "a big blah" as he said.

Ty Lee : Well, what's your excuse, Mai? You were an only child for fifteen years, but even with all that attention, your aura is this dingy, pasty, gray ... Mai : I don't believe in auras. Zuko: Yeah, you don't believe in anything. Mai : Oh, well, I'm sorry I can't be as high-strung and crazy as the rest of you. Zuko: I'm sorry, too. I wish you would be high-strung and crazy for once instead of keeping all your feelings bottled up inside. She just called your aura dingy. Are you gonna take that?

I think what's interesting here is that while Ty Lee saw Mai as recieving the attention Ty Lee had craved, Mai seemed to receive less loving, parental attention, and more scrutiny. Mai's parents also seem to be actually rather neglectful emotionally towards Mai and them just leaving Tom Tom unsupervised behind a screen in Omashu leaves me questioning if they actually cared that much.

Mai deflects, not adressing Ty Lee's question, but rather focusing on the nebulous concept of auras instead. When Zuko butts in, trying to rile her up, Mai gives a sarcastic apology. I find it very interesting that she sets hereself so aside from the others in terms of her not being "high strung and crazy", because it really shows the difference in Mai's upbringing and that of her companions. Azula and Zuko were raised to be leaders and fighters, and their "firebender instincts" were encouraged, while Ty Lee persumably had to compete for attention with her siblings. While Mai was raised with the :be seen and not heard" mentality.

Now is also a good time to mention that I think Mai has almost comically obvious signs of depression, which wouldn't be a stretch.

Zuko calling Mai out for not getting angry over Ty Lee insulting her aura leads me to my next point. Persumably, being a child raised by parents like Michi and Ukano, Mai wasn't allowed to voice her discomfort, offence or upset. Hell we see this in Omashu when Mai complains about being bored and Michi basically shuts her down and tells her to enjoy it.

I mean look at the expression Michi gives Mai when she starts complaining about being bored, a very normal teenager thing to do.

And when Mai finally does speak her mind, it is no less heartwrenching.

Mai : What do you want from me? You want a teary confession about how hard my childhood was? Well, it wasn't. I was a rich only child who got anything I wanted... as long as I behaved and sat still, and didn't speak unless spoken to. My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about.

The first thing that jumps out at us is how Mai presents her trauma. She doesn't explicitly express any pain or sadness, despite it being rather obvious to us. This is in stark contrast to the rest of the group. Ty Lee and Zuko are both very open about their negative emotions, hell, even Azula admits that Ursa's actions hurt her.

But Mai? Mai kneecaps her complaint. This can also be seen as an effect of her upbringing. No complaining, no making herself inconvenient for mom and dad.

We also see the theme of conditional love, an implied idea that Michi and Ukano would only give Mai affection or gifts if she acted the way they wanted her to. Now conditional love from people who are meant to raise you will fuck you up.

The comics also add that Michi actively told Mai scary stories about the Kemurimage to keep her in line. Now, telling kids stories about magical beings to get them to behave isn't anything new, but it appears to be so bad that Mai had nightmares over it. Also we're in a world where spirits actually exist, evil chidnapper spirits don't seem too far out the realm of possibility.

Also as someone who got raised by a heavily Catholic mother who made me believe I would burn in hell for an eternity if I even mildly displeased her, I do sympathise

Azula: Well, that's it, then. You have a controlling mother who had certain expectations, and if you strayed from them, you were shut down. That's why you're afraid to care about anything, and why you can't express yourself. Mai : You want me to express myself? [Stands up and yells.] Leave me alone! Zuko: I like it when you express yourself. [Approaching, attempting to put a hand on her shoulder.] Mai : Don't touch me! I'm still mad at you. Zuko: My life hasn't been that easy either, Mai. Mai: Whatever. That doesn't excuse the way you've been acting.

I love when Mai yells at Azula for frying to psychoanalyse her. Like Azula was right, but it understandably upset Mai, and it's a good thing she expressed that. It means she's growing.

I also do adore that Mai does not let Zuko get away with acting out, particularly towards her. I like that the writer's didn't just have Mai give Zuko a free pass because he had a shitty life and she actively called him out on his actions. It's probably my favourite part of their relationship. And Mai expressing so much anger and upset is a perfect crescendo to her little scene.

I don't know why but Mai confession scene just holds so much weight and emotion for me, I can't help but feel something whenever I watch it.

Also, side note, I find it an interesting detail that Azula's confession only came after the fire was extinguished. Perhaps it wasn't intentional but it kinda feels like its symbolising that the light "went out" for Azula (at least narrativewise) and that while Zuko, Ty Lee and Mai would be able to get out of their shitty situations and from under the Fire Nation's influence, she would not.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Academic Validation | Mike Kiernan x fem!student

Summary: The principal pays Mr. Kiernan a visit after school to ask after a promising young student.

Warnings: FLUFF! I made this for me and the other girlies who crave male-academic validation lol. The student isn't actually in this story, she's just talked about but she isn't there to hear it.

word count: 1186k

Hello My Old Heart- The Oh Hellos 🎶

Not proof read, sorry folks!

Mike Kiernan shuffled through a short stack of student papers on his desk. His gradebook was sitting open in front of him as his fingers worked down the pile. 

“Mr. Kiernan?” A man knocked on the gray door frame and poked his head into the classroom. Kiernan jumped slightly when he saw the principal at the door but laughed it off and beckoned him inside his empty classroom. 

“I’m glad I caught you alone,” the principal started. 

“Oh?” Kiernan chuckled as he watched the principal move a seat in front of the teacher’s desk and sit. 

“I had some questions about a student and you seem like the best person to ask.”

“Which student?” Kiernan asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He pulled open his desk drawer and slid his finger across the row of labeled folders. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the principal responded and crossed his legs, “she’s up for an award at graduation. I said I’d talk to you first and try to get a recommendation from a teacher that knew her best.” 

“Oh, well I wouldn’t say that. Though she has been in most of my seminars.” The teacher laughed and found the file with the student’s name written across the top. 

“Well,” Kiernan started and opened the file on top of his gradebook, “what exactly do you want to know?” His blue eyes looked gray through the thick lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses. 

“What kind of student is she? What kind of stuff have you noticed about her as you’ve taught her?” The principal offered. 

He smiled at his boss before looking at Y/N’s file for a moment in silence. 

“Well I wrote her college recommendation letters.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.” 

“She’s going to NYU, right?”

“Oh yes, she’s done well for herself.” 

Awkward silence fell between them again and Kiernan glanced out the window for a moment. He sniffed and pushed the bridge of his glasses further up his nose.

“Well in regard to her ability as a student, she’s one of the most talented students I’ve ever had. She engages in class and tries her best to contribute even if she doesn't understand the reading…”

Mr. Kiernan stared off into the distance as he recalled the girl. She was a memorable student, one that he’d miss having in class to make the hour-long period less awkward. When his questions fell flat and he was met with silence, the girl always raised her hand hesitantly and tried to answer. She had a remarkable sense of empathy, the ability to understand his job as a teacher and extend simple gestures of support. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. 

“She's an exceptionally bright young woman,” Kiernan started again and cleared his throat, “her last essay for my seminar was on Atonement, talented writer. She wrote about the ethics of lying in memory. There were of course parts I didn’t agree with but her argument was strong and well-researched. Things like that are always promising in a young student’s work.

“She’s going to do great things, I’m sure of it. We’re holding her back here. She’s better than my class, she’s just itching to be better somewhere else.”

“You obviously think very highly of her,” the principal smiled and folded his hands together. “What about her personality? The award considers who she is as a person outside of class, how she carries herself in other parts of academics.”

Kiernan bit his lip and tented his hands in front of his puffy lips. He could see her picking up her backpack and fixing the hem of her skirt as she stood up from her desk. He loved the way that she flicked her eyes up to his to make sure he didn’t see her fix her wedgie. She stayed after class sometimes to ask him questions and academic advice. 

I don’t know what to do after college, Mr. Kiernan.

That’s ok, Miss Y/L/N. Barely anyone does. I didn’t. 

I think I may want to be a teacher like you. 

You can, or you can strive to be even better.

But I want to be like you. 

You flatter me, Miss Y/L/N, but I know you’re capable of doing better. 

But who says being a teacher isn’t ‘better?’

I do. 

She was insecure sometimes, especially academically. He noticed quickly in the school year that she flushed bright red if he agreed with her during discussions, as if she was surprised that she had gotten the question right. She wanted to learn and get better but she was afraid to make mistakes. 

“She’s a bright student, as I’ve said, but she’s also humble and even insecure sometimes. She doesn’t think she’s as smart as she is which makes me sad sometimes as an educator. My job is to encourage confidence in the children I teach.”

“Right,” the principal nodded.

“She’s kind and passionate about the topics she feels drawn to in the literature we read. She’s a very kind young woman. She helps students outside of class and spends most of her free time reading in the library. She’s the kind of student that every teacher wants.”

She was always nervous to talk to him, nervous to be natural. It was sweet, tenderly sweet. She tried her best not to stand out too much in class but her questions and thoughts were too different not to be unique. Her mind worked in incredible ways. He bragged about her to the other teachers. She was just wonderful. 

“She’s just going to blow us all away. I don’t know which award she’s up for but I’m sure she deserves it. She’d honor the award as it deserves to be. I am so so proud of her.” He smiled politely and closed the student’s file. The principal nodded and sighed. He stood up and shook Mr. Kiernan’s hand before stepping up to the door. 

“Well thank you for speaking with me, I think you’ve just made my job very easy.” 

“I’m glad I could be of some help.” 

Mr. Kiernan watched as the principal left his classroom and stared at the student’s file that was still closed in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and massaged the sore points above his eyebrows. 

Was it appropriate to say that he was going to miss having her in his class next year? Perhaps he had taken her for granted. He might never have a student like her again. His thoughts ran away from him as he stared at the empty desks in front of him. If it weren’t for the professional barrier between them, he would have told her how much he admired her talent and skill. He’d written as much in her college recommendation letter, and so others had started to notice it too, he guessed. She was the kind of student a school takes for granted. He hoped that he would never take her for granted and put the file back with the others. A sentimental smile tugged at his lips as he closed the drawer and returned to grading. 

[aviduringgremlinhours]

My Muse

~content warning: slightly nsfw~

Mizu x artist!reader

Authors note: I am not a writer so I apologize for any mistakes! Enjoy!

"Somethings' off...I can feel it..." you say as you squint at the canvas before you. Wether its the shape of the head or the length of the torso, you could TELL something was off. "Two years of art school and yet I still can't seem to get body proportions right. Ugh, maybe I should just find a different career path-"

You hear a knock on the studio door "Y/N? You in there? I made us some tea, can I come in?" you hear the voice of your partner, Mizu, behind the door. "Oh! Yes! Come in!" You exclaim. Upon your approval she comes in with two cups of tea and sets them both at the break table nearby. Deciding to take a break, you get up from the frustrating sketch before you to spend some much needed time with Mizu.

"Hows the art going? What are you working on?" She asks curiously. Mizu has always loved your art, and though she was a woman of few words, you could feel her admiration and respect coming off of her as she gazed fondly at the paintings made by your hand.

"I feel like if I try to fix it any longer I'm going to jump off a bridge" you sigh, half joking at this point. "Ouch, that bad?" She raises an eyebrow as her eyes scan the canvas. "It looks a little off but its not bad. Perhaps you should do some model studies. Who knows, maybe seeing the body up close will help you figure out what you're missing."  The idea sounds good in theory, but theres a problem with it "Where would I find someone willing to strip down and let me stare at them for hours while I draw them? I don't really have the cash to pay someone for it." You ask her earnestly.

"Well..." she contemplated "I could be your model, if you want." Your eyes widen at the thought, it makes sense, and its not like you haven't seen her naked before, but you feel a blush crawling up your cheeks regardless. "A-are you sure you're comfortable with that?" "Absolutely sure, I'm comfortable with it if you are. We can start after we finish the tea" She says, her ice blue eyes seemingly brightening up with excitement.

A brief moment later, and Mizu stands before you, a robe being the only thing covering her up. "I'm ready. Where should I stand?" She asks you. "Oh, just go sit on the lounge right here, I want to try capturing you in a leasurely pose." You say. "Just lay back with your back proped up on the arm of the lounge, have one knee bent, and your arm resting on the bent knee. Look off to the side as well." she nods and gets into position as you ready your pencil. "Ready?" You ask, "Ready."

You begin sketching out her figure, glancing over at her every now and then for reference. Every curve, every scar, every fold of her body carefully replicated onto your canvas. From her slender yet defined arms to her lean torso and model-eque long legs. "She's so beautiful..." you think to yourself. You sketch more. Her breasts, her gorgeously long dark brown hair, her breathtaking blue eyes-

You notice her glancing at you, flinching away your daydream as you hastily hide your burning red face behind the canvas. You hear a soft chuckle emit from her as she looks away, a warm smile fixed to her face and a light blush forming. The silence in the air that followed was not a suffocating one, but one that carried a sense of quiet intimacy between two lovers. Warm, soft, and inviting. You feel yourself beginning to relax as you continue to sketch the beautiful woman in front of you.

You finish your sketch up and exhale deeply "Its done! It came out so well! Would you like to see?" You ask her excitedly as she rises from the lounge and reaches for her robe. "Hell yeah I would." She replied. As she scanned over the canvas, her eyes widened with awe. "Its...amazing love, is this how you see me?" She asked "Of course!" You tell her "You're the most beautiful and amazing partner in the whole world, you could say you're my muse..." she looks away bashfully, a shy but happy hum coming out as a response. You gently turn her head to face you a plant a loving, soft kiss on her lips, one which she reciprocates in kind. "Thank you Mizu, you've been a great help. I love you." She beams at those 2 magic words "I love you too, Y/N"

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 8

A/N: Another installment in the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader. This is a short kind of bridge chapter, so it's less exciting, but still good, I think. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one!

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Special shoutout to @ccab and @elvisfatass for being my writers room and helping me when I get stuck! Love you, besties!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also mentions of infertility and body insecurity

Word count: ~1.8k

What the hell has happened to you in the 4 years since he's seen you?

******

The portal closes behind him and he kneels down in front of you.

"Y/n, I'm here, honey." You lift your face up to look at him and then crawl into his lap. He holds you without question right there on the floor. You try to pull yourself together, but you just can't and he rocks you gently in the meantime. Finally, you collect yourself enough to sit up and look at him.

"You wanna tell me about it?" He asks quietly, tipping your chin a little.

"My husband left me." He nods and tries to swallow the anger that is building inside him.

"He just left?"

"I thought we were happy. We were- it doesn't matter. He's gone. With a girl from work." He looks away from you and his jaw clenches. Part of him wishes he'd brought a firearm through the portal.

"Son of a bitch." He tries to take a deep breath and calm himself down. Even though you've been apart for 4 years, seeing you hurt like this fills him with unmitigated rage.

"I'm sorry I pulled you from your life. I just needed someone-"

"Honey, don't apologize. I want to be here for you." He rearranges himself on the floor to try to be more comfortable as he holds you.

"We should go to my hotel. We'll make a portal and send you home."

"There's no rush, honey. I can stay as long as you need me." He means it. But he's also reluctant to jump into bed with you. His body is different than the last time you were together, softer, and he's not sure how you'll feel about it.

"Okay. Thank you." You breathe a deep sigh of relief. You're really not in the mood for sex anyway. Not after everything you've been through lately.

You stand together and start to make your way to your car. When you get there, you unlock the doors and walk to the passenger side.

"Do you mind driving?"

"Not at all. If I can figure out how to work this thing." He slides into the drivers seat and looks around. You've gotten yet another new car and this one has a few more features.

"It starts the same way as the old one." You point to the push button start. That's when he sees the screen in the dash.

"Is that a television?!" A small laugh escapes your lips.

"No! But it will tell you how to get back to the hotel." You type in the address while he puts on his seatbelt.

"Wow." He looks at the screen in amazement. You forgot how cute he is when he's fascinated by something new.

"I missed you." He tears his eyes away from the screen and looks at you softly.

"I missed you too."

******

You get back to the hotel and get on the elevator. On the way up, you lean your head against his arm. Neither of you is sure how much you can or should touch each other. After the last time you were together, your relationship has changed. There's still affection there, that's for sure, but is it love? More specifically, is it the kind of love you had before that drove you both crazy with passion and bound you together across half a century?

He's just about to put his arm around you when the elevator opens and you lift your head off of him.

He marvels at the card key as you open the door and walk into the room. Then, his heart drops a little when he realizes you've gotten a room with two beds. You didn't know if he would want to sleep with you, considering he isn't exactly available. Making a portal to send him home is one thing. Sleeping wrapped around each other is something else entirely.

"Two beds?" He looks at you curiously.

"Yeah. You know. Just in case you don't want to... well... yeah."

"Oh. Okay." He notices that you've also got some clothes laid out for him on the bed. He silently hopes that they're big enough.

"You wanna get comfortable and order some food?" You grab the remote and turn the tv on, finding a movie for you to watch.

"Sure." He goes to change into the pajamas you've laid out and you turn away to give him some privacy. For some reason that cuts into him like a knife. What happened to the intimacy that you shared all those years ago?

He crawls into the bed you seem to have designated as his and you take your pajamas to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once you're finished, you sit on the other bed, order food, and then settle in to wait.

He watches you carefully, wondering if there's more to the story than what you've told him. Something is different about you. Still, he's not sure he's in a position to ask any questions.

You close your eyes and swallow the lump in your throat, trying not to cry again. All you want is to crawl into the bed with him and snuggle into his body, but he doesn't seem to be interested in anything like that.

Your food comes and you both eat while you catch up on what he's been doing. He tells you about the movie he's currently filming, Spinout, and you pretend like you haven't seen it a hundred times.

"What've you been doing?" He asks. You think about the big thing in your life right now, but you're not sure you're ready to talk to him about it yet. Instead, you tell him about going to law school and getting your job at the practice.

After you finish eating, you settle in to sleep, facing each other with the gap between the beds separating you.

"Well, goodnight." You say, hoping he doesn't notice that your voice is thick with emotion.

"Goodnight, honey." He's dying to get in bed behind you and wrap himself around you, but he doesn't. You seem to need your space now. He turns the light off and you both lay there wide awake.

******

It's still dark when Elvis wakes up to the sound of you crying. You're obviously trying to sob quietly, so he wonders if he should just pretend he doesn't hear you. But the longer he lays there, he can't stand to think that you're in pain and he's doing nothing. He silently slips out of his bed and walks over to yours. He stands there for a second, wrestling internally with himself. Finally, he whispers, "Fuck it." And crawls in bed with you. He pulls you close to him and wraps his arms around you.

"Elvis, what-?"

"Do you want me to go back to my bed?" You take in the smell and feel of him. It's so familiar and comforting and it's exactly what you need.

"No." He lets you cry into his chest until you seem to run out of tears while he strokes your hair and hums quietly.

"Honey, are you gonna tell me the rest of the story?" He pulls back a little and cups your face in his hand. You nod slowly.

"We were trying for a baby. And it wasn't working. The doctors don't know why, but apparently I'm the problem. So he left. He said she could give him something I couldn't." Again, he's overwhelmed with wishing he'd brought a gun through the portal with him. He searches for the right thing to say, but he can't come up with much.

"Honey, I'm so sorry." He pulls you close to him again and kisses the top of your head. Then, he kisses your forehead. And then down to your cheek where your tears are still wet. He backs away and looks into your eyes trying to read how you're feeling. He decides to risk it and leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. Your heart jumps in a way that it hasn't since you left him the last time. It's a sweet kiss, just lips pressed together and nothing more. But there's something in it that has you both trembling when he backs up and presses his forehead to yours.

"Y/n, I-"

"Kiss me again."

"Okay." He crashes his lips into yours again and you wrap your arms around him and press your body against his. He parts your lips with his tongue and you let yours slide into his mouth. His hips roll into you and you feel his erection against your thigh.

But when you move your hand to touch him he pulls away from you. He's nervous to let you touch him because he feels like you won't want him if you take his clothes off.

"Do you not-? I'm sorry. I'll stop." You pull away and try to move away from him. He grabs you and holds you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. He looks down nervously.

"No I just... I don't look like I did last time you saw me."

"What do you mean?"

"I've... gained some weight..."

"Elvis." You put your hands on his cheeks. "You are just as sexy to me now as you've always been." He looks up at you with a hopeful look on his face.

"You mean that?"

You run your hand down his chest to the top of his pants. "I want you, but only if it's what you want."

"God, honey, yes. I want you more than anything."

That's all it takes for both of you to tear at each other's pajamas until you're pressed together naked like no time has passed at all. He rolls over on top of you and lines himself up with your entrance. You both tremble with anticipation. It's been so long since you were together. He begins to push into you slowly, pulling back to thrust every now and then until he fills you fully. He grunts and lays his head on your shoulder.

"Goddamn, I missed you." He moans again and begins to pick up a steady pace. You whimper and kiss his neck.

"I missed you too." You wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks into you rhythmically. He kisses your shoulder and your neck, up to your chin and mouth. All the while, he's sliding in and out of you, moving closer to the inevitable end. You feel your orgasm building between your legs as he moves against you. His length is perfect to hit just the right spot and you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm washes over your whole body from your head to your toes. Several seconds later, he slams into you one last time, shuddering and filling you with his warmth.

You lay there together for a while breathing heavily with his head on your chest. Then you hear him almost whisper.

"I still love you." You feel the tears gather in your eyes and look at the ceiling to keep them from falling.

"I love you too, Elvis." You hear the portal pop up, but neither of you moves a muscle. Instead, you lay together intertwined so that you can't tell where he ends and you begin.

******

Until next time...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley

[kissorkill16]

My Little Animal: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Mr. Murtaugh catches Nicky out late at night and escorts him back home.

(P.S., for @ghostly-writers !)

Murtaugh quickly took off his headband and threw it into the passenger seat of his car.

"What a day.", he mumbled to himself.

He started the car and began to drive down the road.

Half an hour or so had passed, and when he finally got to his street, he was about to turn the corner. But then he saw a familiar silhouette behind one of the trees in his rear view mirror.

He adjusted the mirror a bit, and he caught a glimpse of who it was.

Nicky.

One of his students. And...well...his patient.

Murtaugh slowly drove to the curb in front of one of the trees, and he saw Nicky crouched down behind one of the bushes, holding some kind of phone walkie talkie thing.

He got out of his car and slowly tip toed to Nicky, making sure he couldn't hear him or see him. As he was sneaking over to him, he heard a few things he said.

"Trinity, I've been waiting for half an hour. I don't see him.", said Nicky. He yawned, "No, I'm not tired. I'll wait out here all night if I have to."

"Nicholas?"

Nicky jumped up and nearly dropped the phone he held, and he turned around to see his science teacher. He looked back at his walkie talkie.

"I'm good.", he said, "Everything's fine, nothing's wrong. Just trying to -"

"Nicky, what are you doing here?"

"I'll call you back."

Then he set down the phone and looked back up at Mr. Murtaugh.

"Nicky, answer me.", said his science teacher. Nicky looked down at his shoes, "Me and my friends were just...out. Nothing much."

Murtaugh gently pressed the bridge of his nose, "Nicholas, I thought we agreed that you would go straight home after school.", he said. "You remember our previous sessions."

"And you remember trying to poison me."

Mr. Murtaugh's eyes widened when he said that.

"Yeah, after that afternoon, all those sessions went out the window. Don't try to act so innocent after what you did.", he said.

Nicky picked up his phone and was about to walk away, but then he felt one of Murtaugh's hands grab his arm.

"Nicholas, you shouldn't be around these woods. Ever. Especially at this time at night.", he scolded. "You never know what's lurking around in the darkness of these places."

Nicky snatched his arm away, "And just who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can't do? Fuck off, creep."

Murtaugh tried not to get angry, but this boy was really testing his patience. Once again, he grabbed his arm and pulled him to his car.

"I'm taking you home right now.", he said sternly.

Nicky tried to break free from his grasp once again, but Murtaugh's grip kept tightening with each struggle.

"Let go of me!", Nicky kept screaming, but his science teacher didn't let go.

He went to his trunk and took out a long pile of rope, then he held Nicky down on the ground and bound up his wrists and ankles.

After that, he put him in the back seat and got into his car. He started the car again and adjusted the rear view mirror to look at Nicky.

"I grew up on a farm with my family, Nicky. I had four siblings, two brothers and two sisters. My dearest father used to hunt and he taught me how to restrain animals that would get too fussy.", he said to the boy.

"I'm not an animal!", Nicky yelled at him.

Murtaugh just ignored him and kept driving, ignoring that Nicky kept trying to get out of his tightly bound ropes and kept screaming at him to let him go.

After a while, Nicky seemed to have calmed down. He stopped struggling and screaming, and now he was just laying down in the backseat of the car.

"Did you do this to every kid you found out at night?", he asked.

Murtaugh shook his head, "No, dear. You're the only one I've had to do this to.", he said.

A moment of silence passed by.

"Now, what were you doing in the woods in the first place?", he asked.

"But I told you in the -"

"The truth, Nicholas. I'd like the truth, dear."

Nicky looked down at his wrists, feeling ashamed. "We were investigating the cult.", he said.

Murtaugh felt his blood run cold, and he clutched onto the steering wheel. "Cult?", he asked.

"The Forest Protectors, the people I've told you about our last meeting.", said Nicky. "Me and my friends thought there was only one Crowface, but apparently, there's more. But unlike the original Crowface, these guys have white beaks and -"

"Nicholas."

Nicky stopped talking.

The science teacher took a deep breath.

"Nicky, I know what I did.", he started, "And I really regret it now, and I promise I'm not trying to kill you like those birds are. I genuinely care about you, dear. So that's why I'm taking you home."

After a while, they pulled up in front of Nicky's house. The lights were all off, so either no one was home, or everyone was asleep.

Murtaugh went to the backseat and untied Nicky's wrists and ankles. Nicky gently rubbed his wrists as he got out of the car, worried that he might've gotten a little rope burn with how much he's been struggling to get out.

"You go to your room and get some rest.", said his science teacher, "I won't say a word about this to your parents about tonight, but I don't want to see you outside past midnight ever again."

Nicky rolled his eyes, but he nodded and walked to his backyard.

Murtaugh got back into his car and drove off, resisting the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel.

"What the hell is wrong with me?!", he screamed, "I can't keep risking my life for that boy! He...he..."

He slowly calmed down and lessened his grip on the steering wheel.

"He's just a child, and he doesn't know anything about this town despite being here for over a year.", he told himself. "The boy will get himself killed if an eye isn't kept on him. I must make sure he stays safe."

Thankfully, he was thinking these things, because he was scared that his master might hear him.

[mountttmase]

i love your mm smut, you are an incredible writer xx

could u write more pls?

A Deal’s A Deal

Note - Thank you so much lovely anon 🥹 I wrote this a while ago after the Bournemouth game and wasn’t sure when to post it but figured his birthday seemed appropriate. Subby Mase makes me weak 🫠 happy birthday baby boy 🥹

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 2.7k

Warnings - fluff & smut

You knew Mason was nervous about the game today, after a string of losses and bad results before the break, he knew how much the team needed a win today.

The boys were allowed to stay home the night before, meeting up just before midday and you’d spent the majority of the morning in bed with mason. He’d been awake for a few hours before you and once you’d finally woken up yourself, you both lay there whilst he told you his troubles and you thought of ways to fix them together.

‘I just don’t want to be a disappointment’ he sighed, his head on your chest as he traced random shapes on your ribs. You rested your cheek on the top of his head, your fingers tracing similar patterns on his arm as you scratched his scalp gently.

‘Mase, you’re far from a disappointment’

‘I see what people say about me’

‘Mason’ you huffed, trying to shuffle down a bit to look at him but he nestled into you more so you you couldn’t. ‘Please don’t listen. I know it’s hard but you should focus on what the people care about you think, not what stupid twaty knobs online have to say’

You felt him chuckle, his eyes looking up to yours with a slight sparkle in them. ‘Stupid twaty knobs, yeah?’

‘Yes Mason’ you laughed ‘you know what I mean. So what if Jerry from the arse end of nowhere thinks you’re shit? So many well respected people adore you. I adore you’ you told him, pulling him to you tighter as you placed a few kisses on his head.

‘You really do know how to make a man feel better’ he murmured, kissing over your collar bones before reaching up to kiss you properly. ‘You fancy making me feel even better right now?’ he winked, grabbing at your waist and hovering over you.

‘Nuh uh’ you know the rules. No sex before a game’ you told him and he pouted in response. ‘Don’t give me that face, it was your rule’

‘I know but I want you’

‘Well you’ll have to wait till later’ you told him, and his eyes met yours in a hopeful stare. ‘Tell you what, score a goal for me later on and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me when you get back’

‘Really?’ He asked, his eyes hopeful like a kid at Christmas.

You nodded, giggling at the way his face lit up. ‘Of course. Go out there and prove to me what I know you can already do, and when you get home I’ll take care of you however you want’ you winked before he lent down to kiss you slowly.

‘Deal’ he breathed as he pulled away from you. Kissing along you jaw and down your neck.

‘Hey, don’t touch what you haven’t earned’ you smiled before climbing out from underneath him. ‘You want some breakfast?’ You asked and he nodded at you shyly before grabbing your outstretched hand and following you downstairs.

——————————

You and Masons whole family were at the bridge to watch him play, and you still got the overwhelming feeling of pride watching him step out onto the pitch.

You saw him look up to where he knew you would be sat, his eyes trying to find you in the crowd. You knew instantly that he had when you could just about see the corners of his mouth pull up into your favourite smile.

He was having a good game by all accounts, and when he kicked the ball into the back of the net, you and everyone around you jumped to their feet to cheer for him. He ran to your side of the pitch, pointing up to your section and whilst you told all the kids that goal was for them, you knew what it really meant.

Once the game was over, you met Mason out back with his family, standing back a bit so he had a chance to speak to them all first. Once it was your turn, he pulled you into him, his hands that were resting on your lower back were moving down to your bum so you tapped him on the arm in a warning but he managed to give it a quick squeeze before pulling back.

‘Congratulations, Mason. I’m so proud of you’ you whispered and he winked at you before pulling you into a kiss.

‘Thank you baby’ he breathed, his eyes dancing all over your face as he smiled at you. ‘You better be ready for me when I get home’ you giggled into his neck, too shy to say anything back in front of his family before you were pulled apart so he could make his way back to the team and you could head home.

You thought about him the whole way home, happy that he’d had a good game so it would put his mind at rest a bit. You knew you shouldn’t since most of the crap on twitter that was said about Mason made you feel sick and angry, but you indulged yourself, reading tweet after tweet about how well he’d played and you couldn’t help but smile.

Once home, you grabbed a shower and changed into one of masons favourite underwear sets you owned. Chelsea blue and lacey and it sent him nuts every time he saw you in it.

He was home soon after, pulling you into a hug and kissing you softly. His fingertips dipped into the back of your joggers, and he slightly frowned when he felt the lace. He pulled back, tugging at the waist just a little and as soon as his eyes caught onto the blue material, they lit up as he knew exactly what you had on underneath. He let out a yawn and you looked at him with a sympathetic smile.

‘We can do this tomorrow if you want, I bet you’re exhausted’

‘No way, all I’ve been thinking about since this morning is being in between your thighs, so get that pretty little arse of yours upstairs and go wait for me, yeah?’ He murmured, kissing you softly before releasing you to go upstairs.

You dimmed the lights as soon as you walked in, lighting a few candles and popping on some background music before he walked in. He didn’t say a word, just silently undressed himself down to his boxers and took a seat on the end of the bed before holding his hand out for you. You took it and let him pull you into him. His hands resting on your hips and you ran your fingers through his hair.

‘A deals a deal Mase, what do you want’ you whispered and you heard him growl lightly as he kissed over your ribs.

‘I want these off’ he murmured, tugging on the waist of your joggers to encourage you to remove them. ‘And your top too. But leave the underwear on’ he told you and you undressed yourself as he got comfortable against the headboard. When he saw you were down to your underwear just as he’d asked, he tapped his thighs, signalling he wanted you to straddle him.

‘You want me on top?’ You questioned as he helped you sit on his lap, his hands drifting up and down your waist as his lips kissed their way up your neck to your ear.

‘I want you to take control tonight, show me how good you can be for me’ he growled and you felt your insides quake at his words, pulling him into a heated kiss almost instantly. Mason was tired, hence why he wanted you on top so he didn’t have to do as much work but you were more than happy to oblige. Every time he scored the intense need to make him feel good took over you and it wasn’t long before you were grinding your hips down onto him. He moaned into your kiss and you felt him harden underneath you as his hands moved down to grip your cheeks as he helped you move over him.

When he was ready, he held you off him so he could tug his boxers down just enough to free himself before moving your underwear to the side. You grabbed a hold of his length, running it up your folds a few times before lining him up and sinking slowly down.

You watched his face the whole time, noticing how his eyes were shut, his head lent back to expose his neck but you could still see the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head as you shifted down onto him. Kissing his Adam’s apple as it bobbed in his throat.

Mason was a pretty vocal lover, but when you had him like this, underneath you and completely at your mercy it was a whole other story. Sure he liked to make out that he was still in control, telling you he wants to see how good you can be for him, but in reality it was how good Mason could be for you. If he could take what you were about to give him and even though the opportunity didn’t present itself very often, you know he secretly loved being in the palm of your hand.

‘Slowly baby’ he whispered as you began to rock over him, his eyes still shut so he could focus on the way you felt around him, but you wanted to see him, see the way he reacted to you to give you that extra boost.

‘Masey’ you breathed and he groaned in response, his head lightly swaying from side to side. ‘Masey, look at me’ you moaned as one of the hands that you had resting on his chest made its way up his body so you could hold him at the base of his neck, squeezing the sides ever so slightly as his eyes flew open to meet yours. ‘Good boy’ you whispered and you felt him buck up into you at your words. ‘That feel good?’ You asked him.

‘You have no fucking idea’

‘Language Mase, don’t make me punish you’ you told him and he whimpered at your words, his head rolling back again and you took to opportunity to kiss his neck. Your hands now on his shoulders for support as you rolled your hips over him. ‘I bet you’d like that though wouldn’t you’ you whispered with a slight laugh as he whined. He raised his head, now resting it on your shoulder as he continued you guide your hips with his hands on your bum. His grip tightening and you picked the pace up a bit.

‘Y/n, keep going please. Just like that’ he whispered looking back up at you again briefly before looking down to your chest, tugging the cup of your bra down slightly and taking your right nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently. You moaned his name loudly at the new sensation which caused him to moan into your chest.

‘You feel so big like this, Masey. It’s like I can feel you in my ribs’ you whispered, pulling a louder moan from him and you smiled at the way your words effected him. You carried on showering him with compliments and saw his face flush as he got more an more turned on from your praise and the feeling of you around him. ‘Open your mouth for me’ you hummed, reaching up with one hand to grasp his cheeks, pushing them together slightly so his lips parted and his stuck his tongue out ready for what you were about to give him.

You’d only done this a few times before, and you’d always been on the receiving end but seeing how it turned mason on so much in the past made you curious to how he would be with the roles reversed. You conjured up a small pool of salvia in your mouth before dropping it into his and closing his mouth up for him. His hips bucked up into you again even harder and you smiled as he swallowed you down.

‘You’re such a good boy, Masey’ you cooed running your hands all over his chest and neck and you noticed his breathing start to get more laboured.

‘God I’m so close’ he spoke against your chest, kissing his way back up your body so he could look you in the eyes again. His hands all over you as if he wanted to trace every inch of your body and you shuddered at his confession.

‘I need you to hold it for me, Mase’ you whispered directly into his ear, and he groaned whilst shaking his head, telling you he couldn’t. You lightly bit his neck in response as he continued to buck up into you. ‘Yes you can Mase’ you told him whilst talking his hand and popping his thumb in your mouth to coat it with your salvia. He was watching you with wide eyes the whole time, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, before you moved his hand down to near where your bodies met. ‘I need you to touch me Mase. Think you can do that for me?’ You asked he he nodded at you before attaching his thumb to your clit and circling it slowly. You gasped at the contact, bouncing up on him even harder and you could tell how much he was struggling to hold off, so you thought you’d be kind and let him have his way just a tiny bit.

‘I’m there Mase, you gonna cum for me?’ You asked and he nodded as the most obscene noises poured from him. It only spurred you on to keep talking as you knew he was getting off on it so much. ‘You sound so pretty for me Mase. Keep your eyes on me baby I wanna watch you cum’ you told him and he frantically looked up at you as you bounced up and down on him to finish you both off. You knew he was waiting for you to cum first and as soon as he felt you clench around him as you did, he let himself go. His wild eyes burning into yours as a string of curse words left his mouth and when you knew he was done, you both stilled your movements, resting your forehead on his as you got your breath back.

‘You’re so fucking sexy’ he told you and you chuckled, kissing over his flushed face as he brushed his fingertips over your lower back.

‘And you like being told what to do’ you winked making him blush even more as he tried to hide in your neck. ‘It’s okay Mase. I happen to think it’s extremely sexy. I love seeing you like this’

He slowly lifted his head and pouted his lips so you would kiss him and you held his face in your hands as you gave him what he wanted.

‘Will I get this treatment after every time I score now?’ He asked with a hopeful grin and you nodded at him.

‘If that’s the motivation you need baby, then yes’

‘I might be home late from training tomorrow then, need to practice my shooting’ he told you with a wink and you both held each other tighter as you laughed. ‘Thank you, baby. I mean it. I felt like shit this morning thinking about everything but you always seem to know what to say to make things better’ he told you and you blushed at his words ‘I’m so lucky I’ve got you’

‘Love you’ you whispered, connecting your lips together.

‘Love you, too’ he told you before a cheeky smile took over his face. ‘Now, I think we’re gonna have to stay here like this all night cause if we move there’s gonna be a mess’ he chuckled

‘Fine by me’ you winked, circling your arms around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He held your body just as tight to him, fingertips trailing up and down your back gently, thanking whoever was looking over you for bringing such an amazing person into your life.

[bardic-inspo]

Writer Interview

Playing some catch up on tags. Tagged by the wonderful @pursuitseternal, @marlowethebard, @nyx-knox, @honeybee-bard, @snowfolly,

and @paganwitchisis holy shit thank you all!!

Not sure who all in my circles has done this already, but gonna tag @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate, @astarionancuntnin, @pinkberrytea, @locallegume, @thedreamlessnights,

@ladymdc, and @carooosa if you see this and would like to do it! No worries if not!

When did you start writing?

Around 13/14 years old, doing warrior cats roleplay on proboards forums. Roleplay isn't really my speed anymore, but it eventually bridged me into more traditional narrative writing and then fanfic later. Fallout 4 was the first fandom I really wrote fanfic for.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I really love intricate long-running plots with slow-burn pay off, and used to write more in that vein, but got pretty burnt out on it. It felt like it would take so long to get to those big moments I pictured the whole time, by the time I arrived to them, they felt played out in my head. Trying to strike a happy medium now by writing (relatively) shorter and more focused fic/storylines that still pack a punch, but maybe have fewer branches.

Otherwise my genre/theme preferences are generally the same with writing vs. reading and are pretty broad.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Not a writer, but I've been told at various times there is a poetical element in a lot of my writing, even in just the sentence structure or how I tend to pace my prose. That makes a lot of sense to me, since I wrote a lot of poetry before getting into writing a lot of prose.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I used too many tricks on my brain to jump start creativity (yummy beverage, cozy blanket, favorite candle when writing) and now my brain often demands all of these things be in place to do any writing 😬I can sometimes get away without all of them. Usually, I'm writing in my office, which is a pretty blue color with some gold picture frames and often a soothing space. But, I do work from home in there at times, too, and on workdays I can't make myself do creative things in the same spot I sat in working all day. Then, I'll be at my dining table or sitting on my couch, usually with headphones because I have a hard time concentrating with other noise around me.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Self care. I mean, making sure I've got sleep/food/hygiene etc. squared away where they should be, even if it means taking a break from the page. Most of the time when I'm trying hard to write and it's just not jiving, it's because I've neglected one of those things, and the words always come easier once I've addressed them.

Playing the game again. Listening to character music. Chatting with friends who love the character, too.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Yes! A lot of them became apparent to me only after switching fandoms and realizing I was writing about a lot of similar themes. Grief is a big one. Characters who've experienced both a lack of love and a loss of it. Characters who fall in love again or in spite of that loss. The main ships I've written for all feature characters who either loved someone else first or, in Astarion's case, have gone through the forced motions of romance.

Battle couples is another big one. Bisexual battle couples. 🥰

What is your reason for writing?

It's always felt like something I needed to do to feel whole. Not necessarily the sharing the writing or posting it part, or getting a reaction about it, but doing it at all, even just a little. Even if it's just for me. I feel more me when writing is at least a small part of my life. More free. It's my creative outlet.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I adore any comment. I'm borrowing this from someone else's interview post, but I too am a slut for praise. In all honesty though, just knowing I'm not writing into some void or vacuum can be so powerful. Even just a heart emoji comment makes my spirits soar.

The ones that go full red string and corkboard about the plot or characters, or quote what parts stick out to them always stick with me. It lets me know I'm hitting the mark with what I'm trying to convey.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want them to know I'm still good for it even if it takes me a long time.💜That's the biggest thing to me right now. I'm not able to pour it out so quickly as others can. But I hope they know it'll be a good time when I do eventually post.

And also that I'm just some lady. I'm just another human bean. Wanting to share and enjoy stories with other human beans, and connect with a sense of community through those stories.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Visceral/punchy action scenes, vivid descriptions, setting tone, and portraying character personalities.

How do you feel about your own writing?

My feelings about it change with the tides. Right now, I'm a bit glum, and I think that's because I haven't had much to share or post lately, even though I've been doing lots of writing that isn't ready to be shared yet. On the other hand, I'm having the most fun with it that I've had in a very long time, and that element feels great.

I'm grateful for what I've done, incredibly blessed to have made friends and found community through writing, and ever-striving to find the happy medium of productivity and creativity.

When you write, are you influenced by what others enjoy might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's mostly what I'd like hehe. And I'm happy about that. I am often inspired to try things based on what I see in fandom, but if I don't enjoy it, too, I won't pursue it further.

[lunar-years]

Sorry I just read your breakdown of the scene with James sr. in beard after hours again and I just. This is the last we see of him before mom city! He tries to bludgeon beard to death, and that is The Last Time He Is Onscreen. After this all we hear of him is that he coerced his fourteen-year-old son into having sex with a prostitute. How the fuck did they jump from THAT to “well it’s all water under the bridge now, and really Jamie should just get over it and start talking to him again. And thank him! He was just trying to toughen Jamie up, after all”. Holy shit

I maintain that the writers room decision to drop “Jamie was raped by proxy at his father’s hands” into the Jamie lore right before going in for a James Tartt Sr. Forgiveness Arc was the downright craziest thing they decided to do in s3. Why. What on earth could possibly be the thought process behind that?!

Not that what we already knew about James wasn’t horrible enough (as you say, he beats on his son and tries to murder someone onscreen) or that if it had “only” been that trauma the forgiveness angle would have been any more palatable (it wouldn’t have been for me at least). But still. That Amsterdam scene undoubtedly changed my perception of the depth of Jamie’s trauma and it really made the forgiveness bullshit (which was given .05 seconds of screen time mind you) sour immediately in my mouth.

Jamie reaching out to him at the end of Mom City just makes me feel deeply sad for him, which I uhhhhh. Do not think was the desired effect lmao.

[myobsessionsspace]

TWD thoughts

Finished rewatching ‘The Saviors Arc’, second half of season 6, all of season 7 & 8 and boy oh boy. 😪

a) Carol is a badass and her and Ezekiel make so much sense. Ngl her bond with Daryl is beautiful but they’re kindred, bonded but not romantic, no heat, no tension, not romantic to me

b) the lack of Michonne was CRIMINAL for real I get that Danai was probably filming Black Panther around that time but nah Michonne needed way more camera time, Richonne needed way more camera time😤

c) in connection with b, so much unnecessary camera time was given to others, The Saviors plot strung on for waaaayyyy too long, ugh.

d) f**k Negan, f**k the saviors, they ALL needed to go. WHAT COMES AFTER could still have been without them, no amount of letters make it make sense in my eyes. Seeing him bash people heads in like that, tryna pull a sacrificial lamb bit with Rick & Carl, everything he and his henchmen did.

Naaahh sorry Junior Grimes but Rick & Michonne could have did good by you without him, without the goons.

The powers that be wanted JDM a part of the show, the spin off etc, but couldn’t give a better way to make that happen than that piss poor way? They choose when they stay true to the comics and not, they couldn’t make his ‘redemption’ better (not that there really was in season 8 anyway)

d) The workers in the Sanctuary, the families, for real?! With every new plan, no one and I mean no one could plan for them, so The Saviors could all be taken out but the workers protected?! Yea Daryl & Tara can have that one. Only difference is I wudda thrown molotovs in there and STAYED to finish the job. They’ve all survived herds previously and thought a herd could finish it? Tuh.

e) So Daryl and Dwight (trying not to spoil for anyone that hasn’t seen it)

…but Daryl and Maggie end of Season 8?! I 3000% get Maggie and her hate for Negan, see point d, but…I do also place some blame on them for the bridge, sorry, not sorry.

Again the writers??? The writers finally gave us canon Richonne, so little of it 🙁, but still brought them together

but everything else 😑

Thoughts?

[data-is-my-favorite-android]

While I generally like St:SNW Those Old Scientists as a fun crossover episode with lots of lighthearted shenanigans, there is one part that really bothers me as a storyteller, and that's when Boimler spills the beans to Christine that in the future her relationship with Spock doesn't make the history books and that at some point he goes back to his "real" unemotional self and stays that way for the rest of his life.

Now, I do like the Spock x Chapel dynamic. I would be happy if the writers diverged from well-trodden canon to give us a more balanced Spock in a supportive relationship (with Chapel or anyone that makes Spock happy, tbh). I'd also be fine watching how their relationship organically falls apart because, while tragic, it could be interesting character-wise. It would make me sad, but if it makes sense for the characters and that conclusion is "earned" by deft storytelling, yeah, I would accept that.

What irritates me about that scene with Boimler is that now, if Spock and Christine do part ways, it can never truly be earned by their own missteps and failings. Instead of watching how particular aspects of their personalities and unresolved previous traumas become their relationship's undoing, there will always be this niggling question about how much Boimler's conversation with Christine influenced the course of events. Instead of watching them try their damndest to bridge the gaps between themselves but stumbling at critical junctures, now there will always be this question of how hard did they really try when they both know that their relationship's dissolution is preordained, confirmed by a man from the future? From a character perspective, there will always be that doubt, that easy escape route, that "well, it was never meant to be, so why try?" excuse at the ready when the going gets tough and they're faced with caving to their previous patterns or stepping up to do the work to change for each other.

On a meta level, it's plain sloppy storytelling, in my opinion. Just like it makes it easier for the characters to back out of a "doomed" relationship, it makes it infinitely easier for writers/showrunners to just wave their hand and say "and then they broke up because they were always supposed to break up!" without having to show all the appropriate steps it took to get there. Like, don't start a character arc like that if you don't plan on honestly and thoroughly exploring it through to the end. Don't give us a Spock exploring his emotions and his human side and then say, "Well Boimler told him the future needed him unemotional, so he gives it all up and rejects his humanity again." No! When your character experiences positive growth and then backslides, you better have a damn good reason why, and you better show your work. There are many avenues the showrunners could take to make such a rejection of his human-ness understandable and even justified. Many have already been discussed on this here webbed site. There are already plenty of pitfalls before a Spock x Chapel relationship that would pose interesting narrative and character challenges; adding that extra "confirmation" from the future that things don't work out doesn't add anything. (If anything, it could indicate that the showrunners painted themselves into a corner by presenting the audience with a generally liked/charismatic relationship before realizing they had no good excuse to end it, at least not in the time they have in the season).

Honestly, this criticism isn't motivated solely by my appreciation for spapel, or even my love of Spock and my desire to see him be in a happy relationship with anyone (he has so many good choices!). I'd be irritated by this dismissive kind of storytelling in any context. And I could be jumping the gun a bit; we haven't seen yet how this plays out, and maybe the showrunners have a trick up their sleeves. Maybe, despite saying repeatedly that they plan on sticking to the canon, they'll reverse course and set out for uncharted waters. But I'm giving them serious side-eye right now. That scene, that side-plot centering on Boimler's anxiety about Spock's emotionality, feels like a contrivance to me and ultimately unnecessary. There were plenty of other ways to fill in the B-plot of that episode that wouldn't build in a "get out of jail free" card on the spapel issue and explaining why Spock goes from being curious about his humanity to rejecting it entirely.

[degrassiclassiclover]

TW: slight mention of suicide Shane is such a tragic character and i am about to go on a super long rant about it so buckle up. He’s introduced as a pretty normal teenage boy, if not a bit of a partier. Honestly, judging by the fact that his parents are old as fuck, and his brothers are both so much older than him, and his parents never seem to really care about his whereabouts and are seemingly VERY excited about sending him off to private school, I think Shane was an accident. Hey, so was Spike! And together they had another accident! Anyway… Shane is pretty much mistreated by his parents and Spike throughout the pregnancy and Emma’s early years. And then, enter everyone’s favorite bad influence- Luke fuckin Matthews (or Casellis, as he’s credited), who convinces Shane to try acid, which he assumes will be fine. WRONG. Shane jumps off a fucking bridge, which leads me to my next point. You know how Claude k1lled himself? Well, the Degrassi writers originally wanted to give the story to Shane, as a result of pressure from Spike and his aforementioned shit parents. I, and some other people theorize that the LSD clouded his judgment and he acted on his subconscious suicidal ideations. Yes, I am suggesting that his accident was a suicide attempt. Well, he doesn’t die. He is subjected to a fate, which, in my opinion, is worse than death. He becomes physically disabled and gets a TBI, and is unable to live without assistance. You might be thinking, that’s not that bad. WRONG AGAIN. His old ass parents ship him off to a mental institution where he rots for up until the next generation, and it’s implied that his family doesn’t visit him, and I don’t mean just Spike and Emma. I mean his parents and his brothers. He’s basically alone. He just made a couple bad decisions that ruined his life. I can’t remember who said it, but I read it somewhere- “His story is just not happy. And it never gets happy.”

[hey-must-be-a-devilbetween-us]

Everyone seems to be jumping on this shitting on the writing of Good Omens 2 band wagon and I just...don't see it?

I mean I am a person who values my own opinion and taste, (knowing its definitely not for everyone, I have some acquired weirdness), I'm no scholar but I think I have a fair amount of media literacy, I've been to a few classes and in some advanced creative writing when I was in high school and I've just ya know, read a lot of books and a lot of books about writing so like...

Idk maybe I need to go back and watch it again with a more critical eye and less of a fanatical eye, but I've read Good Omens many times, and I've watched the first season many times, and to me S2 seemed to be pretty on-par with the quality of writing we've seen so far, nothing jumped out at me as low quality?

Its just a different kind of story, the stakes weren't as high, we're starting literally in the middle (you can see that without anyone having to tell us) and the expectations being built up of how close Crowley and Aziraphale have become in comparison to Gabriel and Beelzebub and Nina and Maggie, and maybe the subversion of 'oop they're actually getting split up' was maybe obvious, but wasn't it supposed to be? Isn't that what the bridge season 2 is supposed to be, leading to how they start the true sequel split up?

Sure it was very fanservice-y but that's because its...truly for the fans, I don't see anything wrong with that.

I think a lot of you guys aren't remembering that Good Omens was always a book built around two buddies sending each other bits and pieces of a story through a floppy disk in the mail with the express goal of making the other ring them on the phone to laugh until they cried.

Good Omens has always been pretty cheesy and punny and goofy and playing off 'wow being human is weird, lets put a lens on that' with a great dash of wit and sarcasm and affection in there, sure some bits are pretty exciting but that's just the bookends of all the lovely nonsense, but well crafted nonsense, like a fairy tale almost.

I'm not trying to start a flame war or anything (though I'm not anyone I doubt anyone will care), but I've seen a lot of posts mocking fans who enjoyed the second season and making fun of fans sending Neil Gaiman asks being all excited and just calling him and everyone who worked on it a shitty writer and idk it really brought down the party for me, seems a really...interesting take when there's a writers strike going on but idk I don't see why people have to be so mean and callous about our silly religion fanfiction show but that's probably expecting too much out of the internet.

That's not to say I'm gonna sit here and say you have to like it and think its perfect because that's silly, its not perfect, everyone has different tastes, and of course its okay to make jokes about writing goofs, people have been making fun of Good Omens in the Good Omens fandom since its publish date.

I just genuinely don't see the quality dip, it seems like the same Gaiman Pratchett-y Goodness I've known, just new and more of it, with more modern jokes.

If anyone wants to have some friendly discourse I might not always reply to this thread but my asks should be open I just wanna understand where everyone is coming from, if anyone has some insight on the consensus that its 'bad writing.'

[ofmermaidstories]

So I've got an Idea for a fic or even just a piece of writing. I really like the concept and get excited about building upon the idea to the point where I feel unmotivated to actually write it because I'm worried I won't be able to execute my ambition.

Do you have any tips to get started? And then, after that, to keep writing?

(Sorry if you've already responded to stuff similar to this. I've been told I'm a good writer, but I just don't see it, so I get caught up in trying to preserve my favorite ideas.)

oh emi. 🥺 idk if what i’m about to say will be in any way useful—the problem with advice about anything creative is that it is always subjective to how your brain works. but i will tell you what gets me through the rough patches, and out to the end, and maybe between that and us and the magic of your idea, it’ll help a little. 📒

tbh the one thing that i hold over myself is the fact that no matter what i write, it will not be perfect. 🥹 that is just a fact, and it’s true for all of us. you are always, always going to lose some of the glitter of your idea when you try to get it on a page. your brain does its little loopy-de-loops and twirls and spins around happily and like, doesn’t have to worry about like—transitional sentences. word choices. awkward sounding phrasing. LOL. your brain just gets to amuse itself in with this perpetual daydream and it doesn’t have to build it into a reality, word by painful word. it can ignore the labour because that labour doesn’t exist in the imagination!!!! so like, you have to make a choice. would you rather keep this idea of yours, this something exciting, as a colourful, perfect daydream—or would you rather try and see what it’s like in reality with you, tangible and there? will you regret it if you never try it, because you’re worried? 🥺 the gap between what we want to create and what we can—or think we can—can be so scary sometimes, but i think learning to recognise it for what it is (a gap of fear; a gap that might just need a little jump, or maybe a gap that needs the work of a ladder, or even a bridge) and say, “fuck it let’s do it” is vital to any sort of creative fulfilment.

it’s the same as all other things, really; sometimes we just have to do them to have them. 🥺 and emi—you sound like you really want to write your idea. 🥺 the hardest part will always be starting. the whatifs can be soooo strong and personally i always get hung up on the first sentence LOL, but you just have to go for it, if you really want it. 🥺

tbh this is the same kind of mentality you’ll need to finish your WIP, too—you only get to the ending after you’ve gone through the beginning and the middle, and the only way to do that is to do them. and the thing is, even if it’s not about creative discipline it will, eventually, be about motivation—because you are writing and posting a fic, and fic is so, so community driven. you will always need to want to finish it for yourself—people like to brush that aside in favour of the “engagement matters!” argument and it does it does it does and i’m not saying it doesn’t, but i am saying that you will need something to give you a backbone in the face of like, even benign rejection (a friend promising to read it, and then not. someone who interacts with you on everything else, but this. people who are there from chapter one disappearing, but still showing up in the notifs on someone else’s writing). you are human and you are working on something so wholly important to you and only you and maybe, luckily, one other person will like it! and then maybe two more will come after that, and then maybe ten but then maybe one day you’ll wake up and it’ll just be you again. it will suck, it will suck, and if you want to shelve your idea and get some space from it then you need to do whatever you have to so as not to let the bitterness ruin writing for you—but it’s you, you’re the one that has to make those decisions and you’re the one that has to write it and you’re the one that gets to decide what you want out of the experience that will be this fic.

everything i have finished, i’ve only finished because not bringing it to a close was worse for me than like—pushing through whatever horrific bullshit my brain was trying to convince me of at the time. i hate writing!!!!!!!!!!!!! but i start it and i end it because the alternative of not starting it, not ending it, is even more painful. if i didn’t write—no matter how messily, no matter how topsy turvy the reality is from the daydream of the idea—i’d be so bored. i wouldn’t know what to fill that gap in with. it’s like baking. like sewing. the long start and then the realisation that you’re holding something you made in your hands—that’s the feeling i want. and that’s the feeling i prioritise over everything, whenever i get the wobbles or the humdrums or the “meh no one will notice if i shelve this who cares”—i will notice. i care. i want to flip through the pages of my fic in an ereader, i want to hold it printed out—i want it, here, with me. not a glowing daydream. but real and imperfect and proof that i can do it—that i can do whatever i want, with a bit of work. there will always, always be other ideas—other perfect daydreams. you won’t be wasting anything by breathing in and making your choice with what you want to do with this one, emi. 🥺 no matter what happens. 🌷📖💕

[thewatercolours]

talking shoppy~! as many or as few as you like, but, I just have to ask.....

who's your favorite character to write, where do you get your ideas, do you keep scraps of stories in notebooks and things, how do you feel about skipping around a plot or do you have to tell a story from start to finish, what's something you'd love to write but haven't gotten to yet, what's your favorite thing you've written in a sentence or scene or overall creation, who's your second favorite character to write, what's your favorite trope, what do you love and dislike about writing in general, are we in a secret club??

Pretty sure this corner of the internet counts as a secret club...

Who's your favourite character to write?

Do you keep scraps of stories in notebooks and things?

Do Google Docs count? Like all writers, I find the idea of notebooks appealing, but I'm not one to use them very much or well. I forget I have them going, or to keep them around where they'd be useful to me. Add to that the fact that I prefer to keep it digital, because I make SO many edits as I write. That being said, I'll occasionally scribble on random papers if I'm scared I'm going to forget an idea - usually a two line dialogue exchange. I never find those papers again.

How do you feel about skipping around a plot or do you have to tell a story from start to finish?

Within a single scene, I try to be pretty linear, but jump ahead if I get struck with a very vivid idea for later in the scene and want to capture it in a few paragraphs, before doubling back. Or if I'm getting really stuck and I know jumping just a little ahead will give me momentum, especially if the two moments aren't separated by much. That's nice, because it gives me a better idea how to bridge them.

Within a multi-chapter story? Um, if it's "Rippling Consequences," heh, start to finish is definitely not a thing. Although the Goblin Graham storyline has to be told in progressive order, even if we skip around to other scenes in between.) My other little multi-chapters have all been written in scene order.

What's something you'd love to write but haven't gotten to yet?

(Gonna count some that I've taken a stab at but don't have anything near a complete draft.)

"What if" where Graham, having lost the tournament, decides to approach his sister about joining her seagoing crew, and things get off on the wrong foot.

"What if" where Chapter One Graham didn't make it to the tournament on time, and ends up a bottom-rung page at the court of Western Kolyma. And meets someone. ;-)

Rewrite of the Princess "Ball" in Chapter Three

Sleeping Beauty-type spell hits Daventry, and everyone's evacuating before the lilac-y sleep claims them, but someone was forgotten down in the valley while everyone else was fleeing and the king goes back into the sleepy, sleep thickness of the spell to try to get them to safety.

The rest of "Rippling Consequences" and "Paths." Thee are some scenes I'm really looking forward to, but I have to wait for the right moments to write them. There's an Orri scene especially that I'm looking forward to in RC, and a sort of reconnaissance scene into enemy territory that should be fun to write. This could change, but "Paths" is set to include a couple of actual canon scenes in the prose, and I am looking forward to playing with them.

What's your favourite thing you've written in a sentence or scene or overall creation?

That is a lovely, gigantic question and how am I supposed to answer it? Um, very non-exhaustive selection of tiny little moments from just three fics because I the kind of person who could embark on a long, long overthinking project.

From The Fairy: Orri tapping Graham's nose and him going cross-eyed. Graham tearing up with joy because he's apparently turned human again, and then snapping back into his goblin form within seconds. Also the moment where Graham slips briefly into a goblin mindset and perceives the human side of his mind as something intimidating and far too clever that doesn't belong and has to be pushed out (and I let him giggle manically... I had the goblin theme music playing on repeat when I was writing that passage, and the goal was to try to make the words feel a bit like that music.)

From The Waystop Woman: Nelia being an utterly ruthless and morally grey person who works with kidnappers, and at this point is motivated by pure revenge, but is also just extraordinarily kind and survives by seeing people's humanity and drawing it out even in the worst circumstances. The scene where she notices the unconscious Graham shivering, and asks the kidnappers to lay him by the fire, and they object that he's asleep and won't remember the warmth, and she still insists. "Let him have one more nice, deep sleep before everything changes." "It's already changed, as far as he's concerned." "All right, one last nice sleep before he changes." And the sickfic scene.

The opening line of A King Sat Alone in a Lavender Field (that's more or less the line itself.) It's not actually one of my better fics, but it was written in hopes it could be a bit of warmth when a few people in the fandom were going through a difficult time. I hadn't written anything, not really, in months and months, and it was a rusty attempt. But it was meant to be something quiet and gentle and just exist, and still that title makes me feel a bit of that.

Who's your second favourite character to write?

Oh, I don't think there's a clear second the way there is a first. I've probably written more Number One and Neese than other characters, but does that mean they're my favourites to work with? Maybe?

(Might try and answer the rest another time! Got to stop overthinking and get to bed. Flying to another province tomorrow.)

[scifrey]

NINE-TENTHS

Part Four

My heart jumps into the back of my throat, and I’m halfway off my stool before my brain catches up with what I’m actually seeing. In the light of the overhead lamps, the person’s hair only looks red.

Not him.

"Snacky," I stage-whisper all the same, committed now that I’m on my feet. Mau drops my befouled phone into my hand.

"Colin," Hadi says, grabbing my sleeve before I can head over. 

"The Rules?" I tap my temple.

"The Rules," she agrees, and lets me go.

As I work my way through the crowd, I try to shove away the weird flutter that even thinking I had spotted him caused. It's a stupid thought. There's no way someone like him—upright, posh, snobby—would sit and shoot the shit with the bartender for funsies. 

So why had I been excited when I thought it was him? 

People like him don’t date people like me. 

Do they?

It's just curiosity. It has to be. Because of the access, right?

It would have been the perfect excuse to finally bridge that customer-service gap. Sidle up to him, actually meet in a place where I didn't have other duties to attend to, where I could casually drop the fact that it was my birthday and I wouldn't say no to a celebratory drink.

Actually get a conversation out of him.

Yeah, right.

He never talks to me. I stopped trying to have a conversation with him over a year ago, because he'd always looked like I'd smacked him between the eyes with a wet fish whenever I tried. It seemed kinder to just let him hide behind his newspaper—an honest-to-god paper paper—and stare at me.

And he does stare.

Sometimes I think the staring is the kind you do when you appreciate the look of another person. Sometimes, I think it's some weird split-tongue thing. It's gotta be, ‘cause if he was into me, he would've said something by now, right?

The part of me that’s still a writer sometimes makes up stories about my fussy regular. Why he's here. What he's thinking about. Whether he really sleeps on a pile of gold (if that’s not a speciesist stereotype.) What the no-doubt beautiful maiden he goes home to every night thinks of his morning routine. Or if maybe he’s into something a little more me-shaped.

Oh my god, I am such a romance novel cliché right now. 

Also, dammit Colin. 

Maybe focus on the dude you are actually trying to get between the sheets?

"Hi." I slide onto the bar stool beside the guy.

He's arrogantly fashionable, dressed like he just got off shift at a bank or a law firm, swaggering without standing, if that makes sense. But he's not him. 

It's not this guys' fault he's not him.

"Hi. I couldn't help but overhear it's your birthday. Happy birthday."

"Gee, thanks." I flash him a smile. "Though I think half the bar heard, actually."

It's about half the wattage I can usually manage.

I'm tired. The long train ride, the unexpected surprise... and I remember doing this with Caden. Whom I'd met just like this, in the exactly the same place. Backwards from Caden, brain jumps to Rebekah, and how last year for my birthday we'd done one of those boat cruise dinners at Niagara Falls.

How I'd already had the ring in my pocket, and was worrying more if she'd appreciate the cliche than if she was going to say yes. I definitely should have been worried more about whether she was going to say yes.

And I just…

… I just don't wanna anymore.

"Sorry," I say, before he can offer to buy me a drink, or suggest another way for the two of us to celebrate. "I thought you were someone else. My bad."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"Sorry for wasting your time."

I slink back to the table.

"Not into you?" Mauli asks.

"Not up for it." 

"Up for it," Mauli snickers, and I pinch them hard on the shoulder.

I leave at closing time, after a few beers too many, frustrated and manhandling Mauli into one of the cheap cabs that prowl St. Paul street for desperate fares. Dike had headed off with one of the ladies hours ago, and Hadi had bailed before I came back from the bar.

Happy birthday to me, I think morosely as I trudge home. 

Alone.

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